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riddlesrose · 4 days ago

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kissin him stupid

w/ the housewardens

in which you were recently gifted a tube of lipstick from grim, you're unsure of where he got it or why he decided it's yours now but it's given you a fantastic idea.

(he probably stole it from vil somehow and wants to place the blame on you..)

note; malleus' is the shortest but the most full of love i swear to goooood but the post itself is quite long

if riddle could form a proper sentence right now, he might scold you for slacking off, or breaking rule six hundred and seventeen, or he may just ask you to do it again. if colours could speak, his face would scream in comparison to the red accents in the housewarden’s room, uniform and matching hair.

you attempt to keep a sober expression but he seriously cannot be so flustered by a single kiss? the red lip stain on his cheek is bright against the flush of his cheeks, as he sputters vowels and consonants, attempting to speak, to protest, to ask you what in the queen’s name are you doing.

you invited riddle over to the ramshackle dorm under the guise of needing help with studying, but you had this motive the entire time. riddle could feel your rebel to his help and directions if he ignored the obvious fact you hadn’t even cracked the spine of your book yet (to be fair it was only assigned today, and it was a new book), and the devious smile you attempted to hide until now.

riddle took a breath, finally feeling sensible enough, “what… was that.”

“affection, riddle. this isn’t new.” you shot, tone dripping in sarcasm.

“yes, my rose, i know that. i mean,” he grabs hold of your uniform tie, drawing you closer, “what’s with the lipstick?” your head probably could have exploded, where did this riddle come from and how can he be drawn out more often?

you press a swift kiss to riddle’s other cheek, thanks to the proximity. “i have no explanation,” you press another kiss onto his forehead, “i simply was gifted it,” a kiss to his temple, “this morning.” the grip riddle has on your tie loosens completely as it falls back onto your chest, slightly wrinkled from the force.

“i just had this ironed!” you frown.

“i-i’ll get it done again.” riddle stands, brushing invisible dust off his jacket, though nothing could distract from the shade of pink that covers his face.

“you’ll iron my tie for me? how kind.” you wrap an arm around riddle’s waist, pulling him close. he drops his forehead against your chest with a thud, inaudibly mumbling to himself.

you wrap your other arm around him as he takes your face between his hands, slightly squishing into your cheeks he drags your face to his height, kissing you feverishly.

“where did this riddle come from? i like him.”

“i just felt… bold i suppose.” riddle’s red tinted lips smile against yours.

“do it again!”

leona stirs underneath you. you’re sat, straddling either side of his hips, weight pressed on his defined torso. leona doesn’t know it but you’ve practically trapped him where he sleeps. where he’s asleep currently, that is. in your dorm.

on your couch.

using your pillows, taking in the setting sun like a true feline, though you would never dare utter the word feline anywhere near him lest you face the wrath of a moody boyfriend.

you silently laugh to yourself, leaning down and pressing your lips on the prince’s temple.

leona stirs again at that, attempting to roll over – he cracks an eye when you gasp. slowly, coming to his senses, he furrows his brows at your positioning. you weren’t there when he fell asleep, when did you do that, and why are you sitting on him with half of a sinister smile across your lips…

and when did your lips turn red? he brings a hand up to rub his face, trying to shake the sleep out of his fogged mind, but you catch his hand before it makes contant.

“don’t, it’ll mess up all my hard work,” you say with a half hint of embarrassment. (just a hint; only because you were caught before you could slip away undiscovered.)

leona’s confusion increases, as he detaches your hand from his wrist. he takes his freed hand up to your lips and swipes his thumb across your bottom lip, smudging it further across the line of your lip.

he inspects his red finger, “is this… lipstick?” you purse your lips in an attempt to stifle the laugh that bubbles in your chest. he looks ridiculous; eyes half lidded, nose crunched in focus and red marks painting his face.

your tinted lips curl upwards slightly into a smug grin, “maybe?” if leona knows one thing, it’s smug grins. he matches yours and wipes his thumb on your cheek, smearing the lipstick off his thumb and onto your skin.

you playfully swat his hand away and lean down to continue painting your masterpiece, placing another kiss on his skin – onto the spot between his eyebrows. leona’s hand find your hip, giving a teasing pinch to the side.

leona may be a prince used to some pampering, but this is some treatment he could get used to.

azul has a finger in every pie, as riddle likes to say. you’re very much aware of that as your boyfriend likes to talk your ear off about his investments, new opportunities and the lounge. you’re so very proud of all of his hard work but sometimes he gets off on a tangent that doesn’t stop until you make him. usually with a kiss. it flusters him just enough that he forgets what he was going on about and it works every time.

this time, however, was a bit different. azul didn’t take notice of the hue change of your lips as you leaned in and shut him up. drawing back, you snicker at his pursed lips and flushed cheeks, and the red lipstick smeared around his lips.

azul peeked in your direction, curious. you usually find it funny when he’s flustered like this but you were laughing a little too much. he noticed the messy red lipstick and furrowed his brows, wiping a finger across his lips.

you suppressed a smile as you watched him curiously examine his stained finger, “it’s lipstick.” he concludes.

“well… obviously? i thought that would have been pretty clear,” you grab his hand, wiping the red off of his finger.

before azul can retort you lean in to kiss him again; anywhere you can get your lips on before he shells himself away, utterly embarrassed. a kiss to his cheek, jaw, forehead, nose, other cheek, forehead again, has him sputtering, almost begging to be released.

azul places his free hand on your shoulder, trying to push you away while laughing between breaths. when you do back up, leaning back on your hand, he almost looks sad. (as if he wasn’t actively trying to get you off!)

“so, mister ashengrotto? feeling loved and appreciated yet?” you give him a toothy grin, watching as his face contorts from flustered to even-more-flustered. (if that’s possible.)

“well yes! i dare say i’m feeling very valued and cherished as well.” despite his rosy features, his voice is unwavering, full of conviction.

his confident, put-together outer layer completely melts away when you’re alone with him, but this has him absolutely on fire, a feeling no number could replace. numbers can’t give affection, you give it tenfold in their stead.

kalim’s permanent grin widens when you claim you’ve got a gift for him. he expectantly holds out his hands, making you shake your head.

“it’s more of an eyes closed kind of gift,” you start, kalim instantly squeezes his eyes shut. he puts so much trust in you that you worry jamil has eyes everywhere. everywhere. but you brush the jesting idea away, believing that you wouldn’t even be allowed on scarabia grounds if jamil didn’t trust you with the housewarden.

you turn to a nearby mirror, passing the tube of red lipstick over your lips. the smooth makeup applies nice and neatly. (doesn’t matter because you know it won’t be neat for long.)

you step back over to where kalim’s sitting on the edge of his bed, standing between his knees. he’s waiting not-so patiently, he looks like he’s almost vibrating, is he really that excited? you suppress a smile as you gently grab onto his jaw, tilting his head to the side as you press your lips to his cheek. his laughter immediately fills the room, making you press more kisses over his face. one to his forehead, one on the nose, another on the other cheek, his temples, and anywhere you can get before he’s laughing too much, pushing you away.

“it tickles,” he heaves a breath, “stop!” a wider smile grows on his face after seeing yours, the red lipstick you applied had smudged around your lips, looking not-so neat. his face isn’t much better, tan skin littered in red kisses.

while you’re mentally retaining the image of kalim covered in red lip marks, you notice him looking more intently at you. you raise a brow, curiously.

“my turn, give it here!” he reaches a hand out, expecting the tube of lipstick?

you look at him bewildered, “what?”

“my turn!” he repeats. he seems real set on returning the ‘gift’ it seems. kalim’s all smiles as you hand him the black tube. he exposes the stick and passes it over his own lips, tossing it aside and pulling you down to his seated height. he flattens his lips across the expanse of your face, getting at any skin he can just like you did to him.

when he deems he’s finished, you’re dazed and equally covered in red lipstick stains, smiles wide across your faces. matching stained faces for matching blitheringly infatuated idiots.

vil leans on the back of his vanity chair; his face littered in different coloured lip marks. the reason? he claims he wants to see which ones compliment him the most.

you know he already knows exactly which shades of each brand line do exactly that. (thanks, rook.) vil doesn’t know that you know he’s already figured this out.

you wipe the makeup remover-soaked cotton pad across your lips, ridding it of the pink. “what would all of your fans think if they knew you were being covered completely in rainbow kisses?” you wipe the moisture from your lips as vil reaches around you to grab another tube, but you stop him.

“i’m sure they would lose their minds,” you reach into your pocket, revealing a miscellaneous tube of lipstick, it matches none of the previously discarded lipsticks, nor does it have a brand logo on it. “where did you find this?” vil takes the lipstick in his hand, nimbly examining the exterior. he removes the top to reveal a rich, velvety red colour. his eyes widen just slightly.

“it’s a secret,” you wink and take the lipstick from him and apply it, smiling as you replace its cap and let it fall from your hand, onto a messy vanity behind you.

vil wraps an arm around your neck, drawing you closer to his seated level, “well, share your secret with me, if you would be so kind.” you swiftly close the gap between yourself and the housewarden, administering a healthy dose of red onto his lips and the surrounding skin.

he parts first, his cheeks dawn a hint of pink that’s hidden behind the various stains on his otherwise perfect skin. he truly is the most beautiful person ever. makeup or not, hair tied back or loose, vil is sincerely as pretty as the morning's first light, a flower; freshly bloomed, and a fresh set of nails.

“you’re staring. not that i mind,” you snap out of your hazy daydream about your gorgeous boyfriend and back into reality.

“yeah, sorry. you’re just really fucking pretty.” you lean down and tenderly kiss his forehead as he internally squeals like one of his fan-girls. he really hit the jackpot with you as his (second) biggest fan.

idia looks up at you with wide yellow eyes, but they have a sort of gloss over them that makes you believe he would not want you to get up and leave his dorm right now. you grin at his feeble attempt of a silent, inconclusive plea. an ask to what, you’re unsure because his face (minus the eyes) and hands grabbing at you tell you he’s very much enjoying you straddling his hips right now.

you reach into your pocket, revealing your master plan. a tube of lipstick, you swipe it over your lips once, then twice before replacing the cap and tossing it down, letting it hit the plush bedsheet you’re atop.

the translucent tips of his hair start to turn pink as you lean down towards his face. a trembling hand comes up to your shoulder, not pushing you away but seemingly grounding the housewarden underneath you. “how cute,” you smile against his lips, pressing a chaste kiss to the corner of his mouth, then another to his left cheek, then the right. one more on his forehead for good measure. maybe one more. okay, one last one couldn’t hurt.

you sit upright and drag a hand down idia’s chest, over the sweater you know is probably two sizes to large for him, (but that’s how he likes them you suppose and it just makes for a more comfortable sweater when you steal ‘em) while admiring the definitely not smudge-proof lipstick marks on idia’s face, giggling as you compare the red smears to his blue features. you wonder if-

the rapid rise and fall of idia’s chest catches your attention, it almost sounds like he’s hyperventilating, but when you look up to his face it’s surrounded by fiery pink hair and a flush across his cheeks, spanning down his neck, you realize he’s fine. probably a little more than fine.

“well, that’s some false advertising,” you smile, wiping at the edges of your lips lightly with a finger. idia snaps out of his stupor, hastily agreeing with a stuttered breath. his hands find your hips, giving you a small squeeze. you lean down and press a proper kiss to his lips, you lift away just as quick as you bent down, pushing idia back down as he chases you up, hoping for more. a pitiful whine escapes him as his hair burns brighter.

the red lipstick mixes with his natural blue lips gives him a sort of purple that would put the octavinelle’s house colour to shame. though, he almost looks forlorn. the usual solemn and gloomy housewarden; reduced to a blushing mess after a few kisses.

hilarious, isn’t it?

malleus’s eyes flutter shut, a pleased sigh escapes his lips. his hands, hidden by your sweater, trace messy patterns on your back as his nails scratch lightly. he’s unsure of how he got himself into this humanoid predicament but he’s not complaining.

you’re sat in his lap, placing kisses all over his face, leaving red lip marks behind.

“you look like you’re enjoying this more than i am, malleus.” you bring a hand up to rake it through his bangs, pushing them behind his horns and revealing the shiny scales hidden beneath.

the housewarden cracks a sharp emerald eye, examining your features. the slope of your nose, the curve of your stained lips, your eyelashes, cheeks. your eyes. oh how he loves your eyes, the way they look up to him with adoration, not fear or indifference like other humans do.

you cup his cheek, “malleus?”

he blinks once, twice. the gloss over his eyes breaks, refocusing on you. “i apologize, i was lost in thought.”

“i could tell,” you trace your finger to the tip of his ear, then drop your hand back into your lap. “what were you thinking of? me?”

“yes.”

“woah, okay. blunt!” heat rises to your face.

a hand leaves your back, trailing around your side and up to tuck a piece of hair away from your eyes. ��was i not suppose to tell the truth?”

“no, malleus, you should have said you were thinking of pancakes.”

“but i wasn’t? i was thinking of-” you cut him off, placing a kiss on his lips.

