#TEARS IN MY EYES HE DID SO WELL THEY BOTH DID

[poguehearted77]

Imagine y’all just had the fight of your lives (maybe over his dumb gun or something equally Rafe), but later when you’re lying on opposite sides of the bed, he reaches out and pulls you close and says somthing cute or annoying idk And then, oh my GOD—it’s slow, emotional, and HOT because making up with Rafe would be next-level intense. please i NEEED😫😩

OH MY GOD YES. SOME SWEET RAFE AND EVEN SWEETER MAKE UP SEX AFTER A HUGE FIGHT. NEED IT.

#2 from my drabble game

smut: penetrative sex, some praise, I love you's, unprotected sex

Rafe is in deep shit.

You know that, he knows that-- hell, even your pet beagle, Poppy knew it. For once, she bolted away the moment the front door opened, and your oh-so-handsome, conniving and deceitful boyfriend walked in instead of running towards him.

Rafe is a dead man walking. How ironic would it be if he were to die at your hands with the very same gun he'd promised you he'd gotten rid of.

His body goes rigid when he sees the weapon in your palm. A nervous gulp falls down his throat as he does his best to stand tall. "Where did you get that?" That's what he asks you, he should've never opened his mouth.

You scoff immediately, carelessly angling it around as your upset mannerisms control your arms. "Get it? You mean where did I find it." He doesn't respond which is a wise choice.

"Mr. Montogommery called me earlier, he was looking for you--said you weren't answering your phone. He asked me to leave you a message," You're pacing now, and it made Rafe nervous. You're a little crazy, but so was he. It's why you went so well together.

"Like the good girlfriend I am, I opened your office drawer for a sticky note to leave on your desk, but what did I find? The same gun you told me would never be back in the house, Rafe are you serious?!" Your arms are flailing and he's half-certain he'll catch a stray by the end of the conversation.

He steps towards you with his hands up cautiously, "Baby, give me the gun, and we can talk about this." You snap, "No! Why should I? You don't trust me with it? Why because it's dangerous? Because it could kill you! You're right, Rafe. Why didn't I think of that sooner--oh wait, I did! And you fucking lied to me, Rafe."

Your voice is enraged and bouncing off the ivory-panelled walls of the house but it dies down to a shaky one as tears threaten to spill over the brims of your eyes. "Y/n-" He holds his hand out for you, but you give him the gun instead.

You execute a sharp pivot on the tips of your toes, ready to walk away from him but he finally speaks up and you stop--not turning around, standing still, anticipating. "I'm not getting rid of the gun." It's all he says.

Had you been in the mood, you would've turned around, lounged at him and strangled him, but no, you just kept walking.

Your bedroom is freezing that night, despite it being the middle of summer, and it only gets colder everytime you glance towards Rafe as he gets ready for the bed you begrudgingly shared.

Your expression remains sour, even in your sleep, no matter how far away from your boyfriend you are. There's enough room to fit a full-grown adult between you. The isolation was holding the production of your melatonin hostage, forcing you both to lay awake, backs facing each other but hearts reaching out.

Rafe flips onto his side, staring longingly at the back of your frame. He missed you and you were right in front of him. "Baby," His voice is soft, and the pet name lands on you gently, a testament that your anger has subsided a bit.

You turn over, choosing to lie on your back and face the ceiling. You deem that he's undeserving to see your face at the moment. "I've got another gun in my nightstand." You blamed your miscomprehension on the late hours of the night because surely he did not just say what you think he said.

Rafe can see the way your chest began to rise and fall at a much more shallow pace, he had about five seconds to start explaining before you turned on him. "I told you about my past. I've done some bad things. 'Burying the hatchet' doesn't exist for everyone, and I want to be prepared for anything. When I look at a gun now, it's not a weapon anymore, it's a tool. It's protection."

Your breathing slowed, a little. He takes it as a good sign. "I can't lose you. If something happened to you when I could've prevented it, I'd never forgive myself, and I know you know that." He's right. You did know that. He dedicated his life to you, making sure that you knew that. "I shouldn't have lied about getting rid of it, and I'm sorry."

Your breathing returns to its normal pace. You lay on your side, now facing him. "Fine." Rafe scoots closer to you, a small grin working its way on his lips. "Fine?" You nod, "Yeah, fine. I forgive you, this time, but don't you ever pull some shit like this again or so help me god I will-" He quiets you with a sweet kiss.

Well, it started sweet at least.

Now you're both watching him slide in. Your warm cunt wrapped around his length delightfully. "You're fuckin' perfect, too good f'me." He groans into your ear. His muscular arms cage you in, and you've decided you'd be more than happy to die between them.

Your soft moans bounced off his brawny chest and right back in your face, "Feels so good, Rafe-" Yougaspedp as he picked up the pace, hips rolling into yours for a much deeper angle. Your back arches off the bed slightly as sweat rolls down your back and sticks to the sheets.

It wasn't long before you were both chasing your highs. Rafe always sounded so fucking hot when he was close, his deep groans pitching up to breathless whines when you purposefully clenched around him, threatening him to fill you up unrestrained. Once you came, he pulled out and finished on your heaving stomach, catching your breath.

He doesn't get off of you just yet. He balances himself on one forearm as the other hand comes up to gently move the strands of hair from your face, "I love you," he means it, his eyes say it when his mouth does. "I love you".

[xshadowdelta]

FORMER MANAGER

PART 5: PURITY.

Mashiro x Male Reader (4K length)

You observed your face in the reflection of the bathroom mirror, your messy hair, the marks of the sheets on your cheeks and some visible dark circles bordering your eyes, it definitely had not been your best night. You had barely slept, tossing and turning in bed all night while your head was spinning around the scene with Jang Wonyoung.

The image of her crying wouldn't disappear from your mind no matter how hard you tried, but how did this happen in the first place? The last memory you had of her was when you said goodbye years ago before returning home, back then she also cried, but this time it was totally different, her look of disappointment on you disturbed you even more than her tears.

You catched some water from the sink, throwing it over your face, trying to clear yourself up and wake up a little, because you had to continue with your life and your work, you would find a free time lapse to be able to fix this problem.

You showered, fixed your hair, and hid the traces of a terrible night on your face as well as you could before getting dressed and leaving your apartment heading to the company.

You arrived at the building where as soon as you entered, your boss was waiting for you, folder in hand, and while you both walked he explained the itinerary of the day and the schedule for the upcoming weeks. Kep1er’s members had returned from their last shows abroad, there had been a few changes at the management level, and a new comeback was already planned, so the work was going to be hard and intense.

Both of you stopped in front of one of the practice rooms, a light touch of your coworker knuckles on the door and you entered inside, a group of girls who were stretching stared at you.

“Good morning girls.” Your partner began to speak. “Before starting preparations for this new album I want to introduce you to your new full-time manager, starting on today he will take care of all of you and about everything you need.” He exclaimed, indicating for you to introduce yourself to them with a gesture of his hand.

You bowed them instantly. “Nice to meet you! I will be at your service from now on, I hope we get along well.” You said a little nervous, a feeling that disappeared when you saw the smiles and applause they offered you. “Nice to meet you, please treat us well!” They all said in unison bowing to you aswell.

"Good." Your boss interrupted. “The dance teacher will come right away to show you and start practicing the new choreographies, I hope the best from all of you. “Fighting!” He said with his fist, before handing you the information folder and leaving the room.

You watched him leave and when you looked back you jumped when you realized how the Kep1er girls had surrounded you, occupying any personal space you could have, their eyes analyzing you carefully.

"Hello!" One of them greeted with a huge smile on her face. “I'm the leader Yujin, nice to meet you, it's incredible, it's the first time I have such a young manager.” You smiled shyly, uncomfortable with the circle of people that had formed around you.

“Wow, can I call you oppa?” A girl with pink hair and rounded cheeks asked next to her, if you were not mistaken it was Kim Chaehyun, you nodded affirmatively at her question causing her to laugh.

You noticed that penetrating eyes were focused on you to the point that you realized that gaze was passing through you, you made eye contact with it, increasing your nervousness.

“Is something wrong, Xiaoting?” You asked softly making the mentioned girl blink a few times. “Do you know my name already?” She questioned surprised. “Our new manager has studied a lot!” Dayeon shouted, starting to laugh and causing the rest of the members to laugh.

“Look at his dark eyes, he sure hasn't been able to sleep all night!” Hikaru joked, releasing one of her particular laughs that resonated throughout the room, increasing the volume and joy of the rest of the members.

These girls were really loud and restless, they were going to give you a lot of headaches, yet a smile was drawn on your lips and for a while you forgot about the rest of your problems.

The dance teacher appeared and the morning passed with the girls memorizing and practicing the new choreographies, so you took the opportunity to go to your office to work on other aspects such as contacting the wardrobe team, making venue reservations where the filming would be done, hire the recording equipment.

The days went by and with the amount of work you had it was impossible to even think about Wonyoung. Your relationship with the members of Kep1er was improving and due to the characteristics of these girls, in just a week it seemed like you had been together since their debut, and that was something that relieved you and made everything much more enjoyable.

This day in question the girls would spend it in the recording studio, testing their vocals and recording the songs for the new album, so really your presence there was not very significant so your task for the day was to clean and organize everything in the house.

If you already hated doing housework, doing it in a home full of girls made you hate it excessively. A multitude of clothes scattered throughout the rooms, boxes and cardboard in every corner.

You were infinitely grateful to Bahiyyih for trying to keep the house in order, saving you some work, but the whirlwind that was Chaehyun Dayeon and Hikaru was simply unstoppable.

You finished off the apartment Yujin Bahiyyih Chaehyun and Xiaoting shared and headed upstairs to start cleaning the next one. You hadn't been there for long but there was a room that you had not yet accessed, it was a two-bed bedroom that did not belong to anyone in the group but that had serious signs of having been habited before, it was perfectly arranged and there were still clothes hanging in the closet.

You inspected said clothes, leaving them on one of the beds, you opened the drawers looking to know what, and this really had you confused.

“W-W-Who are you? What are you doing with my clothes?” A sudden voice surprised and scared you, almost making you fall on the bed when you turned to look at the door frame of the room, finding a small girl with brown hair and a rather cute appearance carrying a cardboard box in her hands, looking at you in a scared way.

“That's what I should ask, how did you get in here? The door has a password, and what's with your clothes?” You were trying to appear as calm as possible but you were really uneasy with that presence.

“Don't tell me…A SASAENG!” You both shouted at the same time, pointing your fingers at each other.  "WHAT? ME?" Now your fingers were pointing towards yourselves.

“It's over I'm going to call the police.” The girl said, dropping the box and taking her mobile phone out of her pants pocket.

“That's exactly what I'm going to do, look at this.” You said, taking out the company ID, surprising the girl.

"Huh?"

.

.

.

.

“I'm sorry again, I had no idea you were the new manager.” The girl said with her head down, looking at the ground, feeling guilty for the previous misunderstanding.

“The mistake was mine for not having recognized you before, Mashiro-shi.” Now you knew who this room belonged to.

Apparently, and after left the grou, both Mashiro and Yeseo had been terribly busy with their new group and their own activities that they had been coming and going to the house making small moves of their things. However some things of their property were still there.

“If you need help with your…”

“Oh no no, please, I'm sure you're very busy, I don't want to bother you.” She commented, making notable gestures with her hands. You smiled at how adorable that was.

“The rest of the members say that you and Yeseo will continue to be part of Kep1er forever…” You commented, bending down to pick up the cardboard box from the floor and put it on the bed, opening it. “So now I'm also your manager, okay Mashiro-chan?” You smiled warmly at her causing her cheeks to turn a deep pink color.

“O-O-Okay” She agreed shyly, approaching you and helping you pack more clothes from her closet.

Together you cleared out the closet and packed all the clothes, and you organized the rest of the room and cleaned it. You glanced at Mashiro from time to time, even with that strange first impression you had with her, you really thought she was a super adorable girl. Her small stature, her beautiful face and the dimples that were marked on her cheeks reaffirmed it.

“What do you think of the members?” She asked casually while doing her task, your gaze drifted towards the ceiling, sketching a slight smile after a few seconds of thought.

“Noisy.” You responded simply causing her to giggle, covering her mouth with one of her hands.

“I understand you perfectly.” She supported you.

“But they are really amazing.” You continued. “They spend the day laughing and making a fuss but they don't lower the effort they put into their practices one bit, sometimes I envy them. I would also like to enjoy my work like they do.” Out of the corner of my eye you could notice a small smile melancholy on her face, so you decided not to say anything else and continue with the cleaning.

You walked over to one of the nightstands next to one of the beds to open the drawers, see what they kept and see if there was anything else that needed to be packed.

“Don't open that!” Mashiro screamed hysterically, throwing herself on the bed trying to stop you but you had already opened the drawer. You looked at her confused, even more so when she threw her hands over her face trying to hide herself, while her ears turned red.

You looked down, looking at the vibrator that was inside the drawer, blushing too and quickly moving away, falling on your ass to the floor.

"I'm sorry."  You whispered embarrassed, unable to look up, noticing how your face was burning.

“Noooooo…how embarrassing.” Mashiro sobbed, rolling on the bed. You grabbed a lock of your hair, analyzing the situation, looking for the right words for a moment like this.

“There is nothing to be ashamed of Mashiro, it is something totally normal for someone your age and…Mashiro?” You were absorbed as you looked up to see directly at the girl who was still sobbing, covering her face with one hand, while the other was now rubbing her crotch over her pants. So those sounds weren't sobs, they were moans.

You saw how she relaxed her body and lie down on the bed. The hand that covered her face no longer did so, she was now looking at you clearly, intently, a look very different from what you had seen from her before.

“It has been such a hard, stressful and emotional weeks. Leaving one group to enter another, new members, comeback, and performances. Even now all the responsibility of being a leader falls on my shoulders.”

“Mashiro…” Your words were interrupted by a new moan.

“And I forgot my stress reliever during the move, I tried using my fingers but they didn't have the same effect…” You turned your gaze to the vibrator and took it in your hands, Mashiro's eyes did not take their eyes off the device. You turned it on, listening to the vibrations it produced, making Mashiro groan in despair.

“You said before that you were also my manager…” The Japanese girl began to say. “So, I need your help, manager oppa, please…” You swallowed after hearing that request of deep need in her tone of voice.

You stood up and approached the bed, sitting on the edge near Mashiro, who lowered the zipper of her sweatshirt a little, revealing a bit of the shirt she was wearing underneath and then, moving against the bed, she managed to lower her pants until her underwear was visible.

“You are very wet Mashiro-chan.” You commented looking at the huge stain that had appeared on her panties. “You really are so needy…”

She didn't respond but she brought her hand back to where the stain was now, caressing herself again with circular movements, closing her eyes enjoying her own touch.

