#i am on my knees sobbing LOOK AT THEM
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spaceratprodigy · 1 year ago
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messy sketch but. them. :)
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@hibernationsuit — 💕💖💕💖🥺💖💕💖💕
HELLOOO??? I AM SQUEALING!! LOOK AT THEM!!!! I am on the floor sobbing rn hello my friend I love you with my whole heart!!!!!!!!
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jackkatzz · 5 months ago
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Sent my final letter to my boy today! Both exciting and sad ^^;;
Saddening because I have grown use to writing to him every week now.. it has become routine. It's comfortable, and I will miss it a little after he passes through his ceremony. (I may take to just writing him little notes and letters once we live together ^////^ no reason I have to stop being soft in written form :] )
BUT!! It is also VERY exciting because it means that the time is almost upon us that he will be done with training!! I must iron my dress shirt, pack my suitcase, and get ready to take a week off of work!! (and be anxious the entire time I'm gone because OOF my work is gonna be rough when I come back...)
However.. I will only get him for a short time in said week.. Then he is being sent off for schooling for his field of expertise for a full year in yet another state.. BUT!! He will have full communication again!! AND we'll be making the plans to get married!! (December maybe?? I must confirm this òwó) then it's MOVING TIME BAYBEEEE!!!
Again, contemplating opening a few commission slots, but I can only take one at a time with my current setup ^^;;
Exciting things on the horizon!
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soupis4ever · 1 year ago
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the ending of totk makes me want to ugly sob btw. not just because of the actual ending cutscenes but because of that final final boss. it's so swag it makes me want to scream and cry and break things
#totk spoilers#for the tags i am about to put#THE DEMON DRAGON. RRAAAAAAAUUUUGGGGHHHHHHH#but not even the demon dragon!! like obviously im on my knees sobbing at the demon dragon but its the fucking light dragon man#its seeing the dragons whip around and move so uncharacteristically fast and its the way the light dragon SCREAMS and AAAAHHHHHHHH#dragons make my autism levels reach critical. gof#I LOVE DRAGONS I LOVE THEM IM LOSING MY MARBLES#and the way their eyes change as they swallow the stone. and the way the demon dragon isnt fully formed straight away.#and the way the light dragon whips around and GLOWS and WAAAAHHHHHHHH and the NOISES THEY MAKE#THE WAY THE DEMON DRAGON PINS LINK IN ITS TEETH. THE WAY THESE NORMALLY PEACEFUL ASS CREATURES ONLY EVER HARM HIM ENVIRONMENTALLY#LIKE HOW FAROSH SPITS OUT ELECTRICITY THAT OCCASIONALLY SHOCKS LINK. AND THE DEMON DRAGON ACTIVELY ATTACKS HIM#AND HOW THE LIGHT DRAGON GOES OUT OF ITS WAY TO PROTECT HIM#EVEN THOUGH ITS NOT GANONDORF OR ZELDA ANYMORE#being able to steer the light dragon... the way it rushes in to catch link when the demon dragon drops him. the way it screams#THE NOISES#and they move so fast and the sun sets and its a blood moon and the light dragon is this fucking beacon of white and gold and (sobbing)#and its the way the demon dragon is so so so much bigger than link and the light dragon#and its the way they fight it anyway#i want to sob. i want to scream and cry. i want to weep endlessly#and theyre SO COOL LOOKING#the demon dragon GLOWS with gloom and malice and its red and shining and charcoal black#and the light dragon is the exact opposite. blue and golden and glowing with LIGHT and oh my god shes a silent princess im gonna scream#BRO...#i am unwell
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stunie · 5 months ago
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i just WOKE UP !!?????!!!!!!
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2024.07.15 — dinner date with Ume. ♡
(hands up if you know where the reference photo’s froooommmmm!!!! >:3 aju nice.)
#art!#you @ed me as if my ume senses weren’t already tingling. is this why i kept stirring in my sleep? there’s a disturbance in the air. and thi#so this is the culprit. how was i supposed to not feel the change in atmosphere ???#☆ミ umemiya.#WHY IS HE SMILING LIKE THAT /pos (compliment) LOOK AT HIS MOUTH HE IS SO KISSABLE ? HIS LIPS ???? BIBI .#AND LOOK AT HIS PRETTY EYES BIBI YOU ALWAYS DO THIS (compliment) LIKE U GIVE HIM HIS LIL DROOPY PUPPY EYES BUT U DO IT IN A WAY WHERE HE#LOOKS SO DREAMY AND SOFT. HIS EYES R SO FUCKING PRETTY. WTF. AND YOU GAVE HIM HIS GLASSES . and what if i can’t finish using my tags becaus#because i have EXPLODED. erupted like a volcano. yk star deaths ? that’s me. i did. i’m no more! goodbye to what remains of zevie#this is my ghost speaking bc i need to finish my tags here. look at the fuckinnnngggg muuuscles bibi drew.#do you see his bulging tricep. god i love men w huge ass triceps sm I LOVE THEN. and look at his bicep. i know all of you see that bicep#vein better than me !! better than me bc i’m not wearing contacts or glasses now. straight up outa bed and im hit with this !! can you belie#believe bibi (affectionate) bc i cannot !! LOOK AT THE VEINS SHE GAVE HIM …. not even just one biceps they are also ….#on his forearms . do yk what it means . yk when his fingers r inside u and they curl. the forearm muscle bulges and u can see the vein#protruding more . bonus if he’s sweaty and the muscle is just glistening. WOW! okay. moving on. LOOK AT HIS BOOBS. U CAN SEE THEM PEEKING#THROUGH THE SHIRT. THATS HOW BIG THEY ARE. see how they bulge bc of how his arm is pressing against it? CRIMINAL. me and all my ume girlies#are on our way to bury on our faces in them. HUGE pillows btw . ok moving on. LETS TALK ABOUT HIS HAIR . his hair. it’s up yeah? but it’s#messy like in his fight with choji. the best hair ever. he is actually so soft and so fluffy. his hair looks like fresh snow . he is#absolutely everything to me !! literally unreal. absolutely ethereal. an angel. WOW.#i want to talk about his shirt. and the fact that he wears white tees at bofurin simply bc someone told#him it looks good. what a cutie. he would wear anything if you asked him sweetly enough. ‘oh you think i’ll look good?’#ANYWAYS HIS SHIRT HERE … THE WAY HIS MUSCLES R LIKE BULGING AGAINST IT IM SO NOT OKAY >: AND NOW IM LOOKING AT HIS NECK#i want to cover him in bites fr . look at how COMFY the area between his neck / shoulder is ??? BURY UR FACE RIGHT THERE.#bibi !!! you never cease to amaze me . bc the sketch had me falling to my knees and crying (see pictures for references) and this finished#one …… i’m really not okay (positive) i am really . really not okay!!!#please he looks so cute >: IM TAKING YIU HOME UME . YOURE COMING WITH ME . today i will be the one giving you a piggy back ride#get those pretty arms wrapped around me STAT. bibi i’m sobbing the artist / writer / person that you are (compliment)#i have no idea how i’m gonna recover from this . maybe i should go back to sleep and wake up because no way this is reality. this isn’t real#and i am just dreaming right now. bibi never showed me this at all. bibi never drew this at all. it’s not real. go back to sleep zevie … le#let’s just go back to sleep …. don’t think about it. don’t think about how pretty he is …. oh no no …. yeah let’s get under the covers …#goodnight everybody !!!!!! i say this fully aware that this will (affectionately) haunt me in my sleep for the rest of the week
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pucksandpower · 2 months ago
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Little Star
Max Verstappen x Leclerc!Reader
Summary: you’ve grown used to being overshadowed by your older brother, merely a distant star that seems dull in comparison to the sun of Maranello … and then Max happens
Based on this request
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The sun dips low on the horizon, casting long shadows across the paddock of the Autodromo Nazionale Monza. The air still buzzes with excitement from the day’s race, but behind the Ferrari hospitality unit, a different energy permeates the air.
You lean against the cool metal wall, sliding down until you’re sitting on the concrete, knees pulled to your chest. Tears stream silently down your face as you struggle to catch your breath between sobs. The sounds of celebration echo in the distance, a stark contrast to your solitude.
Footsteps approach, and you hastily wipe at your eyes, hoping to erase any evidence of your breakdown. A familiar figure rounds the corner, stopping short when he spots you.