“now, let me resume my art.”

malleus is more than happy to sit as still as the gargoyle statues he studies while you press kisses all over his face. he is, truly is.

this was so self indulgent i ain’t even sorry (is my favouritism showing??)

masterlist

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gyaruhana · 1 month ago

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Hi 🫣

A request for Choi Su-Bong and Cho Sang-Woo <3

They're both in the same game. (Sangwoo didn't die in s1 and came back to earn more for his debts) They both have eyes for reader, once they realise this, they both pair up and do whatever they can to get reader on their side. Flirting, helping them in the games etc...Eventually reader is won over by them.

You can make it smutty, if you like. I don't really know how to request smut, so I hope that this is enough for you to work with! Tysm 💞💞

Choi Su-Bong/Thanos + Cho Sangwoo - Three is, in fact, NOT a crowd

Synopsis: Cho Sangwoo and Thanos had nothing in common. Well, they didn't until you came around and stole their hearts.

A/N: I may have made this too smutty but i saw the chance for double penetration and knew nobody else would ever be writing dp with Thanos and Sangwoo so-

Warnings: smutty content, fingering, anal fingering, eating out, double penetration, use of whore,

Sangwoo and Thanos did not have anything in common. Sangwoo was a quiet, reserved man who has suffered plenty of loss while Thanos was loud and… very, very high. No one would ever expect them to be spending time together since they were oh so different. Not to mention the only interaction they had was a stare down when Thanos casually pushed somebody during Red Light, Green Light resulting in the death of three people.

However, when you came into the picture you caught both of their attentions immediately. They were drawn to you like moths to a flame.

It started off small.

Thanos would be close to you most of the time while Sangwoo would keep a watchful eye on you and protect you from a distance. Occasionally, when Thanos wasn’t around to keep you company, Sangwoo would swoop in instead and talk with you. It only became apparent to both of them that they shared the same romantic feelings for you when they both handed you their food at the same time while also telling you; “Take my food, you need it more than me,” in sync.

From there, it started. An agreement was made between the two to protect you at all costs while also trying to steal your heart that they could keep for the two of them. At least one of them was near you all the time since then and they refused to keep you out of their sight.

As of now, the third game had finished and you were walking back into the main room. Thanos and Sangwoo were close behind you, maybe even a little too close.

“Are you okay? No injuries?” Sangwoo asks as he leans down slightly to talk in your ear. “Of course she’s fine. After all, the great Thanos was here to protect our girl,” Thanos spoke as he threw an arm around your shoulder and pulled you close to his side. Sangwoo shook his head at Thanos’s words before matching his pace with yours so he could be close to you too.

“I’m fine, don’t worry,” you speak with a smile as you look over at Sangwoo. “Good,” he says with a nod. He probably would’ve gone crazy if you had gotten hurt somehow. Both of them would honestly. You were too important - too precious to get hurt.

You all took a seat somewhere in the back corner of the place, away from the rest of the players so you could relax for a while and wind down from the last game which was actually rather stressful. Per usual, Sangwoo and Thanos were all over you. They were ridiculously close to you, making flirty comments, touching you in places that they know made you nervous. It was all planned.

This went on long after the food was given and enjoyed. It’s like they physically could not have their hands off of you or they would lose it. Not that you were complaining. You didn't mind having two guys who you were definitely crushing on touching you.

You put your food down next to you before standing up making both of them look up at you immediately as their hands that had previously been on you fell to their side. It was clear neither of them were very happy that they weren't touching you now.

“I'm just going to the bathroom before lights out, I'll be back,” you speak before walking off. Not once did their eyes leave you as you walked away until you were out of sight.

“I think we should do it tonight,” Thanos suddenly speaks up as he looks over at Sangwoo with a confident smirk. Sangwoo turns his head to look at him with an eyebrow slightly raised. “Do what?” He asks although he already had an idea of what Thanos meant.

“You know what I mean, man. We can finally strike. C'mon, she's clearly into us,” Thanos spoke with a grin as he scooched closer to Sangwoo. He was confident that you had feelings for them now after all they had done for you.

“You sure? Wouldn't want you to scare her off,” Sangwoo replied as he looked away towards the door you last disappeared through. Of course, he was eager to finally make you his but he didn't make it obvious. At least, he thought he didn't.

“Me? Scare her off? You're the one with the dark and brooding aura. What are you? Batman?” Thanos joked as he kept his eyes on Sangwoo. All he got in response to that was a sharp glare before Sangwoo looked away. There was a brief silence as if he was thinking before he sighed and shook his head.

“Fine, we'll have her tonight. After lights out,” Sangwoo spoke as he looked at the timer on the wall. Thanos turned his head to also look and let out a frustrated groan upon seeing the time.

“There's still 20 minutes left, man. I can't wait that long,” he says with annoyance. He had been patient for the past few days and he couldn't wait any longer to have you in his arms. Sangwoo looked at Thanos with an unimpressed look, clearly not amused by Thanos's impatience.

“Good things come to those who wait,” he says with a barely noticeable smirk. Thanos let's out another sigh before running a hand through his hair. Fine, he could wait. Just a little bit longer. Then, he'd finally have you.

As the sound of a door opening reached their ears, they unanimously turned their heads toward it so they could see you again. You noticed them staring and waved at them as you started to walk in their direction. Thanos gave a rather excited wave back and gestured for you to come over.

When you sat down between them again, you could feel something was different. Was it the way they kept subtly glancing at each other? The way their hands instantly made its home on your body? Who knows. But there was certainly something different.

“Hey, y'know I've been thinking about something,” Thanos suddenly spoke as he put his arm around your shoulder and looked over at you. “I feel like we haven't spent enough.. time together. You feel me?” He continues as he keeps his eyes on you. You didn't quite understand what he meant by that because you had spent the last few days together constantly.

“Mm, I think you're right,” Sangwoo suddenly speaks up and you turn your head to look at him. Okay, they were up to something- you could tell that much. The question was; what were they up to? Before you can ask, Sangwoo's hand finds its place on your thigh.

“Maybe we should spend more time together. Do you agree, Thanos?” Sangwoo spoke again as he looked at Thanos. The grin on his face paired with the eager nod when Sangwoo spoke had your heart running in circles. You weren't entirely sure if they meant literal quality time or ‘quality time’ in the sexual sense but the idea of them wanting to fuck you was enough to make you nervous.

“C'mon, baby. Don't be shy,” Thanos speaks as he stands up and goes right in front of you. Sangwoo's hands move to your shoulders as he shifts behind you. Your face flushed at the premise of what they were suggesting. If it wasn't obvious before, it was now.

“Yeah, don't be shy,” Sangwoo whispered into your ear. Right on cue, the lights go off and the three of you are consumed in darkness. Usually, the darkness scared you because of the fear something else was lingering. This time, you were much less afraid because you knew what was in the darkness. Them.

“We'll make you feel good. You can trust us,” you hear Thanos's voice ring out as he crouches down in front of you. His hand slowly places itself just below your neck before trailing down to the hem of your shirt. Meanwhile, Sangwoo didn't waste any time and immediately started leaving kisses on your neck.

You can feel your shirt slowly lift up before being pulled off of you. “Fuck, you're even prettier underneath,” Thanos says quietly before he leans forward and starts to leave kisses along your chest. The contrast of Sangwoo's soft sucking on you neck with Thanos's harsh bites across your chest was overwhelming. Even though their styles were different, it was clear they both wanted to devour you.

Sangwoo's hand slowly slides down to the waistband of your pants before he pushes his hand into them. You tense up slightly when you feel his hand push your underwear to the side. “Relax.. no need to be so tense,” Sangwoo speaks quietly into your ear. He teases your entrance causing a moan to escape you but Thanos quickly covers it with a harsh kiss.

“You gotta be quiet, babe,” he says in between the kiss. His hand goes over to your neck and squeezes it slightly. While you were distracted by Thanos's rough kissing, Sangwoo slid a finger into your hole and slowly started to thrust it in and out. The feeling made you moan into Thanos's mouth and, in response, he shoved his tongue into your mouth to make you keep quiet.

Sangwoo continued to thrust his finger in and out as he whispered words into your ear. “You're so wet already. You're just a whore for us, aren't you?” He whispers before pushing a second finger inside. He knew exactly what he was doing when his thumb started to rub your clit. All his movements were nothing short of rough.

“Fuck, when's it my turn? It's not fair if you're the only one who gets to touch her,” Thanos spoke with slight annoyance. He didn't appreciate having to wait. “You can have her when she cums on my fingers,” Sangwoo says as he begins to thrust his fingers faster. While part of him wanted to take his time with you, he wasn't opposed to skipping right ahead and ruining you.

“After you cum, you're gonna sit on my face and I'm gonna taste it, yeah?” Thanos speaks into your ear with a smirk on his face. His dirty words were enough to bring you to the edge as you finally released on Sangwoo's finger with a moan. Sangwoo's fingers continued to thrust into your hole for a few moments before he pulled out.

“Christ, you're so fucking dirty. Releasing all your cum on my fingers like a whore,” Sangwoo spoke as he brought his fingers to your mouth. He shoved them in and made you lick him clean before pulling them out. “Your turn,” he said as he looked at Thanos.

Thanos practically jumped on you the moment he was told he could. He pulled you up before sitting down where you were originally and then pulling you down on his lap. “You're gonna ride my face, yeah? Let me taste you?” Thanos says as he looks at you with a small smirk. When you nod your head, he immediately grinned in a way that made you feel you were nothing more than prey for two predators.

He quickly stood you up to tug your pants off before laying back on one of the beds and pulling you on top of him. He grabbed your hips and forced you to hover over his face. “Fuck, look at your cunt. You're so wet for us, huh?” Thanos says mockingly before pushing you down onto his face before you could respond. You let out a high pitch whine and Sangwoo is quick to kiss you to hide it. The feeling of Thanos's tongue dipping in between your wet folds was was amazing. He clearly knew what he was doing.

Sangwoo pulled away from the kiss before walking behind you. “Your ass looks a little lonely” Sangwoo speaks as he brings a hand down to your ass and gently teases your hole. You certainly didn't expect him to try anything with your other hole but you were poorly mistaken when he suddenly starts putting a finger there. His other hand goes to cover your mouth to keep you quiet as you grow accustomed to the feeling of a finger entering your ass while Thanos continues to eat you out like he'd been starved.

Sangwoo slowly started thrusting his finger in and out of your ass to loosen you up. “You know why I'm doing this?” Sangwoo suddenly asks. When you don't respond, he grabs your chin and forces you to look at him. “Answer me,” he says firmly as he glares at you.

You shook your head no and he immediately let go of your chin roughly. “you'll see,” is all he says before thrusting a second finger in and once again covering your mouth. The feeling was enough to tip you over the edge for a second time as you released onto Thanos’s face.

“fuck..” Thanos mutters quietly before pulling you off his face. Sangwoo pulls his fingers out so as not to overstimulate you as Thanos sits up. “God, I need to fuck your tight pussy. You're gonna let me, yeah?” Thanos says as he moves you off of him and starts pulling his pants off.

“She's going to let both of us fuck her,” Sangwoo spoke up making Thanos pause for a moment. “..You're dirtier than I thought,” Thanos spoke with a smirk before taking off his boxers too. You weren't sure what they were planning but they clearly had something up their sleeve with the way they glanced at each other.

“come here,” Thanos said as he grabbed your hips and pulled you on top of him. He leans back before lining himself up with your entrance. “I'm gonna fuck my cock into you and you're going to take it, yeah? You're gonna be a good girl for me,” he says before slowly lowering you onto his cock. He lets out a groan as he feels you squeeze him - practically choking his dick.

He barely gives you any time to adjust to his length before starting to rock his hips up into yours. While you were distracted by the pleasure of having Thanos’s dick inside you, you didn't notice Sangwoo taking off his own pants right behind you. He pulled his boxers down just partially, enough to reveal his cock before he crawled behind you. His hands went to your shoulders and pushed you forward so you'd fall onto Thanos’s chest. Thanos didn't stop thrusting as he smirked. Oh, he couldn't wait to see you come undone.

Suddenly, you felt something press against your ass and you immediately knew what it was. You were going to say something but Thanos thrust into you deeper making you moan instead. Sangwoo’s tip caught against your hole and he took the opportunity to push in slowly. Thanos’s hand went to your throat as he squeezed it to keep you quiet. “shushh, you can take our cocks, baby,” he spoke as Sangwoo let out a grunt at how tight your ass was.

“fuck, loosen up. I can barely fit this tight cunt,” he spoke as he continued to push in. Running out of patience, he thrust the rest of his length in harshly making you cry out. Thanos was still thrusting up into you and it was so overwhelming to have two cocks inside of you.

Sangwoo pulled out slightly before thrusting back in and he began a slow pace to try to ease any pain. “God, she's so tight, huh?” Thanos mumbled as he kept slamming his hips into yours. “It's perfect. She was fucking made for our cocks,” Sangwoo responded as he began to pick up the pace. Thanos laughed at Sangwoo’s words, finding them amusing.

“she's such a fucking whore. Our whore,” He spoke as he let out a grunt. “fuck, I'm gonna fill you with my cum, baby. Take it,” Thanos spoke as his thrusts became sloppy. “hold fucking on. If you cum, she will too. I'm not close yet,” Sangwoo said with annoyance as he started fucking into your tight ass faster.

