#i am angry. i am tired. i am hurt. and if i hurt you well then maybe you deserve it
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it's so damn sad that i have 500+ of you and no one gives a shit that i am curled up on the floor crying holding my old stuffed cat because it's the only thing that hasn't left me and trying not to have a full on break down and jump out a window, but you will just at the chances to correct my shitty behaviors the moment i even momentarily fuck up. suck my dick/not a threat. jesus christ
i am tired. take what i say tonight with a grain of salt. i can't type due to the fact every ounce of liquid in my body is pouring out through my eyes while i try to convince myself life is worth living.
#kairying in here#im so tired#im so exhausted#i feel like im gonna pass out but my body keeps shaking#i feel like everything i do gets criticized and im so sick of it#let me be a person. let me say shit and regret it on my own god damn terms#do not point it out yes i know what i said what fucked up but i do not care#i am angry. i am tired. i am hurt. and if i hurt you well then maybe you deserve it#because you probably hurt me#you people hurt me so damn much#not all of you#but the ones who know who they are know who they are#of course they're all pussys and have me blocked#dumb fucks#deciding to ghost me and leave me for dead after multiple exhausted work nights telling them how much they matter#bullshit. absolute bullshit. you can't care about anyone without them giving you the finger and leaving you#why do i always need to be left behind?#why am i so undesirable that everyone fucking leaves me?#fuck you. fuck all of this shit#fuck this fuck you tumblr#i give up#im done#i quit. i give up. you win. i am a bad person#i am egotistical and rude and i do not take accountability for my actions#are for you fucking happy?#are you glad that ill be dead by tomorrow? that you'll never need to see my fucking face again?#you win. congrats. you get the honor of seeing me bitch for no one to hear#im sick of this. of all of it#my friends are gone. im “too negative”. fuck that#fuck that and fuck you. go eat shit
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It is incredibly isolating to navigate through fandom as an aromantic person. Aro experiences are so varied, and there is no definite aro experience that encapsulates the alienation that fandom spaces cause for certain people.
Fandom is mostly built and structured on shipping. And if not, the blorbofication of characters, which tends to go down the shipping pipeline; where does that leave the romance repulsed aro person who genuinely does not want to see any form of shipping? Platonic dynamics, right?
Yeah, sure. But by platonic dynamics, it's only "best friends" or "family" right? Where does that leave the aro folks with undefined labels? No, qprs aren't a get-out-of-jail card.
And qprs- they have no rules or standards set upon them by society, not even having a clear definition for what it is, because not all qprs are the same. Yet, for some reason, it ended up becoming the "nonbinary" option to a lot of people- not romantic or "regular" platonic? Qpr it is, right?
But where does that leave the aro folk who don't want a qpr? Who don't wish to see characters depicted in pairs or trios or so forth- who embrace the lack of a partner?
And these concepts presented; when aro folk talk about them, do you care? And if you do, do you understand? Do you try to?
If you aren't aro, but wish to be supportive, are you a genuine ally? Do you raise the concerns of aro folk you share the space with?
Or do you take a look at these concepts- and decide you understand them "well" enough? Do you decide to speak for aro folks instead?
Do you depict relationships outside of romance because you believe in the importance of platonic relationships? Will you accept the fact that not all platonic interactions will be familial or "best friends"?
Can you accept depictions of qprs outside of "more than friends, less than lovers"? Are you willing to accept it is not just "best friends" or "romance lite"? Will you accept that nothing is inherently romantic- and characters in a qpr may fall under your standards of lovers?
Can you resist the urge to put every character in a pair or trio or group? Are you comfortable with the notion of characters finding more joy in being by themselves, outside of all those lenses you see them in?
It's good if you can.
And if you can't, at the very least, do you understand why some aro folk in your space are upset? Embittered by your favorite ships? Starving for representation?
Did you depict these characters with these concepts with the knowledge that aromanticism is fluid?
#antihibikase.txt#Long Post#((I'm sorry. I have been thinking about this for weeks and I am unhappy.))#((Honestly? I have been feeling more and more isolated in fandom recently.))#((It hurts. I know non aro folks are trying.))#((And its hard to describe. It's alienating.))#((And the typical fandom response is more representation- which is well-meaning.))#((But. Specifically to non aro folk. When you depict these aro concepts are you normal about them.))#((Do you do so respectfully.))#((Reminder that qprs are not restricted to aro folks btw.))#((I'm so so tired. It's easy to say you care but then completely miss the mark.))#((And just in case- this is NOT alluding to anyone. Please allow me to let my rage be my own.))#((Or to share this with those who understand.))#((And if you as a non aro person feel attacked by this- sorry.))#((I did my best to word this as firmly as possible without sounding angry because I am aware that-))#((-many will read this in bad faith.))#((Okay to reblog btw.))#((This isn't one of my usual rambles despite it being under my txt tag.))
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i don't know how to be merely acquaintances when we used to be friends. or i think we used to be. i don't know how to yearn for a simple hello when you've been heaping your affection on me months ago, and i don't know how to talk to you when you won't say anything. when suddenly it's all about me. you know i have nothing to say, you know my brain is void of everything but horribleness and i cannot tell you about my day because i don't even know about my day. i cannot tell you about my day when i know you won't listen, when i know you'll apply your philosophy to my world and don't believe me when i say that everything is terrible. i don't know how to be the person you seem to think i am, or the person you want in your life. i don't know if you want anyone else in your life now that you're in love and sappy, found another recipient for your affections, leaving me empty and wounded and yearning.
you said you missed me. said it many times, while i was gone. now i'm back, have been back, and i wonder how you missed me, why you missed me, when you won't talk to me. i think you mistook missing for worrying. i think you mistook caring for a feeling of obligation. i think you like missing me more than talking to me.
and i think i can't breathe with how much that hurts
#how do you miss me when you won't talk to me? how do you like me so much and then go to just. not?#how did i let you in when i try so hard not to let people do that because i know that once they get past the walls all i'll be left with#is the idea of them rotting and withering inside me. polluting the space i create to keep myself safe.#why does everyone leave? leave in silence too. leaving behind so many questions and so many words engraved in my brain#i am so tired of *grieving* when those i grieve are still alive and well and thriving and i'm reminded that it's versions of myself#that i'm grieving instead. how do you grieve yourself? how do you not fucking fall apart over it?#just. fucking talk to me. don't make it be true that all i'll ever be is nothingness and the memory of someone you liked once#but never never never liked enough#i'm so so cold already. i'm a shell. i want to be warm again but it always leaves me so hollow and hurting#i grieve the dio who was warm. i grieve them i miss them i am so so angry that he had to leave. to hide. with no way out#i'm happy for you. i'm happy you're happy. but you're no better than anyone else and it makes me want to run away again#but i have nowhere else to run and no one else to be. and it's so fucked that it doesn't matter who i am i'll never be enough#for someone to just. stay. to see me and to stay. to hear me and to sit and listen and just. just fucking stay.#maybe i'm not worth staying for. maybe there's nothing to know nothing to hear nothing to see nothing to listen to nothing to find#maybe all i'll ever get is one/two good months paid for with a lifetime of grief. and i'm at the point where i don't want the good months#anymore with you or anyone else who tears down these walls with affection that is so endlessly addictive and leaves me yearning.#on the off chance that it will keep the grief away too. but that's the thing about grief isn't it? it's here to stay. unlike you#god this is so fucked up and i'll delete this later but for now i just need to. let it out. poe said i should make a side blog for the grie#but poe's not there anymore. poe has stopped starting fires. so this goes on main until shame makes me take it down#blah#personal#not st
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can I just. shriek. over the way smoothies are marketed so strongly as for weight loss and how oh no we should not put one (1) gram of sugar in it because we MiGhT gEt FaT because I'm just. I'm here looking this stuff up as a way to trick my silly little brain into eating more. I do not need this to be any harder than it already is
#personal#catkin rambles#smoothies#i am very angry actually. well. more just tired. so tired.#the diet industry should go die in a hole#so should using underweight models#and photoshop to make them look unrealistic#and beauty expectations#and diet culture in general#just. no#not all of us need to lose weight! and the ones of us who specifically don't are more likely to have a reason for it i think#and that would be a reason that would be made worse by seeing all this stuff#sometimes i wonder if it's even worth fighting#it would be so much easier to just give up and let things happen as they may#i might try this intuitive eating thing#see how it goes for a bit#it will not hurt me if i *do* lose a bit of weight having significantly overeaten in the last week#idk im just worn out with all of this#i have blender. check. i have large cup with straw. check. i have ingredients#but gee whiz article about what you shouldn't put in smoothies thanks for killing my vague intention to eat today#(well. intention to try smoothie anyway)#16% mortality rate they say
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Oh, yes, I just love your unannounced sleepover where you both come back from the bar after carefully avoiding telling me that's where you were going, and also neglecting to tell me when you'd be home! I definitely do not want to knock you on your ass and take a bat to your dome! That would be rude and unnecessary :)
Oh yes, please do start talking about shit amongst yourselves and make me feel isolated and othered in ny own room! These moments are what I live for, of course. Naturally. Who would ever have any issues with this arrangement at all?
#txt#might delete this later but i also might not because my irritation and rage is real and i shouldnt have to so constantly discard it#i am so tired of constantly putting it aside#i want your blood in my fucking teeth. and it's your fault i want it there- certainly- because I TRY. I try so hard not to feel this way#but eventually you get tired of those little games too#okay I drafted this for a minute bc idk if this fucker is actually spending the night or not i just know he took off his belt. BUT THEN ONE#+ OF THESE FUCKERS DECIDED TO START TALKING ABOUT SPIDERS. A THING THAT I HAVE A VERY BAD PHOBIA ABOUT. I AM GOING TO FUCKING KILL YOU#thinking of killing and maiming and maiming and killing and killing and shredding and tearing and killing and-#seriously though what. the fuck. you even go ''oh they're not gonna like this'' THEN HOW ABOUT YOU DONT FUCKING SAY IT#ohh and now you're sitting here making plans for when you go out without me next! I'm going to make you a bloody smear on my fucking floor#i am going to Dissect you. I'm going to rip you apart and feed you to the local strays and csrrion birds.#not even getting up and leaving right fucking now would assuage me. i wish i wasn't so full of fucking hate but you just keep adding fuel +#+to the fire#im so tired. I'll come back with a ''im fine now'' if he fucking leaves but im going to seethe now. im so fucking angry.#how do you fucks continually just bounce between the topics that makes me feel Most Violent Towards You? literally how do you not realize i#+ want you dead at this point? how do you not realize the grave you've dug for yourselves in my mind?#i dont fucking mask it that well. i know i dont. and still you fucking do this#((part of why it being a bar specifically that bothers me besides the very deliberate and careful avoidance of mentioning it to me is that#+*one of you is at serious risk for becoming an alcoholic. why the fuck are you being enabled this way?*))#((if i was dating someone with a genetic predisposition of alcoholism i would make your regular dates nights- idk- NOT THE FUCKING BAR +#+ DISTRICT. DO YOU EVEN FUCKING CARE ABOUT THEM? DO YOU? This fucking boils my god damn blood.))#(ultimately its their decision if they want to fucking drink yeah sure whatever YOU DONT NEED TO REGULARLY AND READILY ENABLE IT. BASTARD.)#(If they want to drink so fucking bad- if they push for the bars- JUST BUY SOME ALCOHOL AND BRING IT FUCKING HERE. It limits how much they+#+can have for one- and it would isolate me from you two less! just as an added fucking bonus! but no very unreasonable of me. what was i +#+thinking? clearly not about them 🙄)#i might be a little out of line here. i can admit that. but if anyone spent a week in my fucking shoes back when they first got together +#+and then now? you would fucking understand.#and they just. keep. talking. to eachother. no attempts to include me. not even glances my way. like always.#''oh nothing will change'' IT FUCKING CHANGED. I want to hurt you so bsdly for that lie with ever passing day. do you even know it was a li#do you? anyway was abt to post this and noticed a gif i have of a woman ripping her shirt off so im going to stare at that until im calm ig.
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shadow entity!ghost part: one | two | three
cw: angry!ghost, umm he hurts u )-:, but he feels bad so it's okay, a bit shorter than other parts
the mystery surrounding ghost was driving you insane. living with a primordial entity of unfathomable horrors was already a mindfuck but now you realized it could just...erase people from existence.
no one had asked about phillip, no one had shown up to seek you out since you were the last one to see him before he vanished. you even wandered into the bar he said he frequented -- and he seemed well known in. and...nothing. no one even brought up how he went home with you and never returned. no one asked about him.
it was unnerving. had ghost somehow pulled all memory of this one human out of the world along with its physical form? where did phillip even go? all you remember was being surrounded by the shadow and how hard it was to breathe -- and the horrible, inhuman scream before silence.
it had already confirmed that it wasn't a ghost. so what was it?
"ghost?" you called into the house as you returned from the bar, "can you come out so we can talk?"
as you stepped into the living room, you took a glance at the scorch mark on the floor before your attention was diverted to it -- a shadowy manifestation across from you.
it didn't speak, simply stood there. usually you would divert your eyes from its face because something about it unsettled you, but this time you stared right at it. shapes formed and faded before your eyes, making you wonder if you were really seeing them in the first place. eyes, sometimes two sometimes dozens. a vague, fading silhouette of a skull face. you wonder if it intentionally let you see these images or if it just was.