“Hey,” Max Verstappen says, his brow furrowing with concern. “Are you alright?”
You force a smile, but it doesn’t reach your eyes. “I’m fine,” you insist, your voice wavering slightly. “Just ... needed some air.”
Max doesn’t buy it for a second. He crouches down beside you, his blue eyes searching your face. “You don’t look fine,” he says gently. “What’s going on?”
You bite your lip, debating whether to confide in him. After a moment, you sigh. “It’s stupid,” you mumble.
“If it’s making you cry, it’s not stupid,” Max counters. He settles down next to you, his shoulder brushing yours. “Come on, talk to me.”
You take a shaky breath. “It’s my birthday,” you admit quietly.
Max’s eyebrows shoot up. “Today? Why aren’t you celebrating?”
A bitter laugh escapes your lips. “Because everyone forgot,” you explain, fresh tears welling up. “Charles won the race, and ... I’m happy for him, I really am. But it’s like I don’t even exist when he’s around, you know?”
Max nods slowly, understanding dawning on his face. “That must be really tough,” he says softly.
You nod, sniffling. “I’ve always felt like I was in his shadow, but today ... it just hit me harder, I guess. Even my mom forgot.”
“That’s not okay,” Max says firmly. “Your birthday should be special, no matter what else is happening.”
You shrug, picking at a loose thread on your jeans. “It’s fine. I’m used to it.”
“No, it’s not fine,” Max insists. He stands up suddenly, determination etched on his face. “Wait here. I’ll be right back.”
Before you can protest, he’s gone, jogging away towards the paddock. You’re left alone again, wondering what he’s up to.
True to his word, Max returns a few minutes later, slightly out of breath and holding something behind his back. “Close your eyes,” he instructs with a grin.
Curious, you comply. There’s a rustling sound, and then Max’s voice rings out, clear and slightly off-key: “Happy birthday to you ...”
Your eyes fly open in surprise. Max stands before you, holding a small cupcake with a single candle stuck in the frosting. His face is illuminated by the flickering flame as he continues to sing.
“Happy birthday to you, happy birthday dear Y/N, happy birthday to you!”
Emotion wells up in your chest, a lump forming in your throat. “Max,” you whisper, overwhelmed. “You didn’t have to do this.”
He crouches down, carefully balancing the cupcake. “Of course I did,” he says softly. “Everyone deserves to feel special on their birthday. Now make a wish and blow out your candle.”
You close your eyes, thinking for a moment before leaning forward to extinguish the tiny flame. When you open them again, Max is beaming at you.
“What did you wish for?” He asks, settling back down beside you and offering you the cupcake.
You shake your head, a small smile tugging at your lips. “Can’t tell you, or it won’t come true.”
Max laughs, nudging your shoulder playfully. “Fair enough. So, twenty-two, huh? How does it feel to be so old?”
You roll your eyes, but can’t help chuckling. “Says the guy who’s practically ancient at twenty-six.”
“Hey!” Max protests, feigning offense. “I’ll have you know I’m in my prime.”
The banter feels natural, and you find yourself relaxing for the first time all day. You take a bite of the cupcake, savoring the sweetness. “This is really good,” you mumble around a mouthful of frosting. “Where did you even find it?”
Max grins mischievously. “I have my sources. Can’t reveal all my secrets, can I?”
You laugh, shaking your head. “Thank you, Max. Really. This ... it means a lot.”
His expression softens. “You’re welcome. I’m sorry the rest of your family forgot. That’s not fair to you.”
You sigh, your momentary happiness fading slightly. “It’s not their fault. Charles had a big win today, and-”
“Stop,” Max interrupts gently. “You don’t have to make excuses for them. Your feelings are valid.”
You blink, surprised by his directness. “I ... I guess I’m just used to it,” you admit. “It’s always been about Charles. Even before he got into F1, he was the golden child. I love him, don’t get me wrong, but sometimes ...”
“Sometimes you want to be seen too,” Max finishes for you. You nod, grateful that he understands.
“Exactly. And it’s not just Charles. Arthur’s always been following in his footsteps, and Lorenzo ... well, he’s the oldest. I’m just ... there.”
Max frowns. “That’s not true. You’re your own person, with your own talents and dreams. Have you talked to them about how you feel?”
You shake your head. “I don’t want to make them feel bad. Especially Charles. He works so hard, and he deserves his success.”
“His success doesn’t diminish your worth,” Max says firmly. “You deserve to be celebrated too.”
Tears prick at your eyes again, but for a different reason this time. “Thank you,” you whisper. “I don’t think anyone’s ever put it quite like that before.”
Max smiles softly. “Well, it’s true. And for what it’s worth, I think you’re pretty amazing.”
A blush creeps up your cheeks. “You barely know me,” you point out.
“I know enough,” Max counters. “I know you’re kind enough to put your family’s happiness before your own. I know you’re strong enough to handle being overlooked without becoming bitter. And I know you’ve got a great taste in cupcakes.”
You laugh, the sound bubbling up from deep in your chest. “Well, when you put it like that ...”
Max grins, clearly pleased to have made you smile. “So, birthday girl, what do you want to do now? The night is young, and I happen to know where they keep the good champagne around here.”
You hesitate, glancing towards the paddock where you can still hear the sounds of celebration. “I don’t know ... I should probably go find my family.”
Max raises an eyebrow. “On your birthday? Come on, live a little. They can wait.”
A spark of rebellion ignites in your chest. “You know what? You’re right. Let’s do it.”
Max jumps to his feet, offering you his hand. “That’s the spirit! First stop, champagne. Then, who knows? Maybe we’ll steal a golf cart and go joyriding around the track.”
You take his hand, allowing him to pull you up. “Is that even allowed?”
Max’s eyes twinkle with mischief. “Probably not. But it’s your birthday, so I think we can bend the rules a little.”
As you follow Max towards the paddock, a warmth spreads through your chest that has nothing to do with the lingering summer heat. For the first time in years, you feel seen. Appreciated. Special.
“Hey, Max?” You say, causing him to pause and look back at you.
“Yeah?”
You smile, genuine and bright. “Thank you. For everything.”
Max’s expression softens. “Anytime,” he says softly. “Now come on, birthday girl. Let’s make this a night to remember.”
As you walk side by side into the fading light, you can’t help but feel that this birthday might just be the start of something new. Something exciting. Something uniquely yours.
And for once, you’re not thinking about Charles, or Arthur, or anyone else. You’re just thinking about you, and the possibilities that stretch out before you like an open road.
Happy birthday indeed.
***
The Ferrari hospitality suite thrums with energy, laughter and music spilling out into the warm Italian night. Charles Leclerc stands at the center of it all, a wide grin plastered across his face as he basks in the glow of his hard-fought victory. Champagne flows freely, and the air is thick with the scent of celebration.
“To Charles!” Someone shouts, raising a glass. The room erupts in cheers, and Charles feels a swell of pride in his chest.
“Speech! Speech!” The crowd chants, and Charles laughs, holding up his hands in mock surrender.
“Alright, alright,” he concedes, clearing his throat. “I just want to say thank you to everyone here. This win ... it’s not just mine. It’s ours. The team, the mechanics, the engineers, the strategists ... we did this together.”
More cheers erupt, and Charles feels a hand clap him on the back. He turns to see his teammate grinning broadly.
“Well said, amigo,” Carlos says, slinging an arm around Charles’ shoulders. “You drove like a champion today.”
Charles beams, the praise from his teammate adding to the euphoria of the moment. “Thanks, Carlos. Couldn’t have done it without you pushing me.”
Carlos laughs, taking a swig of his drink. “Always happy to provide motivation. Oh, hey, before I forget — can you pass on my birthday wishes to Y/N? I meant to find her earlier, but things got a bit crazy.”
The words hit Charles like a bucket of ice water. His smile freezes, his eyes widening in horror. “W-what?” He stammers, hoping he’s misheard.
Carlos frowns, noticing the sudden change in Charles’ demeanor. “Your sister? It’s her birthday today, right? Her 22nd?”
Charles feels the room spin around him. How could he have forgotten? His little sister’s birthday, on the same day as his big win. The realization crashes over him in waves of guilt and shame.
“Charles?” Carlos prompts, concern evident in his voice. “You okay, mate?”
Charles shakes his head, trying to clear the fog of shock. “I ... I forgot,” he whispers, more to himself than to Carlos. “How could I forget?”
