#Look At Me (You Cast Two Shadows Down the Road)

[sammyquarius]

The Aftermath

Note: Thank you @baddestbarbb and @syoung0909 this was a combination of both your ideas.

The juke joint was gone now. Burned down a year ago—maybe by hunters, maybe by time. Didn’t matter. What mattered was that Mary and Stack stood in the ruins barefoot and silent, ashes clinging to the hem of Mary’s ivory dress.

Stack lit a cigarette with shaking fingers. He didn’t need it anymore—hell, he didn’t need much of anything—but some habits were slower to die than a man was.

Mary crouched, running her hands over the scorched earth. “Used to be laughter here,” she said. “Used to be light.”

“Used to be Smoke here,” Stack answered, voice thick, teeth clenched.

He stared off where the stage once stood.

“You see him too, right?” Stack asked, quiet.

Mary didn’t look. She didn’t need to. “He’s always nearby when Sammie sings watching from the shadowws.”

And Sammie was singing now—up the road at the Magnolia Club, his voice shaking the night loose from the trees. Deep, rich, and aching with something far older than his nineteen years.

“I ain’t your savior, but I’ll bleed for the song…”

Stack closed his eyes. “He sounds like Smoke when he’s drunk. But he moves like Annie.”

Mary smiled faintly. “Annie had hips like honey and fire. That boy got her sass in his walk. And you know she’s still here too…”

“…In the kitchen,” Stack finished, and this time he did smile. “Every time I smell fried catfish, I think of her . That woman’s love language was cast iron.”

Mary laughed under her breath. “And threats. ‘You don’t eat, you don’t live,’ she used to say.”

They fell quiet again.

Then Stack’s face hardened. “We shouldn’t’ve followed Remmick.”

Mary’s smile vanished.

Stack lit a match. His hands were shaking now. “That night… we brought him into our home. Into Smoke and Annie’s place. Thought we was bringin’ salvation.”

“We brought slaughter.”

“We brought death.”

Mary stood up slowly, the breeze rustling her skirt like a sigh. “We were hungry. Lost. Newly turned. Remmick said he could make us gods.”

“And we tried to turn them,” Stack said. “Tried to turn everyone in that damn juke joint.”

Mary nodded, gaze faraway. “Smoke held Annie’s hand and said, ‘No.’ And when Remmick went for them…”

“…I killed my own kin,” Stack whispered. “By the time I realized it was too late. Annie was bleeding out, and Smoke looked at me like I was already dead.”

Mary nodded.

“They died together, on their own terms,” Stack said. “Still human. Still whole.”

Mary walked to his side and took his hand. “And now we live with it.”

But Sammie—he survived. A kid back then, still humming blues under his breath, in the Mississippi heat. He got out, escaped Remmick, escaped the carnage.

And that’s when the pact was made—unspoken, unbreakable.

Protect Sammie. At any cost.

Years later, the promise remained.

Stack and Mary learned the rhythm of the world. They moved like shadows, always near, never seen. Sammie’s voice became an echo in the Southern night, a sound that held his soul and their blood. He sang in clubs, his name whispered in the streets, his talent undeniable. Stack and Mary never let him out of their sight, always from the corner of a room, from the darkened alleys where no one would see the watchful eyes of two creatures not quite human anymore.

They were his guardians. His protectors. From the moment he started singing, they made sure nothing touched him. No one saw the faint bruises left by vampires and hunters, no one heard the unholy silences that stretched when Stack and Mary made sure the world stayed far away from Sammie’s fragile light.

Stack remembers the night it almost went wrong Sammie was sitting on the steps outside his first real gig, a blues joint tucked away in Mississippi. He was supposed to stay inside but Sammie had always had that curiosity.

“Don’t go near that alley, Sammie,” Stack thought

But Sammie had a smile that could talk a man into a prayer. “I’ll be fine. Just need some air.”

It was then Stack saw the flash of movement—two hunters, approaching with quiet, calculated steps.

Stack’s jaw clenched. He knew this was it—this was the moment . This was the time they had to decide if they were going to let Sammie have the life Smoke had begged for him to have.

Stack stepped from the shadows with a growl. He didn’t need words. His fangs bared, his hands were already reaching for the hunters, his body moved faster than lightning. By the time Mary joined him, the men were dead. Only the sound of Sammie’s guitar from inside broke the stillness.

And it wasn’t the only time. Years later, as Sammie’s fame spread across the country, Stack and Mary became ever more vigilant. Watching from the shadows as their cousin performed for packed crowds. The crowd couldn’t know the price that had been paid for Sammie’s success. The blood spilled. The hours spent in darkness, watching him sing.

But Sammie didn’t know. They made sure of that.

And Stack remembered the promise. Leave him alone. Let him live his life.

As Sammie walked the stage, eyes closed, feeling the beat in his veins, Stack’s hand stayed tight in Mary’s. And as he heard his voice soar through the crowd, Sammie was free. Free to live the life he had earned and never knowing how much his family had sacrificed to keep it that way.

Because of Stack’s promise to Smoke, and because of the love they still carried, Sammie would always be safe. He’d never be dragged into the world of vampires and monsters, never know the weight of immortality. He’d only know music, and the promise of living a life that was his own.

And that, Stack thought, was worth every sacrifice.

Note: For more content follow me on https://www.tumblr.com/sammyquarius

[chrisstvrns]

⌞passenger princess: c.s.⌝⸝⸝

now playing: PASSENGER PRINCESS: nessa barrett

warnings: fingering, public-ish, car setting, no actual sex, pet names, dirty talk, slight overstimulation, soft!dom!chris, praise kink, slight possessiveness.

word count: 845

aftercare writing marathon

the hum of the car filled the silence between the two of you, broken only by the occasional flick of chris’s turn signal and the soft bass of whatever playlist he had on shuffle. your legs were curled up in the passenger seat, hoodie sleeves pulled over your hands as you stared out at the highway lights melting into the night.

chris glanced over, one hand steady on the wheel. “you good?”

you nodded slowly, a small smile tugging at the corner of your lips. “yeah. just feels nice. being here with you.”

he didn’t say anything at first, he just reached over, rested his hand on your knee for a second, like a quiet “i’m glad you’re here too.”

he rubs your thigh, his hand slowly inching closer to your clothed cunt. 

“chris” you gasp as soon as his fingers press into your covered clit. “you’re driving.” 

“ill pull over.” he murmurs, tapping your thigh. a silent way of telling you to strip off your sweatpants. 

as soon as you lift your hips ans shimmy them down to your knees, he responds with pulling your lacy pink panties to the side, shoving two fingers inside of you, causing you to moan in response. 

his eyes were still glued on the road as he thrusts his fingers in and out of your sopping wet pussy, your legs already shaking.

you clenched around his fingers, your hand flying to grip the edge of the seat, the tension winding tight in your stomach. your breath hitched, eyes fluttering shut for a second before snapping open again at the sound of his voice.

“eyes on me,” chris murmured, tone low but firm. 

he finally pulled off onto the shoulder, engine still humming beneath the both of you, headlights casting long shadows across the empty road. the car idled quietly, the world outside a blur of motionless trees and starlit sky, but inside, it was just the two of you. just this heat curling between you.

he turned to face you fully, finally giving you his full attention.

“c’mere,” he said, voice softer now. “want to see that pretty face while you fall apart.”

his lips brushed against your jaw, your neck, featherlight kisses that contrasted the steady rhythm of his fingers still working you open. you whimpered, thighs trembling, hoodie sleeves bunched up around your wrists as you clung to the fabric like a lifeline.

“you’re unreal,” he whispered, forehead resting against yours. “mine.” 

your breath stuttered at the possessiveness in his voice, the word mine echoing in your chest, tangling with the thrum of desire already coursing through you.

“chris-” it came out barely above a whisper, broken and desperate, and that was all it took to make him smirk against your throat.

“yeah, baby?” he cooed, lips brushing the shell of your ear. “you close?”

you nodded frantically, hips jerking toward his hand without thinking, chasing the friction he gave so generously. he fucked you slow with his fingers, curling them just right, thumb now working tight circles over your clit with precision that made you dizzy.

“i know,” he murmured, nipping at your jaw. “been watching you squirm since we got in the car. couldn’t stop thinking about how wet you’d be for me.”

your back arched, a low moan catching in your throat. he grabbed your jaw with his free hand, forcing your eyes to meet his, pupils blown and lips slick from kissing every inch of your skin he could reach.

“keep looking at me,” he said again, almost reverent this time.

you tried, you really did, but the pressure in your stomach snapped before you could even warn him. your legs trembled, a whimper escaping your lips as you came hard on his fingers, clenching tight and gasping out his name like a prayer.

he groaned, watching your face with something between pride and hunger. “fuck, that’s it. so fucking pretty when you fall apart for me.”

his fingers slowed, easing you through it, soft strokes over your clit until you flinched from the overstimulation. he finally pulled back, lifting his hand between you and sucking his fingers into his mouth, moaning low at your taste.

you blinked at him, dazed and wrecked and still trying to remember how to breathe.

“you good?” he asked, echoing his question from earlier, but this time with a knowing smirk.

you nodded, cheeks flushed and lips parted. “yeah,” you said, voice hoarse. “just... holy shit.”

he chuckled, leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to your lips, a contrast to the filth of what had just happened. “you deserve to be spoiled,” he murmured. “my baby. my passenger princess, remember?”

you laughed weakly, curling into him as best you could in the cramped space of the car. outside, the world remained still, headlights painting golden arcs across the trees, but in the car, everything pulsed with heat, with the imprint of his hands and the echo of your moans.

and chris? he was already planning what he’d do to you once you got back home.

────────────୨ৎ────────────

aurora's notes: 5/15!!! this song is nearly a year old im gonna be sick

- aurora ᯓ✮⋆˙

likes and reblogs are always greatly appreciated! ੈ✩‧₊˚

to be added to my taglist, comment on this post!

[shrimpisdrawing]

MY PEICE FOR BIG BANG 2025! This year I made art for @phoenixesse ‘s INCREDIBLE fic!

GO CHECK OUT MY FELLOW ARTISTS @aknightspromise AND @peskypixel HARD WORK

I tried to imitate the style of art nouveau bc I wanted it to look like paintings someone would make of an old legend or mythology, that’s what the story felt like to me.

[twlgholts]

always kind of was, j. black

chapter one, second nature

— jacob black x f. reader

a/n: written from a washingtonian i am tired of the misrepresentation so it is my goal to accurately portray my state… but first chapter a lil nervy havent written in a year but!! had fun writing

series masterlist! next.

The road to Forks is a familiar one, even after two years. Evergreen trees blur past your window, their towering forms casting long shadows over the asphalt as your car hums along the highway. You didn’t realize how much you missed this stretch of Highway 101 till now—how the trees leaned in like close friends, how the air smelled like rain (because of course it does), how the damp air curled in through the cracked window and made everything smell like pine needles. Your fingers tap against the steering wheel following the beat of the radio, restless.

Your phone buzzes in the passenger seat.

Jake: You close yet?

A smile tugs on your lips. You can practically hear the impatience in his text.

You: Like 20 min out. Chill

Jake: Chill?? I’m literally pacing right now

You roll your eyes but a smile tugs on your lips. Jacob Black has always been like this—all energy, no patience. Some things never change.

Jacob Black. Your best friend since before you could spell your own name. You had shared everything with him growing up—scraped knees, projects in his garage, secret forts built from moss and driftwood down by First Beach. And as you drive past The City of Forks Welcomes You sign, your chest warms.

The last time you were here, you were fourteen, saying goodbye with a promise of a visit. Your dad’s job pulled your family to the buzz of Kirkland, where everything was cleaner, faster, and more modern. But life got in the way, as it does—school, your dad’s new job, the four-hour distance between Kirkland and Forks. Still, you and Jake kept in touch. Late-night calls, stupid texts, the occasional letters (because Jake thought it was funny to mail you doodles of his terrible car sketches and self-portraits). Still, Forks was yours in the way it mattered and now, thanks to your parents’ sudden, nostalgic purchase of a cozy summer house on the edge of town, it could be again.

You weren’t the same girl who had left, and from his photos, he wasn’t the same Jacob, either. He’d grown taller, broader. His baby face and chubby cheeks you used to pinch sharpened into somethin old, something you didn’t quite know how to name. And still—he was Jacob. Your best friend.

But now, you’re back.

Your parents arrived yesterday to get the house ready and you had stayed behind to finish packing, insisting on driving yourself. You needed the time to think and to tame your nerves.

Because Jake is… Jake.

When you were kids, it was simple. He was the little boy who taught you how to skip rocks, who let you steal bites of his fry bread at the rez cookouts he would invite you to, who tried to feign annoyance but eventually grin when you called him Jakey just to annoy him.

But now? You’re not sure who he is. What you guys are.

Your phone buzzes again.

Jake: I’m at your house btw

Jake: Tick-tock you better not be bailing on me

You scoff.

You: ?????

Jake: Your mom said I could wait for you so hurry up

Of course he was. You groan, but your pulse kicks up anyway.

You could see your parents were already inside the house by the time you pulled up—a modest, moss-draped place tucked between pines, just off a gravel road. Your parents’ car is parked out front. Right next to it is a black motorcycle.

Your stomach flips.

Slowly, you pull into the driveway right behind the already car park, take a deep breath, and step out. The air is thick with the scent of damp earth and pine needles. The front door is slightly ajar and you push it open.

“Mom? Dad?” No answer. You drop your bags in the foyer and head up the stairs, looking for your room at the end of the hall—

And then you see him.

Jake is leaning against your bedroom door frame, arms crossed, impatiently tapping his foot. He’s taller. A lot taller. His shoulders are broader, his frame more solid than the lanky boy you remember, and his hair was shorter now, shaggier, like he hadn’t bothered with it much. And when you made eye contact, his face looked at you like he’d forgotten how to breathe and something passed between you in the silence.

“Hey,” you said. Your voice came out softer than you meant it to.

“Took you long enough,” his face twitches slightly and he snaps out of whatever trance he was in, now grinning like he’s just won something.

“Shut up,” you reply, but you’re smiling.

He pushes off the doorframe and closes the distance between you in two strides. He pulled you into a hug that wrapped around your whole body. His warmth is immediate and almost startling, like standing in front of a bonfire. His hand lingered at your back a moment longer than necessary, but you don’t mind. You missed him. A lot.

“I missed you,” he murmured into your hair.

You smile against his chest. “Missed you too, Jakey.”

He exhales sharply and chuckles, like the words punched the air out of him. Then, slowly, his arms tighten around you.

“You still gonna call me that?” his voice is low, but there’s that familiar teasing lilt in it.

You pull away from him and look up to meet his eyes, smirking. “Mhm. Deal with it.”

He snorts. “You’re lucky I like you.”

“Please,” you say, stepping back with a grin. “You’d cry if I stopped, just like how you always did.”

“Only a little,” he shoots back, and there’s a spark in his eyes now, brighter than you remember. You’re not sure what it is—relief, maybe, or him just being awkward and shy.

Before you can reply, the sound of the front door creaking wider makes both of you glance down the stairs.

“Sweetie?” your mom calls up. “Is Jake still here?”

He winces slightly, already backing toward the stairs. “I should probably—”

“You’re staying for dinner!” she shouts before he can finish.

You blink. “Wow, ambushed.”

“I’ve been here ten minutes, she’s already planning the menu,” Jake mutters under his breath, then louder: “Uh—I mean, I don’t want to intrude—”

“Nonsense! You’re basically family.” your mom responds brightly.

He glances back at you, eyebrows raised, lips twitching like he’s holding back a smile. “You set me up.”

“I did not. She just knows you too well. Besides, you’re the one that came her before I even got to Forks.” Jake just shakes his head and shoots you a glare, muttering something under his breath as he follows you down the stairs. You can feel the energy buzzing off him—slightly nervous, but trying not to show it. He’s still smirking like an idiot, but it’s more to himself now, like he can’t quite believe he’s here again either. With you, in person, not over text or call.

The house smells like Mrs. Meyers lemon cleaner and whatever your mom is preparing in the kitchen. Jake hesitates in the foyer, glancing toward the kitchen like he's debating a quick escape, but your mom appears before he can make a move. She wraps him in a hug like no time has passed and Jake stiffens for just a second before relaxing into it, careful and gentle in a way that makes you smile softly.

“You grew up on us,” she says, pulling back to look him over. “Look at you!”

Jake rubs the back of his neck, cheeks flushed but smiling. “Still the same guy. Just a bit taller.”

“A bit? You always did shoot up like a weed,” she laughs, already turning back toward the kitchen. “Hope you’re hungry. We’ve got enough to feed a whole pack.”

He blinks at her words and nods. “Yeah. Starving.”

