#he only looks this way when he is powered up

[pricetagged]

MEDIEVAL SCAMMER GHOAP?! Please enlighten us🙏🙏🙏

Since you both asked so nicely, have a snippet of a whisp of a concept😅

I have an idea. Not fully fleshed out. I could go in two directions, either historical Ghoap working as Pardoners and taking advantage of ignorant village reader (corruption kink, religious themes, abuse of power etc.).

OR, for my monster-lovers, has anyone seen Dragonheart? I was picturing, like, one of them is something beastly, the other plays at knight = profit? Fantasy scam and rescue? So, it would go something like this:

(Tw kidnapping and kind of mean Ghoap)

---------

Your situation didn't look any better flipped on its head. Flipped on your head, rather. Snatched and thrown over a bulky shoulder, high– higher than even your standing position. It was discomfiting; it was terrifying. Blood rushed to your face not only in fury but also in shame as your skirts fluttered in the breeze.

He noticed, too. His greedy fingers dug into your thighs, skimming down like he was soothing a skittish horse. But you felt the way he lingered. The way he chuffed and squeezed tighter when you kicked out with all the strength of a skittish colt.

Your fists pounded uselessly against heavy splint-mail, hands-catching on rough nodules and spikes that didn't quite register as pain. Not to your panic-stricken mind, thoughts flying off in the wind behind you as the beast carried you off.

But the smack registered.

Perhaps it was the sound, the harsh slap of flesh on flesh. Whipping crack, like the snapping of a great branch. The precursor to an eerie stillness, violence begetting obmutescence. And it worked–

–for a second. For the time it took for your stinging nerves to catch up with your racing mind. Then you howled. Kicked and clawed and hissed like a feral cat as tears welled in your lash-line.

"How dare you–"

"Quit yer fashin'. Ye'll bring the whole kingsguard down this way–"

"–good–"

"–and then I'll have tae kill them all," That had your attention, legs tense under the heavy band of his bicep. "Dinnae much feel like sharin' ye around."

"Oh, you beast! You foul, vile, disgusting–" Your voice was high, words scratching as they hitched out of your aching throat.

It hurt to speak, vocal cords already shredded from the way you'd screamed when he'd first ransacked your village. Coughing on heavy, acrid smoke and crying futile warnings about the Black Knight and his monster-in-arms ('Quiet, girl. Viper-tonged harlot, slither off and for gods' sake, quiet!') . But it hurt more to be silent. You flung insults like broken arrows, hoping that they would somehow land. That they would hit, fortuitously, and pierce the thick-hide of this brute. But hope is vain, and the fancies of men make gods laugh.

You landed hard on something soft.

Ego almost as bruised as your knees, you kept your eyes low. Sweeping. Marshy, wet silt. Topsoil sluiced off, only mud and clay and reeds to your right. A cheerfully babbling brook just beyond, water murky and discoloured with backwash from– the water flowed past the estuary of the village so it must be– no–

The realisation was caustic. Mordant. Burning at you like the scorched air in your lungs.

"You're a monster," you spat the words, mouth watering in your haste to let ichor drip forth and blacken him as much as the foul, brackish water ahead.

"Noticed that, did ye," he laughed, words glancing off like feeble blows. "Best not tae piss me off, then. Stay there and behave yersel'. Company's comin'."

Glancing up at him was like a blow to the stomach, wind punched out and body shaking. You already knew that he was big, inhuman. But now you could see every inch; monstrous, twisted mockery of natural features. Like a man formed of rock, too immense and hard and jagged to pass for anything but artificial. Counterfeit. Contranatural. Creation's bastard. All tusks and teeth and shorn hair. Hair everywhere, even down his bare, bulging forearms and thick knuckles. Coarse, dark.

His eerie, bright blue eyes blazed around black, pupils wild and blown. It could be the thrill, cruel playfulness of an apex predator. Berserker-wide, coming down from the kill–

But he'd been carrying you for a while, bloodlust long-since sated on the men and manse of your homeland.

You shivered, sweat and cold mingling in a discomfiting damp that raised the hairs on your arms. (The hairs on the back of your neck were already needle-stiff and prickling).

You pocketed a stone, a big jagged filthy shard. One you hoped could bruise and slash and poison, turn wounds weeping and sick.

Now that you were silent, he seemed especially strident, swaggering around the barebones of what you supposed must be a dwelling. You felt the slight whistling of air from the cave behind, cavernous and black. If you had to run, to hide, you'd take your chances with the forest and river ahead. To be lost in the appetites of the mountain abyss would spell death as surely as at the hands of this creature.

You watched him, cocksure and comfortable as he shucked off his warhammer and began unbuckling his braces. If you could read the snarl of his crooked teeth, you'd perhaps say he was in high spirits. He sent you a wink as he shrugged off his splint-mail, gravelly laugh echoing in the cavern behind.

It disguised the approach of your visitor.

"Grabbed the wrong one, Johnny," you shrieked as something grabbed your forearm, hauling you up. Looking down you saw the muted sheen of a spiked gauntlet. Black patina, flaked in iron rust. You swallowed hard, lump in your throat so big that it caught any words that might try to escape. Him. The Black Knight. The Liar. 

"Ye said to grab the pretty one by the fancy house."

"She's not the magistrate's daughter. No ransom for her." He spun you around, metal biting hard into your chin as he arched your face towards his.

Cloaked in ink-black helm and visor, you could just about peer in to meet his gaze. He looked back with cold, assessing eyes. The voice that rumbled forth was as harsh and breccial as you remembered, words rending you apart with serrated precision: "Not worth a rescue mission."

He released your chin with a final shake of your head, huffing amusement as you rubbed at the thin scratches he left behind.

It was hard to breathe now, stomach swirling and head-light. Even if you could will yourself, it wouldn’t help. There was already a faint coppery smell leeching from the Knight; your heart recognised it even if you would not give name to it. It sped up, fast enough to rush past your ears with discordant force. 

You didn’t feel the other one step up behind you, not until it was too late. There, trapped between man and monster (man the monster), tight enough that you couldn't even shiver. You felt the power of the creature even more now without the armour, all muscle and fat, sheer power close enough to sink your fingers into. But you couldn't move, your shallow breaths already catching in your throat into soft, hitching whines. 

"Shh, it's alright, bonnie," Rough, clumsy fingers swiped under your eyes. You felt him crouch lower, stubbly hair and tusks digging into your powder-soft cheek. "Looks like we're gonnae have tae keep you, then."

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

[fangdokja]

How do you escape a yandere harem? Asking for a very distressed friend (me).

♡ Book. Whispers in the Dark (WITD): Subtle Devotion, Lingering Shadows.

♡ Word Count. 1,128

♡ A/N. Basically me before I got married. lol. Yes. I hated anything romance both fiction and reality. So I like this concept haha. Also, I'm seriously debating on making this an actual novella. Maybe. I still have to finish my requests, but maybe.

You fucking hate romance.

Not in a casual, indifferent way. No, your hatred for romance is the kind that borders on seething disgust. The kind that makes you want to puke when two characters start making heart eyes at each other. The kind that makes you physically cringe when someone dares utter the words ‘soulmate’ or ‘true love’ in your general direction. Romance is a shit genre. A putrid, festering landfill of emotional drivel. You’d rather watch a slow-burn psychological horror where the protagonist’s sanity unravels, or a thriller where the final girl barely survives a slasher massacre, than sit through a single damn love confession.

So naturally, because fate fucking hates you, you get isekai’d into an otome game.

Not just any otome game. A reverse harem, noble court intrigue, “will you find true love?” kind of otome game. You wake up inside the body of some unfortunate, aristocratic protagonist, and your first instinct is to smash your head against the nearest marble pillar in the desperate hope that blunt force trauma will eject you from this nightmare. It doesn’t work.

Worse, you are surrounded by them.

♡ Yandere! Crown Prince who is everything you loathe—tall, broad-shouldered, charismatic. A born leader, they say. His bloodline has ruled for centuries. A tyrant in the making. His voice is deep, his smile a calculated weapon. A future emperor whose touch alone makes noblewomen swoon and fall at his feet like wilting flowers. He looks at you like you’re already his consort. You look at him like you’re about to stab him in the eye.

“Dearest,” he says, rolling the word across his tongue with insufferable arrogance, “what an honor it must be for you, to be chosen by the future ruler of this land.”

You stare at him. “I’d rather be executed for treason.”

His smile doesn’t waver. It only deepens. “How rebellious.”

You realize, with mounting horror, that he finds this amusing. Worse, attractive.

♡ Yandere! Archduke is the kind of man who has never once heard the word ‘no’ and taken it seriously. A bastard-born noble who climbed his way into power with sheer audacity and an overwhelming lack of self-preservation. The type to talk you in circles until you don’t even remember what you were arguing about in the first place. He’s always smirking, always one step ahead, and always so damn annoying.

“You wound me, darling,” he drawls, lounging against the silk cushions of your carriage like he owns it (because he does own it; he bought it specifically for your ‘dates’). “I’m a man of reason. I can be persuaded to let you go.”

You narrow your eyes. “Really?”

His smirk widens. “Of course. All you have to do is admit that you want me.”

Your expression darkens like storm clouds rolling in before a disaster. You exhale slowly. “I hope you contract the plague.”

He laughs. The bastard laughs. “Oh, sweetheart. That sharp tongue of yours only makes me want you more.”

You contemplate drowning yourself in the nearest fountain.

♡ Yandere! Supreme Mage doesn’t need to chase you. You’re already trapped. A cold-blooded intellectual, a prodigy whose intelligence surpasses entire generations of scholars. He is the advisor to the throne, the master of arcane arts, the genius whose apathy is only rivaled by his obsession. And for some unholy reason, he has chosen to dedicate that obsession to you.

“There is no logic in your resistance,” he states, his sharp calculated eyes watching your every move like a scientist dissecting a particularly fascinating specimen. “The probability of you escaping me is exactly zero.”

You glare at him from inside the magic barrier he’s sealed you in. “Fuck you.”

His lips twitch. “Inevitable.”

You scream internally.

♡ Yandere! Demon King is the worst of them all. The nightmare incarnate. The shadow that stretches across the battlefield, that turns the bravest warriors into weeping corpses. Seemingly peaceful, but whatever shred of righteousness he once had is buried beneath millennia of bloodshed. He watches you with an intensity that makes your skin crawl. You feel like prey. You are prey.

“I do not comprehend your reluctance,” he murmurs, tilting his head as though studying a curious, fragile thing. His fingers brush your cheek, and you physically recoil, like his touch might dissolve you from the inside out.

He does not retract his hand.

“You are mine,” he says simply.

“No, I am not,” you snap back, the venom in your voice laced with pure, unfiltered rage.

A pause. He exhales softly. Then he smiles.

“Ah,” he whispers. “A challenge.”

Your entire body locks up with dread. You suddenly understand, with absolute clarity, that you are fucked.

────────────

Your days are spent avoiding unwanted confessions, sidestepping ambushes disguised as ‘chance encounters,’ and resisting the overwhelming urge to commit arson. Your nights are spent planning elaborate escape routes that never come to fruition because one of the four nightmares always finds you first.

You try everything.

Poisoning the Crown Prince’s wine? He drinks it, licks his lips, and says, “Sweet. Did you make this yourself?”

Framing the Archduke for treason? He fakes his own death and then shows up in your chambers that same night, grinning like a lunatic. “Miss me?”

Teleporting away from the Supreme Mage? He rewinds time. You wake up in the same bed, with his arms around your waist.

Selling your soul to escape the Demon King? He is the one who answers.

You are doomed.

And worst of all?

It’s still a romance game.

You watch, helpless, as the ‘Affection Points’ rise every time you breathe in their general direction.

You don’t want a ‘Happy Ending.’

You want a cease and desist order.

And yet, the game continues.

Your suffering is eternal.

────────────

If you want to be added or removed from the tag list, just comment on the MASTERLIST of Whispers in the Dark (WITD): Subtle Devotion, Lingering Shadows. Thank you.

General TAG LIST of “Whispers In The Dark”: @keisocool , @elvabeth , @elloredef , @mjsjshhd , @lem-hhn , @yuki-istired

❤︎ Fang Dokja's Books.

♡ Book 1. A Heart Devoured (AHD): A Dark Yandere Anthology ♡ Book 2. Forbidden Fruits (FF): Intimate Obsessions, Unhinged Desires. ♡ Book 3. World Ablaze (WA) : For You, I'd Burn the World. ♡ Book 4 [you are here]. Whispers in the Dark (WITD): Subtle Devotion, Lingering Shadows. ♡ Book 5. Ink & Insight (I&I): From Dead Dove to Daydreams.

[enigmaris]

If Lois Lane had a nickle for every time she had to help an overpowered boy from the midwest with the power of journalism, she'd have two nickles. Which isn't a lot but its weird that its happened twice.

Danny watched as Lois pulled out her phone and pulled up a recording app.

“What are you doing?”

“You came to a journalist and are surprised to get an interview?” She asked him, her tone clearly joking. “What you’ve given me here is great kid, but newspaper clippings and copies of federal laws don’t get the public’s attention. I need a story, Phantom’s the story.”

“I’m not Phantom.”

Lois looked at him, less than impressed. Slowly, she turned the screen of her computer until it was visible to both of them. There, in full clarity, was a front-page story from his hometown newspaper. ‘Danny Phantom saves Bus Full of Children!’ and there was a picture of him in his ghost form, his face crystal clear on her screen.

"Phantom’s a ghost. I’m just a dumb kid.” Danny tried again.

Lois pinched the bridge of her nose with her right hand and muttered to herself.

“Why do all you midwestern boys have the same schtick?”

“I’m sorry?” Danny said, unsure if he should be apologizing or not.

“Changing your last name from Fenton to Phantom does not a secret identity make kid. It might work for most civilians, but anyone familiar with the hero game will clock you from a mile away.”

“I’m not Phantom.”

“Sure, kid. But I’m sure you have a way for me to interview him, right? Because I want to talk to him before I do anything else about your town.”

Danny hugged himself and looked down at his knees.

“Is it really that bad?”

“Not the worst I’ve seen. Wonder Woman’s is paper thin. I'm pretty sure most people in DC know who she is outside of the cape and just don’t say anything because she scares them.”

Danny snorted involuntarily at that, looking back up at the woman.

“What’s going on in your town, Phantom? Why come to a journalist and not the Justice League?”

“The Anti-Ecto Acts got passed like a year ago. They state that only being that produces or contains ectoplasm above a certain amount is considered non-sapient and is to be turned over to the government for disposal.” Danny said. “I put the whole thing in there for you to read, but it's long. Amity Park has a lot of ectoplasm in it. It's seeped into the air and water. Normal human people have it in them now. At first, those agents were just firing at me whenever I finished a ghost fight. I could deal with that. Their aim is terrible anyway. But then they figured out that humans can become contaminated with ectoplasm. They decided that meant the entire town was under their jurisdiction. They've decided that means that no one in town counts as human anymore, that we don’t have rights, that they’re doing us a favor by not just exterminating the entire town like the law says.”

Danny leaned forward, putting his hands on the desk in front of Lois Lane. He looked right into her bright eyes and spoke seriously.

“When it was just ghosts under attack, I didn’t think anyone would care. I’ve tried calling the Justice League for help, but they’ve brushed me off. People need to know what’s happening. Anyone can become ecto-contaminated. You just have to be in the right place at the wrong time. It’s not right what’s happening to Amity, Miss Lane. I came to you because if anyone could get the world to listen, to believe, then it's got to be you.”

And Lois Lane smiled. It was a proud, eager smile. The kind of smile Danny had seen on Sam right after she convinced the school to serve a vegan lunch. He barely held back from shivering.

“Well then, Mr. Phantom.” Lois said, before tapping onto the recording app on her phone and starting a recording. “Let’s begin.”

[greengoblinswifey]

could you do a story where frontman is readers sugar daddy, please and thank you I ❤️ your writing.

Luxury & Lies— Hwang In-ho x Fem!Reader

summary— Being In-ho’s sugar baby came with luxuries beyond your wildest dreams. You never questioned where his wealth came from, only cared about what you could get out of him. But when you stumbled upon the truth, the Squid Game and the power he held as the Front Man, you knew exactly how to use it to your advantage. And In-ho? He’d do anything to keep you.

warnings— Sugar daddy!in-ho, manipulation, cunnilingus, body worship, praise kink, unprotected sex, creampie, fluff.

a/n— Thank you and enjoy <3

Youth and beauty on the outside was not eternal, that being said, you were always one to use it to your advantage.

It was by using those assets that caused you to stumble upon Hwang In-ho. He was an older yet very attractive man and obviously very wealthy. You knew how to play the game right and the night you had met In-ho, you were seated in the lounge area of an upscale restaurant that was famous for transactions like this.

He slipped into the seat next to you, decked in an expensive suit and as soon as you flipped your hair and tilted your head, he was sold.

You didn’t have to say much, especially when it came to older men, you let him do the talking, you were just there to look pretty and get what you want. And you got way more than you bargained for being Hwang In-ho’s sugar baby.

In-ho always gave you what you wanted. That was the foundation of your arrangement. You asked, and he delivered—no questions, no hesitations. It started with luxury handbags and designer clothes and shoes, then first class trips and five star hotels, and before you knew it, you had an entire apartment paid for in your name and a collection of jewelry that could make royalty jealous.

Being with In-ho meant being spoiled, but it also meant playing your role. You were his eye candy at every event, the one in his arm in dresses he picked out for you, flashing a smile that made investors and business partners envious. You liked the life you lived, liked the way people looked at you when you walked into a room together.

You never questioned how he could afford it all. What did it matter? You weren’t with him for his morality, you were with him for what he could give you.

But then you found out.

It had been an accident, really. You were in his office at the penthouse, bored and nosy, and you stumbled across a locked drawer in his desk. He always kept things private, but this was different, the secrecy intrigued you. So you looked until you found the key, expecting maybe some business documents or an old affair he never wanted you to know about.

You didn’t expect tapes.

Or the footage of people being slaughtered.

You sat frozen, watching clips from the so called Squid Game, men and women gunned down like animals, the screams piercing even through the speakers of his monitor. And there, in the midst of it all, was him—your sugar daddy, the man who paid for your lifestyle, standing over it all in that black mask.

The Front Man.

The truth settled like ice in your veins, but strangely, you weren’t horrified. You were curious.

For the first time since meeting In-ho, you had leverage.

So, you confronted him.

You remembered the way he looked at you when you brought it up. The sharp inhale. The slight flinch. He had tried to keep you in the dark for a reason, because, deep down, he feared this exact moment.

“You weren’t supposed to see that,” he said, voice carefully neutral.

“Yeah?” You folded your arms. “Well, I did.”

A pause. A long, heavy silence. And then, a confession. He admitted everything. How long he had been in charge. What the games really were. The money, the power, the control.

“I understand if you don’t want to be with me anymore,” he said eventually, looking down. “I won’t stop you.”

That was the moment you could have walked away. Should have, maybe. But you had no intention of leaving.

Instead, you put on a show, acted like you needed time, like you were shaken and unsure. Let him panic, let him compensate.

And, oh, did he compensate.

A brand new penthouse apartment, yours, fully paid for. A car, your dream model, delivered to your doorstep. Cash in your account, a credit card linked to his bank account. Jewelry, vacations, an all expenses paid trip with your homegirls on his private jet, all while he stayed behind, giving you space.

He only texted you once.

“Let me know when you're ready to talk.”

When you had everything you wanted, you decided it was time.

The night you returned, he was already waiting in your penthouse, standing by the windows with a glass of whiskey.

“You look beautiful,” he said, scanning your outfit like he hadn’t seen you in weeks, which he hadn’t. “Did you have a good trip?”

“It was perfect,” you said, slipping off your coat and letting it drop onto the couch. “Thanks to you.”

He exhaled softly, nodding. “And are you ready to talk?”

“I am,” you said as you walked toward him slowly, heels clicking against the floor.

He tensed. You could see it in the way his fingers curled slightly against the glass, like he was bracing himself for the worst.

“You kept a huge secret from me, In-ho,” you murmured, stopping just inches away. “That’s not something I can just forgive overnight.”

“I know,” he said quietly. “And I’m sorry. For all of it.”

“I bet you are.” You reached for his tie, giving it a gentle tug. “But sorry isn’t enough. You have to earn my trust again.”

His breathing hitched. “Anything,” he murmured, voice low. “Just tell me what I need to do.”

You smiled, slow and sultry. “Good,” you said, stepping backward toward the bedroom. “Then follow me.” And just like that, he did.

You led him across the penthouse, never looking back, because you didn’t need to, you could feel his presence behind you, could feel the heat of his stare. By the time you reached the bedroom, you stopped at the edge of the bed, tilting your head just slightly over your shoulder.

He was watching you with hungry, dark eyes, scanning every inch of you. And then, you let yourself fall back against the silk sheets, stretching out, parting your legs to make your point.

His breath came uneven. “You—”

“You said you’d do anything,” you murmured, hooking a leg around his waist and pulling him closer. “Show me.”

Something inside him snapped.

He was on you in seconds, his hands gripping you, lips crashing against yours with a desperation you had never felt from him before. He wasn’t just indulging you—he was proving himself.

For the rest of the night, he did exactly that.

Because at the end of the day, you always got what you wanted.

The second In-ho had you beneath him, it was like something inside him broke loose. His hands were at your clothes in an instant, fabric tearing under his grip as he stripped you naked. The sound of ripping seams filled the air, followed by a sharp gasp from you as cool air met your skin.

“In-ho—”

“Shh, baby,” he murmured, dark eyes flickering over you like he was soaking up every inch to memory.

His lips were on you before you could respond, trailing hot, open mouthed kisses down your neck, across your collarbone, over your breasts. His lips were everywhere, like he was trying to worship and make it up to you.

Then he was lower, his mouth pressing against your stomach, his hands holding you steady as you squirmed.

“Fuck,” you whimpered, breath catching.

“Look at you,” he groaned. “So perfect. Always so goddamn perfect for me.”

And then, he had you unraveling.

The first stroke of his tongue against your pussy had your back arching, fingers twisting into the sheets as pleasure shot through you like lightning. He moaned against you, gripping your thighs to hold you still, but you couldn’t—not when he was devouring you like this, like he had been starved for you.

“You taste so good,” he murmured against your pussy, pressing a kiss between every stroke of his tongue. “You have no idea what you do to me.”

You barely heard him past the pleasure that built and built with every expert movement of his mouth. He was relentless, slow at first, savoring you, but when he felt you tense, when he heard the way you gasped his name, he tightened his grip and ravished you with ferocity that had your legs shaking.

“That’s it,” he rasped. “Cum for me, baby. Let me hear you.”

And when you finally came, when you cried out so loud you swore the whole city could hear, he only held you through it, kissing your thighs, whispering praises against your heated skin.

“You’re a dream,” he breathed, pressing a lingering kiss just below your navel. “So beautiful. So good for me.”

In-ho didn’t stop. Even after you were left trembling beneath him, after your breath was still shaky and your body tingled from the aftershocks, he kept kissing you, soft presses of his lips against your skin.

“You're everything,” he murmured between kisses, trailing from your chest to your lips. “More than I deserve.”

The way you shivered when his fingers brushed your breasts, the way your breath hitched when he pressed a kiss just below your chest. He worshiped you, whispering apologies against your skin.

“Forgive me,” he said, forehead resting against yours. “For everything. For keeping things from you, for being selfish enough to want you despite it all.”

You cupped his face, brushing your thumbs over his cheekbones. “You're not losing me,” you promised softly, and the way his eyes darkened told you he believed you—but he needed to prove himself anyway.

His mouth found yours in a desperate kiss, hands gripping your hips as he pressed himself against you. You felt him—all of him, hard and heavy against your thigh.

Another thing about In-ho? He was the full package. The biggest you’d had, the biggest you probably ever would have, and he knew exactly how to use it.

He smirked at the way you swallowed hard, his hands skimming down your sides, teasing, making you wait.

“You always act like such a brat,” he murmured, pressing open mouthed kisses to your neck. “Like you don’t need me.” His hand wrapped around your thigh, pulling you flush against him. “But then I get you like this, and you melt for me.”

“In-ho,” you gasped, gripping his shoulders.

“Shh, baby,” he murmured, dragging it out, making you feel every inch of his cock as he slowly pressed against your folds. “Let me take care of you.”

And when he finally gave in, when he finally stopped teasing and claimed you, it was deep, slow, possessive. He worshiped you, murmuring praises against your lips, against your skin. He filled you inch by inch, your pussy quivering around him.

“You're perfect,” he groaned. “Such a good girl for me.”

Your nails dug into his back, legs tightening around him as he pulled you closer, right on his dick. Every slow, deep stroke unraveled you, and he felt everything, the way you clung to him, the way you gasped his name like a prayer.

“That’s it, baby,” he coaxed, pressing his forehead to yours. “Give it to me. Cum.”

And when you finally did, when you cried out and your body tensed beneath him, he held you through it, his own breath ragged, his grip tightening like he never wanted to let you go.

He didn’t pull away right away—just kissed you through it, pressing soft kisses to your cheeks, your forehead, your lips. Soon, you felt the rush of his cum filling you up and his soft moans in your ear.

“Mine,” he murmured against your skin. “You’re mine.”

In-ho never just left you after. That wasn’t who he was.

No matter how intense things got, no matter how desperate or needy, he always made sure to take care of you after.

Tonight was no different.

He pressed a kiss to your temple before slipping away, only to return moments later with a warm cloth. He handled you carefully, murmuring soft praises as he cleaned you up, whispering apologies when you flinched from sensitivity. His touch was steady, so unlike the man who ran the most brutal game in existence. With you, he was different.

“You okay, baby?” he asked, running a hand down your thigh as he finished.

You nodded sleepily, reaching for him. “Mhm.”

That was all he needed to hear. He tossed the cloth aside and pulled you into his arms, shifting until you were resting on his chest, his fingers tracing circles into your skin.

“I’ll prove myself to you every day,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “I’ll always be here for you.”

You hummed in response, half asleep against him, but he knew you heard him.

That was something about In-ho, you knew this arrangement was transactional, but there was something deeply intimate in the way he held you after, in the way he needed to keep you close, like he was afraid you’d slip away in the night.

Even now, his grip on you was firm.

“You’re so good to me,” you mumbled, fingertips skimming his jaw.

“You deserve it,” he murmured, eyes half lidded as he looked down at you. “And more.”

He held you like that for the rest of the night, whispering sweet nothings, pressing lazy kisses to your hair. You didn’t need to say it out loud, but you both knew, no matter how complicated things were, he wasn’t letting you go.

[ilvfryends]

Everyone turns to me as my new apprentice dry-heaves the all of nothing left in his stomach. 3 people are slumped in various positions covered in various different colors and break-outs. "I mean bonus points for the variety but hell do you even understand the simplicity of long acting poison?! If you really wanted everyone here dead giving it a couple hours to kick in would be the best way to go about it." I am quite literally the house witch, it is literally my job to understand this and these idiots apparently hate their witches and have zero respect for them.

Some idiot in a grassy green jacket says "well I mean, what did you expect? We all hate each other" everyone else nodding in agreement.

"Honestly I respect all of you more for the blatancy, it's well respected at my home to say it how it is." That stupid girl from Tresstown says from the far side of the table, her pink gown matching her obnoxious voice.

"Oh shut it you Tressian, nobody gives a damn about what you respect, all you people ever do is talk about yourselves"

"Ya like you're any better Alador, all you do all day is pig out and chop off heads for fun"

Gods this is getting old, wouldn't it be fun to just kill them all, nobody likes them anyways. And as previously stated, a lot of them have an affinity for killing people. What if I just... "Well lets clear all this" I magic away the whole dinner "and drink. What are we feeling?" I pull open the hidden bar start lining the table with whatever is called out, ending with myself an expresso martini in hand. "To dirtbags doing the dirty work" which earns me one hell of a glare from Travis, my assigned Lord, before we all drink.

20 minutes later as I'm making round 2 the coughing begins, everyone looks around, specifically at my dear Lord Travis who is the only one not hacking up blood at this point. Eyes roll back, limbs twitch and more bodies end up lying slumped on and off the table. "Oh dear Drame, I never thought you to have the guts."

"In my defence they killed my apprentice, he was actually really good at his job." I hand him the fresh drink before sitting back at his side an apple-raspberry cocktail in mine, "they have heirs so relief will be short-lived."