Thanos let out a groan and tried to slow down his pace to prolong the release. As much as he wanted to cum right now, he knew it's feel a million times better for you if he just waited. “I'm almost there,” Sangwoo says before he starts leaving kisses on your neck- biting and sucking at it. “fuck okay. You ready baby? Ready for our cum?” Thanos spoke as he began thrusting quicker again. All the confirmation they needed was the nod you gave while you cried out from the pleasure.

With one final hard thrust, Thanos and Sangwoo release their cum as deep as they could inside of you. You creamed on their cocks as you went limp on Thanos. He laughed at you before patting your hair gently. “what a good whore. Taking our cum like that,” Thanos spoke as Sangwoo slowly pulled out. “So good for us,” Sangwoo reaffirmed before sitting up next to you. He rubbed your back soothingly to help you come down from your high as Thanos slowly pulled out of you.

“I think we should do that again soon,”

#squid game smut #squid game #squid game 2 #squid game season 2 #cho sangwoo #cho sangwoo x reader #thanos squid game #thanos x reader #squid game x reader

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deathbxnny · 3 months ago

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hey I need you SO BAD to do like an arcane reaction where they’re drunk and what they do/say while it and btw I love your writing

What Arcane characters are like when drunk. | Vi, Caitlyn, Jinx, Ekko, Sevika x Gn!Reader

So this may have become a little too angsty for some of them, so uh... don't mind me-

Also, thank you so much! I'm glad you love my writing. It means a lot to me!<33

Content: Alcohol obviously, some potential heavy angst, Pit fighter Vi, established romantic relationships, some toxic behavior, this has been written by someone who has never drank a sip of alcohol in their life so I'm sorry if this is unrealistic, sfw

Reader has no set pronouns.

((Not fully proofread))

》VI

Her being drunk wasn't unusual, and in fact, it has become the norm for her at this point. It was the only way for her to numb the agony she was going through every day, and there was no stopping the cycle she was in. If she wasn't drunk, then she was fighting. But even the line that was drawn between those two states she was constantly in was becoming blurry and unintelligible. Things were getting out of hand, and so was her aggression towards everything that moved, anything that cared for her.

But at least you were still here with her, trying your best to keep her together and intact when she refused to be.

She can be cruel and unfocused whilst drunk, often either yelling or punching things to express her frustrations, and yet she never dared hurt you. You were the only light she had left, and she'd be damned if she snuffed you out, too. But this doesn't mean that she can control her words at times. She says things she regrets all the time, insults that cut deep or accusations that made no sense were common. Yet you stayed, you always stayed.

A part of her knows you deserve better, but until Jinx showed up, she refused to wane off the bottle that kept her even partially functioning daily. In a different life, she'd put the bottle down, however, and just finally hug you instead.

》CAITLYN

She doesn't drink much, and when she does, it's in strict moderation. She has a reputation to keep up and can't let her sharp senses falter at any time, especially once she becomes the commander of Piltover. But when it's just the two of you attempting to relax after an impossibly stressful day, the alcohol helps her relax and become more open with her troubles. Her grief had manifested into an uncontrollable force she shyed away from every speaking on, but in drunken moments like these, she'll allow herself to find melancholy in your arms, her flushed face pressed into your shoulder as she did so.

She may cry or laugh of the worries of the day, maybe break down from the guilt and frustrations, let the anger quell over but only still hesitantly even with her judgment clouded. This is a very rare state to see her in after the loss of her mother, and she trusts you to keep this vulnerable part of her safe and sound in your heart behind locked lips.

With that said, knowing how emotional she can get whilst drunk, she tries avoiding drinking too much during functions in case things get too much out of hand. She'd rather not make a fool of herself infront of everyone after all.

》JINX

She doesn't typically drink. But the few times she does with you at her side, she somehow becomes extremely calm and lazy. She'll practically lay in the chair she was sitting in, eyes squinting at a far away point on the wall, whilst she seemingly contemplates life. Most would think that the alcohol would enable her crazy tendencies even more, but alas, it simply turns her mostly docile.

I say mostly, as she usually mentally comes up with the craziest plans instead, all of which are questionably more unethical than the last. She'll eventually lose herself in those thoughts and become either unresponsive or mutter the silliest, incomprehensible things known to man. And there is certainly no in-between.

With that said, she will probably eventually snap out of it and begin rapidly speaking about all these thoughts to you without a single care in the world. Drunk Jinx is somehow less miserable and yet absolutely doesn't like the feeling of it afterward. Sure, it makes her mind stop thinking about her issues and past, but it still feels wrong, hence why it's rare to see her drunk.

Her terrible hangovers alone also cause her to stay away from alcohol in general. It's definitely not worth that pain to her.

》EKKO

Another person who doesn't drink often at all, albeit out of his responsibility as a leader. He has to be a good role model for everyone and only drinks when the occasion calls for it, like a festival or get together with friends and you. That's when he lets loose a little and allows himself to drink more than he probably should, resulting in a very clingy and loving Ekko.

His alcohol tolerance is embarrassingly low, and he always tells himself that he should know better than to down so many glasses at once... yet it's hard to keep count after about 2 and a half of them. Or so he'd say after he sobers up in the morning, much to your amusement. During the time he's fully hammered, though, he'll always have a hand in you and slur his words rather heavily, whilst he practically near proclaims his love for you for everyone to hear. This often results in you having to slap a hand over his mouth before he embarrasses himself further... which is somehow he hates.

He gets teased by the others all the time for it and glares when they mock his loving tone of voice that he only uses when he's in that impaired state with you. This alone makes him abstain from even a singular drop of alcohol... until the next festival roles around and he forgets to keep count again.

But hey, maybe he'll remember next time because you sure as hell won't remind him.

》SEVIKA

She drinks at bars all the time with you, although it's rare to see her ever get completely drunk. She has an extremely high tolerance to alcohol and it shows when there is barely a difference in her behavior. The only thing that may indicate something influencing her would be a slight slur in her voice and her being unwilling to get up or move around much at all. She'll just want to relax and play poker in peace, even if it starts getting hard to see the cards after a while.

Another way to tell that she may be getting drunk is by her sudden overprotectiveness. Sure, it was always there and never left, despite you being able to handle yourself alone. But when she's drunk, anyone that looks at you for too long in a way she doesn't like will either be punched in the face or yelled at to keep it moving.

She also definitely always denys being drunk or even tipsy when you ask her. Whether out of pride or stubbornness, you'll never know, but she will never admit to it. It doesn't matter if she denies it whilst being unable to walk straight either.

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homunculus-argument · 1 year ago

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Depictions of autistic characters in media almost always fall into the "insanely rude but somehow tolerated" -type, or more rarely into the "innocently pure sweet cinnamon roll who's oblivious about everything uwu"-cathegory, but I think it would be great to have a character somewhere who is very clearly on the spectrum, and also this dude fucks. Like, a lot. You start out assuming that this guy's remarks about how much he regularly gets laid are some sort of a self-deprecating, sarcastic joke, but as the story goes on and you get to know the characters better, it becomes evident that not only are women drawn to him everywhere he goes, clearly the ladies also keep coming back for seconds.

And when someone wonders how in the fuck does he do that when he literally can't look people in the eyes he just goes "they are enthralled by my pure animal energy and unfathomble autism" and isn't joking. And when asked why nobody else has managed to replicate that he just goes "skill issue." And throws out the note that a woman just handed to him - with her number clearly written on it - right in front of her because talking to two people at once is overwhelming and he is not in the mood for that now.

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hjvi · 11 days ago

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𝙋𝙚𝙣𝙖𝙡𝙩𝙮 𝙁𝙤𝙧 𝙈𝙮 𝘼𝙘𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣𝙨

Pairing: Hockey!Chris x Fem!Reader

Summary: Chris promised no more fights, but when a cocky opponent crosses the line and touches you, he can’t hold back.

Warnings: Smut. MDNI. Violence. Make-up sex, fingering, oral, all that good stuff.

Word Count: 7k

The arena hums with anticipation, the sound of skates slicing across the ice filling the space, mingling with the roar of the crowd. You pull your hoodie tighter around you, your breath visible in the chilly air as you glance down at the rink. Chris stands at center ice, his stick resting on his gloved hands, his dark brown hair tucked beneath his helmet but still somehow messy and perfectly him. His blue eyes dart toward you for a fleeting second, and even from this distance, you can see the unspoken promise in them—a reminder of the one he made to you last night.

“No more fights,” you had said firmly, clutching his bruised hands in yours. His knuckles were still raw from his last outburst on the ice, and you couldn’t bear to see him like that again. “You’re getting hurt, Chris. You’ve got to stop. For me.”

He’d hesitated, his jaw tightening, the stubborn defiance you knew so well flashing in his eyes. But then, as always, he softened under your gaze. “M’kay,” he murmured, his voice low but sincere. “I’ll try, for real. No more fights. Promise.”

And now, as you sit on the cold bench near the glass, watching him skate with that effortless confidence, you hope he’ll keep his word. He’s always had a temper, quick to boil over when someone crosses a line, and hockey only seems to amplify it. But tonight, you just want him to play. To stay out of trouble.

The game begins, and Chris is electric, weaving in and out of defenders like they’re nothing. He’s fast, almost too fast, and you can tell he’s showing off a little, especially when he scores the first goal and immediately glances toward you, a smirk tugging at his lips. You can’t help but smile back, your heart swelling with pride and affection.

But as the game wears on, your focus is drawn away from the ice.

It starts innocently enough—a guy from the opposing team, number 27, walking past during a break and tossing you a casual, “Hey, you’re way too pretty to be sitting here alone.”

You roll your eyes, leaning back in your seat. “Not alone. My boyfriend’s playing.”

He laughs, a cocky sound that grates on your nerves. “Oh, the bad boy on your team? Figures. Bet he doesn’t treat you half as good as I would.”

You glance toward the rink, where Chris is waiting for the puck to drop, his posture tense. He must have seen the interaction because his jaw is tight, his eyes narrowed as they flicker between you and number 27.

“Just leave me alone,” you say firmly, turning your attention back to the game.

But the guy doesn’t take the hint. Between plays, he keeps finding excuses to walk by, flashing you a grin or making some snide comment. Each time, you can feel Chris’s gaze burning into you, his grip on his stick tightening. He’s trying to hold back, you can tell, but the strain is visible in every line of his body.

When the second period ends, the guy takes it a step further.

He walks over to your bench, leaning casually against the barrier like he owns the place.

“So, what do you say? One date? I’ll even let your boyfriend keep his teeth—if he behaves.”

You stand up, your hands curling into fists. “I said no. Now get lost.”

But instead of backing off, he steps closer. His tone darkens, his words dripping with venom.

“You know, I think you’re the type who likes it rough. Does he even know what to do with you? I’d bet anything you’d be screaming for me in minutes.”

“Shut up,” you snap, trying to sound firm, but your voice trembles.

He grabs your wrist, pulling you closer, his grip tight and unrelenting. “Don’t act like you don’t like the attention. Your boyfriend’s too busy trying to show off to even notice.”

“Let go of me,” you say, your voice rising in panic.

But instead of releasing you, he shoves you against the cold plexiglass. One hand pins your wrists above your head, his breath hot and sickening on your cheek. “You scream, and I’ll just make it worse,” he murmurs, his tone dripping with malice.

Tears sting your eyes as you struggle against his grip, but he’s too strong. The cold air bites at your exposed skin as his free hand yanks your hoodie upward, exposing your chest. The chill makes you gasp, but it’s nothing compared to the humiliation burning in your chest.

“See? That’s better,” he sneers, his eyes roaming over you. “Betcha Chris love these titties.”

“Stop it!” you cry, your voice breaking, but he presses a hand over your mouth.

“We’ll save that screaming for later,” he whispers, leaning in to brush his lips against your cheek.

“Let me go!” you shout, your voice trembling, but he only presses closer.

“Relax, sweetheart,” he murmurs, his voice sickly sweet. “I just want a little peek.”

You thrash against him, but his hold is too strong. Red circles form on your wrists from his crushing grip.

“Get off me!” you scream, tears streaming down your cheeks.

The sound of someone shouting your name cuts through your panic, and suddenly, the weight is gone.

Chris’s teammate, Ryan, shoves the guy off you, yelling, “What the hell are you doing, man?!” Another teammate quickly steps in, throwing his jacket over your shoulders to shield you from view as you collapse to the bench, shaking.

Chris, meanwhile, is oblivious, focused entirely on the game. He scores again and turns toward you, expecting your usual wink of encouragement. But instead, his eyes land on the commotion.

His face pales.

One glance at you, disheveled and trembling, and at the guy being restrained by his teammates, is all it takes for Chris to understand.

Chris throws off his helmet and skates full speed toward the bench. He leaps over the boards in one fluid motion, his entire body radiating fury.

“Chris, no—” Ryan starts, but it’s too late.

Chris grabs the guy by the collar, yanking him to his feet. “You sick piece of shit,” he growls, his voice low and menacing.

Before the guy can respond, Chris’s fist connects with his jaw, sending him staggering.

The sound of the punch echoes through the arena, silencing the remaining murmurs of the crowd. The guy stumbles back, his smirk replaced by a look of shock as he tries to regain his balance. Chris doesn’t give him the chance. He grabs the guy’s jersey, yanking him forward, and lands another punch—this one to the cheekbone.