When she stopped she opened her eyes to look deeply at you, eyes that were screaming for your help. You sighed and got even closer to her body, vibrator in hand, gently bringing it to her desired area, coming into contact causing Mashiro's back to arch due to excitement.

“Yes, please…” She continued asking needily.

You pushed aside the fabric of her panties, visualizing her wonderful pink pussy completely flooded that was crying out for pleasure.

The sex toy now caressed Mashiro's folds mercilessly, forcing her to moan loudly, her eyes closed again enjoying the waves of pleasure that ran through her body.

That scene was fucking erotic for you, so much so that a huge bulge peeked out from between your pants. With your free hand you managed to free that bulge from outside your clothes, however it was somewhat difficult to satisfy both of you at the same time.

A naughty idea crossed your mind. If you were busy offering pleasure to Mashiro she was free to give it to you, so you took her hand closest to you and placed it around your cock.

Upon feeling that she opened her eyes again, offering you a small smile when she knew your intentions, grabbing your penis tightly and beginning to move her hand up and down constantly.

“Oppa hentai…” She whispered, biting her lip, watching how she was masturbating you.

“It's your fault in the first place…” You responded, emitting the occasional small moan caused by her touch, and lowering the zipper of her sweatshirt completely with your free hand, allowing yourself to caressing her stomach and her hips.

You threw the vibrator to the side of the bed and began to caress her pussy with your own hand, separating her folds with your fingers and inserting a couple of them inside causing a squeal of surprise from her.

“Shit oppa…it feels so good…”

“A girl as adorable as you talking so dirty.” You said increasing the pace of your caresses on her pussy, feeling how your hand became wet with Mashiro's fluids.

“You love when I talk dirty, right oppa?” She asked continuing the caresses on your penis. “It hasn't stopped growing…”

You smiled, leaning over her body, placing a few kisses across her bare stomach. She released her grip on your cock to allow you to position yourself more comfortably on top of her, slipping your hands under her shirt touching everything within reach.

Mashiro slowly melted under your body, moaning louder and louder as your fingers caressed her tits. She was breathing heavily and her hair fell over her forehead giving it an even sexier touch, her entire face was flushed and hot.

Due to the constant movement of your bodies on each other there was a moment where your cock rubbed against Mashiro's pussy, tensing her body and placing her hands against your chest, pushing you away slightly.

You raised an eyebrow in confusion, realizing how hot this whole scene had become and how you had gotten carried away with it.

“I'm sorry if I…

“I have only used that vibrator… I have never had anything inside me beyond my fingers, I am completely a virgin.” She admitted, looking away embarrassed.

"It’s okay." You whispered softly, offering her a smile, caressing her right cheek with your hand. She took your hand and let herself be caressed by you.

“It's really strange and we just met...but I feel very comfortable with you, oppa. Although I don't think I'm ready to cross that line yet, I'm sorry.”

“You don't have to apologize for anything.”  You leaned your head over her, kissing her lips, being instantly reciprocated by her, lightly biting her lower lip, drawing a moan from her and allowing your tongue to explore every corner of Mashiro's mouth.

“Oppa.” A thread of saliva separated your mouth from Mashiro's. “I need an orgasm.”

You smiled, recovering the vibrator lost in some corner of the bed, activating it again, this time with more power making the girl's body tremble.

“OH FUCK!” Squeals and moans came non-stop from the idol's mouth as you rubbed the toy again and again over her weak area.

You alternated the vibrator with the caresses that you provided with your hands. You lay down on the bed next to Mashiro without stopping masturbating her, she quickly took your cock again with one of her hands and now you were both pleasuring each other.

You inserted two of your fingers inside her completely tight pussy, stretching it slightly feeling her walls contract against your fingers. The girl's hips moved unconsciously as the moans did not stop and her grip on your cock tightened.

You then stroked her clit with your thumb, which was like touching the self-destruct button on Mashiro's body. You touched and pressed her clit as much as you could until her back arched again and a huge scream escaped her mouth.

Her body hit the mattress again, her chest rising and falling excitedly. It took her a few seconds to catch her breath and recover from that orgasm, she turned to look at you and you quickly wiped away some tears that were now flowing from her eyes with your hand.

“God…you're better than any toy, oppa.” Despite continuing to pant, her smile was wide, she laughed at herself for the situation she found herself in.

You laughed, also flattered but somewhat embarrassed by her comment. You tried to get up to get out of bed but Mashiro immediately stopped you and forced you to lie down, surprising you with her sudden reaction.

“Wait, you're not done yet.” She said and then you looked down at your penis.

“Please let me help you, oppa.” Mashiro demanded in distress, because she had been able to free herself thanks to your touch and you, on the other hand, were still hard.

How were you going to refuse that, you thought, lowering the clothes that covered your lower area to your ankles, leaving your member in full view. Mashiro was stunned to see it like that.

“It's even bigger…” She whispered, wrapping her hand around it again, beginning to cover it completely and therefore starting the massage.

You let out a moan and bit your lip. Under normal conditions it would take you long enough to cum to get a long treatment, but the hard work of these last few days had taken its toll on you too. You hadn't downloaded for days, even weeks, and none of the Iz*One girls had crossed your path during this time, so you and your friend were especially sensitive at the moment.

That Mashiro was inexperienced was obvious, not only because she had confessed to being a virgin, it was obvious that it was the first time she had masturbated someone.

She did it delicately but nervously, her hand trembled on your cock, so you decided to help her, placing one of your hands on hers, guiding her on top of you. This helped her to calm down and gain confidence, copying the rhythm that you were setting.

You moved your hand away once you saw her more prepared and in response to that she wrapped her other hand around your penis as well.

Now both of the girl's hands were working on your erect dick, covering the entire length between them, with slow and delicate movements that made you shudder.

Your moans began to get uncontrolled due to her touch, giving her more and more encouragement and causing the pace of masturbation to increase.

Her two hands worked now at high speed on your penis, with enveloping movements, noticing how it swelled and began to tremble.

“Shit...Mashiro-chan I'm about to...” You couldn't finish the warning when the first shot was propelled upwards, surprising the girl by seeing that white liquid escape from the tip of your penis.

After the first, the rest of the shots followed, progressively decreasing the intensity with each one until finally there was not a single drop left inside you.

Mashiro's hands raised the skin of your penis one last time, observing the brilliance that the tip of your penis now offered. Finally she let you go and you were able to sit up on the bed, seeing the mess that had formed on your abdomen, now covered in your own sperm.

You diverted your gaze towards Mashiro whose eyes did not stop observing that increasingly sticky area.

You moved your hand towards it, taking some of the sperm with your fingers and looked back at the girl, who now looked back at you.

"Do you want to try it?" You asked, smiling sideways, sneaking into her thoughts. She did not utter a word due to shyness and embarrassment but nodded affirmatively.

You brought your fingers closer to her face and she closed her eyes, opening her mouth, allowing you to insert them inside, licking and tasting your seed. Her tongue moved between your fingers, wetting them but absorbing all the liquid they were impregnated with.

She opened her mouth again for you to remove your fingers and you looked at each other.

"It is...you are...you taste delicious..." She admitted self-consciously but happy and satisfied. “C-C-Can I take some more?”

A few seconds later you had Mashiro leaning over you licking all the remains of sperm that were on your abdomen and thighs. That was making you hard again but you knew you had a line that you must not to cross.

The idol's tongue cleaned you completely, savoring every last bit of liquid she could get, repeating to herself how delicious it tasted. Once she was over with you, you left the room for a moment to go to the bathroom, cleaning yourself and put your clothes back on properly, when you returned Mashiro was also dressed.

You inserted the vibrator into the cardboard box, camouflaged between several layers of clothing, and took it into your arms, despite the girl's insistence that she could carry the box.

You went down together to the street, parked there was one of Mashiro's new group's cars waiting to pick her up.

"Thanks for everything, manager oppa." Mashiro smiled sweetly at you.

"Keep this between us, okay?" She nodded briskly heading to the car, turning around before opening the door.

"I'll think about you the next time." Those words caught you off guard, making you blush.

You watched as the car disappeared into the distance of the street, blending into the traffic. You sighed and walked back up the stairs to the apartment, there was still a lot to clean.

Just when you were about to grab the broom again the phone in your pocket started ringing, you picked up after reading the name of the caller and brought it to your ear.

“Finally, I only had to call you 7 times to get a callback.” You heard a sleepy yawn from the other side.

“I've been non-stop for months, many performances, shootings, ceremony awards, and exhausting trips, you know. I deserved a good restful sleep…of 14 hours.”

“Of course, we must keep the star Ahn Yujin in good condition.” Your laughter dissipated as you took a more serious tone. “I need to talk to you.”

“Yeah, I know. See you in like 1 hour? I will send you the location.”

“Sure, see you.”

You hung up the call and heaved a long sigh, rushing to get all the work done. You had a date in an hour.

[russo-woso]

This wasn’t planned || USWNT x pregnant!teen!reader

Request | Masterlist | Prompt list

Warning Teen pregnancy, morning sickness, cravings, long painful labour and delivery

Summary You fall pregnant very unexpectedly and feel like your falling but your teammates are there to pick you up

A/N I’ve done three different versions of this now with different teams but this is the final one 🫶🏻

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

“Y/N, what’s wrong hun?” Emily asked as she walked into the bathroom, heating your wracked sobs.

Emily was like your sister, having known you from the US team and Arsenal. You two even lived together in England.

You showed her the pregnancy test, her jaw dropping as she saw pregnant.

You weren’t surprised at her reaction, after all you were only sixteen. You don’t think anyone really expects you to be pregnant so young, but here you were.

“I did it once, Em. I was at that stupid party I told you about and I hooked up with a guy. It wasn’t even that long. Twenty second if that. And he wore a condom! I don’t get what happened.” You sobbed, Emily holding your shaking body.

“I know, hun. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” Emily whispered repeatedly, stroking your hair. “The girls will be with you the whole way through. I promise. I’ll help you.”

You didn’t believe her at first, thinking that everyone would judge you.

But surprisingly, Emily was right.

You had no choice but to tell the team, some of them bringing up that you were constantly sick, especially in the mornings.

“Y/N, are you okay? I saw you run in here.” Sophia asked as you continued to throw up in the toilet.

She rubbed your back as you threw up, holding your hair back too.

“Hun, you’ve been sick every single day this week. Are you sure you’re okay?”

You debated whether to lie or not, but you figured you’d be telling her soon anyway.

“I’m pregnant.” You revealed.

“Oh my god… hun, this is big. I’m here for you, okay?”

“Thank tou.” You sent her a weak smile before hugging her.

The reactions of the others was similar, promising they’ll help with whatever they could.

There was one person though who you had to tell, Alex.

Alex Morgan was like your mum. After growing up without a mother, Alex took on that role when you joined the USWNT.

In the year you played together, the two of you became so close.

Since she’d retired, you rang her to see if you could meet her somewhere and you agreed a small coffee shop.

You were nine weeks already, the party having been nine weeks ago, so you were starting to show the most tiniest bit hence why you had started to wear baggier clothes.

“Hi, hun!” Alex cheered as you walked though the door.

“Hey, Al.” You sighed, melting into the hug.

You got caught into a conversation when you finally got the confidence to reveal the pregnancy.

“So… I have some news and I don’t really…” you began, feeling tears well in your eyes.

“You’re pregnant?” Alex guessed, your eyes widening in shock.

“Yeah. How did you know?”

“I know you, Y/N. The Y/N I know doesn’t wear baggy clothes and she certainly doesn’t not order coffee.” Alex explained, looking at you noticing how emotional you looked. “I’m so proud of you. You’re so good with Charlie, I just know you’re going to be a good mama.”

“Thanks, Alex.” You said between cries

“I’m pregnant too.” Alex revealed

“Are you actually?”

“It’s still really early. I’m gonna announce it when I retire from club football.” Alex said. “So, we’ll have each others backs, huh?”

—

“Em?” You shouted from the living room to Emily who was stood making lunch for you both.

“Yeah?”

“Can you please get the marmite for me. Bubba’s really craving it.” You said, rubbing your now seven month bump.

“Eww, marmite?” Emily replied, grabbing it from the cupboard anyway and bringing it through to you.

“Not my fault.” You told her and she nodded, understanding.

Just as you opened the lid, a knock was heard at the door.

Emily got up to answer it, Alessia and Lotte’s voices filling the house.

“Hiya, Y/N, hiya bubba. They’ve got so big!” Alessia exclaims as she settles on the couch next to you.

“Hi.” You greet back, your mouth full of marmite.

“New craving by any chance?” Lotte asked and you nodded.

“This is the fourth jar this week.” Emily added as you grinned cheekily.

“It’s not my fault the bubba wants it.”

Your phone started ringing and you picked it up to see it was Alex ringing you.

“Hey Al.” You said, lifting yourself off the couch and walking towards your room.

“Hey hun, how you feeling? Emily said bubba’s been kicking you every night.”

“Alex, they won’t stop. I swear, it’s like they do it at night on purpose.” You said, collapsing onto your bed after the difficult journey up the stairs.

“What’s wrong? You sound out of breath.”

“I’ve just walked up the stairs.” You replied, Alex humming, also agreeing with how you were feeling. “Anyways, how are you?”

“Broke, but I’m okay.” Alex said

“Why are you broke?”

“Because I’ve just booked plane tickets to come see one of my favorite girls in England.” Alex responded, a clear smile evident in her voice.

“Alex… no.” You said, shocked.

“Yes, I’ve missed you so much, hun. I want to come see you before bubba is born.”

“Oh my god! When do you come? I’m canceling everything.”

The conversation carried on about when Alex was coming and what you were going to do.

—

You were now approaching the nine month stage.

You were exhausted to say the least. You were tired of being pregnant, you just wanted your baby here already.

You had asked Emily if you could go with to Colney today, wanting to see the Arsenal girls before you have birth.

She said yes, knowing she’d been making you coop up in the house for weeks now.

Maybe it would be good for you to get some fresh air.

“Hey, hun!” Alessia said, watching you waddle into the canteen where all the girls were sat. “You ready for bubba to come?”

“No. I’m dreading it but I can’t wait for them to come.” You responded, still making your way over to where alessia was sat.

“I can’t wait to meet them.”

“Well, you’re not going to wait much longer. Not much longer at all. Maybe today even because by the looks of it, bubba wants to come out now.” You said, looking at the puddle by your feet.

“Oh my god! Your water broke? Emily!” Alessia shouted, clearly panicked.

“Less! Calm down.” You laughed

“Yeah? Y/N! Your water broke!” Emily exclaimed, noticing the puddle at your feet.

“Wow, I hadn’t noticed.” You replied sarcastically, Emily rolling her eyes.

“Come on, hun, let’s get you home.”

—

It had been a long day.

You went home after your water broke, getting changed before timing your contractions.

