#i will hold these words so close to my heart and use them as my own light on gloomy days!!

[salemrph]

Sleepy morning with Sylus

A/N: While I was reading some other posts yesterday, I came across a user asking what it would be like to wake up next to Sylus. My imagination jumped on it right away! I would say this is more of a headcanon than a fanfic. I focused more how he would experience it. Short write, just because I'm working on other stuff.

Character: Sylus & Reader/MC/you

Genre: romantic, fluffy

Word count: 1,430 | Reading Time: 5 min

Background music

Your laughter echoes through his bedroom as you try to break free from his grip, his breath tickling your skin. His arms are wrapped tightly around you, pressing himself against your naked body. You smell incredible, so intoxicatingly good that waking up next to you must be heaven on earth.

You squirm and kick, already in tears from laughing so hard. He can't get enough of that sound, of the way you smile, the way you close your eyes and lean your head back. Your presence is like a flowerbed in full bloom, vibrant and breathtaking. Blooming in its full splendor.

Whenever he can, he admires you. When you sleep, he counts the moles on your body, tracing them with his fingertips. He caresses the scars you've earned as a fierce Hunter, kissing every natural fold of your skin. His touch follows the curve of your back, the delicate shape of your ass, down to your legs. The same legs that always wrap around him in the intensity of passion.

He loves you, more than he could ever show to you. It wouldn't be enough, ever.

"Sylus—"  you gasp between laughs, struggling against him as your muscles start to cramp.

"You have so much energy, kitten" you keep laughing, you are so ticklish this morning. His nose brushes against your neck before he nips at your skin, placing lazy kisses along your shoulder.

You squirm even more, still breathless from laughter. "I will pee myself... Stop!"

He hums against your skin, only tightening his hold. He isn't really awake, he wants to keep sleeping, enjoying the peaceful morning with you. Sylus has worked hard to clear his schedule, to be with you like this. To adapt to your routine, make breakfast, and simply enjoy a normal day at your side.

"Then pee..."  he teases. 

"Gross! Let go." You protest, thoroughly disgusted by his suggestion.

"Not even in dreams, sweetie" he chuckles while still kissing your shoulder.

"Sy..." you whine. That tone, the way you try to get your way putting that face, that tone in your voice. The one that makes his heart melt no matter how much he tries to resist. He growls, reluctant to release you completely. His grip tightening for a moment before he finally exhales and relaxes.

"Go. You have 2 minutes to come back". 

You waste no time jumping out of bed, only to earn a slap on your ass.

"Hey!" You spin around, shooting him a glare. Sylus only smirks.

"I like how it wiggles"

You disappear in the bathroom. Sylus shifts onto his back, crossing both arms behind his head, staring at the ceiling with a rare sense of peace. Yeah… he could get used to this. No, he wants to get used to this. The wealth he possesses and everything he has done has been nothing more than a way to ensure your safety. The years he spent searching for you taught him that he had to be prepared for anything. Losing you again was not in his plans. And if the day ever comes when you no longer love him, it won’t change a thing. He would still protect you, even from the shadows.

He’s so lost in thought that he doesn’t notice you sneaking back into bed. Carefully, you inch closer, suppressing a grin as you reach out to poke his cheek. But before you can even make contact, his hand shoots out, catching your wrist in a firm grip.

"Feeling playful this morning, my love?"

"Just a bit" you smirk. Sylus laughed.

"What do you want to play?" You tilt your head, pausing deliberately as your eyes drift over his bare chest, trailing down to his toned abs. The sheets rest low on his hips, and the way you’re looking at him doesn’t go unnoticed. He knows that look.

With effortless ease, he shifts, pulling you toward him until you land on top of his body.

His fingers brush a stray strand of hair from your face, his touch lingering. The color of your lips is already beautiful, but he loves it even more when they darken after passionate kisses. His lips part slightly, his gaze locked onto yours, mesmerized by the infinite depth of your shining eyes.

You lean in, pressing tender kisses across his face before finally finding his lips. Your entire body relaxes, melting into him. Savoring the slow movement of your mouth. Heat growing in your body. Between you two. The kiss deepens bit by bit, his tongue tracing your lips, later moving beyond, slipping inside, tasting you. You sigh into him, already lost in the spreading feelings of longing.

His hand has already trapped you. One sitting on your back, the other on your ass, keeping you close. He is getting harder by the second. His need for you is growing. The steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your fingertips grounding you in the moment. There is no rush, no urgency. You have the complete morning and day to melt in each other.

When he finally pulls away, just enough to rest his forehead against yours, his breath is warm against your lips. His eyes flutter shut for a moment as he exhales deeply. This is a dream, he thinks. A damn good dream. And he has no intention of waking up.

One hand moves to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing tenderly over your skin. He doesn’t need to speak; everything he feels is in the way he looks at you, in the way he holds you like you’re something precious. You cover his hand with yours, pressing your cheek into his palm. A faint smile tugs at his lips before he kisses you again.

Sylus takes his time, enjoying how your body reacts to him, the quiet gasps, the way your fingers tangle in his hair. His name escapes your lips in a breathless whisper. He watches you with a quiet intensity, taking in the way you melt under his touch. The space between you disappears, lost in the unhurried way he moves. Once more, your worlds merge, your bodies speaking a language only the two of you understand.

That's how you start the morning: with him, with you, with nothing beyond these four walls mattering. Just the warmth of his skin, the rhythm of your hearts, and the love that neither of you needs to put into words.

[steddieas-shegoes]

not to me

for @steddielovemonth inspired by the quote “I’ll take care of you” “it’s rotten work” “not to me. Not if it’s you”

rated t | 947 words | cw: injury recovery | tags: pre-relationship, post-Vecna, friends to lovers, getting together, first kiss, disabled Eddie Munson

👨🏻‍🦽‍➡️👨🏻‍🦽‍➡️👨🏻‍🦽‍➡️👨🏻‍🦽‍➡️👨🏻‍🦽‍➡️👨🏻‍🦽‍➡️👨🏻‍🦽‍➡️👨🏻‍🦽‍➡️👨🏻‍🦽‍➡️👨🏻‍🦽‍➡️👨🏻‍🦽‍➡️

“Fuck!” Eddie yells as he throws his hands up in frustration.

He’s been trying to stand on his own for days now, and the furthest he’s gotten is pulling himself most of the way up. His legs shake. He falls back down.

Repeat again until he finally isn’t even strong enough to get himself upright.

Wayne’s always home, but he doesn’t watch. At least he doesn’t let Eddie know if he is. But he’s home in case Eddie ends up hurting himself or falling onto something other than his bed or the couch.

Steve’s come by a few times, offering to be a steady body to hold onto. He doesn’t accept the offer. Usually, he jokes that Wayne’s the only man he’s ever trusted and distracts him with something else.

“Alright, Ed?” Wayne calls to him from the kitchen.

“Fine!” Eddie calls back because he doesn’t want Wayne to come into his room and see him splayed out in his bed while his walker is still unused by his bed. He glares at the wheelchair in the corner of the room.

The doctors said he’d be in it for a long time, maybe months, but he’s determined to prove them wrong. They also said he wouldn’t play guitar again, but he was already able to play most of the chords.

He hears a car pull up outside and he just knows it’s Steve. Of course he would come over now.

The car door opens and closes.

The front door opens and closes.

Wayne greets him like he’s an old pal and he kind of is. It’s a little weird how close they’ve become since Eddie woke up, but whatever.

There’s a knock on his bedroom door before it opens.

Closes.

Steve looks nice. Not dressed up, necessarily, but he’s wearing his good jeans and a new polo. His hair is done a little less carefree, more like he actually went through the phases of blow drying it, putting product in it, and then showing up here to drive Eddie and his unrequited crush crazy.

He smells nice, too.

“Is that a new cologne?”

“It’s not new, I just only wear it for dates.”

Eddie’s heart sinks. It shouldn’t.

Not only is Eddie a man, but he’s also weird. And, at this current time, he’s pretty much bedbound or being pushed around in a wheelchair.

Steve’s a good guy, but he isn’t gonna waste the good cologne on visiting Eddie.

“Oh. Where you taking her? Movies? Dinner?” Eddie sits up so he doesn’t have to look up at Steve. His mind starts to wander to other reasons Steve might be above him, but luckily, Steve answers before he gets carried away.

“I’m taking you to my place,” Steve replies simply.

“I thought you were going on a date?”

“I am. I’m taking you to my house.”

“No offense, but I’d rather not sit alone at your house while you’re on a date,” Eddie snorts. “Is this because Wayne’s leaving in the morning for a weekend trip? I swear I’ll be fine on my own. Dustin’s coming by tomorrow anyway.”

“Eddie.” Steve takes both of his hands. “I’m taking you to my house for a date. You and me. On a date. I’m making dinner for us and I thought you could help me make a character sheet.”

Eddie must’ve fallen and hit his head. He must’ve blacked out. Wayne will be so pissed that his independence has landed him in the hospital again.

“You’re saying words to me. I hear them.”

Steve groans. He lets go of Eddie’s hands and cups his face instead.

“Wayne said this would be difficult.” He rubs his thumb against Eddie’s cheek, smirking. “You’re awake. You’re alive. I’m really here in front of you. I’m asking you to come to my house so I can charm you and maybe kiss you at the end of our date. And then you can stay at mine, but there’s no expectations. I have the guest room made up for you.”

“This is crazy. You realize this is crazy?” Eddie squeaks. “You’re not even gay!”

“I’m a little gay,” Steve laughs. “And I really like you.”

“But-“ Eddie turns to his wheelchair. He’s definitely gonna need it to get outside and then back inside Steve’s house. And then he’ll probably need help getting upstairs to the guest room, or Steve’s room if he’s lucky. “You’ll have to help me. For a long time maybe. The doctors might have been right on this. I can’t even stand, let alone walk. And I’m miserable about it. What you walked in on was my 28th attempt at getting up to use my walker today and I’m no closer than I was on day one, attempt one. It’ll be a lot of fucking work, taking care of me.”

“Not to me. Not if it’s you.”

Eddie’s speechless for quite possibly the first time in his life.

“Can I kiss you?”

Eddie nods once. Steve beams at him, like he’s given him the best gift he’s ever received.

He gets lightheaded almost immediately. Steve’s lips are gentle against his, full of so much tenderness and love. It’s almost more than he can handle.

Eddie chases his lips as Steve pulls away.

“Don’t stop,” Eddie whines.

“I’m gonna take you home. We’re gonna have a date. And then we’re gonna kiss again. Let me treat you right, though,” Steve says and winks.

“You stop that. I can’t handle your winking.”

Steve laughs, kisses him again. He leans back and claps his hands together.

“Alright, let’s get you in the chair so we can get home. Dinner’s gonna take about an hour to make.”

[vampzity]

restrictions | S.CB

★ DAY NINE: BONDAGE WITH CHANGBIN ★

pairing: bf! changbin x f! reader

Changbin never liked it when you misbehaved. It drove him nuts and you knew that. Yet you loved every punishment and every restraint that came with it. He was bound to show you what exactly happens when you go against him.

[warnings]: MDNI 18+!!, smut, dom! changbin, bondage, rough sex, oral (m. receiving), hair pulling, spanking , slight choking??, pet names (baby, slut, doll, pretty, good girl), cursing, changbin sees mc as his “doll”

word count: 1.5k

“What the fuck is your problem?!”

Changbin stormed into your shared bedroom, seeing that you were still dressed in your light blue babydoll dress and white heels. The babydoll was see through, enough to show the matching lingerie set you wore underneath.

You sat on the bed, arms crossed as he yelled at you. He slammed the door behind him, beyond annoyed with your impulsive actions.

“You never told me your friends were coming over. You just told me to sit in the room and wait.”

You pouted at him, looking away from the harsh glare he gave you. He pinched the bridge of his nose, shaking his head as he walked over to the dresser. He opened it, shuffling through it as you attempted to reason with him.

“I just wanted to show you my outfit. You forgive me, right Binnie?”

You received no answer, watching as he chuckled to himself. You tried to peek around him only to no avail as his figure was a lot bigger than your line of vision.

“I try to give you benefit of the doubt, give you some freedom.” Changbin closed the drawer, placing the things he grabbed on the top of the dresser.

“But you keep testing my patience, over and over.”

He turned around, walking over to your body. A large red ribbon was roped in his hands, his once calm look now a cold one. Your gaze met his as he waited for you to put your hands out. You kept them to yourself, knowing that there was no use in reasoning with him at this point.

He held his hand out, signaling for you to put both of your wrists out for him. You shook your heard in refusal, unsure of how unruly his punishment would be this time around. He sighed one of disappointment, rolling his eyes.

“You have 5 seconds before I start tallying.”

You immediately held your arms out, looking down as you tried to avoid his gaze. He wrapped the ribbon around your wrists, tying them together tight enough to cut off your circulation. He pulled you by your hands, bringing you to your feet so that you stood in front of him.

Your eyes still averted him, but he was quick to hold your chin up. His eyes hung low, a small smile painting his face as the grip on your chin tightened.

“Listen to me, and listen real good.”

He unbuckled his pants, letting the zipper fall. His buldge poked out from his underwear, ready to burst out of them. He pulled out his cock, pushing your shoulder down so that you sat on your knees. You eyed his member, watching how it throbbed in front of you as his hand ruffled through your hair.

“I’m gonna fuck this pretty face of yours, and when I’m done,” he glanced over to the bed, his eyes falling to the hooks that would hold your ropes.

“I’ll be sure to put good use of this little dress you put on for me.”

Your heart sank, meeting his low eyes. He smirked at you, tapping his tip against your lip softly. He smeared his head against your lips, groaning at how soft they felt.

“Be a doll and open for me will you?”

You did as you were told, allowing him to slip his length into your mouth. He let out a soft groan, moving his hips slowly. His hand held the back of your head as he fucked your face, being careful to make sure you don’t choke.

He let go of your head, nodding at you to continue while he stood there. You swirled your tongue around his cock head, looking up to see him smirk at you. Drool seeped from the side of your mouth and into your chest, while coating his dick in the process.

Changbin tilted his head at you, sighing at how slow you were being with him. He grabbed a fist full of your hair, making a yelp escape you as you flinched under his touch.

“You think that’s funny, eh?!” You quickly shook your head no, afraid of his sudden remark.

He grabbed your head, shoving his cock back inside of your mouth and fucking you harshly. You gagged repeatedly as his head pushed against the back of your throat, feeling slight mounts of air leaving you. Your teeth grazed against the skin of his length, making a loud groan leave his mouth.

“Fuck, fuck baby..”

He slammed his cock into your mouth, admiring the drool dripping down your chin. Changbin wasn’t average either, oh no. He was big. He had girth and unfortunately for you, he was going to make you take it.