And then your dad strolls in from the backyard, wiping his hands on a rag, the scent of grass and sprinkler water trailing behind him. “Well, well, well. If it isn’t the only kid in this town I trust near a sprinkler system. Bet you could fix ours without even looking at it.”

“I’m your guy.” he smiles, rubbing the back of his neck again. It was always a small habit you noticed he did when he felt awkward, shy, or nervous.

Your dad claps him on the shoulders as he passes. “Glad to see you again, kid.”

And just like that, he is. Wrapped into the space like he’s always belonged, fitting in the rhythm of it, even if the walls are different. Even if everything is different.

You watch him as he sinks into the chair next to yours, still buzzing a little like he doesn’t know where to put all the energy. He’s quiet now, but not in a bad way—more like he’s soaking it in, anchoring himself to something familiar. You slide a glass of water toward him and he takes it without looking, but his fingers brush yours for half a second too long.

And while he’s still Jake, it’s not exactly the same. But neither are you.

[v6quewrlds]

imagine joe coming home to your baby.

author's note⠀⁎⠀the vibes are so sinister on here so here's some fluff. part two to this blurb that y'all screamed at me for.

The click of the garage door echoed through the quiet house as Joe's car pulled in. She looked up from her book, the dim light of the bedside lamp casting shadows on her face. She glanced at the clock on the bedside table; surprised to see that it was already past midnight. The Bengals' first road game had gone late into the night, and Joe had texted her that the team plane was delayed.

Her heart fluttered as she heard his key in the lock and the gentle thud of the door closing. She set the book aside and sat up, her eyes searching the darkness for a glimpse of him. Joe appeared in the doorway, his broad frame outlined by the moonlight spilling through the window. He looked tired but there was a softness in his eyes that spoke volumes about his relief to be home. She couldn't help but smile at the sight of him, his backpack slung over his shoulder, the scent of his shower gel still lingering faintly in the air around him.

"Hey, babe," he murmured, his voice thick with exhaustion.

"Welcome home," she answered back, her voice low and warm.

Joe dropped his bag and shuffled over to the bed, his movements slow and deliberate. He leaned in to kiss her, the tips of his fingers tracing the curve of her cheek. "Did she go down easy?" he asked, nodding towards the baby monitor.

She nodded, her smile pulling at the corners of her lips. "Yeah, I could tell she missed you though. She was glued to the TV, bouncing around in her jumper, babbling every time she saw you with your helmet off."

Joe chuckled, the sound warm and comforting in the stillness. "Yeah, my mom sent me a video. How was she with my parents?" The mattress dipped slightly as he sat down, the weight of his weariness seemingly lifting off him. She shifted her position, her arms wrapping around his waist, her chin resting on his shoulder.

"You know she loves them," she said, her voice filled with affection. "They had a blast. She even tolerates being held by other people when you're not around." She kissed his jaw lightly before adding, "But she definitely prefers her daddy."

Joe leaned into her touch, his eyes drifting over to the baby monitor. He could see Amara's chest rise and fall rhythmically, the little angelic face a picture of peace. "I thought we'd be back in time," he said with a sigh. "Wanted to tuck her in, tell her goodnight."

"I know," she soothed, her hand moving to the back of his neck, her fingers gently massaging the tension there. "You can go check on her if you want? Make sure she's okay?"

Joe nodded, a small smile playing on his lips. He turned his head to kiss her once more before standing up and making his way to the nursery. The door creaked open softly, Amara's little face illuminated by the solar system nightlight on top of the dresser. He stepped in, the plush carpet muffling his footsteps. She looked so tiny in her crib, her tiny hands balled into fists, her eyes scrunched shut in a deep sleep. He leaned over the rail, placing a gentle kiss on her forehead. Her skin was warm and soft, and she smelled faintly of baby powder and vanilla.

He lingered for just a minute more, adjusting her purple onesie as gently as he could before turning to leave. She was waiting for him in bed, her eyes closed but her breathing not yet even. He slipped under the covers, pulling her closer into his arms, and whispered, "Goodnight." Her response was a sleepy mumble, her body immediately curling into him.

He wasn't sure when he drifted off, but the sudden shrill of the baby monitor jolted Joe awake. The digital clock on the nightstand read 3:17 AM, a stark red in the darkness. She stirred beside him, mumbling something incoherent. He nudged her gently. "I got it," he whispered, slipping out of bed and into the hallway.

The nursery door was slightly ajar, and the light from the monitor cast a soft glow across the room. Amara's cries grew louder as Joe approached, his heart swelling with a mix of concern and love. He picked her up, her tiny body wriggling in his arms, and sat down in the rocking chair. He cradled her close, her warmth seeping into him, and began to rock back and forth, whispering soothing words into her ear.

"What's going on, pumpkin? Did you have a bad dream?" Joe's voice was low and gentle. He rubbed her back in slow, circular motions, his thumb tracing the line of her spine as he waited for her sobs to subside. Amara's cries grew quieter, turning into hiccups before she sniffled and nuzzled into his chest. He could feel her tiny heart beating against his own, a rhythm that never failed to soothe his own racing thoughts.

"That's better," Joe murmured, kissing the top of her head. He held her close, the rocking chair squeaking softly in the quiet room. Amara's eyes searched his face in the dim light, and he offered her a small smile. "I missed you, princess," he whispered, his voice hoarse from the post-game fatigue. "I'm proud of you for being so good for Mommy. She told me you didn't give her any trouble while I was gone."

She woke to the sound of Joe's hushed speech, her sleep-heavy eyes focusing on the empty space beside her. She glanced at the baby monitor and saw Joe rocking Amara in the nursery. A warmth spread through her chest, watching him in that moment, soothing their baby girl with such tenderness. She slid out of bed and tiptoed down the hallway, the soft glow from the nursery guiding her.

As she approached the nursery, she caught the sound of her daughter babbling softly, and Joe's soothing whispers. She could see his profile in the moonlit room, the love, and dedication etched into the lines of his face as he rubbed Amara's back, pressing soft kisses to her cheeks and forehead between his words. The scene was so intimate, so beautiful, that she almost felt like an intruder, despite it being her own family. She leaned against the door frame, taking in the sight of her husband and daughter, their bond strong in the face of the brief separation.

Amara's eyes grew heavy, and her breathing evened out as she drifted back to sleep in Joe's arms. She stepped forward, watching as Joe carefully set her down and made sure she was snug in her crib. He took a moment, his hand hovering over her tiny chest, feeling the steady rise and fall of her breaths.

[rchunee]

I’ve watched it happen again and again, haunted by A thousand kind beginnings and a thousand bloodied ends Forever tethered to your life but cursed to only watch

Rabbitology - Preybirds (Watcher Song)

Life series fandom is sleeping on Rabbitology, the lyrics suit watchers lore too much (it's even in the title of the song that art was inspired by!!)

Introducing Art inspired by Preybirds (Watcher Song), I'm actually going insane by how much the lyrics suit desertduo vibes in that case

That art was inspired by song all in all, but those quotes stand out the most:

I’ve watched it happen again and again, haunted by A thousand kind beginnings and a thousand bloodied ends I shouldn’t play with fate But what if once, I could make you safe?

So while you think you’re alone, you cast two shadows down the road Where you have buried all your past lives’ bones

The two red suns in the sky blink, my pity-filled eyes Hoping the heartlines will change this time (They’re my blank and pitiless eyes)

If you’d just look up, I could be your guide Why can’t I catch your eye how you’ve caught tens of mine

You’re blind to all my warning cries When I speak in dust devils, crop circles, flocks of mayflies So I’ve no choice but to come down

Forever tethered to your life but cursed to only watch Catastrophe Repeat until You look at me

I’m the dying fire In the birthing light And I’ll break every bind That I’m blighted by

HOW could that not be in any way inspired by life series HOW no I do not understand, or WAS IT

Playing with fate, Watchers not being able to affect fate, strings of fate, trying to affect surroundings so whoever is being addressed understands the danger, many many eyes of Watcher, pityless red eyes, fate, fate-

On a serious note, go listen to that trafficblr, you won't regret it.

[loveanddeepdick]

christmas gift 🎁

obsessed!geto x reader

cw and notes: lowk doesn't make sense, best friends to kidnapped reader to whatever you two have going on, slight angst, this will not be everyone’s cup of tea, complicated toxic relationship, stalking, toxic behavior, piv sex, YOURE the gift, geto has u locked up lol, hair pulling, spit, asphyxiation, creampie, mentions of past drugging, implied kidnapping, reader is awkward and is still adapting, I'm trying my best to put real emotions and responses into words, not the perfect smut to flick da bean to lol, self indulgent and not proofread

┈┈・୨ ✦ ୧・┈┈

all roads were iced over, going from tokyo to the edge of the city, more rural, secluded places. suguru drove his dark suv down winding roads until he came to the gate of his home. dark, metal bars open with a passcode onto the land that was his. his property. and he came home to you. his property.

he rushed out the car, boots crunching in the fresh snow. his hands jumbled with the keys, trying to find the matching silver one to the door—fuck. he didn’t lock it.

‘shit, shit, shit’

he slammed the door open, kicking off his boots to an eerily quiet home. he felt stupid. fuck. what was he thinking? he should’ve put deadbolts on the front door as well. you were probably long gone. your relationship—if you could call it that—had gotten to the point where he let you freely roam around inside the house with his supervision.

no sound of your voice, your feet steps, just the echos of his. he rushed to your room, all the way in the back of his house where he kept you, safe and sound from the outside world. he felt an iron grip on his heart, his stomach falling to his feet as he ran. you probably went down to his neighbor’s, called 911, maybe a young man helped you, you were definitely gone, you—

you?

there you were, in the same pajamas suguru had gently slid you in last night, wearing a little red bow in your hair. his chest heaved, a drop of swear dripping down his forehead, his eyes narrowing on you. you, on the floor, sitting criss-cross with a book in your hands as you leaned against the bed.

deep purple, with a red undertone, some would say it was evil. they bore into you and from where you were sitting on the floor, he looked like a statue. the shadows that were cast from the lamp in the hallway and the window in your shared bedroom made him look ethereal. maybe it was all the weeks that you were kept in captivity. maybe it was all the sleeping drugs he fed you finally catching up to you.

he looked so other-worldly.

suguru held your gaze for a few seconds, his chest heaving from the adrenaline. you were still here? you could've run away, yet you stayed so pliant and good. you wanted to stay, didn't you?

"welcome home, suguru," you blinked up at him, your eyelashes batting so deer-like. you were like a little animal, held in captivity by a scary man, but it was almost ironic how he felt like a deer in headlights.

he broke out of his trance, reaching you in two long strides before dropping to his knees, enveloping you in his slender, lean arms. being embraced by suguru was not like a hug. if anything, it was most similar to being embraced by a thick wall of cold, misty fog. you slowly wrap your hands around his bicep as he takes deep, heavy breaths into the crook of your neck.

"you're here," he huffs out, "my angel"

"uh.. yeah," your eyes wandered the room awkwardly as his giant frame hung over yours, "as always,"

"don't leave."

"i think you established that, suguru"

"don't."

he pulled away from the embrace, still leaving little room between the two of you. his nose was inches away from yours, his skin sickly pale. dark purple eyes, more alluring than ever boring into your face, scanning your features as if he was still trying to process that you were real.

"you miss me or something?" geto huffed out, one hand travelling up to the back of your head, your hair threading through hs fingers. you respond with a curt nod, trying to avoid eye contact. you felt as though you were.. blushing? yet the temperature in the room only continued to drop.

"i did miss you," you murmur, dodging geto's eyes even though his head only followed yours.

"look at me, angel. stop trying to avoid me. there's no escaping me, I told you, didn't i?" geto's grip tightened on your head before releasing again, "I'm sorry. didn't mean to scare you,"

he pulled his hand from the back of your head down to the nape of your neck, rubbing it gently with his thumb.

"s'okay," you bit your lip before looking up at him, "did you eat today?"

he nodded before lowering his gaze to your lips. the air felt cold and heavy. you couldn't even count the days your best friend had locked you in his home. your dynamic had definitely changed, so have the complicated feelings you two had harboured for each other. his head dipped with a deep sigh before he looked back up at you.

"i brought you dinner. it's in the car," suguru got up before pausing, looking back at you and motioning for you to follow.

and with a smile, you followed.

┈┈・୨ ✦ ୧・┈┈

the fireplace crackled as he flipped through the channels on the tv. he sat on the couch, his legs pointing in different directions as he manspread. it gave you a bit of the ick..

but there you were, cuddled up on suguru's lap, full of the dinner that suguru had brought home, in suguru's house. why were you comfortable on his lap? the same man that had locked you away from society. yet, it was the same man that comforted you on the darkest nights, walked you home from work, bought you snacks when you were sad.

you shook your thoughts away, the conflicting emotions messing with your head. at first, you screamed at him, thrashed against his hold, yet here you were, with your best friend, your captor, your.. what what he to you?

his arm was wrapped around you, the tv droning away in the background as you seemed to disassociate, swaying in his lap as his hand came to rest on your full belly, stroking it gently with his thumb.

"you good?" he hummed, "or are you just tired, hm? your belly must be full, ain't it, angel,"

you swallowed, your eyes roaming back onto his face as you processed what he was saying. from directly below, his face looked gentler, his eyes less daunting, and his thick eyebrows furrowed in worry. he leaned in, planting a kiss on the tip of your nose.

it was weird. his kisses felt weird now. there was a lack of something. you two had kissed before when you were younger. stupid kids, 'practicing' kissing, two drunk adults barely hitting the legal drinking age, kissing while drunk together at a bar.

his hand was cupping your clothed crotch. it wasn't anything sexual, he claimed he just liked the intimacy, the closeness, and the trust you had in him.

he fixed the bow in your hair, his eyes roaming your face slowly. if someone pointed a gun at your head right now, you wouldn't be able to tell them what the hell was playing on tv because all you could focus on was how handsome he looked from this angle. the feeling was potent, poisonous, nauseous, toxic.

his free arm cupped your cheek as he chuckled, "you didn't answer me, angel,"

"oh.. sorry. i'm okay," you breathed out

he hummed in response as you leaned in, capturing his lips. the feeling was indescribable like something had changed in the wiring of your brain, like someone had injected a foreign substance into your blood. your lips moved naturally with his like you were meant for him, made for him.

"wrapped like a nice little present for me, aren't you?" suguru lifted a hand, pulling your hair back to open your lips, glossed and colored for him. it was nasty, how he spit in your mouth, how you knew what every tug, every pull from him meant. you had lost your virginity to him long before he locked you in here. complicated didn't even begin to describe your relationship with him.

you swallowed it, his toxic essence, the warmth sliding down your throat as he nearly grinned. his hand on your crotch traveled lower, his pointer and middle finger poking into the concave where he knew your pussy was. he knew every inch of you, every curve and crevice, and you knew all of him. knew he loved it when you reached up to his adam's apple and brushed it with your thumb, he'd let out a quiet whine, or if you bit down anywhere on his torso, he'd get embarrassingly hard.

"i can feel you getting wet, angel," he murmured, "you want this?"

he waited until you nodded before moving his hand to the waistband of your pajamas, sliding down under your white cotton panties and rubbing at your clit gently. you whined before he leaned in, his cold, chapped lips on yours.

"shh, shh.. be a good girl, c'mere," he carried you, placing you gently down on the couch so your head was resting on the armrest. he caged you under his arms, one hand coming up to stroke your cheek before placing his fingers before your face, lanky pale fingers coated in your slick. he took a long, hard inhale of your scent on his fingers before putting them in his mouth, sucking hard before popping them out.

"stop, suguru, that's so embarrassing," you huffed out, looking away.

"yeah? i bet you're getting wetter, aren't you?" he grinned before pulling your pajamas down, leaving you in your top, your panties, and a bow, "dirty fuckin' girl, aren't you?"

you reached down, palming his crotch as you mewled in want. he sucked his teeth before reaching down, pulling your panties slowly down, watching your slick stick your panties as he peeled them off your pussy,

"shit, merry christmas to us, huh?"

his dick was lanky and pale like him. veiny, with a sensitive head. you felt it prodding against your pussy as he slowly pushed in, hissing as your pussy clenched around his long dick. your hand came up to his throat as he began moving in you with slow, long thrusts. you rubbed his adam's apple gently as he began thrusting harder, his tip reaching your cervix and brushing your cervix. he whined, his hips stuttering.

"do that again, angel, fuck yeah, squeeze it a little,"

the sight was filthy. being split open on your best friend's couch, the same best friend who kidnapped you however long ago, the one you knew inside and out. your pussy dripping all over the couch cushions as his big dick always made you a sloppy mess.

"suguu, i'm close!" you mewl, squeezing his throat a little tighter as he continues pounding your pussy, one of his hands coming down to rub at your clit.