After three hours, your contractions were bad, but not close enough to each other to go through hospital.

Emily suggested you went on a walk, to try speed up the labour.

You went around the block, waddling along as you walked.

But when you got back, they were only six minutes apart.

It was three o’clock when you finally went to the hospital, five hours after your water had broken.

Your contractions were close together now and were painful. Very very painful.

Emily drove to the hospital, holding your hand for support and comfort.

When you arrived, the nurses guided you to your room, allowing you to settle first before coming back to check how dilated you were.

“So, you are four centimetres dilated. How long ago did your water break?”

“About five hours ago.” You tell her

“Okay, so normally you would be a lot more further on in labour but there’s no need to worry. Slow labour could be affected by anything. Your age. Your athleticism. Anything.” The nurse explained and you nodded along, trying to focus on her words but it was hard to with a contraction hitting. “I’d recommend trying to get to sleep. It’ll be a long night for you and it might speed things up a bit.”

You took into account the fact that you might not be getting sleep with a newborn so you managed to get a few hours sleep, which actually helped speed up your labour too.

—

You were now nine centimetres dilated.

You had declined the epidural, having a massive fear of needles and after reading the negative effects an epidural could have, you definitely didn’t want it.

You were given gas and air instead, trying to decrease the pain as much as possible.

It was coming close to midnight, your body tired and achy now.

Emily still stayed by your side, rubbing your back and holding your hand.

You were currently knelt against the bed, your head in your arms as they rested on top of the bed.

“I think you’re ready to push.” The midwife announced as she checked how dilated you were.

“Thank god. I don’t know if I can do this for much longer.” You said, letting a sigh of relief out.

“Ready to meet your baby, huh?” Emily asked and you nodded, feeling a contraction coming.

“Ready to push? On three. One, two, three.”

You pushed with all your might, gripping onto Emily’s hands as you did.

“Okay, another one.”

Similar to the first push, you tried your hardest but there seemed to be no improvement.

Emily stroked back your sweat drenched hair, placing a kiss to your forehead as you pushed.

“I’m never having sex again.” You revealed after a push.

“Okay, hun.” Emily laughed

You had now been pushing for over half an hour, but still there seemed to be no sight of your baby.

“Y/N, if we can’t see your baby after this push we’re going to have to rush you in for an emergency C-Section.” The midwife said, and you nodded, knowing it would be for the best.

You were fully exhausted now, having used all your energy on the pushing.

“Hun, you’ve got this.” Emily said, panic on her face.

You groaned into the bed as you pushed, this time, using your whole body to push.

“I can see a head! Keep going, Y/N!” The midwife announced, as you kept pushing. “They’re heads nearly out. One more push and your babies head will be out.”

You pushed once more, this one more painful more than ever as the babies head crowned.

“They’re heads out. Take a breather if you want.” The nurse told you, rubbing your back in support.

“Tissue.” You mumbled to Emily who reached over to the box of tissues, bringing it to your forehead and wiping the sweat off.

“Whenever you’re ready, Y/N. One more big push, and your baby will be here.”

At them words, you pushed, using all your energy.

“They’re here! Your baby girl’s here.” The midwife said, catching your daughter and passing her under to you.

You held her to you chest, looking down at her as you both cried.

“Hi, bubba. I know that was tough, hey? Oh, I know.” You cooed as she cried her little lungs off.

“She’s perfect, hun.” Emily said rubbing your shoulder as she looked down at the baby in your arms.

“I’m gonna take her over here to check her vitals. I won’t be long.”

Whilst your baby girl was being checked over, you pushed the placenta out and moved to the bed.

Your daughter was being passed back to you, this time she was wrapped in a blanket with a small hat on top of her hair, covering her small tuffs of hair.

“She looked like you, Y/N.” Emily said

“You think so?”

“Same nose, same mouth, everything. A mini you.” Emily pointed out

“Would you like to hold her?” You asked Emily and she nodded, an emotional smile taking over her face.

“Hi, bubs. I’m your aunt Emily.” Emily cooed, stroking her finger up and down your daughter’s cheek. “What’s her name?”

“Florence Alexandra Y/L/N.”

“Oh my god, Alex is gonna be so happy.” Emily said

“I’m hoping she is, just like I’m hoping you’d be happy when I ask if you’d be Flo’s godmother?” You asked, Emily’s face lighting up.

“Of course! Oh my god thank you so much, Y/N.” Emily exclaimed, getting up to hug you.

—

After a while, you’d fed Florence and she was now fast asleep in a milk coma on your chest.

Emily was also fast asleep on the seat next to you.

You’d decided to FaceTime Alex to tell her about Florence.

The phone rang a few times before Alex finally picked up.

You’d angled the phone onto where Florence was laying, Alex’s jaw dropped as she focused on what she was looking at.

“They’re here?” Alex asked, you kidding with a tired smile.

“A girl. She’s perfect, Al. I’ve never felt a love like it, I’ve known her for an hour or two but I love her more than anything in the world. I guess you know what that feels like, huh? With Charlie.”

“I feel it with all my kids. Charlie, this baby, and you.” Alex said through tears.

“Al… you’re gonna make me cry.” You told her, blubbering.

“You’re my daughter too, Y/N. Since the moment you came into my life, you’ve been my daughter. Charlie loves you like a big sister too. Anyway, enough crying. What’s bubbas name?”

“Florence Alexandra Y/L/N.” You replied

“Oh my god, forget what I said about the no crying. You named her after me?”

“How could I not? You’re my mom Alex.” You said with a smile

“I love you two so much.”

“We love you too, Alex.”

[lixiemissexotic]

𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐬𝐡𝗼𝐭𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐝𝗼 𝐫𝐲𝐮𝐬𝐢 🫦🫦.

𝐭𝐰 𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐬 𝐛𝐞𝐥𝗼𝐰.

your back is arched to perfection putting that pretty pussy, bubbly ass and sexy back tattoo that your boyfriend loved so much on full display for him. shido was positioned right behind you gripping your ass and rubbing his tip along your pussy.

there was this devious grin on his face while he spoke “you want it mama? c’mon beg for my cock and i promise i’ll cum deep inside your pussy and eat it after”

everything about his just made your pussy wetter and wetter, the way he spoke, his body, and that long thick cock that’s made you cum more times than you could count.

“ple- fuckkk” before you could utter out a single word shido put his cock in your needy pussy. he knew how big he was and he knew that was kinda mean but could you really blame him when his pretty girlfriend’s pussy is basically begging him to put his cock in.

he had one hand pressing down against you back deepening your arch and the other wrapped around your hair. he wasted no time thrusting in and out of your pussy filling the room with moans from the both of you and the lewd sounds of his balls slapping against your pussy.

“ahhh ryuu, s’so big” you moaned out with tears in your eyes but he just wouldn’t slow down and you didn’t want him to. his cock was so deep you could feel his tip hitting your sweet spot over and over again.

“fuck that’s my girl, who’s a good slut for ryu”

“babyy ahhh, pleasee”

his hand went straight to your neck as he brought your bodies closer together to whisper in your ear, going deeper and harder with every word he was about to speak “I asked who’s good slut for ryu baby”.

“me, me, me, i’m a g-good f-fucking slut for you ryu” you screamed out .

he smiled as he kept fucking deep into your wet pussy “good little whore”

“hmm your pussy feels so good” he was so proud of his girl for taking him so well, his favorite view was your back arched and ass clapping on his cock. the view on it’s own was enough to have him ready to cum on the spot.

“ryuu i wanna cum, please baby” you babbled out through moans sounding so fucking cock drunk.

“cum on my cock princess” and you did just that legs shaking and eyes rolling to the back of your head. shido kept fucking you during your orgasm making sure you saw stars. it wasn’t long after before he came inside you.

you could feel his cock let out thick sticky cum filling up you pretty pussy.

i couldn’t make the link smaller i’m sorry 😞

© 2024 𝐀𝐥𝐥 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝗼 𝐥𝐢𝐱𝐢𝐞𝐢𝐬𝐠𝗼𝐝. 𝐂𝗼𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐬𝐡𝗼𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐧𝗼𝐭 𝐛𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝗼𝐥𝐞𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐩𝐮𝐭 𝗼𝐧 𝗼𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐟𝗼𝐫𝗺𝐬.

[avatar-anna]

this is the second part of my exrry in italy oneshot! you can read that here

Three days had passed and Harry hadn't left your tiny apartment.

He kept saying he should probably leave, and you insisted there were things you had to do, but neither of you actually made it past the threshold of your door. No one said goodbye, or even bothered to shrug back into clothes. For three days, you ate, drank, and slept with Harry.

"You're making it hard to leave," he murmured, his voice low and content as you placed tiny kisses on his neck, his collarbone, his jaw, anywhere you could reach, really. It was how you used to wake Harry up when you were together, and when morning number four rolled around, you couldn't help yourself but lean across the bed and kiss his soft, sun kissed skin.

At first, you kept up the pretense of being unattached, of sleeping with Harry merely because you knew each other well enough physically. "This doesn't mean we're back together," you'd both whisper, or something to that effect, before blurring the lines of your non relationship once more.

"You're not making it any easier to kick you to the curb," you mumbled, one hand reaching up to caress his stubbly cheek. The fine, short hair that seemed to grow in the last few days.

Harry smelled good, like he usually did with a mix of the soap in your shower. It messed with your head in a way that was dangerous, but you couldn't bring yourself to care.

So he didn't leave (again), and you didn't tell him to go(again). You and Harry stayed in bed for most of the day, only bothering to get up when hunger was too apparent to ignore. You managed to whip something up from the meager groceries you had, not having gone to the market recently, and sat with Harry at the little dining table by the kitchen. The balcony would've been a much nicer spot, as it looked out over the neighborhood square you stayed in, but it was too public, too many keen eyes would've spotted Harry immediately.

"Part of me wishes I hadn't seen you at all," Harry confessed later in the day. You were back in bed after a brief stint in the kitchen where you tried to make pancakes, which promptly turned into kissing and licking pancake batter off Harry as he did the same to you on the kitchen counter, pancakes no longer a priority.

You knew he hadn't meant it to hurt you, but the words sent a pang through your chest, so different from the heat and fireworks and butterflies you usually got from him. Everything was so different now. It was hard to face how much had changed, especially now that Harry was in bed beside you. "I know."

"It's easier to pretend when I can't see you," he said softly, his hand never once stopping as it tracked through your hair, nor did your hand stop tracing patterns in his chest.

"Pretend?"

Harry blew out a large sigh before sitting up in your bed, his arms stretching high above his head. There were hickeys littered all over his body, one on his hip revealing itself as the bedsheet fell and settled just below his waist. You found yourself transfixed by your ex's body, the one you still loved so much the idea of him leaving made your heart hurt.

"Do you still love me?" Harry asked out of the blue.

The question shocked you, but only because you thought the last three days would've made it obvious. You certainly didn't have to ask him how he felt. "Yes."

"That makes it easier too. In a selfish way, I guess," he said, not once meeting your eye. "Knowing you're in as much pain as I am."

Unexpected tears welled in your eyes. You never wanted to hurt Harry. He'd been right to say it was easier to imagine him happy and healthy post break up if you didn't see or hear from him. It was easier to move on if you convinced yourselves that you were better off without each other.

"Harry—"

"I miss you, Y/n," he said, his voice trembling slightly. Harry wouldn't meet your eye, which made all of this so much worse. "I know why we broke up, and I've done everything short of sleeping with someone else to try and move on, but I just—Tell me you're struggling as much as I am. Tell me you don't sleep as well as you used to because I'm not there. Or don't. Tell me this has all just been sex to you so I know there's an end to this—this—"

"Misery?" you finished for him. "I wish I could. I don't know if I'll ever be the same again, honestly."

"Then why—"

"Don't ask why. Please. Not when you know the answer."

It wasn't like you and Harry woke up one day and stopped loving each other. Everything about your relationship had been nothing short of perfect from the very beginning.

Until it wasn't.

"No one has to know this time," Harry said. His tone had taken on a desperate edge, almost making you turn away from him so you wouldn't have to face it, do this all over again. "We can—We can keep this a secret. It'll be just us."

It will never be just us, you thought miserably. "People already know, H."

At the look of confusion on his face, you reached for your phone. You showed him the slew of articles that had already been written. Pictures of you and Harry walking through Rome together three days ago, each one picking you apart or depicting you as the villain in Harry's life.

"I know that's why you're still here. You're waiting for the storm to blow over," you said, unable to meet his eye.

"That's not—After everything I just said, you really think that's why I stayed?" he asked. You'd turned away from him, but you felt his hand on your shoulder, the kiss to your temple as he leaned in close.

"I wish I was the kind of person who didn't care what anyone thought, that I could simply exist in this relationship and not let anyone else in, but—but I'm not. I can't."

"You. Are. Enough," Harry murmured, pressing each word into your skin with a kiss. You closed your eyes, tears leaking from the corners as he curled himself around your body. One leg slid between yours, and you selfishly pulled him closer as he continued to murmur in your ear.

You fell asleep in your ex's arms, the weight of his body on yours more comforting than any blanket. When you woke up, Harry was there, but he wasn't wrapped around you anymore. He sat at the edge of your bed, wearing clothes for the first time since he'd set foot in your apartment.

"You're leaving?" you asked, voice scratchy with sleep.

"I'm supposed to go to Florence tomorrow," Harry said, bent over as he tied his shoes. "I've got a dozen messages on my phone asking where I am."

Something in Harry's voice sounded different, distant, just the way he sounded when you initially ran into him. It pulled at something in your heart, something that you'd been keeping at bay since you invited Harry into your apartment—the knowledge that this would eventually end.

"So you're—You were just going to leave? Without saying anything?"

You heard Harry sigh as he rested his head in his hands. "I thought it would be easier. Our last conversation seemed...final."

"I know, but—"

But what? Harry was right. This wasn't going anywhere. You told him you couldn't be in a relationship with him, and he was responding to that. You knew it was coming, but it didn't hurt any less now that the moment had finally come.

"You're right," you said eventually, sitting up in your bed. "We came here separately, of course you have plans. I'm sorry if I kept you."

"You didn't," Harry reassured. "There's nowhere I wanted to be the last few days, but we... we're broken up, and as much as I want to stay, I don't want to keep giving myself false hope."

Your fingers twitched, itching to reach out, to touch him, hold him. But he was right. As much as you loved this relationship limbo, that was all it was. Stringing you and Harry along would only hurt you more.

"I'm sorry," was all you could say. For too many things, none of which you could bring up without crying.

"Me too," Harry said.

Leaning across the bed, he kissed your forehead, then stood up. "One day you'll realize how extraordinary you are, and you wont care how people perceive you," he said, his thumb caressing your cheek. "And then you'll go and make someone the luckiest man in the world by giving yourself over to him completely. I'm just devastated it wasn't me."

