#moving company in twin city

[dragons-and-yellow-roses]

Could someone please sit on my bed and do whatever so I can clean my room?

[justinspoliticalcorner]

Ryan Adamczeski at The Advocate:

After Target made the decision to drop diversity, equity, and inclusion initiatives, Minnesota's largest Pride festival decided to drop them as a sponsor. Now, Twin Cities Pride has more funding than they started with. Target issued a memo on Friday announcing the end of its three-year DEI goals, including its Racial Equity Action and Change (REACH) program and "all external diversity-focused survey’s including HRC’s Corporate Equality index.” The Human Rights Campaign effort, which provides benchmarks on corporate policies relevant to LGBTQ+ employees, previously gave Target a score of 100 percent, dubbing the company a “Leader in LGBTQ+ Workplace Inclusion." In response, the largest Pride organization in Minnesota and the largest free Pride celebration in the United States, Twin Cities Pride, announced this week that it would be dropping Target as a sponsor for its 2025 events. The company had initially pledged $50,000, and had been involved in Pride celebrations for around two decades.

[...] Target was not backing down on its $50,000 pledge, but Otto says that TCP and their allies still saw the move as a betrayal, as the company is "taking away safety for the community not only in their employees, but in their suppliers." As the community was "looking to us to hold them accountable," TCP's board made the decision to remove Target as a sponsor. "This isn't about the money," Otto says. "Because if the money wasn't there, would we even be questioning this decision? The answer is no. The reality of it is, is that it's the right thing to do for our community." The end of DEI programs and LGBTQ+ inclusivity initiatives marks a significant shift for the Minnesota-based company, which once withstood protests from hate groups over its inclusive bathroom policies and Pride displays. However, the change was not sudden, as Target pulled some of its Pride Month merchandise in 2023 amid threats and violent protests in stores.

[...] Companies' willingness to abandon the LGBTQ+ community contributes to the long-standing debate among activists over "Rainbow Capitalism," which refers to the trend of companies marketing to or profiting off the queer community without meaningfully supporting them. Examples include Disney using a rainbow logo while cancelling or censoring LGBTQ+ projects, Netflix claiming to support LGBTQ+ people while hosting Dave Chapelle's harmful jokes about transgender people, or Target scaling back Pride displays after pressure from extremists despite decades of precedent.

With Target abandoning its once-stellar support for the LGBTQ+ community by dropping DEI, Twin Cities Pride not only ousted them from sponsorship but raised more money.

See Also:

LGBTQ Nation: Pride organization rejects Target’s $50K donation after the store turns its back on DEI

[yandere-daydreams]

exhibit #4 - tickling.

an installment of the freak shit march gallery showcase.

pairing: yandere!dick grayson x reader (dc).

length: 1.6k.

warnings: non/con touching, mentions of kidnapping, explicit disregard of consent, tickling, prolonged captivity, and obsessive/delusional behavior. dead dove: do not eat.

You weren’t entirely sure how you ended up in this position.

Being held in an underground facility for an indeterminable amount of time, you were starting to grapple with. It helped to think of it as a kind of witness protection program – the city’s ever-expanding network of criminals wanted you dead and buried, Gotham’s most prolific gang of vigilantes wanted you alive and able to provide testimony at an upcoming trial, and the best place to keep you in the meantime was one of the many tucked-away safe-havens they apparently had, where only the damp chill and occasional lost sewer rat would be able to find you. It wasn’t that bad. Your temporary living space was more similar to a high-end apartment than a war bunker, and someone was almost always around to keep you company (even if you could survive without the taller, angsty-er Robin’s board games).  If there’d been a few more windows, you might’ve been able to get used to it. You were still looking forward to getting home, of course, but you knew why you were here.

How you’d ended up tucked against Nightwing’s chest, his arms locked around your midriff and his face buried in the back of your shoulder was… less comprehensible.

‘Bonding time’, he called it. There was a movie playing in the background – some b-rated flick meant to make you scream and flinch and melt further into him – and he’d cornered you in the bedroom, insisted that both of you would be more than comfortable on your twin-sized mattress. Of all the bats, he was the most determined to treat you more like a little sibling than an endangered civilian. Part of it (most of it, even) was guilt. He’d been the one to find you in the back of that big, white van; the one to suggest putting you into hiding to the others. Of course he wanted to make you feel comfortable. If you didn’t, he would be the reason why.

You just wished his bids for your forgiveness were a little less tactile.

The leading lady let out a cartoonishly high-pitched scream as the killer’s axe broke through the ridiculously thin door of her bathroom, and you felt Nightwing’s hand flatten against your stomach, prepared for you to startle and shrink, ready to draw you closer at the first sign of a reaction. It took everything you had not to roll your eyes. A shirt that read ‘Sorry I got you sort of kidnapped, please tell me I’m a good hero!’ would’ve been more subtle.

Sighing, you started to push yourself up. He was quick to stop you, of course, drawing back without loosening his grip. “Going somewhere?”

“Mhm. I just need to—” A half-eaten bowl of popcorn sat on your bedside table, an untouched glass of water next to it. You could say you needed to use the bathroom, but you’d already used that excuse, too. Less than ten minutes ago, in fact. “—stretch my legs. I’ll be back in a second.”

He hummed, one of his hands falling to your side, where your oversized shirt had ridden up to expose skin. “If you’re feeling restless, you can say so. I’ll talk to B about moving some gym equipment in – let you burn off some steam while I’m gone.” He paused, laughed. “Or I could be your personal trainer. Promise I’ll go easy on you n’ everything.”

Your tense smile faltered. Great.Then he’d have yet another reason to put his hands on you. “Mr. Nightwing, sir, I’m really just—”

“I’ve told you,” he cut in, tone light and saccharine and so incredibly grating. “You can call me Dick.”

“I really don’t think I should know your real—”

“I don’t mind. It’s only fair, since I know yours.”

“That’s different.” It really wasn’t. You hadn’t wanted him to know yours, either. “I’m sorry, but I really just need a couple of minutes to—”

Again, you tried to pull away, and again, he stopped you. This time, though, the effort was hasty, sloppy, and his fingertips brushed against the tender skin just above your hip in just the wrong way. Before you could swallow it back, an airy giggling slipped past your lips – more reflex than anything. Immediately, you stopped moving, and Dick did the same – his hand clamping down around your waist.

You tried to speak, but he was faster, his delight blatant enough to be audible. “You’re ticklish?”

“I’m not.” And then, more defensively, “It hurts and I hate it.”

He didn’t respond, but he didn’t let you go, either. His hold on you shifted, one arm wrapping around your diaphragm while skirting his freehand along your lower stomach, his touch nearly too light to be felt. Your reaction was instantaneous, humiliatingly so. A crooked smile, a fractured laugh followed shortly by an awkward, painful wheezing sound. You threw your elbow into his chest, but he ignored you, only nuzzling into the nape of your neck. “Yeah, I can tell how much you hate it.”

He was practically dripping with that self-congratulatory, faux-sympathetic confidence. You grit your teeth, biting back a comment about Gotham’s heroes and their faulty sense of mortality, but it was a waste of breath. He was already moving onto his next target – the inside of your thighs, clamped shut as soon as his hand started veering in that direction. That didn’t matter. All it took was the pads of his fingertips grazing over that hyper-sensitive junction for you to lose your composure, kicking out blindly as you coughed up a sound that swung closer to death gasps than laughter.

Dick didn’t seem to mind. When he laughed, it was light, chiming, genuine. He propped his chin on your shoulder, watching your expression as his hands moved over your stomach, your sides, your midriff. “It’s cute,” he muttered, only half-focused on what he was saying. Most of his attention was dedicated to touching you, tickling you, making sure you didn’t have time to breath in-between thrashing fits – let alone resist. “And it’s good to see you lighten up. I don’t think you’ve smiled since the day we met.” Your recollection was swift, spotty. Darkness, adrenaline, terror, and then, relief, light, a smiling face. You couldn’t remember anything beyond that, not beyond what’d been told to you later on. You couldn’t remember whether you’d been happy to find yourself in Dick’s arms, or devastated that you were still being held at all. “You could afford to let your guard down a little, you know. It’s not like any bad guys are gonna be able to find you here – not with me looking out for you.”

 “I don’t—” It was awful, not being able to spit out a coherent string of words without your own dysfunctional body cutting you off. It was awful, knowing he wouldn’t listen even if you could. “I’m not afraid of any—”

“Of course you aren’t. Not when I’m here to keep you safe.” His voice had taken on a strange drawl, blurring around the edges. You felt him shift against your back, his hands leaving your body for one merciful second before finding your shoulders and jerking you onto your back, the motion forceful enough to knock the air out of your lungs. You were never going to get used to it; the freakish strength, the inhuman speed, the bizarre flexibility that meant he was on top of you long before you’d had the chance to catch your breath. His knees dug into the mattress on either side of your waist, his hips slotted against yours. Against your will, you felt something stiff and warm press into your lower stomach, and choose not to put a name to it.

Your chest throbbed, like it was at risk of splitting open. Your body ached, too little oxygen in too many placed, and it took you seconds to remember how to make any sound other than short, pitchy whines. Dick took it all in from above, only partially cast in shadow. Unlike the others, he never wore his mask around you – something about ‘letting his guard down’ or ‘proving you can trust him’, you were sure. Still, you wished he cared more about his secret identity. Even blank anonymity would’ve been better than being able to make out the deep, scarlet blush spread over his cheeks as he loomed over you, to recognize the raggedness of his own breathing and force yourself not to acknowledge why he seemed so strained.

“You’re not smiling.” It was true. You weren’t. Your expression had fallen into a distinct, pathetic grimace – only a touch less strained than the alternative. “Are you going to fix that, or do you need my help?”

In your own defense, you tried. You did your best to force it, to contort your lips into something that could pass for an easy smile, but whatever mangled offering you managed to pull together wasn’t up to Dick’s standards. He sighed, bowing his head and raising his hands. For a brief, terrible second, you pictured his fingers curled around your throat, your body convulsing as you suffocated, but his intentions were elsewhere. The hem of your shirt was caught and drawn up to your chin, far past anything that could ever be considered appropriate. You felt his fingertips drag over the curve of your rip cage once, twice before it kicked in – a searing, full-body laugh tearing out of your chest while you thrashed, your back arching and your hips inadvertently crashing against his. Immediately, Dick buckled – falling against you, hiding his face in your shirt. A second later, you felt something damp start to soak into your shorts, so hot it could’ve burnt.

The minutes passed, but Dick didn’t move, content to keep his body pressed into yours. Teary-eyed and dizzy, you let your head roll to the side, staring blankly at the television just as the credits started to roll.

At least he couldn’t keep you here forever, right?

[svtiddiess]

Be My Tigress?

Synopsis: After moving halfway across the world to Korea, you landed a job as an Assistant Manager at Carat Company, a media company known for television production, music management, and digital content creation. Your boss, Soonyoung—though he insists everyone call him Hoshi—turned out to be an absolute whirlwind of chaos. From tiger-themed stationery and tiger-themed office décor to a full-on tiger fursuit, his relentless dedication to his so-called "tiger agenda" has left you questioning your sanity on more than one occasion. (Seriously, what even is a horanghae??) As you adjust to your new life and career, one question keeps nagging at you: how has he not been fired yet? No, really—why hasn't anyone reported this insane man to HR?

Pairing: marketing manager!Hoshi x assistant manager!afab!reader ft. marketing intern!Jun and human resources manager!Woozi

Genre: crack, fluff, slightest of angst, smut, office romance, office! au

Rating: mature

Word count: 6.6k (for this part)

Warnings: tiger agenda is strong in this one, Hoshi is very unserious (and a diva), unrealistic workplace environment, mentions of alcohol, HR pls don't fire Hoshi

Smut Warnings: penetrative sex, protected sex (we cheered!), body worship, big dick!Hoshi, aftercare, lemme know if I missed anything!

Note: This is part of the 'That's Showbiz Baby!' collab! Check out the masterlist here! Be sure to check out all the other amazing fics in the collab!

Thank you so, so much @studioeisa and @chugging-antiseptic-dye for helping me beta and giving me motivation to get through the fic! This fic wouldn't have escaped the vault without them!

HUGE thank you to my twin @tomodachiii for helping me with the amazing banner!!

PART 1 | PART 2 (soon! ...hopefully)

Click here to join my taglist!

Read on ao3

Reblogs are appreciated ♡

.ᐟMinors/blank/no age indicator blogs will be blocked.ᐟ

Deep breaths. In and out.

A shaky breath escapes your lips as you try to steady the nerves crawling up your spine. New city, new people, new job—it's all a bit much. But new beginnings are good, change is good…or at least, that's what you keep telling yourself.

With one final breath, you shake off the jitters and step into your new workplace—Carat Company.

Smoothing out your skirt, you walk onto your assigned floor. The receptionist greeted you so warmly that it sparked a small comfort in your chest, easing your nerves just a little. Fidgeting with your freshly issued ID tag, you glance around in search of your new boss—

Kwon Soonyoung.

When you told the receptionist you were the new assistant marketing manager, she gave you a pitying smile and muttered, "Good luck, you're going to need it—especially if you're working with him." You still have no idea what that means. Is your boss a tyrant? A slave-driver? Whatever the case, you're determined to prove you're not someone who backs down from a challenge.

Your eyes scan the floor—and then stop on something…strange. Someone's wearing what looks like a tiger fur coat? Okay, bold fashion choice. Their back is turned, but you can tell it's a man. Blonde hair—very unnatural.

Then he turns.

You blink. Sunglasses. Indoors. Coupled with the tiger coat and the flashy hair, he looks like the walking embodiment of a diva.

Must be a client, you think, attempting to ignore him and continue your boss hunt. You wander the floor, eyes peeled for any signs of the marketing manager.

Suddenly, a gasp—and footsteps. You turn around, startled, as the man in the tiger coat bolts toward you.

"Are you the new hire?!" he exclaims, eyes shining.

"I—uh—yes?" you answer, unsure and slightly alarmed.

He gasps again, practically vibrating. "Oh my god! A new horangdan!" he squeals.

A what? Did he just…call you a slur?

"I'm Hoshi! The marketing manager!" he beams.

Hoshi? Marketing manager? Did this man break out of the asylum and assume the role of your boss? That must be it, he must be an insane person who broke into here and just started to call himself the manager. That's the only explanation. There's no way this is the person you're supposed to report to.

"Hoshi?" you repeat, uncertain.

"Well, my government name is Soonyoung, but I prefer Hoshi!" he chirps.

Oh. So…this is the Soonyoung you were looking for.

"You're Kwon Soonyoung?" you ask, still trying to reconcile the name with the image before you.

"Yup! That's me!" he grins. "Oh! I have to initiate you into the Horanghae Club!" he gasps and dashes off before you can react.

You stand frozen, dumbfounded. Did you just join a cult? Is it too late to back out? You glance toward the elevator, calculating how fast you could make a run for it and disappear from this fever dream of a first day.

Before you can act on your escape plan, Soonyoung—Hoshi?—returns.

"Here!" he says cheerfully, handing you a tiger-themed pen.

You take it cautiously and give it a once-over. Despite the ridiculous design, the pen is surprisingly high quality.

"I give one to every horangdan when they join. It's official now!" he says proudly.

You nod slowly, offering the most forced smile in your entire life.

"Oh! And we have to take a horanghae selfie!" he gasps again.

"A what?" you ask, eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

"Just follow my lead!" he instructs, holding up his hand and curling his fingers into a tiger-like claw. You hesitate, then mimic the pose. His smile only widens as he pulls out his phone and snaps a selfie. You stare blankly at the camera, still trying to make sense of everything.

"Perfect! You're officially part of the team! I'll send you the photo on Teams and get it framed too!" he says enthusiastically. "And hey—if you ever need help, don't hesitate to call me!"

With that, he flashes a final grin and heads off toward what must be his office.

Your hand slowly drops from the claw pose as you attempt to process what just happened. One thing's for sure: you'll definitely, definitely hesitate to call him.

Is it too soon to quit?

You think to yourself as you blankly stare at the monitor in front of you. You were prepared to take on anything—prepared day and night for the possible work they might throw at you, learned the latest marketing trends, heck, even braced yourself for the possibility of a boss straight out of a corporate nightmare. But this? This, you did not see coming.

Kwon Soonyoung is in love—no, scratch that—obsessed with tigers. You're convinced that if a genie popped up and offered him three wishes, he'd use every single one to become a tiger.

Somehow, he's also made it his personal mission to transform your desk into a shrine to tiger-kind. The tiger-striped pen was only the beginning. Now you've got a matching mug, keyboard mat, and coaster. Even your desktop wallpaper is tiger-themed—and for some reason, you can't seem to change it. A grinning cartoon tiger stares back at you, almost like it's mocking you. You've never wanted to punch a screen more in your life, but seeing as you'd rather not owe the company for damages, you've restrained yourself.

You lean back in your chair with a resigned sigh, already thinking about quitting—and it's not even lunchtime yet. A boisterous laugh snaps you out of your thoughts, and you look over to see Soonyoung approaching you.

Shit.

You quickly sit up straight and pretend to look busy, hoping that he'll leave you alone if he sees you're busy. But unfortunately, he doesn't.

"Hey Y/N! How's everything going so far?" he beams, adjusting his fur coat and slipping off his sunglasses like he's stepping onto a runway instead of into the office.

"Uh—yeah, it's going fine. Just slowly getting the hang of things," you reply with an awkward smile.

"Did you see your wallpaper?!" he asks, practically bouncing. "I personally begged the IT team to set everyone's desktop to adorable tigers!"

"It's…cute?" you manage to say.

"I knew you'd love it!" he beams, proud of himself.

Then, he gasps like he's just witnessed a crime, clutching his chest with theatrical flair. "Wait—don't tell me—you don't have your custom keyboard and mouse yet?!"

"My what now?" you blink at him, completely lost.

"I made a special request—a custom tiger-themed keyboard and mouse just for you! Only the best for my assistant manager!" he beams proudly. Then he pouts. "But they're not here. I think IT might've ignored my request."

Thank god, you think.

"It's no problem, Soonyoung. I'm more than happy with what I have," you say with a polite smile, hoping to end this tiger crusade.

"No! Absolutely not! My assistant manager does not use cheap equipment!" he declares with righteous conviction. "I'll make sure you get them—I promise!"

"I-it's really okay, Soonyoung—" you try to reassure him, desperation creeping in.

"Nonsense!" he grins, throwing you a wink. "Only the best for my assistant manager."

"Wow…how generous of you," you say through gritted teeth.

"I'm heading to IT right now!" he announces before dramatically striding off.

You stare after him, completely defeated. With a deep breath, you rise from your seat and let out a long, weary exhale.

You're going to HR.

You can't do this anymore. You don't even know what you're going to say, but you'll figure it out when you get there. All you know is that something has to be done about this lunatic. And so, you march. Straight to HR.

[…]

You let out a slow exhale and knock twice before stepping into the HR manager's office. Inside, a man is furiously typing away at his keyboard, too engrossed to notice your presence. You glance at the nameplate on his desk—Lee Jihoon; Human Resources Manager.

You take a cautious few steps in, but he doesn't even flinch. Still typing. Still scowling. You clear your throat.

He finally looks up and raises an unimpressed eyebrow. "Can I help you?"

"I'm here to file a complaint," you say, shifting awkwardly.

"Is it a Hoshi-related complaint?" he asks with a resigned sigh.

Your eyebrows shoot up, and your mouth parts slightly. How did he know?

"Uh—yes?"

He exhales again, shaking his head as he mutters something under his breath that you're pretty sure was "not again".

"Put it in that box," he says, pointing to the corner of the room before returning to his screen.

You follow his gesture and turn to look, and your jaw practically hits the floor. A cardboard box, overflowing with paper. It's stuffed so full that several complaints have spilt out and are lying abandoned on the floor around it.

How is this man still employed? You wonder, genuinely baffled.

Staring at the box, you come to a decision. It's not worth it. Filing a complaint won't make a dent in the madness that is Kwon Soonyoung.

With your soul dispirited, you accept your fate and drag yourself back to your desk in defeat.

Taking another long sip of your coffee, you step onto your floor, hoping that the caffeine would give you enough fuel to get through the day. You went home completely exhausted yesterday despite having been given very little work; you suspect it has something to do with your tiger-obsessed boss.

Speaking of your tiger-obsessed boss, you spot him chatting with someone, his back facing you, and you do a full double-take. He's wearing a normal shirt. No stripes, no tiger prints, nothing. Just…normal. For a second, you wonder if your eyes are playing tricks on you, but that unmistakable bleach-blonde hair confirms it—it's definitely him.

