#i thought i was done with the anger. i want to be done with it. i want to stop grieving everything it's taken from me

[jinxyjinxer]

˗ˏˋ MEAN ˎˊ˗ torturing you is their hobby

⟢ characters : Ambessa Medarda, Sevika

⟢ warnings : fem!reader, wlw, mean!dom!characters (seperate), implied fingering, implied squirting, mommy kink, use of vibrator, passing out, strap-on, usage of whore, degrading, choking, strap gets referred to as dick

˗ˏˋ AMBESSA MEDARDA ˎˊ˗

"You didn't really think I'd be done with you after you only came once, now did you?", she snickered when she saw you flinch and try to inch away from her calloused fingers after pounding them into your core once again after having made you cum on her digits for the first time of the night.

"Oh, baby girl, don't fight against it. The more you try to get away, the more I just enjoy all of this even more. Be my good girl and let mommy take care of you", she mused, but her words fell onto deaf ears. One orgasm alone had you overstimulated like a dozen would, so naturally you took her large wrist into your much smaller palm, trying to push her hand away from your sensitive mounds.

Even when she told you to stop squirming so much, you didn't even consider letting her have her way for even a second. Everything was too much, your body and sheets were already a mess soaked with your squirt and sweat, you didn't think you could take another orgasm again.

"That's it. You want me to be mean? Then I'll be mean", she suddenly snapped from your antics, lifting you up effortlessly with her immense strength and placing you across her lap as she sat down on the edge of the bed. With one hand she held both of your wrists behind your back while the other one grabbed for something in a box under the bed — a vibrator.

Needless to say that for the next the gods know how long you've been held in this position, your clit getting stimulated by the vibrating toy, crying and begging for her to have mercy on you until you finally passed out from exhaustion. "At least you're compliant now."

˗ˏˋ SEVIKA ˎˊ˗

"Please, no! I'm so sorry Sevi-!", you tried to apologise to your girlfriend when you found yourself getting dragged into your shared room, getting put onto all fours, hands and legs soon tied together so you couldn't move at all before felling her slam the biggest strap on she could find into your unprepared cunt, making you cry out in a mix of pleasure and pain.

"You should have thought about disrespecting me before begging for my forgiveness", she grunted as she dragged the silicone toy out of your cunt only to thrust it into you again with a brutal, almost inhuman force, her anger with you evident in her voice as well as her movements as she continued penetrating the life out of you.

"Sevika please this, Sevika please that", she mocked you, imitating your voice as she did so. "Just shut the fuck up and take your punishment like the fucking whore you are", she growled, and at the same time the tip of the toy hit your cervix brutally, making you scream her name for everyone in all of Zaun to hear.

One of her large hands loosened its grip to instead take a fist full of your hair between her fingers, pulling harshly on your scalp so you'd arch your back nicely for her to ravage you like an animal. Her other hand now found its way around your neck, at first only stroking your skin and making your breath hitch in anticipation before her fingers closed around your throat, restricting the air flowing into your lungs, your mind soon getting all foggy.

"You've got two options now. Either you pass out or you'll cream around this dick like the fucking whore you are. Only once you've come for me, I am willing to maybe forgive you", she whispered into your ear, the sensation of the strap penetrating your deepest insides and her hand choking you mixed with her voice in your ear making you come on the spot.

[multific]

Between Doubt and Secrets

Emperor Geta x Reader

Summary: When Geta and Caracalla left to attend to their duties as Emperors, you stayed behind due to sickness. Geta returns he notices just how distant you are, a week passed and he thinks he knows the reason behind your coldness. 

The sound of his boots on the stone floor echoes in the quiet of the palace, each step bringing him closer to you. 

After what feels like an eternity, Geta is done with his daily duties. 

Normally, that would be a relief, a reason to smile.

But tonight, the air between you feels different. It’s heavy with a secret you’ve carried alone for far too long.

You stay by the window, watching the fading light of the setting sun. You were nervous. 

The day is ending.

The news of your child you have known for over three weeks now. The doctor confirmed your suspicion and your heart sank. 

A child wasn’t part of your plan. At least not now.

In truth, it’s thrown everything into chaos. 

But now Geta is back, and the tension in the room is thick.

When he steps into the room, his presence fills the space. 

His eyes immediately find you, but there’s something different about his look tonight. 

It’s not the warmth you’ve grown to know, not the loving look he only gives to you. 

No, tonight his eyes are sharp, suspicious. His brow furrows just slightly as he approaches.

“Where have you been today?” he asks, his voice even, too calm for the question. He was angry.

In the morning he did ask to see you, but you failed to.

For a moment, you stop. 

You weren’t expecting interrogation, weren’t prepared for it. His eyes are searching, like he already knows something.

“I was... outside. Just needed some air.”

He doesn’t immediately respond, but you can see the suspicion in his eyes.

It doesn’t take much for him to read you, to notice when something’s off. To know when you lie.

And for the last week he has been home, something has been off.

“You’ve been distant,” he says after a long pause. “Too distant. I’ve been gone for weeks, and it feels like you’ve shut me out.”

His words cut deep, though you know he doesn’t mean to hurt you. 

He doesn’t understand. 

He hasn’t seen the turmoil you’ve been living with, the fear that’s kept you awake at night.

“I’m not... I’m not shutting you out,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper. “It’s just... a lot has happened while you were gone.”

He steps closer, his eyes narrowing. 

“What kind of ‘a lot,’ exactly? Have you been seeing someone else while I’ve been gone?”

The accusation hits you like cold water. 

It’s not anger that fills his voice but hurt. 

The kind of hurt that makes your stomach swirl. 

You want to tell him that it’s not like that, that there’s no one else. But the truth is so much more complicated. And far more frightening.

“Geta, no,” you say, your voice trembling. “There’s no one else. I’ve been alone while you were gone. It’s just... I’ve been trying to figure things out.”

He watches you for a long moment, and you see the doubt still in his eyes. 

You know he’s not convinced. 

But you don’t know how to explain the truth. 

How could you tell him that you’re carrying his child when you haven’t even come to terms with it yourself?

How could you tell him that you have been inside all day trying to figure out how to finally tell him?

Especially when he specifically told you he is not ready for a child. Only the senators demand such a thing. And he doesn't want to give into their needs.

He had enough to care for already, the Empires, his brother and now this.

For a long moment, the room is silent. You tried to collect your thoughts as you played with the hem of your dress.

You and Geta loved each other. Your love was known far and wide for its fire.

Then, finally, you collect yourself. You took a deep breath and realized, you needed to say it.

“Geta... there’s something I must tell you.”

His eyes shoot up to yours, but he doesn’t interrupt, doesn’t say a word. He just waits, watching you closely, as if bracing himself for whatever you’re about to say. He prepared for the worst, he is scared you are about to break his heart.

“I’m pregnant,” you finally say. The weight now lifting from your shoulders but it fills the room instead.

The silence that follows is thicker than the air.  Almost makes in impossible to breathe.

His expression shifts from one of anger to one of pure confusion. 

He was a smart man, he probably connected the events already.

“Pregnant?” he repeats, voice low. “But... how? Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

“I didn’t know how to tell you,” you whisper, your hands trembling as you spoke. “I wasn’t sure what to think, and... I didn’t want to disappoint you.”

“Disappoint me?” he shakes his head. “I... I don’t understand. I thought you were... I thought you were pulling away from me, that you found someone.”

“How can I find anyone Geta? I love you so much. I just didn’t know how to tell you. I didn’t expect this. I didn’t plan for it. And what you said about the senators... I was scared.”

He falls silent, staring at you for a long time, as if frozen in time. He realised it was all his fault. That day, he spoke out of anger, he didn't realise just how much pressure that put on you.

In reality, he always wanted a child with you, just on your own terms.

After a moment, he steps closer, his hands trembling as they reach out to you.

“Are you truly pregnant?”

You nod, and a single tear slips down your cheek. The weight that’s been crushing you lifts just a little.

Then, without warning, Geta pulls you into his arms. 

It’s a sudden and tight hug as if he’s afraid to let go of you. 

His embrace is tight, warm, and for the first time in what feels like forever, you allow yourself to believe that everything will be okay.

“I thought I’d lost you,” he murmurs against your hair, his voice thick with emotion. “I thought... you didn’t want me anymore.”

You pull back slightly to look at him, searching his eyes, you offer him a warm smile. 

“I do want you. I just... I was scared. This wasn’t how I imagined it would happen.”

He brushes a hand over your stomach gently. 

“You’re carrying our child, the future of Rome.” he says softly, the disbelief still evident in his voice.

“I am,” you reply, your voice catching in your throat.

His hand rests on your stomach, his fingers warm and protective. "I'm not leaving your side again. And what I said about the senators... I don't care for them. I care for you, I love you. I will protect you and our child. I promise."

For the first time in weeks, you allow yourself to breathe. 

“We’ll be okay,” you whisper, more to yourself than to him, but he hears it.

Geta presses a soft kiss to your lips, pulling you close again. His voice and heart beat fill you with hope. 

“I promise.” he whispered again. 

And you knew Geta always kept his promise.

Suddenly, your baby felt like a blessing. The future of Rome and you.

Gladiator II Collection

Taglist: 

@castellandiangelo @imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl @manduse @jacalineiscomingforyou

@mandoloriancookie @deliciousfestsalad @lilliumrorum @asgards-princess-of-mischief  

@fallout-girl219 @dracaryxzs @snowtargaryen @brevlada24

@mel-vaz @akamitrani @ange-olras @nicholaschavezslut69

~Masterlist~

ˇAO3ˇ

/YOU DO NOT HAVE PERMISSION TO TRANSLATE, TO STEAL OR TO REPOST ANY OF MY WORKS TO THIS OR OTHER PLATFORMS/

[becauseimswagman1]

Temporary

Roman Reigns x reader

Warnings: THAT NASTY 18+ SO MDNI, spanking, usage of "good girl". dirty talk, mild masturbation, daddy kink, unprotected sex (WRAP IT BEFORE YOU TAP IT!), cum swallowing, pussy eating

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

“Listen, that woman at the gym doesn’t mean anything! She’s just a trainer.” he pleaded with you as you tried to escape his arms.

“Joe, we’re done!”, you pushed out of his hold and walked towards the bedroom you two shared. Every time you put clothes in your suitcase, he took them right back out. He doesn’t want you to leave.

The woman at the gym really is just a trainer, she just overstepped her boundaries even after he told her he had a girlfriend. You’re one of the best things that ever happened to him ever since he got seriously hurt two years ago. 

“How can we be done? You’re not even hearing me out!” he grabbed you by your hands and kissed both of them, “I love you, and only you. You’re the woman I want to marry and the woman I want to be the mother of my children. Baby, please. Don’t leave. We can work this out.”

“Joe…” You wanted to believe his words so badly and you did, but there was something in the back of your mind that wouldn’t let you lean into it fully, “I need a break. You let that bitch into your space, close enough to put her lips on you.”

Joe couldn’t hold back the scowl on his face as he dropped your hands, “A break.” he scoffed, “Okay. Take your break, take all the time you need actually. Just promise me that this isn’t the end of us.” Cupping your face in his large hands and staring into your eyes, “Promise me.”

You made the mistake of letting a tear fall, he wiped it away just as quickly though. He was always there to wipe your tears, but this time you needed to dry them on your own. 

“This isn’t the end. I can’t tell you when I’ll be back, but I will.” you finished packing some of your things, and then you left. 

This was something you two could work through. You saw the entire thing with miss girl at the gym, pushing up on your man. You weren’t gonna break things off with him. The problem was with the reaction Joe had. You don’t know if he was in shock and couldn’t believe she did it or what, but him not immediately pushing her off and giving her the cursing of a lifetime pissed you off. He didn’t kiss her back, but seeing with your own eyes that he just let it happen made you wanna fight something. She had been lucky you were feeling classy. So, you needed space. Just enough to figure yourself out. 

----------TWO WEEKS LATER -------

The break had gone on longer than either of you expected. Thankfully the media hadn’t caught onto the way the two of you were never seen together. 

The first week of the break was full of Joe texting you nonstop, ensuring you were safe. The second week, you started worrying as you got a call from Josh telling you that he had started to miss sessions at the gym and snap at him and the other wrestlers for trying to talk to him. You knew Joe wouldn’t miss a session and even snap at them out of actual anger, so you decided to check in on him. 

When you got to the house you shared, Joe’s car wasn’t there so you let yourself in. There were empty bottles thrown everywhere and the picture frame of y’all’s first anniversary was broken. You felt that he would be sad, but not like this. And you knew this sadness would turn into anger soon enough because you knew he felt like he couldn’t talk to you or anyone about this.

You had thought over the situation and it truly wasn’t enough to ruin an amazing relationship. You were ready to come back and really talk things out and get back to how things were and be better. 

As you were attempting to pick up the bottles while avoiding the small amounts of glass, you got an alert on your phone. It was one of Joe’s friends posting about how “The Tribal Chief” would be in the club tonight. If that’s how he wanted to play then you’d do it too, but of course, better. 

Later that night, you called up your girls and told them what happened. They agreed with your plan to show up at the club and get your man back. It was nine-thirty when you showed up and nine-thirty-one when he noticed you in one of his favorite dresses. The short strapless one that practically left nothing to imagination if you leaned over slightly. It looked like you weren’t checking for him, but you clocked him, and the bitches he had flocking on him like some birds. 

You and your friends got a booth and ordered bottles. The night was honestly going great, you kept your eyes on Joe and vice versa. You were getting ready to walk over to him so you two could leave together until one of them chickenheads started dancing on him and he wasn’t trying to push her away. 

“Two could play that game, Joe.” you thought as you went over to a group of guys and asked the cutest one to dance. Short-haired guys weren’t your type, but it’s not like you were trying to take him home.

Joe saw y’all but he wasn’t worried. You know where home is and so does he, but he’s petty so he was letting the girls dance on him. He knew you were putting on a facade when dancing on this random dude. He also knew once the guy overstepped your boundaries, you’d go off on him. He learned that the hard way, sometimes his jaw still hurt with how hard you punched him the first night y’all met. 

The song that played was coming to an end, he knew you never danced to more than one song at a time. Something about you always wearing heels that looked cute but not cute enough to wear for a prolonged period of time. He saw you turn away from the guy and bid him goodbye, but the guy held your arm. The guy wasn’t getting the hint. Joe wasn’t going to step in, he knew you could handle yourself so he let it play out a little. 

This guy wasn’t letting up, he was gripping your arm and pulling you close to him despite your protest. You were getting upset and ready to put him on his ass until he pulled you so close that he kissed your neck. Joe was over there in an instant.

“Yo, let go of my woman!” he quickly got between you and him, standing up straight to make himself appear bigger, “I know she asked you to let her go, so why didn’t you? Thinking you was gone dance your way into not just some pussy but her pussy. Bruh, back up. That shit belongs to me.”

The guy sucked his teeth, “She ain’t even worth it. Just some random bitch to me. And her pussy belong to you? Seems like it belongs to everybody that wants some. Look at how she dressed. How you let your “woman” walk out the house dressed like a h-” the guy was cut off by Joe knocking his ass out. 

“Let’s go.” was all he spoke before walking towards the exit. You quickly followed behind him after grabbing your purse from the table where your friends watched everything go down.

The car ride home was silent. This was the anger you knew was coming after the sadness. You just didn’t know it would’ve been brought on like this. Joe wasn’t the violent type outside the ring, so to see him put his hands on someone really shocked you. As soon as you two entered the house, you were pushed against the door and kissed like somebody’s life depended on it. To Joe, it was his. 

He pulled away and said words you weren’t expecting, “I’m sorry.” 

You were expecting him to completely fix this with sex since that’s how you two fixed problems in the past, but this was a different type of problem.

You put a hand on his cheek, “It’s okay baby.” It was okay, you had sort of moved on. Sure, you still wished he had reacted differently but he was your baby. You missed him. 

“No, I’m sorry. I should’ve pushed her off. I was surprised that she got the idea that she could do that, especially after I told her about you. That doesn’t excuse what happened, though. If it makes you feel any better, the guy that owns the place fired that girl for unprofessionalism.”

That did make you feel better and you tried to hold it in, but damn did it feel good, “Oh hell yeah! I know that’s right.”

Joe moved his hands from your face down to your waist, “Now hold on, I’m the one that asked him to fire her.”

“Yeahhh,” you put your hands around his neck and leaned up to his face, “but he took action when you should’ve.”

“So that’s how you’re gonna play it?”, he picked you up and put you over his shoulder, “Now I’m gonna fuck you up for two things.”

“Wha�� Joe? What the hell?!” 

“Fucking you up for letting that guy at the club get that close to you. You put me on my ass upon first meet so why was it so hard to do that with him? And I’m fucking you up for discrediting me on getting that girl fired.”

Was the second one petty? Hell yeah, but this is Joe you’re dealing with. The petty king.

He carries you to the bedroom, smacking your ass whenever you pinched his, and tossed you on the bed. 

“Get in position.” 

You knew what that meant, so you quickly got on your hands and knees. He pulled your dress up and saw the thong you had on. He bit his lip, “Damn baby, you must’ve known you was gonna get some tonight huh?”

“No, it’s just the only panties I could wear with this dress.”

He smirked, “Liar. Now count like the good girl I know you are.”

A loud smack echoed in the room, “One.” you had whispered it and that wasn’t good enough for him. 

“Louder or I fuck you until I get off and I leave you here begging.”

“One!” 

“That’s better. Now keep that up. Ten more should do just fine right?”

“Yes.”

He slaps your ass again, coming down on your right cheek, harder than the first.

‘Two!” 

Only two smacks in and he could see a wet spot form on the small fabric covering your pussy, “My baby getting wet already? From two smacks at that. I’ve seen and felt you get wetter for less so this isn’t that much of a shock.”

Nine painfully arousing smacks later, your ass was deep red and you were soaking through your panties. He ripped your panties off and rubbed through your wetness, “So wet for me.”

You nodded your head and arched your back just as you knew he liked it. 

“Play with it. Get it creamy for me.”

You did as told, truly playing with yourself. Slapping your clit, dipping your fingers inside your hole then sucking the juices off, really giving him a show. He let you do what you wished until he saw the signs that you were going to come. 

He slapped your ass once more to stop you, “Take your fingers out.” Once you did, he sucked the juices off. “Mm, you taste so good, baby.”

“Are you gonna fuck me now?”

“In a bit. Be patient.” He bent down to taste you right from the source, drowning himself in how wet you were. Flicking your clit with his tongue, drawing the lewdest sounds from you. He started to fuck you with his tongue while rubbing your clit with his thumb, “Come for me, baby. Be a good girl and come. Daddy wants to taste you even more.”

Your thighs started shaking and it was getting tougher to hold yourself up, “Ooh fuck! Joe! I’m coming!” and just like the feeling was gone, he had edged you because of a careless mistake. 

“What’s my name? Say it again for me?” he said while rubbing your clit with a little more pressure. 

“D-Daddy!” 

“Mhm, that’s right.” He pinched your clit a little and went back to rubbing it, applying the same pressure he was before. “Baby girl wants to be good right? Be good and let it all out.”

You started to grind against his fingers like it almost wasn’t enough. Joe knew what you needed, you just needed to come first so he could give it to you how you deserved. 

“Fuckkkk,” you dragged out your words, “Don’t stop. Pleaseee, don’t stop.” 

He rubbed you a little faster and you came with “Daddy” never ceasing from your lips. 

“That’s a good girl,” he rubbed you softly until your thighs stopped shaking, “You ready for daddy now?”

“Mhm.” 

He sat up behind you and undressed, then pulled you back to the edge of the bed still on your hands and knees so you wouldn’t have anywhere to run.

Rubbing a hand in between your legs and rubbing the wetness he collected from your against his dick. “So fucking wet baby.” he pushed his tip in and you were already running from it. “Nah baby, I ain’t even all the way in yet. Stop all that running.”

He gripped your hips and pushed himself in fully. “Damn, you tight. I love this pussy baby. Don’t ever second guess that.” 

He started to move, slowly at first, but soon enough he was pounding into you. Showing you that you belonged to him and only him. 

“Oh, fuckkkk yes. Right there, Daddy!”

“Right there?” he started angling his hips to hit that spot, “I’m hitting that spot huh?”

“Mhmmm, yes. Harder please.”

He listened to you and went harder, but you reached back and tried to push him away. His strokes almost became too much. 

“Nah, baby don’t run from it. Take it like I know you can.” he rubbed the middle of your back, “Put that arch back. Take this dick.”

You started clenching around him, feeling your orgasm approach you suddenly, “Daddy... fuckk I’m gonna come!”

“Daddy’s right behind you. Come for me, baby.”

He didn’t stop fucking into you when you came, he just slowed down enough to give it to you deep.

“Fuck, keep squeezing me like that,” he pulled out and stroked himself at a fast pace, “come catch your prize.” He helped you flip over and he stood up on the bed to come on your face.

“Shit, open that mouth, wide baby.” He kept stroking until he came, most of it landing in your mouth. When you swallowed, you licked the remaining substance off his dick. 

He pulled you off by your hair, “Lemme see.”

You opened your mouth and stuck out your tongue, showing him that you swallowed and there was nothing left. 

“That’s a good girl,” he leaned down to kiss you, tongue and all, “Now let’s get cleaned up.” 

A relaxing bath later, you and Joe were lying in towels on the bed. You were ready to fall asleep, worn out after what felt like the fuck of your life. Joe had so much energy left. 

Sleepily, you moved into his arms, “How are you not dead tired right now?”

“It’ll pass. Just need to calm down a little. Still keyed up after tonight.”

“Okay. Well, I’m tired.” you yawned right after the words left your mouth. 

Joe chuckled, “I can tell. Go to sleep, I’ll be in dreamland with you shortly.”

All you could do was a little “mhm” before you fell asleep, surely going to dream about all the dirty things that’s gonna happen in the morning. Whenever Joe has this much energy when he falls asleep it’s gonna lead to a very good morning. 

“I love you, baby,” he whispered into your hair then kissed your forehead, “And I know you love me too.” 

He cuddled up to you and fell asleep.

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

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[bangtan-junkie]

Dissonance (Part 2) | JJK

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader (f)

Part 1, Part 2

Genre/Tags: coworker!JK, enemies to lovers, smutttttt, slow burn (ish?), ANGST

Word Count: 6799 words

Synopsis:

After being left alone and humiliated on the floor of a dirty bar bathroom by Jungkook, you had to pick yourself up off the ground (literally). You had to get even, embarrass him like he'd done to you. Maybe you were mean to him before, but you were about to become a nightmare to humble this man. Unfortunately for you, your anger was short sighted, while Jungkook's wasn't. So you never predicted how your plans might backfire on you...