“You think you can put your hands on her?” Chris snarls, shoving him against the boards. “You think that’s okay?”

The guy smirks through the pain, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth. “What are you gonna do about it, lover boy? Hit me again?”

Chris obliges, landing another punch square in the guy’s face. Blood sprays from his nose, and he lets out a pained grunt, but Chris doesn’t stop.

“Chris, stop it!” you cry, but he’s too far gone.

His teammates try to intervene, trying to pull Chris back, but he shoves them off with a force that surprises everyone. His focus locked on the man before him. “You’re gonna learn real quick that you don’t mess with her,” he growls, landing another punch.

The guy struggles, trying to shove Chris off, but it’s like trying to stop a storm. Chris delivers a series of blows, each one harder than the last, the sound of bone meeting bone echoing in the arena.

“You don’t touch her!” Chris yells, his voice hoarse. His knuckles are split open now, blood staining his gloves and smearing across the guy’s face. “You don’t fucking look at her!”

The guy finally fights back, swinging a weak punch that barely grazes Chris’s shoulder. Chris laughs darkly, his eyes wild. “That all you got? Hit me, you coward! Come on, hit me!”

When the guy hesitates, Chris slaps him hard across the face, leaving a visible handprint on his cheek. “What’s the matter? Scared? Hit me!” he yells, his voice echoing through the arena.

The guy takes a shaky swing, but Chris dodges easily, retaliating with a brutal uppercut that sends him crumpling to the ground.

“Hit me back, you pussy!” Chris roars, slapping his own cheek hard enough to leave a red mark. “Come on! Hit me! Show me what kind of man you think you are!”

The guy tries to crawl away, his hands raised in surrender, but Chris grabs him by the collar and lifts him off the ground. “You were so confident before,” Chris spits, his face inches from the guy’s. “Where’s all that big talk now?”

“Chris, stop!” you scream, your voice breaking through the chaos.

But Chris doesn’t stop. He slams the guy against the boards, the plexiglass rattling with the force. The guy’s head snaps back, his eyes dazed, but Chris isn’t done. He raises his fist again, his knuckles raw and bleeding, ready to deliver another blow.

Chris looms over him, his chest heaving, his knuckles split open and bleeding. His jersey is torn, and a bruise is already forming on his cheekbone. He looks more animal than man, his rage consuming him entirely.

“Chris!” you cry again, louder this time, tears streaming down your face.

This time, he hears you. He freezes, his fist hovering in the air, his chest heaving as he glares down at the guy. Slowly, he lowers his hand, his fingers trembling.

The refs finally manage to pull him away, but Chris doesn’t resist. His gaze shifts to you, and the fury in his eyes softens, replaced by something else—guilt.

He starts toward you, his steps unsteady, his face a mess of bruises and blood.

“Are you okay?” he asks, his voice raw.

But you’re not okay. You’re shaking, your wrists throbbing from the earlier assault, tears streaming down your face. “Why didn’t you listen to me?” you sob, your voice trembling with a mixture of anger and fear.

Chris steps toward you, his hands outstretched, You flinch as he reaches for you, the memory of his violent outburst too fresh.

The reaction cuts him deeper than any punch ever could.

“I’m fine,” you manage to say, though your voice is shaky. You clutch the jacket tighter around you, your wrists still aching where the guy had pinned them.

Chris’s jaw tightens, and for a moment, he looks like he’s about to explode again. But then he takes a step back, running a hand through his disheveled hair. “I should’ve been paying attention,” he mutters. “I should’ve—”

“You promised me,” you interrupt, your voice trembling with a mix of anger and pain. “You promised no more fights.”

“He fucking deserved it!” Chris shouts, the anger bubbling back to the surface. “You think I’m just gonna stand there while some asshole puts his hands on you?”

“You didn’t have to beat him like that!” you shout, your voice rising. “You didn’t have to lose control!”

“I lost control because of him!” Chris snaps, his frustration bubbling to the surface. “Do you have any idea what it felt like to see him touching you, hurting you?”

“I told you I could handle it!” you yell, your voice echoing in the now-quiet arena.

“Handle it? He had his hands all over you!” Chris fires back, his voice rising. “Do you even understand what that looked like? What he was doing?”

“You think I don’t know?” you snap, tears streaming down your face. “You think I wasn’t terrified? But you losing control doesn’t make it better, Chris! It just makes it worse!

Chris stares at you, his chest heaving, his face a mixture of anger and anguish. “I can’t just stand by,” he says finally, his voice quieter but no less intense. “I can’t. Not when it’s you.”

“I didn’t need you to protect me like that!” you yell, your tears coming harder now. “I needed you to be the person you promised me you’d be!”

Chris looks away, his jaw tightening. “You don’t understand,” he mutters.

“No, you don’t understand!” you fire back, your voice shaking with emotion. “Every time you do this, every time you let your anger get the better of you, you hurt yourself—and you hurt me! Do you even see what you’ve done to yourself?”

Chris glances down at his hands, his knuckles bloody and swollen, his jersey smeared with blood that isn’t entirely his. For a moment, he looks lost, like a boy caught doing something he knows is wrong.

“I’m sorry,” he says quietly.

But it’s not enough. “Sorry doesn’t fix this, Chris,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper. “Sorry doesn’t undo the promises you’ve broken.”

His shoulders slump, and for a moment, he looks like he might cry. But then his stubbornness flares up again. “You’re mad at me for protecting you?” he asks, his voice rising. “For doing what he deserved?”

“I’m mad at you for not listening to me!” you shout. “For putting yourself in danger and making me watch you destroy yourself!”

“I don’t care about me!” Chris yells, his voice raw. “I care about you! I care about making sure no one ever touches you like that again!”

“That’s not your choice to make!” you scream, your voice breaking completely. “You don’t get to decide how to protect me, Chris. That’s my choice. Not yours.”

Chris stares at you, his chest heaving, his face a mess of emotions—anger, guilt, pain. Slowly, he takes a step back, his hands falling to his sides.

“I don’t know how to be what you want me to be,” he says softly, his voice barely audible. “I’m trying, but… I don’t know how.”

Your heart aches at his words, but you can’t let yourself soften—not yet. “Figure it out, Chris,” you say, your voice trembling. “Because I can’t do this anymore.”

Chris flinches like you’ve struck him, but he doesn’t argue. Instead, he nods slowly, his eyes fixed on the ground.

“I can’t lose you,” he says, barely above a whisper.

“You don’t lose me by letting me fight my own battles,” you say, your voice trembling. “You lose me by breaking your promises. By scaring me.”

The words hit him like a blow, and for the first time, Chris looks truly defeated. He nods slowly, his shoulders slumping, and turns away, leaving you standing there with tears in your eyes and your heart aching in your chest.

Leaving the rink felt like walking through a fog of tension so thick it pressed against your chest. Chris followed closely behind you, his skates swapped for sneakers, his bruised and bloodied face a painful reminder of the chaos earlier.

“Just get in the car,” he said, his voice hoarse but soft as if he was scared of pushing you further away.

You hesitated by the passenger door, your fingers twitching on the handle but unable to pull it open.

“I can’t,” you muttered, refusing to look at him. The sight of his swollen knuckles and the cut on his cheek only deepened the ache in your chest. “I can’t sit there and look at you right now, Chris.”

The words hit him visibly, his shoulders sagging. He stepped back, giving you space, but his hand hovered by the door handle of the driver’s side.

“I’ll park nearby. We don’t… we don’t have to talk about it yet. I just need to get you home safe.”

Reluctantly, you climbed into the passenger seat, folding into yourself as far away from him as you could manage. The silence in the car was suffocating, broken only by the hum of the engine and the occasional, barely audible hiss of Chris’s sharp inhales every time he moved his bruised body.

You sat stiffly, your arms crossed tightly over your chest, refusing to look his way. Chris’s knuckles gripped the steering wheel so tightly that they turned white, though it was hard to tell under the dried blood. His lip was split, the swelling on his cheekbone casting a shadow over his face.

At a red light, you finally spoke. “Pull over.”

Chris’s head whipped toward you. “What? Why?”

“Just do it, Chris. Please.” Your voice was steady, but the tremor underneath was unmistakable.

He obeyed without another word, pulling into an empty lot. You got out, slamming the door behind you, the sound reverberating through the quiet night. Chris followed, watching as you rummaged through the trunk and pulled out a first-aid kit you always kept there—ironically, because of him.

“Sit,” you ordered, pointing to the curb.

He hesitated but sat down, his shoulders hunched as he stared at the ground. You crouched in front of him, your hands trembling as you opened the kit. The sight of his face up close made your stomach twist. His bruises were angry and purple, a stark contrast against his pale skin. Dried blood clung stubbornly to his knuckles.

“You don’t have to do this,” he said quietly as you opened his hockey bag and fished out a small first-aid kit.

“I don’t want to,” you replied sharply, your hands trembling as you grabbed antiseptic wipes and gauze. “But someone has to, because you clearly don’t care what happens to you.”

The sting in your words made him flinch, but he didn’t argue. He let you dab at the cuts on his face, wincing now and then but staying still. Your hands shook the entire time, a mix of anger and worry making your chest feel tight.

You cleaned his knuckles with practiced care, though your hands shook so much that you nearly dropped the alcohol wipes.

“You promised me, Chris,” you whispered, the words heavy with hurt. “And look at you now.”

His blue eyes, usually so confident, were full of guilt as he looked at you. “I… I’m sorry. I don’t know how to make it right, but I’m sorry.”

Chris’s throat bobbed as he swallowed hard. “I…couldn’t… I saw him…”

“Stop.” You cut him off, your voice trembling with the weight of your emotions. “Just stop. I can’t hear it right now.”

He nodded, biting down on his lower lip so hard you worried he’d split it further. The silence between you stretched thin, filled only by the faint rustle of bandages and the distant hum of traffic.

When you finished, you stood abruptly, stuffing the used wipes back into the kit. “Let’s go.”

The drive home was no better. You stared out the window, your arms crossed, while Chris kept stealing glances at you, his jaw tight. As soon as you reached the house, you were out of the car and inside before he could say a word. You slammed the bedroom door behind you, locking it for good measure.

Chris knocked once, twice, but you ignored him, curling up on the bed with tears streaming silently down your cheeks.

Hours passed. The silence in the house was heavy, punctuated only by the occasional creak of the floorboards as Chris paced the living room. You lay on the bed, staring at the ceiling, your chest tight and your eyes burning from unshed tears. When a soft knock came at your door, you didn’t answer, expecting him to give up again. But instead, his voice broke the silence.

“Hey,” Chris’s voice was muffled through the door. “Can I… Can we talk? Please?”

You didn’t respond. He sighed, the sound heavy with guilt.

“I was thinking… maybe we could go get McDonald’s fries. You love those, right? It’ll… it’ll help. Please. Just let me do something for you.”

Your stomach churned, torn between your anger and the small, stubborn part of you that missed him—that wanted to believe he could fix this. Finally, you got up and unlocked the door. Chris stood there, looking more broken than ever.

Chris standing there, his hands shoved into his hoodie pockets. His face was even more bruised now, the swelling setting in, and you hated the pang of concern it caused.

Wordlessly, you grabbed your jacket and followed him to the car. The drive to McDonald’s was silent, but less tense than before. When Chris ordered, he only got fries for you and a drink for himself.

“You’re not eating?” you asked, your voice quieter than you’d intended.

He shook his head. “My stomach…” His leg bounced nervously as he added, “I’m just… not hungry right now.”

When the food came, you barely touched it. You sipped on your Pepsi while Chris picked at the fries, holding one up to you.

“You should eat something,” he said softly.

“I’m not hungry either,” you replied, looking out the window.

“Eat,” he urged gently.

“No,” you said firmly, turning your head away.

His hand faltered, You noticed then that his hands looked different—bare.

“You… took off your rings?” you asked, your voice soft as your eyes lingered on his bruised knuckles.

He nodded slowly, his gaze fixed on the steering wheel, his fingers tightening on it briefly before relaxing. “Yeah,” he said, almost a whisper. “They have cracks in them now. And… I know little things like that can… trigger stuff. I just…” He trailed off, his leg bouncing erratically. “I didn’t want to make it worse. Even seeing me like this…” His voice cracked, his words faltering as he turned to you, raw and exposed. “I’m sorry. I love you.”

The sincerity in his voice broke something inside you. You turned to look at him fully, taking in the dark circles under his eyes, the bruises, and the raw guilt etched into every line of his face. Without thinking, you leaned across the console and kissed him.

The kiss wasn’t soft or tentative—it was desperate, almost frantic, a collision of emotions you’d both been holding back for too long. Chris responded immediately, a quiet, surprised sound escaping him as he slid a hand to your jaw, his rough thumb brushing against your cheek. The other hand tangled in your hair, anchoring you to him as if letting go wasn’t an option.

His lips were warm and insistent, moving against yours with a passion that left no room for doubt. He kissed you like he was trying to pour every ounce of remorse, every unspoken word, every promise of love into you. Your fingers gripped his hoodie tightly, pulling him closer, needing to feel the solidity of him, the proof that he was here and not slipping away.

You didn’t realize you’d climbed into his lap until you felt the firm press of his thighs beneath you, your knees brushing the worn fabric of the seat. The steering wheel was digging into your back slightly, but it didn’t matter. You needed this closeness, this raw, unfiltered connection.