"i-i want to know..." you swallow thickly around the nervous lump in your throat, "is phillip dead?"
it was quiet for a moment, "not quite."
"what's that mean? where is he?" you prod, furrowing your brows as you stare at it, hoping that it can understand your pleading.
"why do you care?"
"b-because..." you sputtered, licking your dry lips, "i just...want to know."
"he's in the pits," it finally supplies, sounding almost bored.
"...of hell?" you sputter, "so you're a demon?"
"your hell is a bastardization of the pits," it explains, "where i come from is not hell. it's worse, darker. that's where i put the human."
"can you...can you bring him back..?" you whisper.
ghost's shadow flickers and it falls silent for a moment before speaking again, "i could. but you don't want that."
you can't help but think you'll regret asking but you do anyway, "...why?"
"he's not the same anymore," it explains, "it's much kinder to simply leave him in the pits."
you're not sure how to take that. it doesn't answer any of your questions. what exactly are the pits? what happens in them? what is happening to phillip down there?
"ghost..." you take a small step back and you swear you see it's head cock to the side curiously, "what are you?"
"you can consider me a demon if you wish," it responded, taking a step forward to follow you.
your heart skips a beat, "but you're not."
"no," it answers with ease.
"so tell me what you are," you demand, growing tired of these mind games it's playing with you.
"i don't think your human mind can comprehend just what i am," it says.
"try me," you challenge, already mentally slapping yourself.
"no," it responds.
your temper flares, "just tell me, damn you! what the hell are you?"
suddenly, the shadow grows in size -- as do your eyes. you watch as it takes up more space in the room, that overpowering weight on your body making you wince. it makes the room feel so heavy, makes your bones ache to the marrow.
you're not sure how you know -- despite the fact it's not saying anything; you know you've made it very angry. your eyes lock onto his shadowy form, making out the horrible, unsettling images of eyeballs inside the darkness that flicker in and out of your vision.
nausea settles like a pit in your stomach and you double over, dropping to your hands and your knees to keep yourself from throwing up. your head throbs and aches, a ringing in your ears only makes the pain worse. it feels like your eyes are going to pop out of their sockets from the overwhelming pressure growing inside your skull.
"s-stop..." you manage to choke out before you slump against the floor.
then, all at once it's gone. you gasp for air once it finally feels like there's nothing coiling around your lungs and tears trickle down your cheeks. you're not sure if you're trembling from the pain or from the fear you just experienced.
you can't bring yourself to uncurl yourself from the ball you've found yourself in on the floor.
you're acutely aware that ghost hasn't left -- in fact, you can hear it's heavy footsteps on the creaky wooden floor as it approaches you. it kneels down, disturbing the air around you with the movement.
you feel a strange weight on your head and it takes your foggy mind a moment to realize that it's touching you. as if it had reached a hand out and was tenderly petting your head, consoling you.
a silent apology before it vanishes completely.
when you finally uncurl and look around, you see yet another strange, scorch mark on the ground where it had stood.
you realize instantly that those scorch marks are a manifestation of it's anger. pure, unbridled rage that leaves a physical mark on the ground where it stands.
you swallow thickly and close your eyes again, deciding that standing is much too hard for now.
do not repost to third party sites. reblogs okay!
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Brotherly support
Azriel x reader (x Rhysand sibling)
Y/N needs her big brother and tells him the good news she has just received.
My feet carry me to Rhys's office. I hadn't even been aware of it until I was standing in front of his door.
He was still in there, since the lights are on and I know about the loads of work he has to do.
Azriel was currently on a mission. He would be gone until at least tomorrow morning. But I couldn't wait.
I knock twice, waiting for my brother to let me in.
"Come in." he says.
I carefully open the door, finding him behind his desk with only a tiny bit of paperwork left.
His face immediately lightens up when he sees me, a tired smile on his face.
I smile back, trying to hide the nervousness. "I see you're almost done." I point out, walking over the chair on the other side of his desk, right in front of him.
"Yes. Well, this could've waited until tomorrow, but I would rather have it done right now." he tells me, looking me over.
I try and speak, but he cuts me off. "What's wrong?" he asks gently.
I try to brush it off. Did I even want to tell him? "Nothing is wrong. I just wanted to see you." I try.
He stares at me for a few seconds. "You don't have to worry about him you know?"
"Oh-. No that isn't... No that isn't the problem. I know I'll see him tomorrow." I tell him, looking at my hands.
"So there is a problem?" he says. "What is it? Did something happen? Are you hurt? Is there something with Az?" worry takes over his voice.
My eyes go wide. "No. No, I'm not hurt. And no Azriel has nothing to do with... this." I say. "Well he has something to do with it, but not right now--" I start spitting out my words nervously.
I suddenly stand. "You know what, I should go. I'll see you tomorrow." I turn to walk away, but Rhys is already standing in front of me.
He takes my hands in his. "Just sit down and tell me what's wrong. You're worrying me." he tells me gently. "Please?"
I feel tears welling in my eyes, but I quickly swallow them back. I know Rhys can see I'm getting emotional. He knows me way too well.
I nod. "Okay." I sit down again. Rhys moves behind his desk and sits down as well.
He looks at me, waiting for me to speak, but he doesn't push.
"So, I've been experiencing some.. sickness for the last two weeks. And I tried to hide it, but it's gotten ten times worse over the last few days."
Rhys's comforting face shifts with worry. "You've never been sick. Are you alright?"
I take a deep breath before speaking. "Well, I went to see Madja about two hours ago, just as she was about to close for the day. And-" I say, looking everywhere but my brother's eyes. "well, I got the news I had expected. But since Az is gone I needed to see you. And I don't know what to do or how to tell him. What if he leaves me? I don't want him to do that." I start talking way too fast for my own brain to follow.
Rhys stops me. "What news did you expect?"
I finally look at him. Of course I had forgotten to tell him that part. "I'm pregnant Rhys."
I had never seen Rhys like this. I couldn't tell if he was angry or happy or sad.
"And you're happy with it?" he asks.
I nod carefully.
He stands and walks over to me, pulling me up into a big warm hug. "Then I am happy too." he says, hugger me tightly.
He releases me from the hug, "Why are you crying?" I hadn't even noticed I was crying.
I laugh, wiping the tears away. "Too many emotions."
He holds my hand. "Az doesn't know?"
I shake my head.
"Do you want me to ask him to come home right now?" he asks.
I shake my head again. "It's only a few more hours. I'll tell him tomorrow." I smile at my brother.
He puts a hand on my back, leading me out of the room. "Why don't we have a sibling evening."
I chuckle. "But it's already midnight."
"So?"
A rough warm hand caresses my cheek. I groan as light fills my vision.
"Hey." a gentle deep voice says. My favorite voice in the world.
I keep my eyes closed, but my arms open for my mate.
He chuckles and carefully lays down next to me, taking me into his arms instead.
"When did you get back?" I ask him while wrapping my arms around his body.
"A few minutes ago." he tells me. "I went to give a report to Rhys, but he told me to see you first."
My eyes shoot open, remembering yesterday.
"Is everything okay?" he asks, putting his hand on my cheek again. He must've felt my panic.
I look up at him for a few seconds. "Yes. But there is something you need to know."
He looks at me with curiosity. "Well, what is it? You're kind of confusing me."
I sit up. "So you know I've been a bit sick." I say.
"Well that doesn't sound very comforting. But yes, I know."
I snort. "Well, it turns out to be a good kind of sick."
He raises his eyebrows. "Good?" I can see him think, giving him a few more seconds to figure it out himself.
I can see the exact moment he realizes. His face turns into shock and excitement. "Are you..?"
I nod, feeling myself get emotional. "Yes I am."
Azriel laughs and throws his arms around me, hugging me tightly. "I can't believe it."
I hug him back. This was the reaction I had hoped for. Tears fall down my face and a sob leaves my mouth.
Azriel pulls away from me to look at my face. "Hey what's wrong? This is happy news right?"
"Happy tears." I sob again. "I don't know why I'm so emotional."
He wipes my tears away with his thumbs. "We're going to be parents." he says with excitement.
I nod, letting out a laugh and kissing him.
He slowly pulls away from me. "Does Rhys know? Is that why he told me to see you first?" Azriel asks.
I nod again. "I told him last night after I visited Madja. I didn't know what to do."
"And he wasn't like... mad?" Azriel asks me.
"No Az, he isn't going to try and kill you for getting me pregnant. He was really happy actually." I tell him with a laugh. "And even if he wasn't, it wouldn't matter. We are happy. That's all that matters."
Azriel lets out a sigh of relief. "That's good."
"It's finally happening." I whisper. "We'll be parents in a few months."
Azriel smiles. "Yes we will." he pulls me as close as possible, tugging me to lay down in bed.
That's how we stayed for the following hours, wrapped in each others warmth, talking about baby names and the possible gender. Simply perfect.
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𝘾𝘼𝙍 𝙎𝙀𝙓
• 𝙎𝙈𝙐𝙏, 𝙎𝙈𝙐𝙏𝙏𝙔, 𝙎𝙈𝙐𝙏
• 𝙄𝙁 𝙔𝙊𝙐 𝘼𝙍𝙀 𝙐𝙉𝘿𝙀𝙍 18+ 𝘿𝙊 𝙉𝙊𝙏 𝙍𝙀𝘼𝘿!
• 𝙐𝙉𝙋𝙍𝙊𝙏𝙀𝘾𝙏𝙀𝘿 𝙎𝙀𝙓 (𝘿𝙤𝙣𝙩 𝙗𝙚 𝙨𝙞𝙡𝙡𝙮 𝙬𝙧𝙖𝙥 𝙞𝙩 𝙪𝙥) 𝙋 𝙄𝙉 𝙑.
• 🩶 • • • 🌙 • • • • ✨ • • • ✨ • • • • 🌙 • • • 🩶 •
Dean and Y/N had been arguing the whole car ride back to the hotel. “Oh so now I’m not good enough?!” She asked him angry as he snapped his head towards her. “I never said that.” Dean told her as she shook her head not believing his word at all. “I’m a girl so I won’t get the work done right?” She sneered at the Winchester hunter. “I never said that!” He yelled back at her taking his eyes off the road for a second to look at her. “Well, that’s how it sounded to me.” She told her as she crossed her arms across her chest. “Oh I’m sorry!” He said sarcastically to her.
Y/N scoffed as he sighed. “I’m sorry okay.” He said that time genuinely. “No, you’re not.” She told him not wanting to give in to him. “Look—.” “No!” She said. Dean groaned and pulled his impala over to the side. “What are you doing?” She asked him as he put his car in park and gets out. She watched him as he walked over to the passenger side of the car and he opened it pulling her out. “Let me go.” She tried to get his grip off of her. “Stand.” He ordered making her glare at him. “Look, I’m sorry okay? I mean it.” He said as she shakes her head. “Let’s just go.” She told him. “No! Not until you take the apology.” He said to her as she shakes her head and leaned against the hood of the impala. “We’re not leaving until you take the apology.” He told her as she looked up at the him.
“Well, then we are going to stay here all night.” She smiled up at the hunter. “Come on!” He said as he turned to look at the view from where he had parked. The place was alone. So, they had some privacy in the place. Y/N just looked at the view not saying a thing. She wanted to get on his nerves, just like he has the past week. She was done and she was really annoyed with him. Sam would say they act like a lot like a couple, more like a married couple. Y/N would throw him something as he would just laugh like it was a joke to him. He would say that the sexual tension between them was really strong and they will explode one day and they will have some most likely angry, fun, sex. Y/N scoffed at the thought she had.
She would prefer to burn in hell again. Then to ever have sex with Dean. Well, she wouldn’t admit it to her self or to anyone like ever. “So, you’re just gonna be there?” He asked her as he turned back around to her. “Well, where am I supposed to be?” She snipped at him. Y/N and Dean had been best friends since they can remember. But lately they had been going at it back and forth between arguments about her safety and what not. And it would really piss her off.
She groaned. “What do you want from me? You’re acting like I can’t take care of myself.” She told him I’m very capable, Dean!” She raised her voice at him. She was fed up with the same argument every day. Everytime they went on a hunt and she got a little hurt. She was just tired of all of it. She was done.
Dean glared into her back and stomps over to her in anger. He grabbed her arm and turned her around to face him. “I know you can, but I worry, Sammy he worries.” He said to her. Y/N angrily pushed him back into the impala slamming him against it with her arm on his neck. “Leave me—.” Before she could say anything. Dean slammed his lips against hers so she would stop talking. She didn’t hesitate to kiss him back. He grabbed her waist turning her around and slammed her against the impala making her gasp into the kiss. Y/N took his bottom lip and bites it hard making wince. Breathing heavily. Dean pulled away a few inches away from her. She was so turned on by the kiss. “Fuck me.” She whispered against his lips.