"Huh, maybe I misjudged him too quickly," you mutter to yourself as you take in his office-appropriate outfit.

Just as the last words leave your mouth, Soonyoung turns around, revealing a tiger print tie.

"Never mind," you sigh. You can't believe you actually had hope for this man.

His face lights up the moment he sees you, and he jogs over, grinning from ear to ear.

"Good morning, Y/N!" he greets you with his horanghae pose.

"…Good morning, Soonyoung," you mutter, forcing a tight-lipped smile.

"I told you to call me Hoshi," he pouts, his shoulders drooping like a scolded kid instead of a grown marketing manager.

"…I've got work to do, so I'll be heading to my desk now," you say, keeping the forced smile plastered on your face.

"Good luck with work!" Soonyoung cheers as you walk away.

You reach your desk and sink into your chair with a sigh. That's when you notice something new—something that definitely wasn't there yesterday. Sitting proudly on your desk is a picture frame…with the selfie you took with Soonyoung yesterday. You pick it up, scoffing in disbelief. He actually framed it.

Your expression in the photo is pure confusion, while Hoshi's is pure joy. The contrast is almost comedic—almost.

Grumbling, you shove the frame into the nearest drawer, silently vowing never to look at it again. You boot up your desktop, only to be greeted by that same infuriating tiger wallpaper, grinning back at you like it knows exactly what it's doing.

You let out a heavy sigh and rub your temples, trying to ground yourself. It's only the second day, you remind yourself. Taking one last deep breath, you open your email and dive into work.

[…]

A notification blinks on your screen, snapping you out of your work-induced daze. Team meeting in 20 minutes. Deciding that a quick snack might help you survive whatever chaos awaits, you head toward the break room.

As you step inside, you spot Soonyoung already there, happily making himself a cup of coffee. You inwardly groan—talking to him was the last thing you wanted. Still, you figure it wouldn’t hurt to gather a little intel about the upcoming meeting.

"Hello, Soonyoung," you greet, but he doesn't react—he simply carries on making his coffee.

You furrow your eyebrows in confusion; did he not hear you? You clear your throat and greet him again, louder. But once again, his focus is only on the coffee in his hand.

Worry etches onto your face. Is he upset with you? Did you do something to offend him? Does he hate you? Oh god—

Wait.

"…Hoshi?" you murmur.

Soonyoung turns to look at you, a bright smile on his face.

"Yes?" he chirps.

Your shoulders slump, and your expression says it all—you're done. With an audible sigh, you drag a hand down your face, trying to gather whatever scraps of patience you have left.

"We have a meeting soon, do you think you could brief me about it before we attend?" you mutter.

"Oh, right! Tuesdays are meeting days!" he remarks.

"We don't have meetings on other days?" you ask, tilting your head in confusion.

"Well, I don't anyway," he shrugs.

"Oh," you mutter, confused as to why he only has meetings on Tuesdays—but you don't think too much about it.

"It's just an introduction meeting about the new campaign we'll be carrying out to promote an upcoming show. Don't worry too much about it!" he reassures you. You nod, feeling slightly relieved at his words.

You glance at the time and immediately panic—only five minutes left until the meeting. Without wasting a second, you make a beeline for the meeting room. Well, you speed walk like your life depends on it, while Soonyoung strolls behind you at a leisurely pace.

You slip into your seat next to Jun, the intern you've chatted with a few times. You exchange a polite smile before turning your attention to setting up your things. Moments later, Soonyoung bursts in, grinning from ear to ear, practically glowing with energy.

"Hello, everyone!" he chirps. "Horanghae!" he grins, throwing up that cursed horanghae gesture you've grown to resent with every fibre of your being.

You give him a look of pure disbelief, quickly glancing around the room in hopes that someone—anyone—might share your pain. But no. One by one, every single person in the room mimics the gesture and echoes, "Horanghae!" Even Jun, who you thought was normal.

Your eyes widen, and your jaw nearly hits the floor. Is everyone in this company actually insane?

Soonyoung turns to you, eyes full of hope. Then you realise—everyone is staring at you, waiting. Expecting. You freeze, panic flashing across your face. With no escape in sight, you force it out, "…horanghae?"

Soonyoung beams like you just gave him the greatest gift in the world, then launches into the meeting.

You sit there, staring blankly at your laptop screen, questioning every life choice that led you to this moment.

The meeting finally wraps up, and to your genuine surprise, everything went…smoothly. No unexpected tiger trivia, no random bursts of energy—Soonyoung actually acted professionally. And not just that—he was good. A competent, clear, and oddly charismatic leader. If he weren't so obsessively in love with tigers, you might actually respect him as your boss.

As the final remarks are made, Soonyoung closes out the meeting, thanking everyone for their hard work.

"Good job, Horangdans!" he grins, throwing up the horanghae gesture with far too much enthusiasm. And of course, like some sort of cult ritual, everyone mirrors the gesture—except you.

And once again, every single head turns in your direction, all eyes locked on you, waiting.

With the weight of a hundred stares on your shoulders, you give in, raising your hand in defeat. "…horanghae," you sigh, dead inside.

"Great! Meeting dismissed!" Soonyoung chirps, already bouncing out the door.

You stare after him, unmoving, lost in thought.

Should you start drafting your two weeks' notice?

Heavy footsteps echo in the office as you trudge to your desk; you haven't had your morning coffee yet, and the despair radiating off of you makes that very obvious.

Plopping your stuff on the desk, you trudge your way over to the break room to get your fix. As you try and drag your feet along the office floor, a bright orange figure grabs your attention from the corner of your eye. You do a double-take and see that there's a…tiger? In the middle of the office?

You rub your eyes, making sure you're not hallucinating from the lack of caffeine, but to your dismay, there really is a giant tiger fursuit roaming around the office.

To your horror, the tiger fursuit turns around and looks at you—it's looking directly at you. You let out a shriek in panic when it starts running towards you. You turn around and prepare to run away, but stop when you hear a familiar voice speaking through the fursuit.

"Good morning Y/N!"

You face the tiger fursuit, pure bewilderment etched onto your face.

"…Soonyoung?" you manage to choke out through your shock.

"Horanghae!" he chirps, holding up his hand (paw?).

"Soonyoung, why the hell are you in a fursuit?!" you shriek.

"Cause it's Wednesday!" he casually responds, as if he hadn't just reduced your lifespan by half. You simply stare at him, too perplexed to form a sentence.

"I'm just gonna…go now," you state, too baffled to even come up with an excuse.

"Okay! Have a great day!" he says cheerfully before skipping away to god knows where.

Plopping down at your desk, you bury your face in your hands, your mind spinning from everything you just endured. A troubling thought creeps in.

Is your boss a…FURRY?!?!!

"Hey, uh, you okay?"

You peek through your fingers to see Jun standing beside you, a concerned look on his face. You glance over at Soonyoung—now scaring another poor employee in his fursuit—then back at Jun.

"Is this…normal?" you ask, voice low and laced with disbelief.

Jun follows your gaze, then looks back at you with a shrug.

"Yeah, pretty much. Don't worry, you'll get used to it."

"Oh…" you mumble, slumping further into your chair.

Determination blazing in your eyes, you storm into Jihoon's office. He's at his desk, eyes glued to his computer, unbothered even as your heavy footsteps approach him. He doesn't even flinch when you slam your hand on the table.

"You need to fire Soonyoung," you demand.

"I'm afraid we can't do that without proper reason," he states, eyes still focused on the screen.

"He is a furry! That should be a good enough reason!" you blurt, hands waving around wildly.

Jihoon lets out a long, weary sigh before turning to you, an unmistakable look of annoyance written across his face. "Unfortunately, that is not a good enough reason to fire him. Once you have a good enough reason, please do hesitate to come see me."

He shoots you a sarcastic smile before turning back to his computer, clearly unbothered. A defeated sigh slips from your lips as your shoulders sag. With a permanent pout etched onto your face, you begrudgingly trudge back to your desk, defeated once again by none other than Kwon Soonyoung.

It's a new day; a fresh start.

You chant the words in your head like a mantra as you make your way to your desk. But the moment you arrive, you stop dead in your tracks. Something new catches your eye—bright orange with unmistakable black stripes.

No way.

He actually did it.

Kwon Soonyoung actually got you a custom keyboard and mouse. Both tiger-themed.

You run your fingers across the keyboard, pressing a few keys. You hate how satisfying they feel—each press giving a perfect thock under your fingertips. The mouse is just as bad: sleek, ergonomic, dangerously comfortable. It's the kind of setup your wrists would write a thank-you letter for.

God, you hate it. You hate how high-quality it is. You want to throw it across the room, never touch it again—but you can't. It's too good. Way too good.

With great reluctance, you've decided to keep the tiger keyboard and mouse.

"Good morning, Y/N! How do you like your new keyboard and mouse?!"

You yelp, startled, and look up—only to see Soonyoung standing there in a…tiger onesie.

At this point, you're not even surprised anymore. And this is definitely one of the more tamer outfits you've seen him in.

"Good morning Soonyoung. The keyboard and mouse are definitely…more of a higher quality than I expected," you admit, begrudgingly.

"Of course! Only the best for my assistant manager!" he grins, beaming with pride. "I made a super special request just for you!"

Your fingers trail across the keys again. If it weren't for the obnoxious design, you'd almost be touched. You glance up at him, raising an eyebrow. You know you won't get a logical answer, but you have to ask:

"Soonyoung, why're you in a onesie?"

"Cause it's Thursday, duh!" he says, like it's the most obvious thing in the world.

"…of course," you sigh.

"Would you like a tiger onesie? I have plenty of new ones! I would gladly give you one!" he chirps.

"I appreciate the offer, but I'm good, Soonyoung," you reply with a tight-lipped smile.

"Aw, okay." He pouts, shoulders drooping—and for some reason, your heart skips a beat. You weren't expecting him to look that cute. The way his bottom lip sticks out and his cheeks puff slightly made you feel some type of way. You quickly shake the thought away and clear your throat.

"I have work to do, so if you'll excuse me," you mumble, praying he doesn't notice the blush creeping up your cheeks.

"Oh, okay! Have a nice day, Y/N!" he says cheerfully before heading off to his office.

You watch him leave, and before you realise it, a small smile finds its way onto your lips.

You step into the office, a fresh cup of coffee in hand, humming a tune that's been stuck in your head all morning, ready to seize the day. It's Friday, after all—just need to survive one more day before the sweet release of the weekend.

As you make your way to your desk, you pause.

Something's…off.

Half the office is empty. The usual buzz of chatter and clacking keyboards is nowhere to be found. You glance around, double-checking. Nope—definitely not your imagination. It's eerily quiet.

You spot Jun at his desk, the only familiar face in the sea of emptiness, and decide to ask him what's going on.

"Good morning, Jun! Where is everyone?" you ask, tilting your head in confusion.

"Oh, good morning, Y/N!" he replies cheerfully. "We don't really work on Fridays."

"Huh? Why not?"

"Hoshi lets people leave early or take the day off if they want. Says we all deserve a long weekend," he states.

You nod, slowly starting to connect the dots as to why Soonyoung hasn't been fired yet. Maybe…maybe he's not such a terrible boss after all.

Out of the corner of your eye, you catch movement. You turn your head, and instantly regret it.

Soonyoung is approaching. Not just any Soonyoung, no. This Soonyoung is dressed in a blinding, tiger-striped three-piece suit. Your eyes sting just from looking at it. You're convinced that if you stare any longer, you'll lose your vision permanently.

"Good morning, guys! Happy Friday!" he beams as he struts over.

You mumble a half-hearted greeting while Jun responds with matching enthusiasm.

"Do you like my Friday suit, Y/N?" He grins as he twirls around, showing off the god awful suit.

Before you can answer, Jun subtly nudges your side and whispers, "Just say yes."

"Uh…yes?" you begrudgingly say, and Soonyoung's eyes light up. It's as if your single yes made his whole day.

"Thank you! I had it custom-made!" he says proudly, practically glowing. "Oh—and if you two don't have any urgent work, feel free to head out early!"

He throws you a wink before skipping off to his office.

You're left blinking in disbelief.

Jun turns to you, voice light. "It's better to just accept him for who he is than try to fight it."

You raise an eyebrow.

"If you can't beat him, join him, or at least tolerate him. Life's easier that way," he shrugs.

You glance toward Soonyoung's office as Jun’s words sink in. And, somehow, you know he's right. Fighting the cosmic chaos that is Kwon Soonyoung will only lead to your mental decline. It's best to accept it.

Accept that he's a furry.

Accept that he owns more than one tiger suit.

Accept that, somehow, this man is your boss.

And with that, you make peace with your fate.

Smiling to yourself, you hit the print button, finally wrapping up the report you've been working on for weeks. Several weeks have passed since you accepted your fate, and honestly, it feels like a weight has been lifted off your shoulders.

Soonyoung has gone from insufferable to…tolerable—a massive achievement for him. Grabbing the freshly printed report, you do a final read-through before heading toward his office to get it signed.

You pause in front of his office door, a bit nervous. This is your first time stepping into his office, and you have no idea what to expect. Taking a deep breath, you knock and wait.

"Come in," Soonyoung's muffled voice answers.

Exhaling slowly, you open the door—and instantly freeze.

Your jaw, along with the report in your hand, drops at the sight before you. A life-sized tiger statue stands near the entrance, so realistic you swear its glass eyes are following you. Dominating the back wall is a massive tiger painting, looming over the entire room.

"Y/N!" Soonyoung yelps when he sees you, quickly hurrying over, eyes scanning you with concern. "Are you okay?!"

"H-Huh?" Your focus snaps back to him. "Uh, yeah…I'm fine," you mumble.

"Soonyoung, why in the world is there a giant tiger statue in your office?!" you blurt out, wildly gesturing at the intimidating figure.

He glances over at the statue, then back at you. "Oh! That's Hochi! I somehow managed to convince the finance department it was essential for marketing a film once," he grins proudly.

"I—how?!" you exclaim, exasperated.

He simply shrugs. "I don't know. They kind of just told me I can do whatever I want with the budget as long as I leave them alone."

"Oh…" you trail off, still processing.

Soonyoung bends down to pick up the report you dropped, handing it back to you.

"Here's your paperwork. You're really okay, though?" he asks again, his voice soft with concern.

You take the documents, and as your fingers brush, a spark shoots up your spine, making your breath hitch.

"Y-Yeah," you stammer, quickly retracting your hand. "I just need you to sign this report."

"Oh, yeah! Sure thing!" he smiles and heads over to his desk to sign. While he scribbles his signature, you take the chance to steady your breathing and rub your trembling hands together.

Once done, Soonyoung hands the report back to you. And again, as you grab it, your fingers graze each other—and once again, your heart skips a beat.

You snatch your hand back, mumble a quick thank you, and make a speedy exit, silently praying he didn't notice the blush on your cheeks.

You plop down at your desk, head in your hands, brain on overdrive. Your heart won't stop racing, and the worst part is—you know exactly why.

Why the hell are you feeling like this around your boss?

Your eyes drift to your drawer. Hesitating for a beat, you reach out and pull it open. Inside, right where you left it, is the picture frame you had shoved out of sight weeks ago. The photo stares back at you—Soonyoung smiling so brightly, you almost want to return the smile. Almost.

You slam the drawer shut with a groan.

"Get your shit together, Y/N," you mutter, rubbing your face. "You cannot be catching feelings for the furry."

You inhale deeply, trying to collect yourself, only for your eyes to flick toward his office door. The memories creep back in, uninvited—the way your heart stuttered when his fingers brushed against yours.

Your heart skips again at the thought.

You groan and slam your forehead onto the desk.

Jun, who just happens to be walking by, pauses. He leans over your desk slowly, staring at you with a mix of confusion and concern.

"Uh…bestie, you good?" he asks, cautiously.

"Yup. Just peachy," you mumble, voice muffled by the desk and soaked in obvious, soul-crushing denial.

Jun blinks. "…okay then," he says slowly, backing away and deciding it was best to leave you alone.

You let out a long, suffering sigh.

Damn you Kwon Soonyoung.

Friday night—you should be home, sprawled on your couch, eating junk food and binge-watching your favourite shows to unwind from the workweek. Instead, you're here at a restaurant with your entire team, all thanks to Soonyoung's spontaneous company dinner announcement that landed in everyone's inbox earlier this week.

And of course, by some cruel twist of fate, you've ended up sitting right next to Soonyoung. The random butterflies you've been getting around him lately haven't exactly gone away, and being this close isn't doing anything to help your steadily growing crush.

Staring at the shot glass in your hand, you sigh and down it in one swift motion, silently hoping the alcohol will help calm your nerves. You glance over at Soonyoung, who's tossing back his own shots like they're water.

It doesn't take long for the alcohol to work its magic. When you glance back at him again, his cheeks are flushed, his usual high energy somehow even more amplified.

"Y/N! Take a shot with me!" he shouts enthusiastically, sliding another shot your way. You glance at the glass, then back at his bright, flushed face and figure: why not? With your buzzed state already clouding your better judgment, you knock it back. And another. And another.

Before you know it, you're just as drunk as he is—if not worse.

The alcohol makes you bold. Too bold. Before you even realise what you're doing, you're straight up flirting with Soonyoung. And what's worse? He’s flirting right back.

You lean in—close, dangerously close. The noise of the restaurant, the chatter of your coworkers, the clinking of glasses—all of it fades into nothing. Right now, it's just the two of you suspended in this charged moment.

You can feel his breath against your lips, warm and inviting, as his eyes search yours, wide and glimmering with a mixture of surprise and anticipation.

With a boldness only liquid courage can provide, you whisper, voice soft and sultry, "Wanna bring me back to your place?"

The two of you stumble into the apartment, a tangled mess of limbs, heated kisses, and wandering hands. Neither of you remembers exactly how you got here, but neither of you cares.

As soon as the door shuts, Soonyoung spins you around, pressing your back against it before crashing his lips onto yours once again. The kiss is frantic, desperate, full of pent-up tension that's finally being released. You're both breathless, but neither of you wants to pull away—the taste of him is intoxicating.

Finally, he breaks the kiss, forehead resting against yours as both of you struggle to steady your breathing. His hand gently cups your flushed cheek, thumb brushing along your skin as his gaze locks onto yours, dark and searching.

"Are you sure you want this?" he whispers, voice low and full of restraint.

You meet his eyes, lips brushing his as you mumble, "Soonyoung, just shut up and fuck me."

A breathless chuckle escapes him. "Yes, ma'am."

Without hesitation, his arms sweep under you, lifting you effortlessly. You squeal softly, instinctively wrapping your legs around his waist and your arms around his neck as he carries you through the apartment.

He brings you to the bedroom and gently lays you down onto the bed as if you were something precious, never once breaking eye contact—his gaze burning with desire.

His lips crash into yours again—hungry and desperate. Your fingers twist in his hair, tugging sharply, and he groans against your mouth. His hands caress your body, sending shivers down your spine.

He trails hot, open-mouthed kisses down your neck, his fingers already working to strip you. Your blouse and skirt are gone in seconds, leaving you bare except for your underwear.

He pulls back just enough to drink in the sight of you, trembling, breathless—his gaze dark with hunger.

"Fuck, your gorgeous," he groans, and you squirm under the intensity of it.

"Stop staring and put your dick inside me already," you mutter, cheeks burning.

Soonyoung laughs, low and amused. "Gotta prep you first, beautiful."

Gentle fingers make quick work of your bra, his teeth grazing your skin in a teasing scrape. You gasp as your breasts are freed, and he wastes no time, claiming one with his mouth while his hand kneads the other. A moan spills from your lips as pleasure arcs through you, back arching into his touch.

He sucks hard, drawing a whimper from you, then nips playfully just to hear you gasp. You feel his smirk against your skin as he switches sides, lavishing the same torment on your other breast. Already, heat pools low in your belly, your body aching for more.

Teasing fingers drag your underwear down slowly, and you squirm beneath him. A single digit slips into your slick heat, your body's need undeniable. Your mouth falls open as his finger curls inside, coaxing a gasp from your lips. He smirks, drinking in every reaction.

His kiss is deep, possessive, as he adds a second finger. The stretch burns just enough to make you choke out a whimper, especially when he scissors you open, stretching you for what's coming.

"Taking my fingers so well," he murmurs, admiring the way you clench around him.

You whine, hiding your flushed face, and his low chuckle only deepens your embarrassment. When he withdraws his fingers, you protest with a needy whimper.