You watched him go from the sanctuary of your bed, knowing the second he was out of sight you'd break down completely. The door closed with a soft clock, and even though you knew you shouldn't, you hurried over to your bedroom window, waiting anxiously to get one last glimpse of him.

Harry's lean figure appeared a couple minutes later, his head bent and shoulders slightly hunched, avoiding the few photographers who had been waiting for him to leave the building. You wanted him to turn around. You wanted to see his face one last time, a final farewell. But perhaps for his sake, he didn't, and you watched as he retreated down the street and turned down the road out of sight.

On your last day in Rome, you found a note he'd written.

Harry had hidden it in one of the pockets of his favorite of your sweaters, though you weren't exactly sure when. It wasn't very long, and the note itself was no more than a scrap of paper, one you'd nearly thrown out by accident. But you would've recognized his handwriting anywhere, and fond memories of notes you used to find among your things kept you from throwing away the folded paper and opening it instead.

Perhaps in another life. Unless you change your mind in this one, H.

[entirelysein-e]

『 Faking it 』

☼ synopsis: you fake your orgasm and are faced with the different ways these men handle it. Will they help or will you get punished?

☼ characters: Sukuna / Yuuta Okkotsu / Choso

☼ wc: 1461

☼ cw: fem!reader, afab!reader, mean Sukuna, double penetration, rough/cervix fucking, name calling, slightly mean/manipulative but whiny Yuuta, creampies, soggy Choso, (mutual) masturbation, multiple orgasms, overstimulation

☼ notes: enjoy the smut and don't forget to reblog!

ˑ༄ؘ ۪۪۫۫ ▹ Sukuna:

✧ oh boy. Are you perhaps dumb or don't care about your life?? Now WHY would you do that to yourself??

✧ You were riding your king just the way he likes it, strong arms bouncing you up and down his cock until you were a blabbering mess for him, almost drooling from how good you felt

✧ Sukuna didn't allow you to cum however, punishing you for no reason other than his own entertainment but the closer he got, the further you could feel your release slip away, his voice booming “let go- fucking cum,” he groaned out and you know better than to disobey your kings orders

✧ You weren't close anymore and decided to fake it, moaning and whimpering his name and title while you put on your best show but Sukuna could feel that this wasn't real, your pussy not gripping him as tight as it usually would and you were certainly not obnoxiously wet either

✧ while one set of hands held your hips down, allowing the tip of one of his cocks to sit right at your cervix, the other set of hands wrapped around your throat

✧ The aura around you shifted and so did his gaze from adoration for his queen to a derogatory one full of disappointment “You owe me this orgasm, slut. Do you really think that I'll let you get away with this?” His voice echoed and made you flinch, gasping for air

✧ You thought you were doing so well, being his good girl and giving him what he wanted but you just shoveled your own grave - knowing so when the mouth on his abs opened to lap at your clit while you remained impaled on his cock

✧ Sukuna enjoyed to watch you squirm on his lap only to sound so pathetic with every whimper and whine that fell from your sweet lips. Your noises the worship he craved until he felt your walls flutter around his cock for real this time

✧ “Such a needy little thing needing her clit played with,” he cooed and started to bounce you up and down his length again until you were creaming all over his cock, your eyes glistening with tears from how intense it felt when his cock bruised your cervix but he was right - you give your king what he asks for, not a weak excuse

✧ He was far from done with you, one round never enough to satisfy him so when he flipped you two over and pushed your head onto the hard ground beneath you knew the true punishment is only about to come

✧ both his cocks were lined up with your holes, ready to plow into you until you were ready to beg him to stop, until the safeword falls from your lips because his sweet queen can only take so much pleasure

✧ “just like that- take my fucking cocks,” he mused when you eagerly pushed against him until the tips slid into your weeping cunt and ass, begging him to destroy you. It's what you deserve for faking it.

ˑ༄ؘ ۪۪۫۫ ▹ Yuuta:

✧ Yuuta teased you all evening long with calculated touches, whispered promises of what the night will hold and when he finally touched you it just felt so good

✧ it was worth the wait, everything you've desired - skilled fingers playing with your clit and massaging your sweet spot as his lips latched onto your boobs, gently sucking on your nipples

✧ the squelching noises of your cunt filled the room with their lewdness but every time the knot was about to snap and your cunt started to flutter, Yuuta pulled away

✧ “Not yet, baby. Need you to cum around my dick,” he whispered into your neck as his kisses wandered from your chest to your neck to leave little marks there

✧ His words were full of promises but the edging eventually drove you further away from an orgasm each time and when he was finally on top of you, his dick aching hard when he sunk it into your heat it was unobtainable

✧ Yuuta was rutting into you with quick and calculated thrusts, hitting all the spots that had your toes curling but it just didn't push you over the edge, guilt building up inside of you

✧ He was whining into your neck, begging you to release with him because he couldn't without the feeling of your plush walls milking him dry and the guilt was eating you up alive

✧ you faked your orgasm just as his thrusts grew sloppy and you could feel his cum painting your walls white as the softest moans fell from his trembling lips but a sigh followed the moment he came down from his high

✧ With his cock still buried deep inside of you “You owe me this orgasm, baby… I worked so hard for it. Don't do that to me,” his voice cracked while trying to sound stern and the dangerous glint in his eyes lit up

✧ He took it as a jab to his ego as well as feeling bad for not making you feel as good as he felt so he made it his mission to make you feel good until you begged for him to stop

✧ Yuuta bit into your shoulder when his thrusts started once again, desperate mewls and whines falling from his lips as he pushed through his own overstimulation to punish you by making you orgasm over and over

✧ And when his hand slid between you to rub your clit you started to clench around him - this time for real and you could feel him smirk against your neck, not knowing the sinister thoughts his mind held. He would prove to you - and himself - that he's more than capable to get you off

ˑ༄ؘ ۪۪۫۫ ▹ Choso:

✧ You were Choso’s first in everything and he was always so eager to learn how to bring you pleasure in all ways possible

✧ the concept of faking an orgasm was new to him, something you've never done before and he didn't even know why anyone would do that to begin with so the thought never crossed his mind

✧ and Choso tried so hard to get you off that afternoon after you had such a stressful day, genuinely just wanting to help you relax and he knew the best way. When you sank down on his thick cock to ride him, your cunt immediately clenched around him

✧ Having learned that you like it best when he rubs your clit while you ride him he eagerly swiped his thumb over your sensitive bundle of nerves with just the right amount of pressure

✧ “you're taking me so well… so good for me,” he mumbled against the skin of your boobs as he gently suckled on your flesh while you bounced on his cock, desperate for an orgasm that just wouldn't come, your mind far too preoccupied to let your body relax

✧ So when Choso came, you clenched around him and moaned like you usually did when you came, not letting him know that it wasn't a real one - you knew he would be disappointed with himself and you didn't want to make him insecure since this wasn't his fault at all

✧ After a while of cuddles you excused yourself to the bathroom to “clean up” but in reality you sat down on the tiled floor and slid two fingers into your cunt, still dripping with Choso’s cum

✧ either you took to long or you weren't as sneaky as you thought because your lover knocked on the door shortly after, begging to come in and you opened the door, trying to act normal as if you were just cleaning up

✧ “I am aware of what you're doing in here… were you not satisfied? Did you want another round?” He questioned, looking like a hurt puppy until you explained to him that you did not orgasm - and still weren't able to do so because your head is just so noisy

✧ Choso sat down on the floor with you and nodded, his head working out the situation and why you would do what you did but it didn't matter in the end - all he wanted was for you to release and this time for real

✧ Your loving boyfriend doesn't care if it will take you hours to tumble over the edge, he will help you if you allow him, alternating between fingering and lazily fucking you until your body was so sensitive that his fingers coaxed an orgasm out of you by rubbing your clit - letting you fall from one orgasm right into the next

Networks: @pixelcafe-network @interstellar-inn @houseofsolisoccasum

[no-144444]

choices- c.sainz

summary: charles gives you an ultimatum.

pairing: carlos sainz x fem! leclerc! reader

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ

When Carlos overtook Charles you knew he was racing purely for himself. You both knew it could be his last podium, and maybe, just maybe, he didn’t want to share it with his teammate. It just sucked that his teammate was your brother. 

Charles had never been good at sharing when it came to racing, but he was a Ferrari driver through and through, he’d be a team player if he had t, and they were boh supposed to be team players. Carlos was done with it, and you understood why. He’d been second to Charles his entire time at Ferrari, second to Max in Toro Rosso, ousted by Danny Ric in Renault, and now he’d be in Williams. He was sick of being seen as less than his teammates, when, if he had that same backing they did, he could’ve been a World Champion. 

You waited at the barricade for the both of them, not quite sure how they would react. Charles came out first, you’d heard his radio message. 

He walked over to Alexandra with a sigh. “It’s such bullshit,” he scoffed. Then his eyes met yours. “You have to make a choice now, and it isn’t about love. It’s about blood, it’s about dad. He’s not welcome in our home. He’s not fucking welcome at Christmas, at birthdays, ever. You need to pick.”

You stared at him for a moment. He’d never been so harsh. He’d never given you an ultimatum before. Alexandra looked at you, concerned. “Charles, no. That’s not fair-”

“You’re not in this conversation,” he quipped. “Y/n. Choose.”

“Don’t talk to her like that-” 

“Y/n,” Carlos was in front of you, looking at you, practically pleading with you to choose him. You loved him, he loved you. Charles was your brother. 

You looked at your brother. “Carlos,” you said, your voice strong and clear. Carlos wrapped his arms around you as you stared at Charles. He nodded, his lips a line, before he walked off. 

“Thank you,” he whispered against your skin. You could feel the mix of sweat and tears against your neck. He pulled back with a smile. “Thank you. I love you.”

You smiled, tears welling up in your eyes. “Congratulations,” you whispered, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “I love you too.”

If Carlos had taught you one thing, it was that love shouldn’t hurt. Charles hurt you time and time again, always playing the older brother card whenever he wanted you to do something. Carlos never did that. He actually loved you. 

He wiped the tears off your cheeks as they fell, “We’ll work it out,” he promised you. “I’ll speak to him.” 

You shook your head. “Enjoy tonight my love,” you smiled. “You’re a winner. I love you.”

He offered a gentle smile. “I love you too.” 

You’d figure it out. Together.

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ

navigation for my blog :) (masterlist)

[aboutcustardcreams]

To a Love that Never Dies

Summary: Neither you nor Agatha can divine when Rio will return. Sometimes, the uncertainty feels like a blessing, but on other days or nights, as in this case—it becomes a real struggle. You and Agatha share a moment.

warnings: none, hurt/comfort.

previous chapter

1756

You had been quiet for a while, sitting cross-legged on your shared bedroll. The only sound you could focus on, other than the soft snoring of your son, sleeping close to you. His breathing kept you alive. The fire crackled and hissed, its warmth licking at your cheeks. Your fingers danced towards it, as if tempted to reach out and touch. Fire didn’t scare you– it should have, and yet there were worse things to be afraid of. You learned the hard way. You had to say goodbye to one of the loves of your life, to begin with. And the possibility of having to go through the same trauma, but with your son, was crashing you in the most unimaginable way, slowly but constantly. 

You let out another sigh. Agatha had lost count of how many you’d released that night. She was watching you intently from the corner of her eye, for minutes now, as your eyes darted from your son to the flames, then back to your son, bundled snugly beneath a thick blanket a few feet away from you. A small, tentative smile touched your lips as your gaze lingered, soft and loving, but also apprehensive. It was the look of a mother. The look of someone willing to do anything to grant their child’s safety. When Agatha scooted closer, her fingers found their way to your thigh, gently brushing it, to pull you out of your haze.

When you turned, the smile on your face didn’t reach your eyes. 

“Your silence is awfully worrying, my love,” she whispered gently. 

A wave of guilt rushed through you, as you pursed your lips, “I’m sorry–” It seemed the most sensible thing to say, because you were sorry and for so many things, you didn’t know where to start. 

Agatha’s brows knitted in a frown, then. Her confusion grew considerably the moment unshed tears clung to your lashes and welled up those beautiful eyes of yours, signaling her you were this close to crying.

“No, no, no, hey–” she cooed, her face leaning inches closer to yours, “whatever are you sorry for?” Always ever so gently, Agatha kept stroking your skin at your thighs. 

You focused on her hands and exhaled a shaky breath as you conjured up the memories of that day. It was supposed to be any other day really, and yet, as you and Agatha plotted to corner a lone witch who was wandering by herself in the woods, Nicky had decided to interfere. He didn’t just ask you not to kill the witch. No, he had actually begged in a way you knew you couldn’t refuse. In a way that kind of paralyzed both Agatha and you. ‘We can kill more witches tomorrow’, he had said, hopeful. That sentence had hit you like thousands of bricks crushing upon you. The weight of that plea had been unbearable, not just for what it meant, but for what it revealed. What if Nicky was starting to believe that killing witches was something normal to do, something that needed to be done, every other day? But worse, so much worse, what if he felt responsible, as much as you and Agatha were? The way he said ‘we’, that single, damning word–  You’d rather die than let him carry even a shred of your guilt. Of the actions only you and Agatha were to blame for. 

“I feel like I let him down,” you muttered breakingly, unable to elaborate further. 

Agatha’s frown deepened as she shook her head slowly but firmly. She had her suspicions that your distress could revolve around that. But she would be damned before letting you believe that, in any way, you had disappointed your son, “You did exactly the opposite. Don’t you see? You… we showed mercy.” Despite the circumstances.

Your gaze shifted to the flame again, as you nibbled at the inside of your cheek. You didn’t know if that was true. You wanted it to be, but–

Agatha’s hands ran up to your face then, fingers brushing the curve of your jaw before settling beneath your chin. She turned it, eager to meet your gaze, to dive into those eyes of yours and suck away your pain, “you listened to him. You did exactly what he asked of us.”

Despite your initial snort, the curve of a tight smile crossed your lips, “how could we not?” 

Agatha nodded with a grin, as she playfully nudged at your arm, “he’s too much like you not to question every single thing we do.” 

When she heard you chuckle quietly, her gaze softened. There you were, the real you, slowly crawling back to her. 

“He’s got the best of each of us.” 

Agatha’s chin tilted up, pride flickering across her face at your remark, “absolutely.”

“Do you ever think about her?” She knew right away who you were talking about, but waited for you to say her name to answer you, “I mean, about Rio.”

Agatha raised her head to better look at you in the eyes, “Course, I do–”, she admitted with a tight smile. There was no point in lying, was there? Despite everything, Rio would always be a part of her heart that unfortunately got ripped from her, from you. And Nicky. 

Your features dimmed a bit, and your nose scrunched up in thought, “she warned us, so we would be prepared for that day to come, and yet–” you exhaled, your voice still barely above a whisper. So small and fearful, Agatha’s heart ached right away. 