He didn’t hesitate a moment. He opened the back door of the impala pulling her inside with him as she got on top of his lap. Both hunters ripping each others clothes off flying everywhere around the car. Dean took her nipple in his mouth making her throw her head back rolling her hips wanting some kind of friction. His other hand taking in her other nipple as she moaned. Doing the same thing with the other. He lets go. He reached down rubbing softly her clothed pussy making her moan, as he moved it to the side.
Y/N reached down on him and unzipped his pants reaching inside bringing out his unbelievably hard shaft her hands pumping it making him throw his head back as his moans softly. Y/N lifted herself up as he looked into her eyes putting it in her entrance. Dean grabs her hips as she slides down. She moans as he stretched her out. Dean gripped her hips tightly as he thrusted up as she slides down. “Oh god!” She fell forward as his tip hits her G-spot. Dean holds her waist as she started moving up and down his dick.
“Fuck, you feel so tight.” Dean groaned as she started going faster. Y/N sat up straight putting her hands on his chest for support as she bounced on him at a rapid pace getting moans out of the hunter. Her moans started getting louder as she clenched around him her orgasm at bay. Dean knew he was about to cum as well as he felt his dick start to twitch “let go for me, princess, let it all go.” Was all he need to say as she gasped her breathing stopping as her eyes rolled to the back of her as she shook uncontrollably. Just watching the way she trembled on top of him, the way her walls fluttered it had triggered his own climax. “Aaargh!!” Dean gripped her hips very tightly rolling her hips making him hiss as he released his seed inside of her. Spurt after spurt as she gasped at the overstimulation he was giving her. “Dean, fuck! Dean, aah!” She digs her nails into his chest as she felt her second one coming along. She was so sensitive that she tensed as she screwed her eyes shut as she shook another orgasm overtaking her body in ways she couldn’t imagine.
She felt like she was sent to heaven. Dean lets out a loud grunt and stopped her as she flopped onto his chest breathing heavily as she felt her heart about to come out of her chest. “Argh, fuck.” Dean glowed as he lifted her up off of him as she sat on his side her eyes closed as she catches her breath from what just happened. She’s been with men before. But no one and she means no one ever came close to giving her an orgasm like he did. And not just once but twice.
She opened her eyes after a while a lazy smile on her face. “Fuck.” She said laughing as she looked over at a smiling Winchester hunter. “That was…” she didn’t know what word to use for what had just happened.
“Amazing? Heavenly?” He said laughing as they both sat there. “Yeah you could say that.” She said as she bites her lip. She looked at his softening dick and she bites her lips. He was pretty big. She could’ve felt it when he would slam into her. “Like what you see?” He asked her as she looked back to his eyes as he smirked. “Yeah, I do actually.” She said. “Would it be too much to say… I want another round?” She asked.
“Trust me sweetheart, way ahead of you.” He said as he looked down, making her look down and saw his dick getting hard again. She smiled. He grabbed her from her waist making her lay down making her giggle as he got between her legs. His hard dick thrusted into her sensitive pussy making her gasp.
It’s how they sent the reminder of two hours. Both letting out frustrations with each other.
• 🩶 • • • • 🌙 • • • ✨ • • • ✨ • • • 🌙 • • • • 🩶 •
If you have any requests lmk. I’ll see what I can do. Since I don’t really do stuff like this. I can try. The only things I don’t do. Are daddy kinks or wincest, or age gap. But other than that feel free. If you can a castiel one. Lmk I don’t write about him but I’ll do it for you and I’ll try my very best to do it. ☺️ ps. I’m a destiel shipper but I don’t write destiel smut sorry.
#supernatural#spn#spnfandom#dean winchester#jensen ackles#dean winchester smut#dean winchester x y/n#dean winchester x you#dean winchester x reader
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You know how in the movie, Miles mom gets angry when he says, ‘whatever’ can you do that with latina!wife for Miguel?
𝐘𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐝𝐚𝐲
Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x Wife!Reader
Summary: Miguel hasn't had a proper night's rest in days, and quite frankly you missed him. Too bad he's too swamped with work to notice.
Warnings: None! Just a silly lil fic.
⚝
You know those days where you’re just teetering on the edge? It could be for absolutely no reason at all, or maybe a collection of things, all you knew was that it just makes every action you take frustrating.
Well, that was you today.
Granted it wasn’t for no reason. Yesterday, Miguel had promised to come back home for dinner and sleep in his own bed, because for the last few days he had been swamped with work and mission reports. You understood the work he did was important, truly, but you missed him. That, and he was a chronic overworker who would only stop when he collapsed from exhaustion, and you were not going to let it get to that point.
It was getting tiring having to beg him to come back to rest, even for a moment. Spider powers or not, everyone needs a break.
“Uh oh…” you hear Lyla say as you march into the monitoring room, but you continue to press onward.
“Miguel!” you call up to him, but he doesn’t even bother turning around to face you, rummaging through papers and swiping through screens.
“Querida, is there something you need?” he asks nonchalantly like nothing was wrong.
“Yes! There is, actually. What happened to coming home yesterday, hm~?” you say, irritation rising in your voice.
“Oh…is it already the next day?” he asks, still not looking toward you. “I’m sorry, vida mía. I guess I got carried away, I’ll try to be back later alright?” he says, trying to placate you.
“You can’t keep going on like this Miguel, it’s not healthy. One evening of a break won’t hurt. Hell, I’ll even help you out with paperwork, and Lyla can too. So come home tonight, alright? For me, please?”
“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” he says without thinking, only half listening to you.
“Excuse me?” you say, your voice stone cold and immediately Miguel stiffens, slowly turning toward you with a sheepish look on his face.
“Vida mía,” he says, his expression apologetic as his platform begins to lower to the floor. You don’t have the patience to wait for it though, choosing to swing up with your webs and meet him at his level.
“Miguel O'Hara, who do you think you’re talking to?" you say lowly. "I’m not one of your subordinates, I am your wife,” Your hands are planted on your hips as you look up at him annoyedly.
“I know, I know,” he says hurriedly, “I’m sorry. I said it without thinking.”
“Sorry isn’t good enough. We’re going home, now,” you say, grabbing his hand and leaving no room for argument. “Lyla, have Jess take over for the rest of today, alright?”
“Aye, aye, captain!” she says, snickering at the interaction between the two of you.
“Querida, there’s still so much work I have to do,” he says, resisting your pull but you continue to drag you along.
“Should have thought of that before you said ‘whatever’ to me, Miguel,” you say, but sigh. “I’m only trying to look out for you, is that so bad?”
He pauses, studying your worried expression that was because of him. It caused a wave of guilt to wash over him after he disregarded your care for work instead.
“I know…alright, let’s go home sweetheart,” he says, finally relenting as he presses a kiss to your forehead. Immediately you light up, grasping his hand tighter.
“I’ll make your favourite today, and we can take a bath later if you’d like?” you suggest.
“I would love that, tesoro.”
A/N: Thank you for reading!
Taglist: @beiroviski, @scaraza, @blueoorchid, @remuslupinwifee, @phobia0325, @local-mr-frog, @johfaam0, @raweggohan, @honeycriess, @alexenoirex, @chimpkinnuggies, @rqdior, @banana--belle, @notasadgirlipromise, @6billionyearsold, @gods-perfectidiot, @phobia0325, @honeii-puff, @ieatmunson
#miguel o’hara x reader#miguel o'hara#miguel x reader#miguel ohara x reader#miguel o hara#spiderman 2099#spiderman across the spiderverse#across the spiderverse#across the spider verse spoilers#spiderman#spiderman 2099 x reader#marvel#fluff!
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You know I love you girl 𓇼 Kenji Sato X Reader
Content warnings: F!reader, hurt, comfort, established relationship, smut, pnv, cunnilings.
Words: 2,029
Notes: Probably my last short one until I finish my long form one. Anyways, I am all about soft kenji so pls enjoy <33.
𓆉︎ ☼ 𓇼 ☼ ꩜𓆉︎ ☼ 𓇼 ☼ ꩜𓆉︎ ☼ 𓇼 ☼ ꩜𓆉︎ ☼ 𓇼 ☼
Sometimes, not so often, you and Kenji will get into these little disagreements, simple fights in other words. And sometimes, neither of you will apologize, you’ll both go to sleep angry, backs facing each other rather than holding each other. You both need your space after fights, a little time to really sit and think, and then you’ll apologize or he’ll apologize and things will be back to normal.
But recently, you got upset about something that started this whole problem. You can put up with Kenji’s life as a celebrity, him taking pictures with fans and doing the whole sports celebrity thing but him being gone all the time bothers you a bit. You were fine with it before but something about it just really grinds your gears now. You don't say anything about it at first, that is until he tells you a specific time he's coming home, and then he comes home hours later without saying a word. The first time it happened you brushed it off, he apologized, explained what happened and that was that.
However, around the fourth time, you explained to him why it was making you upset, and asked him why he kept forgetting to let you know. Kenji isn't a cheater, you know that very well, he would never do anything like that to you but you just can't help but wonder what he's up to.
“I don't understand why it's so hard to at least send me a text,” you say, your tone firm but voice rather soft. You never yell, rarely ever raise your voice, Kenji is the same way except sometimes he can get a little carried away. “I just dont see the problem, you have my location,” he points out, the tone of his voice makes you nearly lose it. You two had been going at it for thirty minutes now and you were about fed up, tired of his excuses. “It doesn't matter that I have your location,” you argued, crossing your arms over your chest, “It’s still important that you tell me you're gonna be a little late, if you just sent me a text, we wouldn't even be having this conversation.” Some harsh words were said from the both of you, the argument about his absence turning into a fight about a plethora of other things. Eventually you gave up, frustrated and upset, eyes stinging with tears, you decided to go to bed a little earlier that night.
About an hour later, you're still awake, staring at the dark ceiling. You left the curtains open to let some cool light from the city and moon pour in. The familiar click of the door opening could be heard throughout the silent room, you turn around, back facing the door to avoid any contact. Kenji stands in the doorway, shirtless, the scent of his body wash rushes into the room, sea salt and cedar. He stares at your backside covered by the silk blankets, a pang of guilt stabs him in the heart. You hear the door close softly, squeezing your eyes shut to pretend you're asleep as he gets in bed with you. His eyes linger on your face for a while.
“I know you’re awake,” he says, sitting up right in the bed, “I’ve seen you asleep thousands of times and I know your face doesn't look anything like that.” His words make you sigh, opening your tired eyes slowly, glaring at him. He feels bad, you can tell just by the way he's staring down at you. “Look, I'm sorry,” he finally says, “I know I should text you when I'm gonna be longer, and honestly I get a little tired of being out all the time.”
“I wish I could be here with you every moment of the day and night,” he continues, reaching under the blanket and grabbing one of your hands, “and I'm sorry for what I said, I didn't mean any of it.” He places a gentle kiss on your palm, his lips soft against your skin. You think for a moment, appreciating the fact that he's apologizing even if it's an hour later. “I'm sorry too,” you say softly, voice muffled, “I just wish I could spend more time with you.”
“I know,” he hums, “I do too.” You stare at each other for a minute in silence before Kenji suddenly pulls the blanket down lower on your body. A smile graces his face when he sees you wearing one of his shirts, he toys with the fabric momentarily before gently pushing you onto your back. Before you can say anything he crawls on top of you, pressing his lips onto your forehead before grabbing your waist and scooting you up further on your pillow a bit. Kenji was rather skilled with his hands, and his silence. He was practically fluent in touches, enough to make you forget the events of what happened earlier. His lips travel to your neck as his hands explore your somewhat exposed body, running them up through the shirt and then down to your bare thighs. His breath gentle against your supple neck, nipping and kissing at your wonderful skin. He pulls away, trailing kisses down to where the shirt starts and then he sits up, nestling himself between your legs and placing gentle, mellow kisses on your legs. It's not long before he reaches your thighs, giving them the same treatment he had the rest of your body. He places his hands on your thighs, holding your legs open and rubbing your skin with his thumbs.
His lithe fingers curl under your panties suddenly, moving them to the side. It catches you off guard, so naturally you flinch, looking down at him with glossed over eyes. “Relax,” he breathes, his breath fanning over your already soaked cunt, “I just wanna make it up to you.” You watch him open his mouth slowly, sticking his tongue out and pressing it against your clit. The feeling makes you twitch and you lay your head on the pillow with a quiet whimper. You feel him wrap his lips around the sensitive bud, sucking and licking softly. He was without a doubt, so excellently skilled at this, you would mark it as another language he was fluent in. Surrounded by your thighs, his fingers pressing into your skin and leaving red marks with his short nails, his mouth working at your core. Everything about this moment had you on edge. His tongue eventually slips into your cunt, keeping a reasonable pace as he watches you writhe simply because of his mouth.
He gasps into your cunt, pulling away briefly before burying his head between your legs again. His eyes closed, determined expression written all over his slicked face. At this point, hungrily, rolling your hips into his mouth, his nose bumping your clit ever so often. He reaches up, pressing a hand on your stomach. “Stop moving, love,” he breathes, pulling away from your weeping cunt, “let me take care of you.” Your hands find their way to his hair, pulling on his black locks when his mouth meets your cunt again.