"Don't worry, beautiful," he taunts, stripping off the rest of his clothes. "I'll fill you up soon enough."

Your eyes widen at the sight of him—fuck, he's huge, even bigger than you'd imagined. You can't fathom how he’s going to fit, prep or not. Soonyoung smirks at your reaction, clearly pleased with himself.

"I'll take it slow, I promise," he promises, and you swallow hard before nodding.

He grabs a condom from the drawer, rolling it on before joining you again on the bed. His fingers brush stray hair from your face, his touch tender as he cups your cheek. Leaning in, he captures your lips in a soft kiss just as he pushes inside.

You gasp against his mouth, fingers flying to his shoulders, nails biting into his skin as he stretches you impossibly wide. He's so deep it's dizzying, and for a moment, he stills, letting you adjust despite the tension in his muscles.

A shaky nod and a squeeze of his shoulders is all it takes—he starts moving, slow and deliberate, and you melt at the sensation. Soonyoung groans at the way you clench around him, his breath ragged.

"S-Soonyoung, more," you whimper, and with a growl, he obliges.

His thrusts grow harder, faster, your moans filling the room as his name spills from your lips. Sweat glistens on his skin, his abs flexing under your wandering hands, and the way he shudders at your touch only spurs you on.

"Close?" he grits out. "Need you to come with me."

"R-Rub my clit," you beg, and his fingers are there in an instant, circling just right, relentless.

Pleasure coils tight in your stomach, your back arching as your vision whites out. Soonyoung fucks you through it, his rhythm faltering as he chases his own release.

"F-Fuck!" he snarls when he comes, hips jerking, refusing to stop until you're both spent.

You tremble beneath him, oversensitive and breathless, as he slows, dragging out the last waves of your climax before collapsing onto you.

The room falls into a comfortable silence, broken only by the sound of your heavy, laboured breaths mingling in the air. After a moment, Soonyoung gently pulls away, earning a soft whine from you at the loss of his warmth.

He presses a tender kiss to your temple, softly shushing you. "It's okay, I'll be right back," he whispers reassuringly.

Your eyelids grow heavier, the exhaustion finally catching up to you as the adrenaline wears off. You feel yourself drifting in and out of sleep, your mind hazy and your body relaxed.

The last thing you register is the comforting sensation of a warm, damp washcloth carefully tending to your skin, his touch delicate, as he takes care of you.

You bring your arm up to block the sunlight filtering in, trying to get in a few more minutes of sleep. A low groan escapes your lips as a sharp throb pulses in your head—you really shouldn't have drunk that much.

You try to roll over, but something warm and solid prevents you from doing so.

Cracking open your eyes, your blurry vision adjusts just enough for you to make out the figure beside you. Blinking a few times, you finally realise what—or rather who it is.

"S-Soonyoung?!" you gasp, sitting up abruptly.

Your eyes dart around the unfamiliar room, panic surging through you as the memories slowly piece themselves together. You clutch your head, wincing both from the headache and the horrifying realisation. Oh no…oh god no.

You just slept with your boss.

Your breathing quickens, heart racing as worst-case scenarios flash through your mind like a disaster reel. Fired. Unemployed. Homeless. Your entire life crashing down because of one drunken night.

Beside you, Soonyoung stirs, sensing your frantic energy.

"Y/N?" he mumbles groggily, voice still thick with sleep. "What's wrong?"

"Soonyoung, we—you—I—ugh!" you exclaim, words stumbling over themselves as your brain short-circuits.

He sits up beside you, clearly still half-asleep, and you quickly avert your gaze to avoid taking in his very naked state.

"Hey, hey, relax," he says gently, trying to calm you. "Why are you freaking out?"

"Why am I freaking out?! We just slept together!" you yell, flailing your arms in panic.

He blinks at you, tilting his head like a confused puppy. "And?"

You gape at him, utterly dumbfounded by his calm reaction.

"What do you mean 'and'?! If anyone finds out, we could get fired! This is serious!"

He simply shrugs, completely unfazed. "Well, I won't tell if you won't tell. So, no one's gonna know."

Your jaw drops again as you flail your arms one last time before groaning and collapsing into your hands in defeat.

"I'm way too hungover for this," you mutter, massaging your temples.

"Come on, lie back down," Soonyoung coaxes, slipping his arm around you and gently guiding you back into the bed. Too exhausted to protest, you let him.

You stare blankly at the ceiling as your mind races, anxiety swirling with every possible consequence of last night's mistake. But one thing's painfully clear:

This is definitely going to change everything.

Taglist: @tinyelfperson @gyuguys @stay-tiny-things @unlikelysublimekryptonite @miyx-amour @iamawkwardandshy @codeinebelle @brownbunnyb @do-you-remember-summer-127 @sclovreina @theidontknowmehn @toplinehyunjin @gyuhao365 @mysticfairies @cherrylovescheol @cookiearmy @4shypotato @lxnnrobin @sashaaahh @xueisaaa17 @aeriyell @eshia16 @dreamingofpcy @archivistworld @kyeomiis @iwannakisspoutycheol @foxiesgf24 @livelaughloveseventeen @kwanniehae @ateez-atiny380 @junnhuisworld @horangipower17 @cheolsbb26 @scoupshawty @shuas-winnie30 @amaranthar @cherriecsc @shadowkoo @winterisnt @combinatoright-blog @my-neurodivergent-world @jennwonwoo @smiileflower @senxgwha

[afroslacks]

So Good Part 2/?

(I need better gifs smh)

Sugar Daddy! Elijah "Smoke" Moore x Black! Reader

I open my eyes to sunlight blinding my vision.

“Rise and shine, beautiful,” Elijah says in a playful tone, knowing I’m not much of a morning person but enjoying my suffering nonetheless.

“It’s too early,” I groan, turning my head into the pillow, dreading getting out of bed.

“Girl, it’s nine o’clock in the morning,” Elijah replies as he watches me complain from his standing position, still in his pajamas from the previous night. The man has always been an early bird and a night owl at the same time. It doesn't make any sense. I know it's mainly due to his job and how proactive he is. Smoke is the type to wake up early to get a workout in, and I know this because I’ve seen him do it multiple times in the months I’ve known him.

As I continue to wallow in bed at the thought of getting up, I suddenly feel a harsh slap on my ass, jolting me upright. I slowly turn to glare in annoyance at my sugar daddy as the blanket slides down my figure and pools at my waist.

“What the hell was that for? I’m awake, just like you wanted,” I say, feeling betrayed.

“You ain’t moving fast enough for me,” he replies as he leans down over my body in bed, a smirk on his handsome face. Placing a hand under my chin to tilt my head, he says, “Don’t look so mad—you’re too pretty for that,” then pecks my lips. “Also, go downstairs. Breakfast is ready. I’m gonna work out, and then I’m all yours, baby girl.”

Walking away, he gives me a chance to stare at his muscular back—the same one I’ve had the pleasure of scratching up every time I gave him some of my cookie.

Moments later, I make my way downstairs to see that he did, indeed, make breakfast: eggs, bacon, grits, waffles, and a side of fruit. I make myself a plate before sitting down for thirty minutes, enjoying breakfast as I watch television.

Time goes by before Smoke appears from his home gym—sweaty and all—with a gold chain to match, as if he belonged on the cover of a magazine.

“How’s breakfast?” he asks, grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge.

“Good. Thank you for feeding me,” I reply, smiling.

“No problem, baby. I’m trying to make sure you have something other than one bag of chips and water,” he jokes. Smoke has always been a firm believer that I need to take care of myself properly. And for some reason, he thinks all I eat is snacks and barely any nutritious meals, like the madman he is.

But I let him have it, because sometimes I do feel light-headed.

“Anyways, I’m gonna disregard that comment, because I don’t respond to fake news,” I cut in playfully, rolling my eyes.

Smoke walks toward me before arguing, “Or, you know I’m right, as always—because you don’t eat enough when you're not with me.”

I wave a hand in his face. “That’s not true. Where do you get that from?”

He ponders, looking up at the ceiling. “I don’t know how you scarf down food like crazy when you’re with me.”

He caught me there—but I’m not gonna tell him that, because then he’s right. Half the time, I don’t even think about how hungry I am until he reminds me. It's annoying, because then he asks me a bunch of questions, like he’s my dad or something.

“Whatever. I’m done talking about it. Let’s table that discussion for the day,” I suggest, feeling tense all of a sudden.

Elijah just stares at me for a minute before agreeing.

After we both get ourselves ready for the day, Smoke tells me he has to stop by his company to handle something—and then he’s all mine for the rest of the day. We drive through the city in his black Porsche, his hand permanently resting on my thigh. I think he can be clingy at times—in the sense that he always wants to be near me or touching me. But he says, “I just want to touch you, baby.”

It makes me melt in all the best ways.

After the Porsche is parked, we walk hand in hand into Joint Company, which is the name of his business, co-owned by him and his twin brother Elias “Stack” Moore. Even though they are identical twins, they act completely differently—so it’s easy to tell them apart. Stack acts hot-headed and reckless. Smoke, on the other hand, is reserved and level-headed.

To me, it’s a no-brainer who I’d choose.

Also, Stack likes white women who want to Black themselves. They’re so down with the brown, it’s all they want to be around.

The receptionist greets Elijah as he walks by.

“Hello, Mr. Moore. It’s nice to see you, sir,” she says, while my hand stays snug in his grip.

“Same to you, Pearline.”

Riding the elevator is a short trip. He still refuses to let go of my poor hand, so I lean into his side and kiss his neck, brushing against his gold chains.

“I’ll try to make this business talk as quick as I can. Bear with me,” he promises, leaning his head to the side to give me more access.

I rub my hand across his belly. “It’s alright, baby. You know I have nowhere to go today. I’m all yours.”

The doors glide open to reveal the company floor—employees scattered across desks, doing their jobs as usual. The twins run a successful and smooth-sailing business, so they don’t have too much to worry about when it comes to their staff.

We make it to his office. We open the door to see Stack waiting. He turns around as the door opens.

“Well, look at this—my brother and his favorite girl,” he greets with a smile, flashing his grill.

I wave softly. “Hello, Stack.”

Smoke breaks away from me to greet his brother with a warm hug.

“What’s so important that you called me in?”

Stack chuckles. “It’s all business. More than usual with you today.”

Smoke smacks his lips. “You pulled me away from my time off, so yes.”

At that comment, Stack stiffens slightly, sensing his brother’s annoyance.

“Alright. Leave her here, and let’s go into my office to discuss business.”

Both twins are gone for about an hour before Smoke returns to find me seated on his couch, phone in hand. I look up as I hear the door open.

“Sorry for the wait, baby. We had to straighten some stuff out, but it’s done now,” he apologizes, sitting next to me.

I put my phone down and lean closer. “You’re all mine now?” I ask.

“There’s no place I’d rather be,” he replies with a look of longing in his eyes—like he hates being away from me.

At that look, I place my hand on his neck with a simple but firm grip.

“What’s the matter, Eli?” I ask gently.

“I just see peace when I look into your eyes.”

At that comment, my heart flutters at his confession. His beautiful brown eyes never leave mine as I press my forehead against his.

I place my lips on him deeply, causing him to groan from deep within his chest. Large hands firmly grip my waist, pulling me onto his lap while my hands wrap around his neck.

The hands rub up and down my back as we fight for dominance in each other's mouths. I pull away for a second to breathe, wishing I didn’t have to. Smoke just stares at me, eyes hazy, then forcefully pulls back into his mouth with pecks to start before kisses get deeper again.

“Smoke, we can’t do anything crazy in here,” I mutter between kisses. “Baby, we can do whatever we want; I’m the boss, remember?” he replies, not giving a fuck about the people outside the office. My hips start to grind on him as we continue. 

Elijah’s pants continue to get tighter, and his bulge gets hard under me. His hands grab one of mine from his neck to slide it towards the top of his pants. “Look what you did to me, lil mama,” he rasps, pulling back to intensely look into my eyes. I blush at the discovery, feeling a sense of pride at my accomplishment. “That’s not my fault, you just don’t know how to control yourself.” I jok,e trying to lighten the mood, hoping he’ll take it easy on me.

He shakes his head full of waves before replying “I didn’t do shit and we ain’t leaving until to take of it” he promises 

Wordlessly, I undo the buckles of his belt and unzip his pants, sliding my hand underneath his boxer briefs to wrap my hand around his length.

Slowly grazing past the pubic hair, he sighs as he leans his head back, exposing his neck in relief. “I barely got started, and you’re already acting like you’re in heat,” I joke. “Don’t start teasing,” he grits out, groaning as I start sliding my hand up and down the length.

His moaning and groaning are music to my ears.It's always funny when Elijah talks smack to me as if I don’t have the balls. “Oh would you look at that moaning like you’re my bitch” I taunt feeling a little cocky.

His breathing gets heavy at my words; he's unable to respond. Feeling overwhelmed but enough at the same time.

He’s always been the dominant one in the relationship he also enjoys it when a young thing like yourself shows him up at his own game. There’s also a level of trust and intimacy in letting you take control because he feels at ease, especially with you.

So I continue stroking him as I lean in his ear, “You can act all tough in front of everyone, but I just want you to know I’m just as capable of turning you out. No matter how much you think you have over me.”

I run my other hand over my chest, tugging on my gold chains. You lean back to hold eye contact with him as you bring him closer to pleasure and release. His stomach starts to feel tight as he gets closer, “I’m gonna-” he starts before you interrupt,“It's alright, I’ve got you,” then he releases with a grunt. 

His hand pulls you closer so you’re against his stomach and exposed length, his breathing is slowly coming down as he feels the afterglow.

Elijah starts kissing your forehead and rubbing your back, wanting to get you closer. Processing how overexposed and vulnerable yet comfortable with you in the intimacy that you shared, “As soon as you’re done collecting yourself, we can get out of here,” You say in a soft voice

A/N : I'm sleepy but, I was inspired to write. What do you think? I also appreciate all the love and support! Furthermore, the random reblgs with the memes had me dying. Anyways, see you later>

[shaiyasstuff]

echoed promises | sylus | bonus

synopsis : Your husband, once a stranger in your marriage has grown to be a loving man who stays by your side like a quiet anchor. What once felt impossible softens into something steady and deeply personal—a love built not on fireworks, but on the quiet comfort of staying. content : married life with sylus, luke and kieran cameo, fluffiest fluff fluff

“I swear to god, Luke, you will be the death of me!”

You groaned as you darted around the living room, chasing after the blur of a giggling little boy who had clearly decided bedtime was a battle worth fighting.

Behind you, that familiar, deep chuckle echoed—smooth, amused, and entirely too calm for the chaos at hand.

You turned with a glare, only to find your husband looking entirely unbothered.

He had one toddler perched effortlessly on his hip, the little one contentedly gnawing on a plush toy, while his other hand moved with casual precision, dabbing a napkin at the boy’s mouth.

The picture of composure.

“I’m so glad you’re enjoying this,” you muttered, breathless.

His smirk widened just slightly. “You’re very entertaining to watch.”

Very soon—and with much difficulty—you managed to tuck both boys into bed.

Luke had only surrendered after a long negotiation involving three bedtime stories, a glass of water, and a very serious pinky promise that monsters didn’t live under the bed.

Kieran had dozed off mid-yawn, nestled in your husband’s arms before you even reached the room.

You stood at the edge of their shared bed now, watching the slow rise and fall of tiny chests, their faces peaceful in sleep—so different from the miniature hurricanes they’d been just minutes ago.

A quiet sigh left your lips. “Finally.”

Behind you, arms slid around your waist, and a familiar warmth pressed against your back.

“Admit it,” Sylus murmured against your shoulder, voice low and laced with amusement. “You’re soft for them.”

You rolled your eyes, smiling despite yourself. “You’re worse than I am.”

He didn’t deny it. Only held you tighter.

You playfully swatted at him without looking, a lazy flick of your hand against his arm.

“They must have gotten your genes,” you muttered, eyes drifting to the two small bodies curled beneath the covers—peaceful now, angelic even, as if they hadn’t spent the last hour turning the house upside down.

Sylus leaned in closer, chin resting on your shoulder, arms still wrapped loosely around your waist.

“That sounds like praise,” he said, smug.

You huffed a quiet laugh. “It’s not.”

“They’re smart, stubborn, dramatic—definitely you.”

You turned just enough to glance at him. “You just described yourself.”

He smirked. “Exactly.”

You shook your head, smiling softly as your gaze returned to the boys. “God help us when they get older.”

“We’ll survive,” he said. “Barely.”

But in his voice, there was something softer. Like he already knew—chaos and all—he wouldn’t trade this life for anything.

You both retreated to the living room, the house finally quiet now that your twin hurricanes had surrendered to sleep.

You sank into the couch with a long sigh, curling your legs beneath you as Sylus joined you, draping his arm casually across the backrest, close—but not crowding.

It had been seven years.

Seven years since your estranged husband had shown up at your doorstep without warning, carrying more pride than luggage and looking like someone who’d run out of excuses.

Looking at your life now, it was almost hard to believe.

You’d moved out of your old apartment not long after—when Sylus made the decision to return to Paris for good.

His company had opened a new headquarters in the city, a move that was no coincidence.

He had said it plainly, like it was obvious, “It makes sense. You’re here.”

You’d found a bigger place together not long after that. Something with more space, more light, and enough room to build something new from the ground up.

This house, your home, held pieces of everything you once thought impossible—quiet mornings, laughter-filled nights, soft arguments and softer apologies.

It wasn’t perfect.

But it was real.

And it was yours.

You sighed contently, the weight of the day melting away as you nestled into the warmth of your husband’s side.

His arm shifted automatically, wrapping around you with a familiarity that had taken years to earn—but now felt as natural as breathing.

“I can’t believe we made it here,” you whispered, more to yourself than to him.

Sylus didn’t answer right away. He just looked at you—really looked—his expression softer than most people ever got to see.

“Neither can I,” he murmured, brushing his thumb gently along your arm. “But I’m glad we did.”

You closed your eyes for a moment, letting yourself feel it—this peace, this home, this version of him that had once felt out of reach.

And for once, there was no need to question it.

You were exactly where you were meant to be.

You still painted—your studio was just down the hall, quiet and sunlit, filled with half-finished canvases and the scent of dried paint.

But you didn’t attend exhibitions much these days. Not since the twins.

Your time belonged elsewhere now.

The art center you helped build with your colleagues was thriving, even without you at the helm. Your protégé had stepped up seamlessly—talented, eager, and steady. You couldn’t have asked for a better pair of hands to carry it forward.

Now, nestled beside Sylus on the living room couch, the lights dim and the house finally calm, you let your voice cut gently through the quiet.

“What time are your parents arriving tomorrow?”

Sylus shifted slightly, his arm draped around your shoulders. “Around noon,” he said. “But knowing my mother, they’ll show up early and pretend they didn’t.”

You chuckled, resting your head against him. “That gives us, what? An hour to make the house look like we’ve got everything under control?”

He smirked, brushing a lazy hand through your hair. “Fifty minutes. Ten of which I’ll spend bribing Luke to behave.”

You laughed softly. “Good luck with that.”

“Please,” he said, voice low and amused, “luck has nothing to do with it. I’ve got snacks hidden in five different places.”

You shook your head with a smile, eyes slipping shut.

It wasn’t perfect.

But it was yours.

And that made all the difference.

You leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips—slow and familiar, the kind that no longer needed grand declarations to mean everything.

Then you stood, stretching slightly as your fingers trailed along his shoulder.

“I should clean up now,” you murmured with a smile, brushing a hand through his hair. “So we can just relax tomorrow.”

He tilted his head back to look at you, eyes half-lidded, already too comfortable to protest.

Your hands cupped his face, warm and soft against his skin.

And then—without warning—you pinched his cheeks between your fingers.

He blinked, caught off guard.

“How,” you mused, eyes narrowing playfully, “are you still so attractive after all these years?”

Sylus raised a brow, unimpressed but amused. “Genetics. And sheer willpower to annoy you for the rest of your life.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “Well. It’s working.”

His smirk deepened. “I know.”

You chuckled, shaking your head as you bent down to gather the chaos your little hurricanes had left behind.

Stuffed animals, plastic blocks, and one suspiciously sticky puzzle piece—all swept into your arms with practiced ease.

You moved across the living room, your feet quiet against the floor as you dropped the toys into the box tucked beside the TV.

The room looked lived-in, a little messy, but full.

As you closed the lid on the toy box, you glanced over your shoulder—

Sylus still lounged on the couch, watching you with that lazy, unbothered smirk.

“You know,” he said, “they definitely get their energy from you.”