Carlos’ eyes widen in understanding. “Oh, shit,” he mutters. “You didn’t remember?”
Charles runs a hand through his hair, panic rising in his chest. “I was so focused on the race, and then the win ... God, I’m such an idiot.”
He scans the room frantically, hoping against hope that he’ll spot you among the partygoers. But of course, you’re not there. Why would you be, when your own family forgot your birthday?
“I need to find her,” Charles says, already moving towards the exit. “I need to apologize.”
Carlos nods, squeezing Charles’ shoulder supportively. “Go. I’ll cover for you here if anyone asks.”
Charles barely hears him, his mind racing as he pushes through the crowd. He bursts out of the hospitality suite, the cool night air a stark contrast to the stuffy interior.
“Y/N!” He calls out, his voice echoing in the near-empty paddock. But there’s no response.
Panic rising, Charles pulls out his phone, fumbling with the screen as he opens his contacts. He hits your name, holding the phone to his ear as it rings.
Once. Twice. Three times. Then, your voicemail.
“Hey, this is Y/N. Leave a message!”
Charles swears under his breath, ending the call. He tries again, and again, but each time it goes straight to voicemail.
“Come on, come on,” he mutters, pacing back and forth. Where could you be? Who would you have gone to when your family let you down?
A thought strikes him, and he quickly dials another number.
“Hello?” Arthur’s sleepy voice answers.
“Arthur!” Charles practically shouts. “Is Y/N with you?”
There’s a pause, then confusion in Arthur’s tone. “No? Why would she be? Aren’t you guys celebrating?”
Charles feels his heart sink even further. “Arthur, it’s her birthday. We forgot.”
“Shit,” Arthur breathes. “How did we ... God, we’re terrible brothers.”
“I know, I know,” Charles says, the guilt eating away at him. “I’m trying to find her now. Can you call Maman and Lorenzo, see if they’ve heard from her?”
“Yeah, of course,” Arthur agrees quickly. “I’ll call you back if I hear anything.”
Charles ends the call, his mind whirling. Where else could you be? He tries to think back to earlier in the day, wondering if he’d seen you at all after the race. But everything is a blur of champagne and celebration, and he realizes with a sickening jolt that he can’t remember the last time he actually spoke to you.
He’s about to start knocking on motorhome doors when another idea strikes him. Quickly, he opens the Life360 app on his phone. The family had started using it a few years back, mainly to keep track of each other during race weekends.
Charles waits impatiently for the app to load, praying that it will show your location. But when the map finally appears, his heart sinks. Your icon is greyed out, with a message underneath: “Location permissions turned off.”
“No, no, no,” Charles mutters, refreshing the app desperately. But the result is the same. You’ve deliberately turned off your location tracking.
The realization hits him like a punch to the gut. You didn’t just disappear — you chose to be unfindable. And it’s all his fault.
Charles slumps against the nearest wall, sliding down until he’s sitting on the ground. He puts his head in his hands, overwhelmed by the magnitude of his mistake.
“I’m so sorry, Y/N,” he whispers into the night. “I’m so, so sorry.”
As he sits there, memories flood his mind. Your proud smile when he won his first karting race. The way you’d curl up next to him during thunderstorms, seeking comfort. Your unwavering support through every step of his career, even when it meant less attention for you.
And how had he repaid that loyalty? By forgetting the one day that was supposed to be about you.
Charles’ phone buzzes, and he snatches it up eagerly. But it’s just a text from his mother:
Haven’t heard from Y/N. Is everything okay?
He stares at the message, unsure how to respond. How can he explain that he’s lost his little sister on her birthday?
Another text comes through, this time from Lorenzo:
No luck here either. What’s going on?
Charles takes a deep breath, steeling himself. He has to tell them the truth, no matter how much it hurts.
He creates a group chat with his mom, Lorenzo, and Arthur, his fingers shaking slightly as he types:
We forgot Y/N’s birthday. All of us. She’s not answering her phone and her location is turned off. I can’t find her anywhere.
The responses come in rapid succession:
Maman: Oh no. How could we forget?
Lorenzo: Shit. Have you checked with her friends?
Arthur: I’m on my way to the track now. We’ll find her.
Charles feels a mix of relief and shame. At least now everyone knows, and they can all work together to make things right. But the fact remains that they let you down in the first place.
He’s about to reply when he spots a familiar figure walking across the paddock. Max Verstappen, looking slightly disheveled and ... was that a touch of glitter on his cheek?
Without thinking, Charles jumps to his feet and runs over to his rival.
“Max!” He calls out, slightly out of breath. “Have you seen Y/N?”
Max turns, surprise evident on his face. Then, something else flickers in his eyes. Anger? Disappointment? It’s gone too quickly for Charles to be sure.
“Why?” Max asks, his tone cooler than usual. “Suddenly remembered she exists?”
The words sting, but Charles knows he deserves them. “Please, Max. I know I messed up. We all did. But I need to find her, to apologize.”
Max studies him for a long moment, as if weighing his options. Finally, he sighs. “She’s safe. That’s all you need to know right now.”
Relief washes over Charles, quickly followed by confusion. “You’ve seen her? Where is she?”
“I’m not telling you that,” Max says firmly. “She needed space, and after what happened, I don’t blame her.”
Charles feels a flare of frustration. “She’s my sister. I have a right to know where she is.”
“No,” Max counters, his blue eyes flashing. “You had a responsibility to remember her birthday. You didn’t. So now, you don’t get to demand anything.”
The words hit Charles like a slap. He opens his mouth to argue, then closes it again. Max is right, as much as it pains him to admit it.
“Is she ... is she okay?” Charles asks quietly, all fight leaving him.
Max’s expression softens slightly. “She will be. Eventually. But Charles, you really hurt her. All of you did.”
Charles nods, swallowing hard against the lump in his throat. “I know. God, I know. I just want to make it right.”
“Then give her time,” Max advises. “And when she’s ready to talk, really listen to her. Don’t make excuses. Don’t try to justify it. Just listen.”
Charles nods again, feeling utterly defeated. “Will you ... will you tell her I’m sorry? That we’re all sorry?”
Max hesitates, then nods. “I will. But Charles? You need to do better. She deserves better.”
With that, Max turns and walks away, leaving Charles alone with his thoughts and regrets.
Charles pulls out his phone again, looking at the group chat with his family. He types out a message, his heart heavy:
Y/N is safe. A friend is looking out for her. We need to give her space, but when she’s ready to talk, we all need to be there. Really be there. We’ve got a lot to make up for.
As he hits send, Charles makes a silent promise to himself and to you. He’ll do better. He’ll be the brother you deserve. And somehow, someway, he’ll make this right.
But for now, all he can do is wait, and hope that you’ll find it in your heart to forgive them all.
***
The city lights twinkle below as Max leads you into his penthouse suite, the door clicking shut behind you. The space is modern and sleek, with floor-to-ceiling windows offering a breathtaking view of Milan’s skyline.
“Make yourself at home,” Max says, gesturing around the room. “Are you hungry? I can order some room service if you want.”
You shake your head, still feeling slightly overwhelmed by the events of the day. “No, thanks. I’m okay.”
Max nods, studying your face with concern. “You sure? It’s been a long day.”
A small smile tugs at your lips. “Yeah, you could say that again.”
There’s a moment of awkward silence before Max clears his throat. “So, um, you can take the bed. I’ll crash on the couch.”
“Oh, no,” you protest immediately. “I can’t kick you out of your own bed. I’ll take the couch.”
Max shakes his head firmly. “Absolutely not. It’s your birthday. You get the bed.”
You bite your lip, an idea forming. “We could ... share? I mean, if that’s okay with you. The bed looks plenty big enough.”
Max’s eyes widen slightly, a faint blush creeping up his neck. “Are you sure? I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”
“I’m sure,” you say, surprising yourself with your boldness. “Unless it makes you uncomfortable?”
“No, no,” Max says quickly. “I’m fine with it if you are.”
You nod, and another silence falls. Max runs a hand through his hair, looking suddenly unsure of himself.
“Do you want to watch a movie or something?” he suggests. “Or we could just talk, if you prefer.”
“Talking sounds nice,” you admit. “I’m not really in the mood for a movie.”
Max nods, gesturing towards the bed. “Shall we?”
You both settle onto the massive king-size bed, sitting cross-legged and facing each other. It’s oddly intimate, and you feel a flutter of nerves in your stomach.