“Kenji,” you breathe, your head moving side to side on the satin pillow. The familiar heat pools in your stomach, threatening to release in an intense orgasm, but the feeling is pulled away from you along with Kenji’s mouth. “I know, I know,” he says softly when you let out a noise of protest, “I’ll let you feel it in a minute.” You watch him tug his sweats off, along with his boxers. He grabs his cock with a large hand, angling so his flushed tip rubs against your dripping entrance. He leans down, his lips graze over your neck. You tilt your head up, sucking in a breath when you feel him slide into you. “Fuck,” he sighs, a grin appearing on his sculpted face, “it’s been so long.” His breathing is shaky as he slides deeper into you, filling you to the brim until his tip nuzzles just perfectly against your sweet spot. He stretches you out pleasantly, your plush walls already tightening around him. You see his adam's apple bob with a swallow, his eyes trained on your face, focused on your contorted expression of pleasure. A whimper slips off your tongue as he pulls out slowly before pressing back in. Your eyes close as he continues to thrust into you, mouth open in a silent moan.
With every slow, deep thrust of his hips, stars blur your vision, eyes watering as he fucks the tears out of you. “Ken–” you whine, breathless and quiet, each stroke practically taking your breath away. “I wanna hear you, baby,” he says, his voice hoarse but gentle. Another deep thrust, hitting your sweet spot perfectly makes you cry out, reaching up and digging your nails into his back. The feeling of your nails makes goosebumps rise on his skin, knowing that you're gonna leave marks for him to see in the morning. He smiles, completely drunk on the feeling of your warm cunt, a quiet chuckle, barely audible, heard from his filthy lips.
“Even when im gone,” he groans, fucking into you with a bit of a quicker pace now, but not too fast, “when im busy, you know I still think about you. You’re always on my mind.” The sound of his groans fills the room, mixed with your soft moans. “You feel so good,” he grunts, his hips connecting to yours before pulling back slowly, “seriously, all I think about is you and this perfect cunt that I’ve missed so much.”
His soft, wet lips graze yours, making you open your lidded eyes. “Kiss me,” he says, firmly, “please, hm?” His little hum makes you lose your mind, you love it when he does that. You cup his face, pulling him down just a bit until your lips finally connect. He moans into your mouth, slipping his tongue inside by force almost. Your back arches, thighs tighten as he continues to repeatedly hit that sweet spot in you.
The heat pools inside you again, your moans and ragged breathing picking up in volume, his thrusts still continuing at the same, even pace. “Kenji—ah—fuck, Kenji—!” You mewl, throwing your head back, parting from the heated kiss with him. “Gonna cum for me?” He says, dirty but still in that same gentle tone, “hm?”
“Y-Yes,” you gasp out, “ah, yes.” He smiles again, your whiny pleads sending shivers down his spine as the pleasure climbs up yours. Your plush walls tighten around him like a vice as your climax builds up in you. “Good girl, cum for me” he whispers, his lips trailing up the line of your jaw. It’s almost as if those simple words were the signal for you, because seconds later your peak crests and you cum all over his cock. You cry out for him, desperately arching your back and scratching lines into his with your nails. He continues to thrust into you, drawing out your orgasm as your tears fall just as they had before. At this point, you're too blinded by your orgasm and his cock to even tell if he’s cumming himself.
Your whole body shudders as you come to rest back on the bed, the silk sheets sticking to your sweaty skin. He sits up, staring at your fucked out state. Your chest rises slowly as you attempt to chase your breath, your eyes shut tightly, mouth open and brows furrowed. Both your arms sprawled out about your head, twitching as you came down from your release. He slowly pulls his softening cock out of you, still watching your face for any change. He gets up, leaving the room momentarily before returning with a towel, carefully and gently, he removes your panties and cleans you up before cleaning himself up. He gets you a new pair of panties before snuggling back into bed with you, pulling you into his arms tightly. “I’m sorry,” he whispers again, placing a soft kiss to the top of your head. You squeeze your eyes shut, pulling him in even tighter.
𓆉︎ ☼ 𓇼 ☼ ꩜𓆉︎ ☼ 𓇼 ☼ ꩜𓆉︎ ☼ 𓇼 ☼ ꩜𓆉︎ ☼ 𓇼 ☼
#ken sato#ken sato x reader#kenji sato#kenji sato x reader#kenji sato smut#⋆。𖦹°‧ukume!#ken sato smut#ultraman rising
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deal - cl16 (21/?)
Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Reader
Series Summary: Your whole life has gone to shit. Your boyfriend broke up with you, you just lost your job and the Monegasque, who suddenly stands in your doorway, claims that it’s his apartment.
Chapter Summary: The truth comes under purple skies.
Warnings: angst, but mostly tooth rotting fluff because you deserve it
Word Count: 3.4k
series masterlist
previous part
A/N: a little late happy birthday to me! sorry for the wait. I love you.
Although you keep your eyes closed, you know that it is still dark outside.
The air in the room is cool against your face, while your tired body is kept comfortably warm under the heavy comforter. It is just as warm against the free, uncovered parts of your body as Charles' soft skin.
His arm is wrapped around your middle, his fingers are tightly intertwined with yours and his thumb strokes gentle circles over your hand. A tender, loving gesture that you're not sure whether it's meant to calm your nerves or his own.
You haven't changed your positions in bed since you fell asleep pressed tightly together a few hours ago. Charles's chest is still pressed against your back and if you were to focus on it, you could certainly feel his heart beating hard and steady. But you don't. Your thoughts revolve around breathing as normally as possible so that it still looks like you're asleep.
You don't want to be awake.
Being awake would involve thinking, and you definitely don't want to think about the last few days. You don't want to think about how Charles told you that you would jump into bed with Lando at the next opportunity. You don't want to think about Raphael coming to your front door last night and calling you a whore. And you don't want to be reminded that Charles jumped to your side and defended you without so much as batting an eye.
All you want right now is to lie here, in his strong arms, wrapped in his scent and warmth. Deep down, you know you can't be angry with him. Lando's words flit through your head again and again about how you both want to protect each other, and even though you've only known each other for a few days, you can tell Charles so well that it's exactly this part of him that makes him who he is.
But you still don't know why he treated you like that.
You breathe in deeply, take in his scent - a mixture of sandalwood, peppermint and a smell that you can only describe as Charles - and press your face into the soft pillow. Although you had been furious with him, you had missed his closeness over the last few days.
The thumb that has been tenderly drawing figures on your hand pauses.
"I'm sorry." Charles' voice is little more than a whisper against your shoulder blade. As his warm breath brushes over you, your muscles tighten. "No apology in this world can make up for what I did to you. I betrayed your trust, hurt you, and left you thinking I didn't care about you." When you don't answer him, he continues. "I am so incredibly sorry. And I won't ask for your forgiveness or kindness, because I don't deserve it. I don't deserve you. And I'm sorry I couldn't be better for you."
Your heart beats so fast against your ribcage that you fear it will break your bones and jump out of your chest. His touch feels like your skin is burning. When you open your eyes, you see purple clouds in the morning sky through the window.
Carefully, you turn in his arms, whereupon his embrace loosens a little, but his arm remains on your hip. His eyes are closed, as if he doesn't dare to look into your face. His eyebrows are furrowed and there are a few wrinkles between them that you would love to smooth out with your fingers.
You decide to run your fingers over his bare shoulders. His muscles twitch under your fingertips. "Why did you do it?" Charles remains silent, so you tentatively place your hand against his cheek. You feel his stubble scratch your skin as he exhales deeply, as if he hasn't taken a decent breath in a long time.
He opens his eyes and there is an anxious gleam in the otherwise beautiful green. His gaze searches yours as he nuzzles his face against your hand. "I was jealous."
Jealous?
A small glimmer of hope flares up inside you. Maybe everything you've experienced together - the viewpoint, your movie night, the bookstore, the tiramisu - is based on something other than friendship. On something more. Maybe there was more to every conversation, every look and every smile than just the friendship you nailed down to protect your heart. Maybe you were just talking past each other the whole time. Maybe –
"I was jealous of how well you got on with Lando. I thought that if you got to know each other better and became more than just friends, then we wouldn't be friends anymore. I thought -" He pauses for a moment. "I couldn't bear it if I lost you because of your relationship."
You try to suppress the punch in the pit of your stomach and swallow the frog in your throat. "You hurt me and pushed me away because you didn't want to get hurt yourself?" Your heart breaks a little for him. You finally smooth out the wrinkles between his eyebrows with your thumb. His arm wraps around you tighter and presses you together. His fingers stroke your back and goose bumps spread across your body.
That's exactly what Lando said. That Charles pushes the people he cares about away to protect himself. Something you can well understand, after all, you were planning to do the same to him. Only not so drastically.
But Lando also told you something else about the Monegasque. "But that's not all, is it?" An image flickers in your mind's eye of Raphael holding out his hand to introduce himself to Charles. "You didn't just want to protect yourself. Or am I wrong, Charles Leclerc?"
As you say his name, a shiver jerks through his body, as if he's suddenly cold, and his hand freezes against your spine. "You're not." His tone is cooler, more distant than it was a few moments ago, and the tension in the room is palpable despite the purple clouds and morning calm as you place your hand on his bare chest. His heart is beating fast and strong.
"I - I think we both rushed into this friendship far too quickly." You try to put as much warmth into your whisper as you can, even though deep down your heart has caught quite a tear. "We've known each other for five days. And so much has happened in that time that takes some friends years. Our trust in each other went from zero to one hundred." You run your finger over his collarbone, your gaze following him.
Panting, he sucks air into his lungs at your touch. "What do you suggest?"
You purse your lips. "Maybe - maybe we should get to know each other better first. Get to know each other properly so that this doesn't happen again. So that our living together is easier."
Charles tightens his grip around your middle, his legs tangle with yours. "Living together? Does that mean you're staying with me?"
You nod slightly, but grab your arm with your hand to pull away from him. Something flits across his face, but as quickly as it came, it's gone again as you place his hand between your faces on the pillows. "But maybe a little distance will do us good. So we don't mess this up."
His fingers interlace with yours. "I'll do everything I can to make this work."
"That makes two of us," you smile, missing his touch on your body. You miss the warmth pulsing through your veins under your skin. But it's the right thing to do. At least that's what you try to tell yourself. You take a deep breath. "I - I'm unemployed, by the way." You look down at your hands. "I was fired from this magazine before we met. I'm looking for a new job so that I can continue to live in Monaco, because my savings won't last forever. That's why I'm so grateful to you for standing up for me with Joris. About the rent. I can't thank you enough for that."
"But you don't have to," he replies quietly. "Friends help each other. They're there for each other. I can understand why you didn't tell me. Nobody likes to talk about the fact that they've recently lost their job."
"Thank you," you whisper back. You feel a weight fall from your shoulders. You suddenly find it easier to breathe. But now it's something else that's plaguing your thoughts.
And no one but Charles can give you the answer. "Can you please explain to me what happened yesterday? With - with Raphael?"
The Monegasque briefly lets go of your hand so that he can play with your fingers. He doesn't look at you. "Do you remember the night we watched Cars together?"
You nod. How could you forget that night? The wine, the movie, the flirting that apparently wasn't flirting. Ouch.
"We talked about Formula One and how you used to watch it with your grandfather when Michael Schuhmacher drove for Ferrari." His gaze is literally glued to your fingers. "When we first met, I told you that my work had something to do with cars, and I wasn't lying."
You raise an eyebrow in confusion. If he's a mechanic or engineer for one of the racing teams, that woiuld explain why he has to travel so much for work. "Is that where all the cool photos on your phone come from? Because you fly across the globe with Formula 1 to work on the cars?"
Your flatmate purses his lips. "I don't work on the cars. I - I drive them." He licks his lips once. "I'm a Formula One driver for Scuderia Ferrari."
"Don't fuck with me," you reply, wanting to pull your fingers out of his grasp. But he holds on to them and when he lifts his gaze and looks you in the eyes, you know he's telling the truth. And his confession makes you see the last few days from a different perspective.
The conversation between Charles and Joris, shortly after he suddenly appeared in the apartment, pops up in your mind. "When we met, that night - you were on the phone with Joris. You said something about headlines."
He nods slightly. "A few weeks ago, the season ended and Annika and I broke up. I stayed away from here as long as I could because I didn't want to be confronted with it. And when I got to my apartment for emergencies, there you were. With a valid tenancy agreement. I couldn't just throw you out the door. You could have gone public and then it would have made the headlines. Something like "Charles Leclerc throws poor woman out of rented apartment". It was a risk I couldn't take." He furrows his eyebrows again, but this time you hold back.
"You have a nutritionist."
Again he nods. "For the races, I have to follow a strict diet to make the car go faster. Unfortunately, pasta and thick sandwiches aren't part of it, so please don't tell him."
Fragments of the last few days appear one after the other in your mind's eye, which you try to sort out and work through. "The bistro you went to after the bookshop had already closed, hadn't it?"
"Yes. But when do you ever have a Formula One driver on your doorstep who needs two sandwiches?" He shrugs. "One photo and we've had our dinner."
You lick your tongue over your lips and you don't miss the way Charles' eyes twitch to your mouth. "We went everywhere in my car. Why?"