He pushed your head against his dick as he fucked you, throwing his head back in pleasure. Spirts of his precum lined your mouth, his dick throbbing in agony as he tried so hard to hold himself back. His thrust grew harder by the second, unable to keep himself in check as he got sloppy with you.

Hot loads of his cum filled your mouth as he continued to fuck himself through his orgasm. His cum dropped down from your chin onto your chest, nearly choking on as you were helpless with no hands to use.

“That’s it pretty, swallow it all like a good girl.”

Changbin pulled his cock out of you, watching as you licked the remains off his tip. He smirked, dragging you up by your arms and sitting you on the bed.

He undid the ribbon, switching it to one side as he placed another red ribbon on the other. He tied them to the hooks of the bed, keeping you in a position where your ass was facing him. He pulled on the restraints, making sure they were secure before walking over to the dresser and pulling something from ontop of it.

Changbin walked back over to you, pulling down his pants and getting into bed with you. He tied a gag ball around your face, stuffing the gag into your mouth and tied extra ribbon around your ankles, keeping your legs in place so you couldn’t move at all.

“Since you want to walk around like you’re some kind of slut.” he held a vibrator to your clit, turning it onto the highest setting.

“You can get treated like one too.”

He moved the toy against your bud, earning an overwhelming amount of moans and whimpers from you, only for them to be blocked by the gag. He rubbed the head of his cock slowly, watching as your legs shook uncontrollably at the pressure.

“Not so sorry now, huh?”

You stood there helpless as he abused your pussy, body feeling weak as your climax built inside of you. A loud smack rang through your ears, your ass suddenly tingling from the sensation that made you cry out.

“See how obedient you are for me?” he landed another smack to your ass, your skin turning a light shade of red. “That’s how I like you to be.”

He held his dick and rubbed it against your wet entrance before pushing himself in. He groaned in pleasure, taking his thrusts slow as he held the vibrator to your clit. A white ring formed around his member, as you had already let yourself go under the pressure.

“Aw cummed already? I hope you know that I’m not done with you babydoll.”

He held the vibrator against your clit, letting his thrusts fasten as you cried out in pleasure. Your cunt squeezed around him, barely able to take all of him in from how tight you were. You tugged at the bondage, body shaking from the overstimulation.

“Fuck, you’re so tight baby. I gotta open you up.”

Changbin spread your ass slightly, admiring at how stretched out you were becoming for him. Your pussy was swollen from his girth, from the constant abuse he gave it.

You whimpered, struggling to say anything as the gag made it harder for you. He dropped the vibrator, grabbing onto your waist and ramming into your sore cunt. You cried out, begging for him to slow down as his cock forced your walls open. His head brushed against your sweet spot, pounding it with every thrust.

“You’re such a good girl for me baby.” he threw his head back, cursing at the ceiling with every squeeze your cunt gave him.

“Look at how well you’re taking me, fuck.”

He leaned over your fragile body, kissing your back softly. His nails dug into your skin, your ass growing sore from how hard he pounded into you. He grabbed onto your hair, pulling your head back as you whimpered in pleasure.

“Gonna cum in this pretty pussy of yours baby. Need you leaking.”

Changbin smacked your ass for a last time, sweat trickling down his forehead as you struggled to keep your body from falling apart underneath him.

In no time he let out a loud moan, letting himself go inside of you. He worked his cum into your hole, being sure to not let any spill out of you before pulling out. He watched your hole ache for his size, slightly stretched from the abuse. He kissed your lower back softly, kneading his fingers into your ass.

“Next time you’ll know not to test my patience, isn’t that right doll?”

back to valentine’s masterlist

a/n: YIPPEE DAY 9! lowkey thinking of doing a bonus special when this is all done. i’m thinking twt links for ateez & skz ? 🤭

taglist: @dvrktvnnel @scarfac3 @jjongibears @dollywoo @h4untedgrl @rvereri @joonezra @yyaurii @hwasddeongbyeoli @mingtinysworld @tiredlittlevirgo @honeyhwaaa @evidive @inniesfanblog @bluesungology @stephanieeeyang @potentialgay @galaxy4489 @nickgurl4life @fangirljas929 @desirehorizon @channiesluvrclub

[inkdrinkerworld]

You give yourself a haircut before your date with Remus, his reaction doesn’t disappoint in the slightest wc: 609

“Close your eyes Remmy!” You announce as you hear the front door open. Your heels click clack against the tiles as you hustle to the living room.

You’ve just finished styling your hair and getting ready for yours and Remus’ date and you’ve done something you think he’s going to love.

You love it, so you’re pretty sure he’s going to as well.

“What did you do?” There’s amusement in his voice as you step into the living room and find his hand over his eyes and his other one holding a bouquet of the year’s first tulips.

“Thank you for the flowers,” you lean up and kiss his lips, sticky gloss coating his as you pull back but all Remus does is rub his lips to father with a smile.

“Presumptuous, it could very well be for the woman I sweet talked into the table overlooking the pier.”

You hit his chest softly with a scoff. “Maybe I shouldn’t show you.”

Remus coos, wrapping his arm around your waist as his lips coast your neck. It makes your skin heat at how aware he is of you even with his eyes covered.

“Please show me baby,” his words are practically branded into your skin and you sigh.

“Move your hand,” you say softly, leaning back as he does so he can see you fully.

Remus groans when his eyes focus, hands appreciative when they reach to the ends of your hair.

“My love,” there’s a bit of husk to his voice that you weren’t expecting but as he twists a curl around his finger and gives you another once over you can’t help but feel a bit bashful. “You cut it!” You nod, nibbling on your lip as Remus gives you his full attention. “You look so good.”

You smile- beam is a better word- under his compliment, even more so when his fingers tickle the base of your neck.

“Would I mess it up if I ran my hands through it?”

You shake your head, curls sticking to the dewy setting spray you’d used.

“That’s kind of the point of it. To look a bit like bed head.”

Remus groans again, setting the flowers down and sinking both his hands into your hair and pulling you closer for a kiss.

Remus kisses you like he’s been thirsty all day and you’re a drink of cold water.

Just before he pulls away, he nibbles on your bottom lip and sighs all pleased.

“You’re gonna send me into cardiac arrest, dove.”

He sounds all breathless and it makes your heart hammer even harder against your chest.

“I’m not trying to.”

Remus laughs, pecking your lips again before stepping back to take in your entire outfit.

You’re in a deep wine purple dress, the skirt of it falling to mid-shin. The bodice is snug to your curves with a square neckline that makes you look even more beautiful. You’re also wearing the necklace Remus had gotten you as an anniversary gifts a few years ago- rose quartz on a dainty chain that sits just along your collarbones.

Remus didn’t notice it before but you smell amazing too- like caramel, honey and milk.

“You’re definitely trying too, dove.”

You giggle bashfully, even more so when he reaches back for the flowers and hands them to you.

“Thank you, Remmy.” You give him another kiss, glad that you’d just done liner and gloss because he’d look a mess if you’d worn your lipstick- not that Remus would mind all that much.

“Can I take a photo? I’m due a new lock screen.”

You’re a few minutes late for the reservation but Remus has his new lock screen photo and a few kisses beneath his shirt as well.

[chancloud8]

Picture Perfect

Part 1 * Part 2

Pairing: jeongin x reader

Word count: 2,1k

Summary: when Jeongin has a proposition for you, who are you to turn him down? Tags: suggestive maybe, but its mostly setting the scene for the smut in part 2

a/n: Happy birthday to our beloved Innie!! This was supposed to be a one shot, but because I'm not finished yet I decided to upload it in 2 parts. Part 2 will be smut ;)

Everyone in the studio has been excited about Yang Jeongin's shoot today. It’s all anyone could talk about this week, you included. You’ve been a Stay for a while now and when the call came that you’ve been chosen as the intern to work with the head photographer on this particular shoot, you may have fangirled your little heart out. 

When Jeongin walks into the studio this morning, looking sleepy and a little nervous, you expect to have to coax him out of his shell during the shoot. But boy were you wrong. As soon as he changes into his first outfit and the camera’s are turned on, it's like he transforms into a different man. 

You know he’s used to the camera’s, that he knows how to work them, but you also know how he feels about his body. He’s always been careful with showing too much skin and even with the Hallucination performance now existing, you didn’t think he’d be this confident, this sexy. Not that he shouldn’t be. The man is an absolute vision, with and without clothes. 

All through the photoshoot you can't keep your eyes off him. He's a work of art, perfectly sculptured with smooth skin and muscles in all the right places. It doesn't help that his eyes keep finding yours, holding your gaze, both through the lens of your camera as without it. 

‘Is it just me or does he look at you like you’re his next meal?’ Yumi, one of the make-up artists whispers in your ear during the second outfit change. 

‘I’m glad you’re seeing it too and I’m not going crazy,’ you mumble, looking through the photos you just shot. 

‘You’ve been undressing him with your eyes as well, don’t pretend like you haven’t,’ Yumi teases. ‘But I don’t blame you, that man is fine.’ 

‘Don’t let your husband hear you say that,’ you laugh. ‘But yes he is, look at this.’ You show her a picture where Jeongin leans back in the chair he’s sitting on, his abs on display as he has an arm thrown over his head while he looks right into your camera. 

Yumi whistles through her teeth. ‘It’s like he’s looking right into my soul, damn girl, this is good stuff. If you don’t want him, I’ll take him.’ 

‘You have a husband, babe,’ you repeat. ‘Besides, I’m pretty sure he doesn’t sleep around.’ 

Your eyes meet Jeongin’s then from across the room and the way he smirks at you almost feels like he heard what you just said.

During the next break you make your way to the snack table and grab a handful of grapes. You need something sweet to silence the beast inside you and usually food can do the job almost just as well as sex. 

You grab some grapes and pop them in your mouth, already eying the chocolate on the other side of the table. The flavour of a perfectly sweet grape hits your tongue then and you hum in surprise, immediately reaching out to take some more. Wow, these are good.

Someone chuckles next to you and with flushed cheeks you look up to see Jeongin looking down at you. He has the same look in his eyes as before and his lips are tipped up in a grin. 

Up close he's even more beautiful than through your camera. 

'I, uhm, can recommend the grapes,' you stammer dumbly, not knowing what else to say. You quickly pop some more grapes into your mouth so you won't have to talk for a moment. 

'I have a proposition for you,' Jeongin whispers into your ear as he leans close to you to grab an apple from the bowl on your other side. 

You nearly choke on the remaining grapes in your mouth and start coughing loudly. 

What did he just say? 

A proposition? 

What the fuck does that mean? 

Jeongin looks at you with both concern and amusement as you continue to cough, but then he reaches for a bottle of water and unscrews the cap before giving it to you. One of his hands comes up to rub your back and you look up at him with teary eyes, before taking a sip. 

'Thanks,' you say, clearing your throat. 'I don't think I heard that correctly.' 

'You did,' Jeongin smiles and he looks around to see if anyone is in hearing distance before he leans in close again. 'And the next time you look at me with tears in your eyes will be when you're choking on my cock.' 

Your mouth falls open at his words and you nearly drop the bottle of water in your hands. 

'I--what?' 

Jeongin just shrugs, giving you a cheeky grin before his eyes travel up and down your body.

'You can say no, but I hope you'll meet me after the shoot.' 

You blink at him and pinch your arm, not sure if you're dreaming or hallucinating. You must be. Right? 

Yang Jeongin, Ayen, the maknae of Stray Kids did not just suggest he wanted you to blow him, did he? Because that would be insane. 

'But- You- I,' you stutter, your brain is definitely having an error at the whole situation. 

'Me and you,' Jeongin nods. 'I'd like that very much.' 

At this point you're just gaping at him, probably looking like a fish on dry land. Fucking hell, what did he just do to you? 

'What happened to sweet innocent Ayen?' 

'Who said I was innocent?' 

'Uhm, everyone?' 

'Have you seen the Hallucination performance?' Jeongin asks. 'Have you been paying attention today?' 

You scoff at him. Of course you have and he knows it or he wouldn't have approached you, but he just raises his eyebrows and waits for you to talk. 

Damn Chan for rooming with him. It has to be his fault. 

'You've been corrupted and I wasn't ready,' you pout. 

'Or have I just been pretending?' Jeongin winks, taking a bite of the apple you forgot he was holding. 

'Breaks over!' Your boss yells then and you jump like someone just electrocuted you. 

'Wait for me after, okay?' Jeongin asks, smiling sweetly before he turns around to get his make-up touched up. 

What the fuck just happened?

The rest of the shoot goes by in a blur with Jeongin being even more sexy and confident than before and it's driving you insane. It feels like he’s playing with you, with his food, like you’re the prey and he’s the hunter. 

Your camera is filled with pictures of him biting his lip, rolling his eyes upwards, baring his neck and many more sexual images. Everyone around you is buzzing with energy, happy with the vibe and the pictures that are being shown on the computer screens from both Junhi, the head photographer, and you. 

You lost count how many times your heart skips a beat as Jeongin looks at you, or rather at your camera, but from your point of view there’s not much difference. By the end of the shoot you feel hot and your clothes feel too tight against your skin. 

One by one staff members pick up their stuff and leave the studio. You're being deliberty slow with putting your camera and laptop away and you linger to chat with your co-workers to buy yourself some more time to decide what to do. 

You'd be a fool to turn down Jeongin's proposal and you desperately wanted to go with him and do anything he wanted, but a small part of you wondered if it was a good idea. You had one night stands before, but being with a world famous idol is new for you and you’re not sure if you feel confident enough to go for it. 

When Jeongin leaves the studio, his manager on his heels, you stare after him. Will he wait for you somewhere? Will he come back to see if you are still here when more people have left the building? 

‘Miss?’ A soft voice startles you. 

To your left a kind looking man smiles down at you. He's wearing a suit and there's a security emblem on his sleeve.  

‘Yes?’ you ask, nerves filling your body. 

‘Could you come with me for a moment? I have some questions I'd like to ask you.’ 

You share a look with Yumi and she shrugs at you. 

‘Uhm, sure,’ you nod, following him to the hallway. ‘What's this about?’ 

The man doesn't answer and leads you to a secluded room at the other side of the building. Inside sits another man in a suit and in front of him are a bunch of papers. 

‘Hello,’ he greets you kindly, gesturing to the seat in front of him. ‘You're L/N Y/N?’ 

‘That's me,’ you nod as you sit down. 

‘Good, let's get straight to it shall we,’ the man smiles. ‘Yang Jeongin has asked to spend the evening with you, do you agree to this?’ 

You blink a few times and your mouth falls open in a small ‘o’. You should have known that this was about Jeongin. 