Note:

it's finally fucking here omg. ik it's super late but i'm finally decently satisfied with this. i'm looking forward to writing part 3 bc that's where the tension finally breaks and y'all aren't even ready for the revenge y/n gets lol. i hope y'all enjoy this and it lives up to part 1! i'd love to know your thoughts, if you're still pissed with jk lol, and any suggestions or requests are always welcome! chatting with you guys is my fav part <3

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

Dread consumed your senses from the moment you woke up. The weekend had passed, but your chest still burned with rage at the thought of having to see Jungkook again. You hadn't even noticed the time go by over the last two days, too busy seething in your own anger. If you hated Jungkook before, you loathed him now. You forced composure as you got dressed for work. Jungkook already had the upper hand when he'd left you in the bar bathroom. He knew that you'd seen him with the girl afterwards too. You couldn't even think about whether he'd went home with her that night without being sick. After all that, the last thing you wanted was for him to think he had any kind of effect on you. You were going to go back to work with pride and confidence. At least you wanted to.

When you finally got to work, you made a beeline for your desk, pointedly not looking for Jungkook. As you settled in, one of your coworkers stopped by your desk.

"Oh hey Y/n, you feeling any better?" he asked. Your head whipped up, a gentle voice ripping you away from your resentful thoughts. You looked up at him in confusion, eyes settling on his red hair. "From Friday? You left early because you weren't feeling well?"

"Oh, right," you cleared your throat. Just then, you saw Jungkook's unmistakable figure from the corner of your eye. He was talking to someone but you could feel his eyes boring into you. Your blood began to boil but you forced yourself to stay calm. You refused to indulge him at all. "I'm feeling much better actually, thanks Jimin," you replied, shooting your coworker a sweet smile. Jimin was your acquaintance in the office; someone you could actually stand in that place. He was always kind and helpful which automatically made him better than 70% of the people there. Even though you hung out in the same circles, you never really became close friends. Probably because you were always more focused on how annoying Jungkook was whenever you were out. And you were doing it again. You made conversation to force any thoughts of him out of your mind.

"How does your hair seem more red every time I see you?" you asked with a light-hearted laugh.

"I can't be caught slacking. I put in a lot of work to keep this hair ya know," he smiled back at you.

"I still don't know how you got permission from the boss for that," you gestured to his hair. "I asked before and she shut me down so fast." Jimin laughed at the annoyed expression on your face, finding it endearing.

"I guess I'm just that charming," he shrugged, holding back a chuckle. You couldn't help but snicker. Jimin's jokes weren't that different from Jungkook's, but he wasn't obnoxious about it. Jungkook obviously believed his jokes and thought he was god's gift to the world, which made him insufferable. Jimin, on the other hand, didn't take his jokes too seriously and wasn't constantly flirting with anything that moved.

Jungkook, who was barely listening to the person talking to him, had heard your exchange with Jimin. He felt annoyance build in his chest. He knew that if he'd made the same joke, you would've been rolling your eyes and making fun of him. So why were you giggling when Jimin said it? He tried to distract himself by trying to focus on the conversation he was supposed to be having.

A quick chat with Jimin later, you turned back to your desk. You made the mistake of looking up and caught Jungkook's gaze. He looked at you, an indifferent look on his face. He wasn't sure what he was expecting; maybe you'd look away in embarrassment, maybe you'd glare at him angrily. But what he didn't expect was the cold, empty look you gave him - like you were looking right through him, like he wasn't even there. His brows furrowed for a quick second, even more annoyed now. You went right back to work.

That's how the next few days went by. Every time Jungkook was remotely in your vicinity, you'd look through him without ever acknowledging him. If he even tried to walk your way, you left the room immediately. At first, Jungkook thought you were just being childish. But when you regained your confidence after a few days, he knew that you weren't through with him just yet. If he thought your insults were bad before, the newfound loathing you had for him made things ten times worse. It started with you amplifying the spite in your voice when you insulted him for his work. You refused to speak with him directly either, so all the insults were being thrown indirectly and in front of your other coworkers. With every second this continued, Jungkook felt his patience running thin. But if you were stubborn, so was he. He kept up your little game by firing back with his usual sarcastic or flirty remarks. Internally, he was burning with fury, just like you wanted him to.

All the animosity and anger eventually came to its boiling point when you crossed the line for the last time. You had walked to your desk that morning to find that your boss had paired you and Jungkook on the next project. Your skin crawled at the idea of having to work with him over the next few weeks. Part of you wondered if Jungkook had something to do with this. Thinking about him getting your boss on board with making you his partner for this big project was only adding to the fire that was spreading through your body. You already hated the way your boss melted around him, but to think that he could manipulate her to this level? After spiraling for a few minutes, you forced yourself to take deep breaths. You had to remind yourself that you were jumping to conclusions and then convince yourself not to march over to Jungkook's desk and give him a piece of your mind. You tried to get back to work, but all you could think about were what reasonable excuses you could make to get out of this situation. The rest of your morning was spent racking your mind. With no luck, you decided to join your coworkers for lunch; hoping that it would give you a distraction.

Unluckily for you, Jungkook walked into the staff lunchroom soon after, only to find you and some of your other coworkers chatting around the coffee machine. Well, they were chatting and you were busy glaring him down from the second he stepped into the room. Your dark eyes peered at him over the rim of your mug as you sipped your coffee. You knew that there was no way in hell he was going to approach you to talk about this. The solution to your problem practically fell into your lap when you zoned back in to the conversation around you. If he really did get the boss to put you on the project with him, you'd make him regret that decision.

"I can't believe you got that huge project Y/n! You're so lucky," one of them said, playfully pouting.

"Talk about lucky," someone else chimed in, "You even get to work with Jungkook. But I guess that isn't so lucky for you." They laughed lightly, poking fun at you. Clearly they hadn't noticed that Jungkook was in the room, listening.

"Everyone here knows how much you hate him, even the boss. Really, what was she thinking pairing you guys up?" They continued to laugh at your misery. But you weren't annoyed. Instead, your mind lit up with the perfect way to get under Jungkook's skin in that moment. The second he saw the way your eyes lit up, he knew he was in for it. Jungkook prided himself on the fact that everyone liked him and thought highly of him. So what better way to get your revenge and get him to kick you off the project than to take that away from him?

"Yeah," you said skeptically, "She's never paired us up before." You continued to stare directly at Jungkook. Your coworkers looked at you with confusion and amusement.

"What changed this time?" Jimin's voice rang through the room as he walked in to join you. He'd already spotted Jungkook in the other corner of the room, and he saw the dark glint in your eyes. It was clear to him that you were up to something. So he helped you out by stirring the pot a little. Jungkook squinted his eyes at you, annoyed at seeing Jimin again and wondering where you were going with this.

"I think Jungkook really wanted this project," you answered. "And it's easy to get whatever you want when you're fucking the boss," you said, not breaking eye contact for a second. Gasps erupted across the circle as they all looked at you in disbelief. Jimin's brows raised and he scoffed, slightly taken aback that you were making that accusation. But you were more focused on Jungkook's reaction. The look on his face was beyond furious. His eyes darkened and you saw the tick in his jaw as he clenched it.

"Wait, you really think so?" one of them asked, everyone already engrossed in the gossip.

"He is a manwhore," you shrugged. Jimin stifled his laugh, not wanting to be too mean to Jungkook. You finally looked away from Jungkook and back at the group. "And he always gets the good projects. Boss doesn't favour anyone else like that." Your coworkers immediately started gossiping amongst themselves, making random connections because what you said made sense. Some of them already started getting riled up, thinking that their opportunities had been snatched by Jungkook through the boss. You obviously didn't know for sure whether Jungkook was sleeping with your boss or not. But you didn't have to. You just had to plant the idea and you knew your coworkers would jump to conclusions.

"You must be really pissed at him," Jimin whispered, leaning back against the counter. You felt Jungkook's eyes glaring daggers at you but you paid him no attention.

"I promise he had it coming," you whispered back, a devious smirk settling on your lips.

"Remind me to never get on your bad side," he chuckled. You just shot him a smirk. When you glanced back at Jungkook, you barely caught him walking out the door. You didn't know what you were expecting. Maybe you wanted him to lose his shit in front of everyone, or yank you out of the room with him. So the disappointment you felt only annoyed you more. By the time you finished your lunch and made your way back to your desk, you already began hearing whispers about Jungkook and your boss. For a moment, you wondered if this was crossing the line. Definitely. But so was getting you to blow him and ditching you in that bathroom. Now you're even. You couldn't help but smile, knowing that he must be seething about the rumours.

A couple hours later, you were being called to your boss' office to discuss the new project she'd assigned you and Jungkook. You reluctantly grabbed your things and made your way there. You couldn't keep in your scoff when you saw Jungkook already there, making your boss giggle about god knows what. Your boss cleared her throat as she noticed you in the doorway, peeling herself off her desk from how far she was leaning forward towards Jungkook. You fought the urge to roll your eyes. Way to be subtle.

"Y/n," she announced, "Come, sit down." You forced a smile as you sat down in the chair next to Jungkook. He didn't say anything to you, didn't even bother looking at you. Just being in his proximity was pissing you off, especially since he had nothing to say to you. Obviously he couldn't say anything in front of the boss, but you wanted to see that you'd made him just as angry as he'd made you. Maybe all this rage was clouding your mind and judgement...but who cares?

You pulled out your pen and began taking notes as she started talking about the project. Despite hating working with Jungkook, you weren't going to let that ruin your work on this project. You rolled your eyes when you saw that he wasn't taking notes at all. Of course. As your boss began wrapping up the conversation, you gathered your things again, getting up to leave.

"Listen you two," she started, her tone changing. You raised your brows and sat down, curious what she had to say. "I know you don't like working together, but this is an important project. So please, put your feelings aside and work on this together." You scoffed, forgetting to keep your composure. That's when Jungkook finally looked at you. His eyes were fiery but he looked vaguely amused that you had the courage to scoff at the boss. Your boss was also looking at you expectantly, waiting for an explanation. That was all you needed to decide that maybe you weren't even with him just yet.

"Sorry, but it's not about feelings. Our work ethics don't match. I'd rather work on this alone," you said, straightening your back as you felt like you were in the spotlight. Your boss didn't look too happy.

"This isn't a one person project Y/n," she pointed out.

"I know, but it would honestly be easier to do the work myself instead of having to chase him around, begging him to get anything done." The amusement quickly disappeared from Jungkook's face.

"Excuse me?" he finally spoke. You ignored him.

"Maybe we can switch him out for someone who's actually focused on their work instead of flirting," you boldly stated. Your boss scoffed in disbelief.

"What is your problem? Do you think I want to work with you?" Jungkook spat, just about done with your shit. He shifted in his chair to face you, one hand gripping the armrest hard enough to see the whites of his knuckles. Oh now he had something to say.

"You're lucky to be working on this with me. Or else this project would've gone to shit," you retorted with an equal amount of spite.

"There's a reason I'm on this project Y/n. Because I'm good at my job. So if you're letting your personal feelings affect your professionalism, you need to get a grip." His words stung but you refused to accept that there was some truth to them. He was giving you a taste of your own medicine; humiliating you in front of your boss like you were doing to him. All your self control and common sense went out the window when you felt that embarrassment.

"Yeah, that's why you're on this project," you said sarcastically, referring to the rumour you'd started a few short hours ago. You could practically see his nostrils flare as he willed himself to keep his mouth shut.

"You're out of line Y/n," your boss jumped in. She hadn't heard the rumours yet, but she could clearly see that Jungkook didn't like the implications of what you had said. "I don't care whether you two like each other or not. You will put aside...whatever this is...and work together on this, and that's final," she said firmly. Irritation coursed through you, seeing her take Jungkook's side yet again.

"Yes ma'am," you barely grit through your teeth. You'd be darned if you got fired over Jungkook. You quickly stood up and left, rushing to the file room for a moment to cool down. It was the only place you could get some silence - no one ever really stepped into the filing room because most of your work was stored digitally anyways. You pressed your back to one of the metal cabinets, sliding down to crouch as the door slowly shut. You took some deep breaths to calm down. If you went back out there now, you would rip someone's head off. How did Jungkook have the audacity to continue being a dick to you? You knew you'd without a doubt crossed the line back there, but despite that, you didn't feel even with him yet. After a few moments of dragging your mind away from these thoughts, you took one last deep breath and stood back up. You straightened your skirt and fixed your hair. Since you were already there, you decided to grab some files you needed for the project before going back out there. You turned around, pulling a drawer open and digging through the files before you found them. Just as you pulled them out, you heard the door open behind you. You already knew who it was, getting a waft of his cologne. Your heart already began beating faster, not knowing what to anticipate. There was a beat of silence as the door slowly shut.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" Jungkook grit through his teeth, trying to keep his voice down. You didn't bother turning around or replying to him. Any semblance of self control he had left snapped when you didn't even acknowledge him. With three quick strides, he was right behind you, pressing you face flat against the cabinets. He yanked one of your hands behind your back, making you drop your files. You yelped as his entire body caged you in, slight panic rising in your chest.

"You don't get to ignore me now," he snapped, voice low. "You haven't shut the fuck up for the last few days, don't start now." He yanked your arm down further so he could hold your wrist with one hand. You groaned at the ache, but decided against complaining about it. His anger was palpable; you could practically feel it seeping through your skin, igniting your own fury. In the shock of the moment, you'd almost forgotten that Jungkook wasn't the only one with reason to be upset. This was all a consequence of his insanely disrespectful behaviour, and he had the nerve to be mad at you now?

"What is it? What's got you so fucking riled up, hmm?" He sounded bewildered, gritting the words through his teeth. The more he pressed against you, the harder it got to ignore the heat building in you. An ugly satisfaction was creeping through you seeing the way you'd managed to get under his skin. This was what you wanted; to see that you'd affected him.

"Didn't get enough cock last time? That it?" he growled, bending down next to your ear. His words pierced right through you, as if he knew exactly which buttons to press.

"Fuck you," you spat before you could compose yourself. You strained in his hold, your arm coming up to elbow him in the ribs. To your dismay, Jungkook predicted your move and held you tighter, keeping you still.

"I thought it'd be enough to keep you satiated for at least a week. But you're just a cock hungry whore hm? " he taunted, his lips grazing your ear and sending an involuntary shiver down your spine. "I should've fucked your throat a little harder. Wouldn't be able to lie about me to everyone - including our boss - then, would you?" Despite the bitterness in his voice, your body reacted to his words. Your mind was scolding itself for the rush of arousal that coursed through you. How was he still affecting you like this?

You shook your head clear. No. He wasn't going to have his way this time.

"Lie? I haven't lied about anything," you replied with a snarky tone. Jungkook chuckled in disbelief. He quickly flipped you around so you were forced to face him. You didn't hesitate to meet his ravenous gaze with your own.

"No? So you really think I'm sleeping with the boss?" he asked, tone getting serious. You shrugged nonchalantly, annoying him more.

"You'll fuck anything that moves," you jabbed. "At least fucking the boss has some real benefits unlike the girl from the bar. Maybe she'd even give you a raise if you could satisfy her properly." Jungkook couldn't hide the disgust that flared across his features; insulted that you thought so little of him. The urge to shut you up was growing stronger by the second, burning through his insides. You were going to drive him insane.

"Watch yourself," he warned, the words coming out dark and gravelly. But the surge of excitement that you felt, knowing that you had managed to provoke him, was addicting. You wanted more.

"If it was anyone else, I'd be all for it. Get that bag, you know?" you said with indifference. "But you? I thought the boss had better taste. Her bar must be in hell." That was enough for Jungkook. Before you even had a second to process what was happening, one of his hands was wrapped around your neck. His fingers dug into the flesh, limiting your breath in the most delicious way.

"You didn't seem to think so when you were begging me to touch you - to fuck you in a dirty bar bathroom," he growled, stepping closer, face inches from yours.

"Yeah, obviously I expected too much," you sneered. "You don't know how to please anyone but yourself. Boss must be a real masochist to keep going back to you. Poor thing," you tutted, knowing you'd practically nailed the head in your own coffin before you'd even finished your thought. Jungkook's face contorted in a snarl as his grip tightened around your throat. You gasped, the dark swirl in your core intensifying.

"Maybe I should talk to her," you patronized, chasing the high from pissing him off. "I can recommend someone who can actually make her feel good - get her off. A man. Not a selfish boy," you emphasized. "Think she'll like me better than you after that?" With that, his other hand was pressed firmly against your mouth, effectively shutting you up. You grunted at the sheer pressure of his hold, now struggling to breathe.

"You just don't shut up, do you?" he spat. The look in his eyes was nearly feral; like he was going to eat you alive. His ego took a hit to your words, even though he knew you didn't actually believe everything you'd said. Still, you seemed to be stuck on his 'selfishness'. It infuriated him that you didn't understand why he wasn't giving you what you wanted, but he'd had enough of you running your mouth. If you'd forgotten how easily he made you melt under his touch, he'd just have to remind you. And make sure you never forgot again.

With each passing second of silent seething, you thought he might actually choke you out. But then he let go of you. You gasped for air, coughing as you caught your breath. Just as you were about to shoot him the dirtiest look you could muster, Jungkook sank to his knees. The snarky remark on your tongue vanished as you watched him kneel in front of you, looking up at you with a carnivorous gaze. Lust consumed your senses as he wordlessly loosened his tie, tugging at the collar of his shirt. You'd think that seeing him on his knees would make you feel more powerful in the situation. But the hunger in his eyes made it clear that he was still very much in control.

Simply put: Jungkook, in a suit and on his knees, was enough to wipe away your last bit of common sense.

"This is what you want, right?" he asked, his hands slipping under your skirt. You felt paralyzed, your breath caught in your throat. His hands moved up your thighs, slowly dragging your skirt up with them. "You wanna cum, yeah?" You were genuinely struggling to form any thoughts, your senses heightened.

"Want me to make you cum?" A strangled groan bubbled in your throat at his tone. He'd barely done a thing and your breathing was already heavy. So much for your resolve. As your skirt bunched above your hips, you suddenly became hyper aware of your situation. You were still at work, in a file room, door unlocked.

"Someone could walk in," you gasped, trying to convince yourself that you didn't want this. He ignored you, trailing his fingers down your hips and legs instead. "We've already been gone for a while. What if someone comes looking?" You desperately tried to focus your wandering mind.

"I guess I should hurry then," he sneered, shooting you a glare. Then his fingers were sliding between your legs, making you close your eyes and sigh as they eased the ache in your clit. By that point you were too far gone to even feel embarrassed about having soaked through your panties. Jungkook hissed as your slick coated his digits. "I put the bar in hell, but still, you get so wet for me," he snapped, adding more pressure. For the first time all day, you had nothing to quip back with. Your sweet silence was like music to his ears. Mindful of the time, Jungkook hooked his fingers in your underwear and pulled them down your legs. You knew there was no going back as you stepped out of them. Your knees felt weak as you watched him hastily shove them in his pocket. But before you could ask what he was planning on doing with them, he hooked a hand under your thigh, lifting your leg up and to the side. With your legs spread and your pussy staring him in the face, Jungkook was struggling to control himself. He wanted to tease you - make you beg and plead - but he didn't. Fuck. He couldn't; not when he felt like he'd lose his sanity if he didn't taste you right away.

Without wasting another second, his lips were pressed to you, the velvety heat of his mouth engulfing you as his tongue licked at your wetness. Your mouth was left agape as your hands buried into his hair, using the locks to keep yourself tethered. Jungkook groaned into your heat; he felt like he was getting drunk off of you. His fingers dug into your thighs as he hungrily lapped at your pussy. Your eyes rolled back and you let out a drawn out moan as his lips wrapped around your clit, creating the perfect amount of suction. You would've thought he was starved seeing the vigor with which he ate you out. He didn't stop, didn't pull away for a single breath - too consumed with the taste of you on his tongue. You were embarrassingly close already, struggling to contain your moans and whimpers. You bit your lip, trying to hold them in, but another particular harsh lick to your clit had you groaning Jungkook's name. Seeing you unravel so quickly only fueled Jungkook's appetite; the sound of his name on your lips going straight to his aching cock. All it took was him groaning into your cunt after that to send you over the edge. Your fingers yanked at his hair, desperately pulling him closer as you felt the white heat build up.

"Jungkook, fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck," you cursed, voice whiny as you tried to keep quiet. "Gonna cum," you moaned right as you crashed over the edge. Jungkook felt you tense in his hold as you came on his tongue. He diligently lapped at your slit, sure to pay attention to your clit as well to help you ride out your orgasm. He slowed down as you came down from your high. Naturally, your legs tried to close together once his tongue became overstimulating. But Jungkook's hold was firm, keeping your legs apart. You tried to catch your breath, mind reeling from the mix of pleasure and pain flooding your senses.

"Jungkook... wait," is all you managed to get out. He ignored you again, picking up his pace despite your cringing.

"So fucking good," he growled against you, like he hated admitting it to himself. It felt weird hearing him compliment you after all the bickering and degrading earlier. Yet you couldn't deny that it boosted your ego seeing him so fucked out and angry. He pushed you further up against the cabinets, giving himself better access to you and delving his tongue into your dripping hole. And just like that, the sensitivity was replaced with a delicious pleasure once again.

"Please, wait..." you breathlessly pleaded. In contrast to the last orgasm, he was building this one up slowly. Unfortunately for you, that meant it felt twice as intense and you were getting increasingly worried about being caught.

"Thought you wanted to cum, sweetheart," he mocked. "That's why you're being such a bitch, right? Mad that I didn't make you cum last time?" he grit through his teeth. You cursed him under your breath, but were more focused on the feeling of his soft lips against. You finally looked down at him properly, ready to glare at him. But the second you saw his dark eyes staring up at you, the rest of his face buried between your legs, you lost your train of thought entirely. Then you saw his hand sprawled across your lower stomach while his thumb rubbed circles into your clit. Fuck, why was he so hot?

"What if we get caught?" you half-heartedly complained, trying to muffle your whimpers.

"They'll see what a fucking slut you are for me then," he grunted. You slapped a hand over your mouth when he picked up his pace, continuing to plunge his tongue in and out of you. "Keep your hands down," he demanded, pressing harder on your clit. "You're gonna keep moaning like that for me," he hissed, delving right back into the heat of your cunt. In that moment, all you heard was his demanding tone and your hands instinctively went back to his hair without a second thought. You whined, trying to keep your voice down as he slowly built up your pleasure.

"Good," he praised, his words muffled as he continued to eat you out. "I should make you scream, so that everyone knows that you, Y/n, are cumming on my tongue." His words were bitter but they turned you on more. You clearly had some problems. It didn't take very long after that to feel that white heat building up again. Jungkook could tell you were almost there, so he sped up the pace of his fingers and plunged his tongue deeper into you. "Including our boss," he rasped. And then you were cumming again; gripping tightly onto his hair and groaning his name once more.