Chris’s hands slid down your sides, pausing at your waist as if he was afraid to hold on too tightly. His breath hitched when your thumb brushed over the bruise on his cheek, and he winced slightly but didn’t pull back. Instead, he kissed you harder, his teeth grazing your lower lip in a way that sent shivers down your spine.

You pulled back just enough to catch your breath, but Chris didn’t let you go far. “I’m so sorry,” he murmured against your lips, his voice shaky. He kissed you again, harder this time, his fingers slipping under your shirt to rest against your bare skin.

You gasped at the contact, the warmth of his touch contrasting with the rough texture of his bruised knuckles. It sent a shiver through you, making you grip his hoodie tightly.

“Chris,” you breathed between kisses, your voice trembling with a mix of emotions.

“I’m here,” he whispered, his lips brushing against yours with every word. “I’m here, and I’m so sorry.”

His hand moved slowly, reverently, tracing small circles on your skin. The tenderness in his touch was almost overwhelming, a stark contrast to the raw intensity of his kisses. You could feel the faint cuts on his fingers, each one a reminder of the night’s events, but it didn’t make you pull away. If anything, it made you kiss him harder, needing to feel connected to him in a way that words couldn’t achieve.

“I love you,” he said between kisses, his voice thick with emotion. “So much.”

When you finally pulled back for air, you stayed close, your forehead resting against his. His breath was warm against your lips, his chest rising and falling rapidly beneath you. For a moment, neither of you spoke, the only sound the faint hum of the engine and the soft rain tapping against the windows.

Your gaze drifted downward, and that’s when you noticed the faint discoloration peeking out from the neckline of his hoodie. Your fingers reached out instinctively, brushing against the bruise on his collarbone. Chris flinched, a quiet hiss escaping him, but he didn’t stop you.

“Does it hurt?” you asked softly, your voice trembling with concern.

“A little,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. He glanced down at your hand, his gaze following the slow movement of your thumb over the bruise.

You felt the faintest tremor in his body, and then his leg started bouncing beneath you again. His hands, which had been resting lightly on your hips, moved hesitantly. He began playing with your fingers, his rough, calloused hands dwarfing yours as he twirled them gently, almost absentmindedly.

Your breath caught as you noticed the details of his hands—the rawness of his knuckles, the faint streaks of dried blood around the small cuts, the way his nails were uneven from nervous chewing or a hasty attempt to clean them. His hands had always been rough, worn from years of work and fights, and yet they moved over your fingers so delicately, as if afraid they might break.

“Chris,” you said softly, tilting your head to look at him. His leg stilled for a moment before starting up again.

“What’s wrong?” you asked, your voice gentle but insistent.

He hesitated, his jaw working as he avoided your gaze. His hands tightened slightly around yours, his thumbs tracing circles on the backs of your palms. When he finally spoke, his voice was low, almost shy. “M’so sensitive,” he murmured, his accent thicker than usual. His eyes flickered up to meet yours for a fleeting second before dropping again. “Can I… make you feel better?”

Mere moments had passed before you were both clamoring into the back of the van, limbs bumping into limbs, soft laughter echoing inside the vehicle as Chris reached over your middle to pull the door shut. As soon as the door had shut, your lips were on his, your hands blindly fumbling with the front of his jeans.

You'd just gotten the button undone when his hands wrapped around your wrists, pulling them back as he pulled away from your kiss. You were left pouting, the sight adorable and pitiful enough to pull a laugh from Chris as he set your hands down in your lap.

Elated laughter bubbled in your chest as his hands slid up and underneath your skirt, the fabric bunching up around your hips. You helped him with a gentle lift of your hips, allowing him to hook his fingers around the waistband of your underwear, before slinking the fabric down your legs.

"You're going to cum on my tongue." He stated, tone full of nonchalance as he tossed your underwear toward the front of the car. "And, I want you over me when you do."

"You want me to sit on your face?" You asked, lips quirking up into a smile as you bit back laughter, truly believing he was joking. "Is that what you're asking me?"

Chris only nodded, and only then did the realization of his request register in your mind. Heat prickled at the nape of your neck, spreading forward until it encompassed your chest in a deep blush. Sensing your nerves, Chris's thumbs rubbed gentle circles above your hip bones, his head ducking down to meet your avoidant gaze.

"Hey," he whispered. " Nothin' I haven't seen before. It'll feel good, doll, promise."

So, you allowed him to help you into a position that didn't have both of you groaning in discomfort. Maneuvering into a position where you straddled his shoulders, in the back of an already narrow car, wasn't exactly the easiest to accomplish. Somehow, you both managed, mostly thanks to Chris's hands keeping you steady as you moved over him.

The chill of his scarred fingers bit into your thighs, keeping you sunk in the present, hovered over him as he looked up at you from below. There was nothing other than pure, unadulterated lust pouring from his eyes, pupils blown so heavily there was only a crescent of color visible. His fingers tapped, once and then again, a nonverbal request for you to lower yourself.

So you did.

He met you halfway, tongue licking a fat stripe up your cunt, delving between your folds to collect your essence against his tastebuds. He wanted to savor you, that much was readily apparent by his hardened grasp on your thighs, all but cementing you atop his face. Your head fell back, eyes fluttering shut as a plethora of broken-off moans tumbled past your lips.

You begged for him, murmuring his name between praises lost on your ears, but not his. Each word, no matter how garbled by pleasure, left his hips rutting up into the air as he circled his tongue around your clit. Your hips moved in synchrony with his tongue, adjacent swirls, and he let you. He had always favored dominance, being in control of the situation, but having you atop him had him praising every divine figure he could conjure in his lust-riddled mind.

“Chris-“ You crooned, the noise so sweet it pulled a moan from his chest, the vibration left directly against your aching cunt. You smiled, a mixture of a laugh and moan leaving you as your hands raked through his hair, tugging at the short strands. “So good, Baby.”

With an open-mouthed kiss to your clit, he pulled away. It was for a fraction of a second, needed to slip his right hand between your thighs, but you were left whining and pouting. He tutted from between your thighs, lips, and chin glistening with your cum.

“C’mon, doll.” He whispered as his middle and ring fingers pushed inside of you, delicately curling to brush against a spot that had your thighs clamping down around him. “It'll feel good, I promise.”

His left hand squeezed your hip, guiding you just as he would if you were riding him. You unconsciously followed his guidance, sliding down onto his fingers, before raising yourself, only to repeat the motion over, and over. Lewd squelches sounded from between your thighs, your cunt dripping a mixture of cum and saliva down onto his palm.

“See?” He asked through a breathy laugh, quickly resuming his position between your thighs. “Told ‘ya I’d make you feel better.”

You wanted to berate him for his cockiness, you truly did, but the feeling of his lips encircling your clit left you breathless. If anything, any ridicule would’ve turned into a garbled mess of his name.

A groan of a laugh reverberated in Chris’s chest, yet he never pulled away. His tongue lapped at your clit, intervals of swirls and sucks following each grunt he managed to sound out. The sounds were carnal, stoking the steadily building flame in your lower stomach. Your fingers tightened their hold on his hair, pulling him closer, yourself closer. In truth, you weren’t sure if he could breathe, but neither of you moved from where you were.

“That’s it, Baby.” He rasped, words hardly audible, muffled from your cunt. You managed a sighed moan in response, your hips rolling, sliding your cunt against his tongue. His fingers thrusted into you, mimicking the tempo of his eager tongue, each lap and circle of the muscle pushing you closer to the edge.

The uptake of an octave, your head rolling back as your eyes squeezed shut; Chris knew each instinctual move of your body by heart. His eyes stayed locked on you, memorizing the sight of you coming undone above him, riding his face like a woman starved. His free hand lifted from your hip, curving around the plush of your ass, knowing he needed a tight hold on you to keep you steady.

“Chri-“

There it was, the familiar beckon of his name. His cock strained against the confines of his boxers, tip leaking precum, smearing against the now dampened fabric. His thighs tensed as his hips rolled, desperately seeking some form of reprieve as your cunt twitched around his fingers. Instead of verbalizing his reply, he squeezed the swell of your ass, wordlessly urging you to cum.

White-hot pleasure seared your veins, unconsciously twitching your limbs, tightening your hold on his hair. Your cunt spasmed, clit throbbing against his circling tongue. You cursed under your breath, eyes squeezed shut, mind solely focused on the ecstasy overtaking your body. Chris grounded you with slow brushes of his hand along your thigh, fingers still inside of you, lips placing gentle kisses on your oversensitive clit.

“Alright?” He asked, tone rough enough to pull a surprised laugh from you. You nodded, threading your fingers through his hair.

“More than alright.” You replied. “Way more.”

Instead of hovering over his face for another second with wobbly legs, you moved yourself back, giving Chris enough time to situate himself upright. His hands found your hips quickly after, gently guiding you back to his lap.

In an almost instinctive move, you lowered yourself to place your lips on his. His hands slid around your back, fingers absentmindedly grabbing at the fabric of your hoodie as his lips moved with yours.

You braced yourself against the rear windshield, the slick condensation gathering in the palm of your hands, smearing your fingerprints down the pane as your lips moved against his. If anyone had passed by, anyone at all, they would've gathered what you both had gotten up to.

Neither of you could bring yourself to care, not when Chris slipped his hands underneath the back of your shirt, his fingernails scraping along the curve of your back to have you closer as he sucked your tongue.

Your lips curved into a smile at the move, the lucrative, nearly addictive slide of his tongue against your own. He knew you, knew your body and how to make it tick. Your hips rocked against his lap, causing his already hard cock to twitch and pulse against the confines of his jeans.

"You're still hard," you rasped into the kiss, "I can make you feel good, too."

He groaned, his eyebrows knitting together as his hips bucked up into you. You bit at your bottom lip as you moved your hands from the rear windshield, letting your now cool skin slide down his front, keeping your eyes locked with his as you unzipped his jeans.

His lips parted in a silent moan as your hand slipped underneath the hem of his boxers, your fingers curling around the thick base of his cock. You could feel each twitch of his cock beneath your palm, the skin slick and warm, coated in his precum. You slid your hand up, leisurely pumping him, the act enough to have him grunting out your name.

You savored each lecherous moan that fell from his lips. With a shift of your hips, you centered yourself over his thigh, rolling your hips down in tandem with each stroke of his cock. You knew you were dampening the denim, soiling it, yet all you saw reflected in Chris's eyes was the same debauchery you held heavy in your mind.

“Fuck me.” You begged, tired of the hassle, of denying yourself the most innate of pleasures. He relented with a lift of your body, allowing his hard cock to slide along your folds, catching against you. You watched as he lowered you onto him, his cock sliding into you deliciously slow.

Thin, red lines followed his nails as they dragged up the skin of your thighs, coming to a halt at your hips where he steadied you. You could feel his cock pulse inside of you, twitching just before your cervix. You watched him with bated breath, allowing him to guide each movement of your hips, and he did so with precision.

"So tight," he murmured, eyebrows knitted together in a mixture of pure lust and concentration, as though the mere sight of you atop him would undo him if he gave into it. "So fuckin' good."

All you could muster was a moan in response, your hips rolling forward, each forward motion brushing your clit against his lower stomach. Your thighs strained, muscles burning, yet you paid them no mind in favor of the persistent push of Chris's cock, the way his tip brushed against your g-spot with each shift of his hips.

His eyes flitted, sight torn between your breasts and the needy, desperate look in your eyes. He shifted beneath you, planting his feet against the floorboard, giving himself enough stability to thrust upward, pushing himself deeper than before.

The shift in position forced the air from your lungs, a pitiful, broken-off mess of a moan passing your parted lips as you grasped his shoulders. He whispered something to you, but whatever it was had been lost on your muddled mind in favor of the budding feeling of ecstasy coiling in your lower stomach.

"Chris-" You whined, the urgency in your call not lost on him. He nodded, wetting his lips as he rolled his hips upward. You could feel your arousal dripping between your thighs, smearing along your skin as well as his, coating his lower stomach in your cum.

"That's it, doll." He whispered, his left hand moving between your thighs to circle his thumb around your clit, rhythm syncing with each pump of his hips. "C'mon, cum for me."

Ecstasy coiled tight in your stomach, and with each swirl of his thumb and pump of his cock, you felt it twist tighter and tighter. Your hands moved from his shoulders, fingers threading through the back of his hair where you pulled. His mouth fell open, eyebrows lifting as an expression of shock-induced euphoria crossed his face.

So, you pulled harder, the harshness of your hold mirrored in the desperate way you fucked yourself on his cock, movements so frenzied you felt your muscles burning beneath your skin.

A deep, almost sinful moan rumbled in his chest. You swallowed it with a kiss to his lips, hands moving to his jaw as your tongue moved with his. His thumb was slick against your clit, and with a gasp of his name, your cunt spasmed around his cock.

"Fuck, that's it." He groaned, words strained as he teetered on the edge of his orgasm. "Let it out, doll."

Your lips moved from his, kisses trailing down his cheek, onto his jaw, before you settled your cheek to his shoulder, simply choosing to give yourself over to the onslaught of pleasure Chris had you wrapped up in. Chris's hold on your hip tightened as his head fell back, his eyes screwed shut, jaw clenched as his cock twitched inside of you, each pulse filling you with his cum.