Squirming in your seat you try to ignore your galloping heart as blood rushes to your cheeks. 

‘I agree,’ you say, screaming internally at how easy it was to say. 

‘And do you also agree to sign an NDA?’ 

You tilt your head. ‘What would I be signing for?’ 

The man pushes a paper across the table for you to read. ‘The most important thing is that you can't share anything about your night with the outside world, if you do we'll sue you and you'll have to pay a large fine.’

‘Okay, so no talking about it. Got it,’ you nod, scanning the text in front of you. 

It’s all pretty basic. You can’t share any personal information with anyone or make any pictures or videos during your stay with Jeongin. It makes sense that they want to protect their idol from any scandals and you weren't planning on telling anyone. Who, besides Yumi, would believe you anyway. 

‘Can I borrow a pen?’

Thirty minutes later you're in front of a hotel door. Your heart is once again beating so fast that it feels like Jeongin would be able to hear it if he opened the door right now. The security guard who brought you up, gives you a funny look when you take three deep breaths before knocking on the door. 

Stay calm Y/N. 

Jeongin opens the door within what feels like two heartbeats. He's wearing the same outfit as before, but his hair is much messier. It looks like he continuously dragged his hands through it. Was he nervous? Did he wonder if you would come? 

He grins when he sees you and steps aside to let you in. 

‘I wasn't sure you'd come,’ he says as he closes the door behind you. ‘I'm really glad you did.’ 

‘Yeah?’ you smile, shrugging out of your coat and dumping it on the couch along with your bag. ‘I’m glad I decided to come too, then.’ 

‘You were having doubts?’ Jeongin asks when you turn to look at him.

He has his arms crossed and his eyebrows are raised as he studies your face. 

‘Not really,’ you shake your head. ‘I just have never done anything like this with an Idol before.’ 

‘So in a sense, I’m your first?’ Jeongin grins, dropping his arms next to his body as he steps closer to you. 

‘I guess so,’ you laugh. 

‘I like that,’ Jeongin says, he’s so close now that you have to look up. 

There’s a glimmer of something in his eyes that makes your stomach flip. He looks excited, hungry and playful and heat fills your belly in anticipation. You have no idea what to expect from him. 

‘What else do you like?’ you ask, smirking up at him. 

‘You’re about to find out,’ he says and then he pounces. 

His lips are soft, but he kisses you hard and fast. He tastes like coffee and cinnamon and when he sucks on your tongue you moan into his mouth. Jeongin’s hands are on your waist and he slowly walks you back until your back hits the door. 

‘You’re mine for tonight, Y/N,’ he whispers against your lips. 

All decent thoughts and any lingering doubts leave your mind then. You like this confident man in front of you and instead of answering you just moan again and roll your hips forward to collide with his. Whatever he wants, he’ll get. You’re ready to completely give yourself to him. 

Jeongin’s hands tighten on your hips to keep you still. ‘What do you say to that?’ 

Your brain takes a moment to come up with a reply. 

‘I’m yours?’ your voice sounds breathy and shaky. 

‘Is that a question or an answer?’ Jeongin asks, his lips leaving a trail on your neck as he slowly sucks on your skin. 

‘I’m yours,’ you say, sounding more sure. ‘I’m yours for tonight.’ 

‘Good girl.’

a/n: part 2 with the smut will be up either tomorrow or monday at its latest! ;) I hope you liked reading this hehe (sorry i just cant write smut without at least SOME story or warm up lmao) - taglist: @jaeminie-cricket @jeonginsbaee @staylovesmiley @newbbystay @cashtonsbetch @mariahxrrera @kaleigh-2002 @silencionyx @smileykiddie08 @my-neurodivergent-world @yaorzu-blog @yoongiismylove2018 @staytinyluv @bookswillfindyouaway @queen-thiccness @notastraykid @ateez-atiny380 @estella-novella @furfoxsake22 @hyunjinhoexxx @insomnjen @girl-in-love-with-kpop @vivilovesuu @velvetmoonlght @skz8love @corgilover20 @littlelostdemonofthelight @stephanieeeyang @zulie-and-cats @chanshugsaretherapy @pizzalove5000 @dazzlingjade @milie-com @thequibbie @channiesrightasscheek @strawbrriz @delulustardust @velvetskize @channiefever @luvbangchan @aalexyuuuhm @katsukis1wife @herpoetryprincess @ye0lkkot @glitterywastelandgardener @vampcharxter @boi-bi-ahaha @mlink64 @greyyeti @mariteez

[fawnhart]

sugar and rafes first time meeting ! ㅤ⭑๋ ࣭

You remember the moment your whole life started to crumble. It was a Tuesday, you think. Maybe a Wednesday? Doesn’t really matter. The days just blur together when you’re stuck in a house where you’re not allowed to live

You were listening to Jeff Buckley. You had it on repeat for weeks now, hiding it under a loose plank in the floorboards of your room. Your parents would never allow it. Not in a million years. Especially your mom. She’d explode if she ever found out. Everything was so god damn evil to her

But that day you thought you had time. She was supposed to be gone for at least another hour. It was Wednesday. Church group meetings. It was always a Wednesday.

You slipped the CD into your player old and busted up, the kind with the cassette tape thing but with a CD attachment, so it wasn’t completely outdated. You sat on your bed, staring out at the little slice of sky visible through your window, not really thinking about anything in particular just thinking. Then you heard the door downstairs.

“What the hell is that noise?”

You froze. Your heart dropped into your stomach. You thought your mom wouldn’t be home yet. You’d been so sure. You asked Mrs. Maggie to 1000% sure. But she was early. You scrambled to hit stop, but the music kept playing. Her voice, firm and pissed, was coming closer.

“What the hell are you doing?”

Your pulse raced. You shoved the player under your pillow just as she stormed into the room, her eyes narrowing. She was already clutching that look the one that meant something bad was about to happen.

“What did I tell you about this?” Her voice was tight and screechy.

“I wasn’t doing nothin’” you said, your voice shaky. You didn’t even believe yourself. You knew exactly why she was upset. But you had to try. You had to try to be normal for once, even if it was just for a few minutes in your own room.

“Nothing?” Her lip curled, disgust in every word. “Baby, you think you can just fill ya’ head with that filth and call it ‘nothin’?’”

You bit your lip, holding back tears. She stepped forward, pointing at the CD player under your pillow.

“This is demonic! I knew it. You’ve been listening to the devil behind my back. It’s not enough that you’re dressing like... like one of those whores at school. But now you want to be dirty on the inside, too?”

Your throat felt tight, like you couldn’t breathe. Your mind was racing. What were you supposed to say?

“You’re going to ruin everything I’ve worked for. Everything your father and I have taught you,” she hissed, her eyes wild with something you didn’t recognize. It wasn’t love, not even close.

“it’s just music,” you whispered, too quietly, but she heard you.

She grabbed the player from your bed and yanked the CD out.

“It’s. not. just. music,” she said, her voice cracking. “It’s a gateway. It’s corruption to the brain.”

You wanted to scream. You wanted to tell her that all you wanted was to be normal, to have what everyone else had. a life outside of this house, outside of her rules. But the words never came.

She was moving now, pulling open drawers, emptying them onto the floor.

“all that filth you’ve been hiding from me and I’ve been lenient on is done for. I’m taking it all.”

She tossed your music cds, your makeup, your books. Everything you’d spent months gathering, everything you’d used to try to feel like you were an ordinary girl, was being thrown away.

And then, the worst part.

“Your father won’t stand for this. We’ll have you cleansed”

You faltered. Cleansed? It was such a cold, clinical word. But you knew what it meant. The prayers. The rituals. You couldn’t let that happen. You couldn’t live through that.

Your eyes were filling with tears, your chest tightening.

“I’m sorry!, I didn’t mean to. I won’t listen to that again, okay? I swear,” you pleaded, though you knew it didn’t matter.

But it was too late, she was already at the door

“You know honey, my church group has been just how ungodly you’ve been acting, but I didn’t believe them….. I hate that you proved them right”

locking it behind her with that final click that meant you were trapped.

You pressed your back against the door, the tears finally spilling over. You couldn’t think straight. Your whole body was shaking, your mind was screaming. I need to get out of here.

You knew what you had to do.

You waited for what felt like hours, listening to the muffled sounds of your mom in the kitchen. The smell of dinner wafted under the door, and all you could think about was how your entire life had been planned for you. You were supposed to be a good girl. A good Christian girl. But you weren’t. And you were never going to be.

Finally, when you thought your heart couldn’t take any more, you got up. You grabbed the little bag you’d hidden in the closet. Nothing but a few clothes, and the money you’d saved up from waitressing at ‘sticky’s’. Quietly, carefully, you pulled out the plank in the floor, grabbed the rest of your hidden things, and shoved them into your bag. You didn’t think twice.

You climbed out the window, holding your breath, praying that she wouldn’t hear you.

Once you were outside, you took off running.

You didn’t know where you were going, but it didn’t matter. You had to get out.

You ran for what felt like forever. The night was cold, but you didn’t care. It was better than being to the place you once called home.

You didn’t notice him at first.

You glanced around realizing you were for sure not on the cut anymore, the big tall houses made it clear to you were on figure eight now.

then you saw him

Rafe Cameron.

You’d seen him around, of course. He was one of the rich kids, always walking around with that stupid confident smile, like he owned the whole island. You’d never paid him any attention. You had enough of your own problems to deal with. But when you saw him standing at the end of the street, leaning against his car smoking god knows what, you froze.

You’ve heard the stories about Rafe Cameron. He’s the kind of guy everyone talks about but no one truly understands.

He’s always been a mystery, and he still is. But there’s something about him, something that draws you in, even though you know you probably shouldn’t get too close.

You never really expected to see him again, not after the way he disappeared seven years ago.

Rafe left figure eight right after that night, the night he ended up in jail. No one knows exactly what happened, but everyone has their theories.

Some say it was a huge mistake, some say it was just a matter of time, others say ward himself drove his only son out of town. But whatever it was, it was enough to make him walk away from everything. His family, his life there, his whole world.

He packed up and drove five hours away, living on his own, far from the memories and the mess the pouges he hated had caused.

In the time since, he’s built himself up. People talk about how he’s thriving now, working as a firefighter or something like that. Hard work, steady pay, and no one really bothers him anymore.

It’s like he’s trying to rebuild his life, piece by piece. But even though he’s been gone for so long, when he talks about his baby sister wheezie, there’s this soft, almost protective vibe about him

Now, he’s back in town, just for her birthday. It’s strange seeing him like this, but there’s something different about him. He’s older, quieter, and maybe even a little lost in his own way.

He was looking straight at you, his brow furrowed, like he knew something was wrong.

“Hey,” he called out, his voice muffled by his blunt but clear in the quiet night air.

You stopped in your tracks.

“Are you alright?” he asked, taking a step toward you.

You didn’t know what to say. Of course you weren’t alright!. You were running away from your own life, from your own mother. But you didn’t know how to tell him that.

“I... I’m fine,” you said, but even to your own ears, it sounded like a lie.

He took another step forward, still studying you with those eyes that seemed too kind for someone like him.

“I’m serious,” he said, his voice softer now. “You look rough.”

Your breath hitched. ‘Gee thanks’ Yeah, you looked rough. You had been rough for years. But hearing it from someone else...it hit different.

“Do you need a ride?” he asked.

You didn’t know what to do. You didn’t know him. But you also didn’t know anyone who would help you, not like this. So you warily followed him

You stared at him, confused, trying to figure out if he was serious or playing some sick joke on you.

Then it hit you. He was talking to you like you weren’t just the religious girl with the crazy parents. He wasn’t weirded. He wasn’t judging you.

The last time someone came up to you, the whole town heard about it. Your parents tried getting them expelled from school for harassing you.

That was the last time anyone ever talked to you

“I know you know Wheezie,” he said, a little chuckle in his voice as he opened the door. “you can’t be all bad, right?”

Wheezie? then it clicked, the girl with glasses who could down 6 cherry milkshakes in a row, nice.

“Come on,” he said, the smile slipping from his face for a second, a real one this time. “Let me help you.”

You didn’t know if you were ready for help, but you were so damn tired. Tired of pretending everything was okay. Tired of running. Tired of fighting your own heart every damn day.

You took a deep breath and took up his offer.

He didn’t even look like the guy everyone made him out to be. Sure, he still had that wild, unpredictable look to him, but he wasn’t hostile. He just… asked if you needed help. Simple as that.

You didn’t know what else to say. You didn’t know where else to go.

He didn’t press you with questions. He just turned on the engine, his eyes flicking over you like he was checking to see if you were really serious about getting in.

"You're Wheezie's friend, right?" he asked as you climbed in.

You nodded, glancing at him, trying to gauge whether or not you were making a huge mistake. "Yeah... kind of, she’s always at the diner" you added, almost too quietly. You didn't want to give him the wrong impression, what 18 year old is freinds with a 13 year old?

He smiled just a little, but it was different from the smirks you’d seen on his face at school or around town. “That sounds like her” It wasn’t mean. It was soft

You can’t help but wonder what really happened in those seven years, what it was that changed him, but for now, you’re stuck here in the passenger seat of his truck, staring at his side profile as he drives.

Something about being around him feels oddly comforting, even though you know there’s so much you’ll never understand.

The ride was awkward, the kind of silence that felt thick enough to choke on. Rafe had the radio low, some song you didn’t recognize playing in the background.

You focused on the streetlights flashing by, the pavement blurring, but all you could think about was the tight knot of anxiety in your chest. You didn't belong in this car, in this moment. You should have been running in the other direction, but... for some reason, you weren’t scared. Not yet.

You had no idea where the hell you were going. That’s when he asked.

“So, do you have anywhere to go?”

You looked at your lap, clutching the bag tighter. You couldn’t tell him the truth, not completely. Not yet. "yeah" you said, your voice barely above a raspy whisper.

He didn’t say anything at first. But then you heard him exhale, like he was thinking it over. “Look, I don’t know what the fuck you’ve been through but….but you’re safe now,” he said, and his voice was surprisingly gentle, like he’d somehow sensed how scared you really were. “Ok?”

“Ok” You swallowed hard, trying to hold back the tears. He wasn’t wrong. You were scared, terrified even, but for the first time in forever, someone wasn’t judging you for it.

No one in your family ever told you you were safe, ever told you that everything would be okay. You sniffled, the tears threatening to spill over.

You didn't want to break down in front of him.

The car slowed to a stop, and you realized you were at a diner, the neon lights buzzing softly. Rafe looked over at you, almost like he was waiting for you to protest or make some excuse. You didn’t. You just followed him out of the car, not saying a word.