"You've seen my car." He's referring to the fancy Ferrari in the parking garage. "With its stripes, it's not exactly inconspicuous. Especially since everyone knows the car is mine." He runs his thumb over the side of your index finger. "As soon as the car rolls down the street, everyone knows it's me. And everyone takes photos of it. I couldn't risk you getting caught up in all this because of a stupid car. And especially not because you couldn't choose it until now. Your sweet tin can was the only way we could get around the city together without attracting attention."
You clench your jaw. "The meetings in Italy. What about it?"
"The headquarters are there, in Maranello. Before the winter break, the team wanted to get together again and discuss what went wrong this season and what we can improve."
"And you could just leave like that?" you ask him.
He shakes his head. "Not really. But in my opinion, there wasn't much to talk about either. The season was a throwaway." He shrugs his shoulders. "I was actually a little relieved when Lando called and asked me to go home."
So you were right. The Brit did call Charles. "And what did he say?"
"Exactly what I needed to hear." He smiles slightly. "He threw a lot of swear words at me and made it clear that I'd be the stupidest idiot in the world if I screwed up this friendship."
You don't know what to do with this information. The fact that Lando called Charles and made a slug out of him doesn't bother you much, because the Monegasque needed the push. But there's also something about the fact that Charles didn't come up with the idea of straightening things out himself. That one of his friends had to step in for you first so that he would get off his butt and stand up for this friendship. That Lando -
"What about Lando? And Pierre? And Kika? Are they part of Formula One too?"
Charles purses his lips into a thin line. "Lando and Pierre are also drivers. Kika is a model."
Bile rises in your gullet as you release your hand from his and turn onto your back, closing your eyes. Everyone knew, they even work in the same field, and no one thought to let you in on it. The whole thing could have gone down the drain. People could have recognized you both, taken photos of you and spread the word.
"I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner. I -" Charles exhales. "I was just scared."
"Scared? Of what?"
"My job - my name - brings a lot with it. A lot of good things, like seeing the world, getting to know cultures and not having to worry about things like money. But there are also negative things, like a lot of pressure, fake friends, no privacy." He also turns onto his back. "I don't want you to choose something you don't want because of my name. I thought - I thought if we stayed in our little bubble, our little world, that - I don't know. It was just nice to have someone as a friend who wanted to be friends with me because I'm Charles. And not because I'm Charles Leclerc."
You have to smile. "Actually, I'm only friends with you so that I can live with you and save on rent."
"Haha."
You clasp your hands behind your head. "I can understand, I think. That you have to be careful who you surround yourself with. And that there are a lot of people who only use you because you're you. It sounds very lonely."
Charles snorts softly. "It can definitely be lonely."
"Then let me assure you that I don't want to be friends with you because of your money or your name."
"But?"
"Do you really need reasons?"
"It certainly wouldn't hurt my ego," you can practically hear his grin.
"All right," you reply. "I want to be friends with you because you're kind and considerate of your friends' feelings. Because you trusted me with your favorite place, even though you didn't know me. Because you introduced me to your friends because you thought it was inevitable anyway if our friendship strengthened." You take a deep breath and exhale. "I want to be friends with you because you're funny and make me laugh. Because you have a big heart. Because -"
A feeling bubbles up inside you. You've felt it before - the day after your movie night, when you were reviewing the evening. In the not entirely innocent dream you had about Charles. And when you shared the bed after the bookshop.
It's warm, like a warm blanket, strong like a good hug and bright like Charles' eyes when the sun shines on his face. Charles is not just your roommate. Or your friend. Charles is so much more. Charles is your home.
Before you can complete the sentence, the Monegasque interrupts you. "That's good. That's good enough for me, thank you." He smiles. "It's nice to have you as a friend. Even if I don't deserve it, the way I've treated you."
"Mm-hmm."
"Maybe you should sleep on it one more night and then decide if you really want it. There's so much more that comes with a friendship with me." When you yawn, he has to laugh. "You see? Maybe you're not even able to think straight right now. And then I push you into a friendship that you don't even want."
"I'm sure," you reply tiredly and you notice how your eyes get heavier.
"But -"
Before he can finish his sentence, you reach for his hand and interlace his fingers with yours. You try to ignore the fact that this makes your heart beat faster. "I'm sure of it. Believe me."
When you gently squeeze his fingers twice, he replies with the same gesture. "I don't know what I'd do without you."
"Then it's a good thing you don't have to find out," you smile and as you yawn again, Charles pulls you closer to him. Like a magnet, you slide across the bed towards him, unable to resist as your face finds its place against the crook of his neck.
He lets go of your hand, but only to wrap his arm around you. His hand rests on the bare skin of your hip, while his other hand pulls your leg over him so that you're half lying on top of him. You are enveloped by him, fully and completely, and as you place your hand on his bare chest, you feel his heartbeat under your fingertips.
You try to convince yourself that it's not beating for you, but as you snuggle even closer to him and your lips touch the soft skin on his neck, you feel it skip a beat. But maybe you're just imagining it.
"I'll be better from now on," he whispers and tentatively presses a kiss to your forehead. Goosebumps spread all over your body, but not because you're cold like he thinks, which is why his arm presses you even tighter against him. "I don't want there to be another moment when you doubt how important you are to me, mon amour."
"You can teach me a little French," you reply. "Then you can hide less from me if I speak your mother tongue too," you joke.
Charles feels your smile on his neck and he is glad that you can't see the blush on his face.
"Anything you want. I'll go to the other side of the world for you if I have to."
"But not until tomorrow, all right?" You gently caress his chest with your fingertips and Charles draws in a sharp breath. "Now it's time to sleep. And don't you dare steal my blanket in the night."
Charles would love to pull you on top of him, kiss you and promise you that you're safe with him and that he won't let anything happen to you. But he holds back, just lets his fingers dance over your skin.
He promises in the purple morning light. "Deal."
next part
#charles leclerc#charles leclerc smut#charles leclerc prompt#charles leclerc blurb#charles leclerc imagine#charles leclerc fanfic#charles leclerc one shot#charles leclerc x yn#charles leclerc f1#charles leclerc cute#charles leclerc fluff#charles leclerc x reader#f1#f1 blurb#f1 smut#f1 x reader#carlos sainz jr#lando norris#charles leclerc series#charles leclerc angst#charles leclerc x reader smut
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after the storm
ellie eilliams x reader
part 1
Summary: ellie starts to panic when she can’t find you after a fight.
It was the loud bangs that woke Ellie up. She looked at the window; it was sunny outside. When did she fall asleep? Then she remembered. You were leaving hurt. And she didn't follow you, so she could give you some space. She tripped, going to the door, wanting to apologize as fast as she could.
What she didn't expect was Dina and Jesse behind it. Her surprised face made both of us more confused.
"What are you still doing here?" Jesse looked behind her, like something was missing.
"I fell asleep last night." She then grabbed her bag and the shotgun and closed the cabin.
"Whoa, whoa, where is y/n?"
Ellie frowned. "I thought she came back home before it was dark. Wasn't she the one to ask to come get me?"
Dina and Jesse shared a puzzled look. "We have been searching for you two for hours," Dina breathed. "We thought you were together."
Ellie's head started spinning. "No, no, she-uh, we had a fight last night. She got injured, and I got angry."
"You got angry because your girlfriend got injured?" At the same time Jesse said that, Dina put into voice what Ellie was afraid to hear. "So you haven't seen her since last night?"
"Well, when she needed a walk alone, it wasn't dark yet." Ellie breathed. "I just don't remember when I fell asleep."
The girl felt like she was going to throw up anytime. If you didn't come back to the cabin, and you didn't come back to Jackson, where were you?
"I need to talk to Joel."
Jesse, Dina, Tommy, Joel and Ellie started looking out for you. You couldn't physically have gone far with your injured leg. So why weren't you close to the cabin? What if someone got you? What if you were bitten? Ellie believed the guilt she started to feel was eating her alive. Joel noticed. He went to her side. "Kiddo, she is gonna be alright."
Ellie shivered. "You don't know that. Her wound was open; she lost so much blood..."
A shout was heard then. Tommy came running to them. "They found this." He handed the blood-stained shirt that was supposed to be covering your injury. "Is it hers?" Ellie nodded, catching some breath. "Where was this found?" "Right alongside the river." She didn't need more information. She went running near the river, trying to think where you could be.
It was then that she found a bloodied body dumped close to the river. She almost fell down the road, already crying at the thought of you being that corpse.
"No no no no! Ugh-No!" She shrieked. Ellie grabbed the lifeless body, looking at its face. She frowned when she saw it was a young woman who was infected.
"That fucker almost got me."
Elle turned, leaving the dead body behind. You were there. You were alive. Your back was supported on a tree, and you were also covered in blood. Not yours, though. Ellie ran towards you, hugging and keeping you close.
"I thought it was you, I thought you were gone, I-"
" Well, this time I was careful enough." You shrugged, making reference to what your girlfriend told you last night. Ellie looked at you, pouting. "I am so sorry for what I said yesterday. I know it's no excuse, but I was tired, you were hurt, and..." She let out a deep exhale.
"Just... don't say things like that again, please. I already know I'm clumsy. But I do try my best."
She kissed your frown. "I love you being clumsy because that makes me useful, you know." You smiled. "Come on, let's get back some so I can treat your wound properly."
You almost groaned at the thought. "I would love that."
#ellie williams#ellie williams x you#ellie williams angst#ellie williams x female reader#ellie williams fluff#ellie williams x reader#ellie williams tlou
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Yandere batfam with a sick reader?
Yes but sick reader who is still defiant because hello, they kidnapped you?????
Reader is just glaring at them with tired eyes and a red nose as they once again tuck her under the covers, Dick is highly worried as he frets over you like a mama hen because he did have a heart attack when he caught you standing in front of your open window, where "harsh" gusts of cold air were "attacking your fragile form", so of course, he had to drag you in and wrap his arms around you, rub his cheek against you because he NEEDS to warm you immediately, lest you die of hypothermia.
Yes, Dick overreacts. And yes, Damian will accompany his brother in his delusions, or well, take any chance he gets to scold you.
"You should be in bed, Y/n." Damian said sternly, his eyes narrowed because how dare you worry his favourite brother like this. "Didn't Dick tell you to rest? Are you that incapable of following simple commands?"
You narrowed your eyes back at him, opening your mouth to say something mean but got cut off by your own coughing fit, making Dick rush to help you drink some water, rubbing your back along it. Your throat felt scractchy, and it hurt to speak, but you still wanted to convey your feelings so-
You flipped him off. For a nano second, because Dick immediately grabbed your hand and tucked it back under the covers while Damian's eyes widened at you disrespect, but before he could make any more gremlin noises, but Bruce walked in and Damian knew better than to complain to him about you when youre already sick, cause Bruce wouldve still favoured you.
"Y/n? How do you feel now?" Bruce asked, his voice gentle as he walked closer to where Dick was throwing away your mountain of tissues.
"Im fine. I wanna go out-" "No." "And why not?" "Because youre sick." "You may be Batman, but youre not a doctor!" "I am your father though."
No, youre not. You wanted to say, but knew that would only piss him off and you need to be on his good side if you want Dick and the others to be off your back so that you can escape.
"Whats her temperature?" Bruce asked Dick, who put a thermometer in your mouth quickly. Dick sighed as he told Bruce how you were out of bed and standing in your balcony in the cold just moments ago.
Bruce placed a palm over your forehead, and you tried to move away but there wasnt really any space or energy for you to do that. Bruce's eyes shifted the slightest bit at your burning forehead. "Why do you insist on getting out of bed and sleeping on the floor? Ive already had to pick you up 3 times in the past 2 days."
You pulled out the thermometer and glared at him. "Im fine. Its just sniffles." Bruce's lip quirked a little. You looked absolutely adorable in your delirious state, like an angry kitten.
"I dont think its just sniffles this time. And-" Bruce pulled the thermometer from your hands that you were hiding under the covers. "-dont hide the thermometer from me." His eyes scanned it and the twitch in his brow was enough for Dick to know that the number was too high.
Bruce then eyed the cough syrup next to your side table- its still full.
"Why havent you been taking your medicine?"
"Im not sick-"
"White paint has more color than you do right now. So why havent you been taking the medicine?" Bruce asked and even though he was a little annoyed, he had enough practice dealing with the other kid's rebellious phases to have the patience of a saint.
You shrugged. "How do I know its just cough syrup and not a sedative?" "It is a sedative too. Its supposed to make you sleepy." "Well, I dont wanna sleep and let my guard down in a house full of 5 strange men." You obviously never counted Alfred- hes the only normal one here- except for the part that he wont call the cops for you, but oh well.
Bruce just casted a look to Dick and before you knew it, Dick was pinching your nostrils close and titling your head up while Bruce grabbed the syrup and poured some in your mouth before clamping his hand over it. You struggled to break free, but you were obviously no match to them. Still, tears of frustration pricked your eyes as you looked at them in betrayal and hatred.
"Drink this and dont argue with me, please." Bruce said- well, he genuinely requested at this point.
You didnt have much of a choice other than swallowing it.
With a defiant glare, you begin closing your eyes as your body gave into the effects of the drug, the last thing that you felt were Bruce kissing your forehead while Dick pecked your cheek.