She slid an arm around your middle, “and yet?” She repeated, encouragingly, her fingers smothered over your arm. 

You sighed. “It’s not just Nicky I’m worried about,” your voice came out in a low murmur, and Agatha had to lean closer to you to grasp it. “It’s Rio, too. I’m terrified that someday this love I feel for her will twist into hate.” And that was the last thing you wanted. Because you loved Rio, despite everything. And you wanted to keep that sentiment intact, because it made you, you. “But if she takes him–” your voice dropped in fear, your chest suddenly too tight to allow your words to slip out completely. You were afraid of the person you’d become if she succeeded and you failed. Afraid of change in general. 

Agatha’s arms tightened around you, and at the same moment her lips pressed against the top of your head, in a small, comforting gesture, that served for the both of you. 

“I just wonder why–?” Your voice croaked, and you had to swallow a lump in your throat, before continuing, “why does it have to be this way?” 

She clenched her eyes at your question, “I don’t know, my love. I wish I knew, I wish–” 

“It’s just not right, Agatha. It cannot be.”

It was easier to be delusional, to fool yourself into believing that as long as you were alive, Nicky would be too. All you had to do was kill witches every other day. It was wrong, a cowardly move, but neither of you knew any better. 

“It’s not,” she muttered firmly. When you pulled away to take in her face, her fingers smothered your hair, exactly as she would do with Nicky every morning, “I wish things were different,” her lips curved into a faint, fragile smile that barely held. 

You nodded weakly. She was trying her best, too. Honestly, at this point you thought everyone was doing his part. Rio included. After all, she was giving Nicky time, when he wasn’t even supposed to take his first breath.

When a single tear slipped from Agatha’s eyes, it was your turn to brush it away. 

“I never thought there would come a time where I’d hate one of you.” 

Your eyes widened in shock at those words. 

A pout formed on your lips. “No, hey. Don’t talk like that,” shakingly, reverently, your palms cradled her cheeks. Your eyes welled up once again, you couldn’t help it. Agatha didn’t hate Rio, of that you were sure. And you didn’t either. “Maybe the answer is to not hate her. I mean, who says we have to?” 

She squeezed her eyes shut and said nothing for a moment, thinking, mulling over the possibility of still loving her, despite everything. “If she does take him, as she said she would–” she hesitated, her voice dripping with a whirlwind of emotions. Fear, anger, frustration. Agatha had always known what Rio was capable of, that she was a much more powerful witch than she could ever dream to be. And if it never bothered her at first, it surely did now because she was powerless against her, against the things she could do. 

“I’m not sure I could ever forgive her. Damn–” a breathless chuckle, humourless and bitter escaped her. “I’m not sure I’ll ever be the same…” 

You stilled and looked momentarily taken aback by her words. Agatha was being honest with you, she was once again opening her heart to you, but the weight on your shoulders could only duplicate, because you and only you were the key to save Nicky, to prevent things from changing drastically. And if you failed, it was on you. Agatha’s pain, Nicky’s and yours. Even Rio’s. 

Your jaw tightened, as you tutted, “sometimes I wish we could jump to that, end all the suffering now and give him a proper chance.”

In order to live, Nicky needed to die first. 

Agatha’s face paled, however she didn’t dare to interrupt you. 

“And I know that my magic doesn’t come without risks, but I’m ready. Hell- it feels like I was born for this. I can save him, and I will– no matter the cost– no matter how much it will shatter my soul to–” To hold your lifeless child’s body.

Noticing your struggle, Agatha decided to step in, “hey, no, shhh– don’t go there. He’s here. He’s still right here.” 

It was true. But for how long still?

Leaning closer, Agatha ran both her hands up and down your arms, in a featherlike touch, meaning to ease your panic, “I’ll be there with you, you hear me? You won’t have to face it alone. Never. Your price to pay is mine, too,” she promised solemnly. 

Hesitantly, you attempted a weak nod of your head and she nodded back, in an encouraging way. 

“And then…” She trailed off, fingers gently ghosting over your skin. Never leaving. Never daring to. You were her anchor, after all. “We will be okay. Finally free.” 

It was nice to imagine a happy ending. So you focused on that, you had to. A pang of relief washed over you, as soon as you did. She was right. Of course, she was. She had to be. You nodded again, a watery chuckle slipped from you. 

Agatha opened her arms, then, “Come here,” pulling you closer, she pressed her forehead against yours. When her mouth brushed against the corner of yours, your eyes glimmered, and so did Agatha’s, despite still being a bit red and puffy for all the crying. 

After a moment of silence, you cleared your throat to speak again, “I was thinking—” your eyes darted back to Nicky. You stared at him for a bunch of seconds, memories of that morning coming back to you, and causing your lips to press in a line.  He didn’t look well. You wanted to blame the light of the moon for making his skin appear so milky, yet you knew it had nothing to do with that. He needed help. Magic, to be exact. And that day, you and Agatha had failed to grant him some.

“You should take some of my power— you know, for Nicky,” you tumbled out. 

As soon as your words slipped out, Agatha pulled away from you, her eyes stared into yours, long and hard and shadows fell across her face. 

You winced, “Agatha.. I know it’s scary, but–” 

Her eyes narrowed, as she sat up, putting a small distance between you and her. Her tone came out sharp, “I’m sorry but you don’t know anything.” 

You took the blow in silence, looking away from her. It hurt. You knew your request could upset her and it did. But it was worth a try, “if you say so.” 

She raised her eyebrows when you said that, then she grabbed your chin, forcing you to keep your gaze on her. She wasn’t going to let you look away, not now, not with that tone you’d used, condescending, as if you were the only one fighting, the only one willing to try anything. 

“You know I can’t do this,” her breath hitched, frustration filling her voice. “I could kill you, damnit!” 

All you wanted was to help your son. A soft hum tumbled from your lips, causing her heart to burst, quite literally. You knew what she was capable of, and yet you still believed she could stop in time, if she only tried. 

Her fingers softened against your jaw, so did her voice, “tell me why you’d suggest something like that?”

Nicky didn’t look good, that’s why. 

You stared at her with the same intensity, “because Nicky needs it, Agatha.” 

She stilled for a moment and clenched her jaw, “That’s not enough reason to willingly and dumbly sacrifice yourself!” 

You swallowed– you didn’t mean to. But before you could say it, she urged on. “He needs you. Hell, I need you. You’re his only hope to– we just talked about that!” Agatha wanted to scream, to raise her voice, you saw that by the way her magic was trembling and gathering around her, around you. You sure pushed a sore point there. 

You recoiled then, “okay… okay,” you muttered, reaching out to touch her shaky hands. She was right, you knew she was, but the fear for your son’s health had blurred your judgment for a second. 

Agatha’s voice dropped, “what makes you think I could ever live with myself if I took your life?” 

A whimper tumbled from your lips. “I’m sorry— I only asked because I trust you,” you trailed off, your voice shaking a bit. “I’m not deliberately asking you to kill me. I would never. I quite like being alive,” your attempt at humor made Agatha crack a smile, a tight, very brief gesture, you wished you could freeze in time to always replay in your mind. 

“Well flash news for you, I can’t,” she muttered, in a lower tone. Resigned, even. “So please, don’t bring it up again.”

You nodded carefully. “Okay. It’s fine.” It really wasn’t but you couldn’t really force her, so you didn’t push it any further. “I’m sorry I upset you.” 

When Agatha lifted her gaze once again to meet your eyes, she noticed your face all scrunched up and her stomach dropped. How soft she was for you was beyond her understanding. 

“If you apologize one more time, so help me Dark Mother–” she responded, her tone a tad more playful and light than a moment ago. 

You gave her a sheepish look then. 

“I understand you. I truly do,” she breathed out, her fingers curling around yours. “I just can’t bear the thought of putting you in danger. If something were to go wrong–” 

Your eyes softened, you looked at her in a way to say that it wasn’t necessary for her to continue, “I got it. It was a bad idea, stop tormenting yourself now, ‘kay?” 

She scoffed, yet you could clearly see her lips curling up a bit, “easy for you to say after nearly giving me a heart attack-!” she pulled back with a click of her tongue. 

You chuckled again, “I’m sorry–”

Agatha rolled her eyes, which only made you chuckle harder. Hadn’t she told you to stop apologizing for whatever reason? You had to bite your bottom lip then, when she cocked an eyebrow at you. Agatha’s hands slid down and gripped at your waist. With extreme ease, she pulled your body even closer to hers, and then, she pressed a gentle kiss on your forehead. When she pulled away, she caught you blushing and her heart bursted with so much love. 

You cleared your throat, as she tucked a strand of your hair from your face, “you’re such a wonderful mom to our son, Agatha Harkness.” 

She stilled. You could clearly see the emotion in her eyes, raw and vulnerable. It meant the world coming from you, “you’re not bad yourself,” she teased, making you nod and chuckle again. Then she turned serious, her thumb grazing your cheekbones, eyes getting lost in every detail of your face, “I couldn’t have asked for a better mother for him, actually.”

You looked momentarily taken aback, but in a good way. 

She adored everything about you, every expression that crossed your face, every little reaction she could draw from you. There wasn’t a single thing about you that felt out of place. You were beautiful, so beautiful, sometimes she thought she  didn’t deserve you. 

Unaware of Nicky stirring beneath his blanket, his small body shifting as he rubbed sleepily at his eyes, Agatha leaned in and placed her lips, warm and plump, against yours. Her hands rested firmly on your waist, grounding you in the moment, while your fingers found their way into her thick, unruly hair, twisting and tugging gently exactly how she liked it. 

Agatha hummed pleasantly, a smile curling upwards, "delicious,” she praised. 

Your eyes lit up, a chuckle slipped out, “thanks. You’re yummy,too.” 

Agatha threw her head back and blew a raspberry, “yummy? How old are you? One hundred and fifty?”

You scoffed. Before you could reply to that, another voice preceded you. Both you and Agatha spun around towards your son sitting down in the middle of his bedroll. 

“Moms?” He said with a yawn. 

“Hey, big man,” you brushed a stray lock of hair back, tucking it behind your ear, “What’s up?” 

He looked pale, paler than usual, but you tried with all your being not to focus too much on that detail. You’d kill a witch first thing in the morning tomorrow. That was the plan. It was going to be fine. 

“Can I sleep with you?” 

“Of course, you can–” Agatha smiled. “Hop here,” she patted the spot between you and her, and he immediately jumped to his feet, his blanket still over his shoulders, as he landed between you two. Once settled, you three laid back, your arms wrapped instinctively around Nicky’s body, his cheek on your chest, your chin above his head. Agatha snuggled closer, she placed a protective arm over you and Nicky, and pressed a soft kiss over Nicky’s temple. 

“Better?” You asked him. 

“Very much. Thanks.” 

A small smile tugged at your lips, as you stared at him with pure fondness, occasionally peppering small kisses over the crown of his head. In the meantime, Agatha ghosted her free hand over Nicky’s hair, knowing way too well that little trick would make him fall asleep.  

When you lifted your chin, yours and Agatha’s eyes met. She mouthed ‘I love you’ in your direction, which made your heart flutter. You gave her a grin, before reaching out, trying not to disturb Nicky’s sleep, and pressed your lips to hers in a kiss– a goodnight kiss, perhaps. As your lips parted, you stayed close, your breath mingling with hers as you whispered, “love you, too.” 

[helplessautomaton]

WC 876

addon to the last post abt yandere daisuke,, sorry gang i lowkey forgor. also, i dont think i can keep using ingame screenshots for the header so i might ditch that because i don't want to use outside sources. tbf i could just draw my own for that- anyways!

i straight up forgot about the please aspect and did not take advantage of that! mightve gotten cared away, apologies hehe, also this is my last post for today, sorry

~

its gonna start off slow with daisuke, he just wants praise from the people around him who know better! he just wants to know hes doing a good job so please tell him he is. as his obsession starts to grow hes unaware of his expression with his eyes. staring at you, expecting— wanting praise, just to give him that extra boost. as time progresses along with his attachment towards you, no matter what part you have in the crew, he tries to help you. his cheery smile making it hard to resist and say no. gently grabbing your hands while you two take a break, blabbering on about he managed to do and going off topic about whatever. all this while he has a golden smile directed at you, the way his eyes crinkle at the corners to match.

when you hang around swansea and daisuke, you semi-jokingly praise him to give him more of a boost. its sends him over the moon to know hes doing right by you! swansea makes little teasing comments when daisuke is out of ear. as he starts to get more conscious of his obsession with you, he acts on it more knowingly. trying to push the buttons he know works even when its starting wear off and you hesitantly go along with it.

he wants to share his happiness you give to him, he wants to see you happy. at this point you are his world and hes not willing to give that up to anyone. even if it makes him a little uncharacteristicly harsh to the other crew members. he doesnt risk what he doesnt have to, even if curly or anya warm up to you the same way he originally started out. thats not to say it tugs at daisuke and makes him annoyed, he knows its not irrational but for jimmy he is justified if he dares to try anything. i feel like he would over look or straight up not notice if swansea treat you very slightly better because lets be honest, hes probably getting that same deal as well. theres so much daisuke wants to do but due to the environment he cant, but him stealing a packet or two of sugar just for you can make up for it.

really at this point, daisuke is at your beck n call whether you want it or not, hes so attached he refuses to let go. hes still his usual self when hes only with you, optimistic and bright eyed. even if swansea is hitting him in the back of the head to make him focus. but during this point everyone is starting to notice daisuke's behavior and the frustration sets in. even if curly tries to redirect him back to speed, daisuke needs you. attempting to praise him just to get him to do his job wont exactly work if you have to speed off to your intended chores. jimmy's comments start to become more sharp as he glares at the both of you while all you can do is look away, really just not wanting this either.

after the crash, he uses his tears to just get something, mostly he wants reassurance to refresh his optimism. especially when he gets drunk on the mouthwash, he cant help it, hes still doing a good job despite it all, right? he tries his best to keep you content in anyway shape or form, even if it means hiding you away from everyone for a little while. afterall, what can he do anymore. so please, just let him make you smile for sometime before the situation breaks back through to reality.

//

"daisuke can you please keep on? youre doing a wonderful job we can go on a break soon." you try to charm your way through, swansea was getting more snappy at the both of you. daisuke's let his smile takeover, his eyes crinkling, nodding he continues under whatever swansea needs him to do. the tension in the room was clear, your jaw was tensed up, this had been the 6th day you had to do this. you worked beside anya not swansea, yet daisuke needed you or else youd be hearing complaints from 4 people of the crew out of 5. you werent even paying attention to the way either swansea or daisuke worked on whatever they were working on, yet daisuke called out to you. "alright i think we got it all done for now, swansea said im good to get on break now."

you sighed slightly and let daisuke lead the way, joking and telling you whatever crossed his mind. "i was doing a good job right?" his quiet voice snapped you back to where you were at, stopping just in time so you didnt accidentally knock over daisuke. "uhh,, yeah, it did look like you were, um, working hard! just keep doing what swansea wants you to do."

daisuke looks over to you, watching you carefully with his eyes before he breaks out into a usual smile and carries on with going into the lounge.