“So,” Max begins, his blue eyes fixed on you. “Tell me something about yourself that isn’t related to racing or your family.”
You pause, caught off guard by the question. It’s been so long since someone asked about you, just you.
“Well,” you start hesitantly, “I’m actually studying to become an astrophysicist.”
Max’s eyebrows shoot up. “Seriously? That’s incredible! Why astrophysics?”
The enthusiasm in his voice makes you smile. “I’ve always been fascinated by space, you know? The idea that there’s so much out there we don’t understand ... it’s exciting.”
“That’s amazing,” Max says, genuinely impressed. “What kind of stuff are you studying right now?”
You laugh softly. “Are you sure you want to know? I might bore you with all the technical details.”
Max leans forward, his expression earnest. “Try me. I want to hear all about it.”
Encouraged by his interest, you begin to explain your current research project. As you talk, your hands move animatedly, your eyes lighting up with passion. Max listens intently, asking questions and showing genuine curiosity.
“... and that’s why understanding dark matter is so crucial,” you finish, slightly out of breath. “Sorry, I kind of went off on a tangent there.”
Max shakes his head, smiling warmly. “Don’t apologize. It’s fascinating. I had no idea you were into all this. Why haven’t I heard about it before?”
Your smile falters slightly. “Oh, well ... it doesn’t really come up much. Everyone’s usually more interested in talking about racing.”
Max frowns. “But this is incredible. You’re studying to unravel the mysteries of the universe. That’s way cooler than driving in circles.”
You laugh, but there’s a hint of sadness in it. “Try telling that to my family. I think they see it as more of a hobby than a career path.”
“What?” Max looks genuinely shocked. “How can they not be incredibly proud? This is huge!”
You shrug, picking at a loose thread on the comforter. “I guess it’s just not as exciting as F1? It’s okay, though. I’m used to it.”
Max shakes his head firmly. “No, it’s not okay. Y/N, you’re brilliant. Your family should be shouting it from the rooftops.”
Tears prick at your eyes, and you blink them back hastily. “Thanks, Max. That ... that means a lot.”
He reaches out, hesitating for a moment before placing his hand over yours. “I mean it. And for what it’s worth, I think what you’re doing is incredible.”
You look up, meeting his gaze. There’s a warmth there, an understanding that makes your heart skip a beat. Without really thinking about it, you shift closer to him.
Max seems to take this as an invitation, because he moves closer too. Soon, you’re sitting side by side, your shoulders touching.
“So,” you say, trying to lighten the mood. “What about you? Any secret passions outside of racing?”
Max chuckles. “Nothing as impressive as astrophysics, I’m afraid. But I do enjoy sim racing in my spare time.”
You raise an eyebrow. “Isn’t that just more racing?”
“Hey, it’s completely different,” Max protests with a grin. “In sim racing, I can drive any car on any track. Even ones that don’t exist in real life.”
“Okay, okay,” you concede, laughing. “Tell me more about it.”
As Max launches into an explanation of his favorite sim racing setups, you find yourself relaxing more and more. The conversation flows easily, punctuated by laughter and playful debates.
Without really noticing, you both shift positions throughout the night. Max leans back against the headboard, and you mirror him. Your shoulders are pressed together, and you can feel the warmth radiating from his body.
“... and that’s why I think pineapple absolutely belongs on pizza,” Max finishes, looking at you expectantly.
You shake your head, grinning. “I can’t believe I’m hearing this from a world champion. Your taste buds clearly can’t be trusted.”
“Oh, come on,” Max laughs, nudging your shoulder with his. “Don’t knock it till you’ve tried it.”
“I have tried it,” you insist. “It’s an abomination.”
Max clutches his chest in mock offense. “You wound me, Y/N. And here I thought we were becoming friends.”
The word ‘friends’ sends an odd pang through your chest. Is that what this is? It feels like more, somehow.
As if reading your thoughts, Max’s expression softens. He reaches out, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. The gesture is so gentle, so intimate, that it takes your breath away.
“Y/N,” he says softly. “I’m really glad you’re here.”
You swallow hard, your heart racing. “Me too,” you whisper.
There’s a moment of charged silence, and then Max is leaning in. You meet him halfway, your lips meeting in a soft, tentative kiss.
It’s brief, just a fleeting press of lips, but it sends sparks shooting through your entire body. When you pull back, Max is looking at you with a mixture of wonder and uncertainty.
“Was that okay?” He asks, his voice husky.
You nod, not trusting yourself to speak. Instead, you lean in again, capturing his lips in another kiss. This one is deeper, more assured. Max’s hand comes up to cup your cheek, and you melt into his touch.
When you finally break apart, you’re both slightly breathless. Max rests his forehead against yours, a smile playing at his lips.
“I’ve wanted to do that all night,” he admits.
You laugh softly. “Even when I was insulting your pizza preferences?”
“Especially then,” Max grins. “You’re cute when you’re indignant.”
You swat at his arm playfully, but you can’t keep the smile off your face. For the first time all day, you feel truly happy.
As the night wears on, you and Max continue to talk, trading stories and stealing kisses. Gradually, your positions shift again. Max lies down, and you curl up against his side, your head resting on his chest. His arm wraps around you, holding you close.
“Y/N?” Max says softly, his fingers tracing patterns on your arm.
“Hmm?” you mumble, feeling drowsy and content.
“Happy birthday,” he says. “I know it didn’t start out great, but I hope it got better.”
You tilt your head up to look at him, a warm smile spreading across your face. “It did,” you assure him. “Thanks to you.”
Max kisses your forehead gently. “Get some sleep,” he murmurs. “We can figure everything else out in the morning.”
As you drift off to sleep, wrapped in Max’s arms, you can’t help but think that maybe, just maybe, this birthday wasn’t so bad after all. In fact, it might just be the start of something wonderful.
***
The early morning sunlight filters through the curtains, casting a warm glow across the room. You stir slowly, awareness creeping in as you feel a strong arm wrapped around your waist. For a moment, confusion sets in before the events of the previous night come rushing back.
You’re in Max Verstappen’s bed. And Max Verstappen is currently spooning you.
A smile tugs at your lips as you nestle back into his warmth, not quite ready to face the day. But fate, it seems, has other plans.
A sharp knock at the door jolts both of you awake. Max groans, burying his face in your hair.
“Room service?” You mumble, still half-asleep.
Max shakes his head, his voice gravelly with sleep. “Didn’t order any.”
The knock comes again, more insistent this time. With a sigh, Max untangles himself from you and slides out of bed.
“I’ll get it,” he says, running a hand through his disheveled hair. “You stay here.”
You nod, pulling the covers up to your chin and watching as Max pads to the door in his t-shirt and sweatpants. He opens it a crack, peering out.
“Can I help you?” He asks, confusion evident in his tone.
There’s a muffled response, and then Max is stepping back, opening the door wider. A hotel staff member enters, carrying an enormous bouquet of red roses.
“Delivery for Y/N Leclerc,” the staff member announces, looking around the room.
You sit up in bed, eyes wide. “That’s ... that’s me.”
The staff member nods, moving to set the bouquet on a nearby table. “Sign here, please,” he says, holding out a clipboard.
Still bewildered, you climb out of bed and make your way over, scrawling your signature on the form. The staff member thanks you and exits, leaving you and Max staring at the ostentatious display of flowers.
“Well,” Max says after a moment, “I guess your brother remembered after all.”
You let out a rueful laugh, shaking your head. “Yeah, I guess he did.”
Max frowns, noting the lack of enthusiasm in your voice. “Aren’t you happy about it?”
You sigh, reaching out to touch one of the velvety petals. “It’s just ... I’ve told Charles a hundred times that I don’t like roses. They’re not my favorite flower. But every time he needs to apologize or wants to do something nice, it’s always roses.”
“Oh,” Max says softly, understanding dawning on his face. “So it’s less about you and more about what he thinks you should like.”
You nod, a lump forming in your throat. “Exactly. It’s like he doesn’t really listen, you know? He just does what he thinks is right without considering what I actually want.”
Max moves closer, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you against his side. “That must be frustrating,” he says gently.
You lean into him, grateful for the support. “It is. And I know I should be grateful. It’s a beautiful bouquet, and he’s trying. But ...”
“But it’s not what you want,” Max finishes for you. “And that matters.”