Jason finally decides to drop by the Wayne manor, only to be greeted with the sight of reader lying on the kitchen floor. His heart stopped for a moment- you werent breathing-
"Y/n!" He rushed to your side, only to be smacked in the face by you.
"Shush. Dont be too loud." Your voice sounded like sandpaper against rocks.
Jason huffed. "Well, sorry for freaking out. I thought you were dead-"
"From a cough? Im not weak."
"Yeah? So, what exactly are you doing on the cold floor in the middle of the night?"
"..."
"Well?"
"What? So I cant even take a nap in this house? Jesus Christ, am I allowed to have any autonomy here?"
"Y/n." Jason called, clearly unamused by your sarcasm.
"Fine. I may have fallen and then didnt have the energy to get up, so im just catching my breath here."
"Why are you even out of bed?"
"I was hungry and Im not gonna drink another spoon of Alfred's bland soup again." Alfred made it bland on purpose so that your throat wouldnt be irritated.
"Please stop wasting whats left of your voice on complaints of the soup that you cant even taste." Jason chuckled as he picked you up, only for you to push at his chest weakly.
"I dont need your help. I can walk on my own."
Jason quirked a brow. "If you can make it to the front door without fainting or throwing up, I'll help you escape." You stared at the front door- it wasnt too far, but judging by the fact that its even hard for you to breathe properly and that youve fainted way too many times by just standing for more than a couple of minutes.
But youre stubborn. With great effort, you pushed yourself off Jason and used the kitchen island to pull yourself up. Jason decided to walk in front of you and stand near the kitchen exit because he really wanted to see your struggling face.
You took a trembling step, then another, one hand still using the support of the island until it ended and you were only a couple of feet away from Jason. At this point, you were already out of breath and when you took another step, your legs gave out and the room began spinning.
Luckily, Jason was quick to react. "Alright, just place your arm around mine- or just fall on me, that works too." He teased when you couldnt hold your body weight.
You slumped in his arms. "Just take me to my room." You huffed.
"Alright." Jason lifted your legs up and carried you back up the stairs. "You know you'd get better a lot faster if you just stayed in bed and took your medicine on time. Wouldnt that make your chances of escaping the manor better?"
You stared at him blankly. "Wow. The world must be ending for Jason Todd to be making logical suggestions."
Jason rolled his eyes as he tucked you in bed. "Im just saying, if you get better faster, you'll get to try running from us quicker too."
How do you explain to him that you just dont want to comply to them, even when they're helping you. How do you explain that you dont wanna listen to them because the soft pitiful, patronising look they get in their eyes when they look at you makes you wanna scream and carve your skin out. These are strangers, rich men who just kidnapped you to be a part of their family. No one is that kind. And nothing ever comes for free. Nothing.
"Do you need something? Food, perhaps?" Jason asked. You shook your head. "No, I think Im gonna throw up."
"Oh shit." Jason was hauling his ass out of the room t get you a bucket, only to return with a backpack.
You barely held your puke as you asked. "Wait- whose is this?"
"I dont know!? Damian's?!"
You grinned. "Oh, perfect." You proceeded to throw up into Damian's bag. That little shit just got on your nerves.
BONUS:
"I know you have attachment issues with your blanket but its been a couple of days now and you need to let me wash it." Dick said, trying to tug it out of your grip.
You sniffled and glared. "Im not a child who needs their blankie, Dick. Im just too cold without it and no other blanket can warm me up the same way it does."
"Give the blankie, Y/n." Dick said seriously.
"Its not a blankie." You retorted, but before you could react, Tim suddenly grabbed you while Dick ripped away the blanket. And even though he immediately replaces it with a clean blanket, you still let out a gut wrenching cry
"You'll have it back tomorrow-" Tim starts saying, only for you to sneeze directly in his face, making him freeze.
"And that's why we use tissues." Dick says, wiping both your nose and Tim's face with tissues, while you're not making any effort to suppress the grin that comes on your lips.
#yandere batfamily#yandere batfam x reader#yandere batfam#yandere bruce wayne#yandere jason todd x reader#yandere jason todd#yandere dick grayson#yandere damian wayne#yandere tim drake
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✿ ✿ 〞arguements with skz
✰ pairings : ot8!skz x gn!reader
✰ genre : angst
✰ warnings : heavy angst, mentions of toxic behavior in some, misunderstandings, failing to communicate
✰ word count : 2.7k + words
part 2
౨₊ৎ chan
"why are you so angry about all this?"
“you’re seriously asking me that?” his brows raised in disbelief as he spoke.
this what you two had been dealing with lately. unnecessary fights and constant bickering over anything. even today, a weekend, which chan called his ‘golden day’ , you two were yelling across the room.
“yes i am. and i’ll keep asking till you stop acting petty,” you looked him dead in the eye now. your faces were edging closer and closer to his, a defiant glare sparkling in your eyes. chan glared back, but he looked away as quickly, not being able to look at you when you two were fighting. he was used to the warm and admiring gazes, but not these sharp and angry stares. it made his stomach churn with the thought, what if you both got tired of fighting one day?
“if you’re not going to open your mouth no one will be sleeping tonight,” your voice snaps him back to reality, he silently stares at the floor with his head hung low.
“you know i hate him, don't you? i’ve told this story to you like a thousand times already and yet you still talked to him! do you think that’s fair?” he raised his voice and immediately regretted it. but there was no taking it back now. words can only be taken back in laptops or phones, not in real life.
“i just talked to him for barely even two minutes, chan! you’re being ridiculous at this point. do you think this is fair?” you cock your eyebrow at him, not hesitating to raise your voice as well since he walked down that path first.
“it doesn’t matter how long you talked, the point is you talked even after knowing our rough past. it’s almost like you don’t care about me or my feelings anymore! you’ve changed. you’ve become. . . selfish,” ouch. that had to hurt. and chan noticed the way your eyes instantly dulled. he licked his lower lip anxiously and watched as your frown deepened.
there were no further words uttered from your side which made him realise just how far he went, “babe. . . i- sorry,” the words were stuck in his throat and he could practically feel the tears building in his eyes as you took a shaky breath. he took a step closer and raised his hand to touch your face, but you avoided that and walked away.
maybe it was selfish indeed. or maybe not, he wished to not answer that as he sat on the couch and dragged a hand across his face filled with guilt. and as he stared at the hallway where you walked out, he could only hope to turn back the time and undo his mistake. but for now, he needed to wait. or fight for you.
౨₊ৎ minho
minho let out a frustrated groan when he felt the couch dip beside him. he threw a mere glance, before opening his laptop and typing something. it was unusual of him to act this frustrated and even when you tried to talk to him he glared in your way.
“i understand you’re having a bad day but it doesn’t mean that you can act however you want,” you muttered and scooted away from him before crossing your arms over your chest.
“then simply don’t understand,” he muttered nonchalantly and leaned closer to the laptop screen as he typed. this infuriated you even more.
“can you at least pretend to care? i’m not a statue sitting beside you!” his gaze shifted to you and he pressed his lips into a straight line.
“of course i will! should i even leave my job and tell my boss that my partner wanted to argue with me while i work?” sarcasm dropped all over his tone and it made you nauseous. you couldn’t believe your ears thay minho, lee minho was acting this way. he rolled his eyes and muttered a ‘thought so’ , upon seeing you go quiet and diverted his gaze back to the laptop in front of him.
“why do you have to make everything so difficult? why can’t you just talk like normal people do?” your gaze hardened and he could feel it. rolling his eyes, he switched his gaze back to you and saw you, a new you. your jaw was clenched harshly it was almost as if you were a ticking time bomb, just finding the right time and you could explode.
but minho was no less. the last thing he wanted was to submit his work after his deadline. and time was ticking as always. it doesn’t wait for him.
“the world doesn’t revolve around you! you need to know that. i have submissions to make and i can’t afford to lose my job when i’m this close to getting promoted,” with a final look he picked up his laptop and marched into your shared room. you poked your inner cheek with a tongue and wiped a lone tear that dripped on your cheek. this was going to be one hell of a night. and what hurt you even more is that he didn't even try.
౨₊ৎ changbin
changbin just unlocked the door to your shared apartment and quietly took off his shoes before slipping in the flip-flops. his heart dropped out it’s chest when he saw the date and time. it was two minutes past three. and he wasn’t surprised when the lights flicked on and there you stood, with an exhausted expression and wearing formals.
“shit. . . babe i’m so sorry-“
“you’re sorry?” your scoff definitely took him back. he stared at you nervously and felt his palms get clammy.
“if you’re sorry then you wouldn’t have forgotten our second anniversary! if you’re sorry then you wouldn’t have forgotten our booking! and if you’re really sorry then you would’ve at least called!” you yelled loudly and he could feel himself grow annoyed even though he was at fault.
“babe, i’ve had a tiring day and a bad headache. could you please not shout?” his soft tone took you by surprise but there was disappointment all over your face as he simply began to walk away.
“that’s it then? you’re just walking away like that? like a coward running away from his problems?” your throat felt dry when his head turned and his eyes met yours. his brows were furrowed in anger and he took a step towards you.
“me? a coward? if working my ass off means i’m a coward then maybe i am one. but i’m not running away from my problems. i’m simply solving them at the right times,” he muttered and gave you a tight smile.
“right time, huh? then why can’t you appear at the right times during our dates?” you replied, weakly. you were tired too. tired of his excuses, his empty promises, his apologies. they felt like nothing anymore. he had let you down too many times.
he opened his mouth to say something but closed it back again realising it could worsen the situation. with a soft sigh, he pressed his lips to your head and muttered a sorry before walking away.
maybe, the right time required you both to sit down and talk calmly.
hyunjin
“baby,” you hummed in response, making him continue, “i have a tour coming up so i’ll be gone for two months.”
the words slipped his mouth so easily as if he almost didn’t care. he came back home a week ago. out of which, he spent more than half of his time occupied at the company.
“you just came back!” the exasperation was visible in your tone and hyunjin bit his lip, feeling guilty. he cupped your face and said, “i’ll call you everyday, i promise.”
with a glare you shrugged his hands off and sat straighter to get your point clear, “if i wanted a boyfriend who can only call me why didn’t i just go for long distance?”
hyunjin’s expression changed. he ran a hand through his hair harshly, “i thought you knew what you were getting to when you started dating me.”
“yes i did! i still do. but that doesn’t change the fact that you have the upper hand in your life. which means you should be able to make some time for me?” it felt pathetic, to beg for his time. to sit there at home waiting for him. always. like the desperate being you were. and you began to even pity yourself.
“how long do i have to wait for you hyun? just how long?” and as the tears finally slipped through, hyunjin pulled you in a tight hug. he let you hit him. he let you curse him. and in the end he didn’t let you walk and slip away. but maybe, trying harder would be better. the thing that stung the most was time. time that he didn't have for you. time that he promised he would give, but never did. maybe it was time to take some right decisions for both of you.
౨₊ৎ han
you had been trying to get your boyfriend to talk to you for about 15 minutes now. it was a chore. it was exhausting. but you knew something was wrong and you weren't going to let him suffer alone.
“what’s your problem?” he snapped. annoyance written bold on his forehead as he stared at you, waiting for an answer.
“you’re too unusually quiet today,” you muttered under your breath but he managed to hear it.
it was one of those days where the two of you didn’t hold back.
“oh so now you decide whether i talk or not?” you sighed noticing him still look annoyed.
“don’t put words in my mouth jisung,” your eyes warned him, and he snapped himself out of it before covering his face with his hands.
“can you just go away for now?” he whispered and looked at you. he looked so . . . tired.
“is that a request or a warning?” your joke had no smiles, neither out of you nor him. he expectantly looked at you making you bitterly nod to yourself.
“always has to be me,” and even though it reached his ears he gave no expression, seemingly feel his head throb with thinking too much. he slammed his hands on the desk it made him feel better, maybe not much. but it did not fill the gap in his chest. and it hurt him to reach this point.
౨₊ৎ felix
“lix, i don’t think i can do this anymore,” you muttered and looked away knowing that one look at his face would have you running back in his arms. you had become that weak for him. that weak that you couldn’t resist him or his lies.
“what do you mean baby?” he looked so confused that you almost felt guilty, but then you remembered that he was just being innocent. as if he didn’t lie to you a hundred times. as if he didn’t cause you pain and misery almost everyday.
“i’m tired of you, lix. i’m also tired of us. how long are you going to make me suffer?” your tone caught him by surprise. he stared at you baffled, trying to find words to make you stop speaking like that anymore but he chose to remain quiet when he saw that look of sadness take up on your expression.
“i know we fight a lot babe but i swear i love you,” he held your hands in his hands and pressed a tender kiss while looking at you.
there it was. those words he uttered again, just like always. he would hurt you and then later on he would sweet talk you. and you had grown extremely tired of it.
shrugging his hands off you took a step back, “that’s it felix! if you try to manipulate me once more i’m breaking up with you!”
his brows furrowed in confusion. he didn’t know what you were playing at, but he wasn’t going to back off after being told those words.
“manipulate? i’m simply trying to remain calm! but looks like all my efforts are going in vain,” hurt spread all across his face as he said it. maybe you overthinking it, or maybe not. but one thing was clear, you both hurt each other in ways you didn’t know.