"cum for me, be a good girl, my good girl-fuck, my only good girl,"

he thrust ropes of white, thick cum deep into your pussy, coating your insides with the translucent liquid as it spilled out of your pussy as he pulled out. leaning down, he ignored your yelp as he pushed his cum into you with his tongue, not forgetting to swirl it a bit around your clit before traveling back up to your lips.

he paused, contemplating what to do. you two constantly danced around the gray area of what you considered intimacy. your relationship with him, what were you to him? what was he to you? he gave you a short peck before cleaning you up.

he pulled you back into his lap as he tucked himself away, "i've been meaning to give you this," he mumbled, pulling something out of his pocket. you turned your head to the sound of metal clinking.

a set of keys to his house.

"you want freedom, don't you?" he chuckled, grabbing your hand and placing it in your palm, "it's all yours,"

you were still dizzy from the waves of your orgasm. freedom. how empty it sounded from the mouth of the devil.

[woso-story]

Crash And Care

Alexia Putellas x Reader

The sun hung low over Phuket, casting golden streaks across the sky as the salty breeze from the ocean wrapped around you like a warm embrace. The streets buzzed with energy—locals selling their goods, tourists marveling at the vibrant culture, the scent of sizzling street food filling the air.

You stood next to a row of brightly colored mopeds, hands on your hips, grinning as you turned toward Alexia. She, on the other hand, had her arms crossed, an eyebrow raised, her expression laced with doubt.

"One moped," she said firmly, her Spanish accent wrapping around the words in that way that always made your heart stutter. "I drive, you hold onto me. Easy, safe."

You let out a chuckle, shaking your head. "Alexia, come on. It'll be more fun if we each have one. We can race—"

"Absolutely not."

"Not an actual race!" you amended quickly. "Just… you know, side by side, cruising through the streets, feeling the wind, enjoying the freedom."

She sighed, looking between you and the row of mopeds. "I don’t know… Are you even a good driver?"

You scoffed, feigning offense. "Of course, I am! I’ve got great reflexes, a solid sense of balance, and a need for speed."

Alexia let out a groan, rubbing her temples. "That last part is exactly why I don’t trust you on one."

You reached out, tugging on her hand with a pleading look. "Please? Just trust me."

She exhaled sharply, shaking her head but smiling softly. "Fine. But if you crash, I will never let you forget it."

You grinned triumphantly. "Deal."

Little did you know, that deal would come back to haunt you sooner than you thought.

---

With your mopeds secured, the two of you took off through the bustling streets, weaving through traffic with ease. The warm air brushed against your skin, the world around you buzzing with life.

Every turn brought something new—colorful markets filled with handcrafted goods, vendors offering fresh tropical fruits, the distant sound of waves crashing against the shore. You stopped frequently, indulging in juicy mangoes, sweet coconuts, and skewers of grilled meats that had your taste buds dancing.

At the beach, the sand was soft beneath your toes as you ran into the crystal-clear water, splashing at Alexia before she tackled you into the waves, both of you laughing as the sun kissed your skin.

Later, you found a secluded trail leading to a waterfall, the hike short but rewarding. The cascading water sparkled under the afternoon sun, the sound of nature wrapping around you as Alexia pulled you close, pressing a soft kiss to your temple.

"You were right," she murmured, watching as you ran your fingers through the cool water. "Today is perfect."

You turned to her with a proud smirk. "Told you. And see? No accidents, no crashes. I’m an excellent driver."

She rolled her eyes but couldn’t hide the small smile tugging at her lips. "Yeah, you were right."

---

The journey back was smooth at first, the streets giving way to a more rugged, downhill path. The moped rumbled beneath you as you followed Alexia down the narrow trail, the setting sun casting long shadows across the road.

But then you felt it.

The road dipped unexpectedly, the moped picking up speed faster than you anticipated. Your heart hammered as you gripped the handlebars tighter, but the uneven ground made the ride unstable.

A bump. A sharp jolt. A sudden loss of control.

Time seemed to slow as the moped wobbled violently beneath you. Your instincts screamed at you to regain balance, but it was too late. The world tilted, and before you could react, you were thrown from the seat, crashing hard onto the rough terrain.

A sharp sting shot through your body as gravel scraped against your skin, the impact knocking the air from your lungs. For a moment, everything was a blur—distant voices, footsteps rushing toward you, the sensation of hands gently cradling your face.

Then, clarity.

Alexia was there, crouched beside you, her face pale with worry. "Amor, talk to me. What hurts?"

You groaned, trying to sit up, only for pain to flare through your left side. Looking down, you saw a long, angry scrape running down your leg, raw and stinging. Your arm throbbed, another large graze marking the skin.

"Shit…" you muttered, blinking away the haze.

Alexia’s hands hovered over you, hesitant to touch, as if afraid she’d make things worse. "Are you dizzy? Did you hit your head?"

You shook your head, wincing. "Helmet." You patted the scuffed but intact helmet still strapped to your head. "I’m okay… I think."

Locals had stopped to help, concerned voices mixing in Thai and English. With Alexia’s support, and a few strong hands, you were carefully lifted to your feet. Your whole body ached, your skin stung, but nothing felt broken.

Then, you saw it.

The moped, lying in a wrecked heap on the side of the road.

Guilt hit you instantly. "Lex, I'm so sorry. I wrecked it."

But she wasn’t even looking at the moped. She was looking at you, her jaw tight, eyes filled with something between fear and frustration.

"That’s not important," she said firmly. "You are."

The way she said it, the way her voice wavered slightly, made your chest tighten. She had been scared. Really scared.

You swallowed, feeling suddenly small. "I should’ve listened to you."

Alexia let out a breath, her hands gripping your shoulders. "Yes, you should have."

---

The next few hours were a blur—hospital, X-rays, bandages, and the relief of knowing nothing was broken. By the time you made it back to the Airbnb, exhaustion had settled deep in your bones.

The moment your head hit the pillow, you groaned. "This is not how I wanted our vacation to go."

Alexia, sitting on the edge of the bed, smirked. "It’s what happens when you don’t listen to me."

You cracked an eye open to glare at her, but she was already leaning down, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. "But since you’re injured, I suppose I have to take care of you now."

And she did.

For the rest of the trip, Alexia was relentless. She insisted on bringing you food, making sure you were hydrated, helping you walk when your leg was sore, even tying your hair when your arm hurt too much to lift.

Every single time, she’d throw in a smug, "This is why I said one moped, mi amor. Because you are a terrible driver."

You groaned dramatically, rolling your eyes. "I get it, I get it. You were right."

She beamed, clearly satisfied. "I love hearing that."

Despite the accident, the days that followed were still filled with laughter, love, and soft moments. Because as much as you might have wrecked the moped, you knew one thing for sure—Alexia would never let you fall alone.

[peskypixel]

@sthbigbang round 2! This is my piece for @phoenixesse's fic Look At Me (You Cast Two Shadows Down the Road) featuring shadow, the deity of the stars. Check out the other artists @aknightspromise and @shrimpisdrawing Thank you sth big bang its been a blast

[megalony]

A Hindrance

This is a new Emperor Geta imagine (Gladiator), thank you to the lovely anon who requested this. Please let me know what you think.

I'd love to take on any Geta requests anybody has.

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Main Masterlist

Summary: (Y/n) tries to attend state meetings now she is married to an Emperor, but some of the Senates aren't so kind towards her. When Geta finds out, he makes them see reason.

Enjoy.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A soft grin formed on (Y/n)'s lips before she even found the will power to open her eyes. She didn't have to look up to know that the shadows casting over her was because of her husband.

It almost felt strange to think that, to acknowledge that she was married now. That she was bound to someone from now until her last day. Someone to give herself to, someone to be herself around and to love more than anyone else; before anyone else. But it was also one of the most wonderful feelings in the world to (Y/n).

Knowing she was married to one of two Emperors was a daunting thought. It was easy for (Y/n) to separate Geta from the crown placed on his head, sometimes it was like seeing him as two different people. The stone faced Emperor the people saw, and the thawed out, doting man she had married only a fortnight ago.

"What are you doing?" Her voice was as soft and subtle as the warm breeze passing through the open window.

And when (Y/n) dared to open her eyes, she was met with a lovely sight. Geta had his right arm pressing down into the mattress near her shoulder and his head was tilted at an angle so he was looking down at her. He was leaning up on his elbow and his hip and his left arm stretched out so his fingers could create a ticklish path from the base of (Y/n)'s throat down her bare chest. It was almost as if Geta was drawing a map or following a road with the pad of his finger.

The lazy smile on his lips was infectious and seeing him now, bare and absent of any make up, it made him look warm. There was finally colour to his cheeks and a redness to his lips and a soft pale cream beneath his eyes.

It was homely and soothing to see Geta in this light, and to know that (Y/n) was the only person who got to see him like this. But she would have to admit that seeing him in his full regalia and make up was also a sight to behold. His deathly white skin when it was painted always looked so regal rather than pasty and ill. And the black streaks painted beneath his eyes made him stand out and made his gaze all the more piercing.

"Admiring the view," Geta murmured back whilst he continued his administrations, trailing his fingers down until he was creating patterns and secret words along (Y/n)'s waist just to feel the way she qould squirm and fidget beneath him.

His words set a fire blazing within (Y/n) and she couldn't help but reach her hand up to cup the side of his face. She pushed up from the pillow to capture him in a kiss that seemed to entice him until he was pushing his bare chest down against hers.

When she prepared to marry Geta, people had warned her. They told (Y/n) that Geta wouldn't give up his concubines or the women of the night he ventured to with his brother. And they also said that because he was an Emperor, he wasn't expected to either. He was permitted and socially applauded for keeping those favoured women around and having them to go to when he didn't want to be with his wife or in the event that she became pregnant.

Part of (Y/n) had tried to prepare herself for that thought and that event, but it turned out that she had no need. Geta had dismissed them all. All the women and concubines who had been at the palace to serve him had been dismissed and the only ones who remained were Caracalla's favoured women.

Geta had made it very clear that he didn't want anyone but (Y/n); he would devote himself to her in the same respect he expected her to devote to him. And (Y/n) was beyond happy with that gesture of love and trust.

"Don't we have a meeting to attend?" (Y/n)'s thumb stroked the side of Geta's face that she was still cradling in her palm and she spoke in between stolen kisses against his blushing red lips.

She liked the way his hands stopped drawing on her skin in favour of gripping her waist when she moved to sit up and he followed suit. His nose nudged against hers and his lips stole every breath (Y/n) tried to inhale like Geta simply couldn't breathe without her.

When one hand left her hip in favour of cradling the back of her neck so he could angle her lips better to his, (Y/n) could have passed out then and there. Her hands moved to grip his sturdy shoulders and she let him steal half a dozen more kisses and touches before she finally pulled back for air before her head burst.

"The meeting," She mumbled against his lips and leaned forward to leave an open mouthed kiss against the very corner of his mouth which caused Geta's eyes to flutter closed.

"This is more important."

"I don't think the Senate would agree."

"Ah, but taking care of my wife is my responsibility, not theirs." Geta's counter argument was effective, even if he wasn't using it to sway (Y/n)'s mind since he was already untangling from the sheets so he could stand up.

His touch lingered on her skin after he ventured into the smaller, adjoining room that housed all their clothes and garments.

(Y/n) supposed that she should get ready as well since she was expected to attend the meeting. She was expected to attend most, if not all, of the meetings both Emperors had regarding Rome and their conquored nations. She was the Empress now, her husband was one of the rulers and it wasn't just about being by his side and showing support for him and the people.

It was about (Y/n) understanding the governing of Rome and listening to the matters of state. (Y/n) had to know just as much as the Emperors about the land they ruled and controlled, she couldn't rely on second hand information from others.

Once she was dressed, (Y/n) smoothed her hands up and down her dress, brushing off the few wrinkles and making sure that it didn't hug too tight around her frame and flowed freely around her lower legs.

She began to pin her hair back and donned a golden band in her hair which matched the golden belt around her waist just as she felt a familiar pair of hands on her hips. She felt the growl rumble from Geta's lips through her neck and all throughout her blood when he tucked his face into her neck.

And she heard 'beautiful' and 'matching' mutter past his lips like he was singing her praises. She realised the colour of her dressed matched what Geta had chosen to wear.

Most of his and Caracalla's clothes had some element of gold in them, for gold was the colour of wealth and regal and it matched their natural fiery hair. Although where Caracalla favoured blue with gold, it was well seen that Geta favoured red.

He had streaks of red woven into the clothing he was wearing which was outwardly cream with gold embellishments and edgings. His robes didn't have sleeves as long as some of his other garments, the sleeves on this particular robe Geta wore today cut just past his shoulders and hung in front of his chest like a backwards cape.

(Y/n) murmured a soft "Thank you," When Geta unravelled himself from her and moved to stand beside her in front of the table which heldall the various pins and rings and jewels each of them would wear.

Geta had grown accustomed to sleeping with his rings still on his fingers until two weeks ago when he married (Y/n). None of his concubines had ever shared his bed all through the night so he hadn't realised that he could swing his arms out during his sleep. The rings that clad his fingers were heavy and had caused a bruise or two on (Y/n)'s soft skin when he slung an arm over her or at her during the night.

His fingers skimmed over the rings and he set about sliding each one over the grooves of his fingers towards his knuckles.

But when it came to choosing and clipping his other jewellery, he paused. His lips curved into a soft, melting smile when he held his wrist out towards (Y/n) and felt her soft touch skimming across his skin.

He watched with growing adoration in his eyes as (Y/n)slid a golden band over his wrist which looked like a piece of armor that started at his wrist and went halfway up his forearm. Next, she chose a thin gold bracelet to place on his other wrist and two golden chains for his neck.

Geta leaned forward towards her, raising a brow and curving his lips into a sideways grin as he bowed his head towards her chest so she could reach and loop the first chain over the back of his head until it hung comfortably around his neck. The pendant on the chain settled just below his collar bone, situated lovingly against his exposed pale skin and the second chain that looped around his neck hung much lower and rested over halfway down his chest.

When he raised back up to his full height, (Y/n) grinned as if admiring a work of art which in many ways, Geta was to her. The finishing touch was the golden leaf crown that (Y/n) carefully nestled into his golden hair, making sure the crown wasn't engulfed or obscured by his silky strands.

"My Emperor," Her voice was as tender as her touch when she skimmed the back of her hand down Geta's cheek and over his exposed chest.

She was sure he whispered "Yours alone." Against her lips when he dove down to steal a kiss and brush a loose tendril of hair back behind her ear.

(Y/n) slid her own rings onto her fingers when Geta finally released her so he could apply the make up he favoured whenever he had be seen by anyone other than his wife or brother. She hooked a few bracelets onto her wrist and one necklace.

Once they were both ready, (Y/n) looped her right hand around Geta's arm and stood close to his side as they left their chambers.

It had only been two weeks since their wedding, but they were quickly falling into a rhythm and routine together. Breakfast wasn't something they tended to fuss about. Before Geta and Caracalla became Emperors, during their harsh childhood, food had been something of a luxury they couldn't afford, something they didn't find often enough.

Breakfast had been cut out of their routines, they ate at midday and late evening, a lot of the times while growing up it had been one small meal a day if they were lucky. Becoming Emperors and having all the riches and luxuries in the world made them appreciate what they never used to have and they stuck to the routine of two meals a day.

And Geta preferred to get up and go straight to business, walk straight into these meetings. (Y/n) would follow Geta.

She was his wife, she wanted to show her support and show that their alliance was a loving and happy one. If Geta went to meetings and events alone it might imply that something was wrong or he didn't want her around. (Y/n) didn't want to give off that impression, especially when Geta wanted her by his side every moment of the day. He couldn't bear to be without her.

Her cheek nuzzled into his shoulder as they walked in tandem down the long corridors and down a flight of stairs.

The room in the palace where meetings were held was a large open court room that overlooked one of the fountains outside. (Y/n) thought the room was lovely, until it was filled with people.

The walls of stone were thick and high and when voices got louder, the room echoed badly. (Y/n) had never been a fan of crowds but loud noises were something she couldn't abide by. It was something Geta had figured out very early on in their courtship and something he was invested in helping with now that they were married.

Once they entered the room, a cold shiver passed over (Y/n) and she tucked herself more into Geta's side.

Apart from him and Caracalla, there weren't many, if any, people in here that she knew well enough to trust or talk to. (Y/n) was still finding her feet, she was attending these meetings more to keep on track with what was happening in Rome and to learn rather than to add any opinions or input into the room.

She was too nervous to speak unless Geta struck up a conversation and asked for her opinion and even then, (Y/n) was timid. Geta never pushed her into conversations, he was more than happy to simply have his wife by his side and on his arm. If she didn't want to speak that was fine by him, he would never push her boundaries.