You look up at him, surprised by how well he understands. “Yeah, exactly.”
Max turns to face you fully, his blue eyes serious. “Y/N, listen to me. It’s okay to be upset about this. It’s okay to want your family to actually listen to you and consider your feelings.”
You bite your lip, tears threatening to spill over. “But they’re trying now. Shouldn’t I just forgive them and move on?”
Max shakes his head firmly. “No. You don’t have to forgive them right away just because they made a grand gesture. It’s okay to make them work for your forgiveness.”
“Really?” You ask, your voice small.
“Really,” Max assures you. “They hurt you, Y/N. They forgot your birthday and made you feel invisible. One bouquet of flowers — flowers you don’t even like — doesn’t erase that.”
You nod slowly, processing his words. “So what do I do?”
Max runs a hand through his hair, thinking. “Well, what do you want to do? How do you feel?”
You take a deep breath, considering. “Honestly? I’m not ready to see them yet. I know I’ll have to face them eventually, but right now ... I just can’t.”
“Then don’t,” Max says simply. “Take the time you need. They can wait.”
A weight lifts off your shoulders at his words. “You don’t think that’s selfish?”
Max cups your face in his hands, his gaze intense. “It’s not selfish to prioritize your own feelings and well-being. You matter, Y/N. Your feelings matter.”
Tears spill over then, and Max pulls you into a tight embrace. You bury your face in his chest, letting out all the hurt and frustration you’ve been holding in.
“Shh,” Max soothes, rubbing your back. “It’s okay. Let it out.”
After a few minutes, your sobs subside. You pull back slightly, wiping at your eyes. “Sorry,” you mumble. “I got your shirt all wet.”
Max chuckles, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “I think I’ll survive. Feel better?”
You nod, offering him a watery smile. “Yeah, actually. Thanks.”
“Anytime,” Max says softly. Then, a mischievous glint enters his eye. “So, what should we do with the roses? I vote we throw them off the balcony and watch them scatter in the wind.”
You laugh, the sound bubbling up from deep in your chest. “As tempting as that is, I don’t think hotel management would appreciate it.”
Max shrugs, grinning. “Their loss. We could always donate them to a hospital or something. Brighten someone else’s day.”
“That’s ... actually a really good idea,” you say, impressed. “We could do that.”
Max beams, clearly pleased with himself. “See? I’m not just a pretty face and fast driver.”
You roll your eyes fondly, but can’t suppress your smile. “Careful, Verstappen. Your ego’s showing.”
“You love it,” he teases, pulling you close again.
As you stand there in his arms, surrounded by the cloying scent of roses you don’t even like, you’re struck by how safe you feel. How understood.
“Max?” You say softly.
“Hmm?”
You pull back slightly to meet his gaze. “Thank you. For everything. For making my birthday special, for listening to me, for ... just being here.”
Max’s expression softens, a tender smile playing at his lips. “You don’t have to thank me for that. I ... I care about you, Y/N. A lot.”
Your heart skips a beat at his words. “I care about you too,” you admit.
For a moment, you just stare at each other, the air charged with unspoken emotions. Then, slowly, Max leans in. His lips meet yours in a soft, sweet kiss that makes your toes curl.
When you break apart, you’re both slightly breathless. Max rests his forehead against yours, his thumb tracing circles on your cheek.
“So,” he says, a hint of uncertainty in his voice. “What happens now?”
You take a deep breath, considering. “Honestly? I’m not sure. This is all happening so fast, and with everything going on with my family ...”
Max nods, understanding in his eyes. “We can take it slow,” he assures you. “There’s no rush.”
Relief washes over you. “Thank you,” you say softly. “I do want this — us. I just need some time to figure everything out.”
“We’ve got all the time in the world,” Max says, pressing a gentle kiss to your nose. “For now, how about we get some breakfast? I’m starving.”
You laugh, grateful for the shift in mood. “Breakfast sounds perfect. But maybe we should change first? I’m not sure I want to face the paparazzi in yesterday’s clothes.”
Max grins, a mischievous glint in his eye. “I don’t know, I think you look pretty good in my t-shirt.”
You glance down, realizing for the first time that you’re indeed wearing one of Max’s shirts. A blush creeps up your cheeks. “When did that happen?”
“You got cold in the middle of the night,” Max explains, looking far too pleased with himself. “I offered you my shirt. You were very insistent that it was the most comfortable thing you’d ever worn.”
You groan, burying your face in your hands. “Oh god. Please tell me I didn’t say anything else embarrassing.”
Max laughs, gently prying your hands away from your face. “Nothing too bad. Though you did mention something about my waist being ‘unfairly perfect’. Your words, not mine.”
“Kill me now,” you mutter, but you can’t help the smile tugging at your lips.
Max pulls you close, pressing a kiss to your temple. “Never. I’m rather fond of you, embarrassing sleep talk and all.”
As you stand there in Max’s arms, the morning sun warming your skin and the scent of roses filling the air, you can’t help but feel a sense of hope. Yes, there’s still a lot to figure out — with your family, with Max, with your future. But for the first time in a long time, you feel like you’re exactly where you’re supposed to be.
And that, you think, is the best birthday gift of all.
***
The private terminal of Milan Malpensa Airport buzzes with activity as the Leclerc family waits to board their chartered jet. Charles paces back and forth, his phone clutched tightly in his hand, eyes darting to the entrance every few seconds.
“Charles, honey, please sit down,” his mother, Pascale, says gently. “You’re making me nervous.”
Charles shakes his head, running a hand through his hair for what must be the hundredth time. “I can’t, Maman. Where is she? She should be here by now.”
Lorenzo exchanges a worried glance with Arthur. “Maybe she got held up in traffic?” He suggests, though his tone lacks conviction.
“For three hours?” Charles snaps, immediately regretting his harsh tone. “Sorry, I just ... I’m worried.”
Arthur stands up, placing a comforting hand on Charles’ shoulder. “We all are. But Y/N’s an adult. She can take care of herself.”
Charles lets out a frustrated sigh. “I know that. But after yesterday ... we really messed up.”
“We did,” Pascale agrees softly, her eyes shining with unshed tears. “But we’ll make it right. We just need to talk to her.”
“If she ever shows up,” Charles mutters, resuming his pacing.
The minutes tick by agonizingly slow. Charles alternates between checking his phone and staring out the window, hoping to catch a glimpse of you arriving. But the parking lot remains stubbornly devoid of your presence.
Finally, a staff member approaches the family. “Mr. Leclerc? The jet is ready for boarding. We need to depart soon to maintain our flight slot.”
Charles feels panic rising in his chest. “No, we can’t leave yet. My sister isn’t here.”
The staff member looks uncomfortable. “I understand, sir, but we have a schedule to keep. Perhaps your sister could take a commercial flight?”
“Absolutely not,” Charles says firmly. “We’re not leaving without her.”
Lorenzo steps in, ever the diplomat. “Is there any way we could delay for just a bit longer? It’s really important that we wait for our sister.”
The staff member hesitates, then nods. “I’ll see what I can do. But please understand, we can’t hold the slot indefinitely.”
As the employee walks away, Charles resumes his pacing with renewed vigor.
“This isn’t like her,” he mutters. “She wouldn’t just disappear without telling us.”
Arthur bites his lip, looking guilty. “Maybe ... maybe she’s still upset about yesterday?”
Charles stops in his tracks, turning to face his younger brother. “What do you mean?”
Arthur shifts uncomfortably. “Well, we did forget her birthday. And then when we remembered, we didn’t exactly handle it well. Those roses you sent? Y/N hates roses.”
Charles feels like he’s been punched in the gut. “She ... what? No, she loves roses. I always get her roses.”
“Because you always get her roses,” Lorenzo chimes in, realization dawning on his face. “Not because she actually likes them.”
Charles slumps into a nearby chair, head in his hands. “How did I not know that? What kind of brother am I?”
Pascale moves to sit beside him, wrapping an arm around his shoulders. “We’ve all made mistakes. But we can fix this. We just need to talk to her.”
“If she’ll even talk to us,” Charles mumbles.
Just then, his phone buzzes. Charles nearly drops it in his haste to check the notification, hope flaring in his chest. But it’s not from you.
“It’s Max,” he says, frowning in confusion.
“Verstappen?” Arthur asks, leaning over to peek at the screen. “What does he want?”