“you always do this! make promises you can’t keep and then talk me out of it,” and even though you stood firm with your decision, you weren’t a fool to not notice the way his shoulders slumped down, and his mouth turn downwards forming a frown.
“what more do i have to do to make you believe that i a sincere about this, about us?” he let out an exasperated sigh after pointing between the two of you.
“just be honest and love me,” and as you uttered those words, your eyes met his and you could see the way it reflected deep sorrow and perhaps guilt? you couldn’t name it.
with a dejected nod, he grabbed his wallet, bag and phone before rushing out of the house.
“i’ll be staying over at chan’s,” he muttered giving you one final look, as if telling you to stop him. but you didn’t, you just nodded and looked away.
he felt all his hopes shatter down upon that one thing, all the things he dreamt of for future could be seen crumbling down and all he could do was let out a shaky breath with his hand trembling all the while as he drove away.
౨₊ৎ seungmin
“where were you?” he practically shouted, startling you.
“i told you i was out with some friends,” you replied, trying to be the calm one.
“some friends? or a special friend?” his tone felt poisonous. it felt unfamiliar on his tongue to speak in this way but he tried not to look too fazed.
“what is that supposed to mean?” you replied pointedly, totally forgetting about remaining calm and stared at him.
“you know exactly what i mean,” his voice lowered down for a second and so did the anger in his gaze, but he held contact wanting you to know it was serious.
“i’ve called you like a million times and i was worried sick because you didn’t tell me where you went!”
“i can take care of myself, seungmin.”
“sure you can, but i don’t trust the other men,” he sighed and his eyes finally softened.
“good night,” he mumbled and walked away, leaving you standing all alone. things were getting better for worse? or for better?
౨₊ৎ jeongin
“stop shouting,’’ he said. It almost made you scoff when he was the one who started it.
“babe it wasn’t funny you know that?’’ you muttered, dejected but he just looked away not having any words to speak.
“i understand they are your friends but you can’t just go and tell them about my problems like that!’’ jeongin let out a deep sigh and looked at you.
“i thought maybe they could help in a way. they’re like my family.’’
“still. you could’ve at least asked me before telling them, you’re basically feeding off every bit of my secrets and i’m even scared to tell you anything now,’’ now that sounded ridiculous to him. you could trust him, and he wanted you to know that.
“you’re clearly overreacting. i just told them why you were feeling off,’’ he ran a hand through his hair growing frustrated that you both didn’t understand each other.
“you gave them the entire speech jeongin. don’t you dare lie to my face!’’ that was the high point. the two of you looked at each other with an abnormally furious gaze. and it made you realise just how long would it take for this to end?
“i’m not lying! Why don’t you understand me? i was just trying to make you feel better!’’
“if you wanted to make me feel better then you could’ve talked to me! and not them!’’
a minute of silence was all that was heard before you took your cue to speak, “am i dating you or am i dating them?’’ the tears came as quickly as they fell. you had grabbed your coat and bag, heading for the door. you didn't think anything else could hurt you. but you were wrong.
what hurt the most was that he didn't stop you.
#ॱଳ͘#k labels#stray kids x reader#straykids reactions#skz angst#straykids angst#seungmin x reader#bang chan x reader#changbin x reader#minho x reader#hyunjin x reader#felix x reader#jeongin x reader#han x reader#skz imagines#skz scenarios
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best friend!simon riley picking you up from a bad date —
words: 2.2k rating: nothing explicit apart from a brief mention of sex, just some light angst and comfort. my blog is 18+ so minors please dni. warning: hurt/comfort, fluff, pet names, insecurity/doubt/worry, mentions of sex, simon is the softie we all know he is notes: originally written for @ghosts-cyphera ♡ we all need a bestfriend!simon in our lives who's so sweet and gentle with us.
One thing you love about Simon — besides everything — is how reliable he is. Strong, steadfast, there when you need him. Even when he’s not physically there — his work taking him away for weeks or even months at a time — you find yourself reading over the messages he’s sent, the little sticky notes he’s left, whatever memento you’ve kept of him tucked away in the drawer in your bedside table.
Not that you’ll tell him that.
You hate asking him for favors — asking anyone for favors, really, but him especially. Whenever you ask someone for help, it's always accompanied by a long-suffering sigh or a roll of the eyes or some very clear indication that they'd rather do anything else.
Except for Simon.
Which is why you're hesitant to ask him more than you absolutely need to. You don't want to push your luck too far, less he eventually tires of you as well.
Losing people hurts, always assuming it's you that caused the problem. You've come to accept this, even if the dark feelings of being too much or a burden claw at the edges of your mind.
But losing Simon? You don't think you'd ever get over that.
It's just after 9pm, the sky dark and clouds threatening, with thunder rumbling steadily in the sky. Your hand shakes as you fumble your phone from your pocket, trying to hold tears at bay as you scroll through your contacts.
Your call log is all Simon.
Some appointments here and there, but Simon everywhere else.
Fuck.
You hiccup, the tears spilling from your eyes as the sky finally opens up, joining you in your mourning.
You don't have any other choice, really, so you click his number before you can talk yourself out of it and walk home instead, bringing it up to your ear as it rings.
He answers before the third ring.
"I'm so sorry to bother you," you sniffle into the phone, before he has a chance to say anything. You take in a sharp breath, blood turning to ice. "Am i bothering you?" you sound so meek and small and tired. “No, dove, you’re not,” comes his calm, reassuring voice. You’re only half-convinced.
"I'm sorry," you begin again. Your heart falls to your stomach, convincing yourself that this is his final straw. You're overtaken by a wave of nausea, despite not having eaten anything since lunch. "I didn't know who else to call, and I lost my tram pass, and I don't have an umbrella, and — "
“Dove,” he says, his accent soothing to your ears — he's so endlessly patient and kind. You ache.
"I can just walk home, I-I'm sorry," you whimper out, unable to stop the tears blurring your vision, feeling pathetic and weak and so, so alone. “Darling,” he says, a little stern. Not angry, never angry. Trying to focus you. “What’s wrong?”
“U-um, my date stood me up,” you sniff, swallowing hard. "I waited an hour," you mumble, looking to your shoes. "Messaged him too, y'know. He just. Didn't show."
You think you hear Simon curse over the line and your heart lurches, feeling like you're about to be sick. “Where are you?”
There's a rustle of fabric, the clink of keys, the heel of his boot walking across his floor. You manage to tell him the name of the restaurant, voice cracking. “Twenty minutes,” he says, and you’re about to protest but he beats you to it. “Sit there and be good and patient and I’ll pick you up, yeah?”
"Okay," you whisper in agreement, before the line clicks dead and you allow yourself to cry, huddling under the awning as some protection from the rain, now coming down in thick, sharp waves.
Thirteen minutes later, the headlights of his truck shine through the dark, pulling up to the curb. You make a mad dash for the passenger door, still getting drenched in the process.
You can't even look at him, hands shaking as you buckle the belt, trying to make yourself as small as possible.
He says your name gently. You take in a shuddering breath and let it out just as shaky, looking over towards him. He's wearing his balaclava, but his eyes — even in the dark, you can make out his beautiful eyes. Assessing you, worrying.
"I'm sorry," you croak out. You can't help it. It's burned into your tongue, driven into your mind to make him understand you didn't want to bother him. He doesn't have to forgive you, but as long as he knows, that's enough.
"Love," he says, and there's... something in his voice, as he reaches over for your hand, holding it gently in his own. His eyes never leave yours. "'m never gonna be mad about you askin' for help." Your eyes flit away, but he squeezes your hand and you reluctantly look back. "You know me better than that," he says, as if he can read the treacherous thoughts swirling in your head, drowning you and making it hard to breathe.
You can only nod, not trusting your voice at the moment. He hums, bringing the back of your hand up to graze his covered lips over the back, pulling out to drive you back.
"This is your flat," you say, fifteen minutes later as he shuts the car off. You were too busy looking at the window, watching the rain drops race down the glass, to notice that he wasn't driving the familiar route to your place.
"Yes," he replies, as if it's obvious he'd bring you here. "You really think I'd let you stay home alone?"
His eyes are so fucking bright. It startles you, and you hate how your heart twists and thumps at how intently he's looking.
"I..." you start, chewing on your bottom lip for a moment. His eyes flicker to your lips, snapping away just as quick. "I was gonna eat ice cream and drink shitty, cheap wine," you say.
"As if I don't have either of those things here," he replies, opening the door and effectively ending the conversation. You scramble after him, eager to be inside in the warmth and burrow yourself into his couch.
"Go get changed," he says, voice clear as he removes the balaclava and bends to untie his shoes.
You hesitate for a second, until he looks up to you and there's that something lingering in his gaze — the same something that was in his voice.
"Go on now," he repeats, softer, and you ditch your shoes and your uncomfortably wet jacket by his.
His flat is as familiar as your own — you could walk through it blindfolded at night and you wouldn't knock into a single thing.
Well.
You might knock into a corner or two, but that's not a vision thing. It's a you're a bit clumsy thing. Simon finds it endlessly amusing, poking at the bruises that blossom on your skin while you bat his hand away.
His bedroom is familiar as well. Which is why you don't think twice before you're shimmying out of your clothes — undergarments as well — and rifling through his drawers, finding your favorite shirt of his and a pair of his boxers.
You take a moment to smell the collar, taking comfort in the scent that lingers. You’ve been dressed in his clothes many times before this but it feels different this time.
As you pad back out to the living room, Simon’s already on the couch. Your favorite blanket is draped across his lap, two bowls of ice cream and a bottle of cheap wine sitting open, glasses filled far more than you would’ve. You’ll indulge him, mostly because you have the sneaking suspicion that he’ll have you sleep here anyways.
His balaclava is off. The last dregs of tension drain from you as he looks over to you, face soft in the lowlight of the lamp, tv ready with a show you’ve watched a thousand times that he watches with you without complaint.
“Knew you’d choose that one,” he says with a bit of a smirk as you crawl on the couch, burrowing yourself into his side, his arm slinging across the back of the cushion.
“Am I that predictable?” you mumble, a small thank you as he hands you a bowl.
He doesn’t answer, but you feel the burn of his stare before he snorts, flicking the tv to start playing, the familiar theme relaxing you further.
The silence with him is comfortable, lingering in a hazy in-between of awake and sleep, empty bowls and mostly empty glasses sitting on the coffee table.
“Were you going to fuck him?” he asks, three episodes in, bottle empty.
You blink, not sure if you heard him properly as you pull back to look at him. You can’t read his eyes. Something hot twists in your gut.
“I-I don’t know, Simon,” you start, the weight of his stare heavy. “Maybe?”
He doesn’t say anything and you chew your lip for a moment, fingers curling to play with the blanket. “Depends how the date went, I suppose. Doesn’t matter much now,” you snort. His gaze hasn’t changed. “Why?”
His jaw clicks, taking a deep breath. “You deserve better ‘n that.”
A confused frown pulls at your mouth, unsure how to reply. “I know how to be safe,” you tell him, voice soft.
He seems to be weighing his words in his head, lowering the volume of the show. You feel sick.
Dark eyes rove over your face, taking in every minute detail. You bite at your nail, just for something to do.
“Don’t think there’s a bloke in the world that’s worthy of ya.”
Your frown deepens, breaking your eyes from his, twisting your fingers in your lap. Relationships aren’t easy. Being that vulnerable with someone isn’t easy.
You never want someone to pay for you, and even the smallest gestures like opening the car door or pulling out your chair feel like it’s too much. You don’t deserve that kind of attention. After a while, they’ll get tired. You’ll become a burden to them like everything else in your life.
It’s easier to be by yourself. The only person you have to worry about bothering is you.
“Love.” He tilts his head, eyes trying to catch yours. How hasn’t he gotten tired of you yet?
A hand under your chin forces your gaze up, and you try to shrink yourself against the back of the couch. Your voice catches in your throat, words stuck there.
“What’s goin’ on in tha’ pretty head f’yours?”
You swallow thickly, finding it damn near impossible to keep your eyes on his.
“‘s not like it matters,” you start. his brows furrow, but he stays silent. “No one would want me anyways.”
“‘n why would you say that?”
Frustration burns the back of your throat. Isn’t it obvious? You can barely call him in a dire situation without thinking the worst of yourself. How can he think of you as anything but a nuisance? How could he think anyone else would put up with it?
“You wouldn’t understand,” you say, defeated. You crumble back into the couch.
“Make me understand.”
Heat flashes at the nape of your neck. He takes your hands in his, cradling them in his warmth. Your name sounds so soft in his voice.
“How aren’t you tired of me?” comes your whispered question, nose tingling and eyes threatening to water. You look at him. Hesitant. Scared.
The silence is loud. His own frown deepens. It takes a few painful minutes, but you see the moment something clicks in place.
“You know I’d do anything for you, yeah?”
Your lip quivers, sniffling as you beg yourself not to cry.
“Because you do the same for me,” he continues. You doubt it, mind going blank of every time he’s come to you for something.
His touch moves to your elbow, tugging you forward gently until he can arrange you in his lap. He slips his hands beneath the hem of his shirt, thumbs rubbing on your hips just above the waistband of his boxers.
You slowly brace your hands on his shoulders. Firm and broad and safe.