He takes a long drink before starting "well sh-" and then dropping dead, he was alright, short and sweet worked for him.

""Hey guys, they're all dealt with, the heirs gone yet?""

I hear some screams and slashing before ""mine are done."" Oh so obviously Grace, being excessive as usual. ""Don't worry I'll shower before meeting y'all""

Everyone else confirms, ""welcome to the revolution ladies. Remember, we're meeting at the stones in an hour, let your crows in to clean up before you magic out."

1 hour later

"Lets get out of this hell already" Trish complains the second she appears.

"I swear to the gods if I have to hear anyone say that again I'm leaving you to do the spell on your own. Making a mass portal to the Fey realm is not quick and I've already been here for a half hour longer than the rest of you"

"Bitchy much?" She jokes to the others to which she receives eye rolls, we were all more than glad when she got assigned to the farthest province, sadly we can't leave her; all of us or none of us, that was the deal.

About 10 minutes later it's ready, all 26 of us stand in the circle, me at the center and spreading out by power level, the power is imbued, the words are spoken, and with a flash of light and then a wave of darkness we're pulled through space straight into the Dwarven citadel.

"….Okay, are any of the dishes not poisoned?! Is there anyone at this feast who did not poison anything?!"

[aspenmissing]

Hi! First of all, love your work. Second off all, could you write arcane characters with an S/O who has a really big dog? Kangal type of shit?

ᴀ ᴍᴀɴꜱ ʙᴇꜱᴛ ꜰʀɪᴇɴᴅ

ᴊᴀʏᴄᴇ | ᴠɪᴋᴛᴏʀ | ᴊᴀʏᴠɪᴋ | ᴠᴀɴᴅᴇʀ | ꜱɪʟᴄᴏ | ᴊɪɴx/ᴘᴏᴡᴅᴇʀ || ꜰʟᴜꜰꜰ || 5135 ᴡᴏʀᴅꜱ || ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: ɴ/ᴀ

ʀᴇQᴜᴇꜱᴛ ᴀɴꜱᴡᴇʀ: ʜᴇʟʟᴏ ᴍʏ ᴅᴇᴀʀ! ᴛʜᴀɴᴋ ʏᴏᴜ ᴠᴇʀʏ ᴍᴜᴄʜ, ɪ'ᴍ ɢʟᴀᴅ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀʀᴇ ᴇɴᴊᴏʏɪɴɢ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋ! ᴀɴᴅ ɪ ᴇɴᴊᴏʏᴇᴅ ᴡʀɪᴛɪɴɢ ᴛʜɪꜱ, ɪᴛ ᴡᴀꜱ Qᴜɪᴛᴇ ꜰᴜɴɴʏ ᴛᴏ ɪᴍᴀɢɪɴᴇ! <3

ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ | ᴊᴀʏᴄᴇ | ᴠɪᴋᴛᴏʀ | ᴠᴀɴᴅᴇʀ | ꜱɪʟᴄᴏ | ᴊɪɴx/ᴘᴏᴡᴅᴇʀ

JAYCE

It had been a few months since you and Jayce had started seeing each other, and things were going better than you ever could have imagined. The two of you had settled into a natural rhythm, full of easy conversation, playful teasing, and quiet moments that made your heart ache in the best way.

You’d told him plenty about yourself—your work, your hobbies, your dog—but you’d deliberately left out one small, important detail.

The breed.

Jayce, being Jayce, had assumed you had a small or medium-sized dog. Something manageable, perhaps a lively terrier or an affectionate spaniel. Maybe even a lapdog that could curl up in your arms.

You didn’t correct him.

You were waiting for this exact moment.

=

Tonight, for the first time, Jayce was coming over to your apartment for dinner. He’d been over the moon when you invited him, eager to see more of your world outside of stolen hours together in the city or at his place.

"Looking forward to finally meeting your little pup," he said with a grin as he knocked on your door, completely oblivious.

You barely held back a laugh. Oh, he has no idea.

With a smirk tugging at your lips, you unlocked the door and cracked it open. You didn’t even get a word out before chaos erupted.

A massive blur of thick, golden-red fur and sheer muscle burst through the gap like a wrecking ball, launching itself at Jayce with the force of a battering ram. A deep, earth-shaking bark echoed through the hallway as Atlas, your beloved Tibetan Mastiff, tackled your poor, unsuspecting boyfriend straight to the ground.

Jayce barely had time to let out a startled yell before he was slammed onto his back, pinned beneath what could only be described as a small bear in canine form.

"What the—?! Y/N! HELP!" Jayce wheezed as he was absolutely smothered by Atlas’s overwhelming enthusiasm.

You burst into laughter, doubling over at the sight of your massive dog sprawled across Jayce’s broad chest, eagerly licking his face with sloppy, wet kisses.

Atlas, towering and fluffy, easily weighed over 75 kilograms of sheer power and fur. His thick mane—so full it looked almost leonine—puffed out around his enormous head, making him seem even bigger than he already was. His massive paws pressed down on Jayce like he was made of paper, his heavy tail wagging so hard it nearly knocked over a side table.

Jayce, absolutely helpless, flailed beneath him. "Y/N, call him off! He’s—he’s—there’s SO MUCH OF HIM!"

Tears of laughter pricked your eyes. "I told you I had a dog!"

"You didn’t tell me you had a MOUNTAIN!" he shot back, voice muffled as Atlas joyfully slobbered all over him, his deep, pleased rumbles vibrating through his chest.

Atlas was having the best day of his life. His enormous, fluffy tail wagged harder as he panted happily, thoroughly besotted with this new human.

Finally, you took pity on your poor boyfriend. "Alright, Atlas, off."

With a low, reluctant huff, Atlas lifted his head and, after one final suffocating lick to Jayce’s cheek, heaved his massive body off of him.

Jayce sat up, breathless, dazed, and utterly covered in dog slobber.

You bit your lip to keep from laughing again.

Jayce ran a hand through his hair, which now had a considerable amount of drool in it, and turned to you with a look that was equal parts betrayal and astonishment. "THIS is Atlas?" he questioned. "This isn’t a dog, this is a whole lion!"

Atlas, completely unfazed by the accusation, plopped his gigantic rear down beside Jayce and gave him a big, toothy, doggy grin, as if expecting more attention.

Jayce blinked at him, eyes wide, before slowly turning back to you. "This is what you meant when you said you had a dog? You left out the part where he’s the size of a horse!"

You grinned as you crouched down next to Atlas, scratching behind his enormous, fluffy ears. "Would you have come over if I told you?"

Jayce opened his mouth, then shut it, clearly re-evaluating his life choices. "Honestly? Maybe not." He let out a sigh, wiping some of the excess drool off his face with his sleeve. "But now that I’m here, I guess I don’t have a choice."

Atlas let out a pleased huff, his tail sweeping across the floor in happy thumps.

Jayce looked at him warily. "He’s not gonna, like… eat me, is he?"

You snorted. "No, Jayce. He’s just obsessed with people he likes. Consider this his way of welcoming you to the pack."

Jayce glanced at Atlas, who was staring at him adoringly, eyes bright, tongue lolling out in an expression of pure joy. Despite himself, Jayce sighed and hesitantly reached out a hand.

Atlas immediately leaned into his touch, practically melting under the attention, his deep, pleased rumble vibrating through his whole body.

"Yeah, yeah," Jayce muttered, watching in mild horror as Atlas lifted a massive paw and plopped it onto his lap, effectively trapping him. "I guess he's kinda cute… in a 'he could kill me in my sleep' sort of way."

You laughed, leaning over to press a kiss to Jayce’s cheek. "You’ll get used to him."

Jayce gave you a long, dramatic sigh. Then, with an air of complete resignation, he reached out and scratched Atlas under his chin, prompting a deep, rumbling groan of bliss from your oversized beast.

"Yeah," Jayce muttered, shaking his head as Atlas nuzzled into him, tail wagging harder than ever. "I think I already have."

VIKTOR

The morning had not gone as planned. Y/N had meticulously arranged for Brutus, her colossal Irish Wolfhound, to be watched while she worked in the lab, but the sitter had cancelled last minute. With no other choice, she had wrangled all 80 kilos of shaggy, excitable muscle into Piltover’s prestigious Academy, leading him down the corridors as he practically dragged her along, nails clicking loudly against the polished floors. Heads turned, students and professors alike eyeing the enormous beast with a mixture of curiosity and apprehension.

Brutus was a sweetheart, really, but he had no concept of his own size. The second the doors to the lab swung open, the enormous dog’s ears perked up. His dark eyes locked onto Viktor, his long tail beginning to thump against Y/N’s leg with increasing intensity. Before she could react, Brutus let out a deep, delighted woof and tore free from her grasp, galloping forward like a force of nature.

“Brutus, no—!” Y/N yelped, lunging forward too late.

Viktor barely had time to glance up before he was nearly flattened, only managing to brace himself against the desk with his free hand as Brutus barreled into him. His cane wobbled slightly under the sudden shift in weight, and he instinctively tightened his grip on it, trying to maintain his balance. The sheer force of the impact made him stumble slightly, his knuckles whitening as he steadied himself. Tail wagging so hard it rattled the nearby equipment, Brutus let out a high-pitched whine of joy, his massive paws lifting slightly off the ground in an attempt to get even closer.

Y/N was there in an instant, desperately grabbing Brutus by his thick scruff and trying to pull him back. “Brutus, off! You’re going to knock him over—Viktor, are you alright?” Her voice was filled with panic, eyes darting to his leg in worry.

To her surprise, Viktor let out a breathless chuckle, one hand braced on the desk while the other tentatively reached up to scratch behind Brutus’ ears. “Well, this is quite the enthusiastic greeting,” he mused, amusement flickering in his golden eyes. There was a warmth to his tone, an openness that made Y/N pause, her grip on Brutus loosening slightly.

Brutus groaned in bliss at the attention, his enormous body relaxing as he flopped against Viktor’s legs. Y/N’s heart lurched. “Brutus, you’re going to hurt his leg—get off him!” she pleaded, trying to haul the behemoth away, her muscles straining against his sheer size.

Viktor, however, waved a hand dismissively, adjusting his stance slightly so his weight remained evenly distributed. “It is alright, Y/N. He is just happy to see me, yes?” He smirked as Brutus, completely ignoring Y/N’s protests, leaned in and licked his face, leaving a wet smear across his cheek. Viktor wrinkled his nose but still chuckled. “It seems he recognises my scent.”

Y/N groaned, still wrestling with the dog’s thick fur. “Of course he does. You’re all over me, so when I come home, you’re the smell he picks up on most.”

Viktor hummed, clearly enjoying that revelation far too much. “I see, I see.” His smirk deepened, a teasing glint in his eyes. “Then perhaps I should leave even more of my scent, hm?”

Y/N’s face burned, but before she could snap back, Brutus, completely unfazed by the exchange, let out a pleased huff and finally settled at Viktor’s feet, his head resting on Viktor’s lap as though he had just claimed him as his own. Viktor gave Y/N a sly grin, fingers running through the dog’s shaggy fur with slow, thoughtful strokes. “I believe you have lost this battle, Y/N. Brutus has chosen.”

Y/N groaned, dropping her forehead into her palm. “I can’t believe this. Now I have two troublemakers to deal with.”

Viktor laughed, full and rich, as he scratched Brutus behind the ears. “Oh, I assure you, I am much less work than this one.” He tapped Brutus’ nose, earning a happy chuff in response.

Y/N sighed, crossing her arms as she watched the scene before her. Viktor, looking more at ease than she’d seen him in weeks, a small smile playing at his lips as Brutus lay sprawled across his feet like a contented lapdog. It was ridiculous. It was unfair. It was—

Adorable.

She exhaled in defeat, shaking her head. “Fine. But you’re helping me walk him home later.”

Viktor raised a brow, smirking. “With pleasure.”

Y/N eyed him suspiciously. “Even if he decides to bolt and you have to keep up?”

Viktor tapped his cane against the floor with a small grin. “I will manage.”

Brutus let out a happy, rumbling sigh, and Y/N knew in that moment she was never going to win against the combined efforts of these two troublemakers.

JAYVIK

Jayce stood with his arms crossed, glancing at Viktor with a sceptical expression as they stood outside Y/N’s home. "She’s exaggerating, right? A ‘giant beast’? How bad can it be?"

Viktor shifted his weight onto his good leg, gripping his cane as he shot Jayce a knowing look. "You say that now, but I have learned not to underestimate Y/N’s words. If she says it is a ‘beast,’ it probably is."

Jayce scoffed, running a hand through his hair. "Pfft. It’s just a dog."

Before Viktor could respond, the front door swung open, and Y/N stood there with a wide grin, leaning casually against the frame. "Finally! Took you two long enough. Come on in, the dogs have been dying to meet you."

Jayce and Viktor exchanged a glance before cautiously stepping inside. The house was warm and welcoming, the scent of something sweet lingering in the air—maybe tea, maybe fresh bread.

But they weren’t focused on that. Their eyes immediately began scanning the room, looking for the so-called ‘giant beast’ Y/N had warned them about.

And then, from around the corner, a tiny dog trotted into view.

A minuscule, scruffy little Yorkshire Terrier with a puffed-out chest and an attitude far too big for its size. Its wiry coat was a mix of tan and grey, ears perked high with excitement as it strutted forward like it owned the place.

Jayce blinked. "That’s it?"

Viktor tilted his head slightly, studying the tiny creature with an unimpressed look. "This is the ‘beast’?"

Y/N, clearly holding back laughter, crouched down and affectionately scratched behind the little dog’s ears. "Yep. That’s Titan."

Jayce let out a bark of laughter, crouching to the dog’s level. "Oh, come on, Y/N! You made it sound like you had some monster in here!"

Titan—despite being barely the size of Jayce’s forearm—stood proudly, his little tail wagging with confidence. He yapped excitedly and immediately tried to wrestle Jayce’s fingers, gnawing at them with all the ferocity of a tiny warrior.

Jayce grinned. "Oh yeah, real terrifying."

Viktor exhaled, leaning slightly on his cane. "I was expecting something… larger."

And then the ground shook.

A heavy thud echoed through the room.

Jayce and Viktor froze.

There was a sound of something massive moving—slow, deliberate steps, heavy paws pressing against the wooden floor. The air suddenly felt different, thick with an undeniable presence.

And then they saw it.

Emerging from the hallway, like some ancient guardian beast, was a dog so massive it practically had its own gravitational field. A Kangal, broad-shouldered and powerful, with a thick, cream-coloured coat and a dark mask over its face. Its sheer size dwarfed everything in the room, towering over the furniture.

It stared down at them with calm but all-knowing eyes—assessing, judging.

Viktor instinctively tightened his grip on his cane. Jayce slowly stood up, his laughter dying in his throat.

"...A-Are you sure that's not Titan?" Jayce asked, voice suddenly a lot quieter.

Y/N smirked, crossing her arms as the enormous Kangal sat down with a heavy huff, the sheer weight of it making the floor creak slightly. "Nope. That is Peanut."

There was a pause.

A long, painful pause.

Viktor pressed a hand over his face. "You switched their names on purpose, didn’t you?"

Y/N grinned, tilting her head innocently. "I have no idea what you mean."

Titan, the tiny Yorkshire Terrier, let out a high-pitched bark, as if personally mocking them.

Peanut—who could probably take down a fully grown man if he wanted to—merely blinked slowly before gently lowering himself onto the floor with a yawn, completely unbothered by the chaos.

Jayce swallowed hard, clearing his throat as he stepped slightly behind Viktor. "So… uh… he’s friendly, right?"

Y/N gave Peanut a few loving pats on his massive head. "Oh, absolutely. Wouldn’t hurt a fly."

To prove her point, Peanut lowered his massive head onto his paws, staring up at them with the softest, kindest eyes imaginable. His tail gave a single slow wag, clearly too relaxed to care about their presence.

Jayce let out a relieved sigh. "Alright, okay. That’s not so—"

His words were cut off as something launched at his leg.

Titan, the real beast of the house, latched onto Jayce’s ankle with all the force of a miniature hellhound, snarling like he was taking down an intruder.

"WHAT THE HELL—GET IT OFF!" Jayce yelped, shaking his leg in a panic as Titan clung on with surprising strength.

Viktor, for once, looked genuinely amused. "Ah, I see now," he mused, watching the tiny terror gnaw on Jayce’s boot. "Peanut is the gentle one. This is the monster."

Y/N doubled over in laughter. "Yeah, yeah, Peanut’s a sweetheart. But Titan?" She smirked. "He’s the real beast of the house."

Jayce finally managed to shake Titan off, the tiny dog landing gracefully on all fours and immediately puffing out his chest as if he had won the battle. He let out a triumphant bark, clearly enjoying Jayce’s suffering.

Peanut, still sprawled on the floor, let out a long, lazy sigh, completely unbothered.

Jayce ran a hand down his face. "I hate this house."

Viktor smirked, giving Peanut a few careful pats on the head before glancing at Jayce. "I, on the other hand, rather like it."

Titan barked again, eyes locked onto Jayce like he was ready for round two.

Jayce narrowed his eyes. "Don’t you dare."

Y/N grinned, wrapping an arm around both of them and pulling them closer. "Oh, relax, big guy. You’ll get used to it."

Titan wagged his tiny tail. Peanut yawned.

And Viktor? He was definitely enjoying this far too much.

VANDER

The first time Y/N waltzed into The Last Drop with a mountain of fur trailing behind her, everyone assumed she’d brought a bear into the bar. The sheer size of the beast alone made Mylo shriek and scramble onto a table, clutching his drink like it was his last lifeline. Claggor, ever the level-headed one, simply blinked in astonishment, while Vi and Powder immediately rushed over to the dog with stars in their eyes.

“Christ love, what the hell is that?” Vander had asked, arms crossed, eyebrow arched as he took in the massive St. Bernard panting happily at her side.

She grinned, scratching behind the dog’s ear. “This? This is Vander.”

Vander blinked. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me. Meet Vander.”

Silence.

Then Powder gasped. “She named him after you! Oh my gods, she thinks you look like a dog!”

Y/N snickered as the kids erupted into laughter. Vander pinched the bridge of his nose with a sigh, muttering something about 'not getting paid enough for this,' despite the fact that he didn’t get paid at all.

From that day on, the beast—Vander the dog—became a permanent fixture at The Last Drop. He would amble behind the bar and flop down with a heavy thud, taking up an alarming amount of space. Vi often used him as a pillow, Powder climbed all over him, and even Mylo begrudgingly warmed up to the enormous canine (after realising Vander the dog wasn’t, in fact, out to eat him).

=

Powder, however, took things a step further. She didn’t just climb on Vander—she practically lived on him. If she wasn’t sitting on his back while he walked around, she was draped over him like a particularly lazy cat. Sometimes, she’d ride him through the bar like a horse, giggling as he lumbered along, completely unbothered. She even tried tying little ribbons in his fur at one point, though Vander (the man) put his foot down when he saw the dog parading around with bright pink bows on his ears.

“Powder, get off him,” Vi groaned one evening as Vander the dog ambled past, Powder sitting proudly on his back like she was the queen of The Last Drop.

“But he doesn’t mind!” Powder protested, wrapping her arms around the dog’s thick neck. “Do ya, big guy?”

Vander the dog huffed in amusement, his tail wagging slightly.

Human Vander shot Y/N a look. “You’re letting this happen?”

She shrugged. “He likes it. Besides, it's free entertainment.”

=

The only problem? Every time Y/N called for her dog, chaos ensued.

“Vander! Come here, boy!”

Two heads turned. The dog’s and the man’s.

Y/N bit back a grin as she watched them both react simultaneously. The dog perked up, tongue lolling, and trotted towards her eagerly. The man, on the other hand, groaned and shot her a look. “Really?”

She shrugged, completely unapologetic. “What? You do kinda look alike.”

More than once, it led to absolute confusion. Like when Powder excitedly shouted, “Vander, wanna treat?” and both Vanders turned to her with equal enthusiasm. Or when Y/N would scold, “Vander, get your ass off the floor!” and human Vander grumbled, “I AM standing up,” while the dog remained unbothered, snoring at her feet.

The worst, however, was when Y/N, exhausted from a long day, absentmindedly muttered, “Good boy,” while patting the dog’s head—only to look up and see human Vander standing there with an unreadable expression.

“Uh—”

“Y’know what? Not even gonna ask,” Vander said, shaking his head before grabbing a pint. “I need a drink.”

Despite all the mix-ups, Vander the man and Vander the dog had an unspoken understanding. The dog was his unofficial replacement whenever he was busy, acting as a very fluffy bouncer when needed. And in return, Vander (the man) made sure the dog had the best scraps from the bar. More than once, Y/N had caught him sneaking the beast a particularly large cut of meat, muttering, "Don’t tell anyone, big guy."

As much as Vander (the man) would complain, Y/N knew he secretly loved the giant fluffball. Because, at the end of the day, she often caught him sneaking the dog extra treats or murmuring, “Good boy,” when he thought no one was looking.

And if Vander (the man) would grumble when the dog responded faster to his name than he did, well… that was just a bonus.

SILCO

"You what?" Silco's voice was flat, but there was a hint of trepidation beneath it.

"I need you to watch Goliath for a few hours." Y/N stood in front of his desk, arms crossed in a way that left little room for argument.

Silco pinched the bridge of his nose. "And why, exactly, am I—crime lord of Zaun, mastermind of an entire revolution—reduced to a dog sitter?"

"Because you're the only one I trust with him."

Silco narrowed his eyes. "I highly doubt that."

"Also because Sevika said, and I quote, ‘I’d rather risk being blew up my Jinx than deal with that overgrown mutt again.’"

Silco turned his gaze to Sevika, who merely took a swig of her drink and grumbled, "Thing nearly sat on my lungs last time. Couldn’t breathe for five minutes."

Silco sighed, waving a dismissive hand. "Fine. But if he eats anything valuable, you’re replacing it."

Y/N beamed. "You’re the best!" With that, she whistled, and a low rumbling growl preceded the appearance of Goliath—a Bernese Mountain Dog of utterly ridiculous proportions.

Thick, glossy black fur with rust and white patches made him look even larger as he lumbered into the room. His huge paws clicked against the floor, and his golden-brown eyes gleamed with excitement as he made a beeline for Silco.

The crime lord tensed. "That is not a dog. That is a bear."

Goliath panted happily, his fluffy tail wagging as he sniffed at Silco’s coat before promptly leaning against him.

"Good luck!" Y/N called over her shoulder as she made a swift exit, leaving Silco alone with the beast.

=

Two Hours Later

Silco was mid-conversation with Sevika, poring over a map of Zaun when he felt it.

A weight. A considerable weight.

At first, it was just a slight pressure against his legs, then a shift of movement. Then—

He glanced down.

Goliath—all 55 kilograms of him—was slowly crawling into his lap.

Silco's lips parted in silent disbelief. "…Is he—?"

Sevika’s eyebrow twitched. "Uh, boss?"

Silco remained utterly still as the massive dog wiggled his way into position, draping his front paws over Silco’s legs, his broad head resting against the crime lord’s chest.

The sheer force of the dog’s weight nearly tipped Silco’s chair back. A very real fear of toppling over and dying beneath a mountain of fur hit him.

"Unbelievable," he muttered under his breath.

Sevika, to her credit, was trying very hard not to laugh, but her shoulders were shaking.

Silco glared at her. "Say a word, and you lose another limb."

"Not sayin’ a word," she muttered, her smirk betraying her amusement.

With painstaking slowness, Silco tried to shift the dog’s weight, only for Goliath to release a deep, satisfied sigh and settle in even more.

Sevika let out a sharp snort. "Boss, I think he’s claiming you."

"He is smothering me," Silco deadpanned.

"Same thing."

"Am I the mountain in this scenario?" Silco muttered to himself, exasperated. "Because he is certainly climbing me like one."

Goliath let out a deep huff and burrowed his face into Silco’s coat, completely oblivious to the crime lord’s suffering.

Sevika completely lost it. She threw her head back, laughing in a way Silco rarely heard. "He likes you, boss!"

Silco leaned around the massive dog to fix her with a flat stare. "That is not reassuring."

At that exact moment, the door swung open, and Y/N stepped inside, taking in the sight before her—

Silco, half-buried under Goliath, looking utterly done. Sevika, doubled over in laughter.

Y/N grinned. "Aww, he chose you!"

Silco slowly turned his exhausted, soul-deep stare on her. "Take. Your. Dog."

Y/N only snorted, reaching out to scratch behind Goliath’s ears. "You’re such a good boy, aren’t you?"

Goliath thumped his tail, utterly unbothered.

Sevika grinned. "So, boss, what’s next? You taking him on walks? Maybe getting him a matching coat?"

Silco let out a long, suffering sigh. "I’m never forgiving you for this, Y/N."

Y/N, still grinning, scooped Goliath off him—though it took considerable effort. "I knew you'd be fine."

Silco muttered something about putting a bounty on his own head, while Sevika wiped a tear from her eye, still chuckling.

=

The Next Morning

Y/N knocked on Silco’s office door, a bright smile on her face. "Hey, Silco, I need another favour—"

The door creaked open just a fraction.

Silco’s mismatched eyes met hers through the gap, dark circles underlining his exhaustion.

His voice was flat. "No."

The door shut.

Y/N blinked. Then she looked down at Goliath, who panted happily beside her.

"You really did a number on him, huh?"

Goliath wagged his tail, looking far too pleased with himself.

JINX/POWDER

/N sat on the worn leather couch, the rhythmic motion of her sewing machine filling the room with a steady hum as she worked on patching up one of Jinx's pants. The soft flicker of the lamp above cast a warm glow across the space, contrasting the chilly air that had settled into the small room. But it wasn’t the lamp's glow that kept her attention. It was the large, powerful figure of Thor, the Alaskan Malamute, who lay sprawled out beside her. His thick, snowy fur was tousled in places from the day’s adventures, and his calm, steady gaze rested on her as she worked. Thor’s size was impossible to ignore, yet his presence was so gentle, so comforting. He had become a quiet anchor in her life, always nearby when she needed him most, just as he had always been for the kids.

The sound of scuffling boots approached the door, followed by a voice that immediately lifted the atmosphere in the room.

“Y/N! Is Thor in there?” Jinx’s voice rang out, full of energy and excitement. Her high-pitched, almost sing-song tone was unmistakable. A wild grin appeared in the doorway as she bounced in, a whirlwind of unpredictable energy. Her wide blue eyes locked onto the massive dog, and without missing a beat, she practically flew towards him.

“Thor!” Jinx squealed, her voice full of pure joy.

Thor, ever the gentle giant, stood from his resting place with slow grace, his massive paws thudding softly on the floor. His wide, expressive eyes softened as they found Jinx. She didn’t even wait for him to fully stand before she threw herself at him. The moment her arms wrapped around his thick neck, Thor’s tail began to wag, creating a low thrum in the room as it hit the floor.

“Who’s my good boy, huh?” Jinx cooed, her face practically buried in his fur. She pressed her cheek against his massive, soft coat, laughing as she felt the warmth of his body radiate against hers. The Malamute’s thick, plush fur seemed to absorb all of her chaos and return it with unwavering affection.

Y/N smiled softly as she watched them. It always amazed her how easily Jinx, with her unpredictable and fiery personality, had found such a calm, soothing companion in Thor. There was a bond between them, one that was built on trust and the kind of wild, unconditional love that only an animal like Thor could offer.

“You two are inseparable, aren’t you?” Y/N mused, pausing her work for a moment, her hands resting on the worn fabric of the jacket. She looked over at the pair, her lips curving into a fond smile as Jinx continued to giggle, curling herself up against Thor’s enormous frame. The dog’s thick tail thumped the ground in approval, his dark eyes soft and relaxed.

“Yeah! He’s like... my giant fuzzy teddy bear!” Jinx exclaimed, her voice bubbling with excitement. Thor seemed content to just let her cling to him, his massive body completely still as he absorbed the affection.

Y/N couldn’t help but chuckle. The dog was built like a powerhouse—strong, robust, and as imposing as any beast could be. Yet, he was as patient and tender as a pup when it came to Jinx. There was something about him that grounded her. Perhaps it was his quiet, steady presence, or maybe it was his ability to see past the chaos of her nature and simply offer her a moment of peace.

After a few moments, Jinx’s face lit up again.