"There you go," he coaxed, letting you ride his face. You hadn't realized, but at some point, your hips had started moving on their own. Seeing you with your eyes screwed shut and mouth hanging open, as you unraveled under his touch, only fueled Jungkook's hunger. When you started coming down, he finally pulled away; giving you a second of reprieve. That was until you looked down to see his blown out, dark eyes staring at you. His mouth and chin were covered in your juices and he looked ravenous. He quickly pulled off his suit jacket, wiping his face with the sleeve of his shirt, eyes never leaving yours. Your chest heaved; partly because you were still catching your breath, and partly because of how fucking hot Jungkook looked in the moment. His hands went right back to your thighs, pulling them apart once more.

"Wait, what're you doing?!" you asked, eyes going wide. "I can't cum again, please," you nearly cried. His fingers dug into your thighs as he watched you plead.

"You can and you will," he said firmly. "You know why?" He slid his fingers between your folds, gathering all the wetness that had pooled. "Because you fucking love my touch," he growled. Your already weak knees felt even weaker.

"You're so desperate for it; for my mouth, my fingers, my cock." Your legs threatened to buckle under you if it weren't for Jungkook's hand holding you up. "So desperate that you're being such a fucking brat," he spat. "Trying to piss me off. So, what? So that I'd finally touch you again?" he mocked. Your senses were overwhelmed and his words settled in a pit in your stomach. You felt tears prick at the corners of your eyes; whether it was because of his harsh words or the overstimulation of his fingers, you weren't sure. Just as you were about to retort, Jungkook slipped a slender finger into you which slid in smoothly with how wet you were. He let out a throaty groan, quickly slipping another finger into you and curling them upwards. You nearly doubled over as he pressed right into your g-spot.

"See how tuned your body is to me? I've barely done a thing and you're already a mess," he taunted. Seeing how flimsy your legs had gotten, he quickly threw the leg he was holding over his shoulder, getting even closer to you. His name left your lips in a whine, your body torn between pleasure and worry. "Well here, I'm giving you what you want." He punctuated his words by curling his fingers again, making you moan. "You wanna cum? I'll make you cum...over and over again, so you never forget how good I make you feel." And with that, he finally pulled his fingers out before slamming them back into you, setting a hard pace.

Your mind was left blank, so consumed with pleasure that you couldn't even think about staying quiet. Whimpers and moans shamelessly tumbled out of you as he filled you up so delightfully. Jungkook wasn't unaffected either. Feeling how warm and wet you were was driving him up the wall, numbing his own thoughts.

"So wet for me, fuck. My cock would slide right into you with how drenched you are," he thought out loud. He felt you tighten around his fingers, making him snarl and pick up his pace. "Filthy fucking cockslut. I can't wait to feel you tighten around me like that when I'm fucking all this brattiness out of you," he growled, voice low. You could only moan in response.

"Jungkook, s-slow down, please," you begged, knowing that you wouldn't be able to hold on much longer. Before you knew it, his free hand came down on your pussy, leaving a delicious sting spreading through you. A half yelp-half moan sound came out of you, making Jungkook scoff.

"You're gonna take what I give you, like a good little slut," he grunted. "What do you have to say now Y/n?" he asked, annoyance lacing his voice. "You're so convinced I'm fucking every woman and leaving them unsatisfied. Do you feel satisfied yet?" With his fingers pumping you, grazing your g-spot with every thrust, it was nearly impossible for you to form a coherent thought. When you didn't answer, he gave your pussy another smack, making you hiss.

"Answer me," he demanded, "How do you feel now Y/n?"

"F-feel good," is all you could come up with. Jungkook chuckled at your fucked out state.

"Who's making you feel good sweetheart?"

"You," you moaned, feeling yourself reach your climax again. "Oh my god. Jungkook, please...don't stop. Feels so good, I'm gonna-"

Jungkook's ego inflated as you finally found your words again, saying exactly what he wanted to hear. Hearing you beg for him almost made up for all the shit you'd put him through that day. Almost. You were creaming on his fingers before you could even finish your sentence, moaning his name way louder than you should.

"Now you're finally being a good girl," he praised, continuing to pump his fingers through your orgasm. "Fuck, you're getting so tight. Keep cumming on my fingers like that, yeah?" he groaned, imagining how good you would feel on his cock. Your orgasm was so powerful, you were cumming for what felt like an eternity. Jungkook didn't mind; continuing to work you through it. When it was finally over, your legs gave out. Jungkook quickly caught you as you collapsed, and he placed you down on his discarded jacket on the floor. You closed your eyes and waited for your heart rate to go back to normal. When you opened your eyes after a few moments, Jungkook was still kneeling in front of you. His gaze was trained on your still exposed cunt and he had slipped his soaked fingers into his mouth, tasting you all over again. You worried for second that he still wasn't done with you. He slowly dragged his glazed over eyes to meet your. You gulped at the voracious look on his face, your legs instinctively closing.

Meanwhile, Jungkook was battling with his own insatiable thoughts. He knew he couldn't forget about this, about you, about your pussy after this. As infuriating and insufferable you were, he couldn't deny how good you tasted and felt. And he sure as hell couldn't deny how hard you'd gotten him either. With his hormones surging through him, all he could think about was being inside you, in any way. He saw the look on your face and nearly scoffed. You fucked up his reputation and humiliated him all because you wanted to cum, and now you couldn't take it. He took a deep breath, forcing his thoughts away so he could be rational.

"Don't worry, I'm not gonna make you cum again," he said. You scoffed, easing up a little with his reassurance. "You got what you wanted, right? Now maybe you'll keep your mouth shut." The high of your pleasure was wearing off and the weight of his words were hitting you. Did he really just think you were desperate for him? Had he forgotten how he was shamelessly flirting with that other girl right after leaving you in that bathroom? Reality finally caught up with you, and you realized how vulnerable you'd made yourself to him. If someone came in right now, the only person who'd be humiliated was you. Clearly, all of this was just a game to him; a way to shut you up. Jungkook was toying with you and you were letting him. A similar shame and hurt creeped across your skin as the night he'd left you in the bar bathroom. Part of you had started to feel bad about what you'd done earlier, but if Jungkook really was just using you, then you were still nowhere near even.

Without saying a word, you stood up, pulling your skirt back down. In the process, you remembered that he'd taken your underwear. But you'd have to talk to him to ask for them back, and the last thing you wanted to do was talk to him. You'd just have to clean up later and make it through the day without them. You straightened your clothes, trying to make them look as less wrinkly as possible, avoiding Jungkook's piercing gaze. When you finally felt like you looked presentable, that's when you looked at him. This time it was him that was left a mess. His hair was ruined by all the grabbing and pulling you'd done, and his collar was soaked with your juices. You looked at his jacket that you were not standing on, and sure enough, you'd left a wet spot and now heel marks on it too. It made you feel a little better, knowing that this time he'd have to fix himself up instead of you. You picked up his jacket with the toe of your shoe before kicking it over to him. You shot him a cold look.

"You're an asshole," you stated before walking out the door. Jungkook was left on the floor, even more frustrated. He'd felt more gratified after putting you in your place, but then what was that? You'd obviously enjoyed yourself, so what was the problem now? He groaned loudly. Despite his anger, the bulge in his pants was now aching. Everything about you was infuriating to him, so how did you have this much of an affect on him? His mind wandered back to how you felt in his hands and on his tongue. He growled as he palmed his crotch, slowly taking out his hard cock. He stroked himself harshly with the frustration you'd left him with. He quickly pulled out your panties from his pocket, unable to stop himself. His head rolled back and your name spilled past his lips along with low groans as he brought up the thin fabric to his face.

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Tag List: @myjungkookthighs @bemuas @junecat18 @exortedgoods @jahnaviii @jk97bam @itsmekylabear @blueberriesm @marvelbun @vantelover1306 @runariya @btstrology @diame93 @curse-of-art @minyoongi7016

[sincerelyriize]

cotton candy | p.wb

“so we just have sex to solve all our problems”

💿now playing: cotton candy by yungblud

❯ summary: Your boyfriend, Wonbin, is so fucking stubborn that he never knows when, how or why he should apologise. Good thing he’s good at hot, sweaty make-up sex though.

❯ pairings: wonbin x fem!reader

❯ genre: established relationship, angst, smut

❯ words: 1.3k

❯ tags: 18+ minors dni!, swearing, make-up sex, pretty arguing for like a second, wonbin is insufferably stubborn, mention of marking, unprotected sex, lowkey a toxic dynamic oops

an: this fic has absolutely nothing to do with cotton candy, or the song really lol, i was just inspired by this one lyric.

Park Wonbin is stubborn—but not as stubborn as you.

He never thought he’d meet someone who could rival him in that department, let alone end up dating them. It’s a mess, really. Maybe even toxic. Because while he loves every single part of you, when the two of you argue, it’s like fire meeting fire.

It gets nasty. Personal. Downright vicious. Honestly, your friends can’t figure out how you’ve lasted this long—especially since neither of you ever wants to be the first to back down. Apologising? Yeah, no.

Wonbin doesn’t apologise.

But this time, he really should.

It started the same, always does, over something petty like the dishes, or jealousy or when he works long hours and forgets to schedule you in but always seems to have time for the boys. That last one was oddly specific because it’s the exact reason you’ve been screaming at each other in his apartment for the past twenty minutes.

You’d jabbed at his chest with your finger and he’d swatted it away. The fury in his eyes lit aflame, and you weren’t sure you saw an end in sight.

But then he said it.

“If you don’t like it, you can leave.”

That was the end. Because stubborn might as well have been your middle name, and you were ready to make good on his threat—if only his apartment wasn’t so far from yours.

“Fine, I’ll be gone first thing in the morning.”

“Fine,” he spat.

Without another word, you turned on your heel and stormed off to the bedroom, your footsteps heavy with anger. You didn’t bother slamming the door—too cliché—but the sharp click of it shutting was enough to drive your point home.

You busied yourself with grabbing whatever you’d brought over—a spare set of clothes, your charger, a few toiletries—but the more you moved around the room, the more frustrated you became. Your hands shook as you stuffed items into your bag, biting the inside of your cheek to keep from yelling.

Yelling would give him too much satisfaction, and satisfaction was the last thing you wanted to give him right now.

You throw yourself onto the bed, glaring up at the ceiling. The covers feel cold, they always do when he’s not there to cuddle you asleep, not that you’d want that right now, you’d technically just broken up—maybe—ugh, you don’t know. He’s too complicated to work out.

Instead, you curl up on your side, the pillow barely softening the tension in your neck. And sleep doesn’t come easily—your mind replays every word, every jab, and that final, infuriating sentence: “If you don’t like it, you can leave.”

Asshole.

Hours pass, the silence of the apartment punctuated only by the occasional creak of the floorboards and the low hum of the city outside. Your phone screen glares at you from the nightstand, but you ignore it. You weren’t about to scroll through social media for comfort—not tonight.

The doorknob turns with a faint click, and the door opens just enough for him to slip inside. The soft rustle of his clothes and the weight of his footsteps tell you exactly who it is.

You don’t move. Don’t look. Just stay still, pretending to be asleep.

And then the bed dips—but it’s not like you can be mad—this is his house, his room, his bed.

Just…why did he have to be so goddamn stubborn? You’re not going to apologise. You’ve done nothing wrong.

And like you said, Wonbin doesn’t apologise either.

Well…not verbally, at least.

Because within minutes, the shift in the mattress goes from tentative to deliberate. His hand slides across your waist, pulling you flush against him, and before you can even protest, he’s pressing into you—pinning you to the bed, his actions saying everything his pride won’t.

Because when Wonbin knows he’s wrong, he’s bad with words. Instead his body moves against yours, wordlessly pleading for forgiveness the only way he knows how—telling you he regrets what he did.

This is the exact reason he doesn’t apologise. Why should he when he can just fuck you silly and make up?

It’s always from the back after you fight, and you’ve come to understand that it’s because Wonbin doesn’t want to look into your eyes and see any lingering hurt. He's not supposed to be the one that hurts you, he hates it actually.

His hands wrap around your wrists, smashing your palms against the mattress as his slender frame rubs against your back, allowing you to feel every inch of his hot, sweat-soaked skin as he thrusts.

His face finds his favourite place, buried in your nape, because there’s something so possessive about it; and he needs to mark it because he doesn’t want you to leave. He might have said it, yes, but he didn’t mean it. You have to know he didn't mean it.

Your nails dig into the sheets as he licks and sucks, leaving his signature purple love bites across your flesh. You practically mewel into the pillow you’re chewing on when he dips between your shoulder blades and marks there too.

He’s really drilling it home, and you can feel all of the passion and love he has for you poured into his fucking, but it’s almost not enough.

It’s too easy. He’s too easy to forgive considering he hasn’t muttered the word ‘sorry’ since you met him.

But as you turn around to try and even attempt to reprimand him, one look at the crimson tint on his pale complexion and the heavy lidded haze on his eyes has you clenching around his cock. And then the fucker had to go and whimper, the sound so faint and vunberable it was impossible to be mad at him.

“Binnie—” you moan, arching your back to give him a better angle, pushing yourself into his fervent rutting.

Your head rolls against your shoulders, tilting back, needing a better look of him. His unruly black hair damp and sticking to his own face, his lip chewed from biting down. He nuzzles close to your cheek, panting and grunting in your ear and it becomes your undoing.

“Baby, kiss me…” you plead with him for just a little taste, your lips parted, jaw hanging slack and your eyes dazed.

You can’t believe you’re the one begging him right now.

Instead of answering you, Wonbin only grunts and nests his face into your neck, where he kisses and sucks and nibbles on your pulse point as his hips slap against your ass in rapid, needy thrust. He keeps uttering your name, whining it in between his ragged breaths, squeezing both of your wrists until your fingers are tingling.

You can tell that he’s right on the edge, chasing his elusive high deep into your cunt, his sensitive tip twitching and throbbing as it daubs at your inner nerves. Your stomach knots up.

“Oh, fuck, Bin—!”

Wonbin wraps a gentle fist around your neck and guides your face back into the pillows, shushing you breathlessly as he does so. You know why— you’re so damn loud when he fucks you like this, and Wonbin is a jealous man. Your moans are his to hear—not his lousy neighbour who he has seen checking you out a couple of times.

That could start another argument on its own.

As you both settle, your body trembling with aftershocks and his twitching needily, you feel him pull out with a long, shaking moan. Your body reacts, missing the feel of him. You roll onto your back, panting whilst staring at the ceiling and he sits back on his knees.

You look at him and manage a small smile, though his face remains clouded with a frown. His eyes flicker to yours for a moment before darting away. You sigh, already knowing what this means—you’ll have to be the one to speak first.

“Baby, c’mere,” you say softly, opening your arms.

It’s all the invitation he needs. Without a word, he slides into your hold, his movements almost hesitant as he rests his head against your chest. He avoids your gaze, even as your fingers thread gently through his damp hair.

“It’s okay,” you murmur, your voice tender and low. “I forgive you. I love you.”

Maybe Park Wonbin was as stubborn as you.

[thisisntmyrightera]

Together - CHO HYUN-JU x Fem Reader Part 4

Summary: Reader is scammed and abandoned by her boyfriend, leaving her alone in South Korea to her fate, so in desperate search of a solution to return to her home country she decides to join the squid games to get money, within the game she meets a couple of people who become her friends and could possibly be something more.

Warning: Violence, homophobia mention of attempted rape and sexist language

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My eyes closed as I felt a push that made me fall and when the counter stopped, my hands could only go to my face in fear, no shot hit me and a hand touched my shoulder making me jump scared.

Calm down, are you safe - Dae-Ho spoke in a low voice making my hands go down slowly looking around - Did I hurt you? Sorry if I pushed you too hard

I'm fine - I looked at him barely with agitated breathing while Jung-Bae looked at me worried - thanks

You don't have to thank me, why did they leave you outside? I thought they were your friends - Dae-Ho helped me up pretending to be upset

They didn't kick me out, I gave my place to Geum-Ja, she deserved that place more than me - I looked at him sighing annoyed feeling the intention of his comments

You are very brave girl, I couldn't have done it - Jung-Bae looked at me touching his chest in a sign of concern - the good thing is that we were able to find you in time and you are here

As soon as I nodded I approached the small gap in the door, it was my chance to do it because I knew that Hyun-Ju would never let me do it if I was with her.

Standing on my toes to reach the little open space in the door, I could see how they picked up the bodies, one by one putting them in black boxes decorated with pink bows and they took them away piled up without caring.

The sound of the door ringing was my signal to run out of there, looking around at unfamiliar faces while hearing murmurs and laughter from those who were crazy, I walked through the people not caring if I pushed anyone until in the distance I could see Yong-Sik and Geum-Ja hugging each other, behind them Hyun-Ju standing looking at the floor while wiping her cheeks with the sleeves of her sweater.

HYUN-JU - I screamed with all the air left in my lungs making everyone turn their heads towards me as I ran splashing blood with my feet from every bloody puddle I crossed - Hyun-Ju!!

Her eyes widened, her legs buckled as she ran and she could barely hold herself up when I collided with her in a hug and her arms surrounded my body so tightly that it made my bones ache

Are you okay? Did they hurt you? - her hands took my face looking at me while I trembled - did they do something to you?

No, no I…I'm fine - I smiled at her taking her hand looking at her dark eyes

Don't do that again, you heard me? Never do something as stupid as that again, they could have killed you, I told you to stay by my side and I want you to always be there, understood? - her chest rose and fell breathing heavily while her lips trembled and her eyes mixed between fear and anger stared at me without letting go of my face

I understood..- I gave her a slight smile nodding

My little one��are you okay - Geum-Ja ran slowly hugging me tightly - you shouldn't have done that for an old woman like me, they could have hurt you

That doesn't matter, we're fine okay?..- I smiled taking her hand looking at the others- come on…we have to go to the platform

This time we walked carefully, as if slipping on the blood was the worst thing that could happen to us and ruined our green outfit.

This time don't separate from me, understood? - Hyun-Ju took my hand again standing next to me, this time interlacing her fingers with mine while I just nodded slowly looking at our hands nervously

The children's song started once again, the platform spun and I, like everyone else, looked around looking for the closest door to run to as soon as the game stopped

''2'' the speaker spoke making everyone run

Run, run! - Hyun-Ju pulled my arm almost tearing it off my body as she ran with giant steps compared to mine, pushing anyone in front of us until she reached a green door that she opened with such force that it seemed to rip it off the hinges and then made us enter leaning her back against the door to prevent anyone from opening it - we did it…

I just nodded tiredly, taking a breath as I leaned on my knees trying not to faint

Y/N..who helped you last round? - she looked at me curiously after a couple of minutes in complete silence

Dae-Ho and… Jung-Bae - I looked at her sitting on the floor - the truth is I still don't know how they did it, I just felt a push and when I opened my eyes I was inside

I'm sure it was Dae-Ho… - she looked at me smiling slightly and then looked at the floor and when she heard the door lock and the shots she quickly walked away sitting next to me hugging her knees

Do you forgive me for… leaving the room?.. - I looked at her timidly getting closer trying to see her face between the strands of her hair

I'm not upset… it's just that… I got scared okay? One second you were by my side and the next you ran away without saying anything…

I did it for Geum-Ja I…

I know you did it for her and that's very brave but how was I supposed to stay here without you? -she looked at me again with her eyes annoyed but full of something that I didn't want to confuse with love- if they killed you how was I supposed to stay in this damn place if they took away the only thing I have?

The.. only thing you have?..- I looked at her curiously while she lowered her head again hiding her face between locks of hair

Nothing… I didn't say anything…

Yes you said it.. what do you mean by that Hyun-Ju?.. what do you mean by…

that you are the only reason why my heart has found meaning to keep living… that I'm not supposed to feel this way because I know that you will never feel the same for me but I do and I feel selfish for that do you understand? - her tears ran slowly down her cheeks with her lip trembling

You're even more selfish by keeping those feelings to yourself…because then…I would have never known that you feel the same way I feel about you

No…don't say that just because I'm crying - she give a small laugh wiping her tears

Then stop crying and say it again…I like you Hyun-Ju and if that's wrong I think it's worse that we're doing this for money…don't you think? - I smiled at her trying to break the tension making her laugh again while wiping her face looking at me embarrassed with her cheeks slightly flushed

Me too…I like you…- she smile shaking her head looking at the floor- it's very stupid no? I went through all this transition to end up falling in love with a girl..

It's not stupid… if you feel that being a woman is what you are, I don't see anything wrong with you being happy, anyway we won't be the first girls to form a nice couple - I smiled at her taking her hand leaning on her arm closing my eyes feeling peace among so much chaos

When we go out, think twice before making the decision to go home, okay? - her cheek rested on my head sighing calmly

Only if you take me to see Thailand…

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So…if you're a girl…and she's a girl…you're…

Mom!…Shut up already - Yong-Sik looked at her sadly while Hyun-Ju and I laughed looking at the confused woman - that's not a question, it's disrespectful

It's just a question, you spoiled brat, don't you dare tell me to shut up, I'm your mother - Geum-Ja looked at him angrily hitting his arm making him fall on the mattress of his bed

We just like each other - I smiled at her crossing my legs on the mattress sitting next to Hyun-Ju

Yes but…how do you like her? She's not a woman yet, but she's not a man either…it's like in between, you know…what part of Hyun-Ju do you like? -The curious woman looked at me trying to figure out my head making me smile

Well…

Y/N..-Dae-Ho's voice made us look towards the stairs as he approached us rubbing his hands - Hello..everyone - the boy smiled embarrassed - I just came to ask if you were okay, it's just that after the last round I couldn't find you anymore..and I was curious..

I'm fine..thanks - I smiled barely, being kind for the act of having helped me

Well, I'm glad -he smiled looking at the floor without stopping rubbing his hands- if you're still a little hungry, we have some Gimbap if you want to come

She's fine - Hyun-Ju raised her voice making both of them look into each other's eyes

Yes, go back to your bed son, she's fine Hyun-Ju is taking good care of her girl -Geum-Ja smiled innocently making Dae-Ho clench his jaw nodding looking Hyun-Ju in the eyes before turning around and going back to his team

Mom…you don't know how to keep your mouth shut again - Yong-Sik sighed covering his face sighing annoyed

It wasn't long before we heard screams and commotion coming from the bathroom and after a while a song would play on the speakers followed by a voice

''These are the eliminated players, player 230, player 268, player 299, player 331 and player 401 eliminated''

What happened? - Geum-Ja looked at us without understanding as did everyone around who looked at each other

The bathroom doors opened, two soldiers entered followed by players covered in blood, some walking with difficulty, Nam-Gyu making a fuss while arguing between both teams making us all get out of our beds to do a count again

Hyun-Ju..-I looked at her with fear squeezing her arm- I don't have a good feeling

Me neither..but don't worry nothing bad is going to happen to you - she looked at me giving me a fake smile while we stood in the crowd of team X

Gi-Hun counted, over and over again making sure not to lose any player, in the end we had only lost 2 people and we were 1 ahead of team O and while he told us things about the previous game he also came up with a plan.