Inside, the place smelled like burgers, fries, and cigarettes. The warmth was a stark contrast to the cold night outside, and it made you feel a little safer, like you were stepping into something straight out of a movie. Rafe led you to a booth and slid into the seat across from you. For a second, you both just stared at the menu, neither of you speaking. You didn’t know if you were supposed to order, or if he would. But then he broke the silence.

"What do you want?" He didn’t sound like he was expecting an answer right away. Like he was just making sure you were okay.

You looked at the menu, but your mind was elsewhere. You didn’t care what you ate. You just... didn’t want him to feel like he had to do this.

Like he had to take care of you.

“Just fries and a water,” you said, you didn't even know why you said it. It wasn’t like you had much of an appetite.

He raised an eyebrow, but he didn’t comment on it. He called the waitress over and ordered for both of you. A burger, fries, and a milkshake. When she left, he turned to you, his gaze softer than you thought he’d ever let it be.

"How are you holding up?" His voice was quieter now, the edge gone. He wasn’t the Rafe Cameron you’d heard about, the one everyone warned you to stay away from. He seemed... almost normal, it was freaking you out.

You shrugged, suddenly feeling embarrassed. "I don't know," you muttered. "Just tired, I guess."

He nodded, leaning back in his seat, but you caught him glancing at you every few seconds like he was still trying to figure you out.

“What are you running from” he said bluntly, his stare showing no signs playfulness, just a full serious look

you looked away, your tears sticking with your mascara and glitter eyeshadow “Home”

“Been there” he nodded taking in your appearance in, how could such a pretty girl like you be so alone and lost?

The food came quickly, and Rafe pushed the plate with the burger and fries toward you. "Eat," he said simply. “I’m not going to let you go hungry.”

You picked at the fries, not feeling hungry but not wanting to make him feel like you didn’t appreciate it. The milkshake was so cold and thick, and when you took a sip, you felt a small sense of comfort settle in. It wasn’t much, but it was something.

As you ate, Rafe kept glancing at you, almost like he was waiting for you to crack. When you sniffled again, wiping your nose with the back of your sleeve, he frowned. "I already told you, you don’t have to be scared," he said, his voice dropping a little. “You’re safe here. I’m not gonna let anything happen to you.”

It was a strange thing for him to say, considering who he was. But in that moment, you believed him. You really did.

When you finished the milkshake and most of the burger, you felt a little more alive again, but the weight of everything of your family, of the lies, of everything that had pushed you to this point, was still there.

And you still had nowhere to go.

you just had a sparkly sack and a dream.

Rafe didn’t say much after that, just leaned back in his seat, and let you gather your thoughts. But when the waitress came by to take your plates, you stood up, and swung the creaky glass door open feeling that familiar unease creep back in.

"I’ll just go to the docks, the ferry leaves at 6am," you said, Turing around to see rafe as he followed right behind. You were going to take the ferry to the mainland, with the little money you had left. You weren’t sure where you were going from there, but it was something.

Rafe’s expression turned serious, almost annoyed. “No,” he said flatly.

“what?”

“I’m not letting you go to the docks. It’s dangerous, and I doubt you even have enough money to get anywh-.”

“You can’t fix everything!” you snapped, feeling all the frustration you’d been holding back suddenly spill out. "You can’t. fix. everything"

Rafe’s jaw tightened. “Maybe I can’t fix everything,” he said, his voice firm. “But I can try to make sure you’re okay. I can’t just let you go off like that.”

You glared at him. “You don’t even know me. Why do you care?”

For a moment, he didn’t answer. He just looked at you like he was weighing something in his mind. Then he exhaled, running a hand through his buzzed head. “I know enough.”

You stared at him, unsure what to say. Your whole world was falling apart, and yet, here was this guy, this person you should’ve never trusted, according to everyone you knew

but then again why does it matter what everyone says? if you’re going by that logic then you would be at the bottom of the barrel.

“You want to runaway right?” he said, voice steady. “I have a place, it’s 5 hours away, that far enough for you?”

“Do you even know how old I am!? Hello, I could turn you in right now for being a weirdo” you asked with sass, anything to get him off of your case

“ ‘sticky’s’ won’t hire under 18.” He said nonchalantly rolling his eyes, “unless you lied or where getting paid under the table? Then I could turn you and your employer in”

You didn’t know if it was the exhaustion in his voice, but something in you cracked. “i didn’t lie, I’m 18” you said your voice trembling slightly. “I’ll go with you. But no funny business, I will jump out of the freaking car” you said crossing your arms

“Whatever you say, sugar”

Was this a good idea? Probably not. You’re parents would ironically raise hell over this town once they found out their precious daughter had run off with Rafe fucking Cameron

© 𝐅𝐀𝐖𝐍𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐓, 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟓

[causeimhappinesss]

Rome's Devotion (part 5)

Warnings: Emperors Geta & Caracalla are warnings themselves, (slight?) blasphemy, non-con/dub-con, misogyny (Ancient Rome, so…)

Pairing: Geta x Christian!reader x Caracalla

Words: 6k

Disclaimer: English isn’t my native language (I’m french), so you can correct me if you spot some mistakes :)

Masterlist

-

The weight of warmth presses against me. I blink, disoriented, my body heavy with sleep. The room is still dim, dawn just a whisper behind the thick curtains. It takes a moment for awareness to settle, for the strange pressure against my legs to make sense.

Geta. His leg is tangled with mine, his breathing steady, deep. His face is turned away, the soft rise and fall of his chest the only sign of life. My heart pounds.

Then I feel it… A slow, deliberate press of lips against my neck.

A shiver runs through me. I stiffen, my breath caught in my throat as another kiss follows, then another, soft and unhurried, trailing lower toward my collarbone. My hands clench against the sheets.

“You’re awake.” Caracalla murmurs.

His voice is thick with sleep, but there’s something else in it, something lazy yet possessive. His arm, heavy and unyielding, drapes over my waist, anchoring me in place. I can’t move, not with Geta pressed against one side of me and Caracalla holding me against the other. My pulse races.

“Let me go, please…” I whisper.

Caracalla exhales a quiet laugh against my skin.

“Why should I?”

His lips brush my throat once more before he shifts, forcing me to turn toward him. I try to resist, but his grip is firm, guiding me until my face is inches from his. His eyes, in a dark shade of blue, so sharp, search mine. For a moment, I forget how to breathe. There’s something strange in his gaze, something I don’t understand. A flicker of something almost vulnerable. It vanishes too quickly for me to grasp, replaced by something else, something unreadable. He lifts a hand, his fingers tracing the curve of my cheek. The touch is featherlight, almost reverent. He moves lower, the warmth of his fingertips gliding over my shoulder, his thumb brushing the sensitive skin near my collarbone.

“You’re shaking.” he notes.

I press my lips together, refusing to answer. I can’t let him see the effect he has on me, can’t let him know that my body betrays me in ways my mind cannot control. He smirks, tilting his head slightly.

“Does this frighten you?”

I don’t know what to say. Yes. No. I don’t even know what this is.

He leans in, his breath warm against my lips, but he doesn’t close the distance. He just watches me, his fingers still grazing my skin in slow, lazy strokes, while Geta shifts behind me, murmuring something incoherent in his sleep. Caracalla’s eyes flick toward his brother, then back to me. His expression changes, just for a second, softening at the edges. His grip on me loosens, but he doesn’t pull away. Instead, he studies me as if he’s trying to read something written across my skin. His fingers trail over my skin, rough and calloused from years of wielding a sword. His touch is deliberate, slow, as if he’s savoring every inch of me. I shiver when his hand cups my breast, his thumb brushing over my nipple. I gasp, the sound escaping before I can stop it. My cheeks burn, and I turn my face away, but he catches my chin, forcing me to meet his gaze.

“Look at me.” he commands, his voice low, almost a growl.

His eyes are like the Mare Internum (Mediterranean Sea), hungry, and there’s something wild in them that makes my stomach twist. His smirk is sharp, predatory, as he pinches my nipple between his fingers. I bite my lip to stifle another gasp, but it’s no use. He knows exactly what he’s doing to me.

“Yes, you’re trembling,” he says, his voice dripping with amusement. He leans in, his breath hot against my ear. “Do I frighten you, my little lamb?”

I shake my head, but the lie is obvious. My body betrays me, my nipples hardening under his touch, a warmth pooling low in my belly.

What is that…?

He chuckles, a deep, rumbling sound that sends a shiver down my spine. His hand leaves my breast, and for a moment, I think he’s done. Then, he takes my hand, his grip firm, and presses a kiss to my knuckles, my palm. His lips are soft, but there’s nothing gentle about the way he looks at me.

“Feel this…” he murmurs, he runs my hand over his chest, which is so streaked with chestnut hairs that I wonder if the twins’ hair color is natural. Are they one of those nobles who lighten their hair with urine or other procedures? These thoughts quickly fade away. I prefer to observe his undefined torso, so different from a gladiator’s one, though that doesn’t detract from his angelic beauty... How is it possible for a man inhabited by a demon to look so innocent? His skin is hot, his heartbeat steady and strong beneath my fingertips. He moves my hand lower, over the hard planes of his stomach, until my fingers brush against something else. My eyes widen, and I try to pull away, but he tightens his grip, forcing me to touch him.

“No,” I whisper, my voice trembling. “I’ve never… I-I can’t…”

“You can;” he interrupts, his voice firm. His smirk widens, and there’s a crazed glint in his eyes now, something that makes my heart race. “You will.”

He wraps my hand around his cock, and I gasp at the heat of him, the way he pulses in my grip. He’s hard, thick, and I can feel the veins beneath my fingers. My hand trembles as wraps his around mine, making me stroke his length, his movements slow and deliberate. His breath hitches, and he groans, a low, guttural sound that sends a jolt of heat through me.

I shouldn’t do that… That’s disgusting… That’s… Oh…

“That’s it…” he moans, his voice rough. “Just like that.”

When I try to leave his manhood, his free hand tangles in my hair, pulling me closer until our lips are almost touching. His breath is hot, mingling with mine. His eyes bore into mine, and there’s something dangerous in them, something that makes my stomach clench.

“You belong to me now.” he says, his voice a low growl. “Do you understand?”

I nod, unable to speak, unable to think. His grip on my hand tightens, and he thrusts into my palm, his cock slick with… a liquid. Precum, if I remember what I’ve heard from other women, married servants. His breath comes faster, his hips moving in time with my strokes. His eyes never leave mine, and there’s something in his gaze that makes my heart race, something that makes me feel like I’m falling, tumbling into something I can’t escape.

“Good girl.” he murmurs, his voice thick with desire. “Now, let me show you what it means to be mine.”

What am I doing? God, please, forgive me… Save me… I don’t want to lose my purity…

A sharp knock at the door makes me jump. I tear myself away from Caracalla’s hold, my breath uneven, my heart hammering against my ribs. He tenses but doesn’t move, his eyes still locked on mine. Geta stirs beside me, muttering something under his breath before his eyelids flutter open. His gaze is hazy with sleep until he registers the sound at the door. He blinks, then sits up, raking a hand through his hair. Thankfully, he can’t see anything from our activity under the sheets and he’s too half-wake to notice anything.

“Come inside!” he calls, his voice rough from sleep.

The doors swing open, and a small procession of servants I’ve never steps inside, carrying silver trays laden with bread, fruit, and honeyed wine. Behind them, two women hold garments draped over their arms: tunics made of the finest materials for the emperors, and between them, something else.

A dress.

For me.

I clutch the sheet against my chest as the women move around the room with practiced efficiency. Geta stretches and yawns, barely paying them any mind. Caracalla, still beside me, watches with a lazy smirk, his eyes flicking to the dress before returning to my face.

“Look at that…” he muses. “It seems they expect you to stay.”

I don’t answer. I barely breathe.

The dress is rich, white, simple but more than the regular one I wear. The fabric looks soft, finer than anything I have ever worn. It doesn’t belong to a servant. It belongs to someone meant to be seen.

A woman steps forward, lowering her head slightly. “Would you like assistance, my Augustus? Domina?”

I stiffen. That title does not belong to me. They never spotted me, since we don’t share the same tasks; they are assigned to help the emperors and their mother with getting ready.

Geta notices my hesitation and waves a hand dismissively. “Leave it. She will dress herself.”

The women bow their heads and retreat. The air in the chamber thickens, heavy with the scent of warm bread and spiced wine. Geta is the first to leave the bed to wash his face and dress, while Caracalla acts lazily, but I know the truth: he has to wait for his manhood to soften, since he doesn’t want his brother to find out what he was doing to my poor hand. Slowly, the emperors begin their morning routine, discussing matters of state in low voices as though I am not even here.

I quickly jump out of the bed, hiding my breasts. I take the dress, holding it close, my fingers pressing into the fabric. I quickly slid it on and the moment their attention shifts, I slip away, hurrying toward the servants’ quarters, my heart pounding with every step.

Out of the imperial quarters, nauseas threat to empty my stomach. I can’t believe what I’ve done. What he did.

Am I still pure? Will God forgive? What it is divine protection when the servants came in?

When I reach my quarters to start my day with my first tasks, Claudia waits for me in the corridor, eating an apple, her arms half crossed, her eyes gleaming with curiosity. The moment she sees me, she straightens, stepping forward.

“You’re alive…” she says.

I stop, gripping the dress tighter. My mouth is dry. Claudia’s gaze drops to the fabric in my arms, then back to my face.

“And wearing silk, no less.”

I shake my head, still confused and disgusted about what happened. I feel like a prostitute. Played with, used, and then left on the side. Well, I was the one leaving like a thief, after stealing gold coins, but I couldn’t stand staying there. Not after such a filthy act, not after the way my body reacted to the sin.

“I don’t… I can’t…”

She grabs my arm, pulling me deeper into the room, away from prying eyes.

“Tell me everything.”

I swallow hard. There are no words. No way to explain the weight of last night, the way my body betrayed me, the way their eyes burned into my skin. Claudia tilts her head.

“Did they hurt you?”

I hesitate. The answer should be simple. But nothing about this is simple. My friend exhales sharply.

“Y/N, please.”

I look down at the dress in my hands. The embroidery catches the light, gold threads glinting like a promise or a warning.

I shake my head.

“No, not yet… I want to leave Palatin Hill.” I reveal, in a grimace.

These words feel heavy on my tongue, as if speaking them aloud makes them more dangerous. All things considered, maybe it’s the case. Claudia grabs my hand, leads me to the kitchen so I can grab something to eat and drink, before she sits across from me. She keeps cutting her fruit what a small bronze knife, the blade gleaming in the dim light. She exhales slowly and sets the knife down, wiping her hands on her apron. I’m glad the room is empty, while the servants are probably already making themselves ready for the day, while others, working during the night, are jumping on their beds.