It still felt unusual to sit in the centre of the room, being at the centre of the attention and focus of every other person in the room. (Y/n) was used to some attention, it came with the territory of being born into the upper class. She had to mind her manners, always be elequent when in public and hold her tongue. But being married to an Emperor was something else entirely. It was a whole new level of scrutiny and observation.

At least (Y/n) wasn't the full centre of attention. That fell onto her husband and brother in law. (Y/n) could sit silent by Geta's side and observe and he was the only person who would ask her opinion or ask her to comment. And he tried not to because he could see it made (Y/n) nervous.

When they sat down, Geta propped his chin on one hand and stretched his other arm across to rest on (Y/n)'s thigh. His fingers danced across her skin and the metal rings cladding his fingers tapped against her thigh in a soft, lulling pattern as he tried to concentrate as the meeting began.

The moment everyone began to speak, (Y/n) felt uneasy. No one seemed to wait their turn to speak. These were all men of the world, men of upper class, and yet they couldn't be polite enough to wait until one had finished speaking for another to butt in and make his point. They rose their voices over each other to be heard and to try and get one or both Emperors to listen to them before anyone else.

Their voices were loud enough without the stone walls echoing them and doubling their volume until it felt like needles were scratching down (Y/n)'s spine and stabbing into her ears.

Her fingers began to glide across each of Geta's rings and she tilted her head down to try and study each one, even though she had practically committed each design to memory by now. She needed something to focus on to calm herself down so she could listen to their raised voice in the background. It took patience to endure these meetings and although (Y/n) had abundance of patience, she wasn't sure she had the willpower.

But this was her place. Being beside her husband, listening to state affairs and the problems of Rome. This was where she was supposed to be and (Y/n) didn't dare ask to be removed from these meetings in fear of what people would say. What Geta would say. She didn't want to let him down, not when they had only just married.

Geta nodded aimlessly to the three Senates stood beside Caracalla who were now starting to raise their voices to get their invalid, separate points across. When one particular man rose his voice and his pitch seemed to bounce off the stone walls, Geta looked to his left.

He felt (Y/n) shudder.

Her fingers paused their administrations dancing across his knuckles and she seemed to shrink and jump in her seat when the particular echo vibrated through her ears.

That was something Geta had noticed a lot these past two weeks. He noticed his wife shrink back into his side or pull away when a particularly loud noise or someone's shout sounded loudly nearby. Loud noises never bothered Geta. He had grown up in a palace with strict rules and tutors and people rushing about and making clattering noises at all hours.

He was used to the roaring crowds of the colosseum and the cheering crowds when speeches were given and events were hosted. It was part of his life and his ears had become deafened to raised tones and volumes. Sometimes it slipped his mind that other people might have a sensitivity to things like this. He would have to keep an eye on (Y/n) and take note of what disgruntled her to make sure it didn't occur again.

After another debate that (Y/n) could barely keep track of, she finally stopped trailing her fingers across Geta's rings and hand in favour of squeezing his wrist to gain his attention.

She loved the way his head inclined in her direction and how his ruby red lips formed a living grin even before he knew what she was going to say. His free hand was pressing into his chin and his fingertips were tapping along his lip as if to obscure his smile so only his wife was able to see it.

The way (Y/n) silently circled her finger through the air gave Geta all the information he needed and he nodded, removing his hand from her thigh to allow her to get up. She was going to circle the room and try to get some fresh air from the open doors. Sitting down was making her go stiff and she wasn't engaged in conversation so no one could say anything if she traipsed around the room for a little while.

Her hands smoothed across her dress as if sorting the imaginary creases and her sandals glided agaginst the slabs of stone that scuffed beneath her feet. The subtle click of her sandals against the floor was a soothing sound compared to the voices and hands thrashing down on table tops to get their oblivious points across.

If it would have been socially acceptable to have Arla, her pet, in this meeting with them then (Y/n) would have asked one of the servants to bring her in. But she could just imagine the looks she would receive from all the older men in the room. The looks of distaste and irritation, the snide glances and tuts and eye rolls that it would cause.

After all, (Y/n) was an Empress but she wasn't the highest point of authority in Rome like her husband and her brother in law. If Caracalla ever brought Dondus into the meetings, no one batted an eyelid. No one wanted to be at the end of his temper and receive Caracalla's wrath. (Y/n) was different. She may have a temper, but she would never let it flare or argue with anyone, especially not in front of a crowd.

At least having Arla here with her would have made (Y/n) feel calmer and it would have given her something to put her attention to.

(Y/n) had a sudden, yearning desire to creep out of the door behind her when she stood at the corner of the room near the open doors that led out towards one of the many gardens in the palace. She wanted to disappear outside or head back into the palace and go about her day. She wanted to be away from prying eyes and wait faithfully for Geta rather than to be in here feeling useless and giving very little help or reasoning to this meeting.

She contemplated the thought for a while, that was, until she heard her title being called behind her.

"Empress." The quiet yet gruff voice caused (Y/n) to turn on her heels.

She clasped her hands together in front of her and tilted her head to one side as she looked the Senate up and down. It was Senator Arelius. A gentleman already on the wrong side of middle age with thinning grey hair and gaunt features that made him look toughened and stern.

He seemed to be smiling, but the way his eyes were narrowed down on (Y/n) made her feel unsettled and the slight curve of his lips was frightening rather than inviting.

"Arelius," (Y/n) nodded her head in acknowledgement and put on her best smile as her hands tightened together until the blood was cut off from her fingertips. She tried to be subtle as she took one step to the right so she could glance behind him and cast her eyes towards her husband.

(Y/n) wouldn't want to walk over there and interrupt Geta if he was deep in conversation, but she would rather be back at his side than stood here with a man she didn't trust and hardly knew.

Most of the Senates (Y/n) didn't trust because she knew the way they thought and how they did politics. They were all out for their own gain. When some heard of her betrothal to Geta, they began to get close to (Y/n), to try and befriend her and be on her good side in hopes that she would do them favours with the Emperors. They were wrong. (Y/n) wouldn't be used as a pawn in their games.

She would rather not talk to any of them unless it was strictly necessary.

The conversation between them quickly became stilted and broken and when Arelius turned so he was stood beside (Y/n) rather than in front of her, he looked back towards the Emperors. Both Emperors were on their feet and now stood around the table in the far corner of the room, nodding and observing the notes that they were being presented with.

It was as if Geta could sense their stares because he cast his head to the left and let a smile grace his lips when he looked at (Y/n) before he cast his eyes back down to his notes. A small acknowledgement that he still had her on his mind and that he wasn't too swept away with state business to be thinking of her and making sure she was okay.

"It seems the Emperor doesn't want to let his bride out of his sight. Does he not trust you, my Lady?"

Arelius's words made (Y/n)'s thoughts come to a halt and her expression faltered in panic as she turned to look up at him. Why would he say something like that? What would make him think that?

(Y/n) wasn't someone who needed to be watched at every moment of the day in case she did something wrong. She was not a child who needed supervision, she was Geta's wife. And he didn't have her here in the meeting with them just so he could keep an eye on her. She was here because it was her place and Geta wanted his wife by his side, not someone to keep track over.

"Pardon?" She did her best to steel her voice and hold her head high to show that she didn't believe nor take too kindly to what he was insinuating.

"Maybe the Emperor fears you might become a hinderence if you are left to your own devices."

The way Arelius smiled was as if he was a kindly parent trying to give (Y/n) some kind of advice. She didn't appreciate it. She did not appreciate what he was saying for he was acting as if she was inexperienced in state affairs like this. (Y/n) knew how to act and what to do and how to engage in these conversations, she simply did not wish to engage.

But she always acted respectfully, she never caused any scene or started arguments like the rest of the men in here. She did nothing to make Geta upset or show him up in front of his subserviant men.

(Y/n) could feel tears welling up behind her eyes that she did her best to push away as she tried to take a deep breath to control herself. The last thing she needed was to cause a scene or get upset and prove him right.

Her head tilted back and her chin raised high as she tried to hold herself together and find something to say in rebuttal but she paused when she noticed another Senate clearly listening in on their one-sided conversation. The other Senate was just a little bit younger than Arelius, and he had the kind of smile that was unnerving and made (Y/n) take a step back.

She continued to knot her fingers together as she mustered up the courage to speak her mind.

"Is it not a wife's place to be with her husband, especially an Empress? I think I should witness matters of state, Senator." (Y/n) thought she worded that rather well, and she was telling the truth.

It was her place to be beside Geta, she was his wife, she was supposed to support his decisions and what better way to do that than to witness those decisions being made. Show her support right from the start. If they didn't want (Y/n) here then they had to bring that up with both the Emperors.

"Or to be supervised." The younger Senate, Forin, muttered with one arched brow and his head twisted to the other side as if (Y/n) wasn't worth her time and this conversation wasn't as interesting as he hoped it would be.

"I think I'll take my place now."

(Y/n) took another step to the side and twisted away from both of them. Her place was beside her Emperor, no one else could say that and these two men, however high and mighty they thought of themselves, were not as high as they thought they were. At least not when compared with (Y/n)'s elevated status.

She could go and sit with Geta whereas they would have to fight to bend his ear and get any of his attention. (Y/n) never had to fight for Geta's attention; not once.

One step closer to Geta was all (Y/n) managed before a hand curled around her arm and she was suddenly halted in her pace by his firm grip. He wasn't finished, and he didn't like people walking away from him when he was clearly not done with their conversation.

"I can explain the matters of State for you, so you don't interrupt."

Did he really think (Y/n) would blunder over there and interrupt her husband? Did he think she was a child who needed watching and that she needed everything to be dumbed down and explained to her using pictures?

His words made (Y/n)'s stomach churn but his grip on her arm was what was unsettling her the most. As much as she wasn't a fan of loud noises, (Y/n) really wasn't a fan of personal contact or touch with anyone who wasn't her close family. Geta, Caracalla and her parents were the only people she was okay with being this close to her.

Having a Senate who was clearly unsettled and annoyed with her, grabbing her to pull her back and keep her from 'interrupting' her husband.

Her eyes darted between Arelius and his hand on her arm as her hands clenched and her palms began to sweat.

As if by chance, Geta turned to look behind him again. He thought (Y/n) would have been back by his side by now. She didn't often walk around the room for so long, especially when she didn't tend to talk to anyone during these meetings. She liked to be back by Geta's side and he liked to have her back with him as her presence was calming.

It took Geta a moment to scour his eyes around the hall and find his wife but when he did, his brows furrowed.

Why did Senator Arelius have his hand on Geta's wife?

Geta couldn't think of one valid reason why the Senate would be gripping her like that. The touch was clearly making her uncomfortable and that thought was riling up the bottle of rage that was held within Geta's chest. He could feel it spilling over inside of him like an errupting volcano and it made his blood fizzle and sent colour rushing beneath his painted white cheeks.

He straightened up until his spine clicked into place and he looked as straight as a board with a face that could rival the worst thunderstorm.

Before any of the Senates or his brother gathering round the table had chance to question what had changed Geta's mood so suddenly, he raised his right hand to pause their conversation.

He turned on his heels and stormed away from the table, aiming for the Senate with a blazing fury in his eyes and his jaw ground tight causing his pale cheekbones to pop out. His hands clenched into fists at his sides while he moved to stand directly beside (Y/n), close enough that she could feel his chest brushing up against her arm.

"Is there a problem?" The steely tone to Geta's voice was enough to make the warm summer air turn brisk and damp with cold as if Winter had rolled in without them knowing.

The way his eyes raked up and down Arelius made the elder man shiver and look as if he were about to melt into a puddle on the floor. The scrutiny in Geta's eyes was unnerving and frightening. He was displeased, and no one got away with displeasing an Emperor without a reprimand.

"No Emperor," Arelius smiled nervously and tilted his head back as he tried to calm his rising panic and steady himself.

"Then remove your hand from my wife, unless you wish to lose it."

(Y/n) gasped with the swiftness that Geta moved and how fast his demanour changed. Within an instant, his left arm was secured around her waist, reeling her into his side at the same moment which Arelius let go of her arm. But his right hand moved to push part of his robe to the side so his palm could curl around the handle of his sword.

A threat.

A very clear, menacing threat that told Arelius if he didn't back off, he would lose a limb; possibly his life. Geta was no stranger to being ruthless and he would easily follow through with any threat that he made.

The deep breath that Geta intook made (Y/n) tuck herself more into his side and push back into his firm chest that felt like it was fit to burst. She didn't want a scene to break out, not because of her and not when nothing had really happened except for a mere insult which (Y/n) could brush off and ignore.

"My apologies, Emperor… Empress." Arelius was quick to correct his error and add (Y/n)'s title to the end of his apology when Geta's head turned and his lips pursed into a thin line.

It was not Geta who he needed to be apologising to and if he couldn't be respectful then he needed to leave before he really got on Geta's dark side.

When Arelius backed up towards the corner of the room like a shamed child, (Y/n) glanced up at her husband. Her right hand slithered round to his lower back while her other hand pressed down on his chest as she twisted to face him. Her thumb brushed across his skin and she leaned her head forward into his chest, taking a quick moment to gather her senses and sink into Geta's unwavering embrace.

She felt his lips pressing against her temple and when she tilted her head back to look up at him, he stole a feverish kiss that managed to settle the anger that was still dwelling within him.

Maybe it was time for (Y/n) to depart. Perhaps it would be best if she left the meeting so no other disruptions were caused and they could conclude this meeting. She could meet with Geta afterwards and make sure this debacle was put behind them and reassure him that everything was as it should be.

(Y/n) didn't get the chance to offer a request to leave before she realised she was suddenly walking forwards rather than retreating towards the door. Geta's arm stayed firmly around her waist and he guided her back towards their seats. Back to where his brother was perched on the edge of the table with one leg crossed regally over the other and his hands tapping against his thighs while a smile lit up his face.

He liked confrontation and confliction. Caracalla feeded off the shockwaves and the high tension and he loved to see his twin assert dominance and show just how powerful the pair of them had become. They were the rulers, no one denied them anything or went against them. They would meet the end of a blade if they did.

"Your opinion is required to settle a debate, my love." Geta's words were murmured against the shell of (Y/n)'s ear and his hand feathered up and down her back as he sat down in his chair that was opposite the table. He had no want to stand next to the Senates, he would rather keep some space between them and simmer down.

When (Y/n) moved to try and take a seat beside him, both Geta's hands found her hips and he manovered her gently until she was perched down on his thigh instead. His arm secured around her waist so his hand could feather along her hip and he leant forward until his chin was settled neatly on her shoulder and his lips could attach to the crook of her neck.

He inhaled her scent like she was the air he needed to breathe and when his eyes diverted up to the Senates, they began their debate again.

(Y/n) moved her hands down to hold onto Geta's wrist and her cheek settled on top of his soft hair that felt like feathers tickling her skin. She could feel a point or two from his crown nestling against the base of her chin, but it was comforting rather than uncomfortable.

She loved it when Geta would wrap himself around her like this and want her as close as possible. And the way he held her and hummed into her neck showed he was happy- no, enthralled to be in her presence. He didn't think of (Y/n) as a hindrance like the Senator suggested.

She tried to focus on the way her husband was wrapped around her and how calm he was now that he was in her presence. This was why she had to stay at meetings like these.

How could she refuse when her place was right here by her husband's side?

After all, he was including her in discussions. He wanted her here and he valued her opinion, contrary to what some of the other men in this room might think. (Y/n) didn't want anyone to think badly of her when she had only just married Geta. And she wouldn't want them thinking that she didn't listen to her husband or that she liked to go against his wishes and leave when he wanted her there beside him.

Her place was here, and (Y/n) couldn't leave.

***

(Y/n) leaned her chin on her hand and began to tap her fingers against her cheek as she looked around the dome shaped room.

Another meeting.

The beginning of this meeting had been more fruitful than whatever seemed to be taking place now. For a while, (Y/n) had chipped in with an opinion and she had smiled and felt butterflies swarming through her stomach when Geta grinned proudly at her suggestions and wrote them down. She felt like she was making a bit of a difference and that her opinions were valued. At least by her husband and brother in law.

But now the meeting had turned sour. It wasn't just raised voices, it was arguments going back and forth between different people. The men seemed to have split into segments, little huddling groups arguing over vastly different ideas and topics that were making less and less sense the more they argued.

(Y/n) wanted to go. She wanted to walk out and go take Arla for a walk. She wished she had brought her faithful pet into this meeting, at least then she could have someone to focus on and something to take her mind off her growing panic.

She found her eyes diverting to Geta again when he grunted and slammed his hand down on the table. He wasn't happy. Whatever had been suggested to him was now cast to one side and completely overruled.

She heard him utter "Do shut up." To one of the Senates and as much as his gruff voice should have been off-putting, it made (Y/n) smile inwardly. There was a rough edge to his voice that made (Y/n) shiver.