You both shared the blissful silence that came afterward, the only noises being the occasional breath and whispered praise, the brush of his hands against your skin.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, words muffled by the press of his lips against your throat. "I'm sorry."

You nodded, leaning into his touch, his lips, with a thread of your fingers through his hair. He continued murmuring into your skin, you drank in each word, heart slowing in your chest, calming with the promises he spoke only to you.

His hand moved from your hip, thumb, and forefinger resting against your chin, tipping your head up to meet his eyes. His eyebrows were furrowed together, skin coated in a thin veneer of sweat. His thumb brushed across your bottom lip, yet his eyes never left yours.

"You're my girl." He whispered, and you nodded. "I'd never do anything to hurt you."

You placed a kiss on the pad of his thumb, the sincerity in his words causing you to smile. He smiled in return, fingers splaying against your cheek where he held you gently.

"It won't happen again, alright?"

His voice was gentle, his eyes reflecting the same tenderness. You leaned in, wrapping your arms around the back of his neck and pressing your face into the crook of it. As your head rested there, the faint bruise on his skin seemed to fade under the warmth of your touch. He pulled you closer, his arms encircling your waist, and his hands softly brushing between your shoulder blades, meeting your embrace with a soothing comfort.

"Good apology, been workin' on it for a while?" You joked, placing a kiss on his jaw with a soft bout of laughter. You felt him laugh, the vibration of his chest against yours.

"Nope." He admitted, turning his head to press a kiss to your temple. "You're worth a genuine apology."

"Sap." You teased, but your tone gave way to your true feelings, how much you appreciated his honesty, his words. He caught on, but never made it known, instead choosing to reply with another kiss to your skin.

"Yeah, guess I am."

A/N: I can’t tell you how long I’ve been waiting to post a fic about Chris playing hockey. The idea of him being so competitive, passionate, and, let’s face it, a little too quick to throw punches has been living rent-free in my mind forever. Thank you so much for reading! It means the world to me that you took the time to dive into this story any interactions are appreciated 😊

tags- tags - : @swagalicious260 @watercolorskyy @coquettechris @lovesturni0l0s @christmastreecake @ellbowmacaroni @blog-luvdance @sophand4n4 @meg4-matt44

#matt sturniolo #nick sturniolo #chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #the sturniolo triplets #nicolas sturniolo #sturniolo smut #matt stuniolo fanfic #matt sturniolo x reader #matthew sturniolo #matt sturniolo edit #matt sturniolo fluff #chris sturniolo x reader #chris sturiolo fanfic #chris sturniolo fluff #sturniolo

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thalwri · 4 days ago

Text

SPILLED PAINT!

synopsis: your painting genius rafayel needed your help with getting more supplies for his next project, not realising fighting more wanderers was the last thing you wanted. what better than to give him a piece of your mind?

warnings: smut, couch sex, angry sex, multiple orgasms, orgasm denial (if you squint), creampie, squirting, sub!rafayel

wc: 1,2k

his head was gonna explode, his head was gonna explode, rafayel’s head was gonna explode.

he was so fucked out, on the brim of losing his mind– the only comprehensible thing he could say without babbling was your name– and it didn’t look like you would be stopping anytime soon.

watching you basically obliterate him in his favourite position was the last thing he had on his bingo card for the day, and yet he was still asking himself how he found himself on the couch in his studio, covered in paint and cum from his last two orgasms slowly and painfully drawn out by you relentlessly bouncing on his cock.

somehow rafayel managed to piss you off just enough to get humbled beyond his imagination.

“you decide to throw a tantrum–“ each syllable was cruelly enunciated with each wet slap of colliding skin. “when i get back after a mission, almost having gotten my arms ripped off– fuck!– and you– you want me to get you protocores for your paint?!”

oh, you were mad mad.

you had gotten back after attacking at least four wanderers to the point where you were left in a hassled state. the last thing you wanted was to go on an endless trip fighting more wanderers for protocores.

gods, you adored rafayel but this? you refused to take it.

he was surprised, yes, but oh was he more than happy to tell thomas his next project would be delayed if it meant consoling your anger towards him. but he didn’t see you riding him to oblivion was one of those things.

you kept your hands on his length, recklessly pumping away while he stammered while speaking to his colleague. he kept jumbling his words, moans slipped out of his lips, and he completely lost it the moment your pretty mouth took him deep down your throat.

the whiny cry you heard was enough for him to quickly drop the call and devote his attention to you and just you.

his eyes were halfway rolled straight into his skull and was becoming a fixed position just from how deliberately tightly your warm walls were squeezing on him. his cock was beyond sensitive, almost aching with the need to cum and every time he tried to hold off the fact that he was about to you raised your hips, leaving his tip to be rained on by your creamy wetness to tease him– deny him of what he needed and deserved.

and if he did cum it definitely wasn’t satisfactory. instead of cumming inside and painting your insides with his hot seed, like wasted splatters of the paint on the floor his would just stain the couch you were mounting him on.

“p–please– please cutie,” he whined, his fingers were pressing small bruises onto your waist to try keep you as low as possible– another futile attempt. “i promise– ah– ah– i promise i won’t– i’ll stop– gods, please!”

your hand slithered up to his neck and slowly squeezed, restricting his already laboured breathing. rafayel was starting to see stars and he couldn’t tell if this familiar feeling was something he liked or was terrified of. he wasn’t a stranger to being choked by your cute hands but something about the way your nails were gently poking his skin… if he wasn’t already hard you would have felt his boner immediately.

“ ‘m gonna paint you white,” you seethed, licking the shell of his ear which brought him into a needy shudder. you brought yourself into a grind, rocking back and forth on his hips to give your swollen clit a bit of stimulation. “m’gonna cover your skin in your sticky, hot cum.”

“fuck, pussy too good– you– oh, you’re so mean.” his whimpers alone could make you do as much as squirt all over him.

“it’s only– ah– just a taste.” you huffed, feeling one of his hands reach for your chest squished against him. he was so handsy. you clenched your cunny around his cock, dragging his cock in and out of you.

there was already a few creamy rings wrapped around his base that showed exactly how many times you came on him. you should have been rendered exhausted after the most recent one but your irritation just egged you on to do more. like you had reserves of energy solely for this moment.

“can f-feel you throbbing so much inside me,” you moaned, throwing your head back at the blood rushing sensation. you just loved how bulgy his cock was, how his crying mushroom tip kept on tickling your sweet spot, how he fit so well inside you. like you were made for each other.

somehow whenever you helped him out with his painting or being his muse, you’d always end up on him, ravishing each other abandoning all your other responsibilities. your professional skill at draining his balls clean was a marvelling trait that made rafayel both fear and adore you even more.

his sweet bodyguard reducing him to fishy mush. what a dream.

“please cutie,” rafayel’s eyes fluttered shut as his throat bobbed in desperation. “let me– i need– i–“

“you need what, my love?” you pressed wet kisses all over his sweat-slick skin with a cruel giggle as you returned to slamming your hips on his. “speak to me.”

“c-can’t–“ a choked cry escaped his lips. “need to– inside– please!”

“you wanna cum inside?” you cooed. the veins on his temple pulsated against his own skin. “do you think you deserve it?”

his head bobbed in frantic desperation, purple hair stuck to his face like glue. that pretty, skilled tongue hung out of his mouth, drool dripping off his chin. oh he was so pussydrunk wasn’t he? so needy for you and drunk off your cunny draining him of everything he had.

good thing you were getting close as well. your orgasms were coming quicker after the last, and your anger was beginning to fizzle out too. so much so that you felt a little bad for torturing you poor artist for so long.

“i deserve it– need it,” you were both so dangerously close, moving faster and faster by the second. you bounced faster and faster, grinding your hips in pleasured pain. your moans mingled and twisted in the flowing air, carrying your lewd union as far as the sea. rafayel babbled incomprehensible speech, almost sounded like the things he said in lumerian.

your eyes slowly crossed as your walls clamped around his cock, bringing you to your climax with a hoarse cry. the pressure alone sent thick strings of his cum filling you up, draining him of his last drops. rafayel’s jaw hung, completely driven insane from the sheer pleasure of it all. he could just lie there with you, all sticky and wet.

but naturally, as he expected, you just kept going riding through the waves of pleasure that burned you both. again and again until streams of your juices spurted everywhere, spattering your bodies and the couch.

“did you–“ squirt? oh definitely.

your body collapsed on his as you both panted in attempt to calm yourselves from your ministrations. rafayel massaged your hips, occasionally pinching your skin to tease you.

“are you still mad, cutie?” he pecked your dampened skin in gentle apology. you tiredly groaned into his neck in response. “i’ll take that as a no then.”

he paused for a beat. “does that mean you’ll help me find more protocore shards?”

“i’ll make you shoot blanks.”

“looking forward to it, cutie.”

#✧.* thalwri #✧.* thalwri works #love and deepspace smut #love and deepspace x reader #lads rafayel #lnds rafayel #l&ds rafayel #rafayel x you #rafayel x reader #rafayel love and deepspace #rafayel smut

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futfemfantasies · 16 days ago

Note

Hello, I hope you're well, if you write for mass you can do a story where you date Alexia or Jenni's sister, and they don't take kindly to the relationship you have together

Captain’s little sister // Alexia Putellas x reader

The first time you met Alba you were smitten. It was at a post-match dinner in Barcelona after the team's Copa de la Reina final win. As the newest addition to the squad, this was your first trophy win so it was pretty special.

Alba wasn’t like her sister. She was quieter, with a love for teaching that made her world apart from the football-dominated universe that you and Alexia inhabited. Both your and Alba’s eyes met for a second from across the room and for a brief moment, the noise of the bustling restaurant faded into the background.

“Y/N, this is my sister, Alba,” Alexia proudly introduced. “She’s studying teaching at the University of Barcelona.”

“Nice to meet you.” You had said, your voice faltering slightly under the intensity of Alba’s gaze.

Over the following months, you found yourself increasingly drawn closer to Alba. It started innocently: a few shared conversations post match when playing at home, a coffee even now and again when Alexia was busy. Alba, for her part, was equally captivated. She admired your dedication to being the best for Barça and for the Lionesses on the international stage.

The first time they kissed, it was after a late-night walk along the Barcelona beachfront. The lights of the city reflected off the water as Alba leaned in, her expression nervous but determined. You didn’t pull away. In that moment, all that mattered was Alba’s hand on your waist pulling you closer and the unspoken connection you both shared.

The relationship was hidden for a while. It wasn’t out of shame, but out of caution. You knew how protective Alexia was of Alba. You had seen it firsthand in how Alexia watched over her sister, ensuring she stayed out of the public eye and away from unnecessary scrutiny.

Hiding their relationship meant dodging questions and sneaking around, which became increasingly difficult as Alba started attending more matches. You could feel Alexia’s eyes on you during team dinners and training sessions, her gaze sharp and questioning.

One night after training, Alexia questions her suspicions. “You’ve been spending a lot of time with Alba.”

“She’s great company,” You replied, trying to keep your voice steady.

Alexia nodded slowly, her expression unreadable. “ Just remember - she’s my little sister. Be careful with her.”

You nodded, but your heart ached at the unspoken implications.

The truth unraveled during international break. Reader had flown back to England to represent the Lionesses in a few friendlies, while Alexia was with the Spanish national team. Alba, missing you, had posted a photo on her instagram story with the caption missing her a little bit more today :( - a candid photo of you walking in front of Alba on the beach. It was meant to be private, shared only to Alba’s close friends, but somehow, it reached Alexia.

The call came late at night, just as you closed your hotel room door after a game.

“What the hell is this?” Alexia’s voice was sharp, her anger palpable even through the phone.

You sighed, running a hand through your hair. “Alexia I-”

“You’re dating Alba? My sister?”

“Yes,” Reader admitted, your voice steady despite the guilt eating away at you. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner, but I care about her. A lot.”

There was a long pause before Alexia spoke again, her voice quieter but no less intense. “Do you have any idea what you’re getting into? What this could mean for her? For us as teammates?”

“I do,” You said firmly. “And I would never do anything to hurt her. Or you.”

The conversation ended without another word spoken, leaving you with a sinking feeling that things were about to get much worse.

After international break concluded, the tension between you and Alexia was impossible to ignore. On the pitch, Alexia was professional, but her passes to you were a tad too hard, her instructions clipped and cold.

Alba was caught in the middle. She tried to mediate, but Alexia’s stubbornness and your guilt made the progress slow.

“She’ll come around,” Alba reassured you as you both cuddled up on her couch. “She just needs time.”

“I hope you’re right.” You said, your voice heavy with doubt as you pull the blanket on you both.

The breaking point came during a Champions League match against Lyon. With the game tied and minutes left on the clock, a crucial miscommunication between you and Alexia led to a turnover and a Lyon goal. The defeat stung, but Alexia’s reaction stung worse.

“What were you thinking?” she snapped in the locker room afterward, her voice echoing off the walls.

You stood your ground, enough was enough. “Maybe if you weren’t so focused on punishing me for dating Alba, we wouldn’t have lost!”

The room fell silent. Alexia stared at you, her expression a mix of shock and anger. Without another word, you grabbed your bag and left.