“Hey, Y/N, can I take him out for a walk? Please?” she asked, her eyes wide and filled with innocent pleading. “I promise I won’t make him run too fast. He deserves a little freedom, right?”

Y/N raised an eyebrow, a slight smirk tugging at her lips. “You know how strong he is, Jinx,” she warned gently, knowing well how hard it could be for anyone to keep up with Thor when he was on a roll. “Don’t let him drag you around, alright? And don’t go anywhere too dangerous.”

Jinx pouted playfully, giving Y/N her most exaggerated, pleading expression. “I’ll be fine! Thor and I are practically invincible together!” she declared, already bounding towards the door, grabbing his leash.

Thor’s large, dark eyes shifted from Jinx to Y/N before he bounded towards the door, his powerful frame moving with an energy that surprised anyone who didn’t know him well. Jinx was already tugging at the leash, practically bouncing with excitement.

“Alright, alright,” Y/N said, shaking her head with a smile as she watched them head out. “Just... don’t let him get too carried away.” She stood up and followed them to the door, a look of playful concern crossing her face.

As Jinx led Thor out into the crisp air, Y/N couldn’t help but smile, watching them disappear into the street. It was moments like these—quiet moments of calm after chaos—that reminded her how much Jinx had grown and how she had come to find her own sense of peace, even if it was in the form of a giant, affectionate dog. Thor was her companion, her protector, her furry confidante—and Y/N knew that, with him by her side, Jinx had a little piece of comfort, just like everyone else who had come to love the big dog.

Y/N returned to the couch, picking up her sewing once more, the gentle sound of the machine filling the room again. Despite the temporary stillness in the house, she knew that in their own way, they were all home.

[withlovemark]

“how to ask your girlfriend if you’re bad at sex?”

warnings: smut! vibrator, protected sex, overstimulation, squirting

jisung! rummages through your drawers looking for your phone charger, his phone a little under 20%, when he stumbled upon a pink device, half the size of his hand, with a hello kitty top, confusion etched onto his face.

bringing it closer, he examines his new discovery. clicking on the one button he could find, the device comes to life, vibration coursing through his fingers.

he drops it in shock, finally realizing what it was before furiously shutting it off as fast as he could, every click just switching to a new beat before finally powering off and throwing it back where he found it, slamming! your drawer shut.

why the hell did you have a vibrator?

“sungie, you okay in there?,” you yell from your living room.

“y-yeah baby! just dropped my phone,” he replies quickly pulling his phone out of his pocket and doing the only thing he could think of.

—

*7 dream, 1 cup*

jisung: hypothetically…

haechan: i’m sleeping.

jisung: if u find a hypothetical hello kitty vibrator in ur girl’s hypothetical drawer, does that mean ur bad at sex…hypothetically?

haechan: im up

chenle: yes

mark: no

jisung: mark pls elaborate

chenle: fuck u how about me?

jisung: idgaf about ur opinion!

haechan: yeah! wdgaf!

chenle: k. all im saying is my girl doesn’t need a vibrator with how good my dick is

mark: don’t listen to him, think of the vibrator as your friend 🙂‍↕️

jisung: this isn’t about me! it’s hypothetical!

haechan: yeah, i agree with mark … my girl and i tried it last month and 😩😮‍💨🤯🪦💐🕊️☁️👼👍

mark: too much unwanted information about ur sex life but yeah same here, felt like i died and went to heaven for a split second too

haechan: omg what type of vibrator ur girl got? 😛

mark: not telling you

haechan: ☹️

chenle: real men used to go to war for pussy now they let a battery operated device beat them at sex

haechan: stfu chenle u know nothing!

mark: real men used to go to war for pussy now they’re scared once their girl touches a vibrator she’ll never need his dick again

haechan: ooooohhhh get him!

*chenle has left the gc*

haechan: dramatic ass bitch, no one add him back!

jeno: what’s happening here?

*renjun has added chenle to the gc*

mark: couldn’t even last a second 😂

haechan: renjun you traitor!

renjun: i actually don’t give a fuck!, jisung just go talk to your girlfriend about it for the love of god! and chenle stop messaging me!

chenle: just ordered a vibrator, gonna prove to yall that my girl don’t need that shit

haechan: which one did u get? u want recs? 🤓

jaemin: jisung can you ask y/n where she got her hello kitty vibrator so i can get one for my girl? 🥺

jisung: this is not about y/n!

—

he sighs in frustration, his friends were absolutely no help but he was more at ease knowing that their girlfriends had one too. taking renjun’s advice, he decides to just talk to you about it but he couldn’t find a way to do so.

he stays there on your bed googling how to ask your gf if you're bad at sex?, until his phone died, leaving him staring at the wall.

you entered the room, eyeing him suspiciously, he was supposed to be back in the living room 30 minutes ago, it doesn’t take that long to grab your charger, “you okay?” you ask.

“amibadatsex?,” he quickly blurts out, brain completely shutting down.

“what?,”

“am i bad at sex?,”

“what?! no!,”

“oh…”

“is there a reason why you’re asking this?,”

“i uhm…found your vibrator”

your cheeks heat up in embarrassment, “oh my god jisung, why were you snooping through my stuff!?”

“i wasn’t! i was just looking for your charger, i swear!,” he nervously explains, eyes almost bulging out of their sockets.

“i-i got one when you were on tour,” you confessed, cheeks still pink from this conversation.

“oh…,”

”yeah…” you look down at your feet, just wanting the ground to open up, swallow you whole and take you away from this conversation.

jisung walks over to where you were standing, gently turning your face towards him, “you don’t have to be embarrassed baby but can you please tell me why?, i don’t feel too good about it,” he reveals his insecurity and you knew you had to clear things up.

“i just- i couldn’t cum with my fingers alone anymore…i needed yours but of course that wasn’t possible so i decided to try it out”

he feels his pants tighten at your confession. the image of you getting frustrated at not being able to cum without him going straight to his cock.

“did it work?,”

“uhm yeah, it actually did….but it can never make me feel the way you do,” you admit, easing his worries.

he thinks back to what mark and haechan said. “can i try it?,”

“huh? i mean sure, i don’t know what it would feel like for you though,”

“oh my god no….can i try it on you?,”

“oh…like you’re gonna use it on me?,”

“yeah, can i play with you?,”

“oh o-okay,”

slowly you walk over, grabbing the vibrator out of your drawer and handing it to him, nerves of excitement bubbling through you.

“how does it work?,” he asks, inspecting the pink device again.

“well, it has 8 different vibrations, i usually just use the first 3, they feel the best for me and well you just place it where you would usually touch me,” you explain and he nods attentively.

“sit down,” he backs you into your bed, voice going an octave deeper and all you can do is follow his order.

sitting on the edge of your bed, jisung kneels down right in front of your core, you watch him, feeling yourself getting more turned on with every second that passes.

he pulls your shorts down, hips automatically raising up, before diving back into your clothed core, breathing in your scent and pulling your panties to the side, “you’re already so wet baby,” he praises licking a strip down your folds. there’s no way your vibrator is going to taste you before he does.

“does it turn you on knowing what i'm about to do?,”

you moan in response pussy clenching at nothing, “stop teasing sung please,”

jisung clicks the device once, the vibration hitting your ears in the quiet room, quickly pushing it on your cunt. you hiss at the first contact and he pulls it away, afraid he had hurt you, “what? what happened? are you okay?,”

“im okay sungie it was just too much too quick,” you smile, “here,” you guide him back to your pussy, “just push it lightly first, let me get used to it,” he does so, moving your vibrator in slow circles until it finally hit you at the righ spot, “ohhh, f-fuck,” you moan. jisung takes note of it, placing it there again earning another whine from you, “r-right there, baby, turn it up”

he clicks it again, the device gaining more speed before placing it back on your wet pussy, “oh my god!,” you moan, hand clutching his t-shirt, pussy clenching around air, “f-feel what im feeling baby,” you say, grabbing his other hand and leading it right to your hole. his fingers disappearing in you, “you’re so fucking tight,” he compliments in awe.

with the way he has curled his finger repetitively hitting that spot you can never seem to reach, the vibrator humming against your clit, your body gives in quicker than usual, “i-im cumming, baby i-dont stop, keep it right there,” you moan, pushing his hand harder, the added pressure finally sending you to release, back hitting your bedsheets, eyes rolling back. jisung watches in amazement, collecting the juices with his tongue making you whine.

all he could think about is if you were that tight around his finger, how would you feel around his throbbing cock.

“i need to feel you,” he makes his way over to you, soft lips landing on yours as you taste yourself in his tongue. he pushes his body on top of yours, making you feel his hard member, “you feel that baby? that’s how much i need you”

you swiftly discard his tight jeans, freeing him from his boxers, large cock springing up to his stomach. reaching for the condom in your nightstand, you place it on him, he moans at the squeeze of your hand, his rock hard boner somehow getting harder and you start getting worried. his cock was always enough to make you see stars but with the added vibrations you’re not too sure if you could take it.

you didn’t have much time to dwell on it as he lined up against your core, slowly entering you, moans mixing in the air.

“fuck jisung, y-you’re so big,”

“baby,” he grunts, rocking into you, your wet pussy making it easy for him to slide in and out.

he grabs your vibrator again, clicking it on and placing it back on your clit, pussy immediately tightening around him. he groans as you pull him closer and closer towards you, the vibration going straight to his cock, “holy fuck,” he gasps at the new sensation.

“f-feels so good sungie,” you whine against his ear, hips meeting his every thrust, getting quicker and quicker. the rest of your clothes being thrown across the room. you grab onto his back for support.

with his body against you and yours still being sensitive from your previous orgasm, jisung feels you cum hard. you were so fucking tight around his dick, it all feels too good. his lips swallow your moans as he continues his actions, desperately chasing his release.

“j-jisung” you gasp in pain, vibrator still placed firmly on your clit, but your boyfriend’s thrusts were getting messier and messier, signaling his nearing orgasm, and you wanted him to cum just as hard.

soon enough the pain turned into pleasure, a new commotion stirring up in your stomach, down to your toes. you no longer understand the feeling that’s taking over.

your vibrator has made you cum so many times before but you never felt it work with your boyfriend’s dick — this was entirely new territory.

“f-fuck, j-jisung, i’m gonna-,” you scream at the overstimulation, legs shaking, toes curling and before you knew it your pussy pushed him away, juices squirting onto his belly.

“holy shit babe,” he groans, the action sends jisung into overdrive, watching it all unfold as his release quickly fills up the condom, “aghhh,” he grunts in pleasure, body going slack on yours as you tried to calm your racing hearts.

“what just happened?,” he asks in amazement.

“i-i think i just squirted,”

“you think?”

“i think so, i-i don't know, it's never happened before,” you confess, getting embarrassed. he can’t help but smirk proudly, knowing that he was the first and only person to get you to do that.

jisung kisses you before you have the chance to hide behind your embarrassment.

“that was so. fucking. hot,” he compliments in between kisses” let’s do it again”

—

he finally finds your charger on top of your desk, his phone coming alive. in just a span of 2 hours he and his new friend have made you cum a total of 6 times, him 4, the room smelling of sex. and honestly he could go again but you have made him stop for now, body exhausted.

*7 dream, 1 cup*

jisung: hi chat

haechan: he’s alive! so how was it? tell us everything! 😏

chenle: no one cares

haechan: i care!

mark: yo dude u good? you just stopped responding

jisung: sorry, phone died

jisung: can confirm

jisung: 😩😮‍💨🤯🪦💐🕊️☁️👼👍

*haechan reacted 🤩 to your message*

*mark reacted 😂 to your message*

renjun: you’re welcome

chenle: just paid for expedited shipping yall better not be lying to me rn

jaemin: jisung did you ever ask y/n where she got it?

jisung: oh it’s at www.NowCummingToday.com/sanriocollab-hellokitty-vibrator

jaemin: thank you!! 😚

renjun: that can’t be a real site

jeno: holy shit they have so many options

chenle: robots are gonna take over my girls pussy and it’s your faults

haechan: ooh! try the rose toy! that one’s crazy ahaha 🤓

jisung: 🫡

mark: 🫡

jaemin: 🫡

an: happy bday to my baby jisung <3 (p.s. i tried to do the little smau text thing bcs those are my favorites to read but i honestly couldn’t find an app that was free plus too lazy to figure it out so sorry!…if anyone has tips pls let me know >.< )

[lavenderprose]

At some point, for some reason, Rook had misinterpreted the term 'letters'.

Perhaps it was because Bellara had said it so breathlessly--though Bellara says lots of things breathlessly, given she speaks at about the speed of magic itself. Perhaps it was the smile she'd used when she said 'the Professor'. But Bellara smiles most of the time. In the end it doesn't matter how it happened. The result was the same: Rook heard Bellara talk about these letters, this necromancer she was writing to, and figured they were passing love letters. Odd, very lingo-heavy love letters that contained a lot of side conversation about magical artifacts and the stability of the Veil, but love letters nonetheless.

Rook meets Emmrich and hears him call Bellara 'dear' and knows it must be true. Rook also meets Emmrich and wants to climb him like a tree, but she's always been into that kind of academic, willowy, never-met-the-sun kind of look. Necromancers. Rook's always been into necromancers. She is one. It's pretty normal.

"You must be excited to finally meet him in person," Rook says to Bellara while they're following Emmrich through the Shrouded Halls. Emmrich extols the wonder of life and death in between completely demolishing Venatori in a way that feels bone-shatteringly powerful.

"Oh yeah," Bellara says, and grins. "Arlathan is pretty far from Nevarra, so I didn't think we'd ever actually meet, but it's pretty cool that we did! Professor Emmrich is really knowledgeable, not just about the Fade, but music and art and--"

"Hmm neat!" Rook says, instead of Alright girl keep it in your pants because she actually really likes Bellara and she can't blame her. Emmrich Volkarin is six-foot-three, hazel-eyed and has a voice like candlelit red wine. He'd be a dream come true for any young mage with a little too much to say and a few too many nights alone in their recent past.

Of which there are two in the room.

Anyway.

It's not a big deal. The others don't really seem fussed over the fact that Bellara has brought her sneaky link into the fold and Emmrich is bonkers capable, so it doesn't really matter whether or not he's sourced from some horny letters. He also comes highly recommended from the Mourn Watch, and that's enough for Rook.

They keep things pretty subtle too. Rook never sees them kiss or even really touch, and Bellara seems too busy with the archive spirit to do much other than tinker with it outside of missions. Emmrich always seems to have something to be doing as well. If anything, he seems to spend more time with Rook than Bellara--and this is the source of the issue.

The spark of attraction in the Necropolis grows to nothing short of a blazing inferno. Emmrich invites Rook to the Memorial Gardens, performs the rituals with her, calls her recitation of the rites masterful. He takes her arm in the crook of his own as they walk the paths. He finds her in the kitchen in the evenings and sits next to her, legs crossed in that neat and proper way, and she sits there and lets the heat of his thigh burn into hers until she has to get up and go find something to occupy her hands. He does everything short of lay his jacket over puddles for her like some prince in a storybook--though even that, she wouldn't put past him. She sees him staring at her during a soaking downpour in Minrathous one time, but it's always raining in Minrathous.

Jealousy is an insidious emotion that the Mourn Watch warns against specifically. It will make a monster of the most benevolent, if it takes hold. Rook struggles not to let it. This gets harder and harder, the more time she spends in Emmrich's company and the more he seeks her out. He'll say, "I'm so pleased to have a fellow Watcher to talk to, Rook," and she'll smile and pretend she isn't actively resisting the urge to stare at his lips. He'll say, "I am continually impressed by your keen skills of observation, my dear" and she'll only be capable of nodding because she's trying to clear a daydream from her head. Something about him and one of the geothermal underground pools in the Necropolis and a mysteriously disappearing set of clothing. He'll say, "I find myself continually waiting for the next time we'll have one of our chats, Rook--they're becoming something I find great comfort in," and Rook won't even hear what he's saying, because she's trying so hard to shove him, the concept of him, into a little box in her head labeled Bellara's--Do Not Touch.

It gets a little ridiculous. She stops taking them on missions together, because the sound of them chattering on about Fade harmonics behind her makes her want to absolutely chew glass. On the off chance she sees one of them come out of the other's room, which does not happen very often at all but has, on a handful of occasions, she'll turn herself around and sit herself down on Solas' stupid fuck-ugly green meditation couch until she feels a little less like her head is going to pop off. One time, she falls asleep while doing this and has to deal with a particularly weird conversation with Solas where she's too keyed up to do much more than grunt along to his typical long-winded pontification and he ends the conversation with something along the lines of, "Perhaps you should reexamine some details of your situation that you have taken as fact. You may find them not so."

"Could you just say something that's not buried under five layers of innuendo," Rook thinks, and unfortunately also says out loud, because she's not actually allowed to think just in her head in these Solas-dreams. He scowls at her and rolls his eyes. They're both doing the Fade-space equivalent of blowing raspberries at each other by the time she wakes up.

It all comes to a head in Arlathan, because they've camped with the Veil Jumpers for the night and Rook needs to ask Bellara a question. She thinks nothing of whipping open the flap to Bellara's tent, because Bellara is almost always awake until the stars have been overhead for hours and Emmrich--who was obliged to come along, just this once, because they're in Arlathan specifically for haunting-related reasons--is visible across the camp, wiggling carrots through the bars of Gus the Nug's cage. There is a small, tender smile on his face as he listens to the nug snort and whuffle. Rook suddenly remembers the story about the pig he used to hug as a kid, and then her heart jumps a little, and--

Well, anyway, there shouldn't be a reason not to let herself into Bellara's tent.

There is, in fact, a reason not to let herself into Bellara's tent.

That reason is named Irelin, whose body Rook now knows about in much more expansive detail than she did a few minutes ago. Bellara's too, though most of that was covered by--well, by Irelin.

"Maker!" they all three scream in unison, and Rook all but sommersaults back out of the tent.

"Sorry," she yells through the flap. "Sor--sorry, I didn't--"

"It's fiiine," Bellara yells back. Her head pokes through after a minute. Her hair is down and disappears somewhere back inside the tent. She looks like an almost completely different person with it framing her face like that. "Hey, um--you could, like...knock next time? I mean, I know you can't really knock on a tent--"

"Everything alright over here?" Emmrich has appeared, and Rook's tongue seems to grow three sizes in her mouth.

Oh shit! is all her brain will supply, so she doesn't really respond. She thinks she's willing enough to respect Girl Code, such as it is, that she won't tell Emmrich about the whole Irelin thing. Because maybe that's how their relationship works, or maybe Emmrich already knows, or maybe it's none of her business--

Or maybe something really weird is happening, because Bellara looks at Emmrich and her expression does nothing but get a little more annoyed, and she sighs, "It's fine. No worries, Professor. Just, could you guys--y'know, privacy?"

Then Irelin makes a noise from inside the tent, and it's pretty clear at that point what's just happened, but Emmrich just blushes a little and says, "Ah," and then wraps his hand around Rook's arm and leads her away, back towards the cage with Gus.

"Okay," Rook says, as Gus sniffs her boot on the off chance it contains carrots. "That was weird."

"I fear there are bound to be clashes when multiple cultures blend, my dear," Emmrich tells her, a low murmur directly into her ear. "We in Nevarra, especially amongst the Mourn Watch, are slightly more--shall we say, open? Don't take it personally that Bellara withheld the information of her liaison with Irelin. I don't think it was done maliciously."

"No, I mean--why aren't you--upset?"

Emmrich's brows furrow. "Whyever would I be upset? I'm hardly a prude, Rook. These are difficult times, and any small piece of comfort one can find should be readily taken. A tent in the middle of a busy camp is an...interesting location, but I understand our dear Bellara has history with Irelin, and should the object of my affections be willing--"

"No, no, I mean--you're not--are you okay with this? You and Bellara have some kind of..." Rook scrambles about for an accurate word. "Agreement? About this kind of stuff?"

Emmrich's eyebrows do an odd, fluttery sort of thing that reminds Rook of a puppet she once saw being manipulated by a group of playful wisps. Sort of like his face is trying to show half a dozen emotions at once.

"Why on earth would Bellara and I have ever spoken about her sex life," he says flatly, and far more bluntly than Rook is used to him being. Heat floods her body as she realizes that she has, somewhere along the way, wildly misunderstood something.

"I," says Rook, "have made a mistake."

"Rook," he says, with a voice like he's trying to diffuse a spell primed to explode, "Darling. If you thought Bellara and I were involved, would you mind enlightening me exactly as to...what you think my intentions were when I took you to the Memorial Gardens."

Rook wonders if Gus the nug could be persuaded to eat her whole.

"Enrichment?" she mutters.

"Enrichment," Emmrich sighs under his breath.

There is a long, gravid beat of silence.

"That clearing we passed earlier," Rook mumbles under her breath, once the world is done tilting on its axis. "Looked enriching."

"Quite," Emmrich says promptly. He grabs her by the hand and only grins a little when she releases a frantic, giddy giggle as he pulls her away from the camp.

[bloatedandalone04]

Only You

Summary: You and Rafe drive each other crazy in every way possible, and whenever you get a little too mouthy, he has no problem putting you back in your place.

Word Count: 2.1k

Warnings: angst, smut, unprotected sex, rough sex, toxic rafe, toxic relationship tbh, swearing, spanking, name calling, dirty talk, kinda cruel rafe, but he still loves you, size difference, so ig size kink, possessive rafe, back door touching, bc rafe is an ass man and i will die on that hill.

Rafe was watching you storm around his room, his arms crossed as a smirk formed on his lips. You had once again threatened to break up with him over yet another dumb fucking reason, and he wasn’t having it. He’d let you have it, though. But only for a little bit.

“God, you’re so fucking annoying,” you muttered as you pulled apart his bed in search of your phone. 

Your phone that Rafe had hidden in his back pocket. 

The speakers on his dresser were blaring out loud music, but he still heard you as clear as day. “I know, baby,” he cooed, and his smirk grew when you let out an annoyed scoff.

Your dress swayed with you as you looked around his room for your phone, your brows drawn together in a way that made a cute crease form on your forehead. You were so damn cute and sweet looking, even though you were acting like a spoiled brat at the moment. 

“Are you gonna calm down?” Rafe asked, leaning back against his door as he blocked the only exit of his room. “Or do I need to bend you over and make you calm down?” he added, knowing the effect his words have on you. 

Really, all he wanted to do was strip you bare, eat your sweet, addictive pussy, make you cum on his tongue, then fuck you from behind, but you were acting up like always.  

You huffed, tossing his pillows back onto his unmade bed before beginning to look through the various clothing he had on the floor. “I’m not going to calm down,” you answered, standing back up straight once you realized that your phone wasn’t under any of his clothes. “Where the fuck is it? I know you have it. Or you fucking hid it from me. Where is it, Rafe?” 

Rafe smirked at you as he watched you place your hands on your hips, and it only grew when you pressed your thighs together after not so subtly looking him up and down. 

“I want it, because I’m leaving,” you say, but your voice didn’t sound as convincing as you had hoped it would. “I’m serious. I’m leaving.”

Rafe raised a brow at your threat, a smug grin forming on his lips as he took a step towards you. “Oh really? Without your precious phone?” he mocked, reaching out to grab your chin and tilt your head up to meet his intense stare. “Listen, princess, you’re not going anywhere until we settle this.” 

You glared up at him, but it only further fueled his desire to tame your bratty attitude even more. To show you that you couldn’t live without him, like he couldn’t live without you. 

“And I don’t think you want to leave me anyway,” he continued, his thumb brushing along your bottom lip as he towered over you. “You and I both know how much you fucking love being mine.”

You cursed under your breath, your eyes narrowed as you glared harder at him, but as much as you tried to be intimidating or powerful, you both knew you were only playing it up. “I can’t stand you sometimes,” you mutter, reaching up to fist his shirt in your hands as you move closer to him. “I think I’d fucking hate you if I wasn’t already so fucking in love with you.” 

Then you were pulling him down by his shirt as you leaned up halfway, your lips meeting in a deep, messy and hard kiss. Rafe grunted against your lips, his hands immediately going to your ass. He squeezed it before lifting you up against his body, guiding your legs to wrap around his waist as he walked over to his bed.

He broke the kiss as he tossed you down onto the sheets, his eyes dark and needy as he reached into his pocket and pulled out your phone before he dropped it onto the floor. One of his shirts saved it from being broken as he moved to crawl on top of you, his hardness pressing against your belly as he reached down to grab your wrists. “You’re such a pain in the ass,” he muttered, pinning your arms above your head. “But I love it. I fucking love everything about you, even when you’re driving me insane.”

He leaned down and kissed you a few more times, reveling in the soft whines you let out, before he pulled away and flipped you onto your stomach, yanking your dress up around your hips. He teased the waistline of your panties before pulling them down your thighs, revealing just how wet you’d gotten for him during your fight. 

“Let’s see if I can get you to use that pretty mouth of yours in a better way,” he rasped, his rough fingers digging into your thighs as he spread them wider, exposing your wet pussy to his hungry eyes. 

Rafe dropped to his knees on the floor behind you, his lips pressing soft kisses along the dip in your back before he moved lower. He leaned in and licked a long, slow stripe up your slit, and a low groan left the back of his throat at your taste. 

He fucking loved going down on you, loved how sweet you tasted on his tongue. He loved kissing you, licking you and touching you all over, and coaxing those pretty sounds from your mouth. 

Rafe let go of your thighs, instead letting his hands palm your ass again before he spread your soft cheeks and moaned at the sight of your puckered rosebud. “Fuck, look at you,” he mumbled, dragging his index finger through your folds and teasing your tightest hole. “So pink and pretty, aren’t you?”  

“Rafe,” you whined, wiggling back against him. 

Impatient, as always. 

Rafe smirked and stood back up, pulling off his shirt and tossing it aside. “Not so tough now, huh?” he taunted, giving your ass a firm smack that had you letting out a sharp gasp. “Still wanna leave me?” 

You whimpered and shook your head as Rafe pushed down his jeans and kicked them aside before stepping towards you again. He braced one knee on the bed as he lined up his hard cock with your core, teasing your folds with the head of his dick. “Rafe,” you whined again, and he was growing tired of your complaints. 

So he shut you up as he slid inside you, filling you up entirely in one deep stroke. “Fuck. You’re so tight,” he grunted, his hands gripping your hips harshly as he used them as leverage to fuck you hard from behind. “You’re mine, baby. No one else gets to feel this tight pussy but me. Isn’t that right?” 

You let out a needy moan that sounded like something straight out of a porno at his words, his protectiveness and possessiveness over you never failing to rile you up. “Fuck,” you moaned, fisting his sheets tightly as he slid in and out of you. “Fuck yes, I’m yours…all yours.”

Rafe loved how easily you caved and gave into him, and he reveled in the power he holds over you. “That’s right, baby,” he groaned, pulling out almost all the way before thrusting back in. “You’ve always been mine. You always will be.”

You only got louder at that, like he knew you would, and he could clearly hear you over the music that had quickly become background noise. No matter how much you tried to deny it, you loved when Rafe said things like that, when he took control completely. 

He was fucking you hard and rough, sending your body jolting forward with every thrust of his hips. “Take it, fucking brat,” he muttered, running his palm over the reddened skin of your ass before he spanked you again. “This is what happens when you threaten to leave me.”

Rafe’s fingers dug into the skin of your hips as he leaned over your back and pressed his mouth to yours in a rough, dominating kiss that was all tongue and teeth as he claimed you in a different way.  

You moaned against his mouth as you kissed him back, the angle a little awkward and straining on your neck, but you didn’t care. “Is that supposed to make me not want to do it again?” you purred, your voice low and seductive as you pulled away from his mouth, both yours and his lips wet and puffy. “If it leads to me getting fucked like this, why wouldn’t I threaten to leave you again?” 

Rafe growled under his breath as he squeezed your red, sore ass. “Oh, you’d like that, wouldn’t you?” he asked, his deep voice steady as he pulled out of you and flipped you onto your back with little effort. “You’d love to see me chasing after you, begging for another chance to bury myself in your perfect pussy, huh?”

He didn’t let you answer him before he crawled on top of you again, pinning your wrists above your head once more with one hand as he slid back inside you, resuming the relentless fucks of his hips. 

“You think you’re so fucking smart, don’t you?” he rasped, his lips brushing against your ear as his hips hit yours over and over again. “But you’ll never leave me, baby. I’ll tie you to my fucking bed if I have to. You’re mine.”