You scoffed. “Bold of you to say, considering you taught them how to climb the furniture.”

He shrugged. “Strategic training.”

You rolled your eyes, but the smile didn’t leave your face.

This was your life now.

And you wouldn’t trade it for anything.

Mephisto let out a low mewl from the corner of the room, stretching languidly before leaping up onto the couch beside Sylus with practiced grace.

He landed with a soft thud, curling up immediately against Sylus’s side like he owned the place—which, to be fair, he probably did.

You paused, watching him for a moment. He was much bigger now, all sleek muscle and elegant fluff, his once-short fur having grown into a soft, silvery mane over the years.

You smiled to yourself, remembering the day you’d discovered it.

“He’s long-haired?” you had blurted out, brushing your fingers through the tufts behind his ears as he purred smugly. “Why didn’t anyone tell me?”

Sylus had simply raised a brow. “You married me. You should’ve expected surprises.”

Now, watching them side by side—your smug husband and your equally smug cat—you shook your head, warmth blooming quietly in your chest.

Somehow, this strange little life you’d built together had become the most natural thing in the world.

After tidying the last of the living room, switching off the lights, and checking once more on the boys—both fast asleep and tangled in their blankets—you finally made your way to the bedroom.

The sheets were cool and inviting, the room dim except for the soft amber glow of the bedside lamp.

You slipped under the covers, letting out a quiet sigh as your body melted into the mattress.

Sylus joined you a moment later, his movements unhurried, familiar.

He pulled the blanket up over both of you, then shifted closer, one arm sliding easily around your waist.

You turned toward him, resting your forehead lightly against his chest.

He was warm, steady, and just quiet enough to match the peace that filled the room.

“Everything’s ready for tomorrow,” you murmured, eyes already beginning to flutter shut.

“Mm,” he hummed, fingers brushing against the small of your back. “Then you’ve earned sleep. For about a week.”

You smiled sleepily. “Will you watch the boys while I disappear?”

“I’ll consider it,” he teased, kissing the top of your head. “For a small fee.”

You laughed under your breath, letting your hand settle over his heart.

No more words were needed after that.

Just the soft hum of the night, and the comfort of knowing—this was home.

—•

“Oh honey! I missed you!” your mother-in-law exclaimed the moment you opened the door, sweeping you into a warm, eager embrace before you could even get a word out.

You laughed, arms wrapping around her just as tightly.

“Now,” she pulled back, eyes sparkling with excitement, “where are my grandchildren?”

Behind you, Sylus let out a dramatic sigh, dragging in the suitcases with one hand.

“Of course she hugs you first,” he muttered under his breath, loud enough to be heard. “I’m just the son, no big deal.”

You shot him a smirk over your shoulder. “Jealous?”

“Obviously,” he grumbled. “I grew this family and everything.”

His mother rolled her eyes fondly, brushing past him like she hadn’t even heard. “Sylus, be useful and fetch the boys. I’m here for the important people.”

You bit back a laugh as he shot you an exasperated look, but you could see the faint smile tugging at his lips.

Home, chaos, and family—just the way it always was.

Your father-in-law stepped through the doorway not long after, his presence quieter but no less grounding.

He gave you a polite nod at first, his usual composed demeanor in place—until his gaze settled on you fully.

Then, something softened.

“Has my boy been treating you good?” he asked, his voice low and warm, a hint of teasing behind the formality.

You smiled, the kind that came without effort now. “Better than I expected,” you said, just loud enough for Sylus to hear.

From behind you, Sylus scoffed. “She means I do all the work while she takes the credit.”

Your father-in-law gave a rare, amused hum, eyes flicking between the two of you. “Then I taught him right.”

It was subtle—nothing grand—but there was something in his tone, in the way he looked at you, that said more than his words ever did.

You were part of this family now. Not just by name.

But truly.

You stepped aside, beckoning them in with a warm smile.

“Come on in,” you said, holding the door as they passed.

Once they were inside, you gently shut it behind them, the sound muffled by the cozy hum of your home.

Mephisto trotted over and curled neatly at your feet, tail flicking once as if already claiming his spot in the unfolding reunion.

You glanced toward the hallway and raised your voice just enough to carry.

“Luke! Kieran! Come greet your grandparents!”

There was a beat of silence—then the unmistakable thump of hurried footsteps, a flurry of energy barreling through the hall.

The sound of tiny feet, muffled laughter, and a crash that was probably nothing serious.

Just your everyday brand of chaos.

Your mother-in-law gasped with delight the moment the boys came tumbling into view.

“There you are, my darlings!” she exclaimed, dropping to her knees with surprising ease for someone in heels.

Both Luke and Kieran launched themselves into her open arms without hesitation, all giggles and uncontainable energy.

She wrapped them up tightly, rocking them side to side in an embrace that was more joy than anything else. “You’ve both gotten so big! What are you feeding them, sunshine?”

From beside you, Sylus muttered, “And chaos.”

You snorted, elbowing him gently.

Meanwhile, your father-in-law stood nearby, hands behind his back, watching the scene unfold with a softened expression he probably thought he was hiding well.

Mephisto purred at your feet, as if offering his own quiet welcome home.

“I prepared lunch if you guys are hungry,” you said with a warm smile, glancing toward the dining room.

Your mother-in-law looked up from where she was still hugging the boys, eyes bright. “Oh, sweetheart, you didn’t have to—but I am starving.”

Your father-in-law gave a small nod of approval. “Smells good,” he remarked, already following the scent drifting in from the kitchen.

Sylus raised a brow, clearly amused. “See? She is the favorite.”

You flashed him a smug look.

The boys had already wriggled free, racing toward the table with shouts of “I want the seat by Grandma!” and “No, I do!”

Mephisto followed at a slower pace, tail high, as if supervising the procession.

And with the clatter of small feet and the soft laughter that filled the room, you knew—this was the kind of ordinary that you’d always hoped for.

—•

Everyone gathered at the table, the soft clatter of dishes and the warmth of home-cooked food settling like a gentle hush over the room.

Your mother-in-law sat between the twins, helping Kieran cut his food while Luke rambled excitedly about his latest “invention” that involved tape, crayons, and a suspiciously missing spoon.

She laughed, utterly charmed. “You two are just like your father,” she said fondly, ruffling Luke’s hair.

Sylus, across from her, gave a long-suffering sigh. “Please don’t curse them like that.”

You rolled your eyes with a smile as you set down a bowl of soup. “It’s too late. The damage is done.”

Your father-in-law sat at the end of the table, quieter as always, but the look he gave you as he took the first bite said enough—approving, satisfied. Maybe even a little impressed.

The boys were loud, the food was a little messy, and Mephisto had already claimed his spot beneath the table like a silent guardian.

You slid into your seat beside Sylus, your shoulder brushing his for a second as he passed you the serving spoon.

“Luke, Kieran,” you said, your tone sharp enough to cut through their growing chatter, “behave.”

Both boys froze mid-fidget, glancing at you with wide eyes before immediately straightening in their chairs, forks in hand, suddenly very focused on their plates.

Your mother-in-law laughed, covering her mouth with a napkin. “Oh, she’s got the voice. I love it.”

Even your father-in-law let out a quiet chuckle, nodding approvingly.

Sylus leaned toward you with a smirk, his voice low. “Terrifying. I’m oddly proud.”

You shot him a look. “You should be. They learned it from watching you.”

The table melted into soft laughter, the boys sneaking glances at each other but staying obedient—for now.

“Time really flies,” your father-in-law said, setting his glass down with a quiet clink. “The last time we were here, the boys were barely a year old.”

You glanced at Luke and Kieran—now deep in a silent competition to see who could eat faster without getting scolded again—and felt a tug at your chest.

“They couldn’t even walk yet,” your mother-in-law added with a wistful smile. “Sylus was still convinced one of them would start flying before crawling.”

“I stand by that,” Sylus said smoothly, not missing a beat. “They’ve always been suspiciously aerodynamic.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “And now they’re sprinting through the house like tiny tornados.”

“Your fault,” he muttered.

“Mine?”

“You encouraged it. With cookies.”

Your in-laws laughed quietly, the kind of laughter that comes with age, memory, and the comfort of watching something grow right in front of you.

And as the sunlight filtered through the dining room windows, catching the warmth in every voice and every plate passed, you realized—

he was right.

Time really had flown.

But it had brought you here.

To this.

And it was enough.

After lunch, everyone drifted into the living room, the kind of slow, full procession that only came after a meal shared between people who knew each other well.

The twins had already claimed the floor, knee-deep in some heated debate over which of their toy cars was faster. Kieran was dramatically pointing, Luke already pouting.

You sank into the couch beside Sylus with a quiet sigh, only to feel his arm curl instinctively around your waist, warm and grounding.

Turning toward his parents, you offered a soft smile. “How’ve you been? Mother, Father?”

Your mother-in-law settled into the armchair across from you, one leg crossed over the other, hands still folded with elegant grace. “Busy, as always. Your father’s been obsessing over the garden again.”

Your father-in-law didn’t even look up from his tea. “Meticulous is the word.”

She waved him off, smiling. “And I’ve been catching up with some old friends. Though none of them have grandchildren this entertaining.”

You chuckled, glancing at your boys now in the midst of racing their cars in opposite directions. “They have their moments.”

“They take after you,” Sylus murmured at your ear, low enough for only you to hear.

You glanced up at him, amused. “The chaos or the charm?”

His lips curved, brushing a kiss to your temple. “Both.”

You chuckled softly at the thought—your father-in-law, the man who once reminded you of a strict headmaster with his sharp gaze and clipped words, now so deeply invested in gardening.

It was almost hard to imagine him with dirt under his nails, inspecting rose bushes instead of company reports.

“I just can’t picture it,” you said, grinning as you looked over at him. “You, in gloves, pruning hydrangeas?”

He gave you a look—deadpan, unimpressed. “I wear a hat too. Wide-brimmed. Very dignified.”

Your mother-in-law let out a laugh. “You should see him talking to the plants. He denies it, of course.”

“I do not talk to them,” he muttered. “I make observations.”

Sylus snorted beside you. “Right. Loud, emotionally supportive observations.”

You leaned into him, grinning. “I think it’s sweet.”

Your father-in-law only shook his head, but the faintest smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.

The image stayed with you—this quiet evolution of a man you once thought impossible to reach.

And somehow, it made everything feel even more real.

Like life had softened all of you in just the right places.

Sylus’s arm curled a little tighter around your waist, pulling you subtly closer as the conversation carried on around you.

Then, in that low, effortless murmur only meant for you, he leaned in just enough for his breath to graze your skin.

“Have I ever told you that you smell nice?”

You felt his smile before you saw it—lazy, fond, laced with that familiar teasing warmth.

He tilted his head, burying his nose briefly in the crook of your neck as if to prove his point, breathing you in like he hadn’t done it a hundred times before.

Your cheeks flushed, a soft laugh escaping you as you tried to nudge him away without much effort.

“You have,” you whispered, trying to sound annoyed but falling short.

“Good,” he murmured, lips brushing your temple. “Needed you to remember.”

Across the room, your in-laws were still chatting over tea, the twins chasing each other around the rug with toy cars.

You watched the room, heart full in a way words couldn’t quite capture.

Kieran was making dramatic engine noises while Luke insisted on explaining the “rules” of their made-up game, even though no one seemed to be following them.

Your mother-in-law played along with infinite patience, and even your father-in-law—stoic as ever—had the ghost of a smile tugging at his mouth as he sipped his tea, quietly observing it all like a man who secretly loved the noise but would never admit it.

The late afternoon sun spilled across the living room, casting warm light over the carpet, the toys, the half-finished tea, and the soft chaos of family. There was laughter. Comfort. The kind of peace you used to think belonged to someone else. Someone with a different story.

But here it was. Yours.

You turned toward Sylus, the weight of the moment pressing gently on your chest. He was relaxed beside you, one arm draped loosely around your waist, gaze drifting toward the boys as if he was memorizing everything without realizing it.

You studied him for a second—those quiet eyes, that faint smirk always threatening to grow into something softer—and you leaned in, brushing a kiss against his cheek.

Not rushed. Not fleeting. Just full of meaning.

He turned to you slightly, brows raised in surprise, but you spoke before he could ask.

“I’m really glad you showed up at my door,” you said, your voice quiet, but steady.

His expression shifted—not dramatic, just real. A flicker of surprise. Then something warmer, deeper.

“Yeah?” he asked, just barely above a whisper.

You nodded, eyes meeting his. “You changed everything.”

For a moment, neither of you spoke.

Then he reached up, fingers brushing gently along your jaw as if grounding himself in you. His voice was low when he finally replied, the teasing gone now—just sincerity, bare and soft.

“I didn’t know what I was doing back then,” he admitted. “But I knew I wanted to stay.”

Your heart tightened, full and aching in the best way.

“And you did,” you whispered. “We both did.”

He leaned in, his forehead resting lightly against yours.

And in the middle of the laughter, the mess, the distant clatter of racing toys, the two of you sat there quietly—no longer just a promise, but the proof of what choosing each other, day after day, had built.

—•

Evening settled over the house in a hush of gold and lavender, casting long shadows across the floor as the last light of day slipped away.

Your in-laws stood by the door, coats on, bags in hand, their visit coming to a gentle close.

Your mother-in-law hugged you tightly, her perfume familiar, comforting. “You’ve made a lovely home,” she whispered, brushing your cheek. “We’re proud of you both.”

Your father-in-law gave a simple nod, his gaze resting on you for a beat longer than usual. “Take care of each other,” he said.

“We will,” you promised.

As they stepped outside and the door clicked shut behind them, a quiet settled over the entryway.

You were about to turn away when you felt arms slip around your waist from behind—firm, grounding, unmistakably his.

Sylus rested his chin on your shoulder, his body warm against your back, holding you close without saying a word at first.

You leaned into him, closing your eyes for just a second.

“They’ve changed,” you murmured.

He hummed in agreement, his breath soft against your ear. “Or maybe they just see us clearly now.”

You turned slightly, enough to glimpse his face—calm, unreadable in that familiar way, but his eyes gave him away.

There was something tender there, something still in awe of what the two of you had built.

“You think they’re proud?” you asked, quieter this time.

He didn’t hesitate. “Of you? Always.” Then he smirked. “Of me? That might’ve taken some convincing.”

You let out a soft laugh, resting your hands over his.

“Well… you have come a long way.”

He pulled you in a little closer, his voice a low murmur against your neck. “So have we.”

You tilted your head back just enough to meet his eyes, a smile playing on your lips. “I’m glad you stayed.”

His reply was barely a whisper. “There was never another choice.”

You chuckled softly, the warmth of his arms around you and the quiet hum of the evening settling deep in your chest.

“We’re still as romantic as ever,” you teased, glancing up at him with a playful glint in your eyes.

Sylus raised a brow, his smirk returning with ease. “You mean me holding you in a dimly lit hallway while the twins scream over who gets the blue cup isn’t peak romance?”

You laughed, leaning your head back against his shoulder. “Honestly? It kind of is.”

He pressed a kiss just beneath your ear, slow and deliberate. “Then I guess I’m still doing something right.”

You turned in his arms, looping yours around his neck as you looked up at him. “We both are.”

His gaze softened, the teasing falling away for just a moment as he looked at you like you were still the only thing in the room that mattered.

You gazed up at him, at the way the low light caught the red in his eyes—sharp, striking, and yet softened only for you.

There was a quiet in the space between you, the kind that felt full rather than empty.

Your fingers curled gently at the nape of his neck, and your voice came out steady, certain.

“I love you.”

No teasing this time. No playful jab. Just the truth, laid bare between heartbeats.

Sylus didn’t look away. Didn’t smirk.

He simply held your gaze like it anchored him.

“I know,” he said, his voice low. Then, after a beat, just as quietly—“I love you too.”

You both lingered in that moment just a little longer, hearts steady, wrapped in a silence that felt like home.

Then, from the living room, came the unmistakable crash of toy cars colliding, followed by Luke’s loud declaration of victory and Kieran’s dramatic groan of defeat.

You exchanged a look with Sylus—equal parts tired and amused.

“Duty calls,” you murmured.

“Tiny tyrants await,” he replied with a sigh, pressing one last kiss to your forehead before releasing you.

Together, you stepped back into the living room. The boys were still sprawled on the floor, surrounded by a minefield of toys and pillows, their energy somehow untouched by the full day behind them.

“Alright, time’s up,” you said, voice firm but gentle. “Bed.”

“But we’re not even tired,” Luke whined as Kieran nodded in fierce agreement—just before a yawn gave him away.

Sylus smirked. “Sure you’re not.” He moved in without warning, effortlessly scooping up Luke with one arm and hoisting him into the air. “Come on, warrior. Time to recharge for tomorrow’s battles.”

You bent down to gather Kieran into your arms, pressing a kiss to the top of his head as he buried his face in your shoulder, already halfway to sleep.

The twins mumbled soft protests, but their limbs grew heavier with each step down the hall.

And as you walked together—Sylus beside you, boys cradled in your arms, the house dim and quiet around you—you felt it again.

That quiet, enduring kind of love.

Not loud. Not perfect. But deeply, unmistakably yours.

masterlist

[kannady]

If you’re still looking for Sylus smut prompts I’ll throw 2 of my favorite tropes out there: ‘But there was only one bed’ and the whole ‘having to pretend were a couple but we don’t actually want to pretend.’ I’ll throw ‘sex pollen’ and ‘strip poker/kitty cards’ in as bonus options. By no means feel free to use any of these, just happy to offer any help to the brainstorming process :)

whiskey and sin

pairing: sylus x fem!reader

summary: you've started to fall for the Leader of Onychinus. but what happens when you remember your tragic past? will the yearning still linger or fade away?

a/n: had the worst possible day ever and there are worse days to come in the next week. so i decided to write as it made me feel so much better. also i found this chinese song that gave me this idea which i decided to merge with the second idea from the req. altho im now noticing i did get a lil sidetracked so it might not be exact. hope you enjoy it, lemme know your thoughts!

genre: nsfw content, smut, sylus smut, public sex, p in v, backshotsy(?) 18+ MDNI.

It started ever since you managed to procure the brooch from Sylus. At first, you started brushing it off as deja vu. What else could it mean? Every time you saw him, talked to him, every accidental touch. You felt like you knew him, yet you’d never seen him before.

Why did everything feel so familiar with him? 

Was it the way he talked? That erotic, deep, velvety voice of his. Like aged whiskey. It screamed confidence and dominance. The voice that never had to be raised because the whole world already kneeled the moment he spoke.

Was it the way he looked at you? Those dark, heavy-lidded eyes that drank in your every detail. The gaze that stripped you off of every piece of clothing and devoured you whole. The brow that raised every time you lied.

Or was it the way he touched you? Fingers lingering just a second too long, enough for you to feel the heat of his skin. His chest grazed your back as he reached for something behind you. That traitorous hitch in your breath. 

It was getting unbearable with every passing moment. Yes, he was, indeed, a very good-looking man. Sexy, handsome. Beautiful.  Obviously, you were attracted to him. You’d never denied that. And now, perhaps, that was getting to you. 

Getting your hands on the brooch wasn’t easy. You needed to attend the auction and Sylus was your only safe way of getting there. As much as you wanted to avoid him, you couldn’t. Sharing the same space with him made it impossible to deny your feelings for him. You were absolutely not falling for him. But you wanted him. In ways you couldn't explain or comprehend for that matter. Was he perhaps drugging you?

There were still a few days left for the auction. Sylus was nowhere to be found. The twins, too, left you in the company of solitude. There’s only so much one can do alone in a huge mansion. As boredom kicked in, you crept out of your room, wary of Mephisto. You didn’t want him spying on you. Walking down the corridor, you came across a hall. No doors, just paintings adorned on the walls. 

Taking slow and measured steps, you carefully observed each painting. Some of them were landscapes, others abstract paintings that you never really understood. Studying each piece, a particular painting caught your eye. It captured a vast and endless field cradled with rolling hills. Flowers as crimson as fresh blood were blooming in abundance. Captivated by its allure, you couldn’t help but stare in awe for who knew how long.

Your lips moved before you brain caught on, “Tarus City.”

The place looked familiar as if it were etched in the depths of your memories. You’d never been there before, you didn’t know anybody who had, so what was it? The unease lingered on till you went to bed. You didn’t know if Sylus was back yet, but you didn’t want to go find out. What if he saw you? The newfound emotions were already plaguing your thoughts and mind, and now this. It was almost impossible to lie to Sylus. 

So you lay in bed immersed in thoughts, waiting for sleep to come pouring in and save you from this agony. Lately it felt as if sleeping was the only peace of mind you were spared with. 