The next day at training, the tension between you and Alexia reached a boiling point. It started with a misplaced pass. You had been open, calling for the ball, but Alexia ignored you, opting to pass to another teammate instead. You clenched your jaw, letting it go, a few hands patting your shoulder as the drill gets restarted. But then it happened again. And again.

“Alexia!” You snapped, stopping mid-drill, clearing having enough of Alexia’s actions. The other players glanced around uneasily, sensing the brewing storm. “Are you seriously going to freeze me out during training?”

Alexia turned, her expression cold. “Maybe if you focused on the game instead of my sister, we wouldn’t have lost to Lyon.”

The words hit like a punch to the gut. Reader’s chest tightened as they stared at Alexia, anger and hurt boiling over. “That’s what this is about? You can’t handle the fact that Alba and I are together,, so you’re sabotaging the team?”

Alexia’s jaw clenched, her eyes narrowing. “I’m not sabotaging anything, I just don’t trust you anymore.”

“Why? Because I’m dating Alba? Or because you can’t control this part of her life?” You shot back, voice rising.

The other players shifted uncomfortably as they looked towards their coach to step in. “That’s enough. Both of you, off the pitch. Now!”

You sat on the bench outside the training centre, waiting for Alba to pick you up since your car is getting repaired. The argument replayed in your mind, the words cutting deeper than the last. You hear a car pull up and see Alba with her gorgeous smile looking at you with worry. You wipe away tears and quickly get in her car. Alba didn’t even have to ask how your day was before you started rambling about everything that happened.

That evening, Alba stormed into Alexia’s apartment, her face flushed with anger. Alexia barely had time to process her arrival before Alba started speaking.

“What the fuck is your problem?” Alba demanded, her voice trembling. “Why can’t you just be happy for me?”

Alexia frowned, her defences immediately going up. “I’m trying to protect you.”

“From what?” Alba snapped. “From being happy? From falling in love?” Y/n isn’t some random fling, Alexia. She cares about me. She loves me.”

Alexia’s jaw tightened. “And what happens when it all goes wrong? When she leaves? Do you have any idea how hard it is to put yourself back together after someone breaks you?”

Alba’s expression softened slightly, but her voice remained firm. “I know you’re scared. I know you think you’re protecting me. But this isn’t about you. This is my life Alexia. And you’re pushing me away because you can’t let go”

Alexia closed her eyes, guilt washing over her. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I just…I don’t want to lose you.”

“You’re not going to lose me,” Alba said softly, sitting next to her sister. “But if you keep this up, you might lose both of us.”

The next day, Alexia approached you in the dressing room, her expression hesitant. The rest of the team had left already, leaving the two of them alone.

“I owe you an apology,” Alexia said, her voice quiet. “I’ve been unfair to you. To both of you.”

You looked at Alexia warily, unsure if this was a genuine truce or another fight waiting to happen. “Why now?”

Alexia sighed, running a hand through her hair. “Because Alba made me realise I’ve been holding onto my fears instead of trusting her. She’s happy with you, the happiest she’s been in a long time. And I don’t want to be the reason that changes.”

You nodded slowly, your shoulders relaxing for the first time in weeks. “I don’t want to come between you and Alba. I just want her to be happy. And I want us to work as a team.”

Alexia offered a small smile. “Then let’s try again. For her. For the team.”

Things didn’t change overnight, but the frost between you and Alexia began to thaw. Slowly, you both rebuilt your partnership on the pitch, learning to trust each other again.

Alba, meanwhile, was a constant source of light in your life. Her support and patience made the challenges worth it. Over time, even Alexia began to see the happiness you brought each other.

Slowly, piece by piece, they all began to rebuild what had been broken.

#womens soccer #woso soccer #woso #woso x reader #woso imagines #woso fanfics #alexia putellas x reader

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deonsx · 1 month ago

Note

Can u do one abt Sae Itoshi being a girl dad?🥹

AYAYYYA when I saw that I had to make this request immediately + Nagi and Rin are with you!

Bllk Boys If they become a girl father

Sae Itoshi

Sae wakes up early in the morning to help his daughter get ready for kindergarten. Normally calm and reserved, Sae doesn’t complain when his daughter insists on putting a “princess crown” on his head while he’s combing her hair. Seeing himself in the mirror wearing a pink crown, he smirks slightly and says:

“Doesn’t this make me too cool?” His daughter, with a serious expression responds “No Papa, it’s just perfect!”

On the way to school, his daughter bombards him with questions like, “What’s your favorite color, Papa?” Sae, instead of his usual short answers, takes a moment to think and says, “Maybe blue… but your favorite colors might be better”

Sweet Details:

Sae’s daughter proudly tells her friends, “My dad is the best football player in the world!” Even though Sae tries to stay composed, her admiration secretly makes him incredibly happy

While teaching his daughter how to play football, she somehow manages to dribble past him and score a goal. Sae quietly mumbles “Must be the genes” but deep down, he feels proud beyond words

His daughter loves drawing pictures for him. One day, Sae takes one of her drawings and puts it in his sports bag. Before an important match, he looks at it for motivation.

At night, Sae softly hums a traditional Japanese lullaby to his daughter as she falls asleep. It’s one of the few moments where his stoic exterior melts into pure warmth and love

Nagi Seishiro

Nagi plans to spend his weekend morning sleeping in, but he wakes up to his daughter poking his cheek with her tiny hands

“Daaaad! Wake up! We need to have breakfast and play!” she says with boundless energy. Nagi groans and mutters “Ugh… five more minutes…”

But when his daughter furrows her brows and sternly replies, “Five minutes? No way, now!” he can’t help but smile. “Alright, alright you win” he says, picking her up and carrying her on his shoulder as they head to the kitchen

Despite Nagi’s lazy tendencies, his daughter’s energy and demands always win him over. Sometimes, he even finds himself unexpectedly having fun while playing with her

Sweet Details:

Nagi’s daughter might be hyperactive, curious, and constantly looking for things to do. Although it clashes with his laid-back personality, Nagi learns to adapt and becomes more active because of her

Nagi’s idea of a “daddy-daughter day” often includes binge-watching cartoons, ordering pizza, and him trying (and failing) to braid her hair. While he’s not the best at hairstyling, he’ll do anything to make her laugh

Nagi easily gets drawn into her imaginative world. Whether it’s pretending to be a king, a monster, or a hero saving her, he goes along with it. Afterward, though, he’ll collapse on the couch and say “That was exhausting…”

His daughter loves to challenge her dad, saying things like “Let’s race! If I win, you have to buy me ice cream!” Nagi reluctantly agrees and usually lets her win. But sometimes, his competitive side sneaks in, and he plays seriously

Despite his lazy nature, Nagi is fiercely protective of his daughter. Just the thought of her getting hurt makes him unexpectedly serious and determined to keep her safe

Rin Itoshi

One evening, Rin comes home from training, exhausted. As he opens the door, he hears a small voice shout

“Daddyyyy!”

His daughter runs up to him with bright eyes and says, “Let’s play soccer Daddy!” Rin looks at her, a bit startled, and replies

“At this hour? You have school tomorrow, young lady.” But when she pouts, he sighs and gives in, saying “Fine, but only for five minutes”

Before he knows it, they’re out in the yard playing. She manages to dribble the ball and score between his legs. As she jumps and cheers, Rin smirks slightly and says,

“I guess we shouldn’t tell your mom we played this late”

Sweet Details:

Rin tries to be the “perfect dad” and takes everything very seriously. He wants to provide the best environment for his daughter. However, whenever she hugs him and says “You’re the best dad ever!” his stern exterior softens

Rin teaches his daughter how to play soccer but never pressures her. Instead, he encourages her to enjoy the game at her own pace. One day, when she pulls off a tricky move, he mutters to himself

“Must be the genes”

Rin is extremely protective of his daughter. If someone bothers her at school or hurts her feelings, Rin steps in immediately—though he tries to handle things calmly and rationally

At night, Rin often tells his daughter bedtime stories about famous soccer players. At the end of every story, she snuggles up to him and says “But you’re the best one Daddy” For Rin, it’s the highlight of his day

Princess not: Rin affectionately calls her “My Little Lion” because she’s just as determined and stubborn as he is

Enjoy!

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loveshotzz · 10 months ago

Text

18+

summary: The rainy night Steve asks you to move in with him.

wc: 1k

warnings: fem!reader, older!steve, age gap (steve is 43, reader is 30), p in v sex, cream pie, slightly subby begging steve, slight breeding kink, mentions of drinking at dinner.

This blurb belongs to my series All I Really Want Is You but can be read as a stand alone. Just missed my favorite old man 🥺

Steve’s forehead is pressed to yours, sweat dripping off that one strand that just won’t stay back with a love drunk stare that threatens to swallow you whole. You almost get lost in the gold that still shimmers in the darkness of his blown out eyes, freshly done nails digging half crescent moons into the constellations on his shoulder blades. Your knees sit on either side of his hips, sticky skin clinging to the brown leather of his couch making every bounce on his lap threaten to rub them raw, but you could care less. Not when he’s looking at you like this.

The rain hits the sliding glass door of his backyard, beige curtains drawn hiding you both from the two day rain storm that’s kept you away from your apartment and mostly in his bed. One of his arms loops around your waist, holding you close from the small of your back.

Chest to chest, his coarse hairs tickle the soft skin of your breasts, long fingers digging into the plush curve of your hip. A palm as warm as the electric fireplace behind you cups the back of your neck, the pad of his thumb rubbing circles against the sensitive spot behind your ear he likes to kiss every morning.

Spearmint and whiskey from the drinks you had at dinner fill the space between you with every breath that fans against your lips. Sweet nothings said with drunken abandon, noses bumping with every thrust, the length of him stretching you in a way that has your eyes roll in the back of your head every time he meets the roll of your hips.

“If you think I’m letting you resign that lease this summer,” he breathes, somehow pulling you even closer, making him go deeper, whispering a sweet ‘I know’ when you whine before finishing his thought, “you’re crazy honey.”

Thunder rumbles in the distance outside, your walls fluttering around him in a way that makes him twitch inside of you, eyebrows marrying together when your fingers find their way into the silver and chestnut hair that curls at the nape of his neck.

“Tryin’ to keep me all to yourself huh?” You tease, the liquid courage helping you stay calm at the realization of what he was implying. A conversation you’ve both tiptoed around when five nights a week sleepovers between places became a regular thing.

His top lip catches on your bottom, the corners of his mouth twitching in a smirk before he steals a kiss that has you chasing his tongue with yours letting him take control. The grip on your waist tightens, stopping your movements while the roll of his hips becomes pointed in your undoing.

”God, yes baby, please.” He moans, perfect teeth nipping at your bottom lip when you tug on his roots, the tip of him teasing the spot that has you gasping his name, “I want you every day, please.”

The thumb behind your ear applies just enough pressure for you to turn your head to the side, letting him kiss a sloppy trail up your jaw, whispering ‘please’ after each one. Loosening his hold enough for you to grind your hips, you meet his thrusts in a way that has the hair on his pelvic bone catch your clit with the perfect pressure over and over again.

”Oh my god, Steve.” You gasp, pulling at his hair hard enough for his lips to meet yours again. Something a little smug behind them.

“Yeah?” His hot breath makes you shudder as you find just the right rhythm.

“Feels s’good, you always make me fuck -“ the buildup you’ve already had three times today returns like its the first time all over again, lashes tickling the tops of your cheeks.

“I know honey, I can feel it, you can give it to me, you know I want it.” He hums against your lips, the tip of his tongue teasing yours.

The hand on your hip snakes between your thighs, the pad of his thumb finding your clit, rubbing the kind of messy circles that has your legs start to shake.

”Wanna make you cum every day, please.” Grunting when the roll of your hips makes his toes curl against the hardwood floor, he knows he’s not going to last much longer.

“Tell me you’re gonna let me baby.” Steve practically whines and all you can do is nod because even every day doesn’t seem like enough.

What’s longer than forever?

“Cum inside me,” you whine, “I want it, god, I need it.”

The groan that rumbles from his chest at your request is enough to rival the thunder that gets close enough to shake the house, and the band that wound up tight enough to snap finally does just that, your cunt giving him no choice but to listen to you as you fall apart on his lap.

“Anything - anything you want.” He pants against your open mouth, twitching against your fluttering walls before spilling everything that’s left of him inside of you. The blunt ends of his nails dig into your hip keeping you close so you have to take every last bit, one day hoping you’ll want it to stick.

#steve harrington #steve harrington smut #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x reader smut #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington x fem!reader #my writing #all i really want is you #older!steve harrington

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fanfictionismyaddiction · 2 months ago

Text

A Night to Remember

Word count: 733

Pairing: Lando Norris x reader

Summary: Lando and Y/n, are drunk on tequila

________________________________________________________

Lando Norris was buzzing. His grin was so wide it hurt his cheeks, but he didn’t care. He’d won. He’d won! The team could have thrown a parade, and he still wouldn’t have felt like it was enough to match the high he was riding. The club was packed, the music was deafening, and he was already three—no, four?—drinks in. But none of that mattered because there she was. Y/n. His Y/n.

She was twirling on the dance floor, her arms up, her laughter louder than the music as she tried to keep balance in her heels. A glass of something bright and bubbly sloshed in her hand, half-spilling onto her dress as she spun.