Your eyes rolled back at the new position, this one allowing his cock to brush against the sweet spot deep inside of you that had your toes curling a bit. “Rafe…fuck, baby,” you moaned, pushing weakly against his hand, but he was a lot stronger than you, a lot bigger than you, so you let him keep your arms above your head. “Feels so fucking good.” you whined, arching your back in a way that had your breasts straining against the fabric of your dress. 

“I know, princess. You’re addicted to my cock, aren’t you?” Rafe taunted, his fingers teasing the thin straps of your dress. Then, with a swift tug, he ripped the flimsy material down the middle, completely ruining your dress beyond repair as he exposed your tits to his greedy gaze. Your eyes were wide as he roughly palmed and kneaded your soft skin, his thumb brushing over your sensitive nipple as he watched the way your chest bounced with every thrust. “Fuck, you’re so gorgeous. So fucking hot, baby.” 

Rafe released your wrists and sat back on his knees, his hands wrapping around your thighs as he spread them wider apart. It gave him the perfect view of your pussy, so wet for him and stuffed with his cock as he stretched you out. “Rafe…oh, God, I’m gonna cum,” you whimpered as you tipped your head back on his bed. 

He grunted, his gaze locked onto your dripping core as he watched you take every inch of him over and over again. “Fuck, look at you. So fucking pretty,” he mumbled, feeling the way you clenched tightly around him. He reached down and rubbed circles over your swollen clit, your cries of pleasure music to his ears. “Mm, yeah, cum for me, baby.”

When he felt your warmth flood around him, Rafe let out a loud grunt, fucking into you a few more times before he came as well. He filled you up entirely, his thrusts becoming less intense and more shallow before he leaned over you, making sure not to put all his body weight onto you.

You both looked debauched and wrecked as Rafe nuzzled your neck, placing softer kisses along your shoulder as he slowly pulled out of you. He ran his fingers through your messy folds before bringing them up to your lips, a lazy smirk on his mouth. “Taste us, baby,”

You licked his fingers, cleaning them of his cum with hooded eyes before you wrapped your arms around his shoulders and pulled him down onto you fully. “I can’t believe you ripped my fucking dress,” you mumbled as you ran your fingers through his messy, damp hair. 

Rafe grinned, brushing your hair out of your face before he pulled the ruined material properly off your body. “Well, it was in the way, and clearly it was one of those cheap ones, so I did you a favor,” he murmured, “No way I’m letting my girl walk around in a cheap fucking dress.”

When you pouted up at him, Rafe reached down and tugged on your bottom lip with his thumb, the argument that led to this now completely forgotten about. Like they always are. 

“Don’t worry, baby,” he cooed, “I’ll buy you another one. Or multiple if you’re good.”

[occamstfs]

Keep On Trucking

Jonah thought he'd hate the rental truck he got when he flew back home. But after throwing on a hat he found in the cabin it seems like he's liking the thing more with every passing mile.

Thought we could do with some more sentimental southerner TFs so here we are ! Happy surprise that it coincides with a certain Texan AOTY ;) Sweaty, strong, and sweet, hope you enjoy Jonah's journey to a new home in the country! -Occam

It must be some form of cosmic comedy that Jonah’s only rental option was this wretched gas-guzzling juggernaut. Sitting a good fair few feet above every other car on the road, the truck that’s been foisted onto him simply demands attention. There’s a tight-lipped grimace on his face as the laundry list of insults he’s hurled at people who drive these fragile masculinity-mobiles over the years rush through his mind.

He’d never say them to a driver of course, both from a general fear of confrontation and a healthy fear of large loud men. His insults thrown never escape the glass panes of his Elantra. Nothing more than playful jibes to help work through the fear of sharing the road with drivers who could literally roll over him, and oft seem to want to. Just barking self-soothingly, like a chihuahua at a caged great dane.

His self-consciousness at plowing down the highway is interrupted however as a small car quite similar to the one he drives back at home veers towards him. Thankfully the road is not too crowded as he swerves to avoid the red speed-demon who flips him off before shooting ahead, surging into the distance to escape the sound of Jonah’s horn blaring. 

The nervous young man clutches at his shirt as he feels his pulse in his head. Eventually he sees the red pinpricks of brake lights disappear and his hands stop shaking from the near-collision. Sighing, he tries to steady his breathing and hopes the rest of his nerves will follow suit. Only then does the strangest thought occur to him ‘Thank god I was driving a truck.’

Jonah rubs his smooth jaw and grumbles to himself, “I guess there are some upsides to driving a freakin’ tank, ugh.” As he puts it to words he can’t help but continue thinking on the matter, besides maniacs like that little punk, people are probably way more likely to respect me on the road driving this thing. He wistfully stares at the road ahead lost in thought, though before taking the leap further to the lofty thoughts that people are more likely to respect his masculinity and authority in this beast, he shakes it off and clears his throat.

“Ugh I need a coffee or something.” Squirming in the seat slightly, only then does he notice the continued discomfort from his brush with danger; He’s sweating up a storm. Cranking up the AC as high as it goes he wipes his brow and tries to push sweaty hair out from his face. When a heavy drop falls into his eyes causing him to shout a hearty “fuck!” He pulls over to the side of the road and searches for a headband or something to solve this issue, “God why’s it so hot in here!”

Looking down at his now clearly sweat-stained shirt he groans, no way is he going to show up to his hometown friend’s party looking like such a slob. He briefly considers using the sweaty top to hold back his hair but thinks better of it, giving it a sniff he finds his deodorant has not been nearly as effective as it usually is. Frowning and going straight to the source he smells his pit and immediately cringes away, “Man what is up with me today? It’s like I forgot to put it on.”

Distracted by his strange overheating, the still-present need for a headband, and now wondering what on Earth he’s going to wear to his friend’s, Jonah doesn’t notice how, beyond the bizarrely more powerful scent, he has begun to change. The few thin curls in his armpit have multiplied without his notice, stretching longer and spreading beyond their usually trimmed patch. Each new strand drips with sweat, permeating his new musk as he scrambles about the cabin looking for some bandana or hat.

“Duuuuub-” Jonah’s hand bumps into the brim of a hat which he quickly yanks out from the dark recesses of the rental truck only to tilt his head as finding a tacky camo baseball cap, “eugh-” After rubbing his hand through his sweaty hair once more, he grimaces and throws it on anyway, “sorry to whoever's hat this is-” It’s not like he’s going to be seen in the kitschy backwater cosplay, he just needs to make it to a store or somewhere where he can buy a shirt and hair tie, then he’ll be scot-free.

Checking the time with a gasp he returns to the open road without much thought at all, leaving him totally unaware as his hair begins to creep into the cap. Long dirty blonde curls shorn to almost nothing, shortening into some short masc choppy look that doesn’t even have a name. Far from his mind’s eye the idea of going to a barber for years buries itself and begins spreading tendrils towards other inactive memories, “Been a few weeks Rob- Just give me the usual.” Were he to picture the memory he would surely see a man who is not himself in the mirror.

The mirror? His eyes glance to his rearview and he gasps as he sees it’s suddenly angled way off. His usual anxiety quickly makes itself known in his sweaty chest. Eyes wide and on the road he doesn’t look down to catch as each quivering heartbeat leaves his chest wider, sticking out further as disparate strands of muscle begin to bulge. In the few half-seconds of him checking his other mirrors Jonah’s chest begins packing on quite the impressive pecs. “Musta- er Must’ve bumped it or, something?”

Going to adjust the mirror his usually careful hand forcefully bumps into it, grunting he wonders how. He didn’t even lean forward, which he knows he had to do when he first got in the truck. His arm would have to be almost half a foot longer. Throwing his hazards on he quickly pulls over once more, again neglecting to notice his changed hair in the mirror as he instead gasps in shock as he sees the arm of a behemoth dangling from his shoulder. 

In the minute since throwing on the ratty ball cap his arms have begun to grow. Every twitching movement on the wheel, every extension, even the slightest adjustment of his now less-than delicate fingers has been sending waves of change across forearms to which the idea of muscle definition is anathema. His mouth falls open as he takes notice of biceps that would have easily erupted from the sweat-stained shirt he had on, or rather, any shirt he owns. 

Jonah tries to process the meaty hands at the end of meatier arms, staring at the movement of individual muscle fibers under tight, suddenly tanned skin. He gulps as he sees them twitch with every accidental movement, power he can hardly understand coursing through them. His lip quivers into a grin as the idea occurs to flex them and he raises his arm to do so, exposing his tangle of pit hair and allowing sweat to drip down his chest.

Though just before getting the chance to truly indulge and delight, feeling the cold rivulet racing down his side he looks down to discover the new weight hanging on his chest. His eyes shimmer with wonder as he stares at pecs as sculpted as Michelangelo’s David now bulge from under his neck as it too thickens with another harsh swallow. His voice drops while his rougher hands go to cup his pecs, rubbing the few apparently shaved hairs as they begin their regrowth.

Despite his usual lucidity and rationality, something about seeing the rugged arms and chest of a man twice his size, something about feeling the strain of new biceps moving or seeing his handful of almost invisible chest hairs darkening alongside a congregation of new curls, his mind is awash with instincts that don’t seem his own. He smirks as he looks at his reflection in the now-adjusted mirror, higher in the seat both from his body lengthening as well as from sitting straighter with pride, he scratches at the stubble appearing on his chin and turns back to the road thicker brows furrowed into a cocky sneer, “They’re gonna be all fuckin’ over me at this party.”

Dragging his attention from his bulking body back to the road, Jonah can’t help but continue thinking about what a stud he’s becoming, what a stud he is. So focused on the strength ambient within him, delighting on the sensations coursing through him as he playfully flexes his arms and chest, that he hasn’t chance to notice his thoughts truly changing alongside his form. Suddenly a Texas-shaped bottle opener dangles from the set of keys that look far too beat up for a rental company to hand out. Obviously of course, why would a rental company have his truck?

One hand on the steering wheel, Jonah can no longer resist groping at the growing bulge that strains his pants. While it’s been certainly hard since the first glimpse of his bulging bicep, as his pride grows so does what may as well be the source of his masculinity. With each clumsy rub and grasp of his package as it threatens to break free from his pants, he continues to become the man to match his apparent wheels.

So too does his truck slightly shift to perfectly display the man that now identifies as its owner. The floorboard where a ball cap was hidden is littered with detritus from living in the country. Dirt paints the once spotless chassis of the vehicle and at the same time, hair thickens on his form as pubes inch above their brief containment, connecting with a treasure trail that begs to expand.

His balls throb as his once imperceptible treasure trail indeed races to cover the whole of his stomach before racing up to a chest that yields to its own mouth-watering pattern of fur. Pits still dripping with sweat lengthen and spread tantalizingly close to meeting with his garden of chest hair.

Jonah grunts as his new bulge grows large enough that the constriction is outright painful. Freeing his impressive rod it becomes clear that his accusations of redneck truckers compensating could not be further from the truth, in his case that is. His seat creaks under his weight as he squirms to pull his pants down to his knees, freeing bulkier thighs and a perfect bubble butt as both are similarly painted with haphazard brushes of hair. Inner thighs coated with curls add to the rugged forest around his pre-dripping package while new curls on his ass tickle against his warm, sweat-covered seat.

Halfway to masturbating he bites his lip as he tries to restrain his desires and continue driving, though the pushing down of his rigid rod so easily shifts to tugs and thrusts. His sticky, wanting breaths fertilize the growth of stubble on his face that will never vacate and a mustache sticking to his upper lip that will always be just a tad thicker. Meanwhile his calloused hands continue to tantalize a cock  edging closer to a release that he will not let yet arrive. Moaning from the intense need of his loins he grits his teeth and powers down the road voice deep and clearly accented as he whispers to himself, “Gotta save mah spunk for the party…”

Still with each slow grasp and pull towards release, his form continues to pack on weight and slick with denser forests of hair. So too does his outfit change to match his new life, with each half-thrust into his hand the brim on his hat widens, its cheap camo-green fading as it becomes a Stetson that any man of his stature demands. Slightly dressy pants stain blue and roughen into jeans while his shirt disappears entirely.

Finally, shoes that have given up the ghost long ago to feet that would cause anyone’s eyes to widen begin staining brown and reforming. Long, hairy toes that stick out from the once tennis shoes are corralled into the dark, expensive leather of genuine cowboy boots. The new soles click against the pedals of his truck and his thicker brows continue to furrow as he struggles not to cum at the sound of his beast rumbling down the road.

At long last Jonah comes up on the turn to his friend’s little shindig and he sighs in relief at making it before he spills a load on himself. Turning down a long dirt driveway he narrows his eyes as he feels something amiss, would’ve sworn his friend lived in a suburb or somethin’. But then he blinks and remembers obviously not. His boys’d never wanna share their streets with self-important, pretentious pricks. 

Parking in the grass alongside a handful of other trucks, Jonah grunts as he forces his cock down his jeans, its outline quite the clarion call down his pant leg. Buttoning up and cinching a gaudy belt-buckle, Jonah steps out into the party, grabbing a couple of six packs of Lone Star and waddles over to the gathered crew. Taking a deep breath of the cold dusk air as the sun begins to sink past the horizon, though beneath the smell of the woods there is a clear undercurrent of sweaty bodies and something richer, saliter.

Depositing beers that were once a host’s gift and some seltzers, Jonah turns to be greeted by cheers of burly men that seem to have already paired off. Scratching his stubble as he looks for his own quarry his eyes alight onto one shy looking twink standing to the side. Seems he didn’t get the memo that this isn’t some post-ironic gathering, not even wearing a cowboy hat. 

More than ready for some fun, Jonah grabs a discarded hat on the table and wanders over to the lone man. The twink eyes him with a wry smile as he can’t miss the obviously altered gait, they then widen when he recognizes the man as Jonah, “J- Jonah!?” his mouth drops open and his eyes glaze over as something readjusts, “You’ve really, uhm- filled out?” Though even as he says it the idea of the late-comer looking any different than this seems incorrect. 

Jonah ignores the man, Anton, and deposits the hat on his head, leaning down he whispers in his ear, “Evenin’ Ant. You wanna go have some fun?” Anton’s mouth waters as the larger man stands close enough to wash him in musk before deliberately jabbing him with his thick bulge. He babbles something as the new hat blurs his thoughts a tad though it’s more than clear that the thin man, bored out of his mind, has been looking for excitement that only Jonah could bring all night.

Arm around Anton’s shoulder, Jonah escorts him to the back of the nearby barn, already littered with cans and clearly stained by haphazard bodily fluids. Neither man cares as they begin to use the wall just as seemingly every party-goer before them has. Jonah pushes him against the wall and the pair indulge in each other as if there were nothing else in the world. The hat falls from Ant’s head as he begins to change with or without it. His trimmed pubes rapidly stretch above his hairless waistline, racing to connect with chest hair that isn’t even there yet.

His waxed face scratches against Jonah’s itchy jaw and his mouth waters with hunger and jealousy. Before he can even consciously wish for something similar, his own face is overcome with the burning sensation of pores expanding into stubble that has never been given the chance to seed bursting forth. Soon enough his entire face is overtaken by thick lancing curls of a beard. After not much time at all the pair are worked up enough that making out is not nearly enough.

Even as his suitor puts on weight and muscle mass, Jonah easily hoists him up and finally makes use of his new heavy cock. It’s not clear how long the pair exercise their new forms behind the barn. Ant’s rushed initiation into the world of assless chaps and hairy backs and Jonah’s final steps into the hard-working world of farm living last forever and no time at all. Though by the end both men are thoroughly consumed by their new hairy, muscled selves. 

Their hairy bodies rub against each other as new lives together bloom in their minds. Maintaining a small homestead in the town they grew up in, often traveling into the nearby city to show city-folk that country boys ain’t all bad and making it clear to any small minded townies that they better treat their fellow man with respect or get what’s coming to them.

As they reach what must be the apotheosis of their new forms both men lose control at the same time. Awash in the heightened sensation of their new powerful selves and lost in love for each other stronger than they ever thought they’d achieve, Ant and Jonah stumble out from behind the barn.

Ant walking with a gait that can only mean one thing since they certainly weren’t horseback riding. The pair are jeered at by their fellow country queers and finally enjoy the party. It’s a joyous celebration of the first day of the rest of their lives surrounded by their fellow odd folk. When Jonah’s eyes fall back upon the truck he’s been driving for bout a decade now he can’t help but smile in contentment. She ain’t the prettiest wagon in the west, but she got him here. Surrounded by butches and bears alike Wade sits on a bench and pulls his man onto his lap, “Gonna be a good night Ant.” The pair crack open beers and drink in the new world around them, eager to see what their lives together have in store.

[muchosbesitos]

WICKED GAMES

marriage. what usually came as a union of love came as a status of power to the gojo clan. but before you step foot at the altar, tell him you love him. only for tonight?

FEATURING: geto suguru x princess! reader

CONTENTS: 18+ content, mdni. non canon compliant/modern setting au, arranged marriage, infidelity (ish), some angst, smut, face sitting, 69, cunnilingus, fingering, blowjob, unprotected p in v, slow missionary -> fast sex, cum eating, mention of a guillotine, mention of blood, use of pet names (my lady, princess, your highness), kinda switchy i guess, satoru mentions.

WORD COUNT: 5.2k

AUTHOR’S NOTE: happy late birthday to my wife 🥹ovulation n the weeknd helped me write this :p

the first time that suguru geto stumbled in through your window had been completely by mistake.

nothing other than a simple village boy with no actual sense of direction—just the instructions that satoru had given. pebbles dug into his palms as he climbed up the cobblestone walls of the castle—a climb further than he’d anticipated.

all just have a chance to play digimon with the only friend he’d managed to make in school.

he really should’ve stayed home.

dirt covered his once cream colored slacks, dripping and smearing all the way down to the brown boots he had on. leaving behind foot print after foot print marked on the once pristine porcelain floors.

“you should’ve given me a map of the estate grounds. your directions sucked,” he called out, his back turned as he attempted to carefully shut the windows behind him.

“i wasn’t expecting you to come in through my window in the middle of the night,” you retorted dryly, looking up from the book you were reading over to where he was standing. akin to a fish out of the water. mouth open, mouth close. you could practically hear the gears turning in his head, thinking of some excuse to get out of this.

“satoru’s room is across the hall,” you added before he had the chance to talk, flipping the page over. you expected to hear the sound of his boots squeaking across the floor, trudging to quickly make his way out of the room.

“you mind giving me a bandaid? i cut myself on the way up here,” suguru spoke unabashedly, nothing like the villagers who seemed to even be afraid to breathe wrong in your direction.

“come on, i have a first aid kit in the bathroom,” and bathroom was a severe understatement. it was practically the size of a small house and then some. suguru took a seat in front of the vanity you had set up, taking a chance to look around while you gathered the kit.

taking notice of everything scattered around, from the little trinkets of gold jewelry to the polaroids you had taped onto the mirror.

you came back a couple seconds later, plopping down next to him and opening up the red box.

“there’s a ladder in the stables for the next time satoru has you running around the castle,” you took his hand within your own, examining the cuts that littered his hands. nothing too deep, at least. you began wiping away the dried blood, a small wince leaving suguru’s lips as the alcohol seeped into the wound.

despite the sting, suguru took notice of how gentle you were being. wiping away the blood slowly and deliberately, dabbing some ointment into him with the utmost care in the world. “you didn’t have to help me,” he let out a scoff, trying to keep some of his pride intact.

trying (and failing) to hide the way his heart skipped a beat when your fingers held onto him for a little longer.

“you would’ve smeared blood all over the floor,” you answered, letting out a scoff of your own. you tossed away the dirty pads, cleaning up behind you. fully expecting suguru to leave your room now.

“do you need something else?” you raised a brow, looking over to see if he had any other injuries. for the sake of keeping the palace floors clean, of course.

“c’mon princess, no kiss for my boo boo’s?”

“get out.”

hello kitty bandaids adorned his fingers when you’d finished—bandaids that thirteen year old geto paraded around as if they were his very own medals of honor. even when the other gojo started to tease him relentlessly over them.

“they didn’t have spider-man ones or something?” gojo let out a snicker, turning on the monitor and illuminating the entirety of his dark bedroom.

“shut up. they’re not that bad,” a response that only got him more laughter from satoru. (and a long explanation to the queen after she’d overheard the two of them sneaking around.)

the second time that suguru geto stumbled into your room—he’d used the door instead.

the day of your sixteenth birthday—an event that you’d spent nearly two months in advancing preparing for. preparing the perfect invitations, the perfect decorations; trying to have the types of parties people raved about days after.

only for your parents to completely disrupt your plans—hosting a gala in record time. instead of pink sparkle decoration, three cream colored balloons floated across the room. and then to top it off, your parents had deemed you old enough to arrange your marriage.

“step forward and state your name.”

“prince kamo.”

“next. step forward and state your name.”

none of the boys that stepped forward bothered to give you a second glance—not even as to check who exactly it was that they were getting married to. treating it like a business arrangement. “if your daughter married me, think about the resources we’d be able to send. the decades of animosity would end.”

you snuck up to your room with a slice of cake in hand, taking a seat on the floor. the music continued to play outside, the saxophone slowly starting to drive you up the wall. the door creaked open before suguru stepped in, holding a plate of cake in his hand.

“not enjoying your party, princess?” he took a seat down next to you, using his fork to slice a piece of cake.

“you consider this a party?” you mused, taking a bite out of your cake. you leaned your head back against the mattress, “i’m being auctioned off as a bride and i haven’t even had my first kiss yet.”

“and you can’t say no to getting married? it’s your life, you know,” a naive question that even you’d considered since the event started. you shook your head, dabbing the frosting off the corners of your mouth.

“pretty much every past queen has done the same, i’d be considered a disgrace if i didn’t go through with it.

suguru turned to look at you, his expression completely serious, “then why don’t you let me be your first kiss?”

you almost spat out the piece of cake onto his face, your eyes widening like saucers. at your reaction, he immediately began to backpedal, “just so you don’t have to kiss a complete stranger. but don’t feel obligated. just forget i asked.”

you cleared your airway, letting the thought simmer in before answering, “okay, you can be my first kiss. just.. take it easy on me.”

suguru placed a hand on your cheek, slowly moving in to meet your face halfway. he tilted his head to the side, his eyes fluttering shut before his lips made contact with your own.

your own eyes soon fluttered shut, your lips slightly parting. everything that suguru did, you tried to copy to perfection. taking his bottom lip in between your lips and closing your mouth. gently biting down on his lower lip when you were going up for air.

“was that okay?” you opened your eyes, noticing that suguru hadn’t pulled away just yet. keeping you close for another couple seconds before almost seeming to hesitate when did manage to break away.

“more than okay, princess. you’re a natural at this.”

at the end of the night, suguru brushed a thumb over his lips. savoring the first kiss he’d received. even with nothing else to compare it to, he knew. he knew that you were the only one he wanted to kiss ever again.

but tonight that suguru geto stumbled in through your window had been anything but a mistake.

the night before your wedding.

whereas most soon-to-be brides would be pacing a hole into their bedroom floor, calling to check and re-check that everything was in order for their special day, you were doing everything but.

“c’mere and take a seat on your throne, your highness,” suguru beckoned you over with a flick of two fingers, raven locks splayed across your silk pillowcases almost perfectly. maybe he was the princess between the two of you. you moved up across his chest, your sloppy pussy leaving a slime trail in your wake before you finally got right where he wanted you.

hovering above his mouth like a five course meal waiting to be savored and devoured. not that it was nearly enough to have him completely satisfied, though.

before you had any chance to object, his large hands gripped the plushness of your thighs and pushed you down onto his expecting mouth.

“one would’ve thought you’d be good with following directions by now, my lady,” suguru clicked his tongue, firmly pressing you against his mouth. like he wanted nothing more than your thighs to suffocate him completely.

“i only give them,” a sharp gasp left your lips. kiss after kiss peppered your inner thighs as suguru moved up, purposely avoiding the very obvious dripping pussy in front of his face.

“well, follow this one for me. use me, princess. i’m all yours to use,” suguru all but whined, his hands slowly starting to move you against his mouth.

one of your hands wrapped around his hair, grabbing a tight fistful before your hips started to gyrate against his mouth. your drenched lips rubbing against his own pretty spit covered lips. you clasped your other hand over your mouth, muffling your shaky breaths and broken moans.

“that’s it, take what you want from me. all yours princess, just yours,” even with a mouthful of pussy, suguru managed to babble like his life depended on it. his tongue carded up and down your folds before swirling against your throbbing clit.

the taste of you had been embedded so deep within his being—like it’d completely rewritten the dna encoded into his system. rewritten it to where he would only be satiated by you, like a drug. a drug that suguru got addicted to from the very first time.

“f-fuck sugu, don’t stop,” your grip on his hair tightened, formalities be damned. you bit down onto your hand, your teeth indenting into your palm in a half assed attempt to keep it down. he spat into your cunt, lapping up the mixture of saliva and slick like a man starved.

and who could really blame him for being so addicted? when you sounded like that? your moans were practically a symphony that could rival any band, any person that performed in the town square.

his cock strained against the confines of his pants, drop after drop of precum leaking onto the thin material of his boxers. he was sure he could cum in his pants just from eating you out. suguru’s hips bucked up in an attempt to gain friction, feeling himself throb and twitch.

he pulled his mouth away, the bottom half of his face glistening in a mixture of liquids. “why’d you stop?” the protest that slipped out was almost immediate, your fingers tugging on his hair harder. only for him to simply let out a moan in response.

“tell me what you want, your highness. you know i’ll give it to you,” suguru had a cocky grin on his face, like he hadn’t been desperately humping the air just a few seconds ago.

a small huff left your lips at the very prospect of you, the princess who got everything with a flick of her wrist, was debating on resorting to begging. but you knew well enough by now that being bratty never quite worked out with suguru.

the man was somehow more stubborn than you gave him credit for.

“please, sugu. your fingers, your tongue, just fuck me,” you relented, grinding your hips onto his mouth. suguru traced his pointer against your folds, dipping the tip inside.

“yeah, you want it that bad?” he questioned, bringing his finger down to his mouth. licking away at your essence. “please, suguru.”

and who was he to say no to that?

suguru pushed two of his fingers into your cunt, pushing past the initial resistance before curling his fingers just right. his mouth enclosed around your clit, swirling his tongue around the nub. moving it in very particular motions once you paid enough attention.

G-E-T-O

“couldn’t help yourself?” you let out a breathy whisper, your nails digging into his scalp. a low chuckle reverberated through his chest, the vibrations hitting your clit directly. “gotta give you something to think about throughout your marriage, princess.”

your cunt squelched loudly with every thrust of suguru’s fingers, your walls tightening around them. “f-fuck, please, sugu,” you weren’t even sure what you were asking for. “i know, i know, princess. need ol’ suguru to take care of you,” he cooed, practically making out with your clit.

the grip on his hair tightened, your rhythm starting to grow sloppy as you felt that familiar pressure building up in your lower tummy. “make me cum, make me cum,” you whined out, rocking your hips desperately against his eager tongue.

“use me princess. just here f’you to use,” you could barely register suguru’s words, each expert curl of his fingers as he hit your g-spot coaxing you closer and closer. suguru’s hands gripped your thighs, rocking you at the same rhythm when he felt your hips start to stutter.

“coming, coming, don’t stop,” you babbled the same thing over and over like a mantra, the pressure building like an orchestra’s crescendo. your walls squeezed his fingers tightly before your cunt gushed against his mouth, leaving suguru with a cocky grin on his face when he finished.

“so good for me, taste’s soo sweet,” you looked over to see suguru speaking to your cunt, running his tongue against your folds and entrance to savor the tangy taste of your release. he wiped away his chin and mouth, looking nothing short of completely satisfied with himself.

and then you got up from your spot, leaving a frazzled geto behind stumbling over his words. trying to figure out what he could’ve done wrong.

but before he had the chance to ask, you turned around and placed your pussy down on his lips yet again. without the need of him asking you to do so this time around. “what was that for?” suguru asked, letting out a moan as he sucked on one of your folds. like he’d been deprived more than just a couple seconds.

“you’ll see.”

your back arched as you leaned forward, wrapping your hand around suguru’s cock through his pants. just barely, barely rubbing the tip of your thumb against his clothed tip. “don’t t-tease me like that,” he pulled his mouth of your clit, if only to make that plea.