After what felt like an eternity, the D-day dawned. To your surprise, Sylus had already prepared the perfect attire for you. A maroon dress that dripped like crushed rubies against your skin with a plunging neckline and delicate strap sleeves. The high slit teased glimpses of your toned thigh with every step. Paired with elegant black stiletto heels that clicked like a loaded gun on marble floors.

Maroon. It was his colour. Wearing that dress made you strangely ecstatic. It felt like he was making his claim on you. With what you’d been feeling the last couple days, this was nothing short of torture. You didn’t know how he felt. Hell, did he even feel anything at all? But these little gestures just confused you.

The evening was, so far, uneventful. You’d brought protocores for ridiculously high prices. Mostly because Sylus didn’t want to seem “broke” and also because you wanted to get a reaction out of him, but that turned out to be quite futile. Turned out, using his money only fueled his ego. 

Somewhere in the middle of the night, Sylus invited you to the dance floor, to which you couldn’t say no. Neither did you want to nor you could because you needed to know where the aether core was. 

Sylus extended his hand, which you gladly took. The moment he held your hand in his, he raised it up to his lips and planted a gentle kiss on your fingers. His lips lingered on your fingers for just a moment longer, but he never broke eye contact. Had his eyes left yours at all that evening? 

“Eyes on me, kitten.”

Why’d he have to be fucking handsome? He was making it very difficult for you to focus on anything, but him. Lately, he had infiltrated your mind like an infectious virus. You smelled him everywhere around the house. Warm Leather and amber. When he was around, you couldn’t take your eyes off him. When he wasn’t, you couldn’t stop thinking about him. What was wrong with you?

As he twirled you in his arms, you felt heat prickling your body. Black scales and horn, red markings all over his chest, his heart… It was Sylus. But why was he dying? You held him in your arms, tightly embracing him as he breathed his last.

In a fleeting moment, that flashback ended. You felt Sylus’s warm hand on the small of your back, while the other one held yours and guided you along the floor.

“You’re thinking too loud, sweetie.”

You looked up at him. The crimson eyes, smug expression, chiseled features. You’re sure it was him. Was this why all the occurrences started the moment you met him? You’d known him in your past life. You’d killed him, hadn’t you?

“Are you okay, (reader)?”

“Stayrus.”

That seemed to have had quite the effect on him. Hands still lingering on your body, he stopped. His expression changed and for the first time, it was readable. His brows were slightly creased and raised. His eyes appeared crestfallen. They were glassy. He opened his lips to speak, but stopped. His voice betrayed him.

What did ‘Stayrus’ mean and why did it have that effect on him?

By now, you two were the only ones not swaying to the music playing, everything forgotten, just staring into the depths of each other's eyes. Slowly retreating from his embrace, you took a few steps back and quietly retired from the dance floor.

You never believed in past lives and all the fate and destiny crap, but this was different. You were falling for someone you hardly knew, but felt like you’d known him forever. As you took quick steps out of the facility, cold air brushed past your face. Warm tears were prickling down your cheeks. 

You couldn’t explain it any more than the fact that you were devastated. You’d killed Sylus in your previous life, but why did it matter now? He was right there in front of you. But maybe you never changed. Maybe you’d kill him again if he didn’t step back. 

The cold night air bit at your skin as you stumbled forward, heels clicking unevenly against the pavement. You needed distance. Needed to breathe. But before you could take another step, a firm hand closed around your wrist.

You were yanked backward, your back colliding with a solid chest. The scent of warm leather and amber flooded your senses, and your stomach twisted. Sylus.

"Running away, kitten?" His voice was low, but the usual smugness was gone. Stripped raw.

You wrenched yourself free, whirling to face him. His crimson eyes were darker now, brows drawn together, lips parted like he wanted to say something but couldn’t. The sight of him so visibly unsettled only made the ache in your chest worse.

"Stay away from me," you choked out, voice cracking.

His expression flickered. "Talk to me."

"No." You took a step back, hands shaking. "You don’t get to– to look at me like that. Not after what I–" A sob ripped through you, hot tears spilling over. "I killed you." The words were a whisper, a confession.

Sylus went utterly still.

The silence between you was suffocating. You could see it now. The way his throat worked, the way his fingers flexed at his sides like he was fighting the urge to reach for you. When he finally spoke, his voice was rough. "You remember."

It wasn’t a question.

You shook your head, nails digging into your palms. "Flashes. Just enough to know I held you while you died. Enough to know it was my fault." Your breath hitched. "And now you’re here, and I—" You pressed your palms  into your eyes, as if you could push the images away. "I don’t understand. Why aren’t you angry? Why do you keep touching me, looking at me like–"

"Like what?" He took a step closer, and you stumbled back.

"Like you want me!" The admission tore free, ragged and desperate. "After everything, how can you even stand to be near me?"

Sylus exhaled sharply, something unreadable flashing across his face. Then, slowly, deliberately, he closed the distance between you. His hands came up, cradling your face, thumbs brushing away tears you hadn’t realized were still falling.

"Because I do want you," he murmured, voice like gravel. "Then. Now. In every damn lifetime."

You froze.

His next words were quieter, almost vulnerable. "You think I don’t remember too?"

Your heart stopped.

His words seared into you, branding your soul. Then. Now. In every damn lifetime.

You didn’t have time to process them, you couldn’t, not when his hands were on your face, his breath warm against your lips, his eyes holding yours with a possessiveness that made your knees weak.

"Prove it," you whispered, the challenge trembling between you.

Sylus’s mouth crashed into yours before the last syllable faded.

It wasn’t gentle. It was claiming.

His lips moved against yours with a hunger that was lined with desperation, his tongue sliding against the seam of your mouth until you gasped, and then he was deeper, tasting you like a man starved. One hand fisted in your hair, angling your head back, while the other gripped your waist, pulling you flush against him. You could feel every hard plane of his body, the way his heartbeat thundered against your chest.

You moaned into his mouth, fingers tangling in the silk of his hair, nails scraping his scalp. He growled. A low, primal sound that vibrated through you and suddenly you were being walked backward until your spine hit the cold stone wall of the facility.

Sylus didn’t break the kiss.

He devoured you.

His teeth nipped at your lower lip, his tongue licking into your mouth in slow, filthy strokes that had your thighs clenching. The hand in your hair tightened, just shy of pain, while the other slid down to grip your thigh, hiking your leg around his hip. The maroon dress rode up, the slit exposing your skin to the cold air, but all you could focus on was the heat of him. The way his fingers dug into your flesh like he wanted bruises in the shape of his fingerprints.

"Mine," he rasped against your lips, voice wrecked.

You whimpered, arching into him, your nails dragging down the back of his neck. "Yours."

The admission shattered whatever restraint he had left. His mouth slanted over yours again, harder, deeper, his hips grinding against you in a way that made your breath hitch. You could feel him, all of him, hard and throbbing through the layers of fabric. The friction was maddening, not enough, and you rocked against him with a broken sound.

Sylus tore his mouth from yours, his breath ragged. "Look at me."

You forced your eyes open, your vision hazy with desire.

His pupils were blown, his lips swollen from your kisses, his chest rising and falling as unevenly as yours. For the first time, the mask of control was gone, replaced by something raw, needy.

"Say it again," he demanded, thumb brushing your kiss-slick bottom lip.

You didn’t hesitate. "Yours."

His groan was your reward before his lips found yours once more, sealing the desire between. Desire that tasted like whiskey, like sin.

His lips left yours, trailing down your jaw, his teeth scraping the sensitive skin just below your ear. You gasped, fingers tightening in his hair as his mouth found the column of your throat.

"Sylus–"

His response was a low hum against your pulse, the vibration making your knees weak. Then his tongue flicked over the spot. Once, twice, before his teeth sank in.

You cried out, arching against him, the sharp sting melting into your skin as he sucked, hard enough to mark you. His hand slid from your thigh to grip your hip, holding you in place as he worked another mark just above your collarbone.

"Mine," he murmured against your skin.

A shudder ran through you, but the distant murmur of voices from the auction hall had your breath hitching. "W-what if someone sees us?" you whispered, even as your body betrayed you, pressing closer.

Sylus chuckled, the sound rough with desire. He pulled back just enough to meet your eyes, his thumb brushing over the fresh bruise he’d left. "Let them."

Then his mouth was on you again, licking into the hollow of your throat as his free hand slipped beneath the slit of your dress, fingers skating up your bare thigh. Your moan was loud, too loud, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. Not when his touch burned through you like this, not when every drag of his lips made your thoughts scatter.

"You taste so fucking good," he growled, nipping at your earlobe. "And you’re all mine tonight."

You whimpered, nails biting into his shoulders as his fingers teased higher, his breath hot against your ear. 

"Now tell me, do you want someone to see us?"

The question was a trap, but you were too far gone to resist.

"No," you breathed.

His teeth grazed your neck in warning.

"Liar."

The word was a growl against your skin, rough with possession, as Sylus's fingers found the zipper of your dress. The sound of it sliding down was obscenely loud in the quiet of the night, the fabric parting like a sigh beneath his touch. Cool air brushed over your exposed back, but his hands were fire, skimming up your spine before pushing the straps off your shoulders.

The dress pooled at your waist.

His breath hitched. "Fuck."

The hunger in his voice sent a shudder through you, your nipples hardening under his gaze. He didn't touch you, not yet. Just stared, his crimson eyes darkening as he took in the way your chest rose with each ragged breath.

Then his hands were on you, rough and demanding, cupping the weight of your breasts, thumbs brushing over your nipples in slow, maddening circles. You whimpered, arching into his touch, but he tsked,

pinching lightly.

"Patience, kitten."

You didn't have any left.

His mouth was on you before you could protest, lips closing around one peaked nipple, tongue swirling in a way that had your knees buckling. You cried out, fingers tangling in his hair as he sucked, hard, the sharp pleasure-pain making your hips jerk. His free hand palmed your other breast, squeezing just shy of too much, and you melted, a moan spilling from your lips.

"Sylus-!"

He switched sides, lavishing the same attention on your other breast, his teeth scraping over the sensitive nipple before soothing it with his tongue. You were panting now, your skin flushed, your core aching with every flick of his tongue.

You couldn't take it anymore.

Your hands slid down his chest, fingers fumbling with the buckle of his belt. He groaned against your skin, hips jerking forward as you palmed him through his jeans. God, he was huge, already hard and straining against the fabric.

"Fuck," he hissed, pulling back just enough to watch you. "Look at you, greedy little thing."

You didn't care. You were greedy. For him. For this.

You popped the button of his jeans, dragging the zipper down with trembling fingers. His cock sprang free, thick and heavy in your hand, and you moaned at the feel of him, the way his pulse jumped under your touch.

Sylus's breath came out in a sharp exhale, his fingers tightening in your hair. "Stroke me.”

You obeyed, twisting your wrist on the upstroke, thumb swiping over the bead of precum at his tip. His groan was filthy, his hips thrusting into your grip as you worked him, slow and teasing.

"Fuck– Faster."

You sped up, squeezing just the way you knew he liked, (how did you know that?), and his head fell back, a string of curses falling from his lips.

But then his hand closed over yours, stilling your movements.

"Enough."

Before you could protest, he spun you around, pressing your chest against the cold stone wall. His body covered yours, his cock nestled against the curve of your ass as his hands slid down your sides, pushing your dress up around your waist.

"You're dripping," he murmured, dragging a finger through your folds. You gasped at the contact, your hips rocking back against him.

"Please–"

"Please what?" His breath was hot against your ear as he teased your entrance, circling but not pushing in.

You whined, desperate. "Fuck me."

He chuckled, low and dark. "Since you asked so nicely." And then he was inside you, filling you in one brutal thrust. You screamed.

He was everywhere, stretching you, ruining you, his cock hitting that spot inside you that made your vision white out. You clawed at the wall, but his hand wrapped around your throat, not squeezing, just holding, forcing you to take every inch.

"So fucking tight," he growled, his hips snapping forward. "So perfect for me.”

You couldn't speak, couldn't think, not with the way he was pounding into you, each thrust dragging against your walls in a way that had you seeing stars. His free hand slipped around your hip, fingers finding your clit, rubbing tight circles that had you shaking.

"Come for me," he ordered, his voice rough. "Now."

You shattered.

Your orgasm ripped through you like a wildfire, your body clamping down around him as you screamed his name. He fucked you through it, his pace never faltering, his own release building with every snap of his hips.

"Mine," he snarled, his teeth sinking into your shoulder as he came, his cock pulsing inside you, filling you up.

You collapsed against the wall, boneless, his body heavy against yours as you both struggled to catch your breath.

His lips brushed your ear.

"And don't you ever forget it, kitten."

tags: @plzdonutpercieveme

[solargrove]

The Halawis 🏡 more details under the cut

This project has sort of taken over my brain lately, but I have been itching to play with a big family (and perhaps try my hand at some rotational gameplay) and thus, the Halawi family was born!

The eldest Halawi members are Yusuf and Ruqayya Halawi, and to them were born four sons: Tarek, Omar, Walid and Zain. They operate the library in Copperdale, where Yusuf finds immense joy in his bookkeeping and Ruqayya teaches art classes in the conference room from time to time.

Tarek is the single father of Farah, his pride and joy. He has been raising her on his own since she was still in diapers, beginning at a difficult time of his life when Farah's mother unexpectedly walked out on their family. Being the eldest of 4 brothers, Tarek is no stranger to stepping up when he needs to and he has done a wonderful job with this little girl! Farah is the apple of her grandparents' eyes too, and at times, Ruqayya sees her as the daughter she never had, but always wanted. Tarek, at the moment, is a Medical Intern, hoping to one day fulfill his dream of becoming a Pediatrician.

Omar is married to Rachel, and they have the twins, Abel and Amir! He works as a line-cook at one of the best diners in Copperdale, but he has always had aspirations to open his own family restaurant someday! Rachel, who has a knack for gardening, stays at home and takes care of their two beautiful children, who are growing more and more each day! Abel is incredibly gifted intellectually, excelling in school like it's second nature. Amir, the rambunctious one, has a bit of a mean streak, but don't be fooled, he has a soft spot for his brother and wouldn't dare let a soul pick on him. The four of them live relatively close to Tarek and Farah, just across the pier.

Walid and Nadine just recently tied the knot and made the move from Copperdale to San Sequoia to be closer to Nadine's parents. Their son, little Jonas, has captured their hearts in ways they can hardly explain! He is the type of kid that strangers stop in the grocery store to tell his parents just how adorable he is, and of course he is spoiled rotten by them because who could tell him no? But Jonas, thankfully, is as angelic and silly as they come, hardly ever giving his parents any trouble. Walid currently works in tech support, with ambitions to begin his own company in the coming years. Nadine, on the total opposite end of the spectrum, is a Romance Consultant, where her passion is in counselling her clients and promoting healthy relationship techniques.

Lastly, but certainly not least, we have Zain. He's the baby of his family, being the youngest of his four brothers, and he's got the rebelliousness to match. Always somewhat the black sheep, he often felt like he never fit in with the rest of the bunch. His siblings all boast tradition, intellect and commitment, whereas Zain channels his energy into more unconventional, artistic avenues. The day he turned 18, he left the family home and bought a one-way ticket to San Myshuno and never looked back. He currently resides in the Arts Quarter with his roommate, the one and only Salim Benali, whom he met at a Festival in the city and clicked with almost immediately. Zain's art speaks for itself, gaining him a subtle amount of notoriety that he feels can eventually propel into something real. Something entirely his own. But that's still a ways down the road, so for now, he's got his freelance gigs to help pay his share of the bills. Let's just hope that Salim doesn't mind his...instability.

[kabuki-writes]

Twin Suns

chapter: 8 chapter 1 | 2 | 3| 4 | 5 | 6 | 7

pairing: emperor geta/emperor caracalla x acacius' daughter!reader

summary: With you being the wife of his brother now and therefore a part of the royal court, it gets increasingly harder for Emperor Caracalla to not seek your company. Noticing his interest in you, Emperor Geta sets up a twisted game to benefit from his twin's desires.

warning(s): MDNI | implied smut warning | partially non consent | Geta being Geta and Caracalla being Caracalla | semi-edited | english is not my first language, faults may occur | please let me know if i missed anything

Note: I know, i know! It took me quite some time to get this chapter ready for you. Writer blocks are sadly a thing and i am not immune to that ughhhh! But this series will continue, even though it might take longer than i initially expected it to be. Also there are some new projects i'd like to work on, but they'll probably going to be one-shots. Stay tuned and thank you for your patience <3!

word count: 3.1k

Rome felt different during the summer days. It barely rained and the bright sun turned the city into a melting pot. The heat could become a torture, at least for the common citizens, who had to live and work in the dense streets of the Aventin or the other districts outside the Palatin hill. In the previous decades, fires caused by drought and bad luck were a common problem, especially in the districts of the poor. It was nothing that was new but it only added to the pile of other injustices, which grab around like a plague, being it hunger or the slow decay of any morals that were once held so high by the Roman elite.

The upper classes themselves however had their ways of dealing with those "problems". A lot of them left the city during those hot months as they owned homes in the countryside with the same amount of comfort they enjoyed in the capital. One of the most lavish and gigantic depictions of such a summer residence was the palace of the Emperors in Anzio, directly built at the coastline and a few miles south of Rome. This place was almost like a small city in itself, a symbol of Emperor Geta's and Caracalla's wealth, even though it was actually their father, who restored the old palace that once belonged to Emperor Nero. Emperor Septimius Severus modernized the old walls and equipped the residence to be a retreat for his family. Just as their palace in Rome, their summer residence had everything Caracalla and Geta expected in their roles as the most powerful men in the world. An army of servants rushed around to cook and clean up, take care of the garden, or simply do whatever was needed. Additionally, as always, the Emperors had their entourage of concubines with them, who stayed with the other servants and slaves in another part of the palace - ready to be called whenever they were needed.

Over the last passing weeks after your wedding with Emperor Geta, you'd tried your best to get used to all of this - to the luxury and the way all eyes were always set on you, ready to watch every damn move you did. You rarely got any moment for yourself, since it was expected from you to stick at Geta's side, smile and be at his service every second of the day. And he had used this situation over and over again. Your husband would say that this was just the way he offered you his love, but the reality was that he was a very lustful and demanding man. One that searched for your approval so desperately through all the touches, kisses and pleasures he viewed as a gift, but you only took them to preserve your pride behind a carefully crafted mask of adaption. You despised the lavish parties, the concubines, the twisted game everyone of the royal court seemed to play, so that they wouldn't end up crucified the next morning. And you knew so well, that just like your father, you were fighting to save your family too - not on the battlefield, but in the front of the Emperor and in his bed.

Letters from General Acacius were a rarity, when he was off on a campaign at the end of the Roman Empire. A messenger needed weeks, often over a month until he was able to deliver to the right person. Holding the papyrus paper in your hands felt like holding a godly present, when you read the written words that were only meant for you over and over again. Beginning with "My dearest, my beloved daughter", Acacius told her about the exhausting travel, the situation of his legions as well as his own, about the siege of Numidia - the last free city of Africa Nova and more. In his letter it was an upcoming and unavoidable happening, but given all the time between writing and delivering, the battle might've been over already.

Although it was a personal letter adressed to the Empress, given that he didn't know if anyone else would lay their eyes on it, Acacius deliberately left out the any critique about the Emperor's decisions to continue Rome's expansions. But you knew your father well enough to read between the lines of his text, which gave you a glimpse about how tired he was about this war and how much it caused pain in him to kill and enslave under the banner of a reign he saw as nothing but a tyranny. You were lost in between his words and the smell of the sea mixed with the one of the papyrus in your hand, when a little squeak caught your ears and pulled you out of your thoughts. Another soft screech and you looked into the buttoned eyes of Dondus, the small pet monkey of Emperor Caracalla, who sat in his tiny tunic on the table next to you.

"I knew i'd find you here!" You didn't even need to turn your head around, to know which of the twins suddenly approached you as you were still sitting on a bench in the Palace gardens, protected by the shdaows of the trees around, but with the beautiful view of the sea right in front of you. Still you followed the etiquette and stood up to greet your brother-in-law with a bow of your head. "My Emperor,..."

"Caracalla", he corrected you, before you could even speak further. "You're part of the family now, there's no need to make it complicate, right?"