“You know it’s not that simple, right?”

I lift my chin. “It should be.”

A shadow crosses her face and she shakes her head, her lips pressed against each other.

“You will have to speak with the matrona and the Magister Domus. They will decide when, and if, you can go.”

A chill prickles my skin. I curl my fingers into my palms, my nails pressing into flesh.

“Do you think they’ll refuse?”

Claudia hesitates. It is brief, but I catch it, the slight flicker in her gaze, the way her shoulders tense. Instead of saying “no”, she sighs and shrugs.

“I fear the emperors might have already given orders.”

A bitter laugh catches in my throat.

“Of course… But they have no right. I am a free citizen.”

Claudia leans forward, lowering her voice, pointing her finger on me, before shoving a piece of apple in her mouth.

“You are in the imperial palace. Their home. Their world. Do you think that matters?”

“I do not belong to them.” I groan, clenching my jaw.

I’m infuriated, my patience is reaching its limit and the blood in my veins are already boiling. My anger is not directed towards her, but to the evil twins ruling this empire they don’t even deserve. Suddenly, Claudia’s dark eyes soften and she pats my hand.

“But they believe that you do.”

A sick feeling twists in my stomach. My heart hammers against my ribs, a steady, desperate rhythm. I press a hand to my chest, as if I can force it to slow.

“How do I stop them? How do I make them see that I am not theirs to take?”

Claudia’s brows draw together, as if she does not quite understand.

“Why does it frighten you so?”

I blink as I frown, disconcerted. “What?”

She leans back slightly.

“It is inevitable, Y/N. If you give them what they want, they will grow bored. They always do. It would be easier.” She replied with a tone more than practical.

Easier. Spitting on my belief, on my love for Jesus Christ and the Lord is easier… God is powerful, God is kind, but God is not always forgiving as explained in the Exodus.

My skin turns to ice.

“You could take precautions… “ she keeps adding, her voice softer. “Avoid pregnancy. At least then, you would have some control.”

Control. The word rings hollow.

I swallow the lump in my throat, my hands curling into my lap. The silence stretches between us, thick, suffocating. My heart pounds so loudly I fear she can hear it.

“I am a Christian. The society is not my problem.”

Claudia freezes.

For a moment, neither of us moves. Then she slaps a hand over her mouth, eyes darting to the door as if someone might be listening. Her breath comes fast, her chest rising and falling in quick, shallow bursts.

“Are you mad?” she whispers. “Do you have a death wish?”

I shake my head. My pulse throbs in my throat.

“I trust you. I know you won’t tell anyone.”

Her hand drops from her lips. She grips my wrist, her fingers cold and tight.

“Your secret is safe with me, but never, NEVER, say that again. Not to anyone. Do you understand?" she whispers, panicking.

A dry, humorless laugh escapes me. “They already know.”

Claudia’s fingers dig into my skin.

“They’ve known for some time and for some reason, it amuses them.”

She stares at me, horror creeping into her features.

“I guess they think it’s a game.” I sigh before pinching the bridge of my nose.

Her grip on me tightens.

“Gods help you… Because no one else will.”

*

I scrub the floor, the rough bristles of the broom scraping against the smooth stone of the Atrium. Each stroke is a small, rhythmic distraction, the motion almost meditative. The last few days have been a haze of silence. Four days without a single summons from the Emperors. Four days when I could almost pretend I was still myself. Four days of peace I never expected. Peace I didn’t dare hope for.

Claudia works beside me, her hands steady, her eyes lowered, as if she, too, is lost in the stillness of the moment. The palace seems quieter without their voices, without their presence weighing down the air. There’s only the distant hum of servants, the soft shuffle of footsteps from other parts of the palace, but here, in the Atrium, it feels almost... normal. Almost.

Then, the noise comes. Footsteps, heavy, and unmistakable voices, echoing through the hall. I freeze. My heart stutters in my chest. Claudia doesn’t notice at first, but I catch the tension in my shoulders, the way the hairs on the back of my neck prickle. I swallow hard, my breath catching in my throat.

“I have to go quickly.” I whisper, my voice low but urgent. Claudia looks at me, startled by the sudden change in my demeanor. I don’t have to say more. Her eyes widen as she realizes what I mean. She nods sharply, and I move, quick but careful, slipping behind of the doors on each side, separated by magnificent statues. I press myself against the cold stone wall, barely daring to breathe. My heart pounds in my ears, the familiar fear seizing my chest. I can hear their voices now, clear as day. My body stiffen as I edge closer to the door, just enough to see them, to listen.

“You!” Geta’s voice carries, his tone smooth but with an underlying hardness. He’s playing with her, I can tell. “We need your help.”

Claudia hesitates. She’s always been wary of them, but there’s no real escape for her, not when they command her attention like this.

“My Augustus…” she responds cautiously, almost too carefully. “What help do you require?”

Caracalla speaks next, his voice richer, smoother.

“With Y/N.” he says, the name like a sharp, sweet bite in the air. “We need your help to... convince her.”

My breath catches in my throat. I want to pull away, to stop listening, but my body refuses. I’m frozen, trapped between the cold stone wall and the creeping sense of dread.

I almost thought they forgot about me, were already having sex with a new woman to keep their mind busy… How wrong I was!

“Convince her?” Claudia asks, clearly confused. “Convince her of what?”

Geta’s laugh is low, almost playful, but there’s no warmth in it.

“To come willingly,” he says. “We want her. And we want her to believe she’s chosen us.”

Claudia is silent for a long moment. I feel the tension building between them, between her and the two men.

“But Y/N would never…”

“She will.” Caracalla interrupts, his tone firm, the promise in his voice like a command. “She just needs to think it’s her choice.”

Claudia stammers, uncertain.

“But... she’s not... like the others.”

I feel sick. They’re talking about me like I’m some object to be manipulated, to be bent to their will.

Geta doesn’t waste time:

“What do we do to make her believe it? How do we make her want us?”

I flinch at the question. Want them? How could I ever want them? I feel my stomach churn.

“She... she would have to marry you,” she whispers, the words slow and heavy. “That’s the only way she would ever... accept.”

The silence that follows feels suffocating. I want to scream, but I can’t. I can’t make a sound.

Geta scoffs, the sound full of derision.

“Marry her?” he repeats, his voice thick with disbelief. “Why would we marry someone like her?”

Caracalla’s laugh comes again, but it’s not light or amused. It’s cruel.

“What does she have to offer us? She’s a peasant. She has nothing. No alliances. She can’t even read or write properly. Why would we offer her anything more than what we give to our concubines?”

The question hangs in the air, thick and heavy. I feel like I’ve been punched in the gut. Their words are poison, every syllable a knife to my chest.

Claudia tries to defend me.

“She’s... she’s not like that. I’ve told you, she’s different. She…”

Before she can finish, I hear the sudden, sharp sound of a hand being struck. The gasp that follows sends ice through my veins. I don’t dare move, but the panic rises within me.

“Why are you being so difficult, Claudia?” Caracalla growls, his voice low and menacing. “You know what we want. Tell us.”

Claudia’s breath hitches, a shaky sob escaping her.

“I… I’m just trying to be honest. She can… she can read and write a little.”

A deep silence follows, and I feel the weight of their gazes on her, on me.

Geta’s voice cuts through the stillness.

“Interesting for a peasant girl.” he says, his tone mocking.

I press my back harder against the wall, willing myself to disappear. Every part of me aches, every part of me is screaming to run, to escape this suffocating moment. But I can’t move. I can’t do anything except listen. I press myself deeper into the shadows, my heart hammering in my chest, and I barely dare to breathe. The voices of the Emperors are too close, too harsh, too real. I want to move, but my legs feel like stone, unyielding and heavy.

 “W-well, maybe… Maybe you could court her?” Her words come out fast, as if trying to patch a crack in the air before it shatters completely.

For a moment, I think my heart has stopped. Court me? The idea is absurd but could give me time before I find a solution.

Caracalla’s laugh cuts through the stillness, cruel and sharp.

“Court her?” he repeats, almost mockingly. “We don’t even do that with our favorite whores. And they’re far more skilled with mouths and pussies at satisfying us than some virgin woman.”

The words hit like a slap, and I shudder, recoiling in my hiding place, pressing my palms against my heart to drown out the humiliation. How could they talk about me like that? As if I were no more than an object, a thing to be passed around.

Geta’s voice follows, slow, calculating. “We’ll think about it, but right now, we have more important matters to attend to.”

The footsteps grow distant, and I don’t know how much time passes before I dare to move. When I do, my body feels like it’s moving against the pull of the earth, like every step requires all the strength I can summon. I step out of the vestibule, my breath shaky, and find Claudia standing a few paces away. The fear in her eyes is impossible to ignore, but there’s something I can’t quite name. Without thinking, I rush toward her, wrapping my arms around her, pressing my face against her shoulder.

“I’m sorry… I’m sorry for what he did to you... I couldn’t… I was a coward…”

Claudia stiffens at first, her body rigid under my touch. Then, after a long moment, she sighs, a heavy, exhausted sound, and slowly places her hands on my back, returning the embrace. Her touch is soft but strained. She doesn’t speak at first, but when she does, her voice is barely above a whisper.

“It’s not your fault if they are… mean.”

I pull back just enough to look at her, and her eyes full of unsaid things, a detail meant to tear me apart. The shame I feel for not being able to stop what happened presses down on me like a weight.

I shake my head, not sure if the tears that threaten to fall are anger or fear.

“He had no right.”

“Actually, he could… But you don’t understand. When they want something… They are almost unstoppable.” She trails off, swallowing hard.

I want to shout. I want to scream at her that I do understand. I do know. The idea of them wanting to take more than they’ve already taken, my dignity, my freedom, my future, makes my insides twist. But there’s nothing to say. Not now. Not yet. Not until I figure out how to escape this nightmare.

“I’ll be fine. You need to be careful around them.” She adds.

I nod, the weight of her words settling into my chest like a stone. I don’t know how to be careful anymore. The walls are closing in. Every step I take feels like it leads me closer to the very thing I fear. However, as I look at Claudia, my friend, the only person who seems to understand even a little, I know I can’t break. Not yet.

“Thank you, you’re the best.” I whisper, though the words feel empty in my mouth. But I need to say them. I need to believe that she’s not lost to this world just like I feel I am.

“I’m here.” she promises, her hands still warm on my shoulders. “Always.”

I want to believe her. But inside, the fear lingers. I don’t know if anything, anyone, can save me now.

*

I’m pulled from my quarters with a force that’s less a command and more a reminder of what power is… Absolute, unyielding. The praetorian guard shoves me forward, the sound of my sandals on the cold marble floor ringing louder in the oppressive silence of the hallway. As we approach the door, I can already feel the weight of it, the unseen pressure of the Emperor’s command. The guard opens the door to Geta’s private chambers, and I freeze in the doorway.

My gaze falls to the floor immediately. I see her, a woman, naked, moving in a way that burns my skin just from the sight. Her body is pressed against his, the scene like something ripped from the darkest corners of my mind. I don’t know who she is, nor do I care. What matters is the Emperor’s presence, the way the room feels suffocating, heavy with decadence.

“Stay.” Geta commands, his voice sharp and lazy at once, as if this is nothing, as if I’m nothing. “Watch.”

He smiles at the prostitute and she lets herself drink him in, Geta’s cock standing hard and proud. Of course, I’ve seen naked men before, accidentally, but not aroused. It’s the first time I see a manhood straight like that, red, veiny. Suddenly, I feel myself blushing and the memories of what Caracalla did to my hands are eating my soul. My chest tightens, my hands trembling by my sides. I refuse. I start looking at my shoes. The urge to flee grips my insides, but my feet are frozen.

“Junia…” he whispers her name like a prayer, a demand. “On your knees.”

The brunette sinks to the cool marble floor, her eyes never leaving his. Then, his gaze shifts on me, and I can feel the heat radiating off his body. Even if I don’t watch, I know she reaches out a hand, tracing the veins of his cock with a featherlight touch.

“I said, watch.” His voice darkens, smooth like oil, but cutting through the air.

I glance down at my shoes, at the polished leather of them, anything to avoid what’s happening in front of me. Every inch of my skin burns, but I refuse to be the thing they want me to be. A mere witness, a part of their game. I will not. The guard behind me shifts slightly, the presence of him a reminder that I am not in control here. Geta’s voice breaks through again, more insistent, this time tinged with irritation.

“Praetorian, bring her forward.”

The sound of footsteps, then a hand on my shoulder, pushing me forward. My heart races as my body refuses to comply. But the praetorian’s grip tightens, more forceful now. I brace myself, my teeth gritted, but it doesn’t matter. Before I can make a sound, the guard’s hand grips my face, tilting it upwards, forcing my eyes to meet Geta’s. I see him clearly now. His eyes are dark, unreadable, like a predator that has already marked its prey. He smirks, amused at my defiance, a twisted glint in his gaze.

He groans, his hips bucking slightly as she takes him deeper. His breathing becomes shallow as he grabs her hair, guiding her. Geta leans down, his body hovering over hers.

My lips parting, a shallow breath escapes me and I barely swallow my spit.

This is disgusting… Too private… Obscene…

“That’s enough. I want to fuck you. Now!”

The woman pulls back, releasing him with a wet pop.

“Fuck me, my Emperor.” She answers with in a fake whimper.

The concubine or whore climbs onto the bed, straddling him. She sinks down onto him in a moan. Suddenly, I clench my legs, like my jaws, and tear my gaze away. I refuse to look at the woman, refuse to acknowledge the obscene display before me. I stay focus on the whole behind them, on the cool stone, and I shut everything else out. I’d rather face my own death than bow to this.

“You think you’re better than this?” Geta asks, his voice low and mocking, drawing out the words. “You think you can defy me?”

I don’t answer. I can’t bring myself to. I’m suffocating on the words I want to say, but none of them matter. None of it matters. I have to hold on to something, anything.

A tear rolls on my burning cheek.

Even if I don’t watch, I still see the woman rocking her hips faster, harder. The sounds of our pleasure fill the room, her moans mixing with his groans. His hands grip her hips, guiding him, urging her on.

The pressure on my face loosens, the guard finally releasing me, though I can still feel the eyes of the room on me. It’s as if the silence itself is alive, crawling under my skin, making my bones ache.

The whore cries out, before I guess he’s pulling out of her and groans one last time, probably to release his seed on her belly.

Before I can even register their words, he sends her away, she quickly leaves the room, cleaning her abdomen, before she left with the Pretorian guard, closing the door behind them. Geta stands before me, naked and calm, his eyes dark and calculating. He reaches for me again, his hand outstretched like a predator ready to claim his prey. I flinch, pulling back, my pulse quickening in fear. My skin burns where his gaze touches me, but I refuse to let him see that. My eyes are locked firmly on the floor, my hands trembling at my sides.