He was a sight to behold when he took charge like this.

Her eyes didn't stay on him for very long when a group of three Senates began to argue loud enough to start a brawl between them. (Y/n) lifted her head off her hand and sat up straighter in her seat as she observed them with worried, narrowed eyes.

She wasn't sure what they were arguing about, but fingers were wagging and hands were clenching and one began to tut and toss his head back in annoyance.

Another groan vibrated at the back of Geta's throat and he tossed his head back when he heard the familiar voice of Horin starting up an argument. Why did all of these men have to argue like little children fighting over their toys? Could they not grow up and act like men?

Even Geta and Caracalla had never acted in this manner when they were little, although most of their childhood had been spent in rigid tutoring sessions. And fending off their father's unwarranted anger that was always unleashed unfairly onto the twins.

With one hand on the table in front of him, Geta slowly twisted on his heels and let his head loll to one side as he looked for the arguing gentlemen. One brow arched up and his red lips parted with a sigh. The unamused look in his eyes should have been enough to ward off the argument, but the men were taking no notice of him. They didn't seem to notice Caracalla huffing with growing irritation and his foot tapping against the floor.

Those men didn't even have the nerve to raise their opinions to the Emperors, they were arguing between themselves rather than talking calmly with the rest of the room. After all, they would need the Emperors to agree with them if they wanted their point to be taken seriously or their matter to be decided upon. They couldn't make any decisions themselves. That was why Geta and Caracalla were here.

"That's ludacris!" One of them shrieked, and his voice was loud and high enough in pitch to echo off the walls.

Geta took one step away from the table and squared his shoulders before his eyes were casting to the left. He saw the way (Y/n) flinched. Her arms coiled around her chest and she seemed to pull in on herself like she was trying to make herself small and compact or to disappear.

The clear discomfort on her features did something to Geta. It made something twist horribly in his gut and his usually neutral expression weakened for a moment as he looked at her.

He was torn between wanting to go over and dispell the argument and wanting to veer towards his wife and make sure she was alright. It was becoming apparent that distinct and loud noises were unsettling to her and Geta didn't want her to be in those kind of situations if she didn't need to be or if it was going to upset her.

He paused somewhere in between both directions when one of the Senates lashed his hand out and knocked a silver tray of glasses off the table. The bundle of glasses clattered to the floor and fractured into hundreds of sparkling pieces that glimmered in the midday sun and sprinkled across the stone floor.

The tray, however, bounced and each time it hit the stone and wavered back up into the air it caused a horrible thunder to crack through the room.

(Y/n) gasped. She couldn't help it. Her knees coiled up, her eyes snapped closed and her trembling hands moved to cup over her ears to preserve them and save them from the echoing thuds that were getting louder and sending shockwaves through her system.

Her back pressed into the chair and she shrank down as her nails scratched through her hair and into her scalp. She wanted them to stop. Why did they have to resort to lashing out when their arguments were getting them nowhere? Why couldn't they talk things out like calm, sensible men?

The way (Y/n) reacted sealed Geta's direction and had him turning towards her. He needed to remove her from this situation before she got upset, and he needed all of these idiots bundled up in this room to understand that this kind of behaviour wasn't acceptable.

He would have made it towards (Y/n), if it weren't for Arelius's voice that stopped Geta in his tracks and sent all his blood rushing to his head.

"The Empress is but a child; a hindrance."

Geta moved before anyone could blink. He thundered in (Y/n)'s direction but walked three feet past her chair to where Arelius was standing. Clearly he either hadn't anticipated the Emperor hearing his words or he thought Geta might agree with him. The nerve!'

But it was the movement of his right hand, gripping the sword on his waist that made all murmurs cease and had all eyes on them.

He removed the sword strapped to his waist and yeilded it expertly, twisting his wrist and thrusting forward until the end of the blade was pressing uncomfortably against Arelius's trachea. He used the blade to tilt Arelius's head back until his neck was pressing out and showing off his Adam's apple and each gulp of air he took was visible to everyone in the room.

Nobody moved. Not a single word was uttered as they all waited in anticipation and slight horror to see what the Emperor would do.

Intrigue pooled in Caracalla's eyes as he pushed forward from the table he was leaning against, being the first person in the room to make a move. Although he didn't move far. He walked until he was stood beside (Y/n)'s chair almost as if he were acting as a guard for her. His head inclined to one side and a smile lit up his face, showing off his golden tooth as he watched his twin.

He was eager to see what Geta would do and if he would be the first Emperor to spill blood during a political meeting like this. Caracalla would certainly cheer him on and back him up if that was what his brother wanted to do.

"Out."

That one word seethed past Geta's lips as his chest rose and fell like the tides crashing against the shore. It felt like his lungs were going to burst and each breath was physically paining him. It was like Geta was controlling all of the rage inside of him and it was putting pressure on each and every organ within him. His stomach was churning. His heart was desperately trying to break free and wrap itself around (Y/n) and his nerves were twisting themselves into knots.

"I- I-"

"Emperor-" Whoever it was that tried to step in to dissolve the situation clamped their mouth shut immediately when Caracalla sneered at them. His brother didn't need any help sorting out this situation. The Emperors were in charge and they could serve out any punishment and give any command they saw fit.

"Out. Before the hilt is buried in your throat." To prove his point, Geta clenched his hand tighter around the blade and pushed until the tip of the sword began to scratch into Arelius's neck.

The sharp blade easily cut through the first few layers of skin and had a slow trickle of blood slithering directly down his throat and soaking into the pale cream robes he was wearing.

If he wanted his life to be spared then Arelius needed to back away and leave the room before Geta changed his mind. Because it was becoming more and more desirable to thrust his sword through the Senate's throat and watch it carve out the other side.

But he didn't want to do that; not in front of (Y/n). Not when Geta knew seeing blood being shed by his own hands would not push his wife into his open arms. He didn't want to do anything that would push her away or upset her any further. Geta never wanted to do that.

When Arelius stepped back and slowly removed his throat from being pressed into the blade, he watched how Geta's arm stayed locked in place. Holding his threat that he was one second away from following through with.

Arelius pressed his palm against his throat, gasping and swallowing heavily as he turned on his heels and departed the room like a mutt with its tail between its legs.

Once he was gone and the doors were swung wide open in his wake, Geta finally moved. His movements felt stiff and broken as he thrust his sword back into the belt strapped around his waist and he turned in his wife's direction.

She no longer had her hands clasped over her ears, but she was starting to shake and her eyes were focused on the floor like she was too afraid to look up and see the faces of all the people staring at them. At her.

Shivers coursed up and down (Y/n)'s spine and she gasped when Geta's hand was suddenly enveloped around her own and he pulled her to her feet. Her free hand curled around his arm and she hurriedly smothered her face into his arm and glued herself into his side like she wished she could use Geta as a shield to hide herself from everyone in this room.

"This meeting is over." Geta's voice was rugged and his jaw clenched tight as he steered (Y/n) towards the doors.

He wasn't waiting around to finish this rather pointless meeting. If no one could be civil and talk like adults rather than petty children then this wasn't going ahead. And Geta certainly wasn't sitting around and waiting for this to finish when (Y/n) was upset and needed to leave.

(Y/n) closed her eyes and meshed her face into the back of Geta's shoulder, allowing him to steer her down the hall and up the stairs. She didn't have to open her eyes to know where he was taking her. Their room. He wanted to talk and he wasn't doing that until they were in the privacy of their room with no prying ears trying to listen in.

She could feel each deep, ragged breath Geta took as he stormed up the stairs and practically kicked their chamber door open.

When he led her inside, (Y/n) slowly unravelled her hands from his arm and retracted from his side so she could sit down on the end of their bed. Her feet began to tap and jitter against the floor and her hands quickly fisted into her dress and her nails began to scratch up and down her knees.

Was Geta angry with her? Did he think she had caused a scene? Did he think she was a hindrance like the rest of his council seemed to believe?

"I'm sorry… I- I didn't mean to interrupt the meeting." (Y/n) kept her eyes cast down on her hands that were almost shaking as she scratched deeply into her knees to try and gain some control over her bubbling emotions. She didn't want to cry and she didn't want to seem weak, but Arelius's recent words had cut deep.

Her teeth sank down into her lower lip in a desperate attempt to keep a stoic expression on her face and keep any tears at bay. But her eyes went round when Geta's hand suddenly pressed beneath her chin and her head was tilted back to look up at him.

He stood in front of her, close enough that he was pressing up against her legs and his chin was aimed down so he could look down on her properly. But the way Geta's thumb traced her chin and reached up to brush along her lower lip had (Y/n) at a loss for words.

"What on God's Earth are you sorry for? It is Arelius who should be apologising to you."

(Y/n) didn't have a response to that. She wasn't sure what she was supposed to say. Arelius had been cruel but his words had worried (Y/n). She worried she was becoming a hindrance, that Geta might regret marrying her or think she was weak or being silly or that she was interfering like Arelius had previously suggested. She would never want Geta to think of her like that.

"But you- you don't believe that I'm in the way, or need supervising, do you?"

The rage that seeped into Geta's eyes made (Y/n) want to cower down, but she knew that it wasn't directed at her. He wasn't angry with her. He was furious that someone would have suggested such a thing and made (Y/n) feel that way when there was absolutely no truth to the matter whatsoever.

Her eyes followed him as he seemed to debate whether to start pacing up and down the room or to sit beside her. He chose to sit down, against his better judgement considering how riled up he was now beginning to feel. His hand reached across to clasp around (Y/n)'s and when she leaned her head on his shoulder, Geta twisted to merge his lips with the top of her head.

"I don't believe that for a moment, my love." He murmured as he began to stroke his thumb up and down the back of her hand.

It was clear Geta was pushing the subject of Arelius to one side. He didn't want to upset (Y/n) any further and he would soon have a word with his brother and see what they could do to deal with this traitor and make an example of him. Because Geta wouldn't allow anyone else to think they could talk to (Y/n) like this or upset her.

He would try and push those thoughts to the back of his mind until he was in his brother's company. For now, he would focus on his wife and making sure that she was okay and happy.

"But you do not enjoy these meetings, do you?"

(Y/n) nudged her nose against Geta's shoulder, debating her answer and how truthful she wanted to be. "No, I don't. That room echoes, everything is too loud and their yells and anger are unnecessary; I don't like their shouts."

Anything such as those meetings or public events where they had to stand before a rowding crowd was unsettling. The games were even worse as the colosseum seemed to amplify any noise tenfold and deafen every spectator. (Y/n) didn't know how her husband could laugh and thrive in such environments as those.

"You don't have to attend any further meetings, my love." Geta's words clearly confused (Y/n) for she lifted her head from his shoulder with narrowed eyes and pursed lips.

"But… but I should attend, it's my place-"

"Your place is always by my side, but I won't have you somewhere you don't feel comfortable. The Senate can't refuse if I excuse you from any and all further meetings you do not wish to attend."

If Geta told his council and the Senates that (Y/n) was not to attend any further meetings, that should be the end of it. They had no authority to question him or ask why or demand that (Y/n) attend. In the back of his mind Geta knew none of those fools would demand (Y/n) be at the meetings, they never asked her opinions, even if they thought what she said was credible once Geta asked for her advice.

They wouldn't bat an eyelid if she weren't there, although they would ask why. They could ask, but they wouldn't receive any response. Geta didn't have to explain any of his rulings to them, he answered to no one. Not even the Gods.

"You won't think bad of me?"

"Never. And anyone who questions your absence will meet their fate by my blade."

The feeling of his hand cupping her face was electrifying and when he tilted her head back so their lips could meet, his touch was heavenly. No one would question this and no one would have the right to make any comments. And Geta certainly wouldn't think bad of her.

He only wished for her happiness, and he would do whatever was in his power to make that happen.

[grugruel]

Not sure if this is where we can send in requests but you write so beautifully I truly cannot get over it.

Would it be possible to request a smut fic with Viktor from Arcane? Either way cannot wait to read your next fics 🩵

You really found the way to my heart with your kind words because I immediately had to write something for you🥹 I intended for it to be shorter, but it got away from me. I hope you like it!

Keeping Him Company

Pairings: Viktor x f!reader

MDNI/NSFW

Masterlist

Summary: Viktor is still getting used to solitude after Jayce started down the public road.

So when you offer to keep him company, he gladly takes you up on it.

Wordcount: 3k

Warnings: fluff, angst ish, friends to lovers, pinv sex, cowgirl, oral sex (f receiving), feelings, plot with porn.

AN: Viktor is not a shy man, and I will die on that hill😭

"Dont you wish to be up there with him?"

Light spilled through a gap in the tall curtains, partly illuminating a man in hiding.

"It is not my within my talent," he said and slanted his lips, a thick accent curving his pronunciation.

The girl approached him, walking along the shadows edge. She was clad in a red and white ensamble, mirroring his own. "Everything is within your talent."

Casting a wistful glance at his leg, he doubted her words. "A simple misscalculation, im afraid. He shines, I do not . . ."

Booming from mighty speakers was the man of progress, holding a speech in front of thousands of people. The brief breaks to collect his breath allowed for them to hear the audience's reaction, and the collective whispers of expectant folk rolled through the crowd in waves.

She stopped next to him, hands clasped infront of her. "You're uninterested in the attention." She pitched her voice at the end, framing the statement as a question. Suspecting she already knew the answer.

"I do not enjoy it," he shrugged. "I prefer the practical part of our work."

"The solitude?"

He looked up at her, having had to sit down at some point during their conversation. The promise of dark circles had begun taking form beneath his eyes, painting a tired look onto his face.

"Hmm . . . The quiet if anything, I think. I've found myself in solitude more often than not since Jayce started handling the . . . public aspects," he explained and gestured broadly with one hand, encompassing the local. The entirety Piltover too, she imagined.

"You're happy with that?"

Bobbing his head from side to side, he could not agree nor disagree. "I like quiet, but I prefer the company. Jayce makes good company."

"Well," she began and reached out to him, pinching a piece of wild hair between her fingertips and arranged it back into shape with the rest of his dark waves. "If you find yourself in unwanted solitude, you can always send for me, Viktor. If nothing else, I might be able to help in the lab," she smiled. It was her specialty, after all.

They'd been friends since they enrolled in the academy, but learning under Heimerdinger rarely allowed them time to see eachother.

Straightening his cane, he heaved himself back on his feet.

She would offer him help, but knew it wouldn't be too appreciated.

Leaning on the support, the stream of light escaping the stage colored his face and set it aglow with warmth. "Thank you, . . ." he called her name and smiled. "I might do that."

He was a strong mind in a blighted body. The brightest often were.

-

It was late the next day when she'd gotten a message from Viktor.

Pushing the tall door open, the setting sun painted the spacious workroom in a dim golden light. On first inspection, one could've thought it abandoned. Books were strewn on every available surface, opened or stacked. Dust had already managed to settle on a few, and she guessed that they'd been deemed irrelevant to the two men's work at some point, then simply forgotten to time and unpaced space. "Viktor?" She called out.

"Over here," a thick accent answered. Venturing further inside, she found him by the colossal windows that held a view Piltover. To the side was a blackboard with rows upon rows of calculations. "Please, take a seat." He smiled and gestured toward one of the few chairs that were free of piling notes. "I'd like to show you what I have been working on."

-

And so the evening spilled into dusk, and dusk poured into night. There was nothing now but the dark sky and starlight illuminating the two of them.

"It is not correct," he tapped the chalk against the board and sighed, highlighting a specific problem to her eyes. He'd asked for her thoughts at some point, and ever since the two had been going back and forth trying to solve one particularly stubborn equation.

Settling down on the chair that she had long abandoned, Viktor wrapped his hands over the cane's handle and rested his chin on top. Exhausted eyes studied the same scribbles he'd gone over and over a hundred times before.

In unisome, they sighed.

Knowing glances were thrown each other's way, luring a chuckle from the both of them and gratefully releasing some of their tension. "Thank you, for lending me your mind this evening."

Pursing her lips, she moved in front of him and settled against the worktable. He was still facing the board, pondering the solution, and allowing her to look at him unabashedly. The strong jaw and sharp cheekbones, that pretty little mole above his lip and his perfectly half-wild hair. "I had a good time," she shrugged. "I should be the one thanking you." Unable to help herself, she leaned forward and placed a soft kiss on that angled cheekbone of his. "So, thank you, Viktor," she murmured.

Pushing herself to her feet, she reached out to grab her things, then moved to leave.

But a hand grabbed her wrist before she had the chance. "Thank you for keeping me company, . . ." Viktor said, voice sliding lower with each word until her name spilled from his lips in a whisper.

Her eyes switched between his, attempting to determine if there was an ulterior meaning his words. Looking down at their hands, she noticed his thumb stroking the thin skin at her wrist. Clearing her throat, she swallowed. "You didn't invite me here just to theorise, did you, Viktor?"