“come on, tell me what you want and i might give it to you,” you turned your head to look at him, a cocky smile on your face this time.

it was suguru’s turn to let out a huff, a string of saliva connecting him to your clit when he pulled away. “please princess, i want your mouth on my cock,” he gritted out, looking over at you.

you tapped a finger against your chin, letting out a small hum, seemingly thinking it over. you began tracing a vein on the side of his shaft with your thumb, your touch featherlight even while it twitched underneath your finger. “i don’t know, that doesn’t sound all that convincing to me.”

your tongue swiped across the tip in kitten licks, one of your hands wrapping around his shaft. you could practically feel suguru fighting to thrust up in your mouth.

“please, give me more. need more,” suguru whined, bucking his hips up to meet your hand. tentatively, so you wouldn’t pull away.

“see, it’s not that hard to beg,” you mused, hollowing your cheeks out to take more of his cock. your spit dribbled down onto his shaft when you bobbed your head, slowly pushing your head down.

“just like that, princess. fuck, fuck,” suguru moaned pathetically against your cunt. your own moans vibrated against his shaft, his fingers moving in a scissoring motion. stretching you out to his liking.

“fuck, fuck, just like that. take it all in,” suguru babbled as you hollowed your cheeks, filling your mouth with his cock. tears prickled in your eyes as you took his cock in fully, the tip of his cock hitting your uvula. you pulled away, a strangled breath leaving your lips.

kiss after kiss was left marked as you moved your way down his shaft, moving your way down to his heavy balls. you took them in your mouth, swirling your tongue around the sensitive sac before starting to suck. slurp. drip.

at this rate, you couldn’t even begin to distinguish which sounds came from your pussy or his cock.

your wrist flicked as you moved your hand up his shaft, squeezing around him. “shit, shit, so good. just like that, pretty,” suguru whined, bucking his hips against your grip. releasing his sac with a pop, you left a final kiss.

“yeah? just like that?” you teased, lazily dragging your finger across his sensitive balls.

“mhm, please. keep going, feels so good,” suguru’s pride had gone out the window the moment your tongue had been on him—turning into a moaning mess at just the littlest bit of contact.

your tongue swirled against the underside of his cock, tracing against the thick veins as you moved back up to the tip. taking him once again in your mouth, blowing bubbles with your spit when you drooled against the thick shaft.

suguru took your ass in his hands, as much as he could fit anyways, molding the flesh like putty before he spoke, “p-please. can’t last much longer, lemme cum inside you. need to cum inside you.” the man would practically feel his balls getting heavier, needing to unload.

strings of saliva connected your lips to the tip of his cock when you pulled away, drool practically covering your chin.

suguru let out a breathless laugh as he slumped down onto the mattress, looking over at you. “think i’m gonna miss that pretty mouth of yours the most,” he uttered, wiping off the sweat beading his forehead with the back of his hand.

“just my mouth?” you shifted to lay down next to him, tracing one of your manicured fingers across his arm.

“i mean, your mouth’s pretty great like i said. but no. everything about you, princess. your abysmal taste in tv, your freaky ass taste in books,” to which you left out a quiet laugh, swatting him away.

suguru hovered on top of you, lightly pressing a small kiss onto your forehead. kissing everywhere that he could, from the tip of your nose to the sides of your neck. “how sweet you smell, how good you taste. there’s not an inch of you that i’m not obsessed with.”

suguru took his hand within his own, examining the tacky piece of jewelry that adorned your ring finger. slender fingers slid the rock off, haphazardly throwing it against the wall where it landed with a loud THUMP.

“try to keep it down. the walls are th—”

“your highness, is everything okay? i heard a noise coming from your room?” one of the maids called out, concern laced in her tone. the door handle jiggled, instantly making you stand up from your spot. you cracked the door open just enough to peer your head outside, “i’m fine, thank you. just dropped something.”

“are you sure? i can come in and check, it’s really no problem,” she moved her head, trying to peek into the room.

“no! i mean—no, i’m okay. i promise. thank you, though,” you assured her, crossing your finger behind your back. hoping you didn’t sound nearly as nervous as you did to your own ears.

and before you had the chance to close the door, you heard her utter, “tell that boy to keep it down, princess. with all due respect i could hear you two from the other side of the hall.”

suddenly bringing up a raise to the queen tomorrow morning didn’t seem like such a bad idea.

you walked back over to the bed, spotting suguru covering his mouth with the back of his hand. his eyes crinkling at the edges as he tried to keep himself from laughing too loudly. you smacked his shoulder, barely containing your own laughter, “i told you to keep it down.”

suguru slid over on top of you, resuming as if the knock on the door hadn’t occurred. “kinda hard to keep it down when it’s you,” he whispered, capturing your lips in between his own. this was more desperate—a clash of tongues moving in synchrony.

he pulled away, gripping your chin between his pointer finger and thumb and tilting your head up so you’d have no choice but to look him in the eye.

“tell me you love me, princess. tell me, please,” every single layer had been stripped away, leaving a man that was simply just desperate to hear those words. leaving behind just a lovestruck idiot.

“and even if i did tell you, it wouldn’t make a difference. i’m still getting married tomorrow,” you told him, trying to avoid looking at him. the words would’ve slipped out as soon as you saw the pained look on his face.

"you could've still said it, princess,” suguru let go of your chin, letting out a quiet sigh before leaning in. pressing his lips against the side of your neck, gently kissing his way down to your tits where he started to leave the occasional hickey. “but i’ll wait for you to say it. i know that you do.”

“you’ll be waiting for a while then. considering, that’s if i even say it back.”

“you’re someone worth waiting for. someone worth sneaking around for even if means i only get to call myself yours in the secrecy of your room,” suguru dragged his cock along your folds, rubbing his tip against your clit, “so i’ll wait even if it doesn’t come.”

though, he was going to make sure that at least you came again tonight.

suguru’s thrusts were slow and deep, stretching your walls to mold around the shape of his cock. like he wanted to savor these last few moments. his hand reached up, interlacing your fingers with his own. “i. love. you,” he punctuated each word with a harsh thrust, even when his actions were anything but. he brought your hand up to his mouth and pressed a chaste kiss against the back of your hand.

“f-faster, please, sugu,” you pleaded, rocking your hips back to meet his thrusts.

“yeah, yeah, anythin’ you want, princess.”

suguru’s hips rutted against your own, propping your legs on his shoulders to slide in deeper than he was. “ah, ah, fuck!” you clasped your hand over your mouth, digging your nails into his palm. a sting that suguru welcomed all the same.

suguru dragged one of his fingers across your abdomen, nudging the spot where the tip of his cock bulged with every thrust. “s-so deep, takin’ it so well,” he let out a groan, your cunt practically squeezing the cum out of his cock. the smell of saliva, sweat, and sex permeated through the air; accompanied by the sound of your skin slapping against his own.

his hand moved down from your abdomen to your clit, rubbing circles around the throbbing nub. “again, make me cum again, sugu,” your whines sounded like pure music to his ears. “i got you, princess. just take what’s yours,” suguru let out a strangled moan of his own, moving his hips to hit a bigger angle.

this orgasm hit you like a tidal wave, washing over you with no sense of warning. “ah fuck, gonna cum!” your cunt squelched as his hips pushed into you, like his very at- home waterpark. your slick completely covered his shaft, each thrust sloppy and wet.

“come for me, suguru, want your cum in me,” and as soon as he felt you squeeze around his cock, he knew that it was game over.

“inside, baby? you want it inside?” suguru let out a whine, prolonging his own orgasm. counting down sheep if he had to. it wasn’t a question, he was practically begging.

“yes, yes, fuck yes! please,” you nodded your head fervently, your legs moving down to his waist. trapping him in the same way your cunt was doing, making it impossible for him to pull out even if he wanted to.

“i love you. love you, love this pussy, love everything,” suguru turned into a babbling mess, his hips stuttering and his pace turning sloppy. as sloppy as your cunt was when he came, your walls painted white. his cum pooled inside your cunt, drip after drip marking your inner thighs.

suguru pulled out carefully, using one of the hand towels you had stored away in your bedside table to wipe himself off. dropping down to his knees in front of your legs, he started sucking on your entrance. licking away his own cum without the slightest bit of shame.

burying his face nose deep into your cunt, slurping away the creamy essence. he looked up at you with a stupid smile on his face, dragging his tongue up to your clit before finally pulling away.

“fucking slut,” you let out a breathless laugh, feeling the soft towel wiping away the cum that dripped down your thighs.

“thought you knew i was a slut for you by now.”

he had made it a habit over the months to stay for a bit after the two of you were done—just to make sure you were okay, to bask in your presence for a little bit longer. he grabbed the water bottle from your bedside table, popping the cap off before handing it over to you.

“thanks,” you uttered, bringing the water bottle up to your lips and taking a sip. you offered it to him once you were done, letting a calm silence flow through the room. you haphazardly tossed the blanket up to cover up the two of you, snuggling closer to him in the middle of the expansive bed.

one of the few times that it felt like wasn’t too big for you.

suguru wrapped an arm around your waist, keeping you close to him. even if it was the last time he’d have you in this proximity. “what if we run away?” as far fetched as the idea was, it almost sounded like a distant fairytale. too good to be true.

most fairytales scattered in libraries throughout the nation were written about luxe kingdoms basked in gold and riches. of a prince coming from a distant far away land in some attempt to enchant the princess. and yet yours included running away where you’d be unrecognizable. where the title of princess wouldn’t mean anything.

enchanted by the village man that’d been content with sneaking in through your window at the wee hours of the night; content with being yours if only for a couple hours. content with loving you even if you refused to share the sentiment.

“and then the two of us would be outlaws,” the words tasted like bile in your throat—denying him, denying yourself of what you wanted. what you ached for.

“but you’d be happy,” suguru pointed out, his fingers tracing against your hip bone. “i’m sure you’d be happy with me.”

but that wasn’t enough to leave the throne behind.

“yeah. i’m sure i would be,” you found yourself agreeing to the idea, mumbling as you tried to fight off sleep for a couple minutes longer. try to get as much time as you could with him. after all, the whole thing was nothing more than bedroom talk. nothing more than a fleeting dream.

“i object.”

well, maybe not an all too fleeting thought.

and if guillotines were still around, you were sure that the queen would've sent out an immediate execution order the very same instant.

"i thought i told you to resolve your issues before we stepped foot at the altar," your soon-to-be husband muttered through a grin, hoping to keep appearances with the paparazzi surrounding the space. though, you could see the subtle tells beginning to peek through the façade—the way that his smile wavered for a millisecond and the way that his eye twitched.

"and i did. i don't know what he's doing here," your own response came out through clenched teeth, forcing a smile onto your own lips. looking over at suguru as he walked up to the altar, wearing the nicest suit you’ve seen on him.

and then he dropped down to a knee, something your betrothed hadn't even bothered to do. he looked up at you with that same desperation you saw last night, "please," his voice cracked, a small break in his composure, "come on, princess. i don't have much but i'm stupid enough to do this because i lo—"

"ENOUGH!" the queen's voice rang out, the chapel immediately blanketed in silence, "what is the meaning of this?"

"nothing, your highness. isn't that right, sweetheart?" your fiancé spoke up, daring you to try to defy. the room started to swirl—your heartbeat sounding in your ears. attention had never been a issue before, but feeling everyone's eyes on you, awaiting for what you would do, had you nearly breaking out into a cold sweat.

your hands clenched around the white fabric of your wedding dress, the rock on your finger almost weighing you down. you kept yourself still—even if every single fiber in your being was telling you to run. to leave the estate with nothing more than the clothes you had on and the stupid hope that maybe, maybe things would work out.

“don’t do it,” you heard suguru’s whispered plea, too quiet for any of the wedding guests to hear, “you know i don’t have much but i’ll take care of you. i promise.”

and that was almost enough to break your resolve. key word: almost.

"nothing at all," you affirmed, facing away from suguru before speaking out the dreaded words, "i do."

and suguru would've really preferred the guillotine a thousand times over by now. would've preferred it instead of listening to the sheer resignation in your voice, the way that you simply admitted defeat.

“if that’s all, i now pronounce you husband and wife. you may now kiss the bride,” the words sounded like static while suguru kneeled on the floor, baring his heart out for seemingly no reason.

he didn't protest when the royal guards walked over, pulling him away from the altar. tossing him against the pavement with no warning. suguru stood up, dusting off his tux before making his way down the empty streets with his head hung low.

coming to the realization that he needed to get out of town, now.

the room erupted into a cacophony of loud cheers and applause, a sound that scraped your eardrums by the second. and as you turned to look at your husband for the sealing kiss, the disappointed looks that both satoru and suguru had given you were burning in the forefront of your mind.

the same looks that mirrored your own disappointment.

[endykelopaedia]

This does still ignore that we don't have to choose one avenue or another when it comes to the intersectionality of this topic.

This post is about misandry being a bad "avenue" for sociopolitical analysis, not about "choosing one." you'd know that if you read the post.

I recognize in my experience as a latino that latina women don't experience the demonization that i do simply because of my gender.

and thats your fucking problem. First Of All you aren't even black so why are you here on my post on anti-blackness like this (and i did notice how you replaced all discussion of black people and anti-blackness with "poc" to get your nasty foot in). And second of yall YES THEY FUCKING DO. You really think being a woman of colour saves you from the racism you experience for their race in any meaningful way? You obviously a misogynist but you might actually be stupid too. Idk how long u lived as a woman or man but maybe go ask your grandma or sumn if being a woman made being latine easier. My exact problem w this misandry shit is how easily it becomes for you people to simply not think abt the women in your community and how obviously misogynistic it is to think their experiences of discrimination and violence must be softer than yours bc shes not a man. choke. moving on.

The darker you are, the more pronounced the fear surrounding you becomes, but it is also amplified by how masculine or feminine your gender expression is. I don't quite agree that "projected hypermasculinity" is the only cause of this.

i think its awesome that this non-black dude thinks he's in the position to explain colourism to me now. Also, I didn't say it was. You'd know that if you Read The Post.

for many poc, they are often in the cross hairs of white-enforced gender binaries. Many people in positions of power [even other poc] will use gender as a violent means to police us, often seeking to turn our own expression of gender against us.

you ever notice how in turning our gender expressions against us, there might be a pattern of projecting violence and aggression (traditionally masculine traits often praised in non-black people), that isnt actually there? This is masculinisation. This is racism. You'd know that, if you read. the post.

This intersection is important to acknowledge and I think very overlooked when poc trans macs like myself have been begging people to listen to us.

Ok. I'm a black i mean poc transmasc. Listen To Me! you are actively talking over what im sayin and barely listening bc it challenges the validity of misandry, a word that has apparently done soooo much for you, and me too obviously, given the nature of this post that you definitely read.

Also the section on adultification is sound. But very strange claim that "black people aren't actually masculine!"

Didn't say this. In fact i also very explicitly said black i mean poc adults also experience adultification. Try reading the post again, and applying my logic that you say is so sound.

Like???????? What about those who are? I have black transmasc friends who have extremely different experiences than my black trans femme friends and I can tell you that it absolutely is about gender there.

thats crazy. you're gonna bring black i mean poc transfemmes into this when the murder statistics for black transfemmes look like this? i wonder what happened there... i thought femininity was supposed to protect femmes from racislised violence...

Everything intersects with race in these conversations of course but there are those of us who are trying to communicate more nuanced experiences.

so sick of yalls "but my unique experiences!!" whinging. fuckin grow up n read a book. you arent the main characters. there are socio-political forces above you shaping our oppression and i am talking about those! i'm not your mother!!! think abt society outside of your feelings for 5 seconds n then get back to me!!!

ALL men benefit from patriarchy just as ALL white people benefit from white supremacy just as ALL cis people benefit from cisnormativity just as ALL rich people benefit from poverty. you think you're being intersectional but you aren't! you're just absolving your ability to perpetuate or benefit from a certain system in your own mind because you too are marginalised. being a man does not create a unique intersection with your race because men, unilaterally, are not oppressed for being men, no, not even sometimes, no, not even when you're black i mean poc or gay or broke or trans. and you can still benefit from misogyny against the women who are just like you.

Masculinity does not equal power.

Yeah ok. neither does whiteness or cisness or money or nun. nothing equals power cuz anyone can be oppressed for any reason. get fucking real.

There is the similarity of not equating feminity with powerlessness.

erm actually... you're the real misogynist for noticing how women are systemically disempowered by men instead of uplifting femininity (by refusing to acknowledge that women are systemically empowered by men) I Am Very Smart.

And Finally, lets talk about these tags a mo.

"white" "american" and i am very explicitly neither white or american. easy to guess from the way i write this post. easier to confirm from looking at my god damn bio. and thats how i know you arent serious bc you really think only white americans utilise male privilege as a concept? yk the feminist you haphazardly snatched "intersectionality" from was a black woman explicitly naming the way that the misogyny she experienced from black i mean poc men and the racism she experienced from white women was rendered invisible by both groups failing to acknowledge the intersection she had of being both black and a woman? of course not. you're an idiot.

"black people are seen as hyper-masculine and face a lot of violence for it, so yes you can be oppressed for seeming or being masculine"

AHT!! lets talk! black people are not actually hyper-masculine. hyper-masculinity is a projection by people trying to justify anti-black fear and violence. it is not a true and then demonised observation about black existence. the hyperfocus on the masculinity of black people is itself racism!

when you call this issue of racism anti-masculinity or misandry or whatever, you are obfuscating the bigotry at play. ESPECIALLY given that it is overwhelmingly just white women's fear about black people's supposed hyper-masculinity that actually gets listened to & acted upon.

in addition, there are other addendums people tack onto their anti-blackness that completely cause this logic to fall apart when applied. Namely, adultification! black people, black children get adultified by white society.

We are assumed to be older & more independent, and thus less in need of the safety, care, sensitivity, accommodation one would give to a child, and this results in violence and neglect. it is directly observable in the way black children are more likely to get detention, suspended or expelled for the same behaviour as their white peers, s/a rates for black youth, and the arguments that 40 y/o cops give for brutalising & murdering black 20, 16, 12, 8 year olds who so much as breathe in their line of sight.

Given this then, following the misandry logic, we can say being recognised as older or as an adult is a form of oppression.

"black people are seen as older/more mature and face a lot of violence for it, so yes, you can be oppressed for seeming like or being an adult"

we can for the sake of this post name this oppression adultery.

i kid. but do you see the problem. being recognised as an adult is obviously, not itself a form of oppression, in fact quite the opposite, being recognised as adult can grant you a lot of privileges that children do not have.

and black kids are evidently, not adults or people who act like adults. they dont mature faster. black 18 y/os will also face the problem of adultification to justify violence against them. black maturity is not a true and then demonised observation about black existence. the form of oppression is racism, and adultification is the deployed means of enacting racism.

the means of combatting the adultification of black people would not come in creating adult positivity or "advocating" for adults or telling children not to fear adults. it comes in the form of learning about anti-blackness, unlearning anti-blackness, and actually directly combatting anti-blackness.

similarly the means of combatting the hyper-masculinisation of black people comes in the form of learning about anti-blackness, unlearning anti-blackness, and actually directly combatting anti-blackness.

Racism explains both of this phenomena far better than "misandry" ever could.

[arilevenatz]

Unscripted

Pairing: idol!Yunho x idol!Reader

Genre/trope: fluff, idol romance

Word count: 8.4k

Warnings: very, I mean veryyyy minute talks of suicide, reader has trauma, she had a bad childhood, Imk if I missed any

AN: I always wanted to write an idol x idol reader. And now here we are, our own golden retriever got a fic now. Yes I had fun playing with the characters. The group I created, I really loved how it turned out and I will be using this group again in future idol x idol projects

Yunho had always been the one to capture attention. With his bright smile and natural charisma, he easily stood out. As the lead dancer and main vocalist of ATEEZ, his talent was undeniable. His 6’1” frame and athleticism only added to his presence, making him a natural on stage.

Performing live was where Yunho truly thrived. His dance moves were smooth yet powerful, and his deep voice melted effortlessly into each melody. The energy he brought to every performance made it clear that he was in his element, pouring his heart into every note.

Offstage, Yunho was the playful mood maker. He was always cracking jokes, pulling pranks, or finding ways to make the group laugh. But his fun-loving side hid a deep dedication to his craft. He spent countless hours perfecting his moves, driven by a desire to do his best for ATEEZ and their fans.

Despite his lively exterior, Yunho often found himself reflecting on his connections with others. His passion for music had always led him to form bonds with fellow idols, but lately, he couldn’t help but feel that someone new was beginning to take up more space in his thoughts.

The girl group was called Elysium, a name that captured the dream-like, otherworldly energy they exuded on stage. Elysium’s music was a blend of powerful performances and deep, emotive lyrics, making them stand out in a crowded industry. Their fandom, known as Stellar, was dedicated, passionate, and fiercely protective of the group’s integrity. Elysium had quickly risen to fame, drawing attention not only for their talent but for their strong bond as a group.

---

Lee Yeji

00', Aries

Leader, Rapper

Yeji was the fiery leader who held the group together with her unwavering confidence. As the lead rapper, her verses were fast and powerful, leaving an impression every time she stepped up to the mic. Her assertive personality made her a natural leader, always taking charge and ensuring the group stayed on track. Offstage, Yeji balanced her strong exterior with a deep care for her members, always looking out for them like a protective older sister.

—

Hwang YN

01', Gemini

Producer, Lyricist, All-rounder

YN, the second oldest in the group, had a deep, commanding voice that often startled people when they first heard it. As a producer and lyricist, she played a key role in crafting Elysium’s unique sound. While she often appeared emotionless on the outside, YN had a dry wit that made those around her laugh without her intending to. Her calm demeanor and focus on the creative side made her a cornerstone of the group, though her voice alone commanded respect.

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Jang Wonyoung

04', Sagittarius

Center, Visual, Vocalist

Wonyoung was the visual and center of the group, with an almost ethereal beauty that captured attention immediately. As a vocalist, her voice was sweet and clear, adding a unique texture to Elysium’s sound. Despite her grace and elegance, Wonyoung’s warmth and playful energy offstage made her approachable and beloved by fans and fellow idols alike.

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Phan Hanni

04', Virgo

Main Vocalist

Hanni’s voice was the heart of Elysium’s music, with a range that effortlessly transitioned between delicate ballads and powerful anthems. Though she was soft-spoken offstage, her voice spoke volumes in every performance, conveying emotions with a depth that moved listeners. Hanni's humble nature and dedication to her craft made her one of the most respected members of the group, always striving to perfect her vocal technique.

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Kang Haneul

05', Libra

Lead Dancer, Maknae

As the youngest, Haneul was the maknae of Elysium, but her skills as the lead dancer made her shine brightly on stage. Her movements were a blend of strength and grace, making every performance feel like an art form. Despite being the youngest, Haneul’s maturity and dedication to dancing set her apart. She was quiet and reserved offstage but showed an intensity and passion whenever she was on the dance floor.

Elysium’s concept was unlike anything the industry had seen before. They blended nostalgic, early-2000s vibes with a modern twist, creating a sound that felt both fresh and timeless. Their aesthetic was a blend of minimalist cool and raw authenticity—think vintage street style meets ethereal elegance. Each member’s individuality was celebrated, with no exaggerated theatrics or over-the-top concepts. Instead, Elysium’s power lay in their simplicity and authenticity, capturing the hearts of fans by just being themselves.

Their music was a perfect mix of catchy hooks and introspective lyrics, with a laid-back, almost effortless vibe that made each track feel personal. They didn’t rely on flashy choreography or ostentatious visuals; instead, their performances were intimate, like you were watching them in a moment of pure, unfiltered connection.

Elysium’s fashion mirrored this concept—loose, comfortable fits with a nostalgic edge, often accessorized with subtle details that gave them a chic, effortless flair. Their look was cool but approachable, embodying a laid-back confidence that made them stand out without trying too hard. Their style was a reflection of their personalities: fresh, real, and a little bit rebellious.

Their concept was bold in its restraint—no gimmicks, no forced personas—just raw talent and a genuine connection to their music and fans. Elysium wasn’t just a group; they were a movement, breaking barriers with a sound and aesthetic that felt both innovative and incredibly personal.

Elysium debuted in 2020 with their breakout single "Timeless Echoes", a song that perfectly encapsulated their unique blend of nostalgia and modernity. The track featured mellow, laid-back beats with hauntingly beautiful vocals that echoed their raw, authentic energy. The lyrics, penned by YN, were introspective and reflective, exploring themes of self-discovery, love, and the passage of time. "Timeless Echoes" became an instant favorite, resonating deeply with fans who were drawn to its simplicity and emotional depth.

Their debut album, "Elysian Days", was a seamless reflection of their concept—minimalistic, authentic, and grounded in real emotions. Every track on the album had been carefully crafted by YN, who not only wrote the lyrics but also produced the sound with an understated elegance that defined the group's style. The album was a mix of mellow ballads, introspective mid-tempos, and smooth, groovy beats. Each song felt like an intimate conversation, where listeners could connect deeply with the group’s journey, vulnerabilities, and experiences.

Songs like "Daydreams", "Quiet Storm", and "Wanderlust" followed, each contributing to the cohesive, yet diverse, nature of the album.

"Daydreams" captured a sense of youthful wonder and longing,

while "Quiet Storm" was a deeper, more reflective ballad about inner strength and the quiet battles people face.

"Wanderlust" was a smooth, breezy track with a laid-back vibe, encapsulating their desire for freedom and exploration.

"Elysian Days" set the stage for Elysium’s journey, marking them as an artistically bold and boundary-pushing group in the K-pop scene. They had a sound that was distinctly their own, and with YN's vision and leadership, Elysium was poised to redefine what it meant to be an idol group in the modern music landscape.

The 2020 MJK Awards buzzed with energy as the biggest names in the industry filled the grand venue. ATEEZ sat at their assigned table near the front, their growing fame landing them prime seating. Yunho, ever the curious observer, scanned the room, taking in the glamorous chaos around him. His eyes flickered toward a group seated a little further back, where five girls sat quietly, looking slightly out of place amidst the glittering stars. They carried themselves with an understated confidence that intrigued him.

It was Elysium’s first award show, and though they were new to the scene, their name had already started making waves. Yunho had heard whispers about them—their unique concept, their music written entirely by one of the members, and their captivating simplicity. But it wasn’t until they took the stage for their performance that Yunho truly understood the hype.

Their performance was brief—award show rookie slots were always short—but it was enough to command the room’s attention. The stage lights dimmed, and a haunting melody began to play, accompanied by YN’s deep, rich voice that sent a ripple through the audience. The blend of their vocals, fluid choreography, and the raw authenticity they exuded was magnetic.

Yunho found himself leaning forward in his seat, captivated by the girl with the emotionless expression and commanding voice. There was something about her—how effortlessly she moved, how her voice seemed to echo with a depth beyond her years. She didn’t try to steal the spotlight, but it seemed to find her anyway.

When Elysium was announced as the Rookie of the Year, the girls stood in shock before making their way to the stage. YN stood at the back as Yeji, the leader, delivered a heartfelt thank-you speech. Yunho noticed YN bowing slightly to the crowd, her face still unreadable but her eyes glinting with a quiet pride. She looked at her fellow members with a subtle smile, the kind you’d miss if you weren’t paying attention.

As Yeji wrapped up her heartfelt speech, thanking their fans, company, and team, she suddenly turned toward YN with a teasing smile. “Our producer should say something too, right?” she said, nudging her lightly.

The other members chimed in, giggling and encouraging her. “Come on, YN unnie!” Wonyoung whispered, while Haneul gave her a playful push forward. YN hesitated, glancing at the mic with a faint frown, clearly preferring to stay in the background.

But with the crowd now cheering lightly for her, she sighed and stepped closer to the microphone. The room quieted in anticipation.

“Thank you,” YN began, her voice low and deep, resonating across the venue like a bass note. It was so unexpected—such a rich, commanding tone coming from someone with such a small, unassuming frame—that it stunned everyone into silence.

She continued calmly, “I just want to thank our members for trusting my music and making it come to life. And to Stellar, for believing in us and helping us get here. We’ll work harder to show you more of what we can do.” Her delivery was concise, professional, and almost emotionless, but the sheer contrast of her voice and presence left the room mesmerized.