The idea he just had sex with someone, in front of me, without cleaning himself, almost makes me gag.

“Jealous?” Geta’s voice drips with mockery, low and smooth. “Is that it?”

I bite my lip, forcing myself to stand still, to say nothing. My heart races in my chest, my breath shallow, but I know I mustn’t show him any weakness. Not now, not when I’m so close to losing myself.

“How could I be jealous of a prostitute with no ambitions?”

The words slip out before I can stop them, cold and biting, the way I feel deep inside. There’s no turning back once they’ve been said, and I almost wish I could swallow them, shove them back into the hollow pit where they came from. Surprisingly, Geta doesn’t seem offended, he just chuckles, the sound rich and cruel, like a game to him.

“Ambitions?” He repeats, intrigued, his lips curling into a dangerous smirk. “What are your ambitions, little lamb?”

That ridiculous nickname again!

I steady myself, even as his voice worms its way under my skin. I can feel his gaze on me, but I refuse to lift my head. I have to stay strong, to stay true to myself, no matter how impossible that feels at this moment.

“I want to remain a good woman,” I say, my voice trembling slightly but firm in its resolve. “Chaste until my marriage. A respectable mother.”

Even though sex is part of our society, and most people talk about it very freely, without any taboos, women have to remain virgins until they get married. Even a widow can’t take lovers without running the risk of being treated like a whore or having her reputation tarnished. Some would even be punished. So many headwinds within the Empire.

Geta’s laugh rings out, sharp and mocking, as if the very idea of someone like me wanting something so pure is laughable.

“Complicated in a city like Rome with all its debauchery, its opulence, its luxury…” His voice drops, darkening. “You’ll have to get used to it.”

His hands suddenly grip my hips, pulling me toward him, too close. The heat of his body radiates against mine, and I feel as though I’m suffocating, drowning in his touch. My chest tightens, my breath coming in short gasps, but I can’t move. I can’t escape. I try to pull away, but he holds me firm, his touch possessive, forcing me to stay. My pulse races in panic, but I don’t show him the fear that grips my insides. I turn my head slightly, my voice tight as I respond:

“I don’t want your city. I don’t want your luxury.”

“I don’t care about what you want.” Geta whispers, his breath hot against my ear, his lips brushing my skin, sending a shiver down my spine. “You’re mine now. You’ll learn to accept it.”

I try to breathe, to ground myself at this moment, when suddenly, the door crashes open with a violent slam, and a flood of air rushes into the room, breaking the tension.

Caracalla storms in, eyes wild and frantic, his movements erratic. He’s like a child, throwing a tantrum, and for a moment, I almost can’t believe what I’m seeing. His face is twisted in anger, and his fists are clenched at his sides as he paces back and forth, like an animal caged and desperate for release.

“What are you doing?” Caracalla shouts, his voice cracking with emotion. “Why are you stealing her from me when I’m not around?!”

His eyes are wide, frantic with jealousy, and he raises his hands as though to strike something, anything.

“She’s mine, not yours! Why are you taking her?”

His voice rises with every word, full of rage and something deeper: hurt, jealousy, confusion. It’s as if all the carefully constructed walls of power and dominance have crumbled around him, leaving only the raw, childish tantrum of a spoiled boy who doesn’t get what he wants.

Is he reliving what his father did to them when they were children and he was sleeping with the damsel for whom they had developed feelings? Childish, insignificant feelings, because she would never have them other than as kids.

His pale face reddens, and for a moment, I almost expect him to start crying, like a child denied his toy. The sight of it shocks me, but it also sends a flicker of fear through me. Meanwhile, Geta looks unfazed, his face more serious. He doesn’t move, just watches Caracalla with a strange, calculating gaze, as though waiting for the tantrum to pass.

But this is my chance.

I don’t think or hesitate. The moment Caracalla turns his back to me, going straight to his twin in his fit of jealousy, I run for the door, my heart pounding so loudly I can barely hear anything else. My legs ache from the sudden burst of movement, and my breath comes in sharp gasps as I run, not daring to look behind me. I just need to get away, need to be free of this suffocating place, these suffocating men.

Behind me, I hear the heavy footfalls of the guards that did not react fast enough, probably too stunned, the sound of their boots slapping against the stone floor. I don’t look back. I can’t. If I do, I know I’ll lose the one thing I have left, my chance to escape.

I round the corner of the hallway, my breath catching in my throat, but my feet keep moving, keep running. I don’t know where I’m going, don’t know how far I can go before they catch me, but all I know is that for the first time in what feels like an eternity, I’m running toward something.

-

The poor reader is definitely traumatized by these two perverts! The smut's coming, but slowly, like I said ;) Did you like these smut scenes? Which one do you prefer? I've already started working on the next part, so it will be publish soon, once again!

My AO3: BetrayedWriter

My Instagram: carolinemertz_

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⚔️ Taglist: @duckyhowls @babey-fruit-bat, @punk-in-docs, @t6gse370, @angelcloudxxsblog, @miragens-para-uma-vitoria, @himikoquack, @chloe-skywalker, @bocreep, @littlemissholy

[little-diable]

Think I'm in love with you - Dean Winchester (smut)

Requested by lovely @foxyjwls007 for my birthday bash. The lyrics are from Chris Stapleton's song "Think I'm in love with you". Please like and reblog if you enjoyed reading this, your comments keep us writers motivated! Enjoy my loves. xxx

Summary: Pwp, the reader confesses her love for Dean in the middle of a fight

Warnings: 18+, smut, oral (m), idiots in love

Pairing: Dean Winchester x fem!reader (800 words)

“You don’t get it, do you? You don’t fucking get it!” Her voice filled the motel room, angry eyes set on Dean’s frowning features. He kept quiet, pondering over her words while caught up in a storm of emotions he had tried to run from ever since he had met (y/n) all those months ago. For a second, his eyes flickered towards the door, something she easily picked up on. “Don’t you dare run again, Dean. Not this time.”

“(Y/n),” he mumbled her name like a silent plea, begging her to stop rambling. But the damage was done, there was no way out of the grave she had dug for them, unable to forget the words she had tried to hold back for too long now. “What do you want from me?”

“What I want? Jesus, Dean. Everything, I want it all. And I am so sick and tired of you ignoring it. Don’t you see it? I wanna make your dreams come true, I think I'm in love with you, you fucking idiot.” It took Dean exactly three seconds to move, to cross the short distance between them. His lips were soft against hers, even though the kiss was anything but soft or sweet - no, it was fuelled by the desire both had tried to tame for the past months. 

Without breaking the kiss, Dean pushed her down on the old bed they had been sharing for two nights now. He pressed himself close, weight shifted onto his forearm while his tongue met hers over and over again. She didn’t give him a warning before shuffling around, set on straddling his waist. 

“Say something, please, Dean.” He cupped her warm cheeks, staring up at her with a gaze filled with adoration. Her trembling fingers clung to his shirt, tugging on the fabric but not moving it off his body just yet, desperately wanting to hear his raspy voice. 

“I love you too, sweetheart. Always have.” It was all she needed, a confession that made her heart skip a beat or two. Dean’s shirt was ripped from his frame, with (y/n)’s following moments later. His big hands felt all too unfamiliar on her skin, but she couldn’t worry about it now, all she could focus on was freeing his cock and getting her mouth on him just like she had dreamt of doing for years. 

Dean raised his hips for her, allowing (y/n) to pull his trousers and underwear down his strong legs before straddling his thighs. Just the sight alone drew heat down to her core, watching Dean lay below her, spread out and naked - all for her. A dream come true, something she had never dared to speak of until this very day.

Her lips kissed their way down his stomach, trying to ignore the numerous freckles she swore to eventually count, all until she reached his hardening cock. Their eyes met as she spat down on him, letting her saliva drip down his length to lube up her movements. For a second, (y/n) thought about teasing him and taking her sweet time, but the impatient jerks of his hips forced her to move faster.

“Christ, sweetheart, if you keep up this pace this will be over very soon.” She could only chuckle at his words, too mesmerized by the feeling of his skin pressed against her, by the short breaths leaving him over and over again, and the unmistaken love swimming in his pupils. (Y/n) brought her mouth down to his cock, licking at his tip to get a taste of him for the first time, before slowly taking more of him. 

The second she gagged around him, Dean let his head fall back against the pillow. The deep groan he let go of could have made her cum right at that moment, instantly spiralling from the way he exposed his every emotion to her, something she interpreted as a clear sign of trust. (Y/n) was fully mesmerized by Dean, staring at him with glassy eyes as she bobbed her head, set on making him cum with her mouth. 

“(Y/n),” he panted her name, eyes rolling back into his head to get swallowed by a blanket of darkness. He jerked against her tongue, about to cum down her throat with another raspy moan, something she found herself aching for. (Y/n) gagged around him again, letting her tears roll down her cheeks all while Dean was overpowered by his orgasm. 

He came down her throat, choking on his moan while she didn’t dare move away. She greedily swallowed every drop, parting with a pout as Dean pulled her away from his cock to kiss her. 

“Fuck, I love you, sweetheart.”

[sai-int]

(my ask box ate your ask :/) @siriusxmunofficial said that heartbeat by childish gambino reminds them of douchebag!simon, and I couldn't agree more.

cw : groveling simon, swearing, fighting and fucking (the usual), should be read as a continuation of 'checkmate'

his flat is dark, the air thick with the stale stench of cheap whiskey and regret. it's been days, maybe a week, since he last heard from you. he hasn’t eaten in days, just shot after shot, pulling back on the glass like it’ll erase whatever ache’s settling into his chest. he hasn’t left the couch. hasn’t even bothered to try to think straight.

all he can think about is you.

your name keeps flashing across his phone, texts unanswered, calls ignored. he just knows that it’s breaking him. that his chest feels hollow every time he looks at his phone and sees the missed calls.

and the worst part? he doesn’t even know why it hurts this much. it’s just sex, right? just sex. he’s had countless women, countless bodies, nothing more than a warm hole to fuck until he’s bored. you were just a distraction, something to pass the time until the next job, the next drink, the next moment where he could bury himself in something else

but he’s not bored of you. and that’s the problem.

simon’s drunk, the bottle in his hand heavy, its contents burning down his throat in a desperate attempt to erase the memory of you. but it doesn’t work. nothing works. he brought home another girl to fill the void, some chick with a short skirt and cheap perfume from the pub, someone who doesn’t matter, someone who definitely isn't you.

her moans were too high-pitched, her cunt too loose. she didn't clench around him like you did, didn't claw at his back like you would. she wasn’t you. nothing about her was you. the way you moved, the way your body fit under his. not even close to what you gave him. she’s nothing. but he uses her, fucks her like it’s the only thing keeping him from shattering. the moment she leaves his flat, he kicks over a chair, fuming. nothing means a damn thing without you. he doesn't even realize what it is, this ache for you.

it’s just sex.

it’s not.

he can feel it. he’s desperate for you. the rush, the high, the fucking need that keeps clawing at his heart and his dick at the same time, but he doesn’t let himself think about the heart part for too long. not yet. because thinking means acknowledging the one thing he’s been too fucking proud to admit: he’s emotionally fucked up over you.

meanwhile, you’re dodging him.

you’ve been dodging his calls for days. countless calls in one night, and you just hung up each time, guilt tugging at you with every unanswered ring. he’s desperate, and you’re slowly pulling away. but you’re not blocking him. not fully. something about his name still makes you pause, still makes you want to answer and fall back into those habits you’re fighting to leave behind.

you miss him. not in the way you want to, though. in the way he wants you to. you miss the adrenaline, the chaos. the fucking rush of being wanted by someone like him. that intoxicating feeling of being his, even when you knew you weren’t.

but you’re done. you have to be.

you take a breath, head in your hands after the fifth call that night. you can’t take it anymore. it’s getting harder to ignore the ache inside you. you just want it to stop.

there’s a knock. its well past 12 and you aren't expecting anyone. you hesitate, fingers shaking as you grip the handle. and there he is.

simon. standing in your doorway, hand on the frame like he can't stand on his own

his face is lined with exhaustion and guilt, the rough edges of his demeanor even sharper tonight. he’s a goddamn mess and something cracks in you. he’s drunk and those eyes that usually look so fucking cold are filled with something else, something you can’t name.

"why’re y' ignoring me, baby?" his voice is rough, strained, his words slurring like he's barely holding it together. he pushes past you and into your flat like it's his right, pacing and running his hands through his hair like it'll give him answers. "t... talk t'me, please?"

you sigh as he stumbles in, fists clenched at your sides as you slam the door shut. "you’re really gonna show up at my door like this?" your voice cracks, but you don’t care. "you’re gonna waltz back into my life after you ruined me, and now you want me to just- what? forgive you?"

he opens his mouth to say something but stops. looks away. like he’s trying to find the right words. and when he looks back at you, there’s something in his eyes. something that makes your heart race even though you want to scream at him

"i dunno what the hell this is anymore," he spits out, frustration clear in his tone. "but i want y'back, i fuckin’- im tryin' t'fix this, doll , i-"

"fix it?" you laugh, bitter and hollow. "you don’t get to fix shit, simon. you’ve done enough damage already. you don’t want more, and you never did. what about me? what the fuck about me?"

he steps forward, his body pressing against yours, his hands smooth over your hair. "i never meant t'hurt ya. i’m just…" he trails off, free hand running through his own hair, frustration spilling over. "i dunno know how t'fix this- I miss y'so mu-"

you can’t stop it. you can’t hold it in anymore.

"you fucking miss me? is that it? you miss my cunt? you miss getting your dick wet? because you sure as hell don’t miss me." you’re crying now, tears slipping down your cheeks, mixing with the anger that’s been building up for so long.

you shove him back, hands shaking as you push the words out. "i wanted more, simon. more than just sex. i wanted something real. but you couldn’t give it to me and i can’t keep pretending that I’m okay with being nothing more than another notch on your fucking belt."

you turn away, hot, salty tears spilling as you struggle to catch your breath. this was supposed to be it. you were supposed to be done with him. but the moment his hands are on you, pulling you back against him, the fight drains out of you.

"y'think i don’t want more, yeah?" simon’s voice is a low growl in your ear as he spins you to face him, tugging you flush with him, kissing the side of your neck with urgency. "y'think i don’t want you?" he kisses you harder, sucking and nipping with a kind of desperation you’ve never seen before. "all of you?" it’s not the gentle caress you want.

"you smell like a cheap whore." your voice wavers, barely audible.

there’s a long, torturous silence and his lips still against you. you almost think he’s going to turn heel and walk away. but then he hooks his finger under your chin, snapping your face to his.