He talked about making a plan, defending ourselves because he knew that those from the other team would attack us and to get out unharmed we would have to hide under the beds, then when most of them were dead we would attack the soldiers taking their weapons and we would look for a way out.

His plan didn't make me feel more than that it was a suicide mission, how was it possible that we would overcome trained soldiers with loaded weapons, my mind only overthought and created catastrophic scenarios where we would all end up dead

Are you okay? - Hyun-Ju whispered in my ear bringing me out of the trance just making me nod - are you sure?

I don't think it's a good idea - I looked at her whispering without interrupting Gi-Hun and after a while and while the speaker announced that in 10 minutes the lights would go out each one decided to go to their bed, this time, we both decided to go to Hyun-Ju's bed that was lower than mine to make it easier for us to hide when the lights went out

Believe me, we'll be fine - She whispered taking my hand - you don't have to do anything, we'll just hide and when the guards come in I'll go with them for the weapons

Hyun-Ju… I don't need you to always protect me, just because I'm a woman you and them shouldn't take care of me from everything

They may do it because you're a woman, but I do it because you're my woman, right? - She looked at me making me feel those fireworks inside me again, it was the least appropriate moment and everything in my head sounded a thousand times more exaggerated than normal making me want to throw myself off the highest bed into the void

I… I have to confess something to you - I looked at her nervously sighing deeply - I… I grew up with two brothers, one of them is a soldier and they taught me how to shoot, maybe it's not the same compared to your experience but… if you need someone else I'll join you okay?

No… I won't let you go fight against soldiers, are you crazy? - She frowned again, a sign that she was getting upset

We went in together and we'll come out together, right? You said that I would never leave your side…

''Players, the lights will go out in 10..9..8..7..6…''

Hyun-Ju..-i sighed in fear, clenching her hand under the covers - If we don't survive tonight…

Stay calm, I promise… I… - it was now or never, in 5 seconds the lights would go out and if we were attacked there was the same chance of surviving or dying, the same chance of leaving together or never seeing her again, my head was spinning overthinking again trying to convince myself that I shouldn't be afraid, I wasn't afraid when I left that room to be shot, I shouldn't be afraid now.

My trembling hands took her face and as I closed my eyes my lips kissed hers leaving us both frozen

''5..4..3..2..1…''

I love you - I whispered barely separating from her without being able to look at her face because of the darkness around us

And I love you…let's go…

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We have an impostor…guess who?

Today i just write a little, my hands still hurting by the accident i have but i can't resist anymore, Thanks for reading, I'll be back soon!

Tag List!

@kuureii @sann1e @sunflowers-are-heaven @bridellashiper @etta-huracan @cupiid1 @alianacelinecolux @juliexz @duchcess @stvrdustalexx @styles-weasley @cupiid1 @babyzzlove @captainlunaxmen @lobotomyrealness @mariaxman @s-riddle16 @flowersbloom8787 @danisika @learninglinesintherainn @sl33pycaaat @mikuley

[asarigg]

Inside the Character's Mind: Part 6

CHILDHOOD. SLY AND KOUJAKU. THE AVOIDANT BEHAVIOR: part 3

As if all that wasn’t already enough, at the end of the Re:connect, this happens. Aoba thinks to himself that this is not what Koujaku wanted, as much as Sly wants to think that it is, that he’s in the right. As if what he has done has helped the Koujaku inside, the one who’s like him, the true Koujaku, to come out. As if they could be free inside that cell.

Koujaku reacts to Aoba’s thoughts. Sly thinks for a moment that it’s his imagination, but when Aoba repeats his thoughts, Koujaku says his name. Koujaku, who despite not having articulated a single word all this time, weeks, months, says his name as soon as Aoba “speaks”, that’s what I’m talking about when I mention their spiritual connection, that’s how strong it is. It happening after such a different sex scene, where neither of them can say no, nor show any kind of rejection, is just a reminder that they are both locked away, suffering, and that they will stay there watching this happen day after day until the day they die, not being able to see, or touch, or call each other’s names, or say “I love you” or anything they once wanted to say. They can only just watch each other wither away.

These thoughts of “This isn’t what Koujaku wanted” are very interesting because just like Sly thought, Koujaku really wanted Aoba to accept and love him. But the last thing he wants is having Aoba reciprocate him just because that’s what Koujaku wants. He’d rather be rejected, and even die in the extreme case of the situation hurting Aoba, than having him living something he doesn’t really want, that he doesn’t feel in his heart. Giving himself to Koujaku letting him do whatever he wants without thinking twice, without thinking about his own wishes. A life that doesn’t respect Aoba’s wishes is a nightmare for him. Just like he says in the confession scene “All I can remember is that I didn’t want to touch you like that”.

I mentioned that they don’t treat the tattoo as something that changed Koujaku, but as someone else inside his mind. When Sly appears before him, Koujaku immediately knows that he’s not Aoba, but has a hard time believing it, because physically he’s the same but white. He doesn’t know what’s going on, he can’t process it, but he knows. And the thoughts that tell him that the man in front of him is not Aoba are in red, like someone else’s, with some lowercase and some uppercase, growing more intense as the madness and anger of his tattoo reflects through. Doesn’t it remind you of how Sly’s thoughts appeared in the middle of the screen when Aoba was in charge?

Sometimes I wonder what Sly’s real intention was here. In theory he wants to break Koujaku and bring out the beast because that’s the part of Koujaku that he sees himself reflected in, that destructive entity, his darkest, true side, his pure animal instinct. Exactly what Sly is.

But he still tells the sane Koujaku that he loves him and wants to convince him that he’s Aoba. If that had worked then what would he do next? Because he truly believes that’s what he wanted to hear, and when the narration returns to his point of view he tells us that his love for Koujaku is true. Obviously locked in a cell it would be difficult for anyone to believe him, and Sly wouldn’t get him out of there anyway when he wants to keep Koujaku for himself. But then why does he keep trying to convince him, over and over again, even when Koujaku still doesn’t recognize him as Aoba any time he wakes up? Would he have been satisfied with a sane Koujaku, with those restrictions he hates, just because he accepted his words? It’s only when he sees that Koujaku won’t buy it, no matter what he tells him, that he changes his strategy.

And it’s in this scene that we see Koujaku in control for the last time, and again the last thing he says before losing his mind is Aoba’s name. This ending makes us see how Koujaku once again enters a cycle of abuse. He has gone from being his father’s slave, to Ryuuhou’s, and now Sly’s, and he will probably never get out of that cell alive. He no longer has prayer beads protecting him, only chains imprisoning him.

Sly is aware of what he has done, and he believes that since he has destroyed Koujaku’s consciousness/spirit, it’s only fair that he is the one to destroy his body, not only fair but it even seems like an attractive idea, to die at his hands (Sly try not to be Ryuuhou challenge). I really like this dialogue where Sly tells Koujaku that he can tear off his flesh if he wants, on the condition that he stays. Staying with him, a reflection of his desire to feel loved, accepted, after so many years of abandonment. After hearing Koujaku speak back to Aoba, it must feel like a punch to the stomach to think for a moment that he’s wrong with what he’s chosen for the two of them, to think that Koujaku doesn’t really love him.

Having him locked in a cage somehow is perfect to prevent the slightest chance of Koujaku walking away, as well as keeping him in this state, unable to speak, unable to think, unable to reject him. It’s because of these things that I usually think that at least at the beginning the relationship with Koujaku in a good ending would be quite turbulent. He would like to flirt with Koujaku, but when he realizes that he really feels love for him, he feels vulnerable, weak, and needs to protect himself because the people who were supposed to always be with him and protect him, abandoned him. And Koujaku somehow “abandoned” him once too. So before exposing himself to that, he would rather push Koujaku away. Sly would always come back to him, because as much as he wants to walk away he can’t, he needs Koujaku to stay by his side. It doesn’t matter if it’s love or hate, Sly will take it because it’s intense, real and raw.

Fun fact: Sly and Beast Koujaku both have golden eyes, when they “transform”. Everyone has those three sides of their conscience but Aoba’s just have a distinct personality and identity each, which I think might lead to thinking that beast Koujaku might have a personality of his own. I think he’s somewhere in between, he’s obviously not like them, but he’s definitely his own entity. Like some kind of natural force, like rain, wind, the energy of the cosmos, possessing him, something more abstract than a spirit or god, which we usually see as human or animal-like appearance wise.

The first thing that strikes us when we see Aoba is that his design radically changes. When Sly takes control of his body it’s not like he suffers any physical changes, besides the shine of his eyes, however here he turns completely white. The only time we see something like that happen is when we see the true forms of Sei and Aoba, but those black marks don’t appear. This is what makes me wonder if the white color has something to do with those forms, as if it were some kind of symbolism of Sly “breaking free” and being himself, without restrictions, without Reason, but they don’t add the black marks to not spoil it, or because it looks like shit with the design, or because it simply has nothing to do with that.

The white color is the color of death, mourning, the color with which the deceased are dressed. A sterile color, without impurities, highly related to the spiritual world. Many white flowers are commonly used in funerals, usually Buddhist, such as the white chrysanthemum, used for its meaning of truth and sincerity. Aoba wears a white kimono and also gives one to Koujaku. These traditional elements could be there just to remember Koujaku but nothing in this document could ever be simple of course.

The hair of a dead person is considered to turn white after a certain period of time, meaning that the hair is no longer a source of impurities, it can't be possessed by an evil spirit, and can be transported beyond the border that marks the separation between the sacred realm of the dead and the ordinary world of the living.

His skin, his characteristic blue hair, his eyes and his clothes turn completely white because at this point Aoba is no longer there. Not in a literal sense, of course, but in a figurative sense, Aoba is dead. And this is basically the same thing that happens with Koujaku. They are both reborn, destroyed, spiritually dying so that something else can be created, the ID, the instinct of destruction, the two beasts freed from the bodies that held them prisoners.

His clothes in general resemble those of a Miko, with a more “fantastical” and sexualized appearance. This post talks about it as well. Again it’s a reference to the spiritual realm, their religious side and how Aoba/Sly is an object of devotion, of how Aoba is somewhat a channeler for Koujaku. Just like there are rituals that call the gods to our world, like I’ve said in the section about hair, which serves as a connection with gods, Aoba is the only thing that connects Koujaku with this world, the only reason why he’s still alive.

[lanafofana]

lana, may i humbly request a teeny bit of rookanis please? with or without spite, up to you

Anything for you Doe! ‘In the hands of a master the simplest of weapons was transformed into an artist’s tool. When he moved, the blade acted as an extension of his very will. Light flickered off the edge like a dance echoed in the perfect choreography of an a—

“Rook.”

The quill made a wet inky smear across the page as it slipped from between Bellara’s startled fingers. Below her perch, the thunk of blade against cutting board seemed a tad more menacing when one realized Spite was on the other end of it.

“Spite. Hello.” Rook’s voice was warm and friendly as always. Privately Bellara marveled that her protagonist boss was so unflappable in the weirdest of situations. “Does Lucanis know that you’re…um. What are you doing?”

“Preparing. Food. Feed the.” Spite growled, low and guttural, as if slipping out of the range of his vocabulary and displeased by it.

“Are you making dinner for everyone?” Rook supplied, her voice slowly approaching as she drew closer to see what Spite had wrought of their provisions.

“Yes,” confirmed Spite.

“I see. That’s, well,” faltered Rook. “I think that’s potentially very nice. Well done trying to help Lucanis with meals. I do have one question though, just a thought. Feel free to not answer.”

“Ask. Question!”

“Do you have any idea what to feed, um, people?”

Spite was silent for a long moment. The sounds of a knife slicing through something and hitting the cutting board started up again, slowly at first and then gaining more speed. And then, finally, Spite said: “Cut into pieces, collect into pot, fire!”

“I see you’ve been paying attention to Lucanis’ cooking,” Rook’s voice noted, amused. “Perhaps I can answer any questions you might have on what types of things you should be cutting into pieces.”

“Types,” grunted Spite.

“Types of food,” said Rook. “Cheese. Bread. Fresh things, you know like, uh, fruits and vegetables. Fish, venison, pork…that mystery jerkey Solas left behind in the back.”

“Mystery…” Spite’s knife paused on the cutting board. “This? Not. Food?”

“No,” said Rook, sounding relieved their impromptu lesson on digestible ingredients had taken root. “No. That’s not food.”

“Start. Over?” Spite demanded, sounding torn between anger and, just detectable in the lilt of his pout, frustration.

“That’s alright. You learned a new thing anyway,” said Rook. “Tell you what, I’ll take care of dinner tonight and next time I’ll teach you something easy you can make everyone. All by yourself if you really want.”

Spite growled.

“Or we can make it a group effort. See if Manfred wants to learn a new recipe besides tea and those little sandwiches.”

“Curiosity doesn’t? Know recipe?”

“I haven’t taught them anything in the kitchen so I don’t really know. Probably not.”

“Rook teach Spite,” declared Spite suddenly. “Not Curiosity!”

“How will Curiosity, I mean Manfred, learn something new then?”

Spite nearly shouted in his excitement. “Spite! Teach! Curiosity!” Spite laughed, a hoarse dry cackle that raised the hairs on the back of Bellara’s neck.

“If you like,” said Rook gamely. “For now, if you grab me some onions from the back I can show you a couple other ways to cut up vegetables.”

The sound of the knife clattering to the table was followed by the retreat of footsteps as Spite retrieved the onions. Bellara leaned out of her hiding spot and could just barely see Rook’s profile as she cleared whatever Spite had been diligently dicing into the garbage bin.

“Rook?” Lucanis, having just emerged from the pantry, blinked sleepily as he looked from the onions in his hands to Rook, confusion bleeding into dismay.

“Spite thought you could use a break from cooking,” Rook said, taking the onions from him and returning to the kitchen. “Might have a point too, you look tired.”

“I’m fine.”

“Lucanis.”

The assassin set his jaw. “I’m fine.”

Rook’s grip on the onions tightened before her shoulders drooped and she sighed. “None of us are fine, Lucanis.” The sound of a knife slicing through onion started up and the crinkle of paper onion skin being discarded followed. “It’s alright to depend on us as much as we depend on you.”

“Are you giving me one of your famous pep talks?”

“Only if it’s working.”

“Hmm,” Lucanis joined Rook in the kitchen. His arms folded while he watched her knife work. “You should take your own advice some time.”

Rook looked at him from the corner of her eye. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“You don’t always have to be the one to pick up the slack. Let someone else cook, you’ve been going at full speed ever since—”

“I’m fine.”

“Ah,” said the assassin with a smile Bellara didn’t have to see to know was gracing the curve of his lips. “Of course.”

Rook’s hands stilled and she shot Lucanis an annoyed look. “Point taken, Dellamorte.” She hesitated, head dipping down, and then sighed as if very gently releasing a hidden pressure valve in her chest. “Sometimes I think if I stand in one place too long, my secret will be out.”

Lucanis tilted his head to one side, “And what secret is that?”

A hollow, self deprecating laugh shook loose in the silence. “What an utter fraud I am.”

“Nobody who has seen you do the things you have could think you’re a fraud.”

Rooks hair moved as she shook her head. “I wasn’t meant for this. Leadership? Me? I don’t know what I’m doing and any minute it feels like someone’s going to call my bluff.”

“Nobody questions your leadership,” said Lucanis, still staring at Rook’s face as if waiting for it to crack open and reveal the secrets hidden within.

“Maybe they should,” she retorted.

“Rook.”

“Lucanis,” she parroted.

“Are all Lords of Fortune as insufferable as you are?”

“No,” Rook laughed. “I’m one of a kind.”

“I was already aware of that.” Bellara felt her heart swell to burst and clamped her mouth shut on a squeal before it could escape.

Rook sucked in a breath and finally tilted her head to meet the assassin’s eyes. “Now who’s giving the pep talk?”

“I told you, did I not?” Lucanis closed the distance between them and nuzzled his face into her hair, hands on her hips. “When you doubted yourself, I would be here to remind you how magnificent you are.”

“Magnificent is a bit much, don’t you think?”

Lucanis was adamant. “Magnificent,” he murmured into her hair. “Magnificent,” he said against the warm freckled skin of her neck. With a deft touch he removed the knife from her hand and placed it with the onions. Tugging on her hands Lucanis drew her away from the kitchen and into a soft embrace. “Magnificent,” he promised.

“Sap,” Rook scoffed through a smile. “What are we going to do about dinner?”

Lucanis grinned. “Bellara volunteered.”

From her perch Bellara’s heart stuttered.

“She did?” Rook asked as Lucanis led her away towards the main door.

“She did,” confirmed Lucanis.

From her corner Bellara peered around the edge of her hiding spot and locked eyes with the crow. He winked before ushering Rook out of the building.

[later, in another part of the lighthouse] Emmrich: where the devil are my gloves Manfred: *innocent hiss*

[queers-gambit]

The Strength in Honor [ part 3 of 3 ]

prompt: well, well, well, if it isn't the consequences of your own actions. let the Games begin.

pairing: General Marcus Acacius x female!Aurelius!reader

fandom: Gladiator II -> no masterlist

word count: 8.3k+

warnings: spoilers, blood, character injury, canon character death, Acacius survives, drama, depiction of canon complicit physical violence, epilogue, very lil tiny smut, very lil tiny NSFW, depiction of happiest ending author could think of.

part one: read here part two: read here

The gladiators perked up when the sounds of struggle echoed from a distant tunnel; torchlight glowing brighter the closer the approaching intruders got. While restrained to their cells, most prisoners peaked out to watch as multiple guards were required to wrangle an irate General Acacius into an empty cell.

"You're no men of mine," Acacius snarled at the guards as they shoved him to the ground before slamming it shut; keeping bars between the feral man and themselves.

"No, General. We're the Emperor's."

He scoffed, "Hardly men of Rome, then."

"Do try to get some rest, General," another tacked on smugly, "you'll need your wits about you if you're gonna save your lady by," he raised his voice to ensure everyone heard, "fighting every man here!"

There was a grumble from the gladiators, Lucius' arms poking out to rest between the bars; keys heavy and hidden on his hip. He glared at the man he'd been convinced he needed to kill; the man he told Macrinus he wanted in exchange for being his champion; the man he thought would avenge his wife's death. Yet as he listened to the guards taunt him, he heard his aunt's voice pleading with him to understand the General was not the enemy.

He ignored the Wisdom of Venus in favor of his own anger.

The Praetorian Guards spat on the General before laughing and taking their leave; several hushed voices whispering to one another as a distant door clanged shut.

"General? General Acacius?" Someone questioned from the dark.

"Yes?"

"General," the voice insisted, "the hell's going on? What're you doing here?"

Lucius watched Acacius approach his cell door with narrowed eyes, taking the bars in hand as he identified, "Augustus?"

The guard winced as he neared the cell, "Ah, hell, it is you, thought I was seein' shit at first."

"Solider," Acacius greeted.

"Is the plan off?"

"What?"

Augustus shook his head, "The Lady Aurelius was here not long ago, sent Ravi to gather your men. Is the plan off?"

Lucius watched in real time as the General blinked slowly in remembrance, giving the Gladiator time to note the scattering of facial injuries. "Y/N sent Ravi to gather the men?"

"Yes, General."

"Good, good," he nodded, then shaking his head in disappointment. "I don't know what's to come next, soldier, we were betrayed."

"What?"

"The Emperors... They knew, yet I don't think specific details were shared as I saw no deployment to intercept my men yet."

"So they threw you down here?"

Acacius nodded, "In the morning, I am to fight all of you for the life of Lady Aurelius. There's no use in hiding it now: the Lady and I have been involved in an extramarital affair nearly 20 years."

"Jesus, Mary-Mother, and Joesph," Augustus scoffed, head cocking in confusion. "Why not just marry her?"

"I had planned to," Acacius admitted, "after the war, when the fighting was done, when I returned to Rome. I even had a ring," he smirked sadly, "but before I could propose, Lucius Verus died and widowed Lucilla. The Emperor asked me to marry her instead, for protection."

"He did not know about you and Y/N?"

"I'm sure he had his suspicions, we were young and dumb; not very good at hiding anything."

"Why accept? If you loved Y/N, why marry Lucilla?"

Lucius listened intently as Acacius admitted, "Because General Maximus told me to honor our Emperor, honor Rome. There was no denying Lady Lucilla's hand in marriage."

"But you and Venus never quit, huh?" Augustus snickered, "My man!"

"Just loved her too much to stop," Acacius shrugged, shaking his head. "Couldn't ever let go, and even now, I can't. So, tomorrow, I will attempt to fight you all - but we all know, the Emperor's are orchestrating a plan now to ensure I do not succeed."

The creaking of an opening iron door made both men pause their conversation, looking up in time to spy Lucius stepping from his unlocked cell. He watched the way Acacius straightened up with a knowing look; understanding his aunt must've had enough time to tell him about Lucius before their downfall.

"Hanno," Augustus tried to intercept, "how'd you - "

"Is it true?" He directed at the General.

Acacius let his eyes shift from guard to Gladiator; noting how Augustus did not seem phased by his unlocked cell. He asked "Which part?" for clarification.

"Loving Lady Y/N for 2 decades, Maximus telling you to marry Lady Lucilla?"

"All of it," he nodded. "Though my marriage to the Lady was not all bad, she... She just..."

"She wasn't Y/N," Lucius filled in, sounding neutral; neither angry or offended on his mother's behalf, but also not elated on his aunt's either.

"Nobody was - nobody ever will be again," Acacius told him. "Without her, Rome will be set adrift. You should all prepare."

"You speak as if it's already over."

"Weren't you listening?" Acacius snapped. "I am to fight you all, by myself. The Emperor's will ensure neither of us walk away - though, they will try to get Y/N, they spoke of their desire for her."

Lucius and Augustus shared the same expression of disgust, upper lips curling. "They can try," Augustus scoffed, crossing his meaty arms. "Your men still march for the city, General, and the men in these cells stand with you. What's the plan?"

"'Plan'? There's no more plans, kid, it's over. We lost."

"Not yet," Lucius mused, "the Games have only just begun."

"Look," Acacius shook his head, "when we face each other in the arena tomorrow, there will be no way out. I only ask for a swift death for us both. Should the Emperors ever get their hands on her, I fear death will be Y/N's only relief... Do not condemn your aunt to such a fate, she's the best of us and deserves better."

"No, the answer is simple, is it not?" Lucius asked, looking around the other cells of gladiators. "You hear that, lads? Your General Acacius must fight us all tomorrow to protect his lady-love! To protect Venus!" Flesh and metal banged on iron cell doors, a gentle hoot answering his rhetorical inquiry. "He says give him a quick death!" Another round of door-banging. "Know what I say? I say! The answer is simple! The Emperors intend for the General to fight us all - so none of us will fight!"