The fact that you were his brother's wife still bothered him from the very first day on. A mere thought about his brother's possession of your heart could kick off a tantrum of Caracalla at any given time, especially when he was alone in his rooms and had to face all the thoughts what Geta probably did to you, when he had you in his presence. And it was rare, very rare to get a moment with you alone, one in which you were not with Emperor Geta or accompanied by his personal guard. Those that Caracalla was the only one able to send away since the Praetorians had to follow his orders in the same way they did with his brother's. They were twin Emperors all along. And although Geta took more of the leading responsibilities, they shared the power equally at the end of the day.

You nodded in response to his offering, even if it was still an unusual practice - you weren't this close with him. Actually you thought that he had tried to avoid you for quite some time, after your wedding with his brother, which made his sudden approach even more dubious. Nonetheless you put on the mask of a dutiful Roman woman, graceful and without any falter, as your mouth curled into a smile and your hand started to crawl the head of Caracalla's pet monkey, who suddenly jumped onto your lap. "So you and Dondus have found me. Is there something i can help you with or do you just seek the company of your sister-in-law?" Caracalla's jaw clenched, even if his eyes remained open in a stare and his lips still frozen with a smile. "Maybe both", he whispered, before his hand suddenly grabbed yours, a soft gesture, a caring one combined with his following words, but you knew very well it was inappropriate.

"I know that we haven't seen each other for quite some time now and as you know Geta and i are twins - so i know my brother better than anyone. Which is, why i am more than curious to know how you're feeling now that you're his wife? Given the ... circumstances of your marriage, it was probably difficult to adjust to the court life and the duties of an Empress, with your honorable father fighting for Rome's glory somewhere in Africa Nova." His jaw clenched, when he mentioned the man he saw as nothing more than a traitor and you were well aware of that, which was why you hid your anger behind a well-crafted but forced smile.

„I know what is expected of me. And I do my duty for Rome just as my father.“

"That was not my question", Caracalla quickly shot back with an unbothered grin on his lips, while he was slowly leaning closer to you. Your eyes didn't left him as you watched intensely what he did, while you could already feel his breath on your skin. There was a danger radiating from him, a twisted combination out of friendly words and ulterior motives you weren't able to grasp. An inappropriate chuckle escaped his lips out of a sudden, as if he had done enough to hide it. "Is he not capable to satisfy his Empress?"

Your eyes widened and your lips parted, trying to say something, but no words came from them, shocked by the misguided question. Why, by the gods, did he ask such a thing!? Slowly, you gathered your thoughts again, as you tried your best to not show any emotions that would give off how uneasy you felt. But it didn't help that his hand crept further, as he reached out with his fingertips to trace the exposed skin of your arm. A gesture that caused a shiver running down you spine. It was as if he suddenly felt a sense of boldness, knowing that both of you were alone – even though you were not.

"I don't think that you would like me to tell you how your dear brother takes his pleasure from his wife". The words came from your lips like a confession, while you slowly gained conciousness about his goal. "Isn't it so? When we were at the amphitheater back then, you told me that you see yourself as Nero... and on my weddingday, you presented me the crown of Empress Poppaea. It is ironic, don't you think? That we sit here in the same gardens, those two probably enjoyed themselves too?", you said without a tone-shift in your voice, before you whispered, as if you were telling him a secret. "But i don't belong to you."

Something in Caracalla's eyes shifted, while you spoke, a dark glimpse of something that was buried deep inside him. The way his fingers suddenly snaked around your wrist and pressed themselves into your skin, while his lips shuddere, gave away that it triggered him. Even though it was simply the truth, but you wanted to hear what was going on in his mind. And how to get answers better than by teasing Caracalla in a way his lips would instantly react faster than his brain.

"Soon, i promise!", his voice a muddled with promise, plea and anger. "My brother doesn't deserve to have you", he hissed in a low tone, while his face was close to yours as if he was just a short distance away from simply kissing your lips. It took you a lot to not slip from his grip to escape this madness. Geta was cruel, but Caracalla was insane and you were trapped with their tantrums from the second they'd layed their eyes on you. "He never deserved you, not you, not the Empire, all of this. I do. I do. Don't tell me that you've never thought about it, i know that you do-"

"We shouldn't-"

"Don't deny it! We both know that it is fate that brought us together – that brought us here. It is just another sign that we're here together, like Nero and his love." His voice became louder and almost cracked in his anticipation, while his grip on your wrist was so tight, it started to hurt you. But it didn't seem like he would let go either. You were helpless in a situation like this as every word you said, seemed to make it even worse as he just heard what he wanted to hear. Caracalla was in his own reality, his own world, and you were his Venus, his goddess, the pinnacle of his unrestrained desire.

"Caracalla, please. My Emperor, you need to calm down", you tried it with a soft tone shift, your free hand slowly reaching for his scarred pale cheek. The scars testaments of his mental state as he scratched himself, whenever he had a nervous outburst. If he would voice this nonesense even louder, it might alert someone and you knew that it might get yourself in danger too. The Emperors were untouchable, but you...? Geta were able to punish you, if he would hear this conversation – even though you didn't even wished for the attention of his brother, it wouldn't matter.

Your voice, your touch, whatever it was, it shifted Caracalla's mood. He calmed down like a puppy, who melted under the way your filigran fingers ran over his cheek. His cold-blue eyes still stared at you, but it was almost as if he feared he said something wrong. It was the very first time you experienced firsthand how much power you actually hold over a man, who could easily order your murder. The young Emperor leaned into your touch and suddenly nodded softly. "I- i am sorry, i didn't...– i didn't want to scream at you. It was just- no, there is no excuse, please, you need to forgive me–"

You took your time with him even though there were so many thoughts echoing in your mind, how you were trapped in a seemingly never ending tragedy with no way out. However with Caracalla, you might get a chance to play your own little game... so you used this opportunity. "I already did, no need to worry, Caracalla", you whispered in an encouraging tone, taking away all his fears with just a few words. "But you should go now, Dondus seems to need some rest. And we will meet again for dinner, right?"

Indeed, Dondus, Caracalla's little pet monkey, had already laid down on the table, resting in the shadows of the olive trees. A sad shimmer appeared on Caracalla's face, when he got up. But he didn't leave you without. taking your hand for a moment and placing a kiss on your knuckles. He didn't said a word after this, while he simply took Dondus up his arms and walked off. Silence, it was even stronger than any word now, while your eyes went to your wrists, where he had grabbed you out of desperation. He was pathetic, insane – yet he could become a tool to find a way out of here. Maybe you became to ambitious in this very moment.

----

"Did you enjoy the moment with my wife", Geta's voice hit Caracalla like a dagger in the chest as he walked down the aisle, which lead from the gardens back to the palace rooms. He stopped instantly and turned his head around only to see his twin standing there in his lavish robes and the golden laurel wreath on his short gingerblonde hair. For a second, Caracalla almost favored the thought of simply leaving by ignoring those provocative words. But the accusation between the lines, grabbed his mind and basically forced a reaction from him.

"I just talked with her. Am i not allowed to do this, brother? She seemed lonely."

"Ah yeah, lonely?" Geta simply recalled Caracalla's words, while he did a few steps into his direction, stopping right in front of him as his face turned moe and more red. Not because of embarrassment, it was clear that his twin hated to be mocked like this, although the tease was not completely without a reason.

"And you really didn't thought about anything else as you were just accompaning my 'lonely' wife? Don't fool me, brother, i know you since we've shared our mother's womb."

"Is this an accusation?", Caracalla hissed, his fists clenching together. Even Dondus on his shoulder sensed the emotions that cooked up in his owner, screatching in response. What was Geta playing here?

"An offering."

An offering? Caracalla's eyes stared at Geta for a long minute, visibly trying to make sense of his words. It sounded like a test, like a tease, but nothing in his twin's face changed, while he looked at him with a smile that was too genuine for a moment like this.

"You wouldn't like to fuck her, don't you?"

"Stop playing with me!? Why are you doing this!? What should all of that mean!?", Caracalla complained almost like a child, who was bullied by an older kid.

Geta suddenly sighed – as if he was even annoyed by the way his brother reacted to him and this only fueled Caracalla's anger even more. His hand ran through his gingerblonde hair, while his sky-blue eyes were still locked with his smaller twin, since Geta towered him in height. Slowly, he leaned towards Caracalla's ear and finally revealed, what he was thinking in more clearer words. And they revealed a twisted idea that had grew in his mind from the very first moment he'd seen his brother's interest in you.

"If you would like to get a taste of my wife, i will allow it. I couldn't deny my dearest brother a wish like this, because i understand how easily she put a spell on you like a siren. But–" he paused intentionally to give his words even more weight as he spoke out the condition for such a 'trade'. "Since she is my wife, i want to watch what you're doing with her." Caracalla's eyes widened more and more in response to his offering. An internal fight enrupted in him between the hunger that already burned for you and the shame he would feel to put you in a situation like that.

Whoever thought that Caracalla was the only lunatic of the twin emperors had never seen what Geta was really capable of. He just usually did induldge in his 'fun' behind closed doors. Even before he even met you, Geta enjoyed the brutality of the arena fights just as he enjoyed the wild orgies hosted in the Emperor's palace. It were those orgies with tons of whores and slaves, where he not only developed a love for dominating others, but he also formed a voyeristic lust. Seeing others exposing themselves in front of him and losing themselves in the heat of the act was like a painting for his eyes. He shared a lot with his brother, even their concubines – so why shouldn't he share you as well? As long as you were officially his, bound to him and only him in front of the gods, that was the only thing he needed.

"So... what do you say, Caracalla?"

____________________________

Tags:

quuinyoung koshkahhh mmkkzz analves pandora-journey ange-olras tellynojelly targwh0re h3k3t onelemonoat whitenoise808 spooky-cupid dev1lbella onelemonoat hawraa-alzubaidi omg-hellgirl the-holy-pigeon justnobodynothingmore fandomblogs-stuff justnobodynothingmore superblyspeedydragon deliciousfestsalad moon-390 lv9su harmfulb1tch apollonshootafar zalera8310 sweetffcts lvspedri soltik capitanostella weepingfashionwritingplaid labellapeaky @qardasngan @fallout-girl219 @chaand-sitara @eighttens @riddlerloveb0t @nicksolemnlyswears @myotakureprieve @lovely--lover @idiotsatan @mqrrstarr @eclypsosworld @happythingtiger @a-lovers-card @fandom-princess-forevermore @theamandaaashow @themoonofthesun @an34l @sunny0jinkies @thatgirl444555 @malfoycassimalfoy @victoria-rue @hikohyuuga @heavengirls111 @prestinalove @jakesullyswhore @boywivlove @mystical1wonderland

[hyuckhyukahansol]

Hold On, We're Going Home

────────────

"you don't even notice the click of him locking the door while he turns the lights off before he curls up behind you, chest to your back as he wraps his arms around you slowly. sensually. mark's breath fans on the back of your neck before he plants several slow kisses there, moving until he reaches right below the shell of your ear. all the while, his large, warm hands can't seem to to anything other than wander under your hoodie to caress your waist and stomach. you let out a breathy and quiet chuckle.

"babe, what are you doing?" you ask in a whisper.

"you know you're mine, right?" mark whispers into your ear, completely ignoring the question, yet answering it at the same time.

your skin heats all too quickly. you know exactly what this is. he's jealous. of what, you're really not sure.”

or

you're a popular soloist and your secret boyfriend is a kpop idol. when your Canadian tour dates line up, you both opt to stay at his parent's home in Vancouver, but even with his parents asleep downstairs, mark just can't seem to keep his hands off of you after your show.

tags -ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈  idol!mark, soloist!reader, fem!reader, reader is american, porn with minimal plot, established relationship, childhood room, twin bed, missionary, jealousy, possessiveness, praise AND degradation, mentions of reader being small, ATTEMPTED quiet sex, sacrilege if you squint (theres a jesus on his wall), size kink if u squint, marks parents are mentioned but theres no dialogue with them because im not writing that, reader has her drivers license, implied that reader is not christian, reader's love language is being mean to mark, EXTREMELY unserious

nicknames ┇ his babe yours princess!! baby... etc

date started┇march 20 2025

date posted ┇march 28 2025

wc ┇4.4k

A/Ns ┇ nothing like a good "lets fuck on my childhood bed!" 

room based on the mark's homecoming teasers for firstfruit.

umm mark probably doesnt have a childhood bedroom in canada because he was like 13 when he left for sm and also he lived in new york before that so lets just pretend for the sake of the fanfic that he does ok? ok! >_<

in section 2 i mention bible study as a way for me to skate around actually writing meeting marks parents LMFAOOO um im unsure if this is a popular thing everywhere else but like i know in the south at least its like youth group but for older people where they'll have a like mini religion discussion thing? i dont know i havent been to church in several years and i'm atheist 😭 iykyk i guess

reader's dialogue is based off of me and im a very strange fella and i cannot be serious for one single second so its kind of bad 😭

FINAL NOTE im completely a virgin like ive never even kissed anyone LMFAO so if the smut seems inaccurate at all thats on me because i refuse to let a real obtainable man get that close to me 😆

────────────

𐔌 ﹒ ⋆ ꩜ ⋆ 𓂃 ₊ ⊹

01. prologue

"no way our tour dates line up." 

you were in disbelief when your boyfriend called late at night to inform you that you would both be in the same city at the same time and that it just so happened to be where his parents lived: vancouver.

you were tucked under your warm, plush duvet with an unnecessary amount of pillows under your head and you groan as you sit up from them, cold air hitting your newly exposed skin, leaving goosebumps in its chilly wake.

"i'm serious dude, the company usually lets me visit my family when we go for canadian stops. i could see if i can stay at my parent's house for longer.. and you could come with me.." mark's voice got higher as he started adding to the equation. "and maybe you can stay.. and meet some people.."

"you're saying you want me to meet your parents?" you reply blankly, holding in a laugh at your boyfriend's shyness about asking. you lean back in your bed, cotton fabric sighing with effort.

"see? that's my girl, i knew you'd get it." your face heats at his words.

"oh dude you're flirting..." you quote him, earning a sound of annoyance from the other end of the call. you snicker.

"you actually have to stop watching those fan compilations." you giggle at how easily it both annoys and embarrasses him that you keep up with what he does at work.

"okay, i'll stop watching fan compilations of you when you delete your folder of edits of me" you offer jokingly through your fit of laughter.

he scoffs "that's out of the question." 

"okay then i guess i get to keep watching videos of you goofing off at work." 

𐔌 ﹒ ⋆ ꩜ ⋆ 𓂃 ₊ ⊹

02. the twin bed

several months ago, your boyfriend had asked you to meet his parents in person. both of you living in seoul and being music artists meant that trips home were few and far between, so it made sense that mark would ask you to meet his parents in real life once the finally opportunity arose after two years of only seeing them in 2160p on a facetime screen. mark would've asked sooner if he weren't swamped with schedules — between three groups and solo activities, it was near impossible to find any amount of time to fly home, let alone with a secret girlfriend who's schedule was just as packed as his.

both of your tours had already started and you really hadn't seen much of each other since. you were grateful for the large amount of time you had in vancouver: about three nights of time together before you'd each have to take your separate flights to different cities for the rest of your respective tours. you had your show the first night of the three-day stay and his was the night directly after. 

mark had taken a plane with the rest of 127 and you opted to take a completely different flight; it wasn't worth the trouble of having to deal with both of your own saesangs on one flight as well as risking being caught. since mark's plane departed earlier than yours, he arrived at his parent's house much earlier than you, having already unpacked what he needed and started catching up with his folks when you rang the doorbell on the single-family home. as you were marveling at the normalcy of the house, your boyfriend swung the door open, giving you a hug and kiss on the cheek.

"did your staff already leave?" mark asked after surveying the street outside and not finding any cars. you turn and look back over your shoulder quickly even though you know you won't find a car there either.

"yeah, dropped me off and then sped away." you answer as you step inside. mark closes and locks the door behind you. 

"well, after she got out of the passenger seat because i begged her to let me drive-"

"you drove?" your boyfriend cut you off, eyes wide and eyebrows raised so high that his forehead was wrinkled.

"pfft, yeah?" you roll your eyes dramatically.

"i have my license and i'm a big girl. got here in one piece and everything." you reassure the man as he takes your suitcase and carryon from you.

"dude, you have an american drivers license."

"ooookay? it's basically the same! y'all drive on the right side of the road too.." you playfully push mark's shoulder, pouting as you continue.

"i never get to drive in korea. can't drive on the right there." you switch from a playful pout to a curious expression. "where are mother lee and father lee?" you ask, using your favorite nicknames that his parents thought were so endearing and silly. mark chuckles before answering.

"they're at wednesday bible study, so we have some time to unwind before you have to mingle with anyone other than me." mark explains, walking towards to stairs that lead to the second floor of the house. "my room is upstairs. it hasn't been redecorated since i was, like, 13." 

"oh, how fun." you joke, beginning to walk up the stairs with your boyfriend following behind you. "can't wait to see all the.. um.." after a long pause, you stop at the top of the stairs and turn to face him. "i can't finish my insult because i have no clue what little canadian boys like."

mark laughs and you're sure if his hands weren't full he would start hitting you in his fit of laughter like he usually does, but instead he hunches over a little at the joke before directing you to the last door on your right. 

the room is small and littered with old books, cd cases, and cassette tapes, all lined up haphazardly on painted wooden shelves that were much taller than you, the freshest layer of brown paint peeling in worn spots to reveal the previous paint job done in teal. in the left corner, against the flaky yellow wallpaper, sat a red guitar and in the right corner there was a boombox on a shelf above a bed. on the right wall was a crucifix and ivory jesus stared down at the bed below it with its mismatched plaid duvet and sheets and more pillows than any one boy needs, all with different pillowcases on them, one checkered blue, another white with blue stripes, the other two in solid teal and red. it was cozy, but something irked you and it wasn't the carpeted floor or the popcorn ceiling.

"you didn't tell me it was a twin bed?" you exclaim, turning to mark who looked like he'd just seen a ghost. he makes his way past you into the room, speaking as he sets your bags on the beg and sits next to them.

"yo, listen: you can have the bed to yourself and i can have the floor if it makes you feel better" mark offers, trying to soothe you. you're still stood in the doorway, leaning against it now.

"i dont want your funky ass twin bed? id rather sleep on the cold kitchen floor downstairs." you complain, frustrated at the entire situation. "I don't want to sleep without you but also I'm not sure we'll both fit comfortably." you express. your boyfriend looks at you funny. 

"are you serious?" he starts, getting up from the bed and walking towards you, stopping when he's stood just close enough that you have to look up to meet his eye. "there's definitely enough room. we'll just have to cuddle." he explains. you look up at him through long lashes and pout. 

"i'm starting to think the reason you didn't tell me is because you just wanted an excuse to hold me all night." you accuse. mark holds his hands up in a way that says 'you got me.'

"well, usually you complain that i'm too warm and you end up moving away from me after i fall asleep." mark admits with a slight frown, dropping his hands to his side in order to hang his shoulders in an attempt to sulk. he looks so cute when he pouts, large dark eyes shining at you with a hint of an apology for withholding information. you push yourself off of the door frame in favor of draping your arms on mark's shoulders, fingers touching around the back of his neck.

"okay, but you do get super warm and you know i run hot too." you defend yourself. mark pits his hands on either side of your waist and cracks a smirk and you know he's thinking of a terrible joke.

"yeah, super hot." 

"ew, that's so corny." you scrunch up your nose, making a disgusted face and he giggles, leaning in to pepper your cheek with kisses that you can feel the smile in.

"you're making me reconsider my option of sleeping alone." you threaten, but he only wraps his arms around you and holds you tight instead as if to say that there's no way you can back out of it now. you accept defeat.