"and you smell like my captain."

and then his mouth is on yours, hot and desperate, like he’s trying to breathe you in, like he’s trying to make up for everything. and for a second, it’s almost like it’s all okay.

but it’s not. it’ll never be okay.

you’re kissing him back before you can even stop yourself, your fingers intertwine with his locks as the cycle starts all over again, and before you know it, you're both stumbling to your bedroom. you’re both still so fucking angry, but the need for each other is stronger than anything, especially now. simon’s kissing you like he’s starving, pushing you down onto the bed, his hands shaking as he pulls you under him.

and just like that, you’re back in his arms, back to what it always was.

and you let him. you let him take, because it feels like you’re being seen in a light no one else can see you in.

and then, as he's ripping your clothes off,

"this is just sex,' he mutters against your lips, but his voice falters like he doesn't even believe it himself. "just fucking sex."

you know, deep down, you’re not just some toy to him. and you’re not just a fuck to him either. you've always seen him for what he is, the mess he’s trying to hide. and you’re not gonna let him fuck this up again.

this time, when he fucks you, it’s different. it’s rougher, sure, but there’s something else in it. a quiet plea that he’s not ready to admit. and maybe, just maybe, you’ll let him prove himself. because you both know you’re stuck in this loop together.

maybe you’ll never get out of it.

and maybe you just don't want to.

douchebag!simon mlist

[writeriguess]

hey! im so glad to hear you’re back to writing again!! your writings became such an act of comfort into my daily routine before so im so so happy you’re back!! <33

may i request eijirou kirishima x reader (in an established relationship) whereby after a date night, reader uses the train to go home and bf kiri accompanies her but the train was packed and the reader feels someone inappropriately touches her which made her uncomfortable, and kiri notices so he sorta swap sides with reader and comfort her, etc (it’s up to you on how you’d like to end it!)

author's note: I'm glad too <3 Thank you.

Steel and Shelter

The night had been perfect. A dinner date with Eijirou Kirishima always meant good food, warm laughter, and stolen kisses beneath city lights. You clutched his arm as you both walked toward the train station, your heart full from the joy of the evening. His hand rested over yours, thumb brushing your knuckles in absentminded affection. Even after months of dating, the little things he did still made your chest flutter.

"Did you have fun?" Kirishima asked, grinning down at you as the two of you descended the stairs into the station.

"Of course!" you beamed, squeezing his arm. "You always make date nights the best."

His cheeks dusted pink at your praise, and he let out a bashful chuckle. "Well, yeah, I gotta treat my girl right."

The station was busier than expected for this hour, but the two of you managed to slip onto the next arriving train. Unfortunately, it was packed. People stood shoulder to shoulder, filling every available inch of space. You barely had time to hold onto the overhead rail before the train lurched forward, pressing passengers even closer together.

Kirishima was right beside you, one hand gripping the rail, the other placed protectively behind you so you wouldn’t be jostled too much. It was a tight fit, but at least you weren’t alone.

Or so you thought.

A sudden, uncomfortable sensation made your stomach drop. A hand—one that definitely didn’t belong to Kirishima—skimmed against your hip before brushing over your lower back. Your muscles locked up as a sickening chill crawled up your spine. At first, you wanted to believe it was an accident. The train was crowded, people were pressed too close together—but then it happened again. This time, the touch was deliberate, lingering where it had no right to be.

Your fingers clenched the strap of your bag, your breath hitching. Panic coiled in your chest, but before you could react, Kirishima's voice cut through the heavy air.

"Hey, babe, switch with me."

His tone was light, casual even, but his crimson eyes were sharp, locked onto something—or rather, someone—behind you. Without question, you stepped aside as he maneuvered himself between you and the faceless stranger. His body was firm and unmovable, effectively shielding you. The warmth of his presence chased away the cold fear that had gripped you just moments ago.

You exhaled shakily, pressing closer to him. He didn’t say anything at first, just gently tucked you under his arm, his palm resting on your lower back in silent reassurance. But you could feel the tension radiating from him, the rigid set of his jaw, the barely restrained fury in the way his fingers flexed against your waist.

The next stop arrived, and as people shuffled to get off, Kirishima subtly adjusted his stance, maneuvering the two of you near the door. When the train emptied slightly, he finally turned his head just enough to glance at you.

"You okay?" His voice was softer now, laced with concern.

You nodded, though your throat was still tight. "I just...I felt—"

"I know," he murmured, eyes darkening. "I saw."

A flash of regret crossed his face, like he blamed himself for not noticing sooner, but he didn’t dwell on it. Instead, he reached down, intertwining his fingers with yours and giving them a reassuring squeeze. "I’ve got you."

The sincerity in his words made your chest ache. Kirishima had always been your safe place, your unshakable rock. Right now, his presence alone made it easier to breathe.

As the train neared your stop, he leaned down, pressing his lips against your temple. "When we get off, let’s take a longer route home. I don’t want you walking alone, and I could use some fresh air."

It was his way of making sure you were okay, without outright saying he wanted to keep you close for a little longer. You smiled up at him, nodding. "I’d like that."

When the doors opened, he guided you out, his arm still around you. The city air felt liberating compared to the stifling atmosphere of the train. And as the two of you walked, Kirishima kept you close, his presence a silent promise—one of safety, of love, and of unwavering protection.

Because with him, you were never alone.

[heartsforjh]

reader having big crowd anxiety and qhughes picking up on it leading her through the crowd? 🥲

here you go nonnie! i hope you like! :)

main masterlist | 100 follower celly masterlist

As your boyfriend opens the door for you, a wave of loud talking and laughter hits you immediately. It always amazes you how many people come to these events for Quinn’s work. It’s easy to forget the amount of effort that goes into those fun little games on ice.

You step inside, glancing around as the herd of people closest to the door turns toward you. Naturally, their gaze lingers on Quinn—and then shift to you, standing right beside him. Quinn waves to a few people as the two of you move deeper into the room.

“We’ve gotta find the guys. They’re around here somewhere,” Quinn says, scanning the room.

You nod quickly. Surely being around familiar faces will help ease the nerves that are already starting to build up from all of the attention.

You squeeze his hand, trying to focus on the warmth and pressure of his grip as he holds yours. “Yeah, let’s find them.”

He leads you through the bustling crowd until he eventually spots Elias Pettersson and Conor Garland.

“Hey, you two,” Conor greets, pulling both you and Quinn in for hugs, with Petey following suit.

Quinn’s hand finds its place on your waist as he settles into conversation with his friends. You chime in here and there when something catches your interest, the comfort of their company gradually putting you at ease.

For a while, you feel better, laughing and chatting with the small group. But that changes the second your purse slips from your hand and falls to the ground with a thud. Instinctively, you look around to see if anyone notices, expecting a few fleeting glances.

Your stomach drops when you’re reminded just how many people are around, and they’re all staring. Not just glancing, but staring. Why are they staring? Their eyes linger, waiting—maybe for you to pick it up. The pit in your stomach grows as you start wondering what they might be thinking.

Your chest immediately tightens. The room feels louder and everyone seems closer. When did they get so close? Your chest moves up and down rapidly, desperately trying to get a full breath, but the air gets stuck in your throat.

“Babe, you okay?” Quinn’s voice cuts through the haze, grounding you.

You blink, and suddenly the world is back in focus. He’s holding your purse, having picked it up amidst your small panic.

“I’m- I’m fine,” you stammer, unconvincingly.

Quinn’s eyes search yours, concern etched across his face. “You’re shaking, sweetheart.” His tone is gentle, careful not to draw any more unwanted attention to you.

“I told you—I’m okay,” you insist, but your body betrays you with a slight sway.

Quinn sighs softly, placing his hands on your hips to steady you. “Well, this isn’t okay with me. Come on, let’s go talk.”

Taking your hand, he quietly leads you out of the crowded party room and into the hallway.

Once outside, you squeeze your eyes shut for a moment, trying to calm your racing heart. “Quinn, we don’t have to do this. We should go back in—this is for your job.”

“Y/n, baby, we can go if that’s what you need. It’s just a New Year’s party. We’ll do our own New Years at home,” he assures you, brushing a strand of hair from your face.

You sigh, guilt creeping in. “I just feel selfish. You’re the face of the Canucks—people are going to stare. You shouldn’t have to miss this just because I’m… freaking out.”

Quinn shakes his head, his thumbs brushing against your cheeks as he cups your face in his hands. “You don’t have to get used to anything. You’re dealing with something, and that’s okay. You’re not doing anything wrong. Besides, I can’t enjoy this if I know my girl’s struggling, can I?”

His words melt some of your worries, and a small smile breaks through. “No, I guess not.”

“Also,” he adds with a small grin, “between you and me, I didn’t want to come to this thing anyway.”

You raise an eyebrow, feigning offense. “Wow, so you’re just using me as an excuse to ditch?!”

“What? No! That’s not what I was trying to say! I meant—” his eyes widen, and he fumbles over his words, making you giggle.

“You know what I meant!” he huffs, shaking his head. “You’re a jerk.”

“It was just a joke!” you tease, still laughing as you walk towards the exit with him, hand-in-hand.

Quinn gives a small, dramatic pout. “Why are you so mean to me?”

“I’m not mean to you! I was kidding!” you repeat while laughing even more at his reaction.

Secretly, he’s overjoyed to hear you laughing, even if it is at his expense. He’d gladly let himself be the punchline to your jokes as long as he gets to hear that favorite sound of his.

tags: @beenucks @lukey-pookie-hughes43 @sweetestdesire @azure-dawn81 @emsdevs @puckmedude @joesnumerouno @alex-wotton @r0wdymaize86 @ccomandercody @macklin-celebrini-71 @randomcuboidshape @when-im-with-you @quillycrow @rainyvalentines @alwaysclassyeagle

join the taglist here! :)

[come-as-you-are-111]

do a minsu x reader where minsu cry’s over smth and reader hugs and comforts him because he isn’t afraid to cry and he falls in love with her cause she i kind and sweet and she’s had a crush on him

Falling For You

Warnings: ABSOLUTELY NOTHING!!

The dorm is quieter than usual. It’s one of those rare moments between games where no one is talking, no one is fighting—just the sound of slow breathing, the occasional rustle of blankets, and the quiet weight of survival sinking in.

And then, you see him.

Min-Su sits on the edge of his bunk, hunched forward, his elbows resting on his knees. His hands are clasped together, fingers anxiously twisting the fabric of his jumpsuit. His head is bowed low, his shoulders rising and falling with unsteady breaths.

You hesitate.

It’s not often you see someone openly upset here. People usually swallow their emotions, bury them deep down, because in the Squid Game, weakness is dangerous. It’s a place that forces you to be numb, to pretend you don’t feel a damn thing.

But Min-Su isn’t like the others.

He always felt things deeply, and he wasn’t afraid to show it. And that’s exactly why you’re drawn to him.

Taking a quiet step closer, you lower your voice. “Min-Su?”

His head lifts slightly, and even in the dim light, you catch the faint shine of tears before he quickly wipes them away with the sleeve of his jumpsuit.

“Sorry,” he mutters, his voice rough, unsteady. “I know it’s stupid to get emotional here.”

Your heart clenches. “It’s not stupid.”

You sit beside him, close enough that your knee brushes his, but you don’t press him to talk. You just wait, letting him decide if he wants to let you in.

For a moment, all he does is exhale slowly, rubbing a hand down his face before finally whispering, “It’s just… everything. The games. The people we’ve lost. And I keep wondering if I’ll make it out—if any of us will.”

He shakes his head, staring down at his hands. “I don’t want to be another nameless body on the floor.”

There’s something so heartbreakingly human in the way he says it, and before you can stop yourself, you reach out—your fingers gently curling around his hand.

His breath hitches at the contact, his gaze flickering to yours, but he doesn’t pull away. If anything, he leans into it, like he needs it.

And then you move without thinking, wrapping your arms around him, pulling him into a firm, warm embrace.

At first, he freezes, like he’s not used to this kind of comfort. But then, ever so slowly, he lets go—his hands gripping the back of your jumpsuit as if holding onto you is the only thing keeping him grounded.

His breath is warm against your shoulder, uneven, but he doesn’t hide it. He doesn’t try to mask the way his body trembles slightly against yours.

“I hate that we’re stuck in this place,” you murmur against his shoulder. “But I’m glad I met you.”

His arms tighten around you, as if those words alone are enough to steady him. When he finally pulls back, his eyes search yours—soft, vulnerable, something unspoken lingering between you.

“You mean that?”

You nod, your heart hammering.

You’d had a crush on Min-Su since the moment you first spoke to him—since you realized he wasn’t like the others. He wasn’t ruthless. He wasn’t selfish. He cared.

And right now, looking at you like this, something in his gaze shifts—like he’s seeing you in a way he never has before.

“You’re too kind for this place,” he whispers, his fingers still gently holding onto your sleeve. “That’s why I—” He stops himself, shaking his head with a small, breathless laugh. “I think I’m falling for you.”

Your stomach flips, warmth spreading through your chest, but it’s more than just a crush now. It’s something real, something that exists despite the chaos around you.

Swallowing the lump in your throat, you squeeze his hand. “Then at least we’re in this together.”

And for the first time in days, he smiles.

A/n: hi my lil monsters! How we likey? First min-su fic and this request is honestly so cute and I just knew I had to do it! If you have any request send em in!

Love ya, Twilight

squid game taglist:

@amoristt @lousypotatoes @infinetlyforgotten @mirahyun @takuma-talkz @sxmmerchxld @multifandomgirllol @gizaspicebag @truefandemonium

[gothicxreylover]

Hello. Can you do a Yandere tengen+ his wives with an s/o, who is a bit shy and submissive maybe?

Thank you

“Dazzling Devotion” – Yandere Tengen + His Wives with a Shy, Submissive S/O (Fluff)

Life with Tengen and his wives was… overwhelming in the best way possible. They were expressive, bold, and unapologetic about their love for you, constantly finding ways to dote on you even when your shy nature made you flustered beyond belief.

You were their precious little darling, and they thrived on your soft-spoken words, your hesitant glances, and the way you melted under their touch.

Because no matter how much you tried to shrink away or hide, they would always bring you right back into their arms.

Tengen Uzui – The Flamboyant Protector

Tengen was the worst when it came to respecting your personal space. If he wanted your attention, he was getting it, whether that meant effortlessly lifting you onto his shoulder or twirling you around in his arms like you weighed nothing.

“Ahh, there’s that adorable expression I love so much,” he teased, grinning as he tilted your face up with a finger, making you look at him. “No need to be so shy, my little love. You belong in my arms.”