"What?" Augustus asked over the approval of agreeing gladiators. "Hanno, the hell do you mean? We'd all get shot by the archers!"

Lucius smirked, "There is strength in numbers, my friend... And 2,000 men loyal to the General march for the city. So long as the Emperors have a show, we keep them drawn in and locked on us, fully distracted - they won't so much as notice the city being sacked."

"There need be no sacking, the city is ready to fall," Acacius inputted, eyes narrowed at Lucius.

"All the more reason then," he smirked.

Augustus chuckled, "Oh, hooo! Hear that? I think Hanno has a plan, lads! Should we hear him?" The gladiators banged louder, "I asked, should we hear him!?" Now, they roared in agreement, making Augustus smirk at Lucius and cross his broad, bulging arms. "Go on, then. What's the plan, Hanno?"

Acacius leaned on the bars of his door, ready to take his orders like any good soldier.

The General was collected first from his cell, provided a change of clothes, his armor, and weaponry. Before he disappeared from sight, his head turned to catch Lucius' eyes; either man nodding subtly in agreement to what they had strategized all night.

The Praetorian Guards gathered first at the doors, posted along the inner arena of the Colosseum with archers lining the walls between sand and spectators. Acacius watched from the tunnel as a huge, decorated wooden cart was lugged into the arena by decoratively-matching white horses; you tied to a broad post in the center; dressed in a gorgeous white chiffon dress. You were accessorized in gold, but what caused instant anger from the crowd wasn't just the sight of you... But the sight of you, bound and bloodied.

Geta's Guards were none too gentle in their "watch" of you that night. Your nose bled, bottom lip split down to your chin, apple of your cheek cut open and weeping down your neck, over your collarbones and into the shoulders of your dress. Your wrists were raw, shoulders strained as your arms were bound behind you. In a twist of cruel irony, your maids - including the one who betrayed you - were bound in chains to the cart, as well; surrounded by the Senators who had agreed to your plans of usurpation.

"Gracus," you called to the old man closest to you. When his eyes met yours, you heaved, "I'm so sorry - for all of this."

"You need not apologize, my Lady," he warbled, hands bound before him in a sign of prayer. "This was what we knew could happen, yet we still sided with you. When it comes to Rome's best interest, that is where those most loyal must stand - no matter the consequences."

You nodded slowly, blinking back emotion - still feeling handsomely guilty.

"LET HER GO!" It was heard echoing from the stadium seating; more and more voices joining in their own protest. The archers lining the walls turned to prevent the packed rows of citizens from getting too close; causing tensions to mount as the people did not like such a brash reaction.

In the spectator's box, Emperors Geta and Caracalla sat pompously with Lucilla and Macrinus; waving to the booing crowd. Over them all, the Master of Ceremonies cried out, "People of Rome! Oh, hear me now, my good friends! People of Rome, settle! Settle yourselves! For today, you bear great witness to our Republic's great and fair justice!" The crowd growled and jeered. "Today... Today, great people, we witness the Gods judgement! Today, General Marcus Acacius," the crowd now cheered, "shall face the whole of the Emperor's gladiators in an effort to protect his long-standing affair partner, Lady Y/N Aurelius!"

The people stirred as your head bowed in shame. The Master of Ceremonies paused to let his words marinate, Geta smirking as he misunderstood the mumbling crowd to be displeased with you and Marcus.

"Who cares!?" It was cried.

"Let her go!"

"MERCY!"

"DON'T DO THIS!"

"Just let them be together!"

"LET HER GO!"

"MERCY, EMPERORS, MERCY!"

You could see the way Geta shifted in his seat with discomfort as nearly all citizens of Rome begged and pleaded for your mercy; to allow redemption, to seek penance, that this was not justice just because it was labeled as such.

A door opened across the arena, your head lifting in time to see Marcus striding out of the tunnel to the cheers of his loyal spectators. Your chains rattled as you stood upright from the post, tears mingling with blood down your neck as you watched him march to his death. Around him, Praetorian Guards moved from their place along the outskirts of the arena to surround him and your cart.

Acacius came to a halt, surveying the arena before locking his eyes with yours. "Are you hurt?" He asked. Your head shook, the tears did not lessen. "Good. Stay strong, my star, I'll get you outta here."

You nodded, truly believing him for a reason you didn't understand. Was love truly so blind? Perhaps.

Unknown to you, Augustus was galloping through the city to meet with Acacius' men at the city gates; intending on leading the first wave into the Colosseum. The gladiators burst from their cells and slaughtered the Emperor's men left behind; gathering at the gates of the tunnels to watch as General Acacius saluted the few of his men unlucky to be placed in the Emperor's guard. Several freed gladiators were sent through the Colosseum to neutralize as many archers as possible while the fighting inside the arena began in a brutal fashion.

For what it's worth, it was a glorious attempt by the Praetorians - but this was General Marcus Acacius they fought! Trained by General Maximus - the Spaniard, himself! He was a soldier foremost and for the first time, had something tangible and real and in his hands to fight for. The men in black armor fought well, for all it's worth - but you were on the line and Acacius wasn't in the clearest states of mind. There was no stopping him. There was none that could stand against him yet.

Until Lucius lead few gladiators into the arena next, signaling the next stage of their plan was in motion. "Acacius!" You warned, struggling in your restraints, "Behind you!"

He dodged out of the way of the last solider, swinging his sword around to lacerate the man's neck; splattering his face with a spray of blood. He panted, backing up a few paces towards the cart, leaning a hand to a wheel spoke. "Are you all right?" Acacius asked, looking exhausted but still strong.

"Are you!?"

"I'm fine," he assured, looking up at you with a smirk, "but you need to get ready, love."

"For what?"

"We're gonna need you to put on a bit of a show, hey?"

"Who the fuck is 'we'!?"

"Just - get upset when you see us fight, my Lady, really give 'em a show. We need all of their attention on us for as long as possible."

"Please, Acacius, what's happening!?" You begged, yelping shrilly and flinching when an arrow thumped into the meat of your inner thigh - managing to graze the femoral artery, causing blood to trickle down your leg at a mild rate as your dress slowly soiled with a blossom of blood where the arrow was embedded. It was a very deliberate hit, the crowd 'oohing' in union as every set of eyes darting over to see Geta standing at the stone banister with a smirk as he lowered his bow. "Oh, he's fucking lost it!" You squirmed in discomfort, whimpering in pain, lifting weight off the injured leg; the crowd enraged.

"Fuck - how bad is it? Y/N, please, my love, I know it hurts but talk to me!"

"It's not bad," you assured through your warbling tone, managing to look down and note the front of your dress. "No, no, not bad, it's embedded, plugging the wound. As long as we don't pull the shaft out, I should be fine."

"Acacius!" Lucius bellowed, charging over the sand.

"Wait - wait - wait - what's happening!? Don't! Acacius, please, please, that's Lucius! Do not - you cannot kill him!" You nearly forgot all Acacius had just said when he was forced to engage with the obviously angry Gladiator. "Lucius! Lucius, don't! Please! Please! Fuck honor, you two, this isn't worth your lives!" You felt flooded with genuine fear as your nephew gave your lover a real fight; both equally challenged, hacking at one another in dramatic flares. They moved all around, forcing the other gladiators to take new positions - keeping the attention of the crowd: commoners and the wealthy alike.

Then, after a wave of panic faded, your maid, Melody, reminded, "My Lady! The General said to keep their attention, remember? Put on a show?"

"What?" You asked the woman who hadn't betrayed you. The one who did was posted behind you - dead from the Praetorian Guard managing to get to her before Acacius could get them. Only few Senators were still standing.

"You have to scream - make a big deal of their fued!"

"Fuck," you breathed in mild confusion - then, like a crack of lightning, you understood. "Don't!" You begged them with a cry, "Please! Acacius! He's my nephew - you cannot! LUCIUS! LUCIUS, PLEASE!"

"Keep going," Melody encouraged, eyes on the crowd from her position facing the watch box occupied by Royal Romans. "They're all listening, keep going!"

You pulled against your chains, "Lucius! Mercy, mercy, nephew, please! Let us leave in peace - don't do this! I beg of you! Spare him!"

"Something's happening..." Melody informed with narrowed eyes. "Geta's on his feet - keep going, my Lady! Louder! Get hysterical!"

You were no actress but still put on your best show. "LUCIUS! NO!" You screamed authentically when he swiped his sword up through the spear Acacius wielded - severing it in two. "Ah, for fuck's sake, you two! Come off it, please!"

The fighting seemed oddly personal and poetic; the two dancing tunelessly through the sand, dressed in blood. You heard Melody gasp when Acacius backed off Lucius, kneeling to the ground at the Gladiator's mercy; her picking her chains with a spare hair pin. The two exchanged a few words you could not hear, both Emperors on their feet to watch with Macrinus and Lucilla standing just behind them in earnest wonder. When Lucius looked to Geta and saw his thumbs-down, he looked to Acacius and mumbled something else. Then... He knelt, too.

Geta appeared enraged for a long moment, almost ready for the Guards to shoot them both dead, before Lucius was climbing to his feet. He left Acacius with his knees in the sand, you perking up as Lucius paced a large circle before calling loudly, "Emperor Geta! There's been a request made!"

"Deadmen don't get requests, Gladiator, but living ones take them! Should they want to remain living!" The Emperor called back, trying to remain aloof.

"Is this," he pointed his blade back at Acacius, "how Rome treats her heroes!?" This caused the crowded Colosseum to hiss in anger, growing more restless with each word from their favorite Gladiator. "Since it is the Emperor who passes judgment, since it is the Emperor who has decided the General dies - should it not be by his hand?"

Geta scoffed gently, "I gave the order, I need not swing the sword."

"But in the name of honor, you should," Lucius smirked, offering his weapon. "Here, come, take mine! You say the General dies, you yearn for the Lady Aurelius? Come claim it all like the greater leaders before you!"

Knowing he was being called out, Geta chuckled, "You've a sense of humor, Gladiator, as much as you're a poet, I see. Now, prove you're a solider and kill the General."

"I would think it just and fair to come from you, Emperor," Lucius refused, lifting his arms with his voice, "and the people of Rome came for a show! Are you not entertained!?" The crowd roared deafeningly as if to agree Emperor Geta should enter the ring himself, foolishly, he thought, as Commodus once did. Lucius paced another circle as the archers were clashing with citizens still, facing the spectator's box and pointing his sword, "Come, Emperor! Nobody else can swing their sword, there's none present who will fight their General. The men here, they know loyalty! And honor! And love! They will not fight your man, let alone kill him. So, come! You must - if you want him dead, come, kill him."

Macrinus approached Geta and began rushing his words of advisory, telling the Emperor he should prove to the people he was fair - not tyrannical - by passing this sentence; to 'just' step in the arena. "I am not as vain as Commodus, I need not kill the General myself," Geta told him with a snap.

"It's just a show for the people, don't you want them to get their worth? Or turn unruly from their disappointment and resentment? Think about it: they've been sat here, all day, in the sun, hungry and thirsty, after having paid to watch their city-favorites fight to the death. They want to be sated - so, perhaps seeing their Emperor pass his own sentencing would be enough to satisfy them."

"And with what protection for myself?" Geta snarled, "My men are dead, all that's left are slaves."

"There are still archers, take the few Praetorians from here," Macrinus offered, cocking his head.

"What safety is this you offer?" He seethed.

"C'mon, Emperor!" Lucius taunted again. "Come down! Disband Rome's General for yourself!"

"I should shoot the fool now," Geta considered, nodding to the archers in the box. They strung arrows to their bows and aimed at Lucius, making the crowd jeer and boo; for the Gladiator to lift his hands in innocence, backing away a few steps; and for his mother to protest. "But!" Geta announced to the Colosseum, "I am merciful!"

The crowd cheered lazily, more so in excitement as Geta waved the archers down and was strapped in flashy, never-before-blooded armor. The procession of Praetorians from the box followed him to the mouth of the gates; surrounding the Emperor and jogging inside. Surviving, straggling gladiators just milled about their strategic positions, watching carefully, as the Emperor approached Marcus - still on his knees.

Your eyes widened as a ruckus was heard from above, a shrill scream of terror sounding before a body dropped - dead - into the sand. It was a woman from the crowd, tossed over the side by a Praetorian. This caused people to fight back and for Emperor Geta to startle as it was discovered Augustus was successful in leading the first wave of men into the city; soldiers and gladiators working together to dispel the archers and any Roman loyal to the Twins. Marcus smirked and easily lifted to his feet, making Geta stumble back a couple steps as the General seethed while swinging his sword in hand, "What was it I said earlier? You'd sooner die than touch my Lady?"

Geta's eyes widened as he looked up to you chained on the post, seeing the blood on your dress and trembling. "Now, Acacius!" Lucius shouted as chaos descended onto the Colosseum; the Gladiator fighting a Praetorian a short distance away. "We haven't the time! It's now or never!"

"M-Mercy - mercy!" Geta begged, trying to back away but tripping over a dead body. He sprawled pathetically in the dirt, trembling hand lifted as if Marcus was his savior, "Mercy, General, please! MERCY!"

You watched as Marcus swiftly swung his sword, cutting steel through the Emperor's neck - sending his head rolling away to the sounds of Caracalla's shrieks. They did not last long.

Marcus instantly turned and sprinted for the cart, you gasping his name and pulling on your chains painfully when an arrow found his shoulder. It sent him off course slightly; enough to stumble, leaving time for a second arrow to find his thigh. This time, he tripped into the dirt, head bowed in pain as you begged him to get up; heart in your throat, fingers slippery from the blood you drew from open wounds caused by the sharp edges of your cuffs.

You whimpered nervously as the fighting turned chaotic; all Senators dead, several fires started, the ringing of swords drowned by the sounds of people screaming. If there were any Gods, today, they turned a blind eye to Rome; making you feel isolated, as if your father's faith had finally been sucked from your soul as you watched Marcus snap the arrow from his thigh. He reached for his shoulder blade and grimaced as he ripped the arrow out, too. Slowly, he found his feet and started forward again; limping the rest of the way to the wagon.

Melody freed herself and instantly scrambled to start on your cuffs, too; trying to be strategic together and adjust so she could cower behind the post and work.

Lucius looked up in time to see Marcus clamor onto the cart, just feet from you before an arrow suddenly lodged in your abdomen - just merely inches from your sternum. It made Acacius freeze before all but materializing in front of you just to throw his body over yours in protection from other flying weaponry. Lucius looked to the box - where the arrow had once more come from. What he saw both slowed time and made his blood boil.

Emperor Caracalla's corpse was slumped in his seat, and above him, Lucilla wrestled for the bow in Macrinus' hands before he was overthrowing her from the balcony. Lucius winced when her body landed in a small mushroom of dirt, sprinting across the arena to slide on his knees at her head.

"What did you do!?" He gaped, trying to support her broken neck but fearing he'd make it worse.

"What... What was necessary... For my... My family..." She managed to get out between strangled breaths, fading fast. Yet, before the light could fully extinguish, her eyes brightened in recognition and reached for his cheek, whispering with the ghost of a smile adorning her lips for the last time, "My son... My Lucius."

But her life was swept into the wind before her fingers could ever find purchase on his flesh. "Mother?" He whispered, finding her eyes unseeing; her arm falling and body turning limp. Emotion clawed at his throat as he asked again, "Mum?"

There was no response.

Lucius heaved a heavy sigh and left Lucilla in her place as respectfully as possible, racing towards the wooden cart in time to witness Meldoy free you from your chains and for Marcus to settle you on your back. He smacked the arrow from your gut and thigh - not pulling them out, but just swiping the excess wood from his way. "Acacius!" Lucius shouted, rushing into the cart's edge to catch himself. "Is she...?"

"She's alive, but there's blood," Marcus informed, using both his hands to straight-arm press into the wound of your gut - thigh seemingly fine to leave alone for now. Nervously, he added quietly, "Too much blood, Lucius."

"Get her to the healers, the army's moving in," he nodded, quickly surveying the arena as Melody made her escape through an open gate. "They've taken out almost all the Praetorians."

"And Lucilla?" Marcus asked, seeing Lucius shake his head; so his bowed and he cursed quietly. "Hey, hey," he rushed when blood splattered over your lips, chin, cheeks, neck, and some flecks reaching your chest from your coughing. "Don't speak, you're all right, love, I've got you," he assured as calmly as he could, Lucius noting the way your face scrunched in delirious pain. From where your dress appeared the most concentrated with blood, he assumed you were struck in at least one or two vital places. "What happened to Lucilla?" Marcus questioned, looking to Lucius.

"Macrinus. I imagine she's the reason Auntie's not dead right now - looked like they were wrestling, she might've knocked the arrow off course."

"I imagine," Marcus repeated in agreement.

"Do you see him? Macrinus, I mean, do you see him?" Lucius asked, both men trying to see through the chaos. "We need to end this now with him!"

"There," Acacius inclined his chin across the arena, directing Lucius' attention to where Macrinus was stealing a horse and galloping out of the Colosseum. "Go! Go, Lucius!" He encouraged.

"Keep her alive!" Lucius barked, rushing for one of the other white horses; running alongside before kicking off and leaping onto the steed.

"Yeah, I fucking plan to, kid," Acacius muttered, looking around for an exit strategy. "Fucking hell," he saw nothing but fighting, gore, tragedy, devastation, carnage.

"General!"

"Augustus! Here!"

The former gladiator rushed for the cart, tugging the reins of another horse behind him. "C'mon! Let's go! You have to move, General, you can't stay here! Only a single squadron made it into the city, Macrinus sent his men to delay the rest!" Augustus panted, holding the animal steady as Marcus started apologizing to you profusely. You whimpered when he lifted you in his arms, roughly maneuvering from the cart and lifting you on bare horseback.

"We owe you, friend," Marcus nodded, smacking the soldier's shoulder before taking claim of the reins.

"Just get her somewhere safe and meet us at the city limits," Augustus panted, offering the General a leg-up onto the horse before slapping its hindquarters to send the couple off through the Colosseum at a gallop.

For three days, you slept. For three days, Rome was expunged of the Twin Emperor's reign of tyranny. For three days, bodies burned. For three days, General Marcus Acacius sat at your bedside in palpable worry.

"How is she tonight?" Lucius questioned softly, stepping into the med-bay with a tray of food that would, once more, go uneaten.

"Breathing still," Marcus answered.

Lucius sighed, "Why don't you go clean up, General?"

"I'm General no longer," he corrected, "I was stripped of my rank."

"As if anything those two did will permanently stick," Lucius scoffed with a roll of his eyes, setting the tray aside. "Go bathe and feed yourself, Acacius, I will sit with her tonight."

"I can't leave her," his head shook in refusal, "I won't."

"You did before," Lucius noted with a sigh, taking a seat in the only other spare chair in the room on the other side of your medical bed. "You met us at the gates of the city after the Colosseum."

"It wasn't easy," Acacius snipped, "and I was better help there than with her - she's got the healing touch, not me. No... No, I just cause injury, it seems."

Lucius could hear the exhaustion in the General's voice, understanding this didn't come from lack of sleep. "And now? As she rests, what help are you to her now? You know she wouldn't approve."

He chuckled dryly, "I wouldn't forgive myself if she woke and I wasn't here."

"She'd not forgive you if she woke and you had wasted away."

"You two are so fucking loud," a third voice grumbled, making both men nearly fall out of their chairs from sitting up so fast.

"Y/N?" Marcus reached for your hand, his other lifting to pet over your head.

"Who else?"

Lucius shared relieved laughter with Marcus, your eyes begrudgingly opening. "There she is," your nephew mused, "welcome back t'the world, Auntie."

"Fuck this," you grumbled, letting him help you sit up a bit.

"Gave us bit of a scare, love," Marcus whispered.

"Hm," you considered. "Well, seeing as I'm awake and you two are here, I take it... Things... Worked?"

"First, here," Marcus insisted, offering a simple cup of water to your lips after you were settled upright. He tilted the goblet for you, careful not to let you gulp it - but the sweet relief of water on your cottony tongue was too good to resist. You drank greedily. "Easy, easy," he cautioned when you coughed a little, pulling the chalice back to let you breathe. "How're you feeling?"

"Stiff," you admitted with a grimace. "What happened?"

"What do you remember?"

"Uh, 's bit of a blur at moments," you sighed, rubbing your eyes as you thought deep. "I remember the Emperors, the post, you two fighting. Then there was... Geta's head, the Praetorians fighting citizens and gladiators... The army, I remember the army got there, right?"

"Yeah, good," Lucius encouraged.

"Ah, shit, I got shot," you remembered, opening your eyes to regard your thigh.

"The healers got it out in one go," Marcus told you, "didn't cause damage - you should heal easily from that, my star. But you can't put pressure on the leg for a few days more, not until the cauterization set."

You nodded slowly, "That's... Good to hear. What happened after? I... I think I remember getting shot again? Ah, fuck, did I get shot twice?"

"By Macrinus," Lucius confirmed. "Got yah right here," he reached out to gently pet the bandaged wound, "bled a good bit."

"But the healers got the arrow out," Marcus was quick to assure, "and it was an easy enough wound to close after."

You prodded the area gently, asking, "Didn't come out so easily as the first, did it?"

"You can tell?" Lucius asked curiously.

You nodded, "It's sensitive all around, makes me imagine they had to pry the wound open - maybe even wriggle the arrow to dislodge it."

"It wasn't as clean, no, love, but it's out," Marcus sighed. "You're not in danger any longer."

"No, ma'am," Lucius smirked, watching Marcus settle a little more in his chair. "Not from your wounds or external enemies."

"Hm?"

"We've control of the Empire."

"You've been coronated?"

"Not yet - thought I'd wait a week, see how you progress. For now, we're cleaning up where we can."

You smirked, "So... It worked?"

"Yeah, the plan worked," Lucius nodded, "which," he sighed, leaning back casually, "miiiight not work out so well for you two in the end."

"I beg your pardon?" Marcus sneered, looking ready to lose his mind and stomach contents.

Lucius chuckled, "Ease up, you two, Gods. I only mean, I know you both long for retirement, but with Lady Y/N's knowledge of the Empire, Marcus, your experience as Rome's General, and both of your insights to Emperor Aurelius' vision of Rome... I thought you two might be of use in how we proceed."

You immediately insisted, "There is no need for expansion, Lucius. The Emperors wanted India and Persia - but I fear we've too broad a hold to control already to worry about territory."

"Agreed," Acacius sighed. "Rome's too many mouths to feed as is, and with respect, Lucius, we're both exhausted of war."

"I do not intend to prolong war, but end it. End Rome's expansion - there's far too much of this Empire already being neglected."