Charles opens the message, his eyes widening as he reads it aloud:
“Y/N is with me. She’s safe and we’re flying back to Monaco together. She needs some space right now. Give her time.”
The silence that follows is deafening. Charles reads and rereads the message, trying to process what it means.
“She’s with Max?” Lorenzo finally says, breaking the silence. “Since when are they even friends?”
Charles shakes his head, still staring at his phone. “I don’t know. I ... I saw him last night. He knew where she was, but I thought it was just a spontaneous thing.”
“Well, at least we know she’s safe,” Pascale says, always trying to find the silver lining. “That’s the most important thing.”
But Charles can’t shake the feeling of unease settling in his stomach. “Why didn’t she come to us? Why Max, of all people?”
Arthur places a hand on Charles’ shoulder. “Maybe because he was there when we weren’t,” he says softly.
The words hit Charles like a physical blow. He knows Arthur is right, but it doesn’t make it any easier to hear.
“So what do we do now?” Lorenzo asks, looking around at his family.
Charles takes a deep breath, trying to calm the storm of emotions raging inside him. “We do what Max said. We give her time.”
“But for how long?” Pascale asks, worry evident in her voice. “She’s our little girl. We can’t just leave her alone.”
“She’s not alone, Maman,” Charles says, surprised by the steadiness in his voice. “She’s with Max. And as much as it pains me to admit it, I think ... I think she might be better off with him right now.”
The family falls silent again, each lost in their own thoughts. The weight of their collective mistake hangs heavy in the air.
Finally, Charles stands up, squaring his shoulders. “We should board the jet. There’s nothing more we can do here.”
As they gather their belongings and make their way to the plane, Charles can’t help but replay Max’s message in his head. You’re with Max. You’re safe. You need space.
He tries to imagine you and Max together, and finds that he can’t. What could have happened in the span of one day to bring you two together? And more importantly, what had driven you away from your own family?
As he settles into his seat on the jet, Charles makes a silent promise to himself and to you. He’ll give you the space you need, but he won’t give up. He’ll find a way to make things right, to be the brother you deserve.
The jet takes off, carrying the Leclerc family back to Monaco. But for Charles, it feels like they’re leaving a piece of themselves behind in Milan. A piece that, he fears, might be harder to reclaim than he ever imagined.
Meanwhile, across the airport, you and Max are boarding his private jet. The contrast between the two scenes couldn’t be more stark.
“You okay?” Max asks softly as you settle into your seat.
You nod, offering him a small smile. “Yeah, I think so. Thanks for ... well, everything.”
Max reaches over, giving your hand a gentle squeeze. “Anytime. You know that.”
As the jet prepares for takeoff, you can’t help but think about your family. Are they worried? Angry? Do they even care?
“Max?” You say, your voice barely above a whisper.
���Hmm?”
You turn to look at him, vulnerability shining in your eyes. “Did I do the right thing? Leaving without talking to them?”
Max considers your question carefully before answering. “I think you did what you needed to do for yourself. And that’s never wrong.”
His words settle over you like a warm blanket, easing some of the tension in your shoulders.
“Thank you,” you murmur. “For understanding. For not pushing me to do what everyone else thinks I should do.”
Max smiles, a soft, genuine expression that makes your heart flutter. “That’s what ... friends are for, right?”
There’s a hesitation in his voice, a question in his eyes that makes you wonder if ‘friends’ is really the right word for what’s developing between you.
As the jet takes off, carrying you away from Milan and the chaos of the past day, you find yourself feeling something you haven’t felt in a long time: hope. Hope for a future where you’re seen, heard, and valued for who you are.
And as you glance at Max, his profile illuminated by the setting sun streaming through the window, you can’t help but wonder if he might be a bigger part of that future than you ever imagined.
The jet climbs higher, leaving the ground and all its complications behind. For now, at least, you’re free. Free to breathe, to think, to feel without the weight of expectations pressing down on you.
You close your eyes, letting out a long breath. Whatever comes next, you know one thing for certain: things will never be the same again. And maybe, just maybe, that’s exactly what you need.
***
The sun is setting over Monaco, shining warmly through the floor-to-ceiling windows of Max’s penthouse apartment. You’re curled up on the plush sofa, a book in your lap, trying to lose yourself in the pages. But your mind keeps wandering, replaying the events of the past couple of days.
Max emerges from the kitchen, two steaming mugs in hand. “Thought you might need this,” he says, offering you one.
You smile gratefully, inhaling the rich aroma of hot chocolate. “Thanks. You didn’t have to.”
He shrugs, settling down beside you. “I wanted to. How’re you holding up?”
You’re about to answer when the doorbell rings. Max frowns, glancing at his watch. “I’m not expecting anyone. Are you?”
You shake your head, a knot of anxiety forming in your stomach. Could it be your family? Are they here to confront you?
Max squeezes your hand reassuringly before getting up to answer the door. You hear muffled voices, then the sound of something heavy being dragged across the floor.
“Um, Y/N?” Max calls. “I think you might want to see this.”
Curiosity overcoming your apprehension, you make your way to the foyer. Your jaw drops at the sight that greets you.
The entire space is filled with bags. Not just any bags, but the kind that comes from the most exclusive boutiques in Monaco. Gucci, Prada, Louis Vuitton, Chanel — the logos stare back at you from every direction.
“What ... what is all this?” You stammer, looking to Max for explanation.
He hands you a small envelope. “This came with it. It’s addressed to you.”
With trembling fingers, you open the envelope and unfold the note inside. You’d recognize that handwriting anywhere.
Y/N,
I know I messed up. We all did. I’m so sorry for forgetting your birthday and for not being the brother you deserve. I hope these gifts can begin to make up for it. Please come home. We miss you.
Love,
Charles
You read the note twice, then a third time, disbelief turning to anger with each pass.
“He’s got to be kidding,” you mutter, crumpling the paper in your fist.
Max steps closer, concern etched on his face. “What is it? What’s wrong?”
You let out a bitter laugh. “This,” you say, gesturing at the sea of designer bags, “is my brother’s idea of an apology. He thinks he can just ... buy me back with expensive gifts.”
Understanding dawns on Max’s face. “Ah. And I’m guessing that’s not going to work?”
“Not even close,” you say, shaking your head. “God, it’s like he doesn’t know me at all. I’m not one of his girlfriends who can be placated with a shopping spree.”
Max winces. “Ouch. Has he done this before?”
You nod, sinking down onto the nearest clear spot on the floor. “Every time he messes up with a girl, it’s the same routine. Flowers, jewelry, designer clothes. And it usually works, because the girls he dates ... well, they tend to be into that kind of thing.”
Max sits down beside you, his shoulder brushing against yours. “But you’re not.”
“No,” you confirm. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, I appreciate nice things. But that’s not what this is about. It’s about him actually listening to me, actually seeing me as a person and not just ... his kid sister who can be bought off.”
Max is quiet for a moment, then says softly, “You know, it’s okay to be angry about this. You don’t have to pretend it doesn’t hurt.”
His words break something open inside you. Tears well up in your eyes, spilling over before you can stop them. “I just ... I thought he knew me better than this. I thought they all did.”
Max wraps an arm around your shoulders, pulling you close. You lean into him, letting the tears fall freely now.
“It’s like they don’t even see me,” you choke out between sobs. “They see this idea of who they think I should be, but not ... not who I actually am.”
Max rubs soothing circles on your back, letting you cry it out. When your sobs finally subside, he hands you a tissue.
“Feel better?” He asks gently.
You nod, wiping your eyes. “A little. Sorry for breaking down on you like that.”
Max shakes his head firmly. “Don’t apologize. That’s what I’m here for.”
You offer him a watery smile, then turn back to survey the mountain of bags. “So ... what do I do with all this?”
Max considers for a moment. “Well, what do you want to do?”
You bite your lip, thinking. “Honestly? I want to send it all back. Show him that he can’t just throw money at the problem and expect it to go away.”
Max nods approvingly. “I think that’s a great idea. It sends a clear message.”
“You don’t think it’s too harsh?” You ask, a hint of uncertainty creeping into your voice.
“Not at all,” Max assures you. “You’re standing up for yourself, setting boundaries. That’s important.”
Emboldened by his support, you start rifling through the bags, curiosity getting the better of you. “I wonder what he even bought ... oh.”
You pull out a small velvet box, opening it to reveal a delicate tennis bracelet. The diamonds catch the light, sparkling brilliantly.