He followed her gaze and inspected the hand he held in his. "I like the quiet," he said, gently toying with her fingers. Running along their length, he absentmindedly bent and straightened them as he carefully thought about the next words to leave his lips. "But it seems, I prefer you." His fingers slid between her own, lacing them together.

Stepping closer to him, she cupped the sharp angles of his cheek. Giving him no other choice then to look up at her with those big, rounded eyes. "Are you telling me I'm loud?" She teased.

"No," Viktor smirked and let his cane slip to the floor, prioritising holding her hips. "But I would like to find out." He put pressure behind his hands, pushing her back onto the tabletop behind her. "Take those off, please." He nodded his chin at her suitpants, then leaned back in his chair.

Smiling, she did as asked and a little bit more, leaving her in nothing but her undergarments.

His eyes trailed over her body, along the curves of her breasts and lace covered mound. Without a word, he moved the chair to face her, hands sliding up her calfs until they hooked beneath her knees and pulled her to the edge of the table.

"Viktor, you don't have to-" she began, rather putting in work for both of them so he could avoid further strain on his body.

But desperate to be of use, to do it himself, he insisted. "I want to," he assured, wrapping a hand around the back of her thigh and squeezed. "Please . . . Let me."

Hesitantly, she nodded her head in compact motions. Willing to please him, but needing him to please her more.

Placing one hand behind her, she braced her weight against the table while her other hand brushed stray strands from his eyes. Combing it back, she burried her fingers in his thick waves. "Okay," she whispered.

What followed was a satisfied smirk and an eager lips trailing kisses along her inner thigh. He made quick work of her panties, then paused. Looking up, brown irises locked with her own as he hovered an inch from her heat. Then suddenly burried his face between her thighs before she'd gotten a second to breathe.

"Fuck-" she moaned, head falling back in bliss as Viktor worked his glorious wonders. An experienced tongue thrust into her core and lapped at her wetness, closing his eyes and humming throughout as if tasting heaven itself. "You taste very sweet, darling," he murmured against her, damp breath fanning against her core and sending shivers up her spine, doing nothing but further spurr her arousal on.

Sinking his teeth into the flesh of her inner thigh, he looked up at her, finding the entire city at her back, framing her exalted form. Behind her quivering shoulders ran the horizon, the night sky painting her into a saint as it formed like a halo around her head. Watching her heaving chest and panthing mouth was enough to make a man believe in powers greater than science.

And he wouldnt relent, when seeing the reaction his mere tongue could cause. He couldn't give her mercy, and he could not give her another second to collect herself lest her climax strayed too far away.

Without warning, he slid his tongue up her folds, collecting her arousal only to swallow with groan. Before she could gasp, he'd already slipped back between her thighs. Aternating between soft kisses and gentle nipping, he turned her into a whimpering mess. In a final act, he latched onto her clit, sucking and circling with fervour. Tears of pleasure rolled down her cheeks as her fingers curled into a fist, pulling on his hair as she held on for dear life.

But all he did was whine from her taste and the pressure on his scalp, whine from the growing unpleasantry in his pants as he devoured his dinner and licked his plate clean. "Pretty," he murmued, and she opened her eyes to look at him.

One quivering body- and an arched back later, she laid back against the tabletop, fighting hard to catch her breath.

Looking back, she glimpsed Piltover. She saw thousands of lights illuminating homes, she saw the sky and the glimmering stars. But she couldn't be sure if it was reality or hallucinations of eyes recovering from a tumultuous orgasm.

Moving up, she braced on her forearms, surveying Viktor's own state. He'd circled his arms around her calves and laid his head in the valley between her thighs, kissing and whispering sweet nothings against her skin. Thumbs stroked soothing circles into her plush flesh whenever his mind reminded him. "Thank you," he whispered and kissed her. "Thank you," he repeated over and over again.

"Thank me when we're done," she exhaled, adoring the way his reaction to making her come was gratitude, for letting him bring her to completion. "Chair or bed?" She asked, already planning their next endeavour. "I want to please you too."

Blinking, he considered. An uncertain smile twitching in the corner of his lips. "Our rooms are far," he murmured, glancing down at his leg. Self-consciousness was never something he displayed, never did he complain or bring it up. In his mind, he wanted to prove that there was nothing wrong with him, that he could withstand and surpass.

Although she understood, although she empathized with him, she did not see the need. A dent in a machine did not change its capability, but it could bump the risk of deterioration. "We all need help sometimes, Viktor," she combed through his hair, scratching and brushing his scalp in turns. Sliding a finger down his face, she placed it beneath his chin, tilting his face to meet hers. "Some hardships are more visible than others, but that should not affect the view people have of you. It certainly won't affect mine," she whispered and brushed her thumb along his upper lip, fingertip gently dotting the mole above, and then followed his cheekbone up to his temble. "But, it's your decision, whatever you're comfortable with," she assured, rubbing circles into his temple.

Burrying his face in her thigh, he sighed and nodded, untamed hair scratching her skin pleasantly. "Yes." Viktor sat back and reached for her hands, clasping them in his own. "My room it is," he smiled and kissed up her knuckles, palm and wrist.

-

She'd never been sure if the professor's assistant got a fancier room then the other students. But standing inside it, she could confirm it was bigger at the very least.

"We were outside of the workshop when miss Medarda found us," Viktor explained as he closed the door behind them.

"No! What did she say?" She snickered, eager to hear the following as shd vetured into his room, examining some of the knicks and knacks he had laying around.

Leaning on his cane, he scrathed his chin. "I do not remember," he said, and then a blush rose to his cheeks, staining them a pretty, pale red. "I believe I paniced and told the councillor that I had gotten the rooms wrong."

Raising an eyebrow, she sauntered back to him, already questioning how the story would end. "And which room was that?" She asked, toying with his collar.

Viktor cleared his throat. "Jayce's," he chuckled, thumb rubbing the handle of his cane. "Miss Medarda had little trust in my excuse."

Her lips pulled into a thin line as she met his eyes, making a worthy attempt at with-holding her laughter. "At least it turned out well in the end," she managed, fingers working to unlace his west as she backed toward the bed, pulling him with her.

"Yes," he said and re-removed her shirt, getting the satisfaction of pulling it over her head this time. "I would like to think so."

Sliding his west down his shoulders, she began unbuttoning the red fabric beneath, where she found another piece of his engineering. She traced the clever contraption with wonder. Softly admiring the skill and ingenuity he'd put into it.

Looking up to ask him about it, she found his expression close to discomfort. He looked vulnerable, like it was a piece of himself he rarely showed anyone else unless he had to.

Smiling softly, she met his gaze with a slanted head. "It's crafted brilliantly," she recognized his hard work while studying the detailing. "It's a-"

"Brace." There was note of resignation in his tone. "My back, it is . . ." He trailed off, looking away.

She sighed silently, hating that he couldn't see his own beauty the way she did. "It's beautiful, Viktor. Truly. It suits you." She ran a finger along the strap over his shoulder. "We can keep the shirt if you'd prefer it."

"No," he said and began taking the shirt off, struggling as he only had one available hand. Sensing irritation, she cupped his jaw, gathering his attention. She watched his face soften, honoured by his trust in her. Then brushed her hands down his throat and shoulders, tracing his collarbone before sliding over his shoulders and beanth the fabric, helping it fall to the floor. Viktor turned them around and moved onto to bed without another word.

She smiled to herself, instantly shy by his sudden confidence. Crawling after him, she straddled his lap, careful not to put too much weight on his leg.

"I am not ready, to . . . Remove the other, yet," he murmured, no longer as resigned when talking about his condition. "I am afraid the pants must stay on, for the moment."

"Thats okay," she nodded softly, connecting their foreheads. "I don't mind." She placed her hands on his chest, feeling his skin beneath her palms. She brushed them down his arms until she found his hands and laced them together with her own, and her lips inched closer to his.

For a while, they settled in this new position. Simply enjoying the moment of newfound feelings and fragility, inhaling one another's scent and sharing the air between them.

Viktor tilted his head to the side, moving closer until their mouths were ghosts upon the other. With parted lips, he crept ever closer, patiently testing the waters. Then, softly, they closed around her bottom lip. With a unified exhale, she kissed him back. She could very faintly taste herself on him.

Together, they could focus on nothing but the softness of the other and the frequency of their breaths. When their lust filled lungs could no longer expell air through their mouths, their noses had to take up the slack. Somehow, adding on to the intimacy between them. In this second in time, they were two souls with lungs filling of emotion, ramping up the speed in which they needed to act.

With no other way for the feelings to go, the eagerness in their lips had to carry them out.

Laced together, she moved his hands to her body, giving him free range to wander while her own traveled downward and found the buttons of his pants. "Is this still alright?" She murmured in-between kisses.

"Yes, please," he answered, his own hands undoing her bra. Then there suddenly was the sound of skin on skin as he slid his hands back around her ribs and cupped her breasts.

With a gasp from his touch, she got the buttons open. Reaching down, she pulled his member out.

He'd been fully hard since they'd left the workshop, and intending to finally put him out of his misery, she spread the pre-cum leaking from his tip and circled it gently. Earning her a soft whimper.

Placing one hand on his chest, she lined him up with the other. Pushing him back against the bed and quickly followed suit herself, wetting the tip in her core.

"Please," he begged, hands moving to cup her face, pulling her back for another kiss. "Please." He introduced their tongues and let them explore each other's mouths. Finally, she carefully slid down his length. Resulting in a shprt break from their kiss through the unisome gasp.

As she began to move, to rut her her hips into his. The kiss became needier and needier until their teeth were clashing and breathing rapid.

She angled her hips so her clit could be stimulated against his mound. She released a breathless whimper at the sensation, but earned a twitch from the member inside her and a grin from the man beneath her. "Glorious woman," he moaned, moving to kiss her jaw and neck. His hands slipping from her face to her hips and ass, squeezing and encouraging her ruts with help from his wrists.

From the several points of pleasure he made for her, she was already closing in on her second orgasm. Straightening up, she put both hands on his chest and used him as support to move in longer bounds around his inches. "That alright?" She asked, imagining nothing worse than to cause him

"Yes, y-yes. Mmh . . . M' close," he managed. Observing her on top of him did nothing to ease the matter, and he hissed from what his thoughts of her alone could muster.

Grinding down harder, jolts of electricity shot through her body. Their combined sounds of pleasure along with the sensations they caused had them both close to their limit.

Closing her eyes, the night sky began forming beneath her eyeslids. Her entire body felt much the same, static sizzled in every nerve as the pressure came close to releasing.

"Look at me," Viktor said with a breathless voice. Fingers clawing at her back and waist with a non existent sharpness.

Taking a deep breath she closed the distance between them once again, and opened her eyes.

This time, she could see the stars reflected in his eyes. His hand wrapped around the back of her neck, bringing her head against his, and allowed their lips to meet one last time before they spilled over the edge. Viktor quite literally, as he filled her up with his seed.

With no strength left in her body, she collapsed. Yet, still taking care to place her weight on her side rather than his torso, along with her legs settling between his rather than on top.

"Thank you," he whispered, lips finding her temple as she rested next to him. "For keeping me company."

"It was my pleasure, Viktor," she chuckled. "I hope we can do it again."

"Yes, I would like that," he nodded. "I really care for you, . . ." He whispered her name. "I think, perhaps-"

"I care for you too," she stopped him. "Let's let things happen in their own time, okay?"

"Okey," he smiled, scratching her nape.

As their euphoria began wearing of and sleep caught up, her mind could not settle. "Viktor," she murmured.

"Mmh?" He answered, already drowsing of.

"I maybe think so, too."

[moonlightwritingf1]

The Snowstorm Argument | LN4

°❆⛄⋆.ೃ࿔🦌*:･❄️ summary ━━━━━━━ Y/N and Lando go to a cabin to reconnect, but his constant phone use for work frustrates her. After a tense argument, Y/N feels ignored. After a heartfelt conversation, Lando promises to make her a priority, and they start to heal their relationship.

°❆⛄⋆.ೃ࿔🦌*:･❄️ pairing ━━━━━━━ Lando Norris x she!reader

°❆⛄⋆.ೃ࿔🦌*:･❄️ word count ━━━━━━━ 1.4k

The hum of the car engine was steady, almost hypnotic, as the tires crunched over the snowy road. Outside, the world looked like a winter postcard: endless stretches of trees blanketed in white, their branches drooping under the weight of fresh snow. The narrow road twisted through the forest, the dim light of the overcast sky casting long shadows that danced across the windshield.

Inside the car, the atmosphere was anything but serene.

Y/N sat stiffly in the passenger seat, her arms crossed over her chest, her gaze fixed out the window. The seat heater hummed beneath her, but it did little to thaw the chill that had settled between her and Lando. She’d been looking forward to this trip for weeks, clinging to the hope that a weekend away in a remote cabin might offer the reconnection they desperately needed.

But the constant buzz of his phone had started the moment they left the city and hadn’t stopped since.

“Are you serious, Lando?” she finally muttered, her voice tight.

He glanced at her briefly, his phone in one hand and the steering wheel in the other. “What?” he asked, his tone more distracted than defensive.

“Your phone,” she said, gesturing toward the glowing screen. “You’ve been on it the entire drive.”

“It’s work,” he replied, as if that excused everything.

“It’s always work,” she snapped, unable to hide her frustration.

He sighed, his thumb still scrolling through an email. “You know how it is, Y/N. Things don’t just stop because I decide to take a weekend off. This is just... part of my life. You knew that when we got together.”

Her stomach twisted at his words. “I knew it would be demanding,” she said, her voice low but trembling. “But I didn’t think it would mean I’d have to compete with your phone every second of the day.”

“I’m not asking you to compete,” he said, his tone tinged with impatience.

“Then stop making me feel like I have to,” she shot back.

The sharpness in her voice caught him off guard, and for a moment, he glanced over at her, really looking at her. The tension in her posture, the way her jaw was set, the hurt flickering in her eyes. But instead of addressing it, he sighed again and turned his focus back to the road.

The cabin came into view as the snow began to fall harder, large flakes swirling in the wind and obscuring the outlines of the small, wooden structure nestled among the pines. Y/N felt a flicker of relief at the sight of it, hoping the warmth inside would somehow thaw the icy distance between them.

Lando parked the car and turned off the engine, finally setting his phone down in the cupholder. “We’re here,” he announced, his voice lighter, as if the tension from the drive could be erased with those two words.

Y/N didn’t reply. She grabbed her bag from the back seat and stepped out into the cold, the wind biting at her cheeks as she trudged toward the cabin door.

“Y/N?” Lando called after her, his confusion evident.

She ignored him, focusing instead on unlocking the door and stepping inside. The warmth of the cabin wrapped around her instantly, the faint smell of pine and woodsmoke filling the air. She dropped her bag near the door and turned to find him standing just inside, brushing snow off his jacket.

“What’s going on?” he asked, his brows furrowed.

“What’s going on?” she repeated, her voice rising slightly. “Are you seriously asking me that, Lando?”

“Yeah, I am,” he replied, his frustration beginning to show. “You’ve been in a mood the whole drive, and now you’re storming off. What did I do?”

Her laugh was sharp and humorless. “What did you do? You spent the entire drive glued to your phone, barely even acknowledging that I was sitting next to you.”

“I was working,” he said, as if that explained everything.

“This was supposed to be about us,” she said, her voice trembling. “About getting away from everything. Reconnecting. But you couldn’t even make it two hours without checking your phone.”

“I didn’t have a choice!” he argued, throwing his hands up. “You don’t get it, Y/N. If I don’t stay on top of things, everything falls apart. It’s not like I enjoy being glued to my phone, but this is my life. It’s my job.”

“And what about me, Lando?” she shot back, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. “What about our life? Our relationship? Where do I fit into all of this?”

“You fit,” he said, his voice softer now, almost pleading. “You do.”

“Then why does it feel like I’m always playing second to everything else?” she asked, her voice cracking. “To your career, your team, your fans... even your phone.”

He opened his mouth to reply, but no words came out. Her accusation struck a chord he wasn’t ready to confront, and for a moment, the only sound in the cabin was the howling wind outside.

“I thought you understood,” he said finally, his voice barely above a whisper.

“I thought I did too,” she replied, wiping away a tear. “But I’m starting to wonder if you do.”

The argument simmered into an uneasy silence. Y/N turned away, her chest tight as she busied herself unpacking groceries in the small kitchen. Each item she placed on the counter felt like a distraction, a futile attempt to hold herself together.

Lando stood by the fireplace, staring at the unlit logs as if they held the answers to everything. He ran a hand through his curls, his frustration and guilt warring inside him.

Outside, the snowstorm raged on, the wind battering against the windows and piling snow high against the cabin walls.