You looked at Acacius, "Told you he was right for this."

"I didn't disagree."

"I remember you doubting my judgement."

"I would never!" He gasped comically, offended you'd accuse him of such a crime. Lucius snickered with a shake of his head, standing from his seat.

"Listen, uh," he cleared his throat, "while relationships might be strained for now, I do hope we might rebuild together. I held plenty of resentment towards you both - all of you, in truth. Yet now, I can see the Strength it took to Honor yourselves after years of being the Empire's puppets. I would see such strength and honor rewarded, perhaps... A house in the countryside?" You offered a bashful smile with a small chuckle of amusement, watching a bright grin stretch across his lips. "I'll send a healer in to check on you," he told you softly, squeezing your hand, "and I'll be back tomorrow. Yes?"

"Yes, good," you agreed, watching him out the door. When it shut, you sighed, "What of Lucilla, Marcus?"

You half-expected her to burst into the room, unable to look away from the door; knowing the answer before Acacius even opened his mouth. "She didn't make it, my love," he whispered. "Macrinus, he... He shot you, but it didn't kill you," his other hand laid over your bandaged abdomen; warming the wound.

"Right."

"Lucius thinks it's because Lucilla intercepted Macrinus' attack - but in the struggle, lost her life."

You paused for a long moment, relishing the feel of his hand - warm and heavy in yours - tracing idle patterns on your skin. "So, we're only here because of her?"

"I think so."

You were both silent outside of the scrape of his chair drawing closer to your bedside. With hands tangled and tightly woven together, Marcus let his forehead rest against yours in the first moment of peace you'd known in two decades. The idea of "winning" felt farfetched, inconclusive in some manner; and just as you lifted back and opened your mouth to question this peace, Marcus quickly assured first, "It's just us, my star. It's finally just us, we can rest."

Perhaps the Gods hadn't turned their backs completely on Rome yet. How could they? When the evidence is right in front of you, now pressing his lips to yours in sweet relief.

epilogue

In the weeks following his coronation and your wedding to the General, Emperor Lucius Verus secretly employed Rome's finest (surviving) contractors and carpenters to erect a gorgeously secluded homestead beyond the city limits. It took less than half a day's ride, but still felt like a far-enough ride, the home wasn't near the city's stench; it was legitimately nestled in the countryside, naturally secluded and protected. There were trees, fields of wild barley, an abundance of wildlife, and just the smallest of streams that surrounded the home.

He thought it was perfect.

So, the new Emperor commanded something quaint yet sufficient be built upon a newly paved road that only he frequented. He trusted you and Marcus to Rome's handling, finding little time to sneak away and view the progress being made. It was impressive how quick the builders built.

One morning, Lucius sent for you and Marcus, insisting there was something beyond the city he needed your opinion on. So, you each mounted a stallion and spurred from the city with a gaggle of newly appointed Praetorian Guards left in the dust - desperate to keep up. It was evident you, Marcus, and Lucius had all spent much time on horses; your seats natural, gait quickened as the fundamental feeling of freedom took over and sent you galloping all the faster. Over fields, through mud, kicking up grass, the three of you rode hard and long - but mostly out of playfulness.

You couldn't remember ever seeing Lucius like this, beaming and almost carefree; like the weight of Rome had evaporated and he could be "Hanno" again - whoever the hell that was. You decided you liked watching him, just noting little things here and there about your nephew; traits of your father, of his, of your sister, and yes, sadly, your brother, too; but that was just how genetics worked. He seemed approachable like this, not the brutal Gladiator that tore a baboon's flesh with his own teeth or bested Rome's General.

He was just a guy. Some... Dude. You'd say a kid, but he was full grown - wise, aged, knowing.

Lucius slowed his horse first, you and Marcus doing the same; trio trotting up a hill as Praetorians still galloped from behind to catch up. Upon climbing to the top, you discovered a home in the valley below, your horse whinnying your question, "What's this?"

"Your estate," Lucius answered easily, both hands casual on the pommel of his saddle. "Thought it was close enough in case anything happened or I needed you - you needed me - something or other," he flushed, rubbing the back of his neck, "but still remote enough to remain private."

"What's that?" You pointed to a small add-on to what looked like the main house.

"Oh, I, uh, took the liberty of building myself a bit of a guest house. You... Don't mind, do you?"

"I only mind you didn't include it in the main house," you teased, shifting your horse to sidestep closer for your arm to wrap around your nephew's waist. "Are you being genuine?"

"You think I jest?"

"If you do, it's not very funny," you warned.

"It's not a joke, this is serious," he promised, casting a knowing look towards Acacius over your head. "Welcome home."

It didn't take long for you and Acacius to settle in. The house wasn't overly large that you would grow weary in your age here, but still the size considered comfortably privileged. You had a set of maids and few personal guards - all of whom were housed on their own new estates, curtesy of the Emperor. Yet besides them, you were alone - and most days, you assured the staff they need not bother at all. You found domestic work strangely comforting after decades in politics, under this ruler and that; finally able to have a little control in your life by tending your own gardens, changing your own sheets, perhaps even cooking for your own husband.

The walls were nearly all made of retractable doors that could still be closed and reinforced in storms. Curtains hung from the rafters, creating a ethereal environment for you to glide through on bright, sunny days to the sounds of a picturesque stream trickling. Most mornings, you stood in awe of your new home, amazed at such subtle beauty long since taken fro granted - now, coveted in your retirement. And most mornings were then interrupted by your husband beckoning your back to bed and insisting you need not rise with the sun now.

Old habits die hard, however. Especially when the baby in your womb took solid form and began to wriggle around your guts in a mostly pleasant feeling, it was enough to keep you up some nights. This particular morning, you were laid on your back to a cotton blanket, moaning loudly as your husband feasted on his choice of breakfast: the honey that oozed from between your thighs. Your stomach had begun to swell with a bump, just barely stretching the cauterized scars that only now faintly reminded you of that day. Marcus swore it was his seed that made you taste different, perhaps sweeter; the grey in his beard glistening from your sloppy arousal as he indulged himself. One hand kept you pried open (as if you'd ever cut him off or resist), the other slithering up your body to paw aggressively at your swollen, sensitive tit; pinching and tweaking your nipple in time with his lips sucking and tongue tickling your clit.

Right there in wild lavender, tickled by wisps of barley, you met your peak - thigh clenching around your husband's head as the Gods intended. This was your reward after decades of service, of sacrifice.

"Fuck," Acacius muttered when you released hold of his hair, watching him lick his mouth when his eyes met yours, "you think it'll ever get old?"

"What?" You asked breathlessly as he gently maneuvered your legs off his shoulders to slowly crawl up your form. He left a few kisses in his wake.

"This," he smirked against your lips, sweeping his tongue against yours to mingle spit and the taste of your arousal. "The taste of you," he continued, "the smell," he let his nose nuzzle up yours, "the feel," he ended, pulling your thigh up his hip.

"I do doubt it, if it hasn't after 20 years."

"Good," he purred, trying to line himself up naturally, but not entirely successful. So, not wanting to lose the feeling of him, you reached between you to keep his cock at the mouth of your cunt so he could just push inward. You groaned in union; mouths open; all but exchanging hot air between you as Marcus bottomed out.

From this position, it was languid and lazy; slow and feeling. Each thrust felt anew, his balls tickling the slick down your lower lips, all but pushing the air from your lungs as he went. His hand kept a vice grip on your thigh as he moved, the other firmly planting on the blanket beside your head as it was evident his orgasm was mounting the sloppier he got, humping into you with a roll of his hips.

"Fuck's sake," he grit, "you're so fucking wet, my star, this is - it's - it's all I fucking need, but it's too good - I can't, I can't hold on, oh, fuck."

"Don't," you moaned in encouragement, directing his eyes back to yours. "Don't hold back anymore, please, I don't want you to ever hold back."

"But the baby - "

"Is fine, Acacius, worry about the mother right now!" You laughed, reaching to hook your hand around his neck and yank down. Your lips met in messy union, humming, moaning against one another; so, imagine your surprise when all you had to whimper was, "C'mon, husband - " and...

"Fuck!"

You laughed lightly when he dropped - not his full weight, but enough - onto your chest, face fully in your breast; balls contracting as he winced from the sudden release of his pleasure. Manicured fingers raked through sweaty, salty grey hair; relishing in the feeling of being safe, at home, in peace; finally married, pregnant, and at liberty to couple at your own leisure in the sunshine and grasses. You grinned, laughing lightly in absolute bliss. There was no way this was real life, it was impossible to think it was finally your reality after being deprived of openly loving him for 2 decades.

Acacius tried to question what was so humorous, but it only came out as a bewildered moan; reverberating in your flesh.

"Why does that get you there, my love?" You teased, pecking his forehead as his cock gave a last few pulses. "Oh, that's right, the great General Marcus Acacius of Rome meets his end like a ruddy-faced teenager from the weight of his emotions!"

Marcus chuckled against you, slowly lifting up to find your lips spread in amusement. "Aye," he agreed, "but only from the weight of emotions for my wife."

You smiled bashfully, admitting, "How silly, that word, 'wife', or 'married'... 'Husband'. It still sounds a little untrue. Almost unreal, fabricated, as if it's a joke being used against us. Like an insult somehow. Now, we're to be parents, too?"

He frowned, still sheathed within your gummy walls but with both elbows now planted on either side of you so he could pet your hair from your face. "It's very true, we've just gotta train your ear to accept it," he whispered, taking your hand and presenting your ring. "See this? Know what this means?"

"That I am yours?"

Acacius scoffed and laced your fingers, "You're not property for me to own, my morning star, you are revered. The absolute prize, earned from years of service and turmoil to this Empire, your father. And in turn, I am who will protect you, love you; admire, respect, adore, cherish you. This ring means we are bonded in this life and the next, that we travel this path and every path beyond, together." He kissed your gemmed ring chastely, swearing, "It's you and I from now on, pretty girl. It's only us."

"That sounds too good to be true," you admitted in a whisper, lazily kissing one another. "Just us?"

"Just us."

"Promise?"

"Swear on my life," he rushed against your lips.

"Then tell me, sweet husband," you whispered, "what do you call that?" You couldn't help but laugh, pointing in the distance over his shoulder. Acacius torqued his torso to quickly turn over, spying Lucius on horseback atop the hill; waving his arm in glee.

"Oh, this fucking kid," Acacius groaned, dropping his head into the crook of your neck and shoulder. You clung to him tightly in humor.

"He's the Emperor."

"Still a fucking kid, interrupting us. Thought we moved out here to get away from everyone and all their shit? Aren't we retired?" Marcus groaned, begrudgingly pulling out of your heat to spill his spend onto the blanket beneath you. He sat up to cover your bare body with his, pausing to gaze down at you fondly and caress the bare bump; then reaching for the meek clothing that had been tossed aside. "Did you know he was coming?" Acacius asked, both dressing swiftly as Lucius began his canter down the hill.

"No, he didn't send word ahead," you pointed out, "and it's still early morning, look, the doves are still out. Oh, he must've left in the middle of the night..."

"Think something's wrong?"

"Let's find out," you nodded, Acacius standing first in a simple wrapped around toga; reaching down to assist you to your feet. Your hand gently caressed your belly as you thanked him, both barefoot in the grass as you approached the deck of your open-concept home.

Lucius released his horse with your own in the paddock, opening his arms in grandeur as he jogged up the short steps to reach you. "Auntie, mh," he greeted, kissing your cheek sweetly with a tight embrace, "oh-hoooo, you're glowing! Look at yah." He pulled back only to offer his hand to Marcus, "General."

"Emperor," your husband greeted stiffly but still kindly, "to what do we owe this pleasant surprise?"

"Hm, yes, I, uh... I should've sent word ahead," he winced, grinning sheepishly. "I did not mean to interrupt your marital acts, though, I can see it's already paying off."

You tisked your tongue and nudged his shoulder as you supported your bump with one hand. "Tell us, what news? What's wrong? What brings you all the way out here, Lucius?"

"Oh, no, nothing's wrong. I am starting my tour," he proudly announced, "and the road takes me past here, so... I might've wanted to, you know, stop a bit early..." You looked back to the hill, finding it bare for several long seconds, then back at Lucius - who avoided your eyes comically.

"Oh, Lucius, you didn't..."

"What?" Acacius asked. "What did you do?"

"I... Did nothing... Wrong, per se," Lucius amended, slowly backing up into the house with hands held in innocent defense.

"You snuck out!?" You gasped shrilly. "Lucius! You cannot do such things as Emperor - the whole of the city would burn if they thought something happened to you!"

"They know where I usually am!"

"Not when you sneak out in the middle of the night! Praetorians will flood the country looking for you!" You swatted at his beefy arms, him laughing and trying to back away; never hitting hard enough to leave marks, mostly just with enough force to cause a sound. "And that will scare the citizens! And the occupants of the city, and the fucking Senate, since the Emperor himself has now gone missing!" Acacius watched with a fond smile and followed as you backed Lucius into the home. "Just look at you, boy! Look! Look what politics does! You've lost weight - they not feeding you at the Palace? Oh, bullshit, there's so much, it's often left over. I'll have a word with them - c'mon, come, come, come, you must be hungry after riding all night. Speaking of, why did you?"

Lucius shrugged with a smirk and wrapped his arm around your shoulders, yours latching around his waist; both strolling towards the kitchen as he quipped, "Just missed you, I guess."

[ part one: read here ]

[ part two: read here ]

requesting rules and masterlist -> no Gladiator II masterlist

[j-k-writes]

The Brozen Targaryen Deleted Scene - 1

Summary - (Y/N) has enough on his plate with an unwanted betrothal and estranged father forcing himself back into his life. He does not need a new and unwanted dragon thrown into the mix. However, as (Y/N) begins his training as a dragon rider he realizes that perhaps one problem can help fix some others.

Warnings - General HOTD warnings, targcest (cousins), political marriage

The winner of the poll!

(Y/N) did not return to the keep until morning. His uncle and what looked to be the entirety of the royal guard were waiting for him as he dragged his feet through the gates. One look at (Y/N)'s mud and blood-soaked clothing was all it took for his uncle’s face to flush in fury. 

“Come with me.” Viserys bit out. “Now.” 

(Y/N) followed his uncle, and the guards who had not left his side since he climbed the stairs, silently. Not that he could blame them, he’d managed to slip their eyesight the night before, and look what happened. His uncle walked him to his chambers, dismissing most of the guards as they entered. 

“Fetch a maester.” His uncle said to one of the guards as they left, before closing the door behind them. He rounded on (Y/N), fury clear on his face. “Sit.” 

The tiny petulant child that lived in (Y/N)’s brain wanted to continue to stand but the exhaustion seeped deep into his bones and forced him into a seat. (Y/N) sighed as his aching back met the cushioned chair, and he watched as Viserys paced the length of the room. 

“What were you thinking?” Viserys said, but before (Y/N) could form an answer he spoke again. “You are a Prince of the House Targaryen, the heir to Runestone! Sneaking out at night? You could’ve been taken, or worse killed!” 

“I wouldn’t have been killed, uncle.” (Y/N) said, indignant at the thought that he would be killed by some random attacker in Fleabottom. It was the wrong thing to say as his uncle seethed further. 

“No?” Viserys spat. “Have you seen yourself, (Y/N)? You are covered in dirt and blood. What am I supposed to tell your father when he returns? That I allowed his only son to escape my watch and injure himself as he whored around Fleabottom?” 

“I think he’d be thrilled at the thought actually.” (Y/N) said, “But I wasn’t whoring, I just wanted a break. I am not used to the city, uncle. I missed the fresh air.” 

His uncle deflated at his words, sighing to himself. “If you had just told me-” 

“You would’ve sent me to the woods with at least four guards. I wanted to go alone.” 

The doors burst open as (Y/N) finished his sentence, but it was not the maester who entered the room but Rhaneyra. She was panting as if she’d run to his room. Rhaenyra looked to her father first and then to (Y/N), and when they made eye contact her jaw dropped. 

“What have you done?” (Y/N) laughed at her words. She approached him, face flickering between disgust at his mud-covered clothes, and worry at the blood on his face. 

“Rhaenyra-” Viserys started but his heir waved him off, grabbing a cloth from the water bowl on (Y/N)’s desk. His uncle sighed at Rhaenyra’s actions, turning to (Y/N). “We have not finished with this conversation, and I will be doubling your guard.” 

(Y/N) sighed, watching as his uncle left the room letting the chamber doors closer with a slam behind him. Rhaenyra approached, beginning to wipe the grime off his face. Her movements were harsh with anger, and (Y/N) winced as the cold rag made contact with the cuts on his face. 

“Tell me what happened.” Rhaenyra said, her tone leaving no room for argument. 

“I snuck out of the keep.” 

“I am aware of that.” Rhaenyra said. “The whole keep is aware of that as a matter of fact. I want to know who injured you.” 

“No one injured me.” (Y/N) said, and Rhaenyra paused her washing of his face at the honesty in his tone. 

“What do you mean?” 

“A dragon claimed me.” 

“You claimed a dragon?” 

“No,” (Y/N) said, wincing internally at how ridiculous he must sound. “I did not claim it, it claimed me.” 

“A dragon is not an it.” Rhaenyra chastised, swatting him on the shoulder. “Which dragon?” 

(Y/N) had not thought that far. Truthfully he knew little of his father’s family history, Maester Pate always cuffed him when he adamantly refused to study the books. He knew nothing of the dragon that found him last night, except that it was more stubborn than himself if such a thing was possible. 

“I do not know.” (Y/N) admitted. “It was bronze, like my house's sigil, and huge. I felt like a babe as it towered over me.” 

“Bronze?” Rhaenyra froze, eyes widening. 

“Yes.” 

Rhaenyra’s face broke out into a grin. “That is Vermithor.” 

“The dragon missing from Dragonstone?” 

“Yes, our great-grandfather Jaehaerys was his rider once.” Rhaenyra seemed ecstatic at the news, but (Y/N) could not help the fury that flared within him. It could be no coincidence that the dragon that left Dragonstone upon his father’s arrival on the island would claim him. Rhaenyra seemed to notice his worsening mood and frowned. “You do not seem happy.” 

“A dragon is the last thing I want, Rhaenyra.” (Y/N) said. “I am not like you, I do not take pride in being a Targaryen.” 

Rhaenyra drew away from him at his words, placing the dirty cloth back in the bowl of water. “I will make sure the maester finds his way to you, cousin.”

Rhaenyra was angry with him, that much (Y/N) was sure of. 

Since the morning he’d returned bloody and bruised and with a new dragon in tow, she had not spoken to him outside of their council visits, and even then her words were short and clipped. Once (Y/N) would have been grateful for his betrothed to show such contempt for him, the hope of a broken betrothal would have raised his spirits to new heights. But after weeks of enjoying Rhaenyra’s friendship, he could not bring himself to feel anything other than bored. 

While he still had little desire for a wedding, let alone one his father had arranged for him, he did wish for his betrothal to Rhaenyra to end. He did not love the girl more than anyone loved a friend, but perhaps one day he would bring himself to. She was comely enough for (Y/N) to admit his attraction toward her, and she was pleasant enough company that he would not mind being tied to her for the rest of his life. 

He had always known his marriage would be political, and was grateful that his intended was someone who understood him as much as Rhaenyra did. But he still feared that the quickness of their betrothal would forever stain their marriage, they did not love each other and probably would not for some time. 

Still, he could not have his future wife not speaking to him before their marriage was even official. 

The Dragonkeepers had sought him out a few days ago, claiming that Vermithor was restless and they had tried everything. He tried to tell them that he had no wish to properly claim the dragon and that they should just let him return to Dragonstone. Alas, it did not work that way and if (Y/N) continued to ignore their bond he would just cause Vermithor and himself more harm than necessary. 

So he made the lengthy trip up to the Dragonpit, without Rhaenyra this time. He made the trip every day until Vermithor was calm enough to be saddled and the Dragonkeepers determined his mastery of the dragon well enough to fly. He’d nearly fainted the first time Vermithor took off, but soon enough discovered that this was the fresh air he’d been dreaming of since leaving Runestone. 

He tried to keep his distance from the dragon, telling himself he was doing this only because it seemed he had no choice, but as the weeks passed on he found himself looking forward to his daily lessons with Dragonkeepers. 

Rhaenyra had begun talking to him again when she learned of his lesson, most likely from his father, and he was so relieved to have his friend back that he didn’t bother holding a grudge against the girl.

Her first wish, demand more like, upon their reacquaintance was to go flying. (Y/N) had mused that they’d done that before but Rhaenyra just rolled her eyes and insisted. This time (Y/N) would no longer be a spectator on the ground as she had her fun, he would be joining her in the skies. 

He was nervous on their ride up to the Dragonpit. Vermithor had become considerably more docile than when he first arrived at the Dragonpit, but there were still days that (Y/N) feared for the safety of those unfortunate enough to bear the dragon’s scorn. 

He watched anxiously as Vermithor crawled out from the Dragonpit, tilting his head side to side in search of his rider. (Y/N) approached him, laughing quietly to himself as the dragon pushed his snout into (Y/N)’s chest. He whispered calming words in his ancestral tongue, informing the dragon that they had a guest and he must behave.

When Vermithor stilled (Y/N) held his hand out to Rhaenyra, much like she had done when introducing him to Syrax. She approached the dragon slowly, looking up at him in awe. 

(Y/N) remembered that this was her great-grandfather’s dragon; she'd probably grew up on stories of Vermithor as much as she had his rider. 

(Y/N) pressed her hand against Vermithor’s nose, whispering calming words to the dragon as he huffed. After what felt like an eternity of anxious waiting, Vermithor calmed, blinking slowly at his rider’s betrothed. He heard Rhaenyra laugh next to him and he turned to catch her eye. She was still looking up at his dragon in awe. 

“You’ve done very well with little training.” Rhaenyra said, rubbing her hands down Vermithor’s snout. 

“Perhaps I am more Targaryen than I wish to be.” (Y/N) smiled at his betrothed, and Rhaenyra just nodded her head, smiling at him.

[ragingbookdragon]

Ain't No Sense In Closing The Gate

Tyler Owens x Reader One-Shot

Word Count: 1.2K Warnings: Angst

Author's Note: My mom made me watch Twisters and all I know is that I want to bang Glen Powell like a door in a tornado. Enjoy.

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

She sat at the bar, nursing the glass of brandy that seemed to mock her with every swirl of amber. Laughter and conversation flowed behind her, but she sat with her back to it, more focused on the lull of liquid. She tugged her hat down lower over her furrowed brows, a stemming anger and yearning ache in her chest that seemed to rise like bile in her throat every time she heard his laughter echo from the pool table. She’d been so stupid. So foolish to spend all this time chasing him when he’d never even noticed, hell, she hadn’t even noticed until he’d found greener pastures.