[thememestrider]

Come Back to Me - Mephiston x F! Reader

Wrote this for the beautiful @solspina : I hope I did your man justice :)

Sypnosis: Following a psychic breakdown, the only person who can bring Mepheston back from the brink is his beloved.

C/W: Blood, angst, reverse hurt/comfort, I've only read Dante's novels so my knowledge of Mephiston is second hand at best, I did do some research and I'm confident in how I wrote him but I apologise in advance for the inevitable ooc and lore inaccurate moments XP, unedited so probably errors and typos scattered about.

Mephiston bleeds.

Blood flows untempered from his nose. It leaks from his ears. The taste of copper coats his tongue and fangs, and tears streaked with red tumble in streams down his cheeks. His soul is bleeding, too. Punctured by the warp, he can feel what little is left of his humanity pouring out into the void to be devoured by the unspoken horrors that call it home.

But he does not stop. He can't. For if he were to fail now, the flagship Covenant of Baal, as well as half of Lord Dante's entire fleet would be lost in the warp forever.

His brothers are relying on him to get them home. Trusting him to get them through the warp unscathed. He must not fail them. He mustn't.

"Lord Mephiston!"

A deep voice made tight by fear breaks through Mephiston's reverie. A space marine; a librarian. Mephiston searches for a name, but his mind hasn't the strength to find it.

"My lord!" the librarian shouts again. "The ritual is unstable. We must leave the warp. Now!"

"No." Amplified by the warp and his own, growing fury, Mephiston's voice booms like a war drum. "Baal is close. I can feel it. A few moments longer and we will be there."

"You'll kill yourself, my lord! Or worse, you'll-"

Mephiston cuts him off with a growl. He knows what the librarian is insinuating; that should he loose control of his powers, he could kill everyone on this ship. The marine isn't wrong, Mephiston understands that better than anyone. But that doesn't stop it from stinging just a little when it is brought up.

Which is why I must succeed now. I must not fail my brothers. I must show them they can rely on me. That they can trust me.

The librarian continues to shout his warnings, but Mephiston is no longer listening. The pull he feels towards his destination is strengthening. When he looks out through the infinite dark of the void before him, he can see Baal outlined in red.

So close.

Pain takes him in a vice-like grip. His body seizes. Daemons rake their claws down his soul. They're feeding off his power, he realises. Preparing to use him as a gateway into the material world. In his weakened, exhausted state, Mephiston isn't sure if he can fight them off.

Through the cloud of psychic agony, he remembers words spoken to him by Lord Dante, just days ago.

"You are my friend, Mephiston, but know this. Should you ever become a threat to this chapter or humanity at large, I will strike you down myself."

Dante had said it as a vow. Not only as a leader, but as a friend. It pains Mephiston as much as the creatures tearing into his soul. He wonders if the librarians are seeking out the chapter master so he may fulfill that vow now.

A daemon sinks its fangs into him. He feels them puncture his hearts and shear through what's left of his strength. He screams. Eyes slamming shut, chest heaving from the pain. His mind is determined to hold on, but his body is failing. The strain is too much. It seems the librarian- still Mephiston can't recall his name- had been right.

"Meph? Can you hear me?"

I am sorry, my brothers. I am sorry, my beloved. I was not strong enough. I believed that I was, but I am not.

Her voice cannot hope to pierce the cacophony that is the warp. Yet, somehow, it does.

"Just focus on me, Meph."

Throne, her voice is beautiful. It was one of the first things he'd noticed about her. Wielding both strength and kindness in equal parts, just like her heart.

"You can do this, Mephiston," she says to him. "You can break free. You always do. Just come back to me. Like you always do."

Mephiston opens his eyes. Amidst the haze of psychic madness, the planet Baal remains tantalisingly near. But Mephiston is not searching for it any more. He's searching for her.

"I love you, Meph," she says. "I love you so much. No matter what happens to you or how much you change, I love you all the same."

In spite of everything he is enduring right now, her words pull at Mephiston's hearts like nothing else ever could. It drive him to go faster. Push harder. Tear his way free from the warp and get back to her. It means cutting the warp-jump short; there will be questions from the captains, maybe even Lord Dante himself. It means failing his duty, failing his brothers. But Mephiston does not care. He would rather fail them all a thousand times than cause his woman pain.

The shift from the warp to the real is near instant, and far less physically taxing that vice versa. Typically, it'd be as simple as opening one's eyes. But Mephiston is weakened, his body on the brink of total failure. The real world returns with the force of a whip, and immediately, Mephiston's world is dominated by agony.

The Lord of Death falls to his knees. Blood spills from his eyes and nose. His long silver hair clings to the sweat pouring off his shoulders and chest. His vision blurs. The room begins to spin. Again, Mephiston feels himself falling. This time, though, a pair of soft, nimble hands catch him.

"Easy, Meph. Easy. I've got you."

Her tone is gentle. Her voice, as soft as her touch. Her body trembles under his weight. In spite of his hurts, Mephiston pushes himself upright so as not to lean on her anymore. She frames his face with her hands. He can see tears in her eyes. "Gauis!" she shouts. "Fetch an Apothecary."

The librarian called Gauis nods and takes off without another word. Mephiston realises he was the same librarian who'd been shouting warnings at him before.

With Gauis gone, it is only the two of them here, now. It's then that she throws her arms around Mepheston's neck and drags him into a crushing embrace. "You silly, silly man," she whispers. Mephiston realises she is weeping. "Don't you ever do that to me again. Ever."

She squeezes him tighter. The sleeves of her shirt are growing stained with his sweat and blood, but she doesn't seem to care. Though he barely has the strength to raise him arms, Mephiston returns her embrace in earnest. "I am sorry, my sweet." His voice is thick with fatigue and emotion. He hates it when she cries. He hates it even more when he is the cause. "I thought I had it. I have done this so many times before, I-"

"I don't care." Arms still wrapped around his neck, she draws away just enough so as to meet his eye. Her hands find the base of his scalp. Ever so gently, she strokes him there. "The next time Gauis tells you to cut a ritual short," she tells him. "You listen. If not for your own safety, then for my own peace of mind."

Mephiston looks at her. Since his transformation, his hearts have lost much of their capacity for compassion. But what shreds are leftover belong solely to her. Every piece of him that is still human, still a man, loves her as fiercely as they possibly can. All of this, he lets show in his face. It almost moves him to tears. "I will," he says. "I promise."

She smiles at him. It's the most gorgeous thing he's ever seen. Ignoring the blood plastering his face, she leans in and kisses Mephiston, so fiercely it makes his jaw ache. Mephiston struggles to return it in kind, almost tipping over backward from the force with which she presses into him. He winces as the room sways again. She catches his head and guides him to the floor. "It's okay, Meph. You're okay." Gently, she lowers herself down beside him. "The Apothecary will be here soon. For now, just rest."

Without thinking, Mephiston reaches for her hand. She takes it in both of hers and squeezes it tight. "Thank you, " he murmurs.

She brushes her lips across his knuckles. "You know you don't need to thank me. Not now, not ever."

[sam-out-of-energy]

The angst, THE ANGST its consuming me

I had to write something based off this ask because oH MY GODD

This already became too long so its a cliffhanger sorry teehee

______

They'd been ambushed.

Upon trying to retrieve materials for Ratchet the entire base had suddenly sounded the alarm for intruders.

Prowl had quickly scooped Jazz from a pile of metal scrap into his servo and then inside his cockpit. They'd ran, making it to the very end of the hangar before mechas had walled them off.

It was a stand-off- well- emphasis on was, as it had taken about two nano-seconds of Prowl and the others standing there against mechas before Vortex had already began tearing robots apart.

Now chaos reigned as the crew, including Prowl, Jazz, Vortex and First aid, were in the ringer, fighting off an overwhelming amount of mechas.

"It's like they knew we were coming!" First aid comm'd Jazz while the two sat inside cockpits that were trembling from the punches, the mech's visors coated in an unhealthy layer of energon and oil.

"These ain't normal mechas either." Jazz replied.

"Explain?" Prowl's voice was eerily casual considering the situation at hand, wrenching an arm off an opposing mecha before kicking them back.

"They're faster! Stronger too-" First aid noted, watching intensely from Vortex's visor, admittedly a little curious.

"No doubt they used Prowl's parts to rebuild them."

"To hell with 'em! Let's be done with this and go-"

Jazz was caught mid-sentence when Prowl shook.

The inside of the cockpit pulsed, like something had struck him, which confused Jazz because for a short while they'd kept a good distance from the mechas.

Then Prowl just....stood. Very still. Very still.

"Prowl? Prowler?" Jazz scooted forwards and grabbed the controls, pushing them but they didn't budge. Nothing did.

"Prowl?! You're not obeyin' my controls-" Jazz questioned.

"I'm- not- obeying- my own controls either-" Prowl choked out, straining his joints with a loud creak.

["Hello Jazz."]

Both the pilot and mecha stiffened.

Jazz's eyes widened. He recognized the voice that suddenly rang out inside Prowl.

"Shockwave?! Where are you! What've you done t' Prowl?!" Jazz jumped up from the pilot seat (not having been strapped in to begin with)

["I am nowhere you need to concern yourself with. I am simply testing out my new technology."]

Jazz looked around. He could hear a muffled First Aid calling out for Vortex in the distance.

["So, Prowl, was it?. Good to know. Now, let's get well acquainted."]

Prowl shook again, sending Jazz tumbling around as the mech bent over, clutching his helm.

Something flashed. Prowl felt electricity buzzing inside of him, phantom pains in his joints. Like his wing was once again broken, like his optics were busted in and losing vision of reality arround him. His body wasn't his and it wouldn't listen to him.

He tried to keep his expression cool at the face of this new threat but his coolness came crashing down when he looked up.

Quintessons. So. Many. Quintessons. Fire, blazing high like a giant barrier.

The realization struck him like his processor's loud ERROR alarm.

He was on Praxus.

No, he was- no-

Prowl felt like hurling.

He felt something inside him twist and turn, something wicked. Something unnatural, something that was definetly not meant to be inside him.

-

Jazz could do nothing but watch his mech tremble and shake, straining and squirming like something was crawling under his plating.

"J- azz-" Prowl gasped.

"Prowl! I'm here!" Jazz called out, grabbing the controls tigthly despite the fact that they were moving.

"H- elp-"

The plea came out in a stuttered, glitching mess but it was all Prowl needed to say before Jazz began pushing. Pushing, pulling. Whenever the stick moved one way he'd move it back.

"Shockwave, stop! Let him go!" He yelled. He didn't know what sick game the mad scientist was playing but he was not about to let him take Prowl from him.

["It is futile, pilot. Give up."]

Jazz grit his teeth and kept pushing.

Prowl's fight was made easier, so he managed to break free of the illusion for long enough to push with Jazz, taking a step back on his own from the (imaginary) fire surrounding him. (It was all his in his head, surely). Coolant rushed down Prowl's backplates, his motors overexerting themselves to keep control to himself.

["...I see how it must be. Very well, Jazz."]

Prowl was jerked away from his mindscape, straggling, back into the frey, loud echoes of crashing and crumbling of metal plating and concrete. The mechas weren't focusing on him, focusing all their efforts into trying to stop Vortex from tearing down the entire hangar.

Prowl had managed to take two steps forward to go assist before he'd felt more electricity surge through him. Oddly enough, it didn't stop him this time.

What did stop him was the pained scream that carried into Prowl's audials.

Jazz.

"Jazz? Jazz!" Prowl called, stopping and looking down at his chest.

Jazz clutched his head, crying out. Something coursed through him like a painful needle and thread, connecting him to Prowl even more than before, but not in a good way. In a way that hurt, every muscle in his body clenching. It was like he was connecting to a mecha for the first time again, but the feeling of it amplified twicefold.

Then, it was like he saw his own body slump. No, he was slumped. Jazz couldn't move, couldn't speak or scream anymore (In reality he was still screaming).

No, no no no no-

He saw white. A bright light in his eyes. A smell of burning flesh, of ethanol, medical grade liquids in multitudes.

Eyes. He saw faceless masks and he saw so many eyes, shining like the headlights of a car, blinding him into submission, into staying silent despite the aching.

Make it stop, make it stop-

-

"Stop!! Don't hurt him!"

Prowl demanded, the cockpit echoing with his voice, layered over Jazz's screams.

["I will do what is necessary."]

Prowl called for Jazz's name again, opening the cockpit hatch, desperate to reach in and grab the other, until he realized he was still in the middle of a Vortex vs. Vortex's victims skirmish and pulling Jazz out could only risk him accidentally dropping the other or Jazz being hit by something.

Prowl stepped back from the fight, wracking his processor. He had to do something, something to help!

It was easier with him, Jazz could just use the controls to help him fight against this weird virus, but Jazz? Shockwave was most likely inside Jazz's head due to his connection with Prowl, what could Prowl even do to help?! He couldn't forcefully remove or disconnect Jazz. The other was wriggling and twisting in pain, Prowl's servos were way too big to do anything with him without causing further injury.

An anti-virus, a firewall. Something to block Shockwave out. Prowl had to reboot and rewire his systems for that and all of that had to begin with getting Shockwave to release Jazz.

"Please, stop-" Prowl half-blurted out amidst his panicking. He couldn't tell what was happening to Jazz, but he could feel the other. He felt Jazz clutching the arm rest of the pilot's seat, thrashing and kicking on the cold metal of the cockpit floor. He heard Jazz scream and wail, inaudibly begging for release.

["I will stop when you relinquish control to me."]

"So you can use me?" Prowl snapped, his engine revving from the anger, his optic ridge bent down so hard it almost covered his optics.

["As you wish."]

Jazz went silent.

Prowl heard the thump of a body hitting the floor.

[s-lverwing]

I’LL CHEW YOU, I’LL GO THROUGH YOU

pairing. emperor caracalla x wife!reader.

summary. What is the meaning of yet another scar upon your body and mind? When your husband’s illness twists his mind, turning him against you, and he accuses you of betrayal.

word count. 2.6k

warnings. angst, toxic relationships. heavy pinning. violence. blood. english isn’t my first language.

a/n. please if you enjoyed this leave a comment, reblog, whatever u want 🐛 I USED CARACALLA’s BORN NAME LUCIUS AT SOME POINT DONT BE JUMPSCARED.