Gasps and murmurs rippled through the audience. Yunho, sitting at the ATEEZ table, felt his eyes widen as he exchanged a look of surprise with Wooyoung. Even some of the seasoned idols were caught off guard, their expressions ranging from awe to disbelief.

By the time Elysium returned to their seats, the buzz around YN had already started. Clips of her speech began circulating online before the event had even ended. Fans titled the videos "Idols Reacting to YN’s Voice", showing the surprised expressions of seniors in the audience, and "Rookie Idol Shocks Everyone with Her Deep Voice."

Within hours, hashtags like #YNsVoice and #ElysiumRookieOfTheYear trended worldwide. Some fans joked, “How is her voice deeper than most rappers?” while others were in awe of how effortlessly she spoke, carrying such a commanding presence without trying.

YN, meanwhile, remained oblivious to the storm she’d caused online, quietly congratulating her members and reminding them to stay focused on their next goals. Little did she know, her unique voice and unintentional charisma had left a lasting impression on everyone who heard it—including a certain tall, wide-eyed boy named Yunho.

Elysium’s viral moment following their award show performance had propelled them into the spotlight, and their schedules quickly became packed. One of their most exciting activities was participating in TikTok dance challenges with other idols, a promotional move that fans loved. For their latest collaboration, they were paired with none other than ATEEZ.

YN, as always, stood quietly to the side. She was assigned to lead the challenge, given her knack for precision and her ability to pick up choreography quickly. When the staff revealed the pairings, Yunho’s heart sank.

“Okay, for this one, we’ll have Jongho, Seonghwa, and YN,” the director announced, clapping his hands.

Jongho, standing beside Yunho, grinned and clapped his hands together. “Let’s do this!” he said enthusiastically.

Seonghwa nodded, his elegance evident even as he stretched, preparing for the shoot.

Meanwhile, Yunho stood frozen, his expression falling into something close to disbelief. Of all the people who could’ve been chosen, why not him? He watched as YN walked over to Jongho and Seonghwa with her usual quiet confidence, her deep voice breaking the silence as she asked, “What’s the move for the transition?”

Yunho’s stomach churned as Jongho started laughing and explaining the steps to her, the two of them already getting along. Seonghwa added a few tips, and she nodded, her focus entirely on the choreography.

The shoot began, and the trio nailed the challenge effortlessly. YN’s fluid movements and sharp execution stood out, earning her subtle admiration from Seonghwa and Jongho. The staff clapped as they wrapped up, and YN offered a brief but polite bow before stepping back to join her group.

It was a quiet evening when YN decided to go live on Elysium’s official account. Sitting comfortably in a simple hoodie with her hair tied back, she greeted her fans with her signature calm demeanor.

“Hi, everyone,” she said in her low, steady voice. “I’ve been seeing your requests for a live, so here I am. Let’s talk.”

The comments flooded in instantly, with fans typing questions faster than she could read them. YN scrolled through with a small smirk, answering a few at random.

Fan: What’s your favorite food these days?

YN: “Ah, lately, I’ve been eating way too much tteokbokki. Spicy food keeps me awake when I’m working late.”

Fan: Who’s the funniest member in Elysium?

YN: (without hesitation) “Wonyoung. She doesn’t even try, but the things she says are hilarious. And Haneul is secretly funny too—she just doesn’t realize it. Hanni is just a yapper.”

Fan: Do you have any hobbies?

YN: “Producing takes up most of my time, but I’ve been getting into reading mystery novels lately. It helps me unwind.”

Fan: What’s your favorite song you’ve written so far?

YN: “That’s like choosing a favorite child,” she said with a faint smirk. “But if I had to pick… maybe ‘Wanderlust.’ It’s a personal one, so it means a lot to me.”

Fan: What do you do when you’re not working?

YN: “I sleep,” she said bluntly, earning a flood of laughing emojis in the chat. “But if I’m not sleeping, I’m probably reading or eating.”

The questions kept rolling in, and YN answered them with her usual calm wit, making fans laugh with her unintentional humor. Then, as if it were an afterthought, she brought up something no one had asked.

As the questions continued, a fan comment caught her attention:

Fan: Who are your favorite groups?

YN tilted her head thoughtfully. “Hmm, favorite groups? That’s hard,” she said, looking genuinely torn. “I really admire Seventeen. Their stage presence, their music, and the way they work together as a team are incredible. My bias is S.Coups. He’s an amazing leader.”

“And... I also really like ATEEZ.” Her voice dropped just slightly, her expression remaining composed, but the slight tilt of her head hinted at something unspoken.

The chat went wild.

Fan: ATEEZ?! OMG, finally someone appreciates them like we do!

Fan: What’s your favorite ATEEZ song?!

Fan: She said it so casually, but we know it’s not casual!!!

YN read through the comments, her lips twitching into the faintest smile. “ATEEZ has an amazing stage presence,” she said, carefully picking her words. “They’re one of those groups that really pour everything into their performances. It’s inspiring.”

Then, as if testing the waters, someone in the chat asked the inevitable:

Fan: Do you have a bias in ATEEZ?

YN’s calm demeanor wavered for the briefest moment. She paused, as though considering her answer, and then let out a soft chuckle. “Ah, I don’t really have one. I’m just... a fan of all of them.”

Her mention of ATEEZ and that small, telling hesitation didn’t go unnoticed. The chat exploded.

Fan: She’s lying, she totally has a bias!

Fan: YN, we can tell! Just say it’s Yunho, we won’t tell!

Fan: Why does this feel like a confession?!

YN shook her head, her usual emotionless expression tinged with faint amusement. “You guys are so quick to jump to conclusions,” she said, her deep voice betraying nothing. “But really, all of ATEEZ is talented. That’s all I’ll say.”

As the live progressed, YN’s usual calm, no-nonsense demeanor took a sharper edge when she noticed the comments spiraling. Fans were already speculating and joking about her mentioning ATEEZ, and while some of it was lighthearted, she knew how quickly things could escalate.

She leaned closer to the camera, her deep voice cutting through the excited chatter in the chat. “Alright,” she said, her tone firm, “before anyone gets carried away, let me be clear. I don’t want to see any unnecessary rumors or assumptions about what I said.”

The chat paused for a moment as fans processed her sudden shift.

“I admire Seventeen and ATEEZ, just like I admire a lot of other groups,” she continued, her gaze steady. “They work hard, and they’re talented. That’s it. Please don’t create unnecessary drama out of this. Focus on supporting the artists you love instead of making things weird.”

Her straightforward approach silenced most of the speculation, with fans quickly apologizing or reassuring her in the chat. Still, clips of her stern warning made their way online, and while many praised her for setting boundaries, others couldn’t help but laugh at how serious she became.

A few days later, the members of ATEEZ were scattered around their dorm, enjoying a rare break. Yunho was scrolling through his phone, absentmindedly liking posts when Wooyoung suddenly gasped from the other side of the room.

“Guys!” Wooyoung yelled, nearly tripping over himself as he ran to the living room, phone in hand. “You have to see this!”

“What now?” San groaned, but he leaned in as Wooyoung shoved his phone in their faces.

On the screen was a trending hashtag: #YNWarnsFans, alongside clips of her live where she mentioned ATEEZ and later shut down the rumors.

“Wait,” Jongho said, narrowing his eyes. “She mentioned us? During her live?”

“She didn’t just mention us,” Wooyoung said, his grin widening. “She told her fans not to start rumors because she respects us so much.”

Yunho froze in his seat, suddenly hyperaware of his teammates' reactions. “Why are we even trending? She probably mentioned other groups too,” he said, attempting to downplay it.

“Oh, she did,” Seonghwa replied, calmly sipping his tea. “But the way she said our name was... interesting.”

“What do you mean interesting?” Yunho asked, his voice rising slightly.

“You know, it had weight,” Wooyoung said, mimicking YN’s deep voice dramatically. “‘I also really like ATEEZ.’”

San burst out laughing. “I think she scared her fans into behaving! Look at this.” He pulled up another clip from the live where YN firmly told her fans to focus on supporting artists instead of causing drama.

“She’s strict,” Jongho said with a chuckle. “I respect that.”

“But why do her fans think there’s more to it?” Mingi asked, looking genuinely confused as he scrolled through posts.

Wooyoung leaned closer to Yunho, smirking. “Because, dear Yunho, they picked up on something. Maybe we should too.”

Yunho shoved Wooyoung away, his face heating up. “You’re all reading too much into this,” he muttered, though his heart was racing.

But even as the teasing continued, the thought of YN deliberately mentioning ATEEZ—and how she handled the situation so seriously—lingered in Yunho’s mind longer than he wanted to admit.

A few years after their debut, Elysium had solidified themselves as one of the most unique and beloved groups in the industry. Their artistry and authenticity had earned them a loyal fanbase, and their ability to stay grounded despite their success only made fans adore them more. So, when YN was invited to participate in a new, groundbreaking show where idols opened up about their lives and struggles, fans were both thrilled and nervous.

The concept of the show was simple: one idol, one camera, and complete vulnerability. It wasn’t scripted or rehearsed, just an intimate conversation that allowed idols to connect with their fans on a deeper level. YN, known for her reserved and straightforward nature, was an interesting choice, and many fans wondered if she would even share much.

The studio was dimly lit, the focus entirely on YN as she sat in a simple chair, dressed casually in a white sweater and jeans. The setup was minimal—just her, the camera, and a producer sitting off-screen to guide the conversation.

After a brief introduction, the producer asked the first question. “Let’s start with something simple. How would you describe your journey as an idol so far?”

YN leaned back slightly, her deep voice calm but reflective. “It’s been... fulfilling, but not easy,” she admitted. “I think people assume that just because we’re successful now, everything was smooth sailing. But that’s far from the truth.”

The producer nodded, encouraging her to continue. “What were some of the challenges you faced?”

YN took a moment to gather her thoughts. “When Elysium debuted, we weren’t like other groups. Our concept was different, our music wasn’t the mainstream sound, and we didn’t fit into the mold of what people expected. At first, it felt like we were always trying to prove ourselves. I remember the pressure was so intense that I barely slept those first few months because I was constantly writing and producing, trying to make sure we stood out.”

She paused, her expression softening slightly. “But the hardest part wasn’t the work—it was the doubt. There were moments when I wondered if I was good enough to be the producer and lyricist for a group like ours. I knew my members trusted me, but I didn’t always trust myself.”

The producer gently asked, “What kept you going during those times?”

“My members,” YN replied immediately, a rare, small smile gracing her lips. “Yeji, Wonyoung, Hanni, and Haneul—they never doubted me, even when I doubted myself. They’d stay with me during late-night studio sessions, bring me snacks, or just sit quietly while I worked. It sounds small, but it reminded me that I wasn’t alone.”

The conversation then shifted to her personal life. “Fans have always admired your confidence and maturity. Have you always been like this?”

YN let out a low chuckle, shaking her head. “Not at all. Growing up, I was pretty shy and quiet. My voice was always deeper than the other kids’, and I got teased for it. It made me insecure for a long time, but eventually, I learned to own it. Now, I think my voice is one of my strengths.”

The producer hesitated before asking the next question. “What’s something most people don’t know about you?”

YN’s expression grew serious, her gaze dropping to the floor for a moment. “I think people assume that because I’m strict with fans and straightforward in interviews, I’m... cold or distant. But the truth is, I care deeply about the people around me. I just don’t always know how to show it. It’s something I’m working on.”

The producer wrapped up the session by asking, “What would you say to your fans who are watching this?”

YN looked directly into the camera, her deep voice steady but warm. “Thank you. For believing in us, for giving us the chance to grow, and for supporting us even when things weren’t perfect. I know I can be tough sometimes, but it’s because I respect you all and want to protect what we’ve built together. So... thank you.”

The producer leaned forward slightly, their voice gentle but curious. “What are your fears, YN?”

YN’s calm demeanor faltered just a bit as she shifted in her seat, her fingers lightly brushing against the edge of her sweater. For a moment, she seemed hesitant, but then she answered, her deep voice steady and straightforward.

“Deep water. The ocean. I hate them,” she said bluntly.

The producer looked surprised. “Really? That’s interesting. Why is that?”

YN exhaled softly, her expression unreadable. “There’s something about it... the unknown. It’s so vast, so unpredictable. You don’t know what’s underneath, and that terrifies me. It feels... suffocating.”

She paused, her gaze lowering slightly as she continued. “I think it’s the idea of being completely out of control. You can’t see, you can’t touch the bottom—it’s just endless. It’s not something I’ve ever been able to get over.”

The producer nodded, sensing the depth of her fear. “Have you ever had to face it?”

YN shook her head firmly. “No, and I don’t plan to. I’ll admire the ocean from a safe distance, thank you very much. But you won’t catch me on a boat or anywhere near deep water. That’s non-negotiable.”

The producer hesitated before asking the next question, clearly aware of its weight. “Can you tell us about your family?”

YN’s usually calm expression shifted slightly, her deep voice quiet as she began, “My family…” She trailed off, her hands clasped tightly in her lap. For a moment, it seemed like she wouldn’t answer, but then she exhaled deeply and decided to speak.

“When I was 11, everything changed,” she started, her voice steady but void of emotion. “My dad lost his job. At first, we thought it was temporary, that things would get better. But they didn’t.”

She paused, her eyes glancing briefly off-camera. “He started drinking. A lot. And gambling. He couldn’t handle the stress, I guess. It became this... downward spiral. Debt piled up, and suddenly, money lenders were showing up at our house, banging on the door.”

Her lips pressed into a thin line before she continued, her voice a fraction quieter. “There were times I had to hide. My mom would pull me into a room and tell me to stay quiet while she dealt with them. She tried to protect me, but I could hear everything—the shouting, the threats.”

The producer stayed silent, letting her speak at her own pace.

“My mom... she’s the strongest person I know,” YN said, her tone softening slightly. “She held everything together when it felt like the world was falling apart. But I’d see her break, late at night, when she thought I was asleep. She’d cry, or just sit there, staring at nothing. It was like she carried the weight of the world on her shoulders.”

Her gaze darkened as she continued. “And my dad… he’d talk about ending it all. Killing himself. He’d say it like it was a casual thing, and I didn’t know how to react. I was just a kid, and I felt so helpless. There were days I hated him for what he was putting us through, but at the same time, I was terrified of losing him.”

The producer’s voice was gentle when they asked, “Did you have anyone else to lean on during that time?”

YN shook her head, letting out a bitter laugh. “No. I’m an only child, and my cousins—they weren’t exactly kind. My parents borrowed money from everyone in the family, and that became the reason I was bullied by my cousins. They’d call me names, make fun of how my family couldn’t afford things. It got to the point where I dreaded family gatherings because I knew I’d be humiliated.”

She paused, her voice tightening slightly. “My studies fell apart. I used to be a good student, but I couldn’t focus. Everything felt meaningless when your home life is a disaster. And I didn’t have best friends or anyone to turn to. I was alone. Completely alone.”

The room was silent for a moment, the weight of her words hanging heavy in the air.

“But,” YN said, her voice regaining some strength, “I think that’s what made me who I am today. I had to grow up fast. I learned how to survive, how to be self-sufficient. And when I finally got the chance to chase my dreams, I put everything into it because I knew what it was like to have nothing.”

The producer nodded, visibly moved. “You’ve come so far, YN. Thank you for sharing something so personal.”

The episode aired a week later, and fans were stunned. Many had known bits and pieces of her story, but hearing her lay it all out like this was heartbreaking. Social media exploded with messages of support, with hashtags like #YNStrong and #ProudOfYN trending for days.

Yunho couldn’t stop thinking about YN’s story. He’d always been a fan of her work, admiring her talents as a producer, lyricist, and performer. But after hearing about her past, his admiration transformed into deep respect. She wasn’t just an artist he looked up to; she was someone who had overcome unimaginable challenges to stand where she was now.

“She’s incredible,” Yunho murmured one evening while scrolling through clips of YN’s interview on his phone.

“What’s that?” Hongjoong asked from across the room, looking up from his laptop.

“YN,” Yunho said, setting his phone down. “You watched her interview, right? She’s... amazing. I mean, her talent was already obvious, but after hearing her story, I respect her so much more. She’s been through so much and still came out stronger.”

Hongjoong nodded, leaning back in his chair. “She’s definitely one of the most genuine idols out there. Her story hit hard, and the way she handles herself? It’s admirable.”

Yunho hesitated for a moment before speaking. “Hyung, you’re good at networking and... you know, initiating things. Don’t you think it’d be great if we worked with her? Like, a Collab? She’s a producer, you’re a producer—it just makes sense.”

Hongjoong raised an eyebrow, a small smirk tugging at his lips. “Is this about work, or is this about you being a fanboy?”

Yunho flushed, rubbing the back of his neck. “It’s about work,” he insisted, though the slight stammer in his voice gave him away. “Seriously, though. A Collab with her would be amazing. She has such a unique sound, and I think we could create something incredible together.”

Hongjoong chuckled, but there was a thoughtful look in his eyes. “You’re not wrong. Elysium’s sound is distinct, and her skills as a producer are no joke. It’d be interesting to see how our styles would blend.”

“So, will you reach out?” Yunho asked, his eyes lighting up with excitement.

“Sure,” Hongjoong said with a shrug. “I’ll bring it up with the company first, then see if Elysium’s side is interested. But don’t get your hopes up too fast. These things take time.”

Yunho nodded eagerly, already imagining what a collaboration with YN could look like. It wasn’t just about the music—though he truly believed they could create something amazing together. It was also a chance to work with someone he admired deeply, someone who inspired him not just as an artist but as a person.

A few days later, Hongjoong brought it up during a company meeting, pitching the idea with his usual confidence. The team seemed intrigued, and word was sent to Elysium’s management.

Unbeknownst to Yunho, YN herself was surprised when her company informed her of the request. A collaboration with ATEEZ? Specifically involving Hongjoong? She respected ATEEZ as artists, and the idea piqued her interest.

But for YN, who always approached her work with precision and seriousness, this wasn’t just about making a hit song. It was about finding the right synergy, the perfect balance between two distinct artistic visions.

As the initial talks began between the two companies, Yunho could barely contain his excitement. This was the beginning of something big—he could feel it. Whether or not YN would ever know how much her story and strength inspired him, Yunho was determined to give this project everything he had.

After the collaboration, Yunho finally decided it was time to approach YN. He couldn’t ignore the pull he felt toward her anymore. Her story, her strength, her talent—they had all left a deep impression on him. But more than that, he wanted to know the person behind the stoic demeanor, the person who had fought through so much to stand where she was.

He asked Hongjoong for advice. “What do I even say? I don’t want to freak her out or make it awkward.”

“Just be honest,” Hongjoong said simply. “She doesn’t seem like the type who likes sugarcoating. Just tell her how you feel.”

So, a few days later, Yunho worked up the courage. They crossed paths backstage at a music event, and he casually approached her during a quiet moment.

“Hey, YN,” he said, his usual bright smile lighting up his face. “Do you have a minute?”

YN turned to him, her expression unreadable but polite. “Sure, what’s up?”

Yunho hesitated for a split second but pushed forward. “I wanted to say... I really admire you. Not just for your talent, but for how strong you are. I know you’ve been through a lot, and... I’d like to get to know you better, if that’s okay.”

YN blinked, clearly caught off guard. She wasn’t used to people approaching her so directly. After a brief silence, she let out a small sigh. “Sunbaenim, I... I appreciate that, but I’m not in the best place right now. Mentally, emotionally—I’m just... not okay. I’m so busy, and I have a lot on my plate already. I don’t think I can handle a relationship, or even—”

“I’m not asking you to handle anything,” Yunho interrupted softly. His usual playful demeanor was replaced with something serious and genuine. “I’m not here to add to your burdens. I just want to be there for you. To take care of you, in any way I can.”

YN looked at him, her guard slipping slightly as she searched his face. “You say that now, but... I’m not easy to deal with. I have days where I can barely hold myself together. I don’t want to drag anyone down with me.”

Yunho smiled, his voice steady. “I’m not scared of that. Everyone has their struggles, and you’ve been carrying so much on your own for so long. Let someone be there for you for once. I don’t need anything from you—I just want to help lighten the load, even if it’s just a little.”

YN’s lips pressed into a thin line as she considered his words. Part of her wanted to push him away, to stick to the walls she had built around herself. But another part of her—the part that had spent so many years feeling alone—was tempted to let someone in, even just a little.

“...You’re persistent, aren’t you?” she finally said, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of her lips.

Yunho grinned, his warmth returning. “You have no idea.”

YN shook her head, but there was a softness in her eyes now. “Alright, Sunbaenim. But don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

“I can handle it,” he said confidently. “You’ll see.”

It was a small step, but for Yunho, it was a start. He knew it wouldn’t be easy, but he was determined to show YN that she didn’t have to face everything alone anymore.

Yunho didn’t back down after that conversation. If anything, it seemed to fuel his determination to show YN that he was serious about what he’d said. He didn’t push her boundaries or overwhelm her—instead, he made his presence known in small, thoughtful ways.

It started with endless messages. Texts that weren’t demanding but comforting.

“Hope today’s schedule isn’t too hectic. Don’t forget to eat something good!”

“Just heard a song that reminded me of you. Maybe we can listen together someday?”

“Don’t overwork yourself. You’re doing great.”

YN would read his texts late at night, her lips twitching into an involuntary smile. Sometimes she replied with a quick “Thanks” or a simple thumbs-up, but Yunho never seemed discouraged. He’d keep sending messages, as though he didn’t expect anything in return, just wanting her to know he was thinking of her.

On social media, Yunho started dropping subtle hints. Nothing too obvious, but enough to make fans and even his members suspicious. He’d mention how much he admired producers who put their heart into their work or casually praise Elysium in interviews.

In one live, a fan asked him what song he was listening to lately, and he grinned. “Oh, there’s this really cool track by a certain producer I admire. It’s on repeat, but I won’t say who. Let’s just say they’re super talented.”

ATEEZ fans picked up on it quickly, speculating wildly about who he was talking about. Meanwhile, YN watched the chaos unfold on Twitter, shaking her head at the ridiculousness of it all. She knew exactly who Yunho was referring to, and though she tried to act unaffected, she couldn’t help the warmth that crept into her chest.

Even his fellow members started teasing him.

“Yunho, are you trying to be sneaky with those hints?” Wooyoung asked during one live, grinning mischievously.

“Hints? I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Yunho replied, his tone light but his smile betraying him.

“You’re so obvious,” Seonghwa added with a knowing smirk.

But Yunho didn’t care. He wasn’t trying to hide how he felt—he just wanted to take his time and let YN see that he wasn’t going anywhere.

The fans weren’t the only ones who noticed, though. YN’s members caught on too.

“Yunho’s really persistent, huh?” Yeji teased one day as they scrolled through comments under one of his interviews.

“I think it’s cute,” Wonyoung chimed in, grinning.

“More like annoying,” YN muttered, though the faint blush on her cheeks said otherwise.

Haneul smirked, nudging her. “You like the attention. Admit it.”

“I don’t,” YN said quickly, but her voice lacked conviction.

Despite her protests, YN couldn’t deny that Yunho’s endless effort was starting to chip away at the walls she’d built. His sincerity, his warmth, and his determination to make her feel cared for—it was something she hadn’t experienced before.

She wasn’t ready to fully let him in yet, but she found herself replying to his messages more often, even if it was just to tell him about her day or share a funny meme. And every time, Yunho’s responses were full of enthusiasm, as though he cherished every word she sent him.

Slowly but surely, Yunho was proving to her that he meant what he said—that he would take care of her, no matter what. And while YN was still hesitant, she couldn’t help but wonder if maybe, just maybe, she didn’t have to keep pushing him away.

One evening, Yunho went live, sitting comfortably in a hoodie, his radiant smile lighting up the screen. The live started like any other—him chatting with ATINY, answering questions, joking around, and sharing a bit about his day. But as the live went on, his tone shifted slightly, becoming more reflective.

“ATINY,” he began, leaning closer to the camera, his expression sincere. “You’ve been with me through so much—my ups, my downs, and everything in between. I’ve always felt your love and support, and it’s what keeps me going every day.”

The chat flooded with hearts and messages of encouragement.

He chuckled softly, scratching the back of his neck as if gathering his thoughts. “But there’s something I’ve been thinking about lately. I’m getting older, and I know that as idols, there’s this expectation... to focus only on our careers. To be... untouchable, in a way.”

The chat slowed down as fans sensed he was about to say something important.

“But I want to be honest with you,” Yunho continued, his voice steady but filled with emotion. “There may come a time when I fall in love with someone. I don’t know when, and I don’t know who, but when that happens, I hope you’ll love me no matter what. I’ve always wanted to give you my best, and I will continue to do that, but I also want to be true to myself.”

The chat exploded with messages of support.

“We’ll love you no matter what!”

“You deserve to be happy, Yunho!”

“ATINY will always stand by you!”

Yunho smiled softly, his eyes glistening slightly. “Thank you. That means more to me than I can say. I’ve been so lucky to have fans like you—people who understand that we’re human too, with dreams and emotions like anyone else.”

He hesitated for a moment, then added with a playful grin, “But don’t worry, ATINY. For now, I’m still all yours. Just... if the day ever comes, I hope you’ll support me the same way you always have.”

The live ended with Yunho thanking everyone and promising to work harder for ATINY.

Within minutes of the live ending, hashtags like #WeLoveYouYunho and #ATINYSupportsYunho trended worldwide on Twitter. Fans posted clips of his heartfelt speech, praising his honesty and maturity.

“Yunho deserves all the happiness in the world.”

“This is why we stan him—he’s so real and genuine.”

“No matter who he loves, ATINY will always be here!”

Even Yunho’s fellow members teased him afterward, showing him the trending hashtags. “Look at this,” Wooyoung said, laughing. “You’re literally trending everywhere.”

Yunho just smiled, feeling a sense of relief and gratitude. He didn’t know what the future held, but knowing ATINY had his back made him feel braver about whatever lay ahead—especially when it came to someone like YN.

A year after Yunho’s heartfelt live, the news that fans had been quietly speculating about finally broke. Dispatch, the notorious news outlet, published an exclusive article revealing that Yunho and YN were allegedly dating. The article included photos of the two of them together on several occasions, some taken during casual outings, others during events where they’d been seen talking closely, laughing, and even holding hands when they thought no one was looking.

The news spread like wildfire across social media, causing an immediate uproar. Fans were quick to react—some in shock, others in support, and a few, unfortunately, in anger. The inevitable backlash began to rise, fueled by certain fans who felt betrayed or disappointed that their favorite idols were in a relationship. They bombarded social media with their opinions, criticizing both Yunho and YN for being “unprofessional” or “disrespectful” to their fandoms. But what they hadn’t anticipated was the unwavering defense that came from both Yunho and YN’s fans.

ATINY, in particular, stood as a united front. The fanbase, known for their loyalty and dedication, came together like never before. Tweets flooded the timelines, filled with messages like:

“Yunho deserves love just like anyone else! #WeLoveYouYunho” “YN is amazing, and they make each other happy. Why can’t we just support them? #WeSupportYNandYunho” “Love isn’t a crime. Let them be happy. #ATINYSUPPORTSYNANDYUNHO”

The hashtag #YNandYunho began trending worldwide, and posts defending the couple filled every social platform. ATINY showed their devotion not only to Yunho but also to YN, who was just as much a target of the hate. Elysium’s fandom, although smaller, also rallied behind their idol, and soon, the combined power of both fanbases made the negative voices seem like a distant echo.

Even YN, who had always been known for her more private nature, made a statement on her social media:

“To all the people spreading hate, I just want to say that I’m happy. Yunho is someone I care about deeply, and we’re both doing our best to navigate this world as we see fit. I hope you can respect our privacy and our decisions. Thank you to everyone who has supported us with kindness. We see you, and we appreciate you.”

Yunho, too, shared his thoughts:

“Thank you to ATINY for always having my back. I know this might be a lot for some people to understand, but YN and I are happy, and we’re just two people who care about each other. We hope you can support us as we continue to work hard for you. Love is love.”

The company quickly addressed the situation as well, confirming the dating rumors. They emphasized that both Yunho and YN were adults who were fully aware of the impact of their relationship and the responsibility that came with their public lives. The statement also reassured fans that their careers and work ethics would remain unaffected, and they would continue to put their best foot forward in everything they did.