“Wow,” Max breathes, leaning in for a closer look. “That’s ... that’s something.”
You nod, mesmerized by the way the bracelet shimmers. “It’s beautiful,” you admit softly.
Max watches you carefully. “You like it,” he observes.
You sigh, closing the box with a snap. “It doesn’t matter. It’s going back with everything else.”
“Why?” Max asks, genuine curiosity in his voice. “If you like it, why not keep it?”
You look at him, surprised. “But ... I thought you said sending it all back was a good idea?”
Max shrugs. “It is. But that doesn’t mean you can’t keep one thing if it genuinely makes you happy. You’re allowed to like nice things, Y/N. That doesn’t invalidate your feelings about the situation.”
You turn the box over in your hands, considering. “I don’t know ... wouldn’t keeping anything send the wrong message?”
“I think,” Max says slowly, “that the message you send depends more on what you say than what you keep or don’t keep. If you like the bracelet, keep it. But make sure Charles understands that a pretty piece of jewelry doesn’t fix the underlying issues.”
You nod, his words resonating with you. “You’re right. I’ll keep the bracelet ... but everything else goes back.”
As you start sorting through the bags, separating out what will be returned, you can’t help but laugh.
“What’s so funny?” Max asks, a smile tugging at his lips.
You hold up the bracelet box. “I was just thinking ... it would be a shame to let something this pretty go to waste, right?”
Max chuckles, shaking his head. “Absolutely. It’s practically your duty to keep it. For the sake of the bracelet, of course.”
“Of course,” you agree, giggling. “I’m being completely selfless here.”
As you continue to sort through the gifts, occasionally showing Max particularly outrageous items (“A fur coat? In Monaco?”), you feel a weight lifting from your shoulders. For the first time since this whole ordeal began, you feel like you’re taking control of the situation.
“You know,” you say, folding a designer dress back into its bag, “I think I need to have a real conversation with Charles. With all of them, really.”
Max nods encouragingly. “I think that’s a great idea. What do you want to say?”
You take a deep breath, organizing your thoughts. “I want them to understand that I’m my own person, with my own dreams and desires. That I need them to see me, really see me, not just as Charles Leclerc’s little sister or as an extension of the family name.”
“That sounds perfect,” Max says softly. “You deserve to be seen for who you are.”
You smile at him, a rush of warmth flooding your chest. “Thank you. For everything. I don’t know how I would have gotten through this without you.”
Max reaches out, taking your hand in his. “You’re stronger than you give yourself credit for. But I’m glad I could help.”
As you sit there, surrounded by discarded luxury goods, your hand in Max’s, you feel a sense of peace settling over you. You know the road ahead won’t be easy — confronting your family, establishing new boundaries, figuring out exactly where you stand with Max — but for the first time in a long time, you feel ready to face it all.
You slip on the tennis bracelet, admiring the way it catches the light. It’s beautiful, yes, but it’s also a reminder. A reminder that you’re worth more than grand gestures and expensive gifts. You’re worth being truly seen, truly heard, truly understood.
And as you look at Max, his blue eyes warm with understanding and something that might be more, you think that maybe, just maybe, you’ve found someone who sees you for exactly who you are.
***
The afternoon sun beats down on the streets of Monaco as Charles leans against his Ferrari, fidgeting nervously. He’s parked across from the International University of Monaco, his eyes fixed on the entrance. Students stream in and out, but none of them are the one he’s looking for.
He checks his watch for what must be the hundredth time. Your last class should be ending any minute now. Charles takes a deep breath, trying to calm his racing heart. He’s rehearsed what he wants to say a thousand times, but now that the moment is approaching, all his carefully prepared words seem to evaporate.
A group of students emerges from the building, laughing and chatting. Charles straightens up, his eyes scanning the crowd. And then he sees you.
You’re walking with a couple of friends, your bag slung over your shoulder, a smile on your face. For a moment, Charles is struck by how ... normal you look. How at ease. It’s a stark contrast to the tense family dinners and stilted conversations of recent months.
Before he can second-guess himself, Charles pushes off from his car and starts walking towards you. He sees the exact moment you spot him — your smile falters, your steps slow.
“Y/N!” He calls out, waving awkwardly.
Your friends notice him too, their eyes widening in recognition. You say something to them that Charles can’t hear, and they nod, casting curious glances between you and your brother as they walk away.
Charles reaches you, stopping a few feet away, suddenly unsure of himself. “Hey,” he says softly.
“Charles,” you reply, your voice carefully neutral. “What are you doing here?”
He runs a hand through his hair, a nervous habit he’s never been able to shake. “I ... I wanted to talk to you. In person. You haven’t been answering my calls or texts, and I just ... I needed to see you.”
You sigh, adjusting the strap of your bag. “I’ve been busy with classes. And I needed some space.”
“I know,” Charles says quickly. “I know, and I’m sorry for ambushing you like this. I just ... can we talk? Please?”
You glance around, noticing the curious stares from passing students. “Not here,” you say finally. “There’s a café around the corner. We can talk there.”
Charles nods eagerly, relief washing over him. “Yes, of course. Whatever you want.”
You lead the way to the café, a small, cozy place tucked away from the main streets. As you settle into a booth in the back, Charles can’t help but wonder how often you come here, how many parts of your life he knows nothing about.
A waitress approaches, and you order your usual — an iced latte with an extra shot. Charles fumbles with the menu before ordering a simple espresso.
An awkward silence falls over the table as you wait for your drinks. Charles fidgets with a napkin, trying to find the right words to begin.
“So,” you say finally, your tone clipped. “You wanted to talk. Talk.”
Charles takes a deep breath. “I’m sorry,” he blurts out. “I’m so, so sorry, Y/N. For forgetting your birthday, for not being there for you, for ... for everything.”
You raise an eyebrow, your expression unreadable. “Is that it?”
Charles blinks, thrown off balance. “I ... what do you mean?”
“I mean,” you say, leaning forward slightly, “is that all you have to say? You’re sorry?”
Charles feels a flash of frustration. “What else do you want me to say? I messed up, I know that. I’m trying to make it right.”
The waitress returns with your drinks, and you take a long sip of your latte before responding. “Charles, this isn’t just about my birthday. This is about years of feeling invisible, of being overshadowed, of not being seen for who I am.”
Charles feels like he’s been punched in the gut. “What? Y/N, I ... I had no idea you felt that way.”
You let out a bitter laugh. “That’s kind of the point, Charles. You didn’t know because you never asked. None of you did.”
Charles sits back, his mind reeling. “I ... I don’t understand. We’ve always been close. At least, I thought we were.”
“We were,” you agree softly. “When we were kids. But as you got more and more successful, it was like ... like I faded into the background. Everything became about you, about your career.”
Charles feels tears pricking at his eyes. “Y/N, I never meant for that to happen. I love you. You’re my little sister.”
“I know you love me,” you say, your voice gentler now. “But loving someone and seeing them are two different things.”
Charles nods slowly, realization dawning. “The gifts,” he says. “That’s why you sent them back. Because I was trying to fix things without actually understanding what was wrong.”
“Exactly,” you confirm. “Charles, I don’t need expensive clothes or jewelry. I need my brother. The one who used to listen to me ramble about constellations for hours, who’d sneak me extra dessert when Maman wasn’t looking.”
Charles reaches across the table, hesitating for a moment before taking your hand. To his relief, you don’t pull away. “I want to be that brother again,” he says earnestly. “Tell me how. Please.”
You take a deep breath, considering. “Well, for starters, you could ask me about my life. My studies, my friends, my dreams. And actually listen to the answers.”
Charles nods eagerly. “Yes, of course. Tell me everything. What are you studying? How are your classes going?”
A small smile tugs at your lips. “I’m majoring in Astrophysics, remember? This semester I’m taking a course on Stellar Evolution that’s absolutely fascinating. We’re learning about the life cycles of stars, from their formation to their eventual death.”
As you continue talking, passion lighting up your eyes, Charles feels a mix of pride and shame wash over him. Pride in your intelligence and enthusiasm, shame that he’s missed out on so much of your life.
“That sounds incredible,” he says when you pause for breath. “I had no idea you were studying something so complex. You must be really good at it.”
You shrug, a hint of your old shyness creeping in. “I do okay. It’s challenging, but I love it.”