“Landooo!” she shouted when she spotted him, her voice slurring as she stumbled toward him. She threw her arms around his neck with such force that he had to grab her waist to keep them both upright. “You did it! You freaking won! I told you, I knew you’d do it, you brilliant, fast little shit.”

“Little?!” Lando protested, bursting into laughter as he steadied her. His words were slow, like his brain was trying to catch up with his tongue. “I’m taller than you, you drunk menace!”

She poked his chest with a finger, squinting at him. “Barely. Barely. And don’t get cocky with me, mister world champion or whatever.”

“I’m not the world champion,” Lando corrected, dragging her toward the bar, where more drinks were already waiting for them. “But I did win today. Did I tell you I won? Like, I actually won?”

“Only like a million times.” Y/n rolled her eyes but smiled, grabbing a shot and holding it up. “To the winner of everything forever!”

Lando grabbed his shot, clinking it against hers with too much force, spilling tequila over both their hands. “To me!” he shouted, and they downed the shots at the same time, both immediately grimacing and making identical gagging sounds.

“Why is tequila so disgusting?!” Y/n groaned, clutching her stomach.

“Because we’re not supposed to drink it!” Lando howled with laughter, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

Somehow, they ended up outside on the curb, the noise of the club muffled behind them. Lando was sprawled on the steps, his legs sticking out awkwardly, while Y/n sat beside him, her head tilted back to look at the stars—or what she thought were stars.

“Do you think…” she began, her words slow and drawn out, “that if I stole your trophy, anyone would notice?”

“Yes,” Lando said, leaning over to look at her with an exaggeratedly serious expression. “Because you’d be the worst thief. You’d get caught immediately. And also because it’s mine.”

“Rude,” Y/n huffed, poking his cheek. “I thought you loved me.”

Lando blinked at her, his drunk brain suddenly hyper-focused on her face. “I do love you.”

She stared at him for a moment, then burst into laughter. “You’re drunk.”

“So are you!” he shot back, pointing a finger at her that wobbled in the air. “But I still love you. Like… a lot. Like… more than I love McLaren. And that’s saying something!”

Y/n gasped, slapping her hands over her mouth. “You do not.”

“I do!” Lando insisted, his voice cracking like he was genuinely offended she doubted him. “You’re my favorite person, Y/n. Like, ever.”

Her eyes welled up, and she leaned forward, swaying slightly. “Lando… that’s so stupidly sweet. I love you, too. Like, so much. Like… more than tequila!”

“That’s not hard,” Lando said with a snort, but then he grabbed her face between his hands, squishing her cheeks. “But seriously. I love you. Like, love love.”

Y/n giggled, her voice muffled by the way her cheeks were smushed. “I love you love you, too, you dork.”

They leaned in for a kiss but missed entirely, their noses bumping awkwardly before Y/n tilted her head to the right angle. The kiss was messy and uncoordinated, but it felt perfect to them in their champagne-soaked, tequila-fueled haze.

When they finally broke apart, Y/n leaned her head against his shoulder, sighing contentedly. “You’re my favorite, Lando.”

“And you’re my everything,” Lando mumbled, his head drooping onto hers.

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comatosebunny09 · 6 months ago

Text

I can’t get this montage out of my head.

Of you and Sylus, bathed in the afterglow of sex, tucked away in some island far away where his “family” resides.

Cuddling, your cheek pressed to his chest, hands splayed at his back, a smile rounding your lips. And he runs lazy fingers up and down your spine, kissing the crown of your head and murmuring the sweetest things there. You’re both watching the sunset as waves crash onto the shore beyond the safety of your beach bungalow; the air is thick with fondness.

Fast forward a bit, and you’re bounding around your bungalow tidying up, Sylus’s shirt sliding off your shoulders, and you’re oblivious to everything outside your earphones. Don’t notice Sylus watching you over crossed arms, leaning against the kitchen island. He’s smiling because you’re adorable, and your cute ass cheeks are spilling out of the bottom of his shirt. And he can’t help himself as he embraces you from behind, exhaling into your hair.

“What are you listening to?” he says all low, swaying your bodies to an unheard song. Snags one of your earphones, and a woman’s melodious, husky croon fills his ear.

Cue the montage of said song transitioning from a dull buzz in the earphone to something full-blown. It plays as Sylus sweeps you away in a souped-up El Dorado, and you’re sitting on the headrest, the breeze blowing over your skin as you dance to your favorite song. And Sylus reaches over to squeeze your knee from the driver's side, the content flicker in his eye hidden behind his shades.

Next, you’re doing a little jig at a restaurant by the window because you’re eating something delicious. And you’re wearing a beautiful, simple dress that boasts your curves, and Sylus can’t keep his eyes off you. Chuckles as he reaches across the table to swipe some sauce off your chin. You lock eyes like magnets drawn to each other, and the air grows thick with passion as the musicians playing at the restaurant shift tempo.

And then, you’re on a shopping spree. In a fancy boutique, doing a little twirl for him in a dress he couldn’t live without you having. And he’s all smiles and lowered defenses, motioning for you to sit in his lap so he can hold you to him and kiss you silly.

Then, you’re at the beach as the sun sets. At a local market, being surrounded by kids begging you to buy their seashell necklaces. And you’re laughing all pretty because they’re all adorable, and you somehow end up roped into a game of soccer with them, playing along the surf.

And Sylus just sits back like, damn, I think I’m in love. And he’s happy for moments like this when you both can steal away, falling off the grid for a little while. He likes it when he has you to himself.

#sylus x reader #sylus x you #fuel for my delulu hours #i can’t get off the grid out of my head #sylus fluff #sylus romance #sylus imagine #might conjure this up soon #it’s so cheesy and disgusting and i’m sorry

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blueberrypancakesworld · 3 months ago

Text

I am yours and never ours

Caracalla x wife!reader

warning : Spoilers for Gladiator ii, hurt/comfort, kissing, implied mother issues, mention of violence, cuddling, no use of y/n

Summary : It was a mistake to kill the hero, to not give him the mercy he should have received. The riots a sign of overthrow and fall and entrenched in the palace the two brothers and Caracalla's wife, nerves are thin and after a forgetting of temper it seems only love can calm a frightened Caracalla to bring order to the situation.

info : omg the scene was so sad and tense, the bond between the two, i'm fully in my gladiator era. Have fun reading :)

masterlist

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

It had only taken a fraction of a moment, the sun had been right over the Colosseum, giving everyone a chance to get their bearings. Shouts of cheers, boos and cries mingled with the loud voice of Rome.

The emperors sitting impatiently on their chairs, the younger one screaming for death at last, the older one seeming to grow more agitated with every breath, and in the centre the weeping princess as the arrows pierced her beloved.

Justus Acacius was dead, unjustly killed despite the surrender of both fighters, a death that had the emperors rejoicing, but a death that only a few hours later at nightfall had the people roaring.

What at first was still disbelief and shock had become a popular uprising, at the latest with the tumult, the flames raging in the streets and the numerous courageous citizens.

The two brothers also became aware of the uprising and the royal family withdrew in disbelief and indignation to avoid being drawn into it.

Even the Sun of Rome, Caracalla's wife, could not reassure the people who loved her; they seemed to hate her as much as her husband and brother-in-law.

Looking out from behind the solid walls of the palace, she saw the metre-high flames, saw the angry crowd and the few troops of the emperors who could hardly do anything.

Gods have mercy on us she thought and took another sip from her glass as she heard more screams of death and moved away from the window, going back to her family but seeing only the same tension in Geta.

Rarely had she seen him like this if he didn't burst under the pressure at any moment so she was sure he would storm out himself, ,,There may be many but they don't have the weapons and courage of our troops" she said calmly and tried to pour Geta another glass but he turned away.

His gaze had barely noticed her so absorbed he seemed to be thinking about how he could save them all, ,,Ungrateful" he hissed as he looked out and saw nothing but treachery.

The silence in the palace was interrupted only by the footsteps of Macrinus, who withdrew in her presence, she did not trust him and he did not trust her, but her concern lay more with her beloved Caracalla.

She glanced at her husband, who was sitting on a lectus and feeding Dundus his little monkey to calm himself down somehow. However, he looked just as miserable as his brother, they both looked tired, exhausted and completely overwhelmed by everything.

She gave him a smile, trying to keep him amused, ,,You'll all see blood," Caracalla said, returning the smile - it was to be expected that he wanted a whole bloodlust. A betrayal hurts deeply.

Even if it hurt inside her, helplessness and fear had a grip on her too…only Dundus the monkey seemed happy as he let out another little screech when he got a grape.

A mistake.

All of a sudden all she could see was Geta hurrying around, ,,Get that annoying monkey out of here!" shouting at his brother and slapping the wine in his brother's face.

Startled, she gasped, calling out Geta's name in warning, his eyes filled with anger and remorse, she knew it was the situation, knew the tension but nothing would help.

As she hurried over to Caracalla and gently placed her hand on his shoulder, he looked more like a weeping dog than an emperor, ,,Come my king, we should feed Dundus somewhere else" she said, helping him up slightly and telling him to go ahead into the throne room.

She walked past Geta who just looked down shaking his head and cursing himself, he had taken it too far. ,,I'll be right back why don't you get us some wine Macrinus" she said and didn't bother because his fake smile told her all she needed to know as he disappeared and she sighed and hurried on her way.

Her footsteps echoed in the empty corridors and the throne room, Dundus shrieked and she heard the sniffle, ,,Love? My King Caracalla, where are you?" she asked quietly, swallowing down the lump rising in her throat as she thought back to the episodes he had already had.

She and Geta loved him but this madness would be the downfall of them all. She continued to walk around the room, first looking behind the throne where he sometimes hid, but he wasn't sitting there.

,,Caracalla? It's your sun, do you understand?" she asked and finally saw the blond head of hair peeking out from behind one of the curtains behind which he had curled up.

She heard his crying, the sniffling as he peeked out from behind it and she got down on her knees, ,,It's-It's all right, come here to me, you know who I am, don't you?" she continued to ask calmly, hiding the slight trembling in her hands under the fabric of her clothes as she saw the man she loved so fragile.

Slowly he emerged from his ‘hiding place’ and nodded cautiously as he crawled towards her, ,,You…you're my wife," he sniffled his words barely intelligible as Dundus continued to tote on his shoulders and the chain rattled.

Nodding hastily, she smiled slightly relieved that he at least recognised her, sitting in front of her probably not quite knowing what he wanted or needed, ,,You are mine" he seemed to understand instead as he placed his hand on hers and she didn't pull it away.

Yours, mine, ours words she had heard so often, she was his wife but our joy.

It's like a coin with two sides only one can come up and the other stays in the shadow, only the balance on the edge can go but with enormous precision or trust and love…something that was all the more difficult at such a time between the two brothers.

She nodded again and pulled him close, lying in her lap like a boy with his mother, his, ,,I'm yours," she assured him, carefully using the sleeve of her dress to wipe his face.

Mostly delusional, she quickly realised that he was like a small child who simply needed her mother, a woman who had died at an early age and she filled that role.

An initial squirming soon turned into an amused laugh as she wiped the wine from his face and at least he wasn't crying, ,,Tickled" he muttered and she couldn't help but smile bitterly, the delusion was a horror and a blessing in one.

Another coin.

Dundus played with the blond curls as Caracalla's fingers, which had been playing with each other before, slid to hers, ,,He's been hurting me since we were sin the womb, you're not his or ours…you're mine…like Rome should be mine," he suddenly said, gripping her tighter.

Blue eyes showed the fire of madness and she stroked his cheek, she knew the story of the womb, but she knew just as well that madness could be transmitted by whores, was it a lie or the truth?

Trying to stifle a shaky breath, she placed a kiss on his lips, tasting the wine, tasting sage and tasting blood, ,,You two are like the creators of Rome, two sides my love. But think what Geta has done for you, for me, for all of Rome…you are the king, Geta is the god and I am the sun," she reminded him of the story she had made up during one of his episodes.

Caracalla a king of honour who could have all the blood in the world, his brother the political god and she the sun who held them all together.

A story that made him pause, his memories shrouded in mist, he needed time while she continued to hold him gently and stroke his cheek, his grip on her hand tightening and softening, ,,Yes? Yes, I think so…I think so...despite the pain, I-I still have you" he slowly realised and sanity returned to his being.

As he cuddled up to her and laid his head in the crook of her neck and held her like that for a moment, tears in her eyes as she blinked them away and thanked the gods again that nothing bad had happened.

Caracalla's hand was also on her cheek and she saw the gold tooth as she smiled, ,,Thank you my sun" she heard him say before he pulled her into a kiss, finally back to her senses as he slowly pulled away from her and helped her stand up.

Despite the riots, despite Geta and despite the madness, the Emperor was still here, gently grasping her hand and once more locking her in a kiss, even if Rome fell they would not give up trying to help him out of this doom.

From the moment she had taken him as her husband, she knew that she would always be there for him and that Caracalla would never stop loving her. Because even in madness there was nothing stronger than love.

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

@potatoesenpaii , @rainbowbox , @thankyouperconte , @myromanempire81 , @k-yurieee

#gladiator ii #gladiator 2 #emperor caracalla #emperor caracalla x reader #fred hechinger #male x female #spoilers for gladiator ii #emperor geta #reader is female

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