Hours later, Y/N sat on the couch, her knees tucked under a blanket as she stared into the fire. The flames danced and flickered, their warmth soothing her body but doing little to calm her mind. Lando sat in the armchair across from her, his phone abandoned on the kitchen counter.

“I don’t know how to fix this,” he said suddenly, his voice breaking the silence.

She looked at him, startled by the vulnerability in his tone. His elbows rested on his knees, his head bowed slightly as if he couldn’t bear to meet her eyes.

“I don’t want to keep hurting you,” he continued, his voice low. “But I don’t know how to be what you need. I feel like I’m failing you.”

Her chest ached at the raw honesty in his words. She shifted on the couch, her voice soft when she finally spoke. “I’m not asking you to have all the answers, Lando. I just need to feel like I matter. Like we matter.”

“You do,” he said, lifting his head to look at her. His blue-green eyes were earnest, filled with a desperation she hadn’t seen before. “You matter more than anything. I just... I don’t always know how to show it.”

She hesitated, searching his face for any sign of insincerity. But all she saw was a man who was trying, even if he didn’t always get it right.

“I’m not asking for perfection,” she said finally. “I’m asking for effort. For presence. For you to show me that I’m not just an afterthought in your life.”

He nodded, his jaw tightening as he processed her words. “You’re not an afterthought. You’re... you’re everything, Y/N. And I know I don’t always act like it, but I’m going to do better. I swear.”

She studied him for a long moment, her heart aching with a mix of love and frustration. “I want to believe you, Lando. I really do. But it’s hard when—”

“I’ll prove it to you,” he interrupted, his voice firm. “Not just this weekend. Not just with words. I’ll show you that you come first. That we come first.”

The intensity in his gaze made her throat tighten. She wanted to believe him—wanted to believe that things could change.

“Okay,” she said softly, the word trembling on her lips.

He moved to sit beside her on the couch, his hand reaching for hers. When their fingers intertwined, the warmth of his touch sent a shiver through her.

“I love you, Y/N,” he said, his voice breaking slightly. “More than anything. And I’ll do whatever it takes to make you believe that.”

Her heart swelled at his words, and for the first time all day, the tension in her chest began to ease.

“I love you too,” she whispered, leaning into him.

The fire crackled softly as he wrapped an arm around her, pulling her close. Outside, the snowstorm continued to rage, but inside the cabin, the warmth between them finally began to grow.

[shrimpisdrawing]

My Sonic and Shadow designs for @phoenixesse ‘s Sonic Big Bang 2025 fic, ‘Look At Me (You Cast Two Shadows Down the Road)’ !!

I wanted to post these bc (despite changing them a bit in my final piece) I’m really proud of them teehee

Go check out the other artists @aknightspromise and @peskypixel work! I know you wanna >:3c

[yappaccinocookie]

my heart is swelling...

Cookies of your choice, and how they deal with being inlove!!

hehehe... I sneaked in clover and espresso, because I love them. I also did other characters, so that its fair! I wrote more than 6, because espresso and vclovr are the extras. I proofread this once.

LOWERCASE INTENDED!!

Espresso —

espresso cookie doesn’t have time for distractions, or so he tells himself. love? utterly impractical. yet, there he is, grinding beans with just a little more care, his thoughts swirling like freshly brewed coffee. he’s convinced that if he ignores the fluttering in his dough, it’ll go away.

spoiler: it doesn’t... oop tough luck, work monster!

he tries to intellectualize it, of course. he analyzes every interaction, every fleeting glance, like it’s a formula waiting to be solved. but when you smile at him, that confident exterior of his crumbles faster than a poorly baked biscotti. “you’re being ridiculous,” he mutters to himself one night, staring at his notes. but instead of equations, all he’s written is your name in the margins.

Madeline —

madeleine cookie is a romantic through and through, and being in love simply adds to his already dramatic attitude. he is the sort to express his emotions in large, sweeping sentences, his voice ringing like a bell. "you are the light that illuminates my road!" he will say, his eyes full of love. (how corny... hes hopeless) however, despite the theatrics, madeleine's love is genuine. he is very attentive, seeing details about you that others might overlook. if you are down, he will go out of his way to make you feel better, even if it means embarrassing himself.

one afternoon, while the two of you sit under a tree, he gives you a flower crown he fashioned himself. "it is not ideal," he says, his typical confidence replaced by a rare vulnerability. he states that he's your "knight and shining armor." how precious!!

Almond —

almond cookie doesn’t know how to deal with feelings outside of his detective work. love isn’t something he’s ever had to investigate, so when he realizes he’s in love with you, it throws him off balance. he tries to rationalize it, telling himself it’s just a passing thought or a distraction he doesn’t need. but the truth is, you’ve taken up permanent residence in his mind.

he doesn’t go for grand gestures; instead, his love comes through in the small, practical ways he cares for you. he’ll make sure you’re safe, double-checking locks or walking you home without asking. his words are gruff, but his actions speak louder. one evening, as you sit together in his office, the warm light of the desk lamp casting shadows across his face, he looks at you with an uncharacteristic softness. “you’re important to me,” he mutters, almost too quiet to hear. for almond cookie, that’s as close to a confession as it gets. (classy and cute !)

Redvelvet —

red velvet cookie is used to keeping people at arm’s length, so falling in love with you catches him completely off guard. he tries to act like it doesn’t bother him, but his usually stoic demeanor starts to crack. he finds himself doing things he never thought he would, like going out of his way to make sure you’re comfortable or safe.

he’s not great with words, but his actions speak volumes. if you’re ever in danger, he’ll be the first to step in, his claws flashing as he defends you. one day, as the two of you sit together in the quiet of the night, he finally lets his walls down. “you make things... easier,” he admits, his voice low but steady. it’s not much, but coming from red velvet, it’s everything.

Eclair —

eclair cookie approaches love with the same curiosity and reverence he reserves for ancient artifacts. he finds himself studying you, trying to understand the way his heart skips a beat when you’re near. he’s not one for impulsive actions, so he takes his time, letting his feelings grow like a carefully cultivated garden.

he’ll use his knowledge as an excuse to spend time with you, sharing stories of his research or showing you his latest discoveries. one day, as he hands you a beautifully preserved relic, he says, “this reminded me of you.” his voice is steady, but there’s a hint of nervousness in his eyes. for eclair, love is the greatest mystery of all, and he’s determined to treasure it.

Financer —

financier cookie approaches love with the same discipline and determination she applies to everything else in her life. wen she realizes she’s in love with you, she treats it like a mission, vowing to protect and care for you with everything she has. she’s not one for flowery words or grand gestures, but her loyalty is unwavering.

she’ll go out of her way to make sure you’re safe and comfortable, even if it means sacrificing her own needs. one day, as the two of you stand together on a hill overlooking the kingdom, she turns to you with a rare softness in her eyes. “you are my greatest responsibility,” she says, her voice steady but filled with emotion. for financier cookie, love is a promise, and she intends to keep it.

Dark Choco —

dark choco cookie doesn’t know what to do with love. it’s not something he’s ever allowed himself to feel, not with the weight of his past pressing down on him. when he realizes he’s in love with you, his first instinct is to push you away. he tells himself it’s for your own good, that someone like him doesn’t deserve someone like you. bt no matter how hard he tries, he can’t stop himself from gravitating toward you.

he doesn’t say much, but his actions speak louder than words. he’ll stand guard over you without you even realizing it, his sword at the ready for any threat. one evening, as the two of you sit in silence by a dying campfire, he finally speaks. “you make me want to be better,” he says, his voice low and rough. it’s not a declaration of love, but it’s the closest he’s ever come to letting someone into his heart.

Clover —

clover cookie falls in love like a song slowly coming together, each note more beautiful than the last. he’s a hopeless romantic, penning ballads inspired by you without even realizing it.

he finds himself humming melodies when you’re around, his quill moving almost on its own as he writes lyrics that capture the way your laughter feels like sunshine.

one day, you catch him practicing a song, your name woven delicately into the verses. “it’s just a draft,” he says, his cheeks dusted with powdered sugar, but the look in his eyes tells you it’s more than that.

[greengoblinswifey]

i was the one that asked if you writw dark stuff. and tysm for replying, you are so incredibly sweet💕🎀

So, could you write a dark fanfic with Nicholas or Father Charlie (you choose lol) with noncon and maybe dv? like, reader meets him and one of her family members owns him something and he like? uses her instead? if thats okay, could u do it rlly darkkk?

tysm and ily!!! 💕💞

Nicholas Chavez x Fem!Reader

summary— your father fucked nicholas over and he kidnaps you to get his payback.

warnings— EXPLICIT CONTENT. kidnapping, manipulation, extreme degrading, praise kink, face slapping, male masturbation, crying kink, face fucking, CNC, unprotected sex, knife play, death threats, violence, bondage, mentions of bruises, choking, double penetration with knife handle, anal, breeding kink, stockholm syndrome.

a/n— i think this is quite…dark and thank you🫶🏽hope you guys enjoy, def stepped out of my comfort zone for this, requests are open!

Nicholas had always known your father was a powerful man, a producer and director with the kind of influence that could turn anyone into a Hollywood legend. They had made a deal, Nicholas would land two starring roles that would launch his career to the next level. The first film had given him some visibility, but no real money, thanks to your father’s manipulation of the contract. The second role was supposed to be his ticket to true fame and fortune. But then, it all fell apart. Your father broke his promises, cutting Nicholas out in favor of his own friend, Cooper Koch. Worse yet, he’d seized some of Nicholas' property as “leverage” during the filming, draining him financially and leaving him furious and betrayed.

Your father had underestimated just how deep Nicholas’ anger would run. He wanted what was rightfully his, and if he couldn’t get it through negotiations or agreements, he’d find another way. That’s when he learned about you—the daughter your father doted on, especially since the loss of his only son, your older brother, who was meant to be the family heir. But Nicholas wasn’t here for empathy. He wanted revenge, and he knew exactly how to get it.

You agreed to go on a date with Nicholas, the rising star you had met and grown fond of, without a second thought. But as you sat in his car, something felt off. He was silent, his gaze hard as he gripped the steering wheel, ignoring your attempts at small talk.

“Where are we going?” you asked, noticing that he’d missed the turn toward the restaurant.

He didn’t answer right away, his jaw clenched tightly. Finally, he murmured, “Change of plans.”

You felt a prickle of unease and glanced around, trying to piece together where he might be headed. The buildings grew sparse, and the trees thickened on either side of the road, casting shadows as the sun dipped lower. “This doesn’t look like the way to any restaurant,” you said, your voice faltering.

He turned to you, eyes cold. “It’s not.”

A chill ran down your spine. Panic set in as he accelerated, the car speeding down a winding road that led into the dense woods. “Nicholas, stop the car,” you demanded, reaching for the door handle, but he locked it before you could react.

He didn’t look at you, but his voice dropped to a menacing whisper. “You think your father can cross me and get away with it? That he can just toss me aside like I’m nothing?” His grip on the wheel tightened. “This isn’t a date, sweetheart. This is payback.”

Your heart pounded as you pulled at the door, the lock refusing to budge. “You don’t have to do this! Whatever he did-”

“He took everything from me,” Nicholas snarled, his eyes darkening as he drove deeper into the woods. “Everything I worked for. The fame, the fortune, my properties, my pride. And now? I’m taking something from him.”

In a desperate attempt to escape, you kicked at him, your fists pounding against his arm. He barely flinched, his focus unbreakable as he finally pulled up to a secluded cabin, hidden by towering trees and thick brush. You barely had time to scream before he leaned over, his hand covering your mouth.

“Quiet,” he hissed, his voice cold as he tightened his grip. “You’re going to make this harder on yourself sweetheart.”

With a swift motion, he hit a spot on the side of your head, and darkness began to cloud your vision. The last thing you saw before losing consciousness was his dark gaze.

When you woke, your hands were bound to a bed frame in a dimly lit room, and your head throbbed. The dim light filtered through the cracks in the cabin walls, casting eerie shadows. He was there, leaning against the doorframe, watching you with a look that was almost satisfied.

“Comfortable?” he asked mockingly, tilting his head.

You struggled against the ropes, glaring at him. “You’re fucking insane! My father won’t just let this slide!”

He laughed, the sound sharp and humorless. “Your father will do exactly what I want, or he’ll never see you again.”

As you struggled against the ropes, glaring at him. “My father won’t stand for this. He’ll ruin you,” you spat, words filled with venom. “You think your career’s over now? It’s nothing compared to what he’ll do when he finds out what you’ve done.”

His smirk faded, his gaze darkening. In a flash, he crossed the room, sending a chill through you. He leaned down, his face mere inches from yours as his hand struck yours with force, the impact whipping your head to the side.

“Careful with that fucking attitude,” he hissed, his voice low and dangerous. “If you want to get through this in one piece, you’d better be a good little girl and play along.” His mouth curled into a mocking smile as he added, “Maybe I’ll let you go if you can manage that.”

A spark of hope flickered across your burning face, but his mocking laugh snuffed it out. “Oh, don’t look so hopeful,” he sneered. “I own you now. The sooner you accept that, the easier this will be for you.”

The next few days, Nicholas seemed almost amused by your resistance, feeding off your energy as he reminded you just how little control you had. You played along in the way he wanted you to, letting him hold you close as he told you about the disgusting things he wanted to do to you and your father and whatever other sick games he had in mind. Whenever he would see you cry and resist him, your acrylics digging in his back and leaving welts, you noticed the prominent bulge it left in his pants.

One morning, he threw down a newspaper, its headline blaring the news of your disappearance and the national search underway. Your father’s influence had reached every corner of the country, and law enforcement was relentless. Nicholas caught your glance, raising an eyebrow with a smirk. “Guess Daddy dearest is worried,” he taunted, feigning innocence. “How touching.”

You burst into tears, unable to hold it in any longer, you missed your father and you wanted to be away from the psycho standing in front of you. He laughed in your face, slowly taking out his impressively long and hard cock, pumping it as you cried harder. Disgust filled you as you watched him moan the harder you cried. He was getting off to your pain and somehow—deep inside, watching him get off to you turned you on.

“Keep fucking crying sweetheart, you’re gonna make me cum so hard.” Disgusted, you turned your head away, refusing to look at the sight before you but he just chuckled. You opened your eyes feeling the bed dip and you looked up at him, seeing him with his cock above you.

“Open your fucking mouth,” he growled, his stroking become more frantic.

“You’re disgusting,” you spat. He stopped stroking his dick to slap you in the face with it, earning a soft whimper. Obeying him, you opened your mouth, squeezing your eyes shut at the man before you shoved his length into your mouth, thrusting, before he shot his load down your throat.

“Fucking hell, that’s a good fucking whore, take all my cum,” he groaned, grabbing a fistful of your curls and bucking his hips.

As soon as he let you go, your head snapped to the side, shame filling you.

Nicholas leaned in, his expression cold. “You’re mine now,” he said, his voice steady and unyielding. “You’ll make up for every single thing your father took from me. And once I’m done, once I’ve taken back what’s rightfully mine, he’ll be begging for my mercy.”

You glared back, forcing yourself to hold his gaze despite the fear tightening in your chest. “You’re delusional if you think you can control me or him,” you said, your voice shaking with defiance.

Nicholas laughed, unphased. “We’ll see. By the time I’m finished, you won’t even want to go back to that man.” He leaned in closer, lowering his voice. “Because I’n going to break you like a bitch and you’ll be begging to stay with me.”

He watched your expression, almost amused, as you struggled to maintain your composure. “You’ve done well so far, taking my cock down your throat,” he continued, his tone dark but oddly approving. “Maybe it’s time I marked you as mine.”

You swallowed, your mind racing. No matter how much you fought, the lines between fear and something you didn’t want to admit were beginning to blur. He seemed to sense it, a satisfied smirk crossing his face as he leaned back, leaving you to confront the uncertainty.

A gasp left your lips as he gripped your throat, tearing your dress off you. He was a predator and you were his prey. His eyes scanned your almost bare body, licking his lips as you quivered in fear. If your hands weren’t bound to the bed you would’ve tried concealing yourself.

“Please stop,” you whimpered.

“Shut the fuck up,” he snapped, “don’t make me gag you, better yet I won’t, I want to hear you beg me to stop then I want to hear your little moans when you realize I’m making you feel good.”

Your lips quivered as you fought back tears, refusing to give him the satisfaction he wanted.

“Now, I’m going to untie you and you’re going to take off your underwear like a good little bitch. If you try anything stupid, I’ll fucking kill you, understood?” he said, reaching for your wrists.

Slowly, you nodded, the threat rising fear inside you but a sharp smack to the face jolted you. “I said do you fucking understand me?”

“Y-yes Nicholas.”