The room was quiet tonight -- perhaps it was because the day had been full of entertainment for Emperor Caracalla, leaving him content and sated, pleased. Even Dundus, his ever-watchful companion, seemed subdued as he chewed absentmindedly on a piece of grapefruit, the soft sound barely breaking the silence. You caught the faint noise and felt the corner of your lips twitch upward—an involuntary, yet fleeting smile—as your fingers curled tightly into the delicate fabric of your dress.

Still, the knot of nerves in your stomach refused to break. It was no secret that Caracalla’s tolerance for absence was rather thin. His emotions were volatile, and the palace staff whispered of the storms that brewed when his wife strayed too long from his sight. Not even you were immune to the fear of those rages—not because you thought he would harm you, but because you knew too well the weight of his anguish when it overtook him. It wasn’t the anger itself that frightened you; it was the aftermath.

The soft sound of your sandals against the polished white marble echoed faintly through the chamber as you entered, the sound drawing Dundus’s small, curious eyes to you. His chewing ceased, his tiny body shifting toward you as though to signal your arrival. Inevitably, Caracalla’s gaze followed.

You hesitated under it, swallowing against the dryness in your throat. His eyes, so often shadowed with something too complicated to name, rested on you now, and though his expression remained stoic, there was a flicker of something—curiosity, might have been if he was another person, but Caracalla’s eyes were ready to blame you for something. It was the expression he usually gave to his twin brother, Geta. Your nerves prickled under his scrutiny, the tension coiling tighter in your chest and stomach.

Would he speak? Demand to know where you had been, his voice sharp with suspicion and laced with the undercurrent of his illness, or would he remain silent, his displeasure a force pushing you away? Tonight, it seemed he had chosen silence. He turned away, his focus shifting deliberately to Dundus. For a moment, you felt an unexpected pang of relief—until the realization hit you that his indifference might be worse than his fury.

You knew how quickly the calm could shatter, how easily the weight of whispers in the palace could drive him to the edge. They spoke of his instability, of his twin’s steadier hand, of how Caracalla’s mind was clouded by the slow and insidious progression of his illness. You had seen the way his jaw tightened, the way his hands trembled ever so slightly when he thought no one was looking.

And yet, for all his wild unpredictability and impulsiveness, you had learned to weather his storms. Others feared his wrath—his soldiers, his council, even his brother at times—but you knew the truth of it. Even when he turns away from clarity and starts asking for your head to the Praetorians guards, still, you knew better.

There had been a time when his moments of vulnerability after the storm had frightened you, when you hadn’t known how to respond to the sight of an emperor—the ruler of Rome—curled in on himself, tears soaking your tunic as he clung to you like a drowning man. But now, you know him better. You know how to reach him when no one else could. It was a power that even his twin did not possess, and it had become both your burden and your solace.

You stepped further into the room, your heartbeat steadying as you drew closer. Caracalla did not turn, his posture rigid as if he were willing himself not to acknowledge you. The silence stretched taut between you, but you had grown accustomed to its weight.

“Love—”

You didn’t even make it past his name before his voice cut through the stillness of the chamber.

“—Where were you?”

His question was soft, measured, but there was something brewing behind the words, a quiet tremor that betrayed the storm building inside him. His voice wavered, a thin thread barely holding his emotions in check. It was the calm before the inevitable storm.

You stood frozen, as though the marble beneath your sandals had turned molten, holding you in place. The space between you both seemed enormous—far greater than the few strides it would take to reach him. Not just physically, but mentally.

Your eyes flicked to his hands, trembling faintly at his sides. You’d seen this before. It was the prelude to something larger, a wave of emotion that would crash over you before you could even think to steady yourself against it.

“I was with Lucilla,” you said softly, your voice barely above a whisper. You chose your words carefully, as though you were addressing a wounded animal instead of your very human husband. Your tone was gentle.

You reached for your hair to take one of the medicinal flowers she always carries around, as a proof.

But he wasn’t having any of it—he was far too lost within his mind to care about anything you had to say. Dundus was the first to sense the chaos, clutching tightly to Caracalla’s hair as though to anchor him to reality.

“You always lie!” he roared, his voice cracking with raw emotion as he stood abruptly from his opulent chair. The first glass shattered against the marble floor, fragments glittering like jagged stars under the candle light. “You’re just like Geta! You—you and him are against me! Like everyone! So don’t lie to me, don’t lie to me… I—I know you were with him. Yes, yes! Someone told me…”

His ringed finger jabbed toward you, trembling as his accusations poured forth, each word more unhinged than the last. His breath came in short, erratic bursts, his chest heaving as though he were fighting an invisible foe. His entire body shook as he tried, and failed, to hold onto the last frail threads of composure. And even as he accused you of treachery, of betrayal, you couldn’t bring yourself to feel anger. There was no room for that—not when his anguish stood so naked before you, consuming him from within. Your love for him ran deeper than any wound his words could inflict, though you didn’t understand it.

You should leave. You knew it would be easier to walk away, to leave behind the chaos that seemed to follow him like a shadow. Far away from the Emperor, you could have peace, a life unmarred by this relentless storm. And yet, you will stay. You couldn’t turn your back on him. Not now, not ever.

You exhaled deeply, your breath trembling as you steadied yourself. You knew his instincts—he would try to mimic you, to find solace in your calmness. “Who is someone, Lucius?” you asked softly, your voice a whisper, barely audible over the sound of your fingers nervously fidgeting with the lavender flower you held.

His hands flew to his temples, pressing hard against them as though he could force clarity through will. “I can’t remember!” He shouted, his frustration bleeding through every word. “It’s all cloudy… But it’s true! I believe it’s true, and if I believe it, then it is true!”

“They are lying to you,” You said gently, a quiet plea against the chaos consuming him. “Not me. I’m your wife.”

His body shuddered as his breathing grew uneven. “I could have you hung!” He roared, his voice rising to a near scream. “Both of you! You and my brother, strung up outside the city for conspiring against me! My brother and my traitor wife hanged together for all of Rome to see…”

Your heart clenched at his words, but you held firm, taking a small step closer. “Would you like me hanged, then?” You inquiere, your tone unwavering despite the weight of the accusation.

“Don’t—don’t play games with me!” His voice cracked as his hands flew to his head again, fingers tangling in his ginger curls, tugging with a desperation that bordered on pain. “You’re messing with my mind!”

His breathing grew ragged as he paced, his voice rising in anguish. “Everything has to be shared! I have nothing that is truly mine—not even my own wife! Everyone loves Geta, they respect him… they trust him. And I’m so tired! Tired of giving, tired of sharing, tired of being left with nothing!”

“Why, then?” Your voice trembled but was steady enough to cut through his mind. “Why would you believe the words of a stranger over the words of your own wife?”

“Because you’re a liar!” He shouted, spinning toward you, his eyes glassy with unshed tears, his entire frame shaking as though he were holding himself together by sheer will. “I have given everything to you, and it’s never enough! It won’t be enough now that my brother has laid his filthy hands on you!” His voice broke, and his face twisted in a mix of rage and sorrow.

“You love him. Admit it—you love Geta!” He spat.

Your breath hitched, and used all your willpower not to flinch. “I don’t love Geta,” You said, with a quiet but firm tone. “I can barely stand him.”

“But you weren’t here!” His voice cracked with desperation.

You remained silent for a moment, knowing the truth was both a weapon and a fragile thing. “That’s true, I was with Lucilla…” You started softly, your voice trembling as you spoke the name. “She gave me this—”

“You alway lie!” His words cut through the air like daggers, and this time Dundus, perched nervously on his shoulder, became restless, chittering as his small claws scrambled across Caracalla’s back. The anxiety in the room was suffocating.

Without warning, Caracalla’s hands shot out, trembling violently as he grabbed one of the small vases sitting on the nearby table. His eyes, wild and frantic, never left yours as he impulsively hurled it toward you. But then, in a split second, he stopped himself. His breath caught, his hand frozen mid-throw as he saw that sudden flicker of fear in your eyes. That was when it hit him—the raw realization that the fear he thrived on, the fear he wanted and desired, was not something he ever wanted to see in you. Not in the person he loved the most.

With a strangled sound, he let go of the vase, watching it shatter violently against the marble floor, the pieces scattering besides the broken glass. The room fell silent for a moment, save for the soft, erratic sounds of his breath, and Dundus chittering.

Caracalla’s body trembled, not from anger, no, from something far more vulnerable. Something he couldn’t understand. His shoulders shook as soft sobs wracked his frame. His eyes were glossy, flickering with the first signs of tears, but he tried to hold them back, clenching his fists as if to stifle the emotion he feared would consume him.

“How—how can I fight against something I don’t remember?” His voice quivered, heavy with frustration, as his trembling hands pressed into his temples. His disheveled hair framed a face that was both tortured and childlike, caught in the haze of confusion. “I don’t—everything is cloudy,” He admitted, his words were fragile and raw.

Your heart ached at the sight of him unraveling. Slowly, you moved toward him, each step measured, as if approaching a wounded animal. You sank gracefully to your knees before him, the cold marble biting into your naked knees, avoiding the shards of glass. Your hands reached out hesitantly, settling gently atop his covered legs.

“I’m on your side, love,” You whispered, your voice soft as silk.

He stilled at your touch, his hands faltering in their frantic pressure against his temples. His wide, glassy eyes met yours, searching for something— whether it was truth, solace, or perhaps the faintest trace of reassurance you couldn’t decipher. He felt caught between the fragility of trust and the weight of doubt that lingered like a shadow over his mind.

In a second, Caracalla was subtly startled by Dundus’ quietly chewing, and before you could even catch your breath, your balance faltered. Your hand shot out instinctively, looking for anything to steady you, but the cold marble floor offered no comfort as your palm met it with a sharp glass, and a cry made home in your throat. You recoiled instantly, but not before you let the jagged shard of glass buried itself deep into your skin.

You gasped, a shudder running through your body as you stared at the blood that began to pool in your hand. The glass had left its mark, but it wasn’t the cut that stung the most. It would scar — in a similar fashion as the Emperor had made himself a place inside your heart, through blood and pain.

You drew in a shaky breath, steadying yourself as your fingers from the other hand, trembling with the sting of the wound, gently extracted the shard. The glass scraped against your skin, but you couldn’t bring yourself to flinch any further. Instead, you handled it with a tenderness that even surprised you. As if your body, despite the pain, knew the way to treat the wound, knew that softness was the only thing you could offer now. Not for him, not for anyone else — but for the wound itself. It mirrored the wounds marring your heart.

All that time Caracalla’s eyes were never off you. His gaze was turbulent and wild, following your every move. He was watching you with a hunger in his eyes — but his hunger seemed torn between fascination and frustration. His element was blood; he enjoyed conflict and violence and the mark it left on the knife when it met the flesh. He thrived in those who were in pain. He loved to see the wound open and bleeding. But not on you — never on you. So he wondered, as much as his cloudy mind let him, if what he was feeling was anguish, guilt or pleasure.

As you turned your gaze back to him, his entire demeanor seemed to shift. His disheveled hair, his paller face, the pink scars beneath his makeup make him seem so fragile. In a fleeting moment, he appeared even smaller, but more human. His hands were shaking when he reached for yours, but the touch wasn’t gentle. It was desperate, uncertain, as if he couldn’t quite decide what to do with you

And still, you held his gaze, despite the blood staining your hand, despite the way his trembling fingers gripped yours—not with tenderness, but with need, a need that seemed to tear him apart even as it pulled him closer to you.

And without hesitation, as impulsive as he is — he kissed your bloodied hand.

The kiss was rough, hurried, as if he feared everything would slip away before he had the chance to claim it. His lips brushed over the wound with a strange tenderness that conflicted with the violence of the moment and his grip on your wrist. He didn’t pull back when he felt the blood smear across his pale skin. Instead, his eyes closed for just a heartbeat, as if he was drowning in your blood, in the sight of it. The red streaked across his lips, staining him as much as it stained you. It was the mark of your suffering, the scar of your devotion. And yet, you decided there was no cruelty in his touch now.

When he finally pulled away, he lowered your hand with an unsteady movement. Then, in a way that felt almost fragile, as if the very act of smiling could destroy him, he fought to offer you the semblance of a smile. His lips, stained with blood, parted in a tremulous grin—teeth bared while the gold in his mouth shone, chin red. The whole act as if to say this is me. This is us.

And you couldn’t look away.

a/n: this might be a prequel to a period sex fic ive been wanting to make….

[ihavemanyhusbands]

okayy. so this is my request idea 😍

can i req for him pls, he still mourning his wife however you (acacius' daughter) willing to give him your love, sadly he did not want it or keep you away from him. until you realized that he still in love with his wife so you gave distance. at the end, he wanted you and saved you after your father's death

Thank you for requesting <33

(Note: reader is not Lucilla’s daughter, just Acacius’ from a previous marriage)

——————

It had been a while since you’d last seen him.

You remembered your last encounter painfully well, when he'd turned his face away, unable to bear seeing the earnestness in your eyes. You had poured your heart out to him, but he hadn't been able to accept it. He'd drawn that line firmly in the sand, having to accept the consequences that came with it.

He hadn’t meant to hurt you, not really, but his heart was still splintered in a thousand bleeding shards. He was constantly reminded of the one he had loved for years before his return to Rome; The one he had bitterly lost at your father's command back in Numidia.

He never said her name at first — Arishat — until the day you confronted him after the naval battle at the colosseum. He had vowed his revenge against your father for her death, and he could not see past his hatred and mourning to see you. One of the only people who had offered him your genuine friendship, who'd heard countless stories about him from his mother, weaving an image of the strong, good-hearted man that you would one day fall in love with.

That day, the image had been shattered and your heart didn't fare any better. And so, for both of your sakes, you decided to keep your distance.

But then, after your father was arrested and forced to fight Lucius in the arena as a gladiator, things took a drastic turn. At the last moment, when your father had surrendered to him, Lucius decided to spare him, even going so far as to defend his honor.

Still, the Praetorian guard riddled him with arrows, and loss like you had never known had you crying to the skies, cursing the will of the Gods.

After the funeral, you were secluded at home for a nine-day mourning period in which no one else could reach you. Even after that, you refused to see anyone for another two weeks, letting both your heart and the scratches on your face from lamentations heal a little more.

When you felt just strong enough, you decided to throw a small dinner party to honor his life. And once the sun had set, it was none other than Lucius who showed up last, his expression somber. His body language was hesitant, like he wasn't entirely sure he would be welcome.

But when you made eye contact with him from across the room, he felt a little more encouraged to approach you. He offered his condolences and silently stood next to you as you stared at the flickering flames dancing in one of the braziers.

"Your father was a good man," he said. "I've come to realize that a little too late."

"He did what he had to do for the glory of Rome," you said, accepting his words but not denying that he had committed acts of brutality in his time as a commander.