“You apologize so much. You worry so much.” the tears slip down your cheeks, throat aching, but now you can’t look away from him. One hand moves to cup the nape of your neck, thumb rubbing gently at the skin behind your ear.
“You’re allowed to ask for help.”
You shake your head, a no caught in your throat, tears blurring your vision.
“Oh, love.” He cradles you into the curve of his neck, arm wrapping around your waist and keeping a gentle hold at the base of your skull. “You have me wrapped around your finger ‘n you don’t even know it.”
He lets you cry into his neck, dampening the collar of his shirt. His cologne is soothing and you eventually slump against him. You’re so tired.
His lips graze your temple, his soft touch lulling you to sleep. You’ll talk about it tomorrow, but for now you want to stay wrapped up in his arms, held by someone who genuinely loves you.
#ink by bambi#simon riley#simon ghost riley#simon riley/reader#simon riley/you#simon riley x reader#simon riley x you#simon riley hurt/comfort#simon riley fluff#ghost fluff#ghost imagine#modern warfare imagine
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𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐆𝐫𝐚𝐩𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐞: Part 2
Part 1,
𐙚 Emperor Geta x Fem Reader! 𐙚 18+
Summary: You are the daughter of General Marcus Acacius. After gaining your fathers blessing to join in at the palace, you run into a familiar face.
Warnings/contains: dom fem, f4m, teasing, pinning, size kink, praise, idealization, obsession, not proof read
Word Count: 2.5k
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“[Y/n], I would like to speak with you.” Your mother knocked upon the open door of your bedroom. You sighed aloud, taking off your jewels from the day. She moved behind you in the mirror, undoing your bun and undoing your small braids. “I will not ask why you are restless. I want to apologize to you. I know that…we *may* be more protective of you than-“
“I would call it absurd. This is absurd.” You turned to her, “I may not shop on my own! I may not take a walk by myself. Even as we speak, mother, a man watches!” You point to the guard that stood by your bedroom door. “I seem to never leave this place!”
“I know you are angry, but this is for the best!” You squinted with annoyance, throwing yourself onto your bed. “You are a beautiful young woman, [Y/n]! Moreover, you are our daughter! There are people who will want to hurt you.”
“I am aware of your worries, mother, but It is hard to believe the people of Rome know of my name, let alone what I look like!” You rolled over onto your back. Your father, General Marcus Acacius, now leaned on the post of your bed near your mother. “Now, I love you both dearly, but your words do not match your actions and I am tired of being left here to wait and rot! I am not one of your statues, Mother.” You stood in front of them now, your arms folded, and a crossed expression rid your gorgeous face.
To your surprise, your mothers’ hands clasped, and she sadly smiled. Her eyes welled, “Ahh, I am sorry. Y- you are just- you have grown so much.”
You tried not to fold under the pressure. It seemed whenever she got emotional, you found it hard to stand your ground. “Yes, yes, I have. And I want the freedoms of a woman. You say you want me to marry but the only men I have seen in the past few years were your guests, these brute guards and men of the Senate.” You said straightforward, avoiding your mother’s gaze, instead, looking into your father’s eyes.
The man sighed, holding his face in his hands. “What is it that you want?” He asked, officially surrendering to you. In that moment, you wondered if you had done this before on your 19th or 20th birthday.
“I want to follow you, Father.”
“Me? W- no! You cannot. It is too dangerous! Far too dangerous!”
You crossed your arms again and glared at him. “I barely see you as is! You will not let me join your army! You will not let me even speak in public! I want to be called your daughter. I want to follow you!”
Your Mother looked at her husband. She knew you had a point. You had a good reason to be emotional. “I do not know, Lucilla. This is dangerous.” She said nothing.
“That is all I want.” You said softer, close to your parents. “…for now.” Your father sighed.
“I will speak to you again in the morning.” He rubbed his forehead before leaving the room.
You balled your fists, looking away from the door, “Honey.” Your mother took your hand into hers, “It will be ok.”
“Does he hate me?”
“No. No, he could never. He is just tired. Do not stay up too late, ok? I love you.” She let go of your warm palm.
“I love you too.” You said as she left your bedroom. “Will you watch me change as well?!” You asked the guard who bowed his head and quickly left the bedroom.
The next morning, you were awakened by a servant with a tray of dyes for your makeup, with sage and frankincense for your perfume; separated into small bowls. “My Lady?”
“What is this?” You asked, moving the sheets from your body.
“Your father would like you to get dressed. I will do your hair today.” You tilted your head for a moment, rubbing your eyes. Another servant brought in a dress from your mother’s wardrobe from her youth.
“He said yes!?” You jumped from bed and dashed down the hall. The two servants continued to prepare you for your day as you pushed open your parents’ bedroom door. “Oh! Thank you! Thank you!” Your arms wrapped around your father’s waist. He kissed the top of your head.
“You should dress. We leave soon.”
*
Outside the home, you were helped onto your horse. “We will take the main streets.” Your father spoke, “Be sure to stay close to me. It can get crowded very quickly.” You nodded as the two of you, and a few guards who followed, entered the city. The last time you were here, you were being scolded. However, that was two weeks ago, and you never went this far in.
Your eyes flickered around at the stores and market. Children chased each other and women gathered water from fountains. Along side streets, men gambled and shouted. Inside of a cheap jewelry store, a mother bargained. Upon seeing your fathers face, people gathered around the horses, slowing down the group. “Keep your horse forward, [Y/n].” Your father spoke over the crowd. The city was rather overstimulating, and that was obvious. These people were obnoxious in your eyes. To you, this was just your father. Sure, he’s a decorated general, but this was the man that taught you math, dressed you in the mornings, learned how to braid your hair, collected flowers with you, and laid beside you when you fell ill. He was a man. Not a god. “[Y/n]?”
“Where are we even headed?” You asked as guards cleared the way for you and your father.
“To the palace.” He directed to the northeast of the path.
“The palace? Why?”
“I have business with the emperors.” You smirked. Something you adored was snooping. What a place to do so! “After, we can go wherever you please.”
“Sounds like a plan, Father.” Emperor. You hadn’t heard that title in a while. It had been weeks since that clown of a man called himself one to you. You remember that day like it was yesterday. That arrogant, short man. Just the thought him nearly made you laugh aloud. There was no way he would ever be emperor. That scrawny excuse of a man?
When you and your father arrived at the palace, he helped you off your horse; he held your palm, leading you up the steps.
A short man with his arms open greeted your father. Something about his face looked familiar, however, you had never seen him before; for sure. “Acacius! Haha! Hello, my friend!” Your father bowed to him, and you followed suit. “Ahh,” He held his own hands, admiring the face of the young woman standing beside his general. “And who might you be?”
“This is my daughter, [Y/n].”
“Ahh!” The man yelped with excitement. It was then you noticed the small animal on his shoulder. What is that? You wondered. “She is quite beautiful…mhh.” His eyes fell on your curves.
“Should we speak inside, Caracalla? And find your brother?” Your father asked, interrupting the thoughts of the emperor.
“Yes!”
He led the two of you inside, moving rather awkward without his brother. You looked at your father. “There is two, yes?” You whispered. He nodded.
You stayed outside the room as your father spoke to Caracalla. You leaned against the wall, listening in as they planned on a map. It was mostly your father speaking, and Caracalla feeding his monkey while nodding.
In the hall, the sound of loud shoes moving across the floor caught your attention. You looked over your shoulder. “Do not linger outside of there, servant.”
You frowned, turning your body to the sound of the familiar voice, “Do I look like a servant to you?” You asked, stepping closer, as did he. You face shone under the sunlight. The man stepped back and caught his breath.
“It is you! Yo-“
“Oh, shut up!” he gasped, “What are you even doing here?” You stepped closer and he moved back.
“I am an emperor! Of Rome!”
You laughed as he spoke with a nervous undertone. “Be honest, *you are* a servant, no?”
“I am the emperor! Are you ill?! Can you hear me?”
For a moment, you thought aloud, “But, isn’t the older brother supposed to be…bigger…” You circled around him like prey. He wondered if you had gotten taller since your last encounter. “…more commanding? This is rather disappointing…”
“I have had it with you. What is your business here?! Hm? Who even let you in?!”
You push him into a room across the hall. “Shut up. My father is right in that room!”
“Acacius! General Acacius!” You pulled him with you behind the door and covered his mouth, your other hand on the front of his throat.
“Say another word and I will snap your neck.” You said into his hair. “I guess you are the emperor…but that means little to me. For if my father finds out what you did in that garden, he will have your head.”
“Ahg! I did nothing. It was you!”
“Ha! You stained my dress, tiny! Even so, you speak if he’d believe your word over mine.” It was true, he most likely would not believe the emperor. You had your way with words. You had your way with threats. “Now, what to do with you…” He bit your hand before dashing from the room. You chased him down the hall and stopped him in his tracks. He gulped, looking up at you. “And where are you going?”
“Y- you cannot intimidate me! Not in my own palace!” You leaned down and held him by his chin. “T- these guards! They will stop you!”
“You are mistaken. They do not work for you. They work for my father.” The man gulped before wiping sweat from his brow. “I can do whatever I want with you. We can keep playing chase, sure.” You step out of the way, and he ran down into the field of grass, surrounded by fruit trees and such. You laughed at him, chasing him into the field before cornering him and pinning him to the grass.
“This will not work on me! Very soon, your father will catch you!”
“Oh really?” Your knee pressed between his crotch, pushing on his balls.
“Y- yes.” A feathered moan left his lips. “I- I want you t- to let go! Let go, I say!” You let go of his hands, however, he does not move.
“It seems you like this.” Your finger found its way on the wet tip of his penis, coated in precum.
“I d- do, no, I-” He said rather softly. “A- n- you are a bully! A rude woman! No man will ever have you!” You continued to tease and rub his tip, making it hard for him to speak.
“Is that so?” He bit his lip and looked down at the mess he made on your fingertips. “Look in my eyes, you pervert.”
“I am not a pervert.”
“You are a pervert.” You lean down into his ear, gently kissing and suckling on the skin. “Only a pervert likes getting bullied by a woman in broad daylight. Only a pervert likes having his body exposed in an open field…under a woman.” Your hair dangled in his face; your bosom pressed on his chest as he hyperventilates.
His eyes opened wide, and he rose from under you. “I will not entertain you any longer.”
“Come here…Geta, was it?”
“I-“ He stepped away from you once more.
“Geta.” You say, inching closer. “You are too small; you will never escape me.” He held his crotch, trying to stop his throbbing shaft from its movement. The emperor fixed his toga, only for his crown to fall off his head. He groaned, growing flustered. “Do I make you nervous or something…?” You twirled his laurel crown around your finger. You looked heavenly from his view. He felt as if he had come face-to-face with Venus herself. “This crown means nothing, you know? Do you even feel like an emperor when you wear it?” He did not reply but you knew the answer. As you moved closer, your purple dress held onto your hips and swayed with every step. You placed his crown on your head, “Do I look pretty?” You knew he would agree. You are stunning, how could *anyone* deny that? And with that gold crown over your head? It was hard to believe the gods did not hand deliver you to your parents. “I know what you are feeling…why so shy?”
“Leave me be, woman!”
“Come here, little boy.” You tilt your head, offering your palm, “I will make you feel better.”
“I- I am…the emperor…”
“Sure.”
“I wear the crown.”
“Fine, take it.” You tossed it back to him. For some reason, it seemed to lose its meaning. It did not feel as heavy as before. It felt cheap, pointless, useless. Was it really a symbol of the gods if a goddess denies it?
“Acacius…he will not be happy.”
“My Father will not know.” You giggled, twirling his hair.
“See?! I knew it! You are a deceiver!” The emperor took off his shoes and ran back into the palace before turning into the room where General Acacius and his brother leaned over the table. He caught his breath. You stood behind the man and caressed his side. He jumped, and whined, “S- she’s-“
“Oh! Emperor Geta.” Your father bowed to the man, and you did the same, smiling at him. “Good morning.”
He looked between you and your father; the resemblances were undeniable. You squinted at him as if daring him to say something to your father. Geta moved away from you. “…proceed with the meeting.” You went back to your place by the pillar, watching him from afar. He felt uncomfortable, hot under his collar. The general spoke of invasion plans to the north of India. Although you should have cared, your attention was set on the nervous mess in front of you.
The meeting carried on faster than you would have expected. The two emperors walked you both to the entrance, exchanging pleasantries. You lean towards Caracalla, and he happily kisses both of your cheeks. Towards Geta, he resentfully kisses your right cheek, “…I will see you again very soon…” You whisper.
He froze in shock, “No. No, you will not.” You smirked and he groaned, kissing your left cheek. “Stay away from me…”
“It was delightful meeting you, emperor Geta.” You spoke so condescendingly, he felt so small, like a peasant when in comparison to you. When you pulled away from him, and climbed on your horse, Geta adjusted his garments, his cock stayed hard throughout the morning. He had to admit that you were some form of a goddess; maybe it was your figure, or your personality, but something within him felt as if this connection had to be holy, divine. His hips ached, and his tip was wet with lust. He would never admit it to you, that would only boost your ego.
Part three
Part one on my Master list!
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