𐔌 ﹒ ⋆ ꩜ ⋆ 𓂃 ₊ ⊹

03. the concert

mark's parents were just as kind in person as they had been over video call. they just couldn't stop telling you how you were so much prettier in person and how proud they were that mark had found "such a nice young lady." you told them how lovely their home is and thanked them for letting you stay. the meeting was brief since you had to get to your venue for sound check and other preparations, so when your staff arrived to pick you up and whisk you away to your job, you apologized and swore that you would talk more the next day, assuming they probably wouldn't be awake by the time you got back.

sound check was smooth and you enjoyed seeing your fans for the 45 or so minutes it lasted. afterwards, you had your makeup and hair done and put on your first outfit. you made sure to take ample selfies so you could choose what to post after the concert, what to send to bubble now, and what to send to mark since you had down time. 

you: [image]

markus 😒😋: my gorgeous gorgeous girl

you grin at your phone, face heating to the point you start to fan yourself. you giggle at your own incoming joke as you look through your camera roll for a video to send to your boyfriend. the video is a clip his fans like to use of him with a blush filter on his face. (you know the one)

you: [video]

markus 😒😋: yeah ok im blocking you now

you: NOOOOO ☹️ 

markus😒😋: too late. need to start being nicer to your boyfriend

you: but youre so cute when youre annoyed..

markus😒😋: your fans are like really loud by the way

you: ???

markus😒😋: [2 images]

markus😒😋: your number 1 fan

the images mark sends you are one of the stage you're supposed to be on in about an hour and the other is selfie of him, mask hat, and glasses on, in a seat at your venue.

you'd attended each other's concerts before and it certainly wasn't a secret to either of your fans that the two of you knew each other, having done challenges, tiktoks, and other collabs together, but it still would give you butterflies when he would show up to a concert. 

you: 🥹 i told you if you would tell me beforehand that you were coming then you wouldn't have to actually buy tickets

markus 😒😋: its no fun when you know already!!! 

you: next time get floor tickets so i can have eye candy in the crowd

markus 😒😋: yes ma'am 🫡

the concert went super well. you were on time and your mic was loud enough for once and your costume wasn't itchy and your boyfriend was in the crowd. you were sure multistans had already spotted him there and you hoped that he was having a good time and that everyone was leaving him alone.

during the section of the concert where you walk around and sing into a handheld mic and do fan service, you spot a particularly funny sign. the sign, which was decked out in glittery letters and lots of hearts read: "y/n let me get that nda"

you double over in laughter as the back track plays without main vocals before continuing singing, going over to the fanboy holding the sign and taking his phone to record with it. the fan all but faints when you hand his phone back and blow him a kiss. when the song ends you talk for a bit about your tour so far and read other signs, flirting with your fans (as one does) and drinking water to soothe your throat. you don't particularly even think about what you're doing as you interact with the crowd, simply happy to see them smile.

the rest of your concert goes smoothly and you stay for around 30 minutes after everyone clears out in order to help your staff pack equipment and to make sure you didn't forget anything personal at backstage. when you're changed into a hoodie and some sweats and sitting in the passenger seat of your staff's car, you notice mark hasn't texted you, which is weird. mark always texts you after a concert even if you're going back to the same apartment. you assume maybe his phone died when you shoot him a "how was it?" text and he doesn't respond. you're really too exhausted to think of anything else as the road lulls you into a quick nap as you're driven to your boyfriend's parent's house.

𐔌 ﹒ ⋆ ꩜ ⋆ 𓂃 ₊ ⊹

04. jealousy, jealousy 

mark's parents are asleep when you get back to their home, making for a silent house other than the whirring of the air conditioning and the click of you locking the front door. your boyfriend greets you as you walk through said door with a kiss on the cheek. you take in his already scruffy hair and pajama clad legs as well as the loose t-shirt he obviously just threw on.

"did your phone die?" you ask, worried as to why he didn't respond to you.

"yeah" he rubs one of his eyes with the back of his hand "man, um, traffic was crazy, i only just got here and changed."

mark hasn't been this awkward with you since the first few months you started dating. there's obviously something bothering him but you really don't know how to ask, especially when it's so late and you're still tired despite your nap. 

"yeah, i didn't actually drive back so i was able to take a power nap through it." you reply. mark simply hums and turns around, walking to and up the stairs, abruptly deciding he's done with the conversation. you follow him, face twisted in mouth opened, furrowed-brow confusion whenever he had his back to you. mark lingers by the doorway in his room as you pass him to flop down dramatically on the bed, facing the wall, only bothering to kick off your shoes and socks. you don't even notice the click of him locking the door while he turns the lights off before he curls up behind you, chest to your back as he wraps his arms around you slowly. sensually. mark's breath fans on the back of your neck before he plants several slow kisses there, moving until he reaches right below the shell of your ear. all the while, his large, warm hands can't seem to to anything other than wander under your hoodie to caress your waist and stomach. you let out a breathy and quiet chuckle.

"babe, what are you doing?" you ask in a whisper.

"you know you're mine, right?" mark whispers into your ear, completely ignoring the question, yet answering it at the same time.

your skin heats all too quickly. you know exactly what this is. he's jealous. of what, you're really not sure.

your boyfriend continues to kiss around your ear, moving now to your shoulder, each kiss messier and needier than the last. one of his hands moves to cup your breast while the other sits right below your belly button, tantalizingly close to where you can feel your arousal pooling in liquid form. his pinky dips under the waistband of your sweats and stays there as he toys with your nipple, pinching the bud with two fingers, eliciting a soft whine from you to which he hisses.

"have to be quiet, baby. be quiet for me? for me?" he repeats. you breathe out a shaky "ok" as you move your arm behind you in an attempt to feel up your boyfriend, petting his side.

mark snuggles closer and you can feel his erection against your ass as he continues to massage your breast. his other hand finally dives under the waistband of your sweats, middle finger finding your clit oh so easily as he begins to almost pet you, cupping your entire mound and rocking his hands against it, middle finger pressed ever so slightly between the lips and against your bundle of nerves. you try your best to keep your whines down, your once free hand now occupied with covering your mouth. you buck embarrassingly and helplessly against mark's hand.

"desperate, huh? that why you made a show of yourself?" he coos.

you nod. of course it wasn't the truth and you both knew that. you really still weren’t sure what you even did, but your mind was too hazy to do anything except play into his hands, literally and figuratively. 

mark begins to rub circles into your clit, using the friction from your panties to add to the sensation of it. you struggle to stay quiet and when you let a particularly obscene sound slip, your boyfriend groans, pulling away from you.

"sit up, baby." he commands as he gets off the bed and drops to his knees in front of you. he runs his palms up your clothed thighs when you turn to face him.

"take this off for me, princess?" he requests.

you oblige, lifting your hips to discard your sweats, deciding your hoodie is too much and discarding that as well. you don't know when mark removed his shirt, but between him locking the door and getting on his knees, it had been tossed to the opposite corner of the room, bunched up and barely visible from the moonlight filtering through the window. 

mark pushes your legs open and slots himself between them, kissing the inside of your thigh, face oh so close to exactly where you need him. you look down at him in awe. the way his messy brown hair falls into his prettily-pink tinged face and how absolutely drunken on you he looks when his gaze flicks up to you might be enough for you to cum on the spot. you're practically throbbing for him when he finally presses a kiss to your clothed clit. your breath hitches and you let out a soft whimper at the contact.

"you still haven't exactly told me what i did.." you remind mark as his thumbs hook under the hem of your underwear. they linger there for a moment while he answers.

“i think you know."

you lift your hips once again to allow mark and to slip your panties down and toss them somewhere in the room. the air is cool against the heat of your cunt and you fight the urge to close your legs to keep in the warmth.

"so fucking gorgeous." mark mutters before rolling his tongue against your clit. you let out a loud whimper and he shushes you gently but does nothing more to stop you when he licks a fat stripe up your pussy before sucking your clit and coming off with an obscene pop that has you biting into the hand covering your mouth. he returns to it, making slow circles of it with his tongue while he inserts a finger into you, then two, pumping them in and out and curling them at an agonizingly slow place.

you whimper around your hand for a second before taking it slightly away from your mouth.

"i s-seriously don't know— hah— w-what i did, babe." you manage to get out.

mark pulls his face away from your heat, replacing his tongue with his thumb, increasing to a medium pace.

"touched other people. laughed at their jokes. just missed you so bad, princess. wished it was me.” he melts into the side of your thigh, looking up at you as he answers before focusing intently on the way his fingers move against you. the sound of his fingers inside of you fills the room with nasty squelching. his free hand has been rubbing circles into the outside of your thigh this whole time and you attempt to grab it to hold his hand when he finally speeds up a third time, going a pace that you can finally feel your orgasm building with. he swats your hand away.

"think you deserve it?" he asks

"m'sorry." you reply, opting to place the hand on his sheets instead. you can finally feel your release building and your moans get harder and harder to contain behind your hand.

"mark m'gonna cum, please" you plead with him. for what, you're not sure. 

"that's it, good girl." he coos "let it all out, princess." 

his praise is just enough to make you topple over the edge of pleasure, orgasm washing over you in waves as you let out a silent cry. mark finger-fucks you through it, not bothering to stop even when your thighs threaten to crush his head or your foot hits his back, before slowing and then finally pulling his fingers away once your clenching ceases, bringing his hand up to his mouth to lick it clean whilst you catch your breath. 

"lay down, if i don't fuck your brains out right now i'm seriously gonna lose it." your eyes widen as you reposition yourself so that you're laying on your back while mark discards his pants and underwear. he crawls over you, holding himself up on one forearm as you start making out, tongues melding against each other. he breaks from the kiss to lean back and put one of your legs over his broad shoulder. he teases you, rubbing the tip of his fat cock against your still-sensitive clit.

"nobody else can do this but me right, princess?" he asks and you can hear his breath hitch as he continues to rock himself against you. you shake your head in response.

"need it so bad mark." you plead with him, tired of the teasing and the empty feeling in your core.

mark lines himself up with your entrance and pushes in slowly, inch by inch, coupled with quiet groans. the stretch is something you're never used to no matter how many times the two of you fuck; the way he fills you is delicious.

he pauses when he's fully inside you, leaning over you, causing the leg on his shoulder to fold back on you. he kisses your neck and jaw and nibbles at your ear he pulls out until just the tip remains and thrusts back into you, causing you to let out a loud combination of a whine and a strangled groan, to which mark quickly covers your mouth with his hand. he starts slow, rocking in and out of you at a leisurely pace. his free hand that isn't muffling your noises rests beside you on the bed so that he doesn't absolutely crush you. mark makes sure not to fuck into you too hard, worried the loud sounds of skin on skin might wake his parents up. 

"think you can cover your own mouth for me?" he asks and you nod.

he pushes himself up so that his chest is no longer flush with yours and his hand is no longer covering your mouth. you hover the back of your hand over your mouth so that your voice is still audible enough for mark to hear, commanding him to go faster. you cover your mouth as he obliges, and he starts letting out soft moans. they're not nearly as loud as yours but they're so sexy that you almost can't help the way you try to roll your hips up into him in response. 

"what would all your fans think?" he says. "folded in half for my cock... all for me." he adds, starting to get lost in the feeling of your pussy pulling him in. he throws his head back and you swear you could cum from the sight right then and there. 

something snaps in mark- maybe its how close he is or how warm you are, but he stops caring about the noise and starts making pointed thrusts into you, hitting that sweet spot in you that makes your eyes roll and your back arch off the bed. the sound of his skin on yours is loud and if you weren't so fucked out then maybe you'd care, but your brain is fuzzy and your skin is tingly and the only thing you can think about is how impossibly tight the coil in your stomach is. your hand isn't enough to muffle anything anymore, your fingers keep curling and you're squirming so much that it's hard to contain any sounds you make. mark seems to have forgotten where he is because he just starts praising you like you're alone in his apartment.

"so fucking gorgeous. gonna cum, princess? yeah?" he coos.

through babbles and broken groans you manage to get out a broken "please." his thumb finds your clit and he rubs it in rough circles and you swear you're on fire. your orgasm crashes into you like a crack of lightning and you open your mouth to let out a silent scream. you squirm and kick and mark holds your hips down to fuck you through it, chasing his own orgasm all the while. he cums not too long after you with a chant of your name and a broken, choked moan as he fills you up with ropes of hot seed. your chest heaves and you honestly forget that you even exist until mark's words bring you back.

"you don't think we woke them up, right?"

────────────

A/N ┇OH GOD!!! im actually really scared i hope this isnt as bad as it seems to me i think i just dont like it because im the one who wrote it. i got a bit out of character for mark but like also who knows what hes like during sex. you dont know. i dont know. AHH! um i hope you 🫵 enjoyed it. take a shot every time i said the word you in this fanfic.

I got distracted while editing this because I had nct mvs playing in the background and 90s love came on… winwin I miss you

[onlyangel4]

better deal. damian priest.

damian priest x ex aew wrestler!reader

synopsis: when aew's brightest rising star leaves the company people are left wondering why. but then she shows up on smackdown and all questions and answered.

faceclaim: alexa demie

y/ninsta

liked by archerofinfamy, rhearipley_wwe, americannightmarecody and 783,289 others

y/ninsta: i'm posting this to let you guys know that tomorrow night will be my final show with aew, after a brilliant ten years in the company i have decide to step away. this is not the last you will be seeing of me.

view all 21,282 comments

user1: but why we all know you are the highest paid woman in the company

user2: i can't believe you are leaving the company

user3: please still wrestle you have been my favourite since your debut

user4: gonna miss you

user5: i'm actually heartbroken but i am glad you are doing what is right for you

user6: changing the username from y/n_aew has broken my heart

wwe

liked by archerofinfamy, americannightmarecody, y/ninsta and 872,333 others

tagged: archerofinfamy

wwe: nick aldis has made the talent acqusition of the century. his final transfer of the window being damian priest who will be moving to the blue brand and we can't wait to see what he will do

view all 20,112 comments

user6: they are breaking up the terror twins i could cry

user7: this is such a random move i wonder what they are gonna do with him

user8: thank god damian has finally escaped the judgement day

wweupdates posted a story

written: a girl has been spotted smoking on the balcony of the hotel that all the superstars are staying in, i can't fully work out her face but doesn't she kind of look like y/n (who just left aew)

y/ninsta posted a story

written: missed y'all

wwe

liked by y/n_wwe, reallaknight, archerofinfamy and 911,142

tagged: y/n_wwe

wwe: the secret's out y/n y/ln is now on friday night smackdown

view all 31,229 comments

user9: she left that massive deal at aew for you that makes no sense

user10: i am so fucking happy she is here

user11: THIS PROMO WAS EVERYTHING

user12: i can't wait to see what she does over in wwe

wwe_updates posted two stories

story one: damian looking gorgeous, pictured at a party last night

story two: omg y/n was also there as it was a mutual friend's birthday

y/n_wwe posted a story

written: first international smackdown date on the road to wrestlemania

archerofinfamy posted a story

written: barcelona here we come

y/n_wwe posted a story

written: time to explore

wwe_gossip posted a story

written: my sources say this is y/n and damian in barcelona, there is no proof of this but y/n's story did say she was going to explore the city

y/n_wwe

liked by rhearipley_wwe, archerofinfamy, wwe and 1,002,341 others

tagged: archerofinfamy

y/n_wwe: for the first time in 4 years we actually spent our anniversary together. happy anniversary mi amor

view all 45,982 comments

rhearipley_wwe: the secret is finally out

y/n_wwe: felt like the right time

archerinfamy: to many more years with you mi vida

y/n_wwe: you will never get rid of me

user13: omg this is why she moved to wwe

user14: the best couple in the wrestling world

user15: y'all need a third

user16: this was so unexpected but it makes so much sense

[lynzishell]

🎶Ready to Start by Arcade Fire

Prev // Next

Reference Post: 8 Years Ago

I have to give a HUGE shoutout to my dear friend @honeyjars-sims who not only helped me with the Goode Boys Gaming logo, but also with the cover art for the boys' first game: Oneironaut I am forever grateful to have such a talented and generous friend who is always willing to help me bring these little details to life!! I can't tell you how much I appreciate you, T!!! Thank you so so much!! 😭💖

Oneironaut cover art + Transcript below the cut:

SFX: Ambient bar sounds 🎶Ready to Start by Arcade Fire

The businessmen drink my blood Like the kids in art school said they would And I guess I’ll just begin again You say, “Can we still be friends?” And if I was scared, I would And if I was bored, you know I would And if I was yours, but I’m not

Asher: Yeah, I mean, you could always move to San Sequoia. I’d make you a hell of an offer to have you on my team again. Evan: It’s tempting. But, um, I think I’m gonna stay in the city for now. I’ve been seeing someone new, and I kinda want to see where it goes.

Asher: Damn. Rejecting me for some guy you barely know. That’s fucked up. Evan: [smirks] Consider it payback. Asher: [laughs] Wow. Been hanging on to that one for eight years, have you? Evan: Nah. You obviously made the right choice.

Charlee: We’ve actually been talking about moving out that way. Jensen: Yeah, I don’t know what your plans are, but if you’re looking for a developer…? Atlas: Yes, absolutely. Let’s talk next month. We have to get a few things sorted before we can start hiring people, but— Lex: [dramatic gasp] Is that THE Atlas Goode?!

Atlas: Oh my god, Lex, finally! Lex: I know, we’re late. I’m so sorry. Atlas: It’s alright. How are you? Lex: I’m good.

Lex: Congratulations! I knew you guys would kill it! Atlas: Thank you. Lex: Is Ash around? Atlas: He’s back by the bar with Evan. Will you go get them? I want to say a few words. Lex: Ooh! I’m on it.

Atlas: Alright, everyone, listen up! I fucking hate speeches, so I’m gonna make this quick.

Atlas: It was eight years ago, at that table in the corner over there, when Ash first told me about his idea for a video game and asked me to work on it with him. For me, this dream was born on that night, but for him, it was years in the making. He’d already spent countless hours building incredibly vast and detailed worlds, creating compelling characters and storylines. His passion for this project was contagious. It reminded me why I got into gaming in the first place, and it has been an honor to be a part of bringing his vision to life.

Atlas: Ash, you are the most incredible person I’ve ever met. Not a day goes by that I’m not in awe of how brilliant your mind is, and how big your heart is. And I’m so proud to stand next to you, to build this company with you, to share my life with you, and pretty soon, to raise two little gremlins with you.

Atlas: To Asher - The love of my life, the father of my children, and the genius behind Oneironaut! Everyone: [cheering]

Everyone: [cheering louder]

Asher: Can we step outside? Atlas: Sure.

Atlas: Was that too much? Asher: No, I just needed a minute. I’m starting to feel a bit sentimental, and I didn’t want to get emotional in there.

Asher: I’m gonna miss this city. And our friends. Atlas: Me too. Asher: And our family. Atlas: I know.

Asher: Promise me we’ll still come back to visit? Atlas: Of course. Why wouldn’t we?

Asher: You know why. And I get it, I can come visit any time I want, and if you choose not to join me then that’s your prerogative. But I’ll want to bring the twins with me, which means they’ll be around Ezra, and I don’t know how you’ll feel about that, but like, our kids and his are going to be cousins and I’m not going to keep them apart. There’s no detangling him from our life, and I just worry that this whole thing is going to get worse over time. Atlas: No. I won’t let that happen. Asher: How?

Atlas: Would it make you feel better if I called my old therapist to see if I can get an appointment? Asher: Yes. It would. Atlas: Good, because I already did. He’s going to get back to me on Monday. I promise I’m dealing with it. I just need a little time. Asher: Okay. Yeah, you’ve got it.

Asher: Y’know this is the spot where we had our first kiss. Atlas: I remember. Asher: That will always be the most memorable part of that night for me. Atlas: For me too.

Asher: We should probably head back inside. Atlas: Or… we could get outta here. Asher: Nice try, but we are not bailing on our own party. Atlas: Worth a shot. Asher: Come on. We don’t have many of these nights left. I don’t want to take it for granted.

Atlas: If it helps, it sounds like we won’t have to say goodbye to everyone. Jay and Charlee are thinking about moving to San Sequoia too. Asher: No shit? Atlas: Yeah, Jay’s interested in working with us, and with Charlee out there, you may be able to convince Evan to join us too. Asher: I already tried. They’re not ready to leave the city.

Atlas: Are you ready to leave the city? Asher: We haven’t lived in the city for a while. Atlas: I know, but you know what I mean. Asher: Yeah. I’m ready.

[queenpiranhadon]

╰┈➤ 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒 ꩜ .ᐟ: You and your family decide to go camping for the week. However, you discover that you aren't the only family camping in the area, encountering a boy your age at the creek by your campsite. Slight problem though... He doesn't seem to talk.

꩜ 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: No curses AU (?), f!reader (or at least implied), Toge is mute (?), reader's had to move, reader is 15, reader has two younger twin brothers, older sibling woes, flufff

꩜ 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: Toge Inumaki x Reader

𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓: ꩜

It's been a long five hours.

Especially when you're stuck in the car with your parents and your two twin little brothers, the latter of which seemed to especially enjoy screaming their heads off like the rest of the family didn't have ears attached to their heads.

And after walking for a good 30 minutes with heavy gear to find a good spot and then setting up half of the gear on your own - including wrangling your giant tent - you were exhausted.

"Hey mom - I'm just going to go down to the stream, okay? I'll be back soon." You say, poking your head into the tent where your mom was, and she nods, smiling at you.

"Go ahead, sweetheart, just don't go too far, okay?"

You roll your eyes teasingly and nod. "I won't mom, thanks!"