“Can I sit with you?”

She looked up, barely managing to suppress the scowl when she saw Kate standing there.

“Yeah,” she muttered, gesturing vaguely to the stool beside her, and watched as Kate sat down and ordered a gin and tonic.

They sat in silence for a few moments, neither really wanting to engage with each other until Kate cleared her throat and admitted, “I get the feeling that you don’t like me very much.”

“It’s not for a lack of trying,” she replied, taking a sip of her brandy, then sat her drink down. “I don’t like you,” she added. “But not for the reasons you think I do.”

Kate’s brows furrowed. “Did I do something to you that made you not like me?”

“No.”

“…then why?”

Laughter peeled from the pool table and they both looked over, watching as Tyler put Boone in a headlock and noogied him. It suddenly hit Kate at that moment and she looked down at the bar.

“Oh…” was all she murmured.

It made her blood boil.

“Don’t do that shit,” she scowled. “God, it’s so fucking annoying when—just,” she inhaled and exhaled. “It’s fine. He deserves to be happy. You both do.”

“I didn’t mean—”

“Kate,” she interrupted and looked at her beneath that big Texas brim. “I’ve spent my entire life chasing Tyler Owen’s heart. I’ve done everything I ever thought would make him look at me the way it took you literal days to make him look at you.” She let out a heavy sigh. “I don’t hate you. But I can’t say I’m fond of you either.”

Kate pursed her lips and nodded. “For what it’s worth…I think the two of you would be beautiful together.”

“Thanks,” she muttered with a sardonic smile. “But I’d rather him be with you.”

“Why?” she asked. “I thought…”

“I do, but I also recognize when a man’s heart is truly set on something. And…” she looked at Kate, really looked at her, the way her eyes were gentle, nothing like her own, hardened from years of chasing storms and steering cattle. “He needs a woman like you.” She sipped her brandy again. “I know when a horse needs to run. Ain’t no reason in closing the gate.”

Kate felt her own heart ache for the woman’s heartbreak. “I don’t know if it makes a difference, but I would like to be friends with you.” She didn’t let the woman’s arched brow and seemingly look of disgust deter her. “You’re amazing. And gorgeous. And funny, and—”

“Careful, Kate,” she murmured. “Making me think you’re into me too.”

Kate’s laughter bubbled from her without realizing it as her cheeks dusted pink.

She smiled tightly. “Keep him in line, yeah?” she asked, sliding a twenty on the bar before she downed the rest of her brandy and stood from the bar.

“Wait, what do you mean?” Kate replied, turning on the stool. “Aren’t you coming with us?”

“Nah,” she said. “I’ve gotta go home.”

Kate’s expression saddened. “I don’t want you to leave because of me,” she expressed. “Really, I don’t want you to leave.”

“I’m not,” she answered. “But…I’m getting to old to be chasing storms, men…” she reached out and placed a hand on Kate’s shoulder. “Sometimes, it’s best to listen when home is calling.”

As she pulled away, Kate hurriedly reached out and took her hand. “Will you ever come back?” she tried for a hopeful smile. “We’ll…we’ll all miss you.”

She nodded. “Maybe a visit or two in a few years, yeah?”

Kate nodded and let her hand go, watching as she weaved through the patrons of the bar, not stopping to say goodbye to the others as she disappeared through the wooden doors and into the parking lot.

***

She re-adjusted the duffel bag in the back of her black Dodge, setting it snugly behind her seat before she pushed the front back, dropped her hat in the driver’s seat, and stood straight. Her eyes drifted up to the stars above in the Oklahoma sky. It was practically the same clear view she saw back South, no clouds, no pollution, just bright stars blinking back at her.

“Leaving without saying goodbye?”

His voice startled her and she jumped a bit as she looked back, watching Tyler walk over to her.

“Road’s long to the mountains,” she said, tugging on the Carhart sweatshirt over her head.

Tyler smiled at her. “That it is. Ten hours, right?”

She looked at him. “What do you want, Tyler?”

His gaze turned solemn and he stepped up to her. “You’re leaving because of me.”

“Now that’s the most egotistical BS I’ve ever heard you say,” she laughed. “And I’ve heard you be egotistical before.”

“Pretty girl,” he started lowly, and she felt her insides melt before she inhaled sharply.

“Tyler, stop.”

“No, I want—”

“It doesn’t matter, okay,” she said. “It’s okay.”

He frowned, feet shifting in the dirt of the parking lot. “I didn’t know.”

“You did,” she replied. “You just…wished you didn’t.”

His gaze met hers. “I never meant to hurt you, pretty girl.” He reached up, knuckles gently grazing her cheek and she knew in her heart this was the only love she’d ever get from the man in the way she wanted.

She blinked furiously at the tears in her eyes and, unable to stop herself, leaned into his touch. “I know,” she whispered, throat tight with unspoken affection and desire.

Tyler took another step towards her, cupping her cheek in his hand.

“Tyler,” she stressed and he let out a low hum deep in his throat as he brushed his nose against hers.

“Let me,” he whispered in that smooth drawl. “Let me make it better.”

“Please, don’t,” she begged. “Tyler, please,” tears dampened her lashes. “Don’t do this to me.” She felt his lips almost brush against hers. “Tyler, I’m not…I won’t be strong enough to let go if you do.”

His jaw tightened, muscle twitching as he pressed his forehead into hers, and exhaled slowly. “Okay,” he said softly. “Okay, pretty girl.” He pulled back enough to look into her eyes, his own a mix of regret and pain. “Text me when you get home?”

She swallowed hard and nodded, every fiber in her screaming as she pulled herself away from him. “I will.”

He watched as she climbed into her truck, the window rolled down and he stepped up to it. “Will you ever come back?” he smiled sadly. “Awfully lonely without you chasing with us.”

With me.

Her eyes met his once more as she roared the engine to life. “So long, cowboy,” she mused and rolled the window up, leaving him in a whirl of dust.

[magical-reid]

The Mark of Us

Paring: Draco Malfoy x Reader

Word Count: 900

Prompt: 20: I could see the worst parts of you and still think you are the most beautiful person I’ve met.”

Summary: In the cold, shadowed Room of Requirement, Draco Malfoy confronts his darkest self, tormented by his past and the weight of the Dark Mark. Despite his self-loathing, the reader refuses to abandon him, offering unconditional support, and declaring that even in his worst moments, he is still the most beautiful person they've ever met.

The Room of Requirement had conjured itself into a cold, dimly lit space tonight, its walls echoing the weight of the secrets it had witnessed. The usual warm, inviting glow was gone, replaced by shadows that flickered faintly with the low fire burning in a corner. You stood near the doorway, watching as Draco paced with restless energy, his back hunched under the invisible weight he carried.

He hadn’t said much when he’d dragged you here, his hand gripping yours with enough force to make your fingers ache. His silence, normally icy and calculating, was now fractured and sharp, like he was holding something inside that might rip him apart.

“You shouldn’t be here,” he said suddenly, his voice rough and flat, the words slicing through the tense quiet.

“Then why did you bring me?” you asked, your tone steady despite the storm building in your chest.

He stopped pacing but didn’t turn to face you. Instead, his head tilted forward, blond hair falling over his eyes. His hands hung at his sides, fingers twitching as if they couldn’t decide whether to curl into fists or stay open.

“Because I’m selfish,” he said after a long pause, his voice barely above a whisper. “Because I wanted—” He cut himself off, shaking his head violently. “Forget it. You shouldn’t have come.”

“Draco.” You stepped closer, heart pounding as you tried to decipher the emotions rolling off him like crashing waves. “Whatever it is, you can tell me. You don’t have to—”

“Stop,” he barked, spinning around. The sheer anger and desperation in his eyes made you take a step back. “You don’t understand, alright? You think I’m someone I’m not. You look at me like—like I’m still worth something. But I’m not. I’m nothing. Worse than nothing.”

You blinked, stunned by the venom in his voice, but even more by the tears that threatened to spill over. “You’re not nothing, Draco. Why would you—”

“Because I’ve done things,” he hissed, his voice breaking, “things that you can’t fix with kind words and blind loyalty.” His breathing was ragged, his chest rising and falling as if he’d run a marathon. “You don’t know what it’s like to—to hate yourself so much that you can’t even look in the mirror. To know every choice you’ve made has only made things worse for the people you care about.”

“Then tell me,” you urged, stepping closer again. “Let me help you—”

“You can’t!” he exploded, yanking up his sleeve.

The Dark Mark was stark against his pale skin, black and malevolent, twisting like a brand that refused to let him go. It seemed alive in the dim light, a cruel reminder of what he’d been forced to become.

Your breath caught, not in fear, but in heartbreak. Draco’s arm fell to his side, his sleeve still bunched around his elbow as he looked away, jaw clenched so tightly you thought it might crack.

“There,” he said bitterly. “That’s who I am. A coward. A Death Eater. My father’s son.”

He turned his back on you again, his hands trembling. “Do you still think I’m worth saving now? Or do you finally see what everyone else sees?” His voice dropped, hollow and cold. “A monster.”

Your heart shattered at the raw pain in his words. You could see the way his shoulders shook, how he was trying so hard to hold himself together even as he unraveled. The boy who always prided himself on control was breaking right in front of you, and you refused to let him fall apart alone.

You stepped forward, gently placing your hand on his arm. He flinched at the touch but didn’t pull away. Slowly, you turned him to face you. His face was pale, his eyes red-rimmed and filled with a kind of despair that made your throat tighten.

“Draco,” you said softly, your voice steady even though your own tears threatened to spill. “I could see the worst parts of you and still think you’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever met.”

He froze, his breath hitching. “You don’t mean that,” he whispered, his tone almost pleading, as if he couldn’t bear the weight of your words.

“I do.” You cupped his cheek, forcing him to look at you even as his eyes darted away, ashamed. “You think this Mark defines you, but it doesn’t. I see you, Draco. Not the choices you regret, not the mistakes you’ve made. You.”

His lips parted, but no words came out. His eyes shimmered with unshed tears, the walls he’d built so carefully over the years crumbling with every moment you held his gaze.

“I don’t deserve you,” he croaked, his voice breaking completely.

“Maybe not,” you said, your lips quirking into the smallest, softest smile. “But you have me anyway.”

That was all it took. He let out a choked sound somewhere between a sob and a laugh as he reached for you, his arms pulling you close like you were the only solid thing keeping him from drowning. His face buried in your shoulder, and for a long time, the only sound in the room was his quiet, broken cries and the soothing words you whispered in his ear.

“I’ve got you,” you murmured, your hand threading gently through his hair. “You don’t have to do this alone anymore. I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.”

His grip on you tightened, and for the first time in what felt like forever, he let himself believe it might be true.

[sanemistar]

★ a messy breakup

contents ★ toji x fem!reader, angst, established relationship ends with a messy breakup. 0.6k+ wc.

back: toji m.list ★ jjk m.list

for quite some time now, your relationship with toji has been pretty shaky and intense. the two of you have been very on and off, breaking up only to get back together shortly after. with arguments between you and him becoming more frequent, mainly due to his lack of responsibility and his gambling habits which lead him to make poor financial decisions. but because you still love him, you have been telling yourself that you can handle it, and that things will get better eventually as he keeps promising you that he’ll stop and change. but he wasn’t able to keep any of his promises to you. not a single one, and you reach a point where you’re just done with hearing empty words and promises.

you decide to put an end to this once and for all.

“toji, we need to talk.” you sternly say and he walks over to you nonchalantly. you bite your lower lip seeing his careless attitude, questioning your own feelings for him. has this really been the man you loved this whole time? and for the first time, you feel like you’re with someone you don’t know. because the man next to you right now can’t be the one you fell in love with.

“why the serious face, babe? you know you’ll get wrinkles if you keep frowning like that.” he asks sarcastically, and you feel anger boiling inside you.

“can’t you just be serious for a second? you know what’s going on.” you angrily reply back, not taking any more of his carelessness. you let a heavy sigh escape your lips as you take a deep breath. you’ve made up your mind.

“you know what? i’m done. with everything.” you pause momentarily before you proceed.

“for years now, i’ve endured so much. i’ve been paying all the bills and managing our finances for the last few years when you’ve been wasting your money on gambling. i’ve been trying to convince myself that you would change and be better for the sake of our future together, but you never did. i can’t take it anymore, let’s break up, for real this time.” you finally say it, you can’t believe you really said that you wanted to break up with toji, the man you once thought was the love of your life and the one that you wanted to spend the rest of your life with.

at this point, you expect him to ask you to change your mind and give him another chance like he always does. but to your surprise, his reaction is different this time around, like he doesn’t even care anymore.

“yeah, we should have called it quits years ago.” toji’s words pierce through your heart like a cold, sharp knife. to hear him let go of you without a second thought and with absolutely no hesitation has never been something you expected. this relationship has meant nothing to him now, has it?

you’re hurt, it really hurts to end things with someone you’ve spent so much time with. but you don’t allow yourself to show any signs of weakness in front of him, you don’t allow him to see you cry over him no matter how much you really want to.

“you’re right, i shouldn’t have given you all these chances back then.” you say.

“maybe.” he mumbles under his breath and you watch him walk to your now previously shared bedroom to pack his things and leave, which should be quick since he doesn’t have that much anyways.

once he’s done with the packing, he silently leaves just like that. not even looking back once last time, nothing. just then, you cry your heart out. releasing all the stress and tension that has been building up inside you this entire time as you mourn the end of a relationship that once was everything to you.

and for the first time in your life, you experience what it feels like to have your heart broken by the one you loved the most.

𝜗𝜚 taglist: @unriding @lxnarphase @sylusdoll @satorurize @itoshivy @17020 @luv-lies @suguru-getos @kasukuna @hellokittyish @gojoscinnamonroll

[damnfeelings09]

The way I loved you - Shadow's version

*A.N: sorry, I got lost reading some ff

"He is sensible and so incredible And all my single friends are jealous."

"Look at these beautiful flowers!" said Amy. "You have to tell me your secret, Sonic isn't the most romantic guy, ya' know" You were sitting in the living room of your apartment; it was small but cozy. There were plants in every corner, and despite the little time you had to settle in, you felt comfortable in this new house.

"And it's like, I couldn't ask for anything better," you said with a shy smile.

"That's fabulous! I'm so happy you gave yourself this chance... you know, since..."

"I know, I feel good, but I want to take it slow."

"And I feel perfectly fine."

When Amy left, you let yourself fall back onto your bed, in fact you didn't really feel fine. You missed him, you missed every moment. You couldn't blame Amy, you were too good at hiding your feelings. Only someone who knew you perfectly would notice you weren’t... happy. Actually, you didn't feel anything at all.

"... And it's 2 a.m., and I'm cursing your name. So in love that you act insane, and that's the way I loved you."

Every night, just before closing your eyes to sleep, you could feel his breath, his presence hadn't left you for a second in the last three months. Even though you didn't see him anymore, it was as if his memory was buried in your mind, like his image was tattooed on your heart, a mark you couldn't erase, one you didn’t want to erase. It hadn't been long since you met Dylan. He was actually nice, you'd bumped into him at the cafeteria, and he accidentally spilled your latte. After a thousand apologies, he offered to buy you a new one. You’d been hanging out three times, counting today, but when you told your friends about it, they were more than happy to see you back in the game.

"He respects my space, and never makes me wait, and he calls exactly when he says he will."

You checked your latest messages. Dylan had written "Goodnight and have fun, beautiful," after you mentioned you wouldn’t see him and would instead spend time with the girls.

"He's charming and endearing, and I'm comfortable."

"I'm comfortable," you said aloud, but when you were alone, hundreds of memories haunted you. Memories of when you had been so happy, loved like you never thought possible, cried, and suffered, but you did it all by his side. There he was again, always occupying your thoughts. At 2 p.m., when you had lunch, and again at 2 a.m., when you woke up startled by nightmares where you lost him over and over. You turned your phone back on, scrolling down to the bottom of your messages, and found his conversation. You read again the last message he had sent you: "I'll be late," with the date on the day you decided to move on with your life without him.

"He caused all of this. So… why do I feel like this?" you thought. You couldn't stop looking at the screen, hoping, wishing there was something more, that he had done something more. Suddenly, his status changed, he was online, and dots began to appear on the screen. He was typing. After three months of silence, he had finally reached out to you… your heart raced so fast you felt like it would burst out of your chest. The excitement, anxiety, fear, and anger were trying to take control of your body all at once. But when the dots disappeared, and his status went offline again, everything collapsed.

"Breaking down and coming undone, it's a rollercoaster kind of rush. And I never knew I could feel that much, and that's the way I loved you."

The next morning, you bumped into Dylan on your way to work. You talked about the weather, your outing with the girls, and his job. Dylan loved his job as an IT agent for GUN and loved to talk endlessly, something you weren’t used to. You limited yourself to nodding and smiling while he told you about the latest update he'd made to the criminal profiles platform at GUN.

"He can´t see the smile I'm faking and my heart's not breaking 'cause I'm not feeling anything at all."

As you walked through the GUN facilities and passed by the training center, memories flooded your mind. This time, you both had fought, but you didn't quite remember why...

You walked out of the training center, both fists clenched until your claws dug into your palms. You were upset, he hadn't respected the agreement to let you work, and his only defense had been, "You're not strong enough for this task, sorry." Once again, underestimating your abilities, even though, thanks to your effort, the last two missions you'd worked on together had gone wonderfully, and your colleagues praised your persistence. Of course, he was the team captain, and you didn’t expect different treatment just because you were his girlfriend; you simply expected him to start noticing your potential.

"And you were wild and crazy. Just so frustrating, intoxicating, complicated. Got away by some mistake and now..."

"Stupid hedgehog," you muttered under your breath as the raindrops began to soak your body. The wind soon picked up, and what started as a small breeze had turned into a storm. You had to turn back, or you'd end up sick, and they'd send you home. Just as you were about to go back, you heard someone calling your name. It was him, standing a few meters away, his dark fur soaked, and every quill dripping. His chest fur, once fluffy, now seemed flat due to the water.

"If you're here to scold me again, keep it to yourself. I was about to go back." In a second, the hedgehog was right in front of you.

"I'm sorry," you heard him murmur. "Don’t disappear like that again." Something in his voice made your wall of anger break. There, in the rain, with his face drenched and his red eyes, now dimmed, just inches from yours, made him look so... vulnerable. "No… I didn’t mean that you can’t do it, it’s just that… thinking of you, alone, out there… no, no..." he stammered, looking away. You had never seen him like this. You were so used to his strong, disciplined personality. Worry was not a word you associated with him, but now you realized he was worried about you.

"Hey," you said, gently caressing his face. "It's okay, I’m here, and I’ll be fine because I’ll have the best captain to guide me" you smiled at him.

"The best captain?" he asked, his crimson eyes regaining their sparkle as he raised an eyebrow.

"Of course! Sonic doesn’t do things as badly as you think, and... we have you too," you joked, earning a snort from him. You smiled as he closed the distance between you, pulling you into an embrace. The surprise was evident in your eyes. You knew he hated public displays of affection, especially at work. He didn't want people thinking there was favoritism towards you. He tightened his embrace as he felt your body shivering because of the cold, moving his face close to yours placing a soft kiss that contained everything he couldn't express.

"I miss screaming and fighting and kissing in the rain and It's 2 a.m., and I'm cursing your name. I'm so in love that I acted insane, and that's the way I loved you."

"Hey! Moon!" someone called, snapping you out of your thoughts. As you returned to the present, you found yourself staring at the training center. Dylan had his hand in front of your face, trying to get your attention. "Where did you go?"

"Ah... it's nothing," you said, scratching the back of your head, your cheeks still flushed from the memory. "See you later, Dylan." You walked towards the main offices, trying to avoid making eye contact with anyone else and trying to avoid running into him. When you reached the elevator, you heard a ring—a new notification. You quickly pulled out your phone and found a message. It was a simple interaction, just 3 words put together, but it was enoght to make your heart begin to beat again, as if waking up from a deep sleep.

Shadow: Hey

"Never knew I could feel that much and that's the way I loved you."

[rogueandflame]

The Diplomat (Part Two)

Hi my angels!

Here is part two to The Diplomat , this part is the sexy part, so reader's discretion is advised. I had so much fun writing this, and am definitely lining up more nasty one shots to write. :) (ñuha zaldrītsos means "my little dragon" in High Valyrian)

✨My Masterlist✨

WC: 3.8k

Warnings: 18+. dubcon, violent anger, dominance, oral (f!recieving), sex (p in v), multiple positions, fluids in mouth(s), lil bit of praise kink, lil bit of breeding kink, Daemon Targaryen, no use of y/n, fem!reader

Daemon Targaryen x Wife!Reader

MDNI!!!

The tension between you and Daemon had stretched thin, the days following the reconciliation ceremony feeling like a fragile truce. The whispers had started, first in the shadows and then louder, until they rang in Daemon's ears, carried on the tongues of servants and lords alike. He had done his best to ignore it, to focus on the duties of the City Watch, to retreat into the work that allowed him to pretend the storm brewing within his chest didn’t exist.

But it was no use.

You were standing by the window in your chambers when the door slammed open, the force of it shaking the wooden frame. His eyes, wild with fury, locked onto you instantly. The air between you crackled with the intensity of the moment, his anger an almost physical presence. His hand gripped the doorframe, knuckles white, and his breath came fast, his chest heaving with the weight of what he had heard.

“Do you think me a fool?” His voice was low, dangerous. He took a step forward, his boots thudding heavily on the floor. “I know what they’ve been saying. I know what you’ve done.”

You didn’t flinch, didn’t back away. You remained still, though the fire in his gaze burned through you like a brand. You had expected this confrontation, knew it would come, though you had hoped to delay it for just a little longer. The look on his face was one of a man betrayed, though it was you who had been forced to act without his knowledge.

Daemon took another step toward you, his fists clenched at his sides. “You think you can control everything? The Blackwoods, the Brackens... you made a fool of me.”

You met his gaze, your expression calm, as though the tempest raging before you was nothing more than a mild storm. “I did what had to be done.”

His eyes narrowed, a sneer twisting his lips. “What had to be done?” He spat the words, stepping closer until the heat of his anger seemed to suffocate the space between you. “You went behind my back. You thought I would be too ignorant to see your schemes, to feel your manipulation in every move?”

You didn’t respond immediately. The silence in the room was thick, heavy, suffocating. His fists tightened at his sides, his jaw clenched in rage as he waited for you to explain yourself.

“What were you trying to prove, hmm?” he growled, voice low but seething. “That I’m not capable? That you, with your little games, can do better than me?”

His words hit like a slap, and you finally allowed yourself to speak, your voice cutting through the thick tension with the precision of a blade. “You’re too blinded by your pride to see what needs to be done, Daemon. Your anger would have destroyed everything, and I wasn’t about to let that happen.”