He untied your wrists, and you looked down to see them black and blue. Slowly, you carried out his request, only having to take off your underwear as you unfortunately went to the ‘date’ not wearing a bra.

“Now spread those legs.”

A soft whimper left your lips and you complied, knowing exactly what the psycho would do to you if you refused. “Good girl.” He reached for the bedside table, taking out a sharp knife from the drawer. “Now, once again, if you think of doing anything stupid, I’ll slit that pretty throat and still fuck it.”

He held the knife lightly against your throat, his fingers dipping between your legs as you trembled. “If you’re so fucking scared and I’m a psycho, why are you soaked? Why the fuck are you wet?”

Shame overtook you, and you squeezed your eyes shut, just wanting it all to be over. You thought about your father, your dead brother, anything to take your mind off what was about to happen.

“It’s gonna be okay princess, I’ll take good care of you if you take good care of me.” He knelt on the bed, making sure you were mouth level with his cock. “It’s time to take good care of me, open up that mouth and I swear to god if you use teeth, I’ll use the knife to knock out every last one of them.”

Reluctantly, you opened your mouth, and he slowly pushed his big cock into it. Your mouth was wide open and you were gagging on it, trying your best to breathe. He began snapping his hips forward, his cock continuously going down your throat and through it all, he kept the knife pressed against your throat.

“Fuck, you really have a mouth on you,” he chuckled, “you’re suck a good cock sleeve, I’m going to enjoy using you like the whore you are.”

His thrusts became rougher and you could hardly breathe and soon, he held you by your curls, pushing your head all the way down until your nose was on his pubes. “I’m gonna cum bitch, swallow my fucking load, don’t let it go to waste.”

You couldn’t even spit it out if you wanted to. He released down your throat, the action making you cough around his dick as he made sure to milk every drop inside your mouth. “You did so good for me baby, I know you’re enjoying this.”

You shivered as he used the cold handle of the knife, rubbing it up and down your folds. Shame bubbled inside you as you heard the unmistakable sound of squelching noises telling you exactly how soaked you were.

“What a disgusting slut, your pussy is practically gushing for me, are you seriously enjoying this?” You looked away embarrassed, heat rising in your cheeks.

A gasp left your lips as you felt the handle sink into your pussy. “Nicholas, please, no,” you begged, disgusted at the sight below you.

“What the fuck did I tell you? Shut the fuck up!” he screamed at you.

Your pussy clenched around the handle as he began fucking you with it faster, the pain soon subsiding and being replaced by pleasure. Trying to hold back your moans seemed futile as he began rubbing your clit and the handle hit a certain spot inside you.

“You’re getting off on this? Fuck, you’re much more of a whore than I thought. If you cum on the knife’s handle I’ll know for sure you were just asking for my cock, you’re fucking asking for it,” he chuckled, darkly.

Hearing his words, you pressed your lips together, containing your moans and trying your hardest not to cum. He only chuckled at your attempts, the handle speeding up inside you and the squelching noises becoming louder and louder. You wished you were deaf in that moment, at least you wouldn’t have to endure the shame of knowing being manhandled by your kidnapper was turning you on.

“Cum for me whore, I know you want to, you won’t be able to stop yourself forever.” Your body betrayed you and as soon as the words left his lips, you soaked his hand and the handle inside you.

“Oh my fucking god, you’re disgusting,” he laughed, looking down at his soaked hand, “did you really just squirt from me fucking you with a knife blade?”

It felt like your world was crumbling as he laughed mockingly and your pussy twitched, slowly gushing.

“Well then, that was easy, I think you’re ready for this big, fat cock to fuck that tight pussy.” He dragged you by your legs, pulling you flat on your back and rubbed the tip up and down your pussy.

“Nicholas, you don’t have to do this, my father will give you back everything he took, I promise. Y-you can let me go, please, I won’t tell.”

“Oh shut up,” he said, slapping you on the mouth, “you don’t get it do you? I own you now. You’re mine. He took everything away from me and I’ll take and use you instead.”

Not giving up, you tried to beg more, “Please don’t, I’m begging you.”

“If you didn’t want me to fuck you, you wouldn’t have squirted for me. You wouldn’t have been soaked like a whore from my touch. Surely you want this, surely your body knows you better than your dumb little brain does. Just lay there and take it, you’ll like it.”

Maybe he was right. If you didn’t want it, why else would you have been wet? Why did you cum? Your body would’ve refused him. Maybe this wasn’t so bad, maybe he just wanted to make you feel good like he did before.

A scream erupted as he pushed his thick cock inside you, giving you no time to adjust. “That’s it bitch, scream for me.”

Your gasps and screams grew louder as he began pounding into you, the bed frame smacking against the wall and your tits bouncing. He took up the knife and traced it along your jaw, admiring how you looked taking him. He brought it down to your tits, increasing his pace and making you moan and scream even louder for him. The intensity of it all was unbearable and you could already feel the impending orgasm.

“I need you to remember you’re nothing but a pussy for me to fuck, a cock slut. You feel so fucking good clenching around my dick.”

He began using the wet handle to rub your clit and you knew it was over for you. Gripping on to his toned biceps, your jaw fell open, loud moans leaving you as you came all over his raw cock inside you. Curse him for not at least using a condom.

“That’s it, let it all out, let out those slutty moans too. You should be a bitch in porn with the way you squirt and moan,” he laughed breathlessly.

He swiftly flipped you onto your back, but instead of pulling your ass up to him, he pressed a bit of his body weight onto you as you lay flat on the bed, slipping his cock inside your pussy once more.

“Spread your pussy for me,” he demanded.

He began pounding into you as you shamefully had your hands on your ass spreading yourself for him. “You should see just how wet you are, but I’m sure hearing it tells you all you need to know.”

You felt so full with him pressing down on you, thrusting roughly, having no regard for the mix of pain that accompanied the pleasure. But, deep down, you were enjoying it. You enjoyed the way he manhandled you, the way he spoke to you like you were nothing, the way he was fucking you like you were just a flesh light.

“Oh god your pussy is just sucking me in, clenching so tightly around me, cum for me again bitch.”

Unable to spread your pussy for him any longer, you gripped the sheets as you came hard around his cock. He continued fucking you through your high, making sure you felt everything. Making sure you knew who was fucking you and who gave you such an intense orgasm.

“My turn. I’m gonna cum inside you, breed this pussy. You’re gonna be all swollen and pregnant, then that baby is gonna be my lucky ticket to yours and your father’s fortune,” he laughed.

“Please, no, I can’t— I’m not on birth control,” you cried out.

“Oh fuck, do you feel my cock throbbing? That’s even better.”

Your protests proved futile and he filled you to the brim. The warm feeling of his load inside you making you moan in content.

“See? You’re just a slutty bitch who likes getting her pussy fucked. You know what else needs to be fucked? That tight little ass.”

Horror spread across your face. No one had ever fucked you in the ass before. He spat on your asshole then used your juices and his cum from your pussy to lubricate it, pushing it in with his fingers. You winced at the unusual intrusion. He continued fingering your ass, shoving the lubricants inside and prepping you for his cock.

“Couldn’t stop looking at that tight asshole when you were spreading for me. I just had to have it. You were practically begging for it.”

Maybe he was right, why else would you have spread yourself? Of course he would’ve seen your tight ass and wanted to fuck it too. How could you be so stupid?

“Get ready bitch.”

“Please—”

Your pleads fell on deaf ears and he pulled your ass up to him, pressing his hand into your back so you could arch for him. Slowly, his big cock began slipping inside your ass, inch by inch. He was more generous with it than your pussy.

“Fuck baby, this ass is so fucking tight, I know for goddamn sure I’m the first to fuck you in it.” He was right.

He began pounding harder as your ass opened up for him. You felt so full, you didn’t know you could feel more full until he pushed the handle of the knife into your pussy.

“Oh my god,” you moaned, the intensity making you see stars. All that was in your head was pleasure and cumming again.

“There she is, that’s my girl,” he beamed, “now bounce that ass back on my cock and this knife.”

Obeying immediately, you bounced your ass back. Your moans were so loud, the whole woods could probably hear. You didn’t care anymore. You couldn’t deny how good he was making you feel, how he was hitting all the right spots inside you. His thrusts met your ass and he rammed the handle inside your pussy over and over.

“Squirt for me baby, squirt and I’ll fill this ass up.”

You nodded frantically, still throwing your ass back to him and you screamed, your orgasm overtaking you like you’ve never felt before.

“Good girl, that’s my bitch, now beg, beg for me to cum inside your ass.”

“Please, fuck— please cum inside my ass, I need you to, please do it,” you begged.

He smirked, throwing the knife on the bed and slapping your ass as he groaned loudly, his load spurting in your ass. He held you in place and soon pulled out, watching as his cum leaked out of both your holes. He ruined you. You were his.

As he pulled out and fell beside you, you instinctively snuggled into his side, a million degrading thoughts running through your head.

[last-words-ofashootingstar]

Hii, i saw your prompt post and wanted to make a request - i don't have anything specific to ask for except 214 and 208 with Mingi - thank you in advance if you choose to write this 🙂‍↕️

➯a/n: dinner is serrrrved🙏 or breakfast depending on when tumble decides to post this lol this is my first time writing mingi kind of mean / darkly (besides Cornflower Blue — yurrr shameless plug kkkk) aaaaand im not gonna lie i loved it

Pipsqueak

❥Song Mingi x fem reader

208 + 214: size difference + cnc

✫彡wordcount: 1.5k

(>ᴗ•)genre: smut

ಠ_ಠwarning/content: cnc (meaning dark content !!) including struggling/restraining/begging/"stop"/ect, using a non verbal sign that cnc is on the table, sore sex, forced orgasm, slight degradation (calling reader a pipsqueak and insinuating she's weak), fingering, dumbification (maybe?), unprotected, pet names, big dick mink !!, i might have a fixation on mingi's hands and his rings, little bit of whimpering towards the end as a treat lolol

everything is previously agreed upon and consensual ! if you do these things, be safe about it. consent is sexy !!

♡masterlist !♡

18+. MINORS HIT THE ROAD.

✦ . PIPSQUEAK⁺

"C'mon, Doll," Mingi chuckles from above you, pinning you to the bed with only his forearm across your shoulders, "give it your all, I'm not convinced. It's almost like you do want me to fuck you right now. If you don't want me to, you're gonna have to try a little harder."

"No!" You yell with a pout, "Mingi, please! I'm still sore from yesterday." You pause your thrashing and look up at him, breathing heavily while he's completely calm. His pupils are blown way out of proportion, it almost looks like his eyes are completely black as his hair casts a shadow over his face.

"And?" He asks with a 'so what' tone in his voice, fingertips sliding under the strap of your pajama top. His cold rings creating goosebumps on your skin. He didn't even bother to take them off before crawling over you and waking you up with a rough kiss.

He came home a bit late, saw the pretty little necklace he gifted you around your neck — and all of his exhaustion from the day was gone. Replaced by the primal need to have you.

That particular necklace with his birth stone on it means that you want to play rough and mean.

"And... so use my mouth instead?" You know he's not going to go for that, but it gives you the time to trace your hand down his stomach and towards his bulge; about to make contact when he grabs your wrist and slams it back down to the mattress.

"Your mouth isn't as good. I want your pussy."

"I can take it all this time," you plead with a squeal while he uses his free hand to rid you of your shorts and underwear in one fell swoop, "I won't gag! I've been practicing with the-"

"You know what doesn't need practice?" It's a rhetorical question, maybe. Not meant to be answered as he answers it himself by cupping your entire heat in his hand. "Her."

His chunky rings make you jolt, feeling like ice against your heated lips. "St-stop it!"

"I can always fit my whole cock inside your little pussy," he grins as you subconsciously rock your hips into his grasp, "even when you say you don't want it~"

A sharp gasp leaves your lips as he sinks two fingers inside of you — deep and fast. "Min!! Please, you fu- you fucked me so hard yesterday, be gentle!"

"You can handle it." He smiles sickly sweet as your wet, lewd noises start filling the air. "I know My Doll can handle it."

His words make you gush, they always do. Especially when he's got his fingers curling and scissoring like he knows exactly where to hit; because he does. "Fuck! Fuck youuu," you trail off your cursing in a moan as you grab the headboard, trying to pull yourself away from the torrent of pleasure.

"Mh? I thought you didn't want to~" He laughs lowly as you groan, your eyebrows creasing together as he targets your g-spot. When he slides another finger inside of you, you slump on the bed. Your chest heaving and your lips pressed together as you whine at the stretch. "Is that really all the fight you have in you? All it takes is my fingers to make you all docile?"

"Shut up, you jerk," you bite back weakly, focused entirely too much on the heavenly feeling of his thick fingers slipping in and out of you so rhythmically and the slightly torturous feeling of your sore walls being stretched again less than twenty four hours after he'd fucked your brains out.

"Hm," he pouts dramatically while giving a particularly rough thrust of his fingers, keeping them as deep as they'll go and making you shiver. "Maybe next time I won't be so nice to stretch you out." You clench around his digits, a loud cry coming up your throat as he curls his fingers in a way that makes your body light ablaze — and he doesn't move them. "I'll just take what I want without worrying about making you cum."

"Mingi! Min- ple- oh, fuck, stop, stop!" But he knows by that look in your eyes that you want him to do the exact opposite. You pull your legs together, knees knocking against one another as you dig your feet into the bed and slide up — his fingers following you the entire way. Nowhere for you to go. Nowhere that Mingi won't follow and pin you down again.

You moan loudly, eyes clouding with tears at the intense and unwavering pleasure.

"You're fucking soaking my hand for someone who doesn't want this," he bites his lip, nearly purring with delight as he easily pries your knees apart and gets a good view of your sopping heat. "Just let it go, angel. I know you want to, get nice and ready for me."

"I d-don't! Please!" Really, you're pleading to cum — not the other way around. He knows just how to make you feel like you're on cloud nine. "I don't want to!"

"Yes, you do." Yes, you really do.

There's something so unbelievably hot in the way he looks down at you like a predator, about to snap and take what he wants.

And what he wants is you. To force you to cum, yank your orgasm from you whether you say you want it or not.

"Please, I don-" You pant, managing to lift one of your legs and press your foot against his chest; pushing him back weakly.

You yelp as he grabs your ankle and pulls it over his shoulder, leaning over you and driving his fingers deeper. "Is that all you got, pipsqueak?"

Your walls clamp down on his digits, giving neither of you much warning before you're creaming all over them with a defeated and trembling moan of his name.

"Fuck, that's it Doll," he rubs down your shaking leg gently while slowing his fingers; his eyes scanning your blissful face, the rapid rise and fall of your chest, your hands gripping the sheets. "There you go."

Still dizzy and gone from your brain with your pleasure, you hardly register that's he's pulled his fingers out and is licking them clean as he turns you over effortlessly with his other hand, sucking your juices off of his rings like it's syrup.

He would be a gentleman and give you another orgasm with his tongue — you are his favorite meal, after all — but he's painfully hard and needs nothing more than to pound you as hard as he can.

He was rough with you yesterday, so he goes slow at first. Bending one of your legs and slotting himself between them. He barely fits, and the fact of that makes his member twitch.

He doesn't give you a warning before he's sinking into you, leaving you completely breathless all over again as he pushes every thick inch deeper at a maddeningly slow pace.

When you grind your hips back impatiently, you're rewarded with the rest of his massive girth slamming into you. "F- sweet mother of fucking- ah!" Your cursing turns into yelled moans with every quick and brutal thrust of his hips. "Slow d-ahh! Down! Slow down!"

But the pace at which he's pummeling your sore cunt feels too fucking good for either of you to actually want to — let alone be able to.

Nothing in the world could make Mingi slow down. Nothing expect you genuinely pleading; and your moans are nothing but ecstasy, even as you beg for mercy on you pussy.

"Min!" You scream as you fist the blanket, your body thrust further up the bed with every one of his ruthless actions until his large hands wrap around your waist and hold you still.

He leans over your back, long leg hooking over yours and fingers digging into your sides. "You feel so g-good," he nearly whines as he keeps up his rough in-and-out. "Who knew a pipsqueak like you could take me so well?"

If you thought you got away with your reaction to the nickname earlier — how it made you cum — you were sorely mistaken.

All you can do is moan, held under him and no possible way to escape from the onslaught of pleasure he's fucking into you.

He bites back a whimper as your sensitive walls clench and flutter around him, his lips parted with his deep moans. "I wonder how many loads my little doll can take before we ruin the blanket again. You w- fuck!" He slams into you rougher, skin slapping against skin and echoing on the walls. "Wanna find out?"

"Yes!" You nod quickly, bringing your hand to wrap over his as he presses it down by your head for leverage.

"Yeah," he chuckles breathlessly, "I thought so, pipsqueak~"

You're in for a long night.

✦ . PIPSQUEAK⁺