Making your way down the path by where you set up camp, you find the stream you noticed earlier.

The sun is only now starting to dip below the horizon, making you feel at ease as you sit down beside a tree, resting your back against it and leaning your head back to rest on its trunk, closing your eyes and you bask in the sounds of nature.

It's not silent, but it's quiet, a soothing quiet that lets your mind relax further and further and you relish in the feeling of being alone.

Snap!

Jolting up, your head whips around, searching for the source of the sound until your eyes come into contact with a pair of wide violet ones.

"O-Oh!" you say, surprised. "H-Hi."

It comes out a little more awkward than you intended, but you can't help but stare at the boy across the stream, with pretty white hair and a thick black hoodie on, and you can't help but wonder if he's sweating underneath.

He doesn't say anything, but there's no animosity, as he smiles as waves.

You smile back, and pat the ground next to you, offering a spot under the tree by your side.

The boy turns his head for a minute, looking back at the way he probably had come from, before cautiously stepping on the rocks, making his way over to you.

He plops down next to you, and points to the sky.

You smile. "Pretty, isn't it? It's been a while since I've seen a sky like this. We're from the city, so it's usually just really cloudy. Where are you from?"

The boy thinks, before leaning away momentarily to grab a stick, starting to write out letters in the sand.

"Hm? Oh!" You exclaim in understanding, leaning forward to see what he's written.

Watching as he carefully traces out letters in the dirt, you watching him form out the phrase “I’m from the city too.”

You look at him, surprised. "You are? Are you by Tokyo? That's where I'm from!"

The boy smiles and nods excitedly, quickening writing more in the dirt. "I go to school there!"

You grin, before you cover your mouth on surprise. "Oh god- I didn't even ask what your name was!" You exclaim, giving him your name with an embarrassed look on your face.

The boy laughs, and you feel your cheeks heat up a little. Who knew someone's laugh could be so...refreshing?

Writing in the dirt some more, you see him spell out "Toge Inumaki" , before circling the former of the two words.

You smile widely. "That's such a cool name! I'm assuming you want me to call you Toge?"

The white haired boy nods and you sigh happily, resting your head on the bark of the tree.

Being with Toge was a breath of fresh air. He was quiet, and frankly, you liked quiet. No, at this point you craved it. It was nice, being able to have the space to be able hear your own thoughts, while being in the company of someone else.

You and Toge would hang out everyday for the rest of the week, and you learned a lot about each other.

You learned that he was just a year older than you- 16. He loved tuna mayo onigiri - something you've never had before but were more than excited to try. Toge was a little offended when you had told him thought - drawing the biggest "x" in the dirt that he could and a small angry face right beside it.

It was Thursday, when you and Toge decided to sit by the stream for a bit, your fingertips lightly grazing the water's surface as you relishing in the slightly cold sting of the mild current caused by the rocks along its path.

Suddenly, you feel a tap on your shoulder, turning your head to see Toge writing something in the dirt.

"Do you think I'm weird because I can't talk?"

Your eyes widen in shock as your shake your head vehemently immediately, with such a sad look on your face that Toge feels a little guilty for asking in the first place.

"No of course not!" you exclaim, and you take his hands in yours. "Toge, I've known you for a total of four days and somehow I prefer your company more than some of the people I've known for years." You say, laughing despite the irony.

You sigh. "I have two little brothers - combined with living in the city, it's always so... loud." You smile at him.

"I can actually hear my thoughts for once whenever I'm around you." you say sincerely, and you can see the tips of Toge's ears take on a light pink tint. "I don't think you're weird for not being able to speak Toge. I'm more than happy with the you I have with me right now."

Toge grins back at you, a genuine, heartfelt smile, and you feel your heart flutter a little.

He brings his hands up, hooking his two index fingers interlocking them in a sort of sign.

You stare back at him, confused, as realization dawns upon him in his eyes, grabbing the stick to write out a word.

"Friend."

You feel your cheeks heat up and you smile. You're not sure what this feeling is, but you don't necessarily hate it. The feeling on something new.

"Forever?" you ask, feeling suddenly a little shy, but Toge nods, the smile almost permanently stuck on his face.

Forever.

A/N: The things this episode did to me oml

𝚝𝚊𝚐𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝: @tootiecakes234 @gina239 @its-liberty-frazblair @lilyadora @callmeanythingyouwant00

@milkm4nz @lightsgore @skaiblu-e @that-one-lightskin @hahajsphaha

@beaniesayshi @abinformyobsessions @sharycatx3 @meddykip @riririr11

@ladygojooo @abyzissupersleepy @lilaccmilk @anime2006

[allwaswell16]

A fic rec of One Direction fics in which a character struggles to say "I love you" and shows their feelings in other ways as requested by @enchantedlandcoffee <3 If you enjoy the fics, please leave kudos and comments for the writers! You can find my other recs here. Happy reading!

- Louis / Harry -

💛 This Multiplicity of Powers by @helloamhere

(E, 149k, superheroes) Maybe there’s a universe where he doesn’t have to keep all his secrets on the inside. But this isn’t that universe. //an X-Men AU.

💛 Gemma's Dad (Could Use A Guy Like Me) by @lululawrence

(NR, 83k, age difference) Louis wasn't planning on getting home and learning that Gemma's dad had gotten the house in the divorce and was dealing with things by focusing on work, the house, and his newly planted garden. It becomes obvious early on that Harry is a bit lost. Louis is more than happy to help Harry find himself again.

💛 You are a lovely adjective, no word ever enough by @angelichl

(M, 56k, ptsd) The hurt/comfort AU in which Harry leaves away an abusive relationship, and Louis offers to share his flat.

💛 Chasing, Searching, Dreaming by @parmahamlarrie

(E, 46k, friends to lovers) Harry has known who his soulmate is since he was twenty years old, and ever since, he has been waiting for Louis to be ready for him. The unexpected passing of Louis' mum, and the fact that now he is the guardian of his twin two-year-old little siblings, just means that Harry is going to have to wait a bit longer.

💛 Let Me Down Slowly by Rearviewdreamer / @all-these-larrythings

(NR, 39k, established relationship) When you’ve been let down by people as much as Louis has, falling in love can be hard, but not quite as hard as letting someone in and trusting that goodbye won’t break you.

💛 You're the Light (series) by @allwaswell16

(E, 39k, newspaper) Before beginning a new graduate school in the fall, Louis Tomlinson decides to spend the summer working in Chicago as an editor’s assistant for the Chicago Tribune newspaper. What he finds on his first day of work is a tall, gorgeous editor named Harry who also happens to be his new boss.

💛 Fall At My Door by @kingsofeverything

(E, 29k, fwb) A-list actor Harry Styles and award-winning musician Louis Tomlinson have an acquaintances-with-benefits relationship, so whenever their busy professional lives happen to land them in the same city, they meet up. It’s a mutually beneficial arrangement.

💛 One Minute to Midnight by QuickedWeen / @becomeawendybird

(E, 29k, curses) Everything is going well until the day after Louis gets promoted when he wakes up forty years older than his actual age. Two years later he's adapted to his new life as a retiree, but he's lonely and desperate for company closer to his real age during the rigorous holiday party season

💛 the evenness i fake by @shimmeringevil

(E, 26k, omegaverse) Harry has a perfectly enjoyable friends-with-benefits agreement with a perfectly lovely omega, and he doesn’t see the need to change that anytime soon. The small fact that Louis giving his attention to another alpha makes Harry want to put his head through a wall isn’t nearly as much of an issue as everyone’s making it out to be.

💛 Saw It In Your Eyes by @taggiecb

(E, 15k, roommates) It doesn’t bother him at all that his new roommate is gay. In fact, they get along so well that they have formed an extremely close friendship that takes up pretty much all his free time. When Louis starts bringing a new guy home with him, Harry is surprised by how much it bothers him.

💛 The Orchards of Jessop by @jaerie

(E, 15k, age difference) Louis hadn’t thought retiring before he reached 30 and moving to the countryside would mean that he’d be doing it alone. Now, just to fill the space, he welcomes lodgers into his home that pass through working as temporary labourers at the orchards just up the road. 

💛 Captain Cupid by @2tiedships2

(NR, 15k, friends to lovers) the one where Niall enlists his friends to help start a speed dating side hustle. Things don't go as planned... or maybe they do?

💛 Almost Misheard by @tommokat

(T, 6k, friends to lovers) “You also said you were almost out of toothpaste but kept forgetting to get more. And I needed more floss so I was already over in that aisle.”

💛 I Want You to Linger by @insightfulinsomniac

(E, 6k, alpha nesting) A friends-to-lovers fic in which oblivious alpha Louis courts his best friend, nests with the gifts he gets him, and is faced with the reality that sometimes telling someone you love them doesn’t go to plan (but turns out better in the end anyway).

💛 No More Running by evelynemesis / @evenise

(E, 5k, fwb) He's sure he saw it when for the first time, two nights ago, Harry asked him to stay.

💛 my favourite colour is you by velvetnoodle

(M, 2k, friends to lovers) Harry would scoff whenever the people closest to them would question their lack of an actual relationship, because the idea of the two of them being anything more than friends is the most preposterous thing he can think of.

- Rare Pairs -

💛 It’s a Craving Not a Crush by LetTheMusicMoveYou / @letthemusicmoveyou28

(E, 9k, Liam/Louis) the one where Liam and Louis are best bros who end up getting married so that Liam has the insurance he needs to go to rehab. Now that he’s sober, they can get divorced. But do they want to?

[missnightshade]

❝ IN BETWEEN ❞

Agatha Harkness x Reader

Requested: Yes.

Summary: Wanda Maximoff's younger sister seems to have no place in the hex besides Agatha’s side.

Warnings: Fluffy; a bit of angst. My poor writing. I love Wanda but needed to portrait her like this for the plot. English not being my first language.

Word count: 1.2K.

Y/N Maximoff was a delight. A lively, powerful, rebellious, and carefree creature that echoed as someone so different from her older siblings. At least, that was the image Agatha Harkness had of her since the first time stepping into Wanda's made-up reality. A sweet little thing, ready to be made hers.

The younger witch didn't have a coherent part into that small city her sister held captive. Pietro has been dead for years, and even with Agatha’s poor casting of someone in his place, the Scarlett Witch held more care in her eyes for him than to Y/N. Her real and alive little sister. Agatha felt the need to protect you. To gather you into her own arms and never let go.

"Hey, Agnes. What's up?" The sweet voice of the youngest Maximoff elated her as Agatha stood by Wanda and Vision's door with a bottle of wine and what looked like a food container.

"Heard the Maximoffs were out and about. I decided to pay my favorite girl a visit." She stepped in, not caring to be invited. "Who in their right mind would leave such a pretty pet alone?"

Y/N's laugh scaped as her hand pushed the door closed. Agnes was the only happiness the move to Westview brought her. Yet, she couldn’t bring herrself to remember why she had decided to live with Wanda.

"I think you're the only one who thinks that way, Aggy."

The Maximoff's body flopped down on the couch as Agatha roamed around the kitchen she's been in many times before. Now, with the late nineties aesthetic, it felt easier to find what she needed to open the bottle.

"Why do you think so, dear?", Agnes asked, waltzing back into the living room with two glasses of red wine.

She reached for one, eyes now dedicated to gaze at the company for the night. "Oh, you know." Y/N moved her hand gently around her, and Agatha could swear whips of magic erupted from them in frustration. "Wanda is out with Vision, the boys and Pietro. The Maximoff's outing. Yet, here I am. Barely part of the family."

As Y/N grumbled, sipping the wine, Agatha smiled against the rim of her own glass, mind rapidly working.

"Oh, sweet girl. They love you. You know that. Wanda would never choose to leave you behind."

Her words seemed to wake something inside Y/N’s mind. As her eyes locked into Agnes', the young witch frowned, memories of Sokovia and the Maximoff twins leaving their younger sister in the hands of Hydra agents after fleeing. The puzzle pieces of memories also had the smell of burned cookies in the Avengers compound and Wanda grieving in the arms of a robot while Y/N suffered alone.

But just as they came, a stronger power pushed them out.

"Y/N?" She looked at Agnes."Where did you go?"

"Uhm..." She tried piercing things together, but her mind felt blank. "What were we talking about?"

"Wanda?"

"Oh, right." she sipped on the wine again. "You're right. She wouldn't choose that."

The happiness in your voice made Agatha’s stomach hurt. She thought for a moment that something inside you had remembered.

"Yes, sweetie. She wouldn't."

Agatha's inside twisted and turned. That precious girl, with the most mesmerizing eyes and bright personality was just another refugee of the excuse of a Scarlett Witch that was being written.

She scoffed at the thought, bitterness seeping from her mouth. The sound made Y/N look at her, the thick alcohol sliding down her throat. Her gaze was questioning, but Harkness' eyes were fixed on the movements she did to swallow. For a moment, as Agatha tried to look up at her eyes, a ghost of necessity lingered above her shoulders.

Y/N smiled then, and for the first time since meeting the younger Maximoff, she felt obsessed.

( . . . )

That feeling didn't vanish... or even subsided. In fact, it only grew stronger.

Agatha would stop by the Maximoff's home every day to bring the girl a sense of comfort and, almost always, she would be alone, playing the part of the perfect, quiet sister that hardly ever made Wanda lose her mind. Forgotten. Misplaced. A secondary part that no one actually cared about.

But Agatha did. And Agnes was always there.

There were many reasons as to why she wanted to play along Wanda's game. To pursue her. To enlighten her. To...steal her. But when looking at Y/N, all of that seemed so small in comparison. And even inside that wrecked reality of Wanda's, somehow, Y/N had enough of free will to choose to fall in love with Agnes.

"Argh, i wanna cry." Y/N cried out in another wine date. In Agnes' home, the effect of Wanda was not so overwhelming. The woman could, actually, feel something real.

"Cry? Why?" Agatha questioned, trying to reach for her. The space between them grew smaller by the time they saw each other. Now, on the same couch, Agnes' hands were stopped by Y/N, who quietly guided them to both sides of her face. The vulnerability on her irises pained Agatha as her thumbs caressed Y/N's cheeks. "Darling, what's it? Tell me."

Y/N closed her eyes, pouting as if she was really fighting the urge to cry. Maybe devouring two bottles of wine by her side wasn't a good idea.

"It's just..." She mumbled, only opening her eyes when Agatha held her a bit closer, almost touching their noses. Y/N felt as if she couldn't breathe. Her entire world crumbled when looking at Agnes like that. "You're so pretty, Aggy. And you're always here for me. And...and when you are this close, I feel like the only thing I want in this world..." She breathed out in a full smeared sentence. "Is to have you all to myself."

Agatha's digitals tingled with the need to sink her fingers and merge her skin with Y/N's. In all the centuries of her life, not once the sensation of such primal need crumbled the ever so calculatedly built walls of her existence. She eyed her with confusion, but then, with love. Y/N didn't need a second time to wonder what that meant when her lips crashed down onto hers. The sweet kiss was firstly a mere touch, but when the Maximoff's insides twisted and her fingers slid against the ones on her face, Agatha pulled her closer. There was an almost bestial growl that scaped the older woman, but her fingers gently stroke the other, bringing her in.

When they parted, their foreheads touched. Agatha had a smile that could light up the whole city of Westview. Y/N saw it up close, laughing slightly as she pressed the tip of her nose against Agnes'.

"Are you laughing at me, Dove?"

The nickname made Y/N raise an eyebrow, but that didn't stop her hand from cupping the nape of Agatha’s head, nails slightly running against it.

"I'm laughing with you." She answered, pecking Agatha's lips again. "I thought it would take you longer to kiss me."

"Were you betting how long i would take?"

"I was actually betting on how long I would take lose my patience. "

"If you knew I also liked you, why didn't you take the lead, Dove?" Agatha's hand took a strand of Y/N hair into her hands, twisting it. "Are you that stubborn.

"Don't you know me?"

Agatha laughed as she gazed at Y/N. There was a lot she didn't actually know about her, but she was okay to find out. Preferably outside her sister's influence, a problem the witch would have to figure out how to deal now. One thing she was sure: no matter what, she wouldn't let Wanda take you apart.

[ohalleyrose]

mine · @rosekillermicrofic · rosekiller · wc: 930 · implicit NSFW and violence

Barty knew everything about him. He knew his address, what he did for a living and what people he surrounded himself with. He knew he had moved to a flat on the outskirts of the city after breaking up with his ex-boyfriend, that he had studied business with no vocation —so he went from job to job without ever settling down— and that his best friends were Regulus and his twin sister, Pandora. He knew they met up at The Raven after work and that he sometimes stayed at the pub even after Regulus and Pandora had returned home. He had seen him take one-night stands back to his flat. How did he know they weren't serious relationships, one may wonder. Well, every night he fucked a different man and they always left only a few hours later.

He also knew he regularly took a wide variety of drugs —he suspected that was why his ex-partner had broken up with him and why his previous relationships hadn’t lasted more than a few months. He knew he was addicted to black coffee and that sometimes he would pour a shot of whisky into it and that he was into horror films, existentialist writers and indie rock.

The most logical conclusion to reach would be that this information had been provided by Pandora, the friend they had in common. However, that didn't suit Barty, who preferred to stalk his social media and follow him on the sly wherever he went. He was still thinking about how to get into his flat without getting caught, though.

That's why when Barty Crouch Sr. showed him the CV on his computer screen, he was surprised. Evan Rosier was looking for a job at his father's prestigious company, where Barty himself also worked. He didn't know he was looking for a job in the business sphere, and Barty was annoyed to learn he was missing information.

“Do you know him?” his father asked. “He's your age and lives here.”

Barty suppressed the urge to laugh.

“Ah, yeah, we have a friend in common, but that's all.”

“Hm.” His father scanned the resume carefully. “Find out more about him. I'll consider him for when there's an opening if he is worth it.”

Barty just nodded in response and his father changed the subject of their conversation, but Barty wasn't listening. His mind was racing faster than ever because why the fuck the guy he had a secret obsession with had suddenly decided to work for his father's company when, as far as he knew, he only worked in the hospitality industry. Perhaps he had decided to finally settle down and seek a job related to the degree he had studied. He had probably applied to work in different enterprises. It was only natural that his father's was among his choices given the reputation that preceded it.

Once his shift was over, Barty headed back to Evan's flat as usual. He always arrived before Evan came home from work —that way he would be able to watch him, if only for a few seconds. That night, however, Evan didn't turn up, nor was there any light coming from his bedroom window overlooking the street. It seemed odd —Evan didn't go out on a Tuesday night as it was his day off and he always reserved that day for himself and his hobbies. He checked his social networks and his friends'. Not a trace.

Suddenly, he felt a hot breath on his ear.

“Waiting for someone?”

Barty's heart began to pound in his ears. That voice was unmistakable.

“Not exactly.”

He made an attempt to turn around, only to be forced to stop as a knife grazed his throat.

“I'll cut your throat if you move, you fucking freak.”

Yeah? How would you do that? Would you cut my throat and dispose of my corpse yourself? Or would you leave me to bleed out to death and let somebody else find my body?

Tell me. Tell me every detail.

“Figured as much.”

Evan placed a hand on his hip to hold him in place while he held the knife firmly against his skin and Barty felt goosebumps blossom in his stomach. Fuck, that was hotter than any sex scene he'd ever pictured in his head. Okay, it might equal the one where he traced mine on Evan's inner thigh with a knife.

Evan pushed him into the alley from where he usually watched him.

“Walk.”

Barty obliged with a smirk on his face.

“Uh, bossy.”

The next thing he felt was a loud thump on his back as he hit a cold wall. He could now observe Evan's face in detail, who was still pressing the knife against his throat so steadily he could not even swallow. They made eye contact and Barty lost himself in that deep, menacing gaze that, far from intimidating him, tempted him to stay.

Do it. Cut my throat.

“I must admit you’re good. It took me a while to notice you were following me.”

Barty's smirk only grew wider.

“My, my, are you flirting with me?”

Evan punched him square in the face, causing his head to swing automatically to the left with blood leaking from his nose. His skin was burning and he loved it.

“My application, did you read it?”

Oh?

The situation was getting unbelievably more interesting.

“I have a feeling you already know I did.”

Evan grinned. He fucking grinned and Barty's stomach flipped in response.

“Okay, here's the deal: if you get me a job in your company, I'll let you fuck me.”

Huh?

Barty's brain stopped functioning rationally and instead the image of Evan on all fours on the bed while Barty fucked him hard reappeared in his mind.

“What the hell, sure.”

That night Barty went home with a new motivation, his neck intact and an erection under his trousers.