Despite the hate, the overwhelming support from fans made it clear that they were not alone. The strength of ATINY and Elysium’s support made Yunho and YN’s bond feel more solid than ever. And while the situation was far from perfect, it showed that love—true love—could thrive even in the world of K-pop, where idols are often seen as untouchable. Together, they navigated the challenges that came their way, knowing that the people who mattered most—each other and their loyal fans—had their backs no matter what.

YN, as always, found herself overthinking everything. The moment the rumors broke, she spiraled into a sea of doubts. The backlash wasn’t easy to ignore—she could see the comments, the subtle whispers, and the hate that was beginning to flood social media. Despite the overwhelming support, the negativity seemed to weigh heavily on her heart.

She constantly found herself checking her phone, replaying every moment, every interaction with Yunho, wondering if it was all worth it. Was she just dragging him into the chaos of her own life? Could she really handle being in the spotlight like this? Was it fair to Yunho?

Her mind raced as the pressure mounted. What if things didn’t work out? What if the hate only grew stronger? And what if it affected his career, his image, his future?

“YN?” Yunho’s voice cut through her spiraling thoughts. He’d noticed how distant she’d been recently.

She looked up at him, her eyes tired and full of uncertainty. “Yunho… I just… I don’t know how to handle all this. It feels too overwhelming. What if—”

Before she could finish, Yunho pulled her into his arms, his warmth surrounding her like a protective shield. “Hey, listen to me. You don’t have to handle it alone. I’m here. We’re in this together. And if anyone hurts you, I swear I’ll take care of it.”

YN shook her head, pulling back slightly. “I don’t want you to do anything drastic, Yunho. You can’t just fix everything with threats. We can’t handle it that way.”

He sighed, a little frustrated but understanding. “But if it were up to me, I’d sue anyone who dares to disrespect you. They’ll learn that no one gets to hurt the people I care about.”

YN laughed, despite herself, shaking her head. “Yunho, please. You can’t go around suing people because they say something rude. That’s not how it works.”

But Yunho wasn’t ready to back down. He reached for her hand, his gaze firm. “I’ll do a live. I’ll threaten them, make it clear that anyone who hurts you will face consequences. I’ll make them understand, YN.”

YN looked at him, her heart swelling at the sight of how much he cared for her. But as much as she appreciated his protective instinct, she knew it wasn’t the solution. “You don’t have to fight my battles for me,” she said softly, squeezing his hand. “I can’t let you do that. Please don’t. I don’t want anyone to think you’re only with me because you’re trying to fix things.”

He looked at her with unwavering determination, but she could see the understanding in his eyes. “I just want to protect you, YN. I care about you so much.”

“I know,” she whispered, her heart aching. “I care about you, too. But we have to be strong together. Not because of what they say, but because of how we feel.”

Yunho’s expression softened, his arms wrapping around her again. “I love you, YN. No matter what, I’ll love you. And I’ll stand by you through all of it—good or bad.”

YN closed her eyes, leaning into his embrace, feeling the warmth of his love and support. She knew the road ahead wouldn’t be easy. There would be days when the world seemed too harsh, when the hate would feel unbearable. But with Yunho by her side, she knew she wasn’t facing it alone. He was her strength, and she was his.

“Thank you,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. “Thank you for loving me.”

“I’ll always love you,” Yunho said, his voice full of quiet confidence. “No matter what.”

And despite the uncertainty that still lingered, YN felt a flicker of peace. With Yunho, they could handle whatever came their way. Together.

The days that followed were still filled with challenges, but something about their bond made everything seem a little lighter. Yunho and YN grew closer, their moments together filled with laughter and quiet comfort. The hate that once surrounded them felt distant, as the love and support from their fans only seemed to grow stronger.

On the rare days when they had time off, they would meet up in small, cozy cafes or take walks in the park, just enjoying each other's company without the pressure of the world around them. Yunho would always find a way to make her smile, whether it was with his cheesy jokes or by simply holding her hand, offering her the kind of warmth that made her forget about everything else.

One evening, they sat together on a bench in a secluded park, the sunset painting the sky with soft pinks and oranges. Yunho rested his head on her shoulder, his hand gently intertwined with hers.

“You know,” he said softly, his voice filled with contentment, “I’m glad I didn’t back down when I first decided to love you. All of this… it’s worth it. You’re worth it.”

YN smiled, her heart swelling with emotion. “I’m glad you didn’t either. You’ve made everything feel a little less overwhelming, Yunho.”

He looked up at her, his eyes full of affection. “And you’ve made me believe that love is worth fighting for. That it’s worth all the risks. I’ll always be here for you, YN. Always.”

YN leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to his forehead. “I love you, Yunho.”

“I love you, too,” he whispered, his voice full of warmth and sincerity.

They stayed like that for a while, enjoying the peaceful silence, content in each other’s presence. No drama, no expectations—just the two of them, surrounded by the quiet beauty of the world and the unwavering certainty of their love. It was a love that had stood the test of everything that had been thrown their way. And, as they held each other close, they knew they were ready to face whatever came next—together, as they always had been.

And for once, everything felt right.

[fandoms-x-reader]

Code 10-65 (MC M.I.A.)

Requested Anonymously

Summary: The brothers get into a fight / heated exchange with MC, and MC ends up going missing / getting injured. The Seven Demon Brothers x Reader Word Count: 9,648 TW: Mentions of blood / kidnapping

Lucifer was someone who always had an appearance to uphold in front of the other denizens of the Devildom.

His status was something that you admired about him. Lucifer did a good job of helping Diavolo run things in the Devildom and you couldn’t imagine a demon who was more perfectly suited for the job.

But, you had to admit that the facade he put up in front of others could be annoying at times.

You knew that it was part of his sin - he always had to put his best foot forward and present himself in the most perfect way possible.

But, you wished others got to see the real side of Lucifer. The side of him that he mainly reserved for your eyes alone.

You didn’t mind that Lucifer only dropped his guard around you, but it would be nice to be able to have some intimate moments in public without Lucifer worrying about the opinions of others.

And this infatuation that was caused by his pride was also the very thing that caused the two of you to get into an argument.

You were at RAD in the middle of the class that Lucifer was teaching when he mentioned a cave nearby in the Devildom that had some of the most unique magical items in the entire realm.

You were just trying to be proactive in the class so you expressed your interest in wanting to see the cave for yourself.

But, your excited smile faltered when you heard a few of your classmates snicker at your statement before telling you that you wouldn’t stand a chance at surviving because you were just a weak human.

You were offended by their words. After all, you might be a human, but you were far from weak. You managed to get the seven demon brothers to agree to pacts with you and your magic was far more powerful than those students could even imagine.

You could see the glare in Lucifer’s eyes towards the students and you were grateful that he was there. At least you knew one person had your back.

Seeing you mistreated was something that Lucifer would never tolerate, so the glare that he was sending them, while much more dangerous looking, was a mere warning to tell them to stop talking.

The students seemed to notice the way that Lucifer was looking at them so they quickly stopped laughing, but then one of the students turned the cards against Lucifer.

They asked for his honest opinion on if he thought that you - a human - could make it through the cave.

And now Lucifer was in a tough spot, because he wanted to defend you with his life, but the cave was not something that should be taken lightly.

He truly believed that a human wouldn’t survive the cave and if he said that he believed you could - then his credibility would be tainted and his pride couldn’t have that.

You waited patiently for Lucifer to defend you and you couldn’t help but feel a small pang of betrayal as Lucifer agreed with the students.

All he had to do was tell them that he believed in you - that you could do it if you put your mind to it. Why couldn’t he do that?

The students once again snickered and Lucifer avoided making eye contact with you for the rest of the class, knowing that he was going to pay for that mistake later.

You left the class as soon as the bell rang and Lucifer didn’t blame you. He knew that you were mad at him and that you wouldn’t want him escorting you back to the House of Lamentation today.

But, you weren’t going back to the House of Lamentation yet.

Ever since you got to the Devildom, people have been doubting your abilities. They had been treating you like a child who couldn’t do anything on their own and you were tired of it.

For once, you just wanted to prove them wrong - to prove to them that you were as strong and brave as you believed yourself to be.

So, you went to the cave on your own. Lucifer had shown everyone where it was on the map so you knew exactly how to get there.

And if things got bad, you would just summon one of the demon brothers. Just not Lucifer. You could only imagine the proud smirk he would wear if you had to call on him for help and admit he was right.

The cave itself was pretty simple to get through and there were wonderful treasures surrounding you. Cursed items and grimoires that you would have never dreamed of existing. 

All you had to do was grab one and bring it back with you and then everyone would know you were able to conquer the cave with no trouble.

You decided to choose the least conspicuous item, something small that didn’t radiate too much magic.

But something unique enough that people would be impressed with your feat.

You smiled softly at the item before putting it in your bag. Time to leave.

Suddenly the entire cave shook and you nervously looked around as a creature started appearing in front of you.

Lucifer never told you anything about the guardian of the cave - a creature that only appears if someone tries to steal the magical artifacts.

You didn’t even have time to think of a move before the creature attacked you, sending you into its eternal prison for your crime.

Lucifer got back to the House of Lamentation relatively late compared to when he usually arrived.

He wanted to give you ample time to cool down so that the two of you could have a proper conversation.

When he entered the building, Asmo was the first one Lucifer encountered.

“Lucifer! Is Y/N with you? I want to go shopping with them,” Asmo said with a smile and those words caused Lucifer to pause.

“They aren’t here?” Lucifer asked his younger brother. Asmo shook his head no before replying, “We all got here a while ago - we thought they were with you.”

Lucifer’s eyes were wide but everything about his demeanor remained calm on the outside.

On the inside, he was panicking as the realization of where you went dawned on him.

Lucifer was gone in a flash without even telling Asmo where he was going. He was silently cursing himself as he made his way to the cave, hoping that he would find you there and that you would be okay.

When he got there he searched every inch of the cave and when he didn’t find you his heart began to race.

For once, the calm and cool Avatar of Pride was beginning to panic at the thought of losing the love of his life.

He noticed some of the artifacts moved from their original position and that’s when he realized what must have happened.

He immediately summoned the guardian of the cave and demanded it release you. It was as simple as that.

After all, everyone is scared of making Lucifer angry - that was one thing his status in the Devildom was good for.

You were pulled out of the eternal prison and placed on the ground in front of Lucifer. You were asleep because of the magic and Lucifer’s heart broke at the sight of you.

He carefully picked you up and carried you back to the House of Lamentation where he laid you in his bed and took care of you until you woke up.

As he watched you sleep, he couldn’t help but blame himself. If he had just defended you like he knew he should have, then you would have never gone off on your own.

When you finally started to stir awake, Lucifer gently stroked your cheek with a loving yet pained smile. He hated seeing you like this.

“You’re awake,” he stated, relief washing over his features. You nodded your head as you began to recount the previous events and you felt deeply embarrassed. You couldn’t believe you had been so reckless.

You locked eyes with Lucifer expecting him to say I-told-you-so or to have a proud look in his eyes, but all you found was worry.

Lucifer couldn't care less about being right about the cave. All that mattered was that he had gotten you back safely.

“I’m sorry,” you tried to say, but he shook his head no in response. “I should have defended you against those students. I let my pride and reputation cloud my judgment and I nearly lost you because of it. I’m sorry,” he replied, his red eyes shining with more sincerity than you had ever seen them hold.

You carefully sat up and Lucifer helped you, making sure you were okay. When you were finally sitting upright, you pulled Lucifer into a hug and he gladly reciprocated it.

“Thank you for saving me,” you told him, barely above a whisper and his worries were washed away with your words, replaced with love and admiration as he pulled you closer.

From this moment forward, Lucifer would make sure that his pride never got in the way of your relationship and he would make sure that everyone at RAD knew that you were his and they were not allowed to mess with you.

Mammon wasn’t even sure why the two of you were fighting.

He had come home from an extremely late night at the casino in pretty bad shape.

He bet a bunch of money that he didn’t have, thinking he would win so it wouldn’t matter. But, then he lost.

And they expected him to pay up. But, he didn’t have any money so they took to roughing him up instead.

You had stayed up the entire night waiting for him, worried out of your mind. You were just praying that he would come home.

And when you saw the state he was in, you couldn’t help but scold him as you tended to his wounds. It was all coming from a place of love, and he knew it.

But, he was so used to having to defend himself against Lucifer.

He didn’t even realize he was being defensive until after the fight.

A simple argument that was meant to express your concern for Mammon turned into a heated exchange of words between the two of you and Mammon went too far.

He knew he went too far as soon as the words left his lips and he saw the look of hurt on your face.

But, he didn’t know how to fix it. He didn’t know how to take it back and he didn’t know what the right words to say were as he watched you storm out of his room.

He sat in his room in silence for an hour, thinking that you just needed some time to cool off. He figured you probably went to your room just to get some space from him.

The hour he spent by himself, he was going crazy.

Every inch of his body craved for him to go to your bedroom door and apologize.

He just wanted to hold you in his arms and tell you how sorry he was; but, his fear of you slamming the door in his face is what made him wait.

When he finally mustered up the courage to apologize, he knocked on the door quietly a few times but there was no answer.

He let out a sigh as he thought you wouldn’t even open the door. But, Mammon was stubborn and when you refused to open the door after a few more knocks, he invited himself in.

He let out a small gasp as he took in your bedroom. The lights were off, the bed was still made, and not a single item was out of place.

You weren’t there - you hadn’t been there all night. And now Mammon was panicking, because if you weren’t there then he had no idea where you went.

He rushed throughout the house asking if any of his brothers had seen you, even going so far as to wake some of them up.

Satan and Asmo were the most mad about that but when he explained that he couldn’t find you, they were all on board with searching for you.

After the fight, you decided you needed some air. You knew that you shouldn’t have scolded Mammon like Lucifer would have, but you couldn’t help it.

You were so worried and when he came home injured, it sent you over the edge. You loved Mammon so much and you were worried about what would happen if he wasn’t able to escape from someone he owed money to.

You were just trying to express that concern, but you knew that he wouldn’t take you badgering him as soon as he got home well.

You had only meant to step out for a moment to collect your thoughts. You were only going to take a quick walk around the block.

But, you weren’t expecting the demons that were lying in wait for a chance when one of the demon brothers wasn't with you.

It had taken three days for the demon brothers to get any kind of lead for you and Mammon hadn’t gotten a wink of sleep the entire time.

He just kept thinking about how he would promise he would never go to the casino again. Hell, he would promise anything you wanted if you were alright and they could find you.

When his brothers told him of the possible location, he was there before they could finish talking.

He had never felt so grateful to be the fastest in his life as he approached the location.

His heart stopped beating when he saw you on the ground there. He held his breath as he hoped that you were alive with everything he had.

When he approached you, he saw that you were injured but alive.

He let out a huge breath of relief as he gently scooped you into his arms and the way you weakly said his name broke his heart.

“I’m gonna get ya’ out of here,” he promised as he felt you fall asleep. 

He quickly took you back to the House of Lamentation where everyone quickly tended to your wounds.

They left him alone as he waited for you to wake up and as you lay on the bed in front of him, he just kept whispering, “I’m sorry.”

When you finally did wake up, you saw Mammon sitting next to you, holding your hands. He had deep circles under his eyes and his eyes looked bloodshot.

“Hey,” you said quietly and Mammon let out a small laugh in disbelief.

“Hi,” he replied, as he placed a couple of kisses on the knuckles of your hand that he was holding.

You noticed the tears that rushed down his cheeks as the relief of you being awake set in and you wanted nothing more to comfort him.

You gently pulled him into the bed with you and he looked down in shame as you carefully wiped his tears.

“I’m okay,” you reassured him causing him to finally look into your eyes.

“Ya’ almost weren’t,” he replied and you let out a small sigh. You couldn’t argue with him there.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered and you shook your head no. “We both said things that night,” you replied.

“But I shouldn’t have been at that casino anyway,” he stated and there was a moment of silence before he added, “I promise I won’t ever go again if you promise not to leave me.”

You let out a small chuckle at his words before telling him, “I promise I won’t leave you, Mammon. And you can still go to the casino. Just, maybe when you have more money and not all night.”

He nodded his head, agreeing, as he pulled you into his arms and rested his head on top of yours.

He wished he had done this that night instead of fighting with you. But he was glad that he got the chance to do it again.

Because you meant everything to him and having you in his arms was everything he ever needed.

It was amazing how riled up Levi could get when it came to a game or anime that Levi adored.

His brothers knew how to push the Avatar of Envy’s buttons and Mammon was especially the worst when it came to messing with Levi. 

Whenever Mammon was bored, Levi was usually the one who Mammon targeted for some entertainment.

And unfortunately, the second-born had decided to drag you into his scheme this time.

You weren’t even sure what was really happening at first. All you knew was that Mammon had approached you, wearing a devilish smile, and asked you to go to Levi’s room with him.

One thing led to another and before you knew it, Mammon was bragging about your gaming skills and he was telling Levi that he could never beat you in a game because you were just that much better than him.

You could see the fire burning behind Levi’s eyes at every word Mammon spoke, and before you knew it, he was fuming.

The two of them started exchanging heated words towards each other and you could see Levi’s sin starting to come into play.

Mammon had a mischievous glint in his eyes as he did everything he could to push his brother over the edge just to see what would happen. Troublemaker.

The next thing you knew, Levi was setting up a game and challenging you to a match against him.

You weren’t sure how it got to this point, but you were too far in thanks to your first demon that you couldn’t back out.

And Levi’s sin clouded his judgment when he chose the game for the two of you to play.

He wanted to prove to the two of you that it took more skills than pushing buttons on a controller to be the best at video games like Mammon claimed you were.

So, he chose to play the new game that he had just ordered from Akuzon - a real life survivor horror game.

Before you could protest his decision, the game had started up and three of you were transported to a world beyond the reality you knew.

You knew nothing about the game and you were starting to panic a bit now as you realized Mammon had gotten you in way over your head this time.

But neither of them seemed to notice your discomfort, still snarling at each other and arguing.

And now you were starting to get annoyed because if this was anything like Levi’s other games, there was a possibility that you could actually die in this world.

And you were going in blind, with no expectations of what was after you or how to beat it.

And as these thoughts piled up more and more, you got more and more frustrated at the sound of the two demon brothers arguing.

You finally snapped at them after another moment to try and get them to realize the gravity of the situation you were now in.

But, blinded by his jealousy and anger, Levi began arguing with you this time and with your current frustrations, you couldn’t help but fight back.

Levi had a sharp tongue as his words bit into you unnecessarily. You weren’t even the one who started this fight in the first place. You were just a bystander.

But before you could respond to his insults - and before he could apologize for them - all of the lights went out around the three of you and anger was replaced by fear.

You could hear something moving around you, but you couldn’t quite make out what it was.

You let out a muffled scream as you felt something grab you from behind, covering your mouth with one hand and using its other arm to drag you away.

You could hear the two demon brothers calling out for you, but you knew it was too late.

 The lights came back on as soon as you were taken away and now Levi and Mammon were looking at each other with wide eyes that were full of panic as they processed what just happened.

“We have to find them,” Levi stated. “Don’t ya' think I know that,” Mammon replied.

“We’ll have to split up or we won’t get to them in time,” Levi responded.

Mammon hated the idea but agreed. Your safety was on the line and he was going to do whatever he could to help you get out of this situation.

They went their separate ways and Levi’s heart was pounding with anxiety. He was confident in his skills in these kinds of games - that’s why he bought them.

But, he never had such a big risk factored into the game. He was a demon who could most likely handle anything the game would throw at him.

But, you were just a human. He wasn’t sure how long you could last in this game and your safety banked entirely on his skills at completing the game quickly.

He wanted to focus solely on getting you back, but his self-deprecating thoughts always had a way of clouding his mind as he began blaming himself for putting you in this situation in the first place.

He knew how dangerous this game was, but he didn’t think before starting it up.

He should have taken a moment - he should have kept you safe instead of trying to prove a point.

The idea of losing you because of one judgment error that was influenced by his sin was enough to make tears start to sting in his eyes. He couldn’t lose you. Not now - not ever.

He quickly snapped himself out of those thoughts. Focus on the mission at hand.

There would be plenty of time to be down on himself later - once you were safe.

Levi raced through the entire game, taking on every challenge with unbelievable skill. If he wasn’t so worried he’d be excited about getting the fastest clear record.

He finally reached the dungeon area and took out the final boss with almost no effort. The Grand Admiral of Hell could be scary when he wanted to be. 

He finally found you in one of the rooms, passed out.

Levi felt a wave of relief wash over him when he laid eyes on you, but his guilt only worsened when he saw the blood coating your arms and legs.

Luckily, they were minor injuries and you would be okay. But you got hurt because of him and it was something he could never forgive himself for.

The three of you were transported back to the Devildom, and as the scenery around him changed back to his room, Levi noticed Lucifer standing there, looking angry beyond belief.

Lucifer ordered Satan to tend to your wounds while he gave Mammon and Levi a very long lecture.

And there it was again - that familiar spark of jealousy at Satan being the one who got to tend to your wounds.

But look at the mess his sin had just gotten you all into. He didn’t have the right to be jealous when it was his jealousy that got you hurt.

Satan tended to your wounds pretty quickly, glad to see that things weren’t worse.

You had bandages on your arms and legs, but overall, you could move and the wounds weren’t that deep.

Levi showed up at your door a little while later and when you opened it, he refused to look at you out of the shame he was feeling.

You couldn’t help but feel sympathetic towards him. His sin was just as hard to control as the other brothers and Mammon had pushed him but you were sure he was only blaming himself for what happened.

You invited Levi in and he immediately started apologizing profusely.

You couldn’t get a word in, so to stop his rambling, you gently took his hand in yours and he finally met your eyes as his body started short-circuiting at the contact.

You bit back a smile at his reaction and told him sincerely, “I’m okay, Levi. Look - just a couple of bandages.”

Levi had never felt so grateful that you didn’t hate him for what happened and you led him over to your bed, not letting his hand go.

You wanted to distract Levi from the thoughts that always threatened to cripple him, so you asked him to watch anime with you. It was the least he could do, right?

Mostly, you just wanted to spend time with him and Levi couldn’t have been more excited.

You noticed him glancing at you throughout the night and you did your best not to lock eyes with him, knowing that if you caught him staring he might flee the scene.

But, he couldn’t stop admiring you and your resilience. He made a promise to himself that night to never let you be put in danger again; and, if you were in danger, he would be the one to save you again - the only one.

The Avatar of Wrath was one known for having outbursts at the smallest things

So, it should have been no surprise when he lost control in front of you.

You had made a simple mistake in which one of his books had gotten damaged and despite you apologizing profusely, he still lost his cool.

And you weren’t sure how to react, because while you had seen Satan take out his rage on others, he had never taken it out on you - not like this.

Part of you was in shock, and the other part was defensive because it really was a simple mistake.

But, Satan was in a blind rage and before he could stop himself, he had said some really hurtful things and had even broken some things in his room.

You were hurt, angry, and a bit scared of Satan so you fled the scene, needing some time to yourself.

You left the House of Lamentation, not wanting to see any of the other brothers either. You just needed a moment to calm down.

You decided to go for a walk and just took off in a random direction. You didn’t care where you were going.

All you cared about was getting away from the House of Lamentation for a while.

You should have paid more attention at RAD when they were going over the terrain of the Devildom because, after about thirty minutes of walking, you realized you were lost.

You were so lost in your own thoughts that you didn’t even notice the scenery had changed from the normal lights to you being completely surrounded by trees.

You let out a small shaky breath as the realization that you were in a bad situation suddenly dawned on you.

You surveyed the area around you, trying to find anything that might look familiar to you, but you were completely lost.

You could hear the Devildom creatures skittering through the forest only adding to the eerie atmosphere and making your heart beat faster.

You turned around and quickened your pace. You never made a turn, so if you just went back the way you came from then you should return to the House of Lamentation.

You walked for an hour in that direction and then you paused. You had only walked thirty minutes away from the House of Lamentation, so by now, you should have been back there.

But, still, the only thing that surrounded you were trees. You felt panic starting to settle in as you realized that you were completely lost and you desperately looked around as you tried to decide which direction to walk in.

Back at the House of Lamentation, Satan had finally started to calm down and with every ounce of rage that left his system, it was replaced with guilt.

You were the only person he never wanted his sin to affect, but he lost control.

The book was one he enjoyed reading, but he could get another copy. Besides, no book would mean as much to him as you did.

Satan immediately began searching the House of Lamentation for you but only found Beel in the kitchen instead.

“Satan, what are you doing here?” Beel asked and he was a little taken aback by his question. He lived there? Was that a sufficient answer?

Seeing his slight confusion, Beel clarified his question by saying, “I thought you were with Y/N.”

“I’m trying to find them,” Satan replied and now it was Beel’s turn to be slightly confused.

“They’re not here,” Beel replied and Satan’s heart skipped a beat.

“Where are they?” Satan asked, doing his best to stay calm but his voice was beginning to shake.

“I saw them leave. I thought they were meeting up with you,” Beel replied, a bit confused as to what exactly was going on.

Satan didn’t waste any more time as he quickly exited the House of Lamentation and now it was his turn to panic as all the worst possible case scenarios began playing through his mind.

Satan thought very analytically. He could find you. He would find you. He just needed to take a breath and think.

It had been several hours now since you left the House of Lamentation and you had given up hope of finding your way out of the woods any time soon.

You hadn’t dressed for a long trip through the Devildom woods and you were freezing now. You had multiple scrapes across your body from tripping and falling due to your exhaustion and lack of visibility with how dark the Devildom was.

You slumped against a tree and fell down to the ground, taking a few breaths to try and regain your energy as your eyelids started growing heavier and heavier.

You knew that you shouldn’t fall asleep there, but you couldn’t stop it and before you knew it, you were completely passed out.

Satan searched everywhere. He refused to give up until he found you. All he could do was hope that you were okay when he did find you.

It took time, but eventually, he came across you sitting on the ground, slumped against a tree and not moving. 

Satan’s blood ran cold as he saw your form. From where he was standing he couldn’t see if you were breathing so he immediately rushed over to you, gently taking your head in his hands as he called your name.

His voice immediately woke you up and you slowly opened your eyes meeting striking green ones.

Satan let out a deep breath of relief when he saw you open your eyes and he carefully scooped you up in your arms.

Your head rested against his chest and he told you, “Get some rest. I’ll get you home safely.”

You were immediately comforted by his words, whatever fear you had of his rage dispersed by the way he lovingly held you and made you feel safe.

When you got back to the House of Lamentation, Satan set you on his bed and started tending to the scrapes you had obtained. 

There was a bit of a tense silence between the two of you, neither one of you knowing what to say to each other.

“I promise, I will do everything in my power to never let my rage get out of hand towards you again,” Satan stated after another moment, keeping his eyes fixed on your injuries.

You could see the look of sadness in his eyes and you knew he must have been kicking himself for this whole situation.

“I’m sorry for damaging your book,” you replied, wanting to apologize as well but Satan shook his head.

“All that matters is that you're safe,” he replied as he finished with the first aid kit, setting it aside and sitting next to you on the bed.

He immediately pulled you into his arms, and kept you there, relishing in the warmth you provided. He could have lost you tonight and he didn’t know what he would ever do without you.

You hugged him back before reassuring him, “I’m not going anywhere.”

Asmo wasn’t one who typically argued with you. He loved you so much and only wanted you to love him back.

So he did anything and everything he could to make you happy.

And the biggest thing that made you happy was getting to spend time with Asmo.

While he was more than happy to oblige, dedicating his time to you also meant taking it away from the things that he used to do regularly to help keep his popularity status up.

Of course, Asmo had his group of loyal fans who would support him to the ends of the Devildom without requiring him to post on FabSnap or Devilgram regularly.

But, he’d be lying if he didn’t say that his popularity had certainly taken a hit lately.

You understood that having his fans was important for Asmo. He wanted to be loved by everyone and he could get really down in the dumps about himself if he wasn’t.

You tried to be supportive and not complain about the lack of time you had been getting with Asmo.

But now you were sitting alone in a restaurant, waiting for Asmo to show up, feeling embarrassed as you texted him.

This was the third date in a row that Asmo promised he would meet you, only for you to show up and have to wait for him. 

He would either be extremely late or not show up at all and his excuse was always something to do with his livestream going on for longer than he thought it would or that he was taking extra time to make sure his look was perfect for pictures.

You knew that these kinds of things were just part of Asmo’s charm but you had been sitting at the restaurant for two hours now and you were beyond frustrated. 