He lived for the way your cheeks burned, for the way you struggled to meet his intense gaze. It only made him want to tease you more, to pull you impossibly closer until you had no choice but to accept the overwhelming devotion he poured onto you.

And the way you submitted to his touch, so obediently and sweetly, sent a thrill down his spine.

“You’re too good for this world,” he’d murmur against your temple, voice softer than usual. “But don’t worry, we’ll protect you from anything that tries to take you away from us.”

Hinatsuru – The Gentle Nurturer

Hinatsuru had a way of making you feel safe, her love manifesting in quiet, tender gestures that melted away any anxieties.

If the others overwhelmed you too much, she was always there to pull you into a warm embrace, stroking your back soothingly. “It’s alright, Y/N,” she’d whisper, resting her chin atop your head. “You don’t have to say anything. Just let me hold you.”

She loved how you would unconsciously lean into her touch, seeking comfort in her presence. Every time you shyly reached for her hand, she would squeeze it reassuringly, as if silently telling you: I’m right here. You don’t have to be nervous.

She always noticed when you were too flustered to ask for attention, so she made sure you never had to. Whether it was preparing your favorite tea, brushing your hair, or wrapping you up in a blanket while resting her head against your shoulder, she showed her love in ways that spoke directly to your heart.

And if she saw even a hint of discomfort, she wouldn’t hesitate to softly scold the others. “Tengen, Makio, Suma… give them a little space,” she’d say with a smile, though her tone was firm. “You don’t want to overwhelm them too much, do you?”

But deep down, she loved your flustered reactions just as much as the others. She just preferred to earn your trust, coaxing you into accepting her love until you willingly sought her out on your own.

Makio – The Feisty Tease

Makio loved how submissive you were, but at the same time, it infuriated her how you never asserted yourself. She saw it as both adorable and frustrating.

“You’re too damn cute for your own good,” she huffed, arms crossed as she tapped her foot impatiently. “Seriously, how am I supposed to not smother you when you get all shy like that?”

She wasn’t one to coddle, but she was one to get possessive. If anyone else outside their relationship made you blush, she was instantly throwing an arm around your shoulder and pulling you close, shooting a glare that dared anyone to even look at you the wrong way.

If she really wanted attention, she’d be so dramatic about it. “Oi, if you don’t hug me right now, I’m not letting go of you all night,” she’d threaten.

Of course, you’d end up in her arms either way, her grip tight and unyielding as she nuzzled into your neck. “There we go,” she murmured, voice softening. “I knew you wanted to be close.”

And the moment you finally, shyly, hugged her back?

Her heart melted into a puddle.

Suma – The Clingy Crybaby

Suma was, without a doubt, the most dramatic when it came to your shy nature.

The first time she realized how submissive you were, she nearly burst into tears. “H-Hina! Makio! Tengen-sama! Y/N is bullying me by being so cute!” she wailed, flailing dramatically before throwing herself into your arms.

She was constantly clinging to you, whether it was linking her arms with yours, resting her head on your lap, or straight-up wrapping herself around you like a koala.

“I can’t help it!” she’d whine whenever the others scolded her for overwhelming you. “They’re just so soft and sweet and perfect!”

Despite her dramatics, she was also the most vocal about how much she loved you. If you so much as looked at her with those shy, unsure eyes, she was instantly showering you with affection.

And if you ever, ever initiated affection first?

Suma would malfunction, her entire face turning red before she inevitably burst into happy tears, clinging to you even tighter.

“You love me that much?!” she’d cry, sniffling as she buried her face in your chest. “I knew it! I knew you loved me!!”

A Love That Envelops You

Between the four of them, you were absolutely spoiled with affection.

They knew you were shy, but they adored that about you. They thrived on the way you hid your face when flustered, the way your voice wavered when they overwhelmed you with compliments.

But they also treasured you, showering you with warmth and reassurance whenever you felt uncertain.

No matter what, they would always pull you into their arms, into the safety of their unbreakable devotion.

Because you were theirs—their precious, shy, perfect little love.

[hello-gloomy]

Not Everyone Is a Genius

Dr. Xeno Houston Wingfield x Neutral!Reader

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Description: You be honest to Xeno to what's on your mind and his answer surprises you.

Warnings: Slight angst, mild horny, SCIENCE, maybe OOC of course. SPOLIERS FOR THE MANGA.

A/N: If your not far in the manga or season 4 anime deffo don't read this it's probably only mild Mentions of stuff but still just to be safe, also Xe might be a bit OOC.

Word: 700

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"What are you doing?" Xeno asks as he walks entirely inside your shared bedroom to get a better look at your current position on the floor. Your back is against the floor, and your legs are pressed upwards against the wall. You twist your head away from the book you were writing to look at him; you don't feel as dizzy as you would be if you were hanging upside down.

"Letting the blood rush down my legs so they don't hurt, " you deadpan, tiredly. All this moon mission madness has everyone working to death 24/7 with hardly any breaks, and it's starting to get exhausting. But nobody has the heart to ask the science group to slow down a bit, especially not since everyone is finally on good terms with Stanley after the original debacle.

He hums while removing his gloves and setting them on the dresser near where you lie. "Elevating your feet allows gravity to reduce excess fluid from your legs back into your heart," he starts, and you can't help but smile at his small lecture, his voice soothing your stress-induced headache. Closing your eyes and breathing deeply, you let him move around the room and finish talking about the benefits of your actions, swaying you into calmness. You only open your eyes when you hear him groan quietly and sit down upright against the wall where your legs rest, his bare hand smoothing over the skin of your calves, then to the swell of your thighs, and lastly to your sternum. You throw a hand over your face and let out a little whimper at his touch.

"How was your day?" he asks quietly, continuing to rub your legs. You sigh through your nose and uncover your eyes to look at his pale face, tracing your eyes over the 'X.' marking its upper half; you chew your lip before mumbling out a half-assed 'fine' to him and turning your head away.

"Did you know your heart rate increases when you lie?" he asks, subtly rubbing your wrist now, which makes your heart jump in your chest more so than when you lied to him.

"Do you want to tell me what's wrong, or should I go about this using a trial and error method as I usually do?" He puts his hand beside your head, leaning over you and giving you options.

"I'm tired, Xeno," You blink back the tears before continuing, "So fucking tired and in pain. This space mission you guys have planned is draining; I know it may not seem that way to all you science guys in the lab, but to all of us that you have been doing all the manual labor for this project is getting exhausting, not just me but for everyone as well. Morale is low, and it's getting harder to ignore." You vent, your body aching just thinking about the rest of the endeavor you must deal with; you spare him a glance and see him watching you intently.

"I'm sorry." You snap your head up in surprise and slip your legs off at the words that just came from him; he moves to hold both of your hands in his, rubbing at them before looking back up at you.

"I'll talk to Senku and the others about taking a short break for morale." You blink in surprise, taken aback by how easily he came to this conclusion. He laughs lightly at your reaction before pulling you in for a kiss. This was a different man from the one you knew a few years ago, and it made you happy to see him changing for the better, mellowing out a bit for your sake. You wipe your eyes before pressing your forehead to his and smiling at the man you chose to fall in love with.

"Would you like to take a bath, my dear?"

"In a 'horny' way or like 'I'll take care of you' kind of way?" You jest gently, and he, in turn, covers his mouth in silent laughter.

"Whichever gets you to produce plenty of oxytocin."

"I love it when you talk dirty to me." He starts full-on dying at that.

[jjjjeonww]

give uji~!!! uji juseyoooo~~

i had no idea whether anon was asking for pics of jihoon or not but i came up with this LOL (also this was made like 5 minutes b4 i went to sleep so...) .....

woozi sat hunched over his guitar, fingers absently plucking at the strings as he stared blankly at the lyrics scrawled in his notebook. the words seemed to blur before his eyes, mirroring the turmoil in his heart. you and him had been together for four wonderful years, but lately, everything felt like it was unraveling.

you, with your captivating eyes, had always been the vibrant center of his world. you were an ambivert, thriving on the energy of being surrounded by friends and admirers, while woozi preferred the solitude of his music. somehow, your opposites attracted, and you had made it work, until now.

he heard the front door open and close, signaling your return from another social engagement. your heels clicked rhythmically on the hardwood floor as you approached the room he retreated to when he needed space. woozi looked up, his heart skipping a beat as it always did at the sight of you.

"hey, you," you said softly, your voice like a balm to his frayed nerves. you perched on the edge of the bed, your hair cascading over one shoulder. "still at it, huh? you've been at this song for days."

woozi shrugged, his fingers stilling on the guitar strings. "it's not... it's not working," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. "nothing feels right anymore."

your brows furrowed, concern etched on your beautiful face. you reached out and took his hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. "talk to me, jihoon. what's going on in that brilliant mind of yours?"

woozi sighed, setting his guitar aside. he ran a hand through his hair, trying to find the right words. "i feel like we're drifting apart, y/n. you're so social, so alive, and i'm just... i'm still this shy, introverted mess. i'm scared that one day you'll realize how much better you could be doing without me."

your eyes widened, and you scooted closer to him on the bed. you cupped his face with your free hand, your thumb brushing over his cheekbone. "listen to me, ji. i fell in love with you because of who you are - your passion, your talent." you continued, her voice filled with conviction, "i fell in love with you because of your passion for music, your talent that pours out in every lyric and melody you create. i love that you're not afraid to pour your heart out on paper and through your songs, even if you struggle to express yourself in everyday words."

you leaned in closer, your forehead resting against his. "and i love that you're an introvert. your quiet strength, the way you observe the world and process your thoughts deeply, it's a part of what makes you, you. i don't want you to change, ji.."

you took a deep breath before continuing, "as for drifting apart, i could never leave you behind. we may be different, but it's our differences that make us work. i need your quiet moments to balance out my hectic life. i need you to be my anchor, woozi." you brought both hands up to cup his face, your eyes locked with his. "i love you, not in spite of your introversion, but because of it. it's a part of what i fell in love with. and i know we can find a way to make this work, as long as we keep communicating, like this."

woozi felt tears prick at the corners of his eyes as he listened to your heartfelt words. He knew you were right, that his introversion was a part of what you loved about him. he reached up and covered your hands with his own, holding them against his face.

"i ove you too, y/n." he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "i don't know what i did to deserve someone like you in my life. i'll try to be better about talking to you, about not letting my fears and doubts consume me."

you smiled softly, noticing a single tear slipping down his own cheek. "you don't need to be better, love. you just need to be you. yhat's enough for me."

you leaned in and pressed your lips to his in a tender, loving kiss. woozi closed his eyes, losing himself in the feeling of your mouth against his, in the love and acceptance she offered so freely. he knew they would face challenges, that your paths wouldn't always align perfectly, but with you by his side, he felt like he could face anything.

[koyagifs]

𝒉𝒐𝒎𝒆

pairing: seokjin x reader au: | idol genre: | fluff word count: 0.7k synopsis: seokjin finally came back from the military, the joy of seeing you, his wife. warning(s): cursing,

Seokjin was giddly the moment he sat in the van, his leg bouncing up and down that made his other member laugh at him. He didn't care though because you were the only thing on his mind. He had missed your touches, the warmth of being near you. The feeling of being home. He's been gone for 18 painful months due to the military.

" yah, hyung is more excited to see yn then us," jungkook whined, Jimin and Taehyung chuckling at the maknae whine.

Seokjin face lit up at the mention of your name, Namjoon and Hoseok snickering at his obvious excitement.

"Of course I am!" Seokjin declared, completely unbothered by their teasing. "I've been away for a year and a half! You guys act like I don't love you, but Yn—" He sighed dramatically, placing a hand over his chest. "Yn is different."

"Aigoo, he's gone soft," Yoongi muttered with a smirk, shaking his head.

Jungkook huffed, crossing his arms. "I bet the second we drop hyung off, we won’t hear from him for days."

"You say that like it’s a bad thing," Taehyung added with a knowing grin. "Let him be with Yn. He deserves it."

Seokjin wasn’t even listening anymore. His mind was already elsewhere—already with you.

"Hang on, I'm going to take a nap," he announced, leaning his head back with a small grin. "Wake me up when we're there."

The others exchanged glances before Hoseok chuckled. "Yeah, sure, hyung. We all know you’re too excited to sleep."

And they were right. His eyes may have been closed, but his heart was already racing, counting down the seconds until he was finally in your arms again.

When he felt the van stop, he felt like his heart was going to leap out of his chest. The other members rushing out the van to greet you at your door. Your laughter being heard made Seokjin nervous.

He swallowed hard, running a hand through his hair as he took a deep breath. Why am I nervous? This is Yn. My Yn.

Still, after 18 months apart, he couldn’t help but wonder—had anything changed? Would you still look at him the same way? Would you still hold him the way he remembered?

"Hyung, are you just gonna sit there?" Jungkook teased, poking his head back into the van. "Yn’s right there."

Seokjin blinked and looked out the window, and there you were—standing on the porch, laughing as Taehyung playfully spun you around. His breath caught in his throat. God, you’re beautiful.

He didn’t wait another second. Scrambling out of the van, he ignored the hoots and cheers of his members as he practically sprinted toward you.

And then you saw him.

The moment your eyes locked, the world around him faded. Your lips parted in surprise before you broke into a run, meeting him halfway.

And then—warmth.

Your arms wrapped tightly around him, and Seokjin let out a shaky breath, his own arms crushing you against him. His heart pounded as he buried his face into your hair, inhaling the scent he had missed so much.

“You’re really here,” you whispered, your voice thick with emotion.

“I’m home,” he murmured, holding you even tighter. “I missed you so much.”

The others cheered in the background, but Seokjin didn’t care. Right now, there was only you. Seokjin had a few tears in his eyes as he spun you around, your laughter filling the air as you wrapped your legs around his waist.

" bye boys!" you called out, making the others groan in protest.

"Yah! We just got him back too!" Jimin whined, crossing his arms.

"At least let us have dinner together first!" Hoseok added, pouting dramatically.

But Seokjin was already walking towards the door with you still clinging to him, his grip on you firm like he was afraid to let go. He turned his head slightly and smirked at them.

"Sorry, guys," he said, his voice full of playful arrogance. "I've got 18 months of cuddles to make up for."

Taehyung gasped, clutching his chest. "Betrayal! Pure betrayal!"

You laughed against Seokjin’s shoulder, pressing a soft kiss to his neck. "I’ll make it up to you guys later," you teased before looking at Jin. "But right now, I need my man."

"That’s right," Seokjin agreed proudly, adjusting his hold on you as he stepped inside, kicking the door shut behind him.

The last thing you both heard was Jungkook dramatically yelling, "Don’t forget to come up for air!" before the sound of their laughter faded into the distance.

And then—it was just you and Seokjin. Finally.