Daemon’s face twisted, fury turning to something darker, more dangerous. He took another step closer, and you could feel the heat of his breath on your face. “You think you know better than me?” His words were a growl, raw and vicious. “You, who’s hidden behind your little schemes, who’s used the power of my name like a dagger in the dark?”

“Don’t make this about me,” you replied, your voice a whisper, but it carried the weight of everything you had to say. “This was about keeping the peace. You didn’t want to listen to anyone but yourself. I did what was necessary.”

His hand shot out, gripping your arm with such force that it burned, his nails biting into your skin. His face was inches from yours, his breath ragged as he stared down at you, his anger a storm raging in his chest. “Necessary?” he spat. “You’ve humiliated me.”

The words stung, but you didn’t flinch. You let him seethe, let him vent the fury that had been boiling over. You knew it would pass—just as the storm always did. But in this moment, the words he spoke, the anger that poured from him, felt like it might consume you both.

You tilt your head slightly, your gaze steady, and your voice, soft yet cutting, drips with a kind of quiet venom. “If you were half the man your brother is, none of this would have been necessary.”

The words hang in the air between you, like a challenge he’s powerless to take back. The comparison to Viserys, a man Daemon has always despised, would wound him deeply. It’s not just an insult; it’s a reminder that his volatile nature has cost him the very thing he craves—respect.

Daemon's grip on your arm tightened painfully, his eyes flashing with a dangerous mix of rage and hurt. For a moment, you thought he might strike you, his free hand clenching into a fist at his side. But instead, he released you suddenly, as if your skin had burned him.

He took a step back, his chest heaving with ragged breaths. When he spoke again, his voice was low and cold. "You dare compare me to him? To that weak, indecisive fool who sits on the throne?"

You stood your ground, even as your heart raced. "At least Viserys knows how to rule without letting his temper destroy everything around him."

Daemon's laugh was bitter, bordering on manic. "And you think you're so clever, don't you? Playing your little games, thinking you can control everything from the shadows."

"I'm not trying to control everything, Daemon," you replied, your voice steady despite the tension crackling between you. "I'm trying to protect what matters. The realm, our family, you—"

"Protect me?" Daemon snarled, his eyes flashing dangerously. "I don't need your protection. I don't need you meddling in affairs that don't concern you."

You took a step forward, closing the distance he had created. "Everything that happens in this realm concerns me. I am your wife, the mother of your child. Did you think I would stand idly by while you tore everything apart with your rage?"

Daemon's jaw clenched, his hands balling into fists at his sides. "You went behind my back. You conspired with Viserys, made decisions without me. How am I supposed to trust you now?"

"Trust?" you said softly, your voice steady despite the turmoil in your heart. "This was never about trust, Daemon. It was about doing what needed to be done, what you refused to see."

His jaw clenched, a muscle twitching beneath his skin. "And you think that gives you the right to go behind my back? To make me look weak in front of the entire court?"

You took a step closer, your gaze never wavering from his. "You made yourself look weak the moment you let your temper dictate your actions. I did what I had to do to protect this family, to protect the realm."

Daemon's eyes flashed dangerously at your words, a storm of emotions raging behind them. His hand shot out, gripping your arm again, but this time there was a desperation in his touch that belied his anger.

"Protect the realm?" he spat, his voice low and venomous. "You think I don't want to protect it? Everything I've done has been for this family, for our legacy!"

You didn't flinch from his grip, meeting his gaze steadily. "And yet your actions threaten to tear it all apart. Your pride, your anger - they blind you to the consequences."

Daemon’s grip remained firm, the tension in the air thickening with each passing second. He leaned in closer, his lips brushing against your ear, his breath hot and rough.

"You think you can outsmart me, control everything from the shadows?" he murmured, his voice low and dangerous.

His free hand found its way to the back of your neck, fingers threading through your hair, tugging you closer. His touch was a confusing mixture of dominance and a deeper, unspoken hunger.

The raw intensity of his presence, the heat of his body pressed so close to yours, made it impossible to think clearly. The anger in his eyes hadn't quite faded, but it was now laced with something darker, more primal, as though his fury had been redirected into a desperate need to prove something. His thumb traced the curve of your jaw, the roughness of his touch contrasting with the lingering softness of your skin.

It was almost as if he were testing your limits again—not with words or anger now, but with an entirely different kind of power. His movements were slow, deliberate, the control he wielded over you shifting from violent to something more intimate, dangerous in a new way. You could feel the struggle in his chest, the tension still there, but now it was tangled with a strange pull, one that drew you closer despite everything.

In the space between your pounding heartbeats, you searched his eyes, looking for some semblance of the man you once knew. The Daemon who had swept you off your feet, who had loved you with a fierceness that both terrified and exhilarated you. But in the depths of his stormy gaze, you found only shadows of that man, clouded by rage and feeling betrayed.

"Daemon," you began, unsure if it was a plea or a warning.

His response was to crush his lips against yours in a bruising kiss, his other hand still tangled in your hair. You gasped into his mouth, caught off guard by the ferocity of his need. His tongue forced its way inside your mouth, claiming every inch of you as though he feared it would be taken away.

The kiss was ferocious, almost punishing. Daemon's grip on your hair tightened as he deepened the kiss, his other hand sliding down to grasp your waist and pull you flush against him. There was no tenderness in his touch, only raw need and the lingering anger that still simmered beneath the surface.

You found yourself responding despite your better judgment, your hands coming up to grip his shoulders. The familiar heat of his body against yours ignited something primal within you, a stark contrast to the tension that had been building between you for days.

Daemon broke the kiss abruptly, his chest heaving as he stared down at you with dark, stormy eyes. "Is this what you wanted?" he growled, his voice low and dangerous. "To have me at your mercy?" Before you could respond, he ripped the front of your gown open, thread and beads flying everywhere.

You gasped as the cool air hit your exposed skin, Daemon's hands rough as they roamed over your body. His touch was possessive, demanding, as if he were trying to reclaim something he felt he had lost.

"Daemon," you breathed, your voice caught between desire and uncertainty.

He silenced you with another bruising kiss, backing you up until you hit the wall. His body pressed against yours, trapping you between the cold stone and the heat of his form. You could feel the hardness of his arousal against your thigh, a stark reminder of the passion that still burned between you despite everything.

Daemon's lips moved to your neck, biting and sucking hard enough to leave marks. His hands gripped your hips, fingers digging in almost painfully. "You think you can control me?" he growled against your skin. "You think you know better than I do?" You couldn’t contain your moans as he left searing kisses on your exposed skin. The sound of you only sent Daemon further into a frenzy. His hand slipped between your legs, hiking up your skirts. You moaned into his mouth as his fingers found your wet heat.He stroked you roughly, making your hips buck against his hand. Daemon's eyes were dark with lust and lingering anger as he watched your reactions.

Daemon's fingers moved against you with a desperate urgency, his touch rough and demanding. You gasped, your head falling back against the wall as pleasure coursed through your body. Despite the anger and hurt between you, your body responded to his familiar touch.

"Look at me," Daemon growled, his free hand gripping your chin and forcing your gaze to meet his. His eyes were dark, stormy with a mix of desire and lingering fury. "Is this what you wanted? To have this much power over me?"

You couldn't find the words to respond, caught between the intensity of his gaze and the sensations he was drawing from your body. Your hips rocked against his hand, seeking more of that exquisite friction.

With a low growl, Daemon withdrew his hand, leaving you aching and wanting. In one swift motion, he spun you around, pressing you face-first against the cold stone wall.

Daemon pressed himself against you from behind, his body hard and unyielding. You could feel the heat of him through your clothes, his breath hot on your neck as he spoke.

"You've played your games," he growled, his voice low and dangerous in your ear. "Now it's my turn."

His hands were rough as they hiked up your skirts, exposing you to the cool air. You gasped as he pressed himself against you, the hardness of his arousal evident through his breeches.

"Daemon," you breathed.

He responded by nipping at your neck, his teeth scraping against your sensitive skin. "Don't speak," he commanded. "You've said enough."

You heard the rustle of fabric as he freed himself from his breeches. Then, without warning, he thrust into you in one hard stroke. You cried out in pleasure and his hand found the front of your throat.

The feeling of Daemon entering you so forcefully drew a gasp from your lips. His hand tightened slightly on your throat as he began to move, his thrusts hard and deep. There was no tenderness in his movements, only raw need and lingering anger.

You couldn't respond, overwhelmed by the sensations coursing through your body. The cold stone of the wall pressed against your cheek, a stark contrast to the heat of Daemon's body behind you. His free hand gripped your hip bruisingly tight as he drove into you again and again.

He turned you to face him once more, and a sudden shift sent a jolt through your body as Daemon's mouth replaced the feeling of his cock. His tongue laved over your sensitive flesh, drawing a gasping moan from your lips. Your legs trembled, barely able to support you as waves of pleasure washed over you.

Daemon's hands gripped your thighs, holding you in place as he devoured you with an almost feral intensity. His tongue delved deep, tasting every inch of you, while his nose brushed against your most sensitive spot. The contrast between his earlier roughness and this focused attention left you reeling.

You reached for him, your fingers tangling in his silver hair as you fought to stay upright. "Daemon," you breathed, his name like a prayer on your lips.

He growled against you, the vibrations sending shockwaves of pleasure through your core. His fingers dug into the soft flesh of your thighs. Your hands gripped his shoulders as you begged for mercy on your shaky legs.

Daemon's mouth continued its relentless assault, his tongue delving deep inside you before flicking against your most sensitive spot. Your legs trembled, threatening to give out as waves of pleasure crashed over you. His hands gripped your thighs tightly, holding you in place as he devoured you.

You cried out, your fingers tangling in his silver hair as you felt yourself nearing the edge. "Daemon, please," you gasped, unsure if you were begging him to stop or never cease.

He responded by redoubling his efforts, his tongue moving faster and more insistently against you. One of his hands left your thigh, his fingers finding your bud and stroking in tandem with his mouth.

The dual sensations were too much. With a keening cry, you came undone, your body shuddering as ecstasy washed over you. Daemon carried you to the bed, your body still trembling from the aftershocks of your release. He laid you down roughly, his eyes dark with a mixture of lust and lingering anger as he loomed over you. Without a word, he gripped your hips and flipped you onto your stomach, pulling you up onto your hands and knees.

You felt his body press against yours from behind, the heat of him searing through the thin fabric of your torn gown. His hand tangled in your hair, pulling your head back as he leaned in close to your ear.

“Tell me what you want, ñuha zaldrītsos,” he growled, his voice low and dangerous in your ear.

Your mind raced, caught between lingering anger and overwhelming desire. Part of you wanted to resist, to maintain some semblance of control. But another part craved his touch, his dominance, the raw passion that had always existed between you.

“You," you breathed, your voice barely above a whisper. "I want you, Daemon."

He chuckled darkly, the sound sending shivers down your spine. "Not good enough," he said, his free hand trailing down your side to grip your hip. "Be specific."

You felt your breath catch in your throat, torn between desire and the remnants of your earlier anger. Daemon's body was hot against yours, his grip on your hair unyielding. You could feel the hard length of him pressed against you, a reminder of his barely contained need.

"I want..." you began, your voice trembling slightly. "I want you inside me. I want to feel you, all of you."

Daemon's grip tightened, pulling your head back further. "And?" he prompted, his voice a low growl.

You swallowed hard, heat flooding your cheeks. "I want you to take me. To claim me. To remind me why I'm yours."

A low, satisfied chuckle rumbled in his chest. Without warning, he thrust into you in one hard stroke, burying himself to the hilt. You cried out, the sudden fullness sending shockwaves through your body.

Daemon set a punishing pace, his hips snapping against yours with each powerful thrust. His grip on your hair remained tight, holding your head back as he drove into you again and again. The room filled with the sounds of skin against skin and your breathless moans.

"Is this what you wanted?" Daemon growled, his voice rough with exertion and lingering anger. "To be reminded of who you belong to?"

You could only gasp in response, overwhelmed by the sensations coursing through your body. Daemon's free hand gripped your hip bruisingly tight, pulling you back to meet each thrust. The angle allowed him to hit that spot deep inside you that made you see stars.

"Answer me," he demanded, giving your hair a sharp tug.

"Yes," you managed to choke out between moans. "Yes, Daemon, please..."

Daemon's pace quickened, his thrusts becoming even more forceful. You could feel the tension building in your core, pleasure coiling tighter with each movement. His hand left your hip, snaking around to find your sensitive bud. His fingers circled it roughly, drawing a sharp cry from your lips.

"You're mine," he growled, his voice low and possessive in your ear. "No matter what games you play, what schemes you devise. You will always be mine."

His words, combined with the relentless assault on your senses, pushed you over the edge. You came with a keening cry, your body shuddering as waves of pleasure washed over you. Daemon didn't slow his pace, fucking you through your orgasm and drawing out your pleasure until it bordered on overstimulation.

With a final, powerful thrust, Daemon found his own release. He groaned, his hot seed coating every inch of your pulsing insides. Before you could take a breath, he flipped you once more to your back, and pushed his fingers inside of you. He wanted his seed to be buried inside your womb. As he retrieved his fingers, he brought them to your lips.

“Taste,” he commanded.

The room was spinning, but you didn't dare defy him. You parted your lips, and Daemon pressed his seed-covered fingers to your mouth. You closed your eyes, enjoying the tang of iron and salt that filled your senses.

"Mmm," Daemon purred, pleased with your submission. His grip on your hair loosened, allowing you to catch your breath. "That's my good girl."

You swallowed the evidence of his claim on you, the thick liquid coating your tongue.

Your heart was still pounding, body trembling from the intensity of what had just transpired. Daemon's weight pressed you into the mattress, his breath hot against your neck. For a long moment, neither of you spoke, the only sound in the room your ragged breathing.

Slowly, Daemon lifted his head to look at you. His eyes, which had been stormy with anger and lust, now held a mixture of satisfaction and lingering frustration. He studied your face intently, as if searching for something. His hand came up to cup your cheek, his touch gentler now as his thumb traced your lower lip.

"You drive me mad," he murmured, his voice low and husky. "In every way possible."

You gazed up at Daemon, your breath still coming in shallow pants. The intensity of his stare made your heart race, a mix of lingering desire and uncertainty coursing through you. His touch on your cheek was gentle now, a stark contrast to the roughness of moments before.

"Daemon," you whispered, unsure of what to say. The anger between you hadn't fully dissipated, but it had transformed into something else - a raw, primal energy that left you feeling both satisfied and vulnerable.

He leaned down, pressing his forehead against yours. His silver hair fell around your face like a curtain, shielding you both from the world outside. For a moment, you could almost forget the argument that had led to this, the schemes and secrets that had driven a wedge between you.

You couldn’t help but let out a sigh of relief and exhaustion. The wounds of your actions would take time to heal, but for now, the storm had passed once again.

The tension in the room slowly ebbed as you both lay there, bodies intertwined and breathing gradually steadying. Daemon's weight against you was both comforting and overwhelming, a reminder of the intensity that always existed between you. His fingers traced idle patterns on your skin, the gentleness of his touch a stark contrast to the roughness of moments before.

You turned your head slightly, meeting Daemon's gaze. His eyes, which had been stormy with anger and lust, now held a mixture of satisfaction and lingering frustration. The air between you felt heavy with unspoken words, the argument that had led to this moment still hanging over you both.

"Daemon," you began softly, unsure of how to bridge the gap that had formed between you.

He silenced you with a gentle kiss, his lips brushing against yours with a tenderness that made your heart ache. When he pulled back, Daemon's eyes searched yours, his expression softening slightly. 

"I know," he murmured, his voice low and husky. "We still have much to discuss."

You nodded, your hand coming up to cup his cheek. "We do," you agreed softly. "But perhaps... not right now."

[fantasylandloser]

Cry for Help

pairing: rafe cameron x reader

trigger warning: substance abuse/ drugs/ anxiety/ parental abuse

pt.2

You’d felt bad about avoiding Rafe. He was your bestfriend and you loved him, but sometimes he got in these terrible moods. He would be irrational and mean, sometimes violent, not towards you but inanimate objects. You’d also heard about the fights he’d been getting into all over the island.

He had been trying to get in contact with you for about two days and you had been ignoring him. As his mood swings got harder to deal with the more you worried about him, but his behavior had gotten downright dangerous and you knew you needed to protect yourself.

Today you decided you’d go talk to him finally, and ask him about it. You were nervous already knowing he wouldn’t react well however it had to be done.

“What?” He asked as opened his bedroom door, before realizing it was you. His eyes soften slightly at your flinched reaction of his gruff tone as you realize he’s already in a bad mood. 

“Hey.” You say, trying to gauge how he was feeling today. You knew it wasn’t good when he walked away, leaving the door open for you but not sparing you another glance.

“You’re not hiding from me anymore?” He asked, the sarcasm in his tone evident. You sigh at the fact that you were jumping right into it, as you walk into his room closing the door behind you.

“I wasn’t hiding from you.” You tell him, watching as he turned to look at you with a face that said he thought you were bullshitting. 

“I was taking some space because-” You start only to be interrupted by him chuckling to himself as he messes with whatever was in his bag..

“Taking some space.” He continued laughing, shaking his head to himself. Your frustration at his inability to take anything serious bubbles to the surface. You walked closer to him intending to grab the bag that he was so intrigued with and launching it across the room.

“Rafe I’m worried about y-” Your words get stuck in your throat as you notice the large amount of a white substance that you know isn’t sugar. “Rafe what the fuck?” You ask looking through the bag starting to connect the dots.

Rafe panics, yanking the bag away from you. “Don’t touch my shit.” He glares before turning away from you going to stash the bag somewhere else. 

“Why do you have all that?” Guilt crashed down on you in a second. You’d been avoiding him and he was struggling. You knew of course that Rafe did coke occasionally at parties. You even partook once before deciding it was way out of your league, but this was obviously beyond that. 

“Why do you think I have it?” He answers snarkily. He was unsure why but he felt embarrassed. If he really would have allowed himself to think about it he would have known it was because he hated disappointing you.But in front of his embarrassment just like it was in front of most of his feelings was anger. You never would have been disappointed if you just minded your business for once.

“Rafe, are you okay? You know you can talk to me?”  Sympathy? Pity. He didn’t want you pitying him.

“I’m fine.” He grunts, unwilling to face you. You’re silent for a second, but only a second before you ask another question, your voice so soft Rafe almost misses it.

“Is it the voices?” The way he says your name after you ask lets you know that you’re venturing into dangerous territory and for the first time after eleven years of friendship you don’t know what to do.

“I’m fine,” He repeats, firmer now. This time he looks at you and you finally see it. The glazed look in his eye. The way he just doesn’t look like himself anymore. 

“No you’re not.” You shake your head in disbelief, ashamed at yourself for not noticing earlier. You don’t even realize you’re pacing when Rafe sighs, throwing his head back because he knows another line of questions is coming.

“Where did you even get all that? How did you pay for it?” You knew Rafe had a few instances with his dad but you also knew whatever he did to get those drugs, he didn’t do with his money.

“A friend gave it to me, don't worry about it.” When you pinched the bridge of your nose Rafe rolled his eyes, placing a gentle arm around your shoulders. “Bug, there really isn’t anything to worry about.” He says softly and you have to hold in tears when you hear your childhood nickname. You know he’s trying to manipulate you but still you hug him back. 

“I’m so sorry.” You whisper. 

*******

You wanted to be swallowed up whole, with the way Rafe’s eyes were glaring into you. You’d truly never seen him so angry, especially not with you. You took as much time as you could to think it over but this was the only thing that made any sense, the only way to help him really. You knew he would hate you. You tried to prepare yourself for it but nothing ever would. 

You had told the only person Rafe truly respected. The one person he would listen to. His dad. Ward has assured you everything would be alright and that he’d get Rafe the best help he could but you didn’t know it would be like this. Ward wanted to handle this discreetly as possible, so he enlisted the help of a trusted private rehab facility that specializes in being discreet. Not only was it discreet it was far away. Very far from your understanding. 

When Rafe came home after his dad called, expecting some honorable task to help his father, and instead saw his family, his best friend and professional looking men he’d never seen before he looked at you immediately. You saw the blame, hatred and betrayal he felt and you almost wished you could take it all back, but what else could you do. Ask him nicely to stop doing coke? You didn’t know at this point.

“Rafe sit down.” Ward tells him gently. Rafe looked around cautiously, seeing if there was a way he could get out of this, but two men blocked every exit. 

“Nah.” He shook his head, feeling trapped and betrayed.

“Rafe you will not continue to embarrass me and this family! Sit down!” Ward yells and Rafe huffs an angry breath, but laughs to himself as well. 

“I’m the embarrassment? Me?” Rafe shakes his head amused at his father’s hypocrisy. 

“Yes, you! Where’d you get this from? Huh? Tell me?” Ward continues, throwing the coke on the table much to your disdain, but you weren’t surprised. You’d never much liked the way Ward talked to Rafe but for some reason he was still the only one he would listen to. 

“All I do is try to look after this family.” Rafe says calmly, rubbing his hands down his face. “I try to get Sarah away from those pogue boys. I try to help Wheezie do everything. And you? Well I do everything you ask of me. That isn’t enough for you! That’s embarrassing?” As Rafe’s tangent went on he raised his voice, towards the end getting in Ward’s face. “All of you are the embarrassment.”

Shock fills your body, when Ward slaps him. The entirety of Rafes face turned to the left and the force pushed his back slightly. This was the opposite of helping him. Your shock doesn’t get the chance to go away when Rafe punches his father. It was the first time he’d ever hit him back, this you knew for a fact. A small part of you was proud of him, but the circumstances only fueled your anxiety.

When you see Ward wipe the blood off his face. Seeming genuinely astonished that his son fought him back and going to hit him again you panicked and so did everyone else. They were in full on brawl by the time everyone else caught up. You saw a man walking towards him with a needle and the last thing you wanted was Rafe to wake up in the hospital confused and trapped.

“Rafe!” You scream, trying to get him attention, before stupidly jumping in front of one of his punches. You fully expected it to connect even if he realized it was you because he was just so angry. When it didn’t you opened your eyes to see the furious ones staring back at you. You place your hands on his neck in an attempt to ward off the man with the needle.

“I’m so sorry.” You find yourself repeating solemnly. “I’m sorry you’re struggling. I’m sorry I didn’t notice. I’m sorry about today. I just- I love you so much. I want you to get better.” 

He’s breathing heavily and you see the bruise forming on his cheek, along with the unshed tears in his eyes. 

“You are so strong. Stronger than anyone I know. You can fight this, and get the help you need.” He jerks away from you at your last words, the anger still swarming in his eyes along with something else. You almost expect him to keep fighting, but instead he just stands still. Away from you away from his dad and family. He stands still waiting for the men to take him. And they do, without him saying another word.