You decided to give up on the date idea and texted Asmo as much before deciding to take a walk around the Devildom.

You were fuming as you walked around the Devildom and you only got more irritated when Asmo texted you to innocently ask why you had canceled the date.

Asmo’s obliviousness as to why you were upset somehow made you even more made because you knew that Asmo wasn’t doing anything to intentionally make you mad.

You were stuck between a rock and a hard place. On one hand, you missed your time with Asmo and you wanted to express your need for him.

On the other hand, you didn’t want to come off as unsupportive or ask him to take time away from something he loved.

Your mind was racing with these thoughts, clouding your awareness and distracting you from your surroundings.

You continued to walk, almost mindlessly, as you attempted to sort through your internal dilemma. 

After a while, you decided to take a breath and reset - being stuck in an endless loop wasn’t going to help you solve anything.

You leaned against a nearby wall and took a look around yourself, trying to figure out where you ended up walking.

But the more you looked, the more you realized you didn’t find anything that looked familiar to you at all.

Your mind began to race again, but this time the thoughts were purely about all the things that could go wrong while you were by yourself in an unfamiliar part of the Devildom.

As you tried to figure out how to get out of there, you heard a group of demons approaching and your heart skipped a beat as you prepared for the worst.

Meanwhile, Asmo was searching everywhere for you.

You had opened his message and you never replied to it - and that was something you never did.

He gave you a few minutes to respond, hoping that you were just really mad and typing out a long message.

But, when it didn’t come, he promptly ended his livestream and went out to find you himself.

He searched around the restaurant and asked anyone he saw if they had seen you and eventually, he was pointed in a direction.

He tried his best to keep a clear mind but it was a difficult task as more and more possibilities of things that could have happened to you continuously popped into his mind.

The demons had approached you just as you believed they would. Not everyone believed in Diavolo’s exchange program like most of the students at RAD.

One of them had attacked you and you dodged it just in time, gaining a deep wound on your arm but protecting yourself from any fatal blows.

You thought that they were going to attack again when Asmo suddenly appeared out of nowhere, looking more angry than you had ever seen him.

You could see his lips moving so you knew he was talking, but you couldn’t hear what he was saying.

Whatever it was, you watched as fear crept into the faces of every single one of the demons before they eventually all scurried away.

You let out a breath of relief at their disappearance and Asmo turned to face you.

The anger immediately dissipated from his eyes, replaced with worry as he frantically looked at your arm.

It was only a gash on your arm, but Asmo would have everyone believe you were about to die.

He helped you get to the House of Lamentation where he was even more of a drama queen.

He started crying for help as soon as the door was open and when you were met with his brothers, Asmo’s face would be covered in tears as he begged his brothers to help you.

It was really overdramatic, but at least you knew that he cared.

Asmo held your hand and gently stroked your hair as your arm was tended to. He wanted to be there to comfort you, but you could tell he was uncomfortable by the way he winced whenever he caught a glimpse of your wound.

Once it was completely bandaged up, Asmo took you to his room and laid with you on his bed. He brought you as close to him as he could, making sure your injured arm was resting on top of him so that it didn’t get bumped around.

You were even deeper in your internal dilemma now. If Asmo hadn’t shown up when he did, you might not have made it. He saved you - so did you have a right to be mad about everything that happened before that situation?

Asmo could practically hear your mind racing. He knew that something was bothering you and he hated it.

“Are you mad at me?” Asmo asked. It was the only thing he could think of that would be causing you to think so hard. You let out a small sigh as you tried to find the right way to word things.

“No, Asmo. I’m not mad. I just - I miss you,” you replied and he could hear that your words carried a heavier weight than usual.

He stayed quiet for a moment, hoping you would continue on your own, but when you didn’t say anything else, he begged you to talk to him.

You knew that now was the best chance you were going to get to explain how you felt and you told him everything that had been bothering you.

Asmo was taken aback by your words. He had no idea that you were feeling like this and it bothered him more than you could ever know to find out he was the reason you were feeling like this.

Nothing was more important to him than you. You were the only one who brought love and light into his life and whether he had a million fans or none, it wouldn’t matter as long as he had you.

Asmo told you all of that but you also wanted to stress the fact that you didn’t want him to stop what he loved. That would be just as bad.

The two of you lay in bed for a while as you both brainstormed, both of you at an impasse and not knowing where to take things from there so that you would both be satisfied.

That’s when Asmo came up with the brilliant idea to have you livestream with him. It would mean you and him get to spend more time together without removing that part of his life.

Plus, the more popular you were among the denizens of the Devildom, the less likely anyone could try and hurt you again. 

Asmo thought it was the perfect solution, as long as it was something you were interested in doing. 

He wanted to give you some time to think about it, so he asked if the two of you could talk about it tomorrow.

That night, he had come too close to possibly losing you and the only thing he wanted to do was hold you close so he could remind himself that you were there with him.

That was the only thing that mattered.

While Beel’s stature could easily make anyone believe he was a fighter, everyone close to him knew that he was just a giant teddy bear.

He didn’t like fighting and he despised it even more so when it came to you.

Beel looked at you like you were the sun that his whole world revolved around. And because you meant so much to him, Beel never wanted to see you upset.

He did everything he could to make you happy.

So, for you and Beel to fight, it had to be over something pretty big - at the very least, over something that meant a lot to him.

And besides you and his family, the thing that meant the most to him was food. And he had been craving a specific item from a bakery that was a bit far from the House of Lamentation.

Beel had gotten the item in surplus because he rarely had the opportunity to go to the bakery.

He had even been so good about not eating all of it in one sitting so that he would have some extra for later.

But, when he returned to the kitchen for the rest of his food he instead discovered you - eating his special snack.

And now Beel was in an intense internal dilemma as his sin fought to reach the surface and cause him to snap at you.

He knew that you didn’t mean to eat his things on purpose. You had barely gotten the chance to discover all the food the Devildom had to offer so you would have no idea what snack you were eating or that it was hard to get it.

You saw Beel there in the kitchen watching you eat, a struggled look on his face as he tried to hold back his anger. He didn’t want to take it out on you.

You wondered why he could be angry and then you looked down at the evidence in your hand and you realized what you must have done.

“Was this yours?” you asked, afraid to hear the answer. He took a moment to respond, but his reaction gave you the answer you needed.

When he finally did speak, you could tell he was holding back as he explained where those snacks came from and how he doesn’t get a chance to have them often.

He was visibly upset, even though he was trying to hide it, and you felt terrible. You wouldn’t have eaten it if you had known how it was Beel’s, especially if it was a rare snack.

You tried to apologize to Beel but he was being a bit short with you. You couldn’t blame him though. You just wanted to find a way to make it right.

Beel ended up walking away from the situation so that he didn’t end up saying something that he didn’t mean and would regret later.

When he went to cool down, you felt even worse. Beel was never angry at you, so you knew that you messed up big time to bring him to this level.

Luckily for you, during the discussion, Beel had told you the name of the snack, the bakery it came from, and where it was in the Devildom.

You had all the information you needed to buy him more and you figured the least you could do was replenish what you ate.

So, you left immediately to the place where he talked about it.

However, what Beel didn’t mention while talking to you was that the reason he didn’t get the snack very often was because the area of the Devildom the bakery was located in was a very dangerous place. 

It had been a while after you left when Beel was finally feeling a bit better.

He felt bad about being short with you and with the way he left in the middle of the conversation.

But, if you were anyone else, he would have already been on a food rampage and that was the last thing he wanted to happen so he thought walking away would be the best solution.

As soon as he was feeling better, he went to find you. He first looked in the kitchen where he last saw you.

You were nowhere to be found, but on the table where you were sitting, there was a note that you had left for Beel explaining where you had gone.

Beel felt his heart sink to his stomach as he read your words. There was no way you would go there without someone accompanying you, right?

Beel couldn’t afford to wait to find out the answer to that question.

While he was rushing to come to your aide, you found yourself in a bad situation with some demons.

You managed to find the bakery Beel mentioned and they still had some of those treats. You grabbed as much as you could afford - and carried - and you were making your way back to the House of Lamentation when a group of demons approached you and drove you into a nearby ally.

Beel showed up at the bakery a few minutes after you had left and immediately asked if they had seen you there. When they confirmed that you had bought some treats and already left, Beel was slightly panicked. If you weren’t there, where could you be?

He immediately began searching around the area, but he didn’t see you anywhere.

He heard a small scream close by and immediately rushed in the direction only to find you sitting on the ground, holding your leg.

Beel immediately rushed over to you and you were so thankful to see him. The other demons had already left, taking your belongings with them.

You were bleeding from a small wound near your ankle, but you were grateful that it wasn’t worse.

Beel was more than angry to see his girl injured but was also relieved that you hadn’t been more badly hurt.

“What were you thinking?” he asked softly, a question of worry not anger.

“I’m sorry, I just wanted to make up for the food I ate by buying you more,” you replied and your eyes widened as you realized the demons had taken the snacks as well as your wallet so now you couldn’t even replenish Beel’s stock.

Beel seemed to understand what happened by the look you were expressing and he couldn’t help but fall in love with you a little more.

You were so kind and caring. You were someone who deserved the world and someone he believed he didn’t deserve.

Beel managed to treat your small wound before offering to take you to the bakery. This time the two of you could share some of those snacks.

He had money on him and didn’t mind paying for some more. Besides, you were both already down in that area, you might as well make the most of it.

The outing turned into a pretty good date that made Beel realize he never wanted to be without you by his side. And he would never let there be an opportunity where you could be taken from him again.

 Beel was very sweet to you for the rest of the day, still feeling like the events of the day were his fault because he couldn’t control himself.

He more than made up for his small outburst and he wasn’t even the slightest bit angry about his food being eaten anymore.

Though, when you got back to the House of Lamentation, Beel made sure to tell Lucifer everything that had happened.

The demons who hurt you may have gotten away temporarily but when they messed with you, they missed with all seven of the demon brothers, and there wouldn’t be a place they could go where Lucifer wouldn’t find them and punish them.

It was no secret that Belphie tended to start fights. He could act bratty when he wanted to, and if you weren’t in the mood for his antics, it was easy to get upset at him.

And don’t think that he would back down if that happened. He would stand his ground until whoever was mad at him was forced to walk away; and, he would wear a smug smile as they did, knowing he had won.

But, Belphie never expected you to be on the opposite end of this kind of fight with him.

And it was over something that was so small but escalated too quickly.

You had come home from a very busy day at RAD and immediately went to the attic where Belphie was taking a nap.

You had recently been assigned to take charge in a RAD event that was coming up and to say that you were stressed would be an understatement.

You were overwhelmed and on the brink of a mental breakdown and you went to Belphie for comfort, hoping he could help you find a solution to your problems, or at the very least, calm you down.

But Belphie had just woken up to you being upset and truth be told, he still felt half-asleep.

He wanted to listen to you but every inch of his body was craving to go back to bed and it resulted in Belphie falling asleep midway through your rambling.

You shook him awake once more, desperate for his comfort and that’s when he pulled you down into the bed as well.

“Just take a nap, Y/N, it will help you feel better,” he told you and you let out a sigh as you felt like Belphie wasn’t listening to a word you were saying.

“I don’t have time to take a nap, Belphie. Weren’t you listening?” you asked him, turning to look at him only to be met with the sight of his eyes closed once more.

You let out a scoff as you moved from the bed, standing up and gathering your things to leave. Unbelievable.

“Sometimes, it feels like you don’t care at all,” you stated. You were exhausted and frustrated and the words left your lips before you could comprehend the weight of them.

And Belphie took offense to them. But instead of trying to convince you that he did care - an action that would have made you feel guilty for saying those words - Belphie got defensive.

He snapped back with his own snarky remark which led to the two of you arguing back and forth, exchanging heated words.

And when Belphie was in a battle of insults, he always won. Because he wasn’t afraid to go past the line that most people drew.

He immediately regretted it when the words came out and he saw the hurt in your eyes.

He tried to backpedal, but he was stuck and when you walked away he realized the feeling he got from this argument was far from the feeling of satisfaction he got when he bested one of his brothers.

You had decided to go back to RAD to work on the project you were assigned to try and take your mind off your fight with Belphie.

You could admit that you were out of line with the things you were saying, but so was Belphie. You felt awful about how things went, but you were afraid if you went back to Belphie too early, he would still be mad and the two of you would end up in another argument.

You didn’t mean to stay out for as long as you had. You were so wrapped up in your work that you didn’t even pay attention to the time.

And before you knew it, you had fallen asleep at RAD.

Belphie hadn’t gotten a wink of sleep since your fight. He felt guilty about his part in the fight; but mostly, he was anxious because he knew you left and you hadn’t come back yet.

He didn’t get any text messages or phone calls from you and none of his brothers had seen you and he was panicking.

He nervously paced in the attic as he wondered if he was the reason you were injured, once again.

He would never forgive himself if he found you hurt - or worse.

When his anxiety hit its peak, Belphie decided to go look for you himself.

His demon form had slipped out as panic clouded his mind and he raced around the Devildom, looking for you.

This was far more effort than he had ever put into anything but he could care less about that. You were the only thing on his mind.

His eyes were crazed as he looked everywhere he could think of, but you weren’t anywhere. 

Finally, the last location he looked at was RAD and he felt his body flood with relief as he saw you passed out at one of the desks - perfectly fine. 

Belphie let out a deep breath as he slowly returned to normal, taking in every inch of your body to assure himself that you were okay.

RAD. This should have been the first place he looked and if he really had been paying attention to you earlier - he would have thought about that.

Belphie cursed himself as he contemplated waking you. Would you even leave with him if he asked you to?

He approached the desks and saw what you were working on - there were still so many things you had to figure out for the event and he hated that instead of helping you, he pushed you away.

He looked over the documents and saw something he could help with. He quickly jotted his notes down on the paper and then another item caught his eye.

Without realizing what he was doing, Belphie continued to take notes about things that might help you with the event.

You woke up a few hours later and let out a groan, feeling how stiff your back and neck were from sleeping on the desk.

You let out a small gasp as you saw Belphie sitting next to you, passed out on a desk of his own. Did he come here just to sleep?

You went to gather your papers up to go back to the House of Lamentation. But, as you did, you saw there were notes all over them.

Your eyes widened as you read each paper. That was Belphie’s handwriting. He had solved every single one of your problems that was overwhelming you.

Your heart warmed as you felt even worse about the fight now. You loved Belphie and he loved you and you never should have accused him of not caring. 

The work he put in for you told you everything you needed to know and you finished putting away your stuff before gently shaking Belphie awake.

He opened one eye and you gave him a small smile. “Let’s go home,” you told him softly and he let out a small sigh before standing up.

You didn’t get a chance to say anything before Belphie pulled you into his arms, his head lazily resting in the crook of your neck as he held you close.

“I do care,” he mumbled against your skin and you couldn’t help but hug him back.

“I know,” you replied with sincerity and Belphie was satisfied with your answer.

But, he was still a brat and when the two of you got back to the House of Lamentation, Belphie stated that you had to go lay down with him because you owed him for doing all of your work for you.

You wanted to glare at him for even trying to go that route, but he didn’t give you a chance, taking you to the attic and bringing you down onto the bed with him.

Belphie immediately pulled you close, a small smirk resting on his face as that feeling of satisfaction that he loved finally came to him.

All things considered, your work was done now and you could use some sleep in an actual bed so you didn’t mind laying down with Belphie.

And he just wanted to feel your warmth right there next to him - where you belonged. He never wanted to feel it missing from his side again.

[blueberrisdove-sideblog]

Thinking about PHAINON’S cock being almost 7 inches, though its long enough for the head of his cock to reach your cervix. He definitely has the prettiest cock out of all of men. Its really pale and has a—lot of veins around it. Phainon is literally the best at fucking—you with his cock. His cock was just so pleasurable. A faint dusting of pale hair sits above the base of his cock, neatly trimmed and well-kept, adding to his effortless appeal. It's soft to the touch, smooth against your skin, just like everything about him—controlled, refined, and devastatingly perfect.

And then there's the way he fucks you. Not just with skill, but with purpose. Like he knows exactly how deep he needs to be, how slow or rough to take you apart. His cock stretches you in a way that borders on overwhelming, the thick veins pressing into your walls, the head of it brushing your cervix with every deliberate thrust. It's not just pleasure—it's possession, the way he claims every inch of you without a single word.

His breaths are heavy, low grunts escaping his lips when he feels you tighten around him. He watches you, eyes sharp, taking in the way you shudder, the way your body reacts to him alone. He knows no one else could fuck you like this, no one else could ruin you in a way that still feels so reverent. It's not just about taking—it's about making sure you know he's the only one who ever could.

Thinking about MYDEI’S cock It's the biggest one-thick, heavy, and a full nine inches of sheer, overwhelming size. There's nothing refined about it, nothing delicate. Just raw power, veined and flushed, built to stretch and ruin. His cock sits heavy between his legs, a perfect reflection of him—unapologetic, dominant, untamed. His pubic hair is just as unruly, untouched, dark curls framing his length. He doesn't shave, doesn't brush it down, because why would he? He's not the type to care about pretty appearances. He's the type to take, to claim, to make sure you remember exactly what it feels like to be fucked by him.

And when he's inside you gods, it's too much. The stretch is instant, a sharp, unbearable fullness that has you gasping before he even moves. He knows it, too. He watches the way your body struggles to take him, the way you twitch and tighten, barely able to handle his size. It's intoxicating to him, the way you clench around him like you were made for him, like no one else could ever compare.

His pace is merciless, rough and deep, slamming into you until all you can do is take it. Every thrust forces his cock against your cervix, dragging a mixture of pain and pleasure so intense it leaves you trembling. He doesn't stop-he never stops until you're shaking, until you're completely lost in him, until he's sure you'll never forget that he was here, that he's the only one who could ever fuck you like this. Because Mydei doesn't just want to pleasure you. He wants to own you.

Thinking about ANAXA’S cock It's not the biggest, not the thickest, but gods, does he know how to use it. Five inches of pure, aching need, pale and flushed at the tip, standing proudly against his smooth skin. There's no pubic hair—whether it's natural or something he takes care of, it's impossible to tell, but it only adds to the softness of him. He looks almost delicate like this, like something meant to be worshiped. But that's the trick, isn't it? Anaxa isn't just delicate. He's dangerous in the way he holds himself back, in the way his soft-spoken nature masks something deeper, something utterly consuming.

Because when he's inside you, it doesn't matter that he's not the biggest. He makes it feel like he is. He fucks like he has something to prove-slow at first, teasing, watching your every reaction like he's memorizing the way you fall apart for him. Then he picks up, hips snapping forward, angling himself just right so every thrust hits exactly where you need it. He's precise, controlled, relentless in his focus on your pleasure.

His breath hitches when he feels you clench around him, his hands tightening on your hips, keeping you in place. There's something desperate in the way he moves, like he needs you to understand that size never mattered-only this, only him, only the way he can make you shake with nothing but his cock and the sheer intensity of his devotion. Because Anaxa doesn't fuck to claim. He fucks to worship.

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[strwbrychffoncke]

"—baby take off my clothes cause i got somethin' to show ya,, 1.9k words ⸺ event masterlist synopsis: your plan to make rafayel stay with you a little longer before his newest art exhibition works a little too well.... contains: nsfw! lnds rafayel x afab!reader ,mc!reader ,reader is wearing a dress ,teasing (giving) ,u get carried ,kissing ,making out ,marking ,biting ,missionary(?) ,needy!raf ,kinda whiny!raf ,overstimulation (brief) ,creampie ,some cute fluff afterglow ,implied cunnilingus ,thomas cameo at the end lmao ,think thats it note: (mostly edited pls standby....) released much later than i intended but i had sm trouble writing but we somehow prevailed..........

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"do you really have to go, raf?"

he lets out a long sigh, strokes from the paintbrush light and airy on the canvas in front of him.

"i already told you that you should come with me."

"but i want you to stay here with me," you almost whine, wrapping your arms around his neck from behind and leaning forward, pressing you body against his.

his breath stutters ever so slightly at your clinginess, heart picking up its speed in his chest.

"and besides...."

you rest your head on his shoulder, lips just centimeters away from his ear.

"isn't this a little much for an art exhibition?"

your voice is a hushed whisper, the sheer sound and feeling of it sending sparks through rafayel's entire body.

he's long since lost interest in his current piece, vouching to save it for later as he feels you unravel your arms and step back to give him room to turn around.

and rafayel feels his breath hitch at the sight before him.

its nothing extravagant, but maybe the simplicity of it is what stirs something up inside of him: you're wearing a silk pink slip dress, the color resembling a seashell you once found on the beach and gifted to rafayel, for good luck you'd said with a smile— and he feels like he was feeling that look right this moment, being able to look at you like this).

the neckline is just low enough for some cleavage to peek through, the top part hugging your breasts so nicely, simple crystal-like ornaments embellishing the outline (reminding him of the way light reflects off of the ocean's surface) while the bottom accentuates your waist and falls perfectly around your hips, ending just above your ass— if you so much as bent over slightly, you'd easily flash someone.

"'too much?'" rafayel mumbles your words back to you, hands reaching out to grab a hold of your hips.

"if you ask me, this is too little."

you can't help but let a laugh slip as he pulls you closer, hands pinching and caressing the silk of the fabric hugging your hips, gaze roaming up your body before making eye contact with you.

"no way am i letting anyone else see you in this."

his eyes are narrowed but his expression resembles a pout as he holds you close against him.

ah, there was that possessive side of him.

you laugh again in amusement, short and sweet, hands moving up to cover his momentarily before slowly trailing up his arms then up to hold his face, one of his hands shooting up to wrap around your wrist, turning his head towards it and planting a kiss directly onto the pulse point.

you pull him closer towards you, leaning down just slightly as if you had some special secret reserved for his ears only (despite the studio being occupied by only you both).

"then take it off."

in the next second, you capture his lips with yours, and as rafayel kisses back with equal and slowly growing fervor, the last thing on his mind is the art exhibition he's supposed to be attending in a little under an hour.

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rafayel thinks you must've cast some sort of spell on him

since the very first time he met you to this life, you've had him wrapped around your finger without even trying— the sea god, folding to your every will.

sometimes, he thinks you forget the sheer amount of power you hold over him.

you don't know when exactly he's carried you to his bedroom, but you feel the soft mattress beneath you as he continues devouring your lips, legs wrapped around his waist to keep him close as his hands roam over your body and slowly begin sliding the silk straps of your cute dress down, eager to free your breasts. he doesn't waste a second in leaning down to kiss and mark one, sucking hard on the nipple while squeezing and prodding the other in his warm hand.

"hah, raf—ah—"

your hands bury themselves in his unkempt hair, tugging at his lavender locks, pleasured sounds filling the room as rafayel switches to the neglected one, swirling his tongue around the bud, taking his time marking your tits in pretty bruises and bites.

after a couple of minutes he releases the mound with a pop, pulling back slightly, hair a mess and panting, taking in the sight of you.

he leans up towards your face once more. "you're terrible, y'know?" he mumbles against your lips before stealing kiss after kiss from them. "invading my mind like this... look what you do to me, princess."

he pins your wrists against the mattress, swallowing your whines when he bucks his hips between your thighs— against your dampening panties.

patience wearing thin, he leans back to his full height, ridding himself of his pants and freeing his hard, leaking length from their confines.

you feel your mouth water at the sight, wanting nothing more than to be filled of him completely.

rafayel smirks at the sight, stroking himself a few times before grabbing you by the ankles and pulling you impossibly closer, groaning at your choice of panties— a thong-shaped one with lace, color matching your dress— sliding them down your legs and tossing them to the floor. he grabs hold of your thighs, spreading you open, hiking one of your legs over his shoulder and holding it there with one hand, other aligning himself with your leaking entrance.

"ready, princess?"

he doesn't wait for your answer.

with a single thrust, he buries himself completely inside of you, immediately moaning at the feeling of your walls hugging him tight at the sudden intrusion and growing more aroused at the moan you let out, back arching off the bed and gripping the sheets tight.

already impatient, his hips quickly form a rhythm, throwing his head back and panting into the air of the room, pleasure heightened by hearing your sweet whines and groans.

"sl-slow, slow down, raf—"

"can't— you can take it, can't you? the way you're— ahh— squeezing me tells me en-ough—"

his voice is strained and god he sounds so needy despite being the one on top, and he is— he can never get enough of you; no matter how much time you spend together, its never enough.

he's been patient, so patient, and every day with you is a blessing and a curse because he always wants more.

and you can feel it in the way he's thrusting into you, beads of sweat forming on his body, hotly panting and whining as you squeeze his cock because he always felt too good to imagine.

you think he's a bad influence. his neediness has rubbed off on you.

but he's more than willing to give every part of himself to you in every way you desire.

"ah—!"

"that feel good, princess? there?"

he pries the leg against the mattress wider, granting him more space between you as he continues hitting the same spot within you that seemed to make you flutter around him.

at this point, he knew your body and mind exceptionally well, making his mark on you in every way that he could.

"you feel too good, too good— hah, ahh— should buy you more of those pretty dresses, yeah?"

you huff out a laugh that's quickly cut off by a moan, throwing your head back deeper into the mattress, hands flying up to grip his strong arms hard as you feel yourself coming undone.

"close— so close, rafa-yel, please—"

"gonna— hah— cum inside, ah—"

your arms reach up around his neck again, pulling him closer to kiss him.

your tongues dance to their own tune as his hips slam into yours, and with some final particularly hard thrusts you gush around his cock, breaking the kiss as you cry out in pleasure.

rafayel lets your thigh down in favor of leaning his body against yours, keeping you in place as his lips trail down your jawline towards your neck, sucking marks into the sensitive skin as he chases his own orgasm.

"too— much, too much, raf—"

you're whining into his ear, sensitive from your orgasm, overstimulation intense, legs wrapping around his waist and tugging him impossibly closer against you to try to ground yourself in any way.

"so good, so good, princess, i'm gonna cum—"

with a couple more thrusts and a harsh bite to your shoulder, he spills himself inside of you, cry escaping your lips at the sensation of his teeth as his warmth fills you.

he rides out his high with a few more languid thrusts, planting soft kisses against his marks on your neck and shoulder before his movements completely cease.

neither of you speaks for a long moment, only holding each other close as you both catch your breath.

you rake your hands through his messy hair (courtesy of you), giggling as he pushes into your touch, eyes flitting up to you.

"so needy," you jest with a little smile.

rafayel lets out a scoff, lifting his head to look at you properly.

"says the cutie that was vying for my attention," a teasing smile tugs at his lips. "it seems i'm rubbing off on you," he proclaims, all too smugly.

"you're a bad influence," you huff, pinching his cheek.

"your bad influence," he winks and you roll your eyes, reaching to peck the same cheek you pinched.

you both stare at each other for another long moment before the artist moves to get off of you, standing at his full height, holding your thighs as he slowly pulls out, rubbing them in an act of comfort when you let out a small whimper at the loss.

"hey," you breathe out, lifting yourself up onto your elbows. "aren't you going to be late?" you tilt your head, remembering the reasoning behind this passionate night in the first place.

he lowers himself to the ground, face level with your heat, watching the globs of cum drip and stain the sheets below. he can feel himself get hard again at the sight as his hands give your thighs a gentle squeeze, planting a kiss on the inside of one before his dark gaze meets yours.

"who says i'm still going?"

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epilogue:

thomas called the familiar number for what felt like the upteenth time that evening, trying not to lose his mind outside of the venue where more and more guests began showing up.

"where the hell is he???"

by the time and hour had passed since the designated time of arrival, thomas had already baked up some half-assed excuse as to why rafayel wouldn't be showing his face at yet another exhibition.

thomas lets out a frustrated sigh once he gets the chance to take another breather.

"at least i have the paintings," he mumbles to himself, swirling the glass of champagne in his glass as he fishes out his phone from his pocket to check for any update.

1 new message.

he unlocks his phone to check it out, and in the next second, he's gripping it so hard he thinks he might crack the screen.

"oops left my phone off thx for covering for me"

the animated sticker that accompanies the message does nothing to quell his frustrations as he shoves his phone back into his pocket without bothering to answer and downing the champagne in one go.

he makes his way back inside, deciding he'll need a lot more than just one glass tonight.

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a/n: why is rafayel so hard to write for i have to scroll through art to get inspo but i love him very much :x

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