"I have made many mistakes when it comes to you, as well. Please, forgive me."

You looked up at him and realized that despite how hard you had tried not to, you still ached for him. Swallowing thickly, you looked away before any tears could form in your eyes.

"It's all in the past now, Lucius," you murmured. "I bear you no ill will, especially after you showed mercy to my father."

There was a long silence in which the two of you were lost in thought. The two of you had your own burdens to bear, but perhaps they wouldn't be so heavy if the weight was shared. He had realized he did not want to be separated from you, even if it would take some time for the two of you to fully open up again.

He was a patient man and was more than willing to work for it -- to see it through. In time, perhaps two broken hearts would meld each other, stronger than before.

"I should like to be the one to take care of you now," he said, looking at your profile. "If you'll let me."

You stiffened, feeling something akin to hope surge within you. A lump formed in your throat and you let a tear run down your cheek. Unable to find the right words to respond to him, though, you settled for taking his hand.

And it was then he knew that things would be alright.

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

[lucidbee]

Love Is A Science | Percy Jackson x Reader

Summary: You and Percy have always been best friends you just needed a little push for you to become more.

Word Count: 1.1k

Author Note: Did I write this in the car to eat dry turkey and complain to my family about what tariffs mean, yes. Did I get car sick from writing this also, yes. Not proofread. Happy Thanksgiving, everyone! Feel free to leave any requests. 

—---—---—‐--—---—---—---—---—---

You and Percy had been friends ever since he came to Camp Half-Blood. You both were always next to each other; if you weren’t, you were talking about them somehow. Every camper could see that both of you were meant to be together. The teasing and questioning were endless. The Aphrodite cabin had a blast creating different scenarios and challenging each other on who could get you two together first. For years the both of you had been denying any claims that you were anything more than friends. Both of you believing that you were just really good friends, companions in battle. 

But after the battle in Manhattan, things started to change, both of you becoming more aware of each other's presence, not wanting to be more than an arm's reach away from each other at all times. Something deeper had started to grow after all these years, something unspoken.

That's where you find yourself, both silently staring into the fire crackling on the beach. You’re wrapped in Percy’s arms, your back pressed against his chest. Before the battle, if anyone had asked, it would have been simply cuddling nothing more, than just a way for two friends to stay warm. However, now if you were asked the same question, you weren’t sure what you would say. It was different now, you didn’t just want to be around Percy anymore, you needed to be around him. You needed to know that he was safe, that you weren’t going to lose him. The possibility of losing Percy opened up feelings you had no idea you had for the son of Posideon. 

You wanted to kiss him, to be held by him, for him to fight every battle with coming home to you as his only goal. You were hopelessly and undoubtedly in love with Percy Jackson. The only trouble was that you had no idea how to bring the topic up to him. You had spent years denying the claims that you were lovers, was it possible for him to have the same change of heart as you? 

The fire crackled loudly filling any awkward silence. You knew you only had so much time to confess your feelings before curfew, if you didn’t do it today you knew you would talk yourself out of it every day to come. 

“Percy?” You call out not taking your eyes off of the flames.

Percy, who is usually quick with his words, had been unusually quiet this whole time. Usually, he would be humming a song, or bouncing his knee to create any sort of noise. Today he looked completely lost in his thoughts. 

“Percy?”

“A daughter of Aphrodite asked me out today,” Percy said looking down to look at you.

Shocked was the only way you could describe what you felt right now. Your heart started to race and your head started to spin, were you too late?

“W-what did you say?” 

Percy sighed before saying “I told her I would think about it.”

More dread filled your body. “Do you like her?”

“Well no, but there is no harm in just one date right?”

Your head was still spinning but your heartbeat started to slow back down, you still had time. 

“Do you like anyone?” You asked.

“There is this one girl, but I don't think she is interested.”

Your heart broke at that moment, you had waited too long. You could have had him years ago but now that you are about to lose him you have never wanted him more. Pain fills your body, and you find it more difficult to breathe. 

“She would be dumb not to be interested in you, Percy.” You say tears filling your eyes.

“Y/n are you okay, did I do something?”

“No, it's what I did,” You say tears strolling down your face.

“What did you do?”

“I didn’t tell you how much I love you and now it’s too late.” 

You stand up wiping your tears, needing to separate yourself from Percy. Percy soon follows but keeps his distance.

“Y/n?”

“I should have told you so much sooner, but we both needed time to heal after the battle and I was worried you wouldn’t feel the same way,” You ramble off walking back and forth.

“Y/N,” Percy yells.

Your head swings to look at him, tears still streaming down your face. Percy steps closer taking your hands in his. Both of you keep eye contact the whole time as he allows you time to calm down.

“I love you too”

“You what?”

“The girl I was talking about was you, I love you.” 

“This isn’t funny seafoam, you can’t joke about this, I’m barely holding myself together right now.”

“I’m not joking, in Manhattan, all I could keep thinking about was that I was terrified I was going to die before being able to kiss you.”

For what felt like an eternity you were finally able to breathe. The pain washed away into a feeling of overwhelming joy.

“Kiss me,” You say.

“What?”

“Kiss me, do you not want to anymore?”

“NO,” Percy yells.

Percy quickly takes you into his arms and presses his lips against yours. Your eyes quickly shut, wrapping your arms around Percy’s neck. It was everything you imagined and more, you could have stayed in the position for hours. That was until the sound of a horn being blown in the distance alerting you both that curfew was in a few minutes. 

“I don’t want to let you go,” Percy said nuzzling himself into your neck.

“Then don’t.

Percy looks at you in a confused way, when you finally explain it to him. 

“You’re all alone in your cabin, sneak me in.”

“You are brilliant,” Percy says giving you a light peck.

Percy quickly put out the fire that was still burning beside you, before taking your hand and rushing off of the beach and into cabin number three. You both leave grinning and completely absorbed in each other. Completely not noticing the daughter of Aphrodite and Athena hiding behind the bushes.

“Told you all they needed was a little push to figure out what they were missing out on,” Annabeth said.

“You are a genius and about to be the richest person in camp, we’ve been betting on them for the last four years,” Drew says walking back towards the Aphrodite cabin.

“What can I say love is a science, after all, let me know if you need any lessons.”

“Don’t push it, brainiac.”

[cupidsblonde]

so do i look like him?

after katsuki’s death, the only thing your parents can see in you is him

when you used to imagine giving a speech about your younger brother, you have imagined it everywhere but here.

maybe a wedding

at an award show  

anywhere but here.

“i remember when katsuki first got his quirk, we all knew he was destined for greatness… but he was ripped away from us to soon.” you say lip quivering.

“he will never be able to live out his dream. or live out the life that had so many great things ahead of him. ripped from the arms of his loved ones, from his greatness, from his determination.” voice breaking, tears falling down your face.

“tomura shigaraki, i promise that if i ever find you, you will be ripped from the hearts of the people motivated by you, just as you did my brother” you say staring straight into the broadcasting camera, which was showing your brothers funeral all across the world.

since he was a nation wide hero. but he never got to be the hero he wanted to be, rich, famous, doing what he loved. 

for he was famous. this just wasn’t how anyone imaged it.

 was this all he was going to be to the world? a dead kid, who had a dream of being a hero and died on his way there in a war he had no place fighting in? 

is that kid the only thing your parents will ever be able to see in you?

being the eldest was great, until katsuki was gone. 

incident one

 you where all sitting around the dinning table. katsuki’s spot next to your empty. nothing but his lingering smell of caramel, which was fading, and quickly. it was quite. you just wanted to eat, and go to sleep. 

you pick up your fork and go to put the food into your mouth, clamping your mouth around the fork and unbeknownst to you, the scratching food. 

you groan, grimace and catch your parents eyes. they’re both staring at you. like you did something wrong. you can see the tears welling in their eyes. your mom slams her fork down and gets up from the table 

“excuse me” she says in a hushed tone. you didn’t know what happened. you looked to your dad for an answer. 

“you just looked a lot like him right then” you dad almost whispers to you.

incident two

you missed katsuki a lot.

his grunts

his anger

his determination 

his want 

his excellency.

you and everyone in your house avoided his room like the plague. scared that if it was changed even a little bit, something would happen. 

but you just couldn’t take not even smelling his scent around the house anymore. you went into his room one day. 

16 years of coming into his room, annoying him, crying to him, watching movies with him. had come to end. you sat on the floor, sat in his bed, sat at his desk and you made your way to his closet. that’s where it smelt the most of him. aside from his bed, but even that was fading.

all you wanted to do was cry. there was no way he was coming back, you know that. right? 

you continue to go into his spaces. just hoping your going to find your younger brother there. watch him study maybe, even hope you would be able to hear him yell at you to “get the f out of my room”. 

but you would never get to have that’s again. 

this time it was your dad. 

you had said something that you picked up from katsuki and your dad froze where he stood. 

you could tell he had been cracking his shell he made when katsuki died. push everything down to hold the family together. so he needed to get away. he stopped what he was doing and went to he and your mothers room. 

“you just looked a lot like him, with that look on your face, saying that.” your mother quivered out to you. sobbing and choking at the end of her sentence.

incident three

you had been falling back into a place that katsuki an you both worked so hard to get you out of mentally. 

you where drinking again

back on drugs

it started slow. just how it always did. 

you had been clean for nearly 2 years. you obviously didn’t need your younger brother to keep you a normal ass person, who wasn’t drinking all the time, sleeping all the time, back on drugs.

bakugo katsuki, your younger brother, your best friend. was one of the only things that kept you on the earth. 

but now, it was your parents. not because you where happy all the time with them as you where with katsuki. 

but having to bury both of their children? you couldn’t do that to them. 

so you began getting sober again. the drugs stopped and the drinking stopped, you had been reminded that katsuki helped you out of that dark, dark place and if he saw you just fall right back into it as soon as he’s gone, he would be disappointed.

it was hard, because it wand ike he was gone on a trip. he was gone, for good.

this time, it was both of them. both of your parents. 

you grabbed any random hoodie one day, not even realizing it was your brothers. you came down the stairs and your parents where right in the view of the stairs, and stopped when you came down. 

you then realized. 

you wouldnt ever be your own person now. atleast not to your parents. 

you understood, their child was gone. and you reminded them of him. and that’s … hard.

not only for them but also for yourself.

this is the first time you started to catch on 

“do i look like him?” 

both of your parents nodded quickly, tears filling their eyes and they both walked away very quickly. 

of course you went to go change.

but that’s when you realized, 

his scent wasn’t on the hoodie anymore 

the more that you thought about it. his scent wasn’t anywhere around the house anymore, aside for his room, which was fading. 

incident four

you where going through an old photo album, you all missed katsuki in with all of your hearts. 

there where a bunch of pictures of katsuki but it started getting easier to look at them. easier to, accept.

but there was this one problem, this one picture. that had your mother sobbing, your dad with tears streaming down your face and you, your face plastered with an a thousand yard stare. your mouth fell open, you wanted to say something. 

anything, but you couldn’t. it felt like your vocal cords had been ripped out, your throat was burning. your eyes where being filled with tears. you closed the picture book slowly. 

you don’t remember much after that.

 all you feel right now is the pain in the balls of your feet from the heels your wearing, continusally having to pull your to short and to tight dress down and the feeling of your back side grinding up against a man that you meet at the bar merely a half hour ago.

“wanna get out of here ma?” the man who you didn’t even know who’s name.

next morning

you woke up next to this man, who you still didn’t know the name of. 

these type of nights continued on for weeks. 

you didn’t see your parents much, you where staying with your friends more and more and they are worried about you. they are always supportive, they understand what your going through. but they are worried.

and they had every reason to. especially tonight. 

when you didn’t come home, after you sobbed in mina’s arms are the first time. saying you wished it was you who was gone and not your brother. she was first your brothers friend, but she ended up being yours as well. 

you missed him, so so much. and you didn’t know how to handle it.

you had taken care of him for his whole life. being the eldest was hard. it was always hard. it was so much harder when the one thing keeping you going was now gone. 

you could see it in your parents eyes. the only thing in their eyes was sadness. so the only you could ask yourself now was 

“do i look like him?”

[angelbaby-fics]

Thanksgiving (Pt. 1)

Pairing: Stucky X Reader (mostly Steve in this part!)

Word Count: 500

A/N: Surprise! I am so so thankful for all of you guys for sticking around the past nearly 3 years! And if you're new around here, I'm thankful for you too!! So I just wanted to show my thanks with a little 2 parter, and also maybe if you had a rough day this could provide some comfort as well 💕

“No no NO! Not goin’!” You cried, running to your room and slamming the door behind you. The sleeves of your festive sweater were damp with tears as you threw yourself to the floor, burying your face in your arms. You don’t know how long you stayed there, or how long you were crying; all you knew was that you weren’t going to get up, no matter how much your daddies bribed you. There was nothing on this earth that could convince you to go to the Thanksgiving party. 

When a soft knock came upon your bedroom door, you ignored it. Maybe they’d forget you were there and go to the party without you, getting you off the hook for the evening. Fat chance, you were the apple of both your daddies’ eyes and at the front of their minds every minute of the day. 

“I’m gonna come in, okay?” You heard Steve say, but you still didn’t answer. “Baby? I wanna hear you say okay.” 

As much as you wanted to stay stubborn, you appreciated the way your caregivers respected your boundaries, not wanting to enter your space without your consent. You gave a weak moan in response, and Steve opened the door just enough to shimmy inside before closing it behind him. You thought you’d lost the fight, any second now you’d feel his arms around your middle, lifting you into his inescapable grasp, but instead as you listened for his footsteps approaching you, you heard them stop by your side. Suddenly, Steve was on the ground with you, stomach to the floor, head cradled in his arms, facing you with a commiserating smile. 

“Can I tell you a secret angel?” He asked when he noticed you looking at him. “I don’t wanna go either.”

“You don’t?” You asked. “Nope!” “But you love Uncle Tony’s parties!” Usually Bucky was the one in your corner when you wanted out of a social occasion, while Steve was more the type to show up early to help set up. “I do. But you know what I love more? You and Bucky. I wish we could just have Thanksgiving dinner at home, just us family.” “Me too.”

“But I promised Tony we’d come say hi. You remember how much it hurts your feelings when someone breaks a promise, right?”

You thought to yourself, about times when Peter swore you’d get the next turn on the swings or when Loki promised to let you win at tag. “Yeah… feels sad.” You nodded.

“Especially on a holiday too, huh? Tony and Pepper did a lot to prepare for tonight, it wouldn’t be very nice of us if we didn’t at least say hello.”

“Yeah,” you thought, “I wanna say hello.”

Steve got up from the ground, dusting off his pants before reaching down to pick you up. He propped you up in one arm, wiping your tears with his free hand. He smoothed your hair, looking into your eyes with a smile. 

“Alright babydoll, let's do this.”