“I’m sure you do more than okay,” Charles insists. “You’ve always been the smartest one in the family.”
You laugh softly. “I don’t know about that. But ... thanks, Charles. It means a lot to hear you say that.”
Charles squeezes your hand. “I mean it. And I want to hear more. About your classes, your friends, everything. I’ve missed so much, and I want to make up for it.”
You nod, a cautious hope in your eyes. “I’d like that. But Charles, it can’t just be today. This has to be a continuous thing. I need to know that you’re genuinely interested in my life, not just when you’re trying to make amends.”
“Absolutely,” Charles agrees immediately. “What if we set up a regular call? Once a week, we can catch up properly. No distractions, no racing talk unless you want to. Just us.”
A genuine smile spreads across your face. “I’d really like that.”
Charles feels a weight lifting from his shoulders. It’s not fixed, not completely, but it’s a start. “There’s something else,” he says, suddenly remembering. “Max ... are you and Max ...”
You blush slightly, looking down at your latte. “We’re ... figuring things out. He’s been really supportive through all of this.”
Charles nods, pushing down the instinctive surge of protectiveness. “He’s a good guy. If he makes you happy, then I’m happy for you.”
You look up, surprise evident in your eyes. “Really? You’re not going to go all overprotective big brother on me?”
Charles chuckles. “Oh, I’m sure I’ll have my moments. But Y/N, you’re an adult. You can make your own choices. I trust you.”
Tears well up in your eyes. “Thank you. That ... that means more than you know.”
As you both finish your drinks, the conversation flows more easily. Charles asks about your friends, your hobbies outside of studying. You tell him about the astronomy club you’ve joined, the research project you’re hoping to get involved with next semester.
When it’s time to leave, Charles stands up, hesitating for a moment before opening his arms. “Can I ...”
You nod, stepping into his embrace. Charles holds you tight, realizing how long it’s been since he’s really hugged you like this.
“I love you, little sister,” he murmurs into your hair. “And I promise, I’m going to do better.”
You squeeze him back. “I love you too, big brother. And ... I’m willing to give you the chance to prove it.”
As you part ways outside the café, Charles heading back to his car and you towards your apartment, there’s a lightness in the air that wasn’t there before. It’s not perfect, not yet. There are still conversations to be had, bridges to be rebuilt. But for the first time in a long time, there’s hope.
Charles watches you walk away, a mix of emotions swirling in his chest. Pride in the amazing person you’ve become, regret for the time he’s missed, determination to be the brother you deserve.
He pulls out his phone, creating a new reminder: Call Y/N — every Sunday, 7 PM.
It’s a small step, but it’s a start. And as he drives home, Charles finds himself looking forward to getting to know his little sister all over again.
***
The auditorium of the International University of Monaco buzzes with excitement as proud families and friends gather to celebrate the graduating class. In the front row, an unusually high-profile group draws curious glances and whispered conversations.
Charles fidgets in his seat, craning his neck to scan the sea of graduates. “Do you see her?” He asks, nudging his older brother.
Lorenzo chuckles, placing a calming hand on Charles’ shoulder. “Relax. She’ll be here. Alphabetical order, remember?”
On Charles’ other side, Arthur rolls his eyes fondly. “You’d think he was the one graduating, the way he’s acting.”
“Can you blame him?” Max chimes in from the end of the row, a warm smile on his face. “It’s a big day.”
Pascale, seated between Lorenzo and Arthur, dabs at her eyes with a tissue. “My baby girl, graduating university. I can hardly believe it.”
Max reaches across to pat her hand. “She’s amazing, Pascale. You should be very proud.”
Charles turns to Max, a mischievous glint in his eye. “Look at you, all calm and collected. I remember when you were a nervous wreck asking her out for the first time.”
Max blushes slightly, but grins. “Hey, your sister is intimidating. All that brainpower.”
“Shh!” Arthur hisses suddenly. “I think it’s starting!”
The auditorium falls silent as the ceremony begins. The family watches with rapt attention as the graduates file in, searching for that familiar face among the sea of caps and gowns.
And then, there you are. Your eyes scan the crowd until they land on your family, a bright smile spreading across your face as you wave discreetly.
“There she is!” Charles whisper-shouts, practically bouncing in his seat.
Lorenzo chuckles. “We see her. Try to contain yourself, yeah?”
The ceremony progresses, with speeches from the valedictorian and various dignitaries. Charles fidgets impatiently, earning amused glances from his family and Max.
Finally, the moment arrives. “Y/N Leclerc,” the announcer calls.
Charles jumps to his feet, letting out a whoop that echoes through the auditorium. “That’s my sister!” He shouts, drawing startled looks from nearby attendees.
Lorenzo and Arthur quickly join in, their cheers mixing with Charles’. Max and Pascale stand too, clapping enthusiastically.
You walk across the stage, accepting your diploma with a graceful nod. As you turn to face the audience, your eyes lock with your family’s, and your composed expression breaks into a radiant smile.
Charles, caught up in the moment, continues cheering even after you’ve left the stage. “That’s right! Astrophysicist in the house! Watch out, universe!”
Max, noticing the irritated glances from other families, reaches over and claps a hand over Charles’ mouth. “Okay, Charlie, I think she heard you,” he says, laughter in his voice.
Max feels something wet against his palm and jerks his hand away.
“Ugh, gross!” Max yelps, wiping it on his pants. “What are you, five?”
Charles grins unrepentantly. “You started it.”
Pascale sighs, shaking her head. “Boys, please. This is Y/N’s big day. Try to act like adults.”
“Sorry, Maman,” Charles mumbles, properly chastised.
As the ceremony concludes, the family makes their way outside, eagerly scanning the crowd for you.
“There!” Arthur calls out, pointing.
You’re making your way towards them, diploma in hand, your face glowing with happiness. Max reaches you first, sweeping you into a tight hug.
“Congratulations, liefje,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your temple. “I’m so proud of you.”
You beam up at him, about to respond when Charles practically tackles you both.
“My sister, the genius!” He crows, lifting you off your feet and spinning you around. “I always knew you’d take over the world someday.”
You laugh, hugging him back just as fiercely. “Put me down, you goof! You’re making a scene.”
“Let him have his moment,” Lorenzo says, stepping in for his own hug once Charles releases you. “It’s not every day your little sister graduates top of her class in Astrophysics.”
Arthur’s turn comes next, his hug gentler but no less heartfelt. “Congrats. You’ve officially made the rest of us look like underachievers.”
Finally, you turn to your mother, who’s openly crying now. “Oh, my darling,” she says, cupping your face in her hands. “I’m so, so proud of you.”
You feel tears welling up in your own eyes as you embrace her. “Thanks, Maman. For everything.”
As you pull back, wiping at your eyes, Charles slings an arm around your shoulders. “So, what’s next? Going to discover a new planet? Name a star after your favorite man?”
You roll your eyes fondly. “First of all, I still have to get through graduate school. And second, bold of you to assume you’re my favorite.”
“Ouch,” Charles clutches his chest in mock pain. “After all we’ve been through?”
Max chuckles, wrapping an arm around your waist. “Face it, Leclerc. I’ve got you beat in the favorite department.”
Charles narrows his eyes playfully. “Is that a challenge, Verstappen?”
“Boys, boys,” you interject, laughing. “There’s plenty of me to go around. Now, how about we get out of here? I’m starving, and I believe someone promised me a celebration dinner.”
“Ah, yes!” Pascale says, clapping her hands together. “I’ve made reservations at La Maree. Your favorite, chérie.”
As the family starts to move towards the parking lot, Max hangs back, tugging gently on your hand. “Hold on a sec,” he says softly. “I want to give you something.”
Curious, you turn to face him. Max reaches into his pocket, pulling out a small velvet box.
Your eyes widen. “Max ...”
He opens the box, revealing a delicate necklace. A small white gold star pendant hangs from the chain, a tiny diamond twinkling at its center.
“I know it’s not much compared to your usual study subjects,” Max says, a hint of nervousness in his voice. “But I thought ... well, you’re my star, Y/N. My brilliant, beautiful star.”
Tears well up in your eyes again as Max fastens the necklace around your neck. “It’s perfect,” you whisper. “I love it. I love you.”
Max’s face breaks into a radiant smile. “I love you too,” he says, before leaning in to capture your lips in a tender kiss.
You melt into the kiss, wrapping your arms around his neck as his hands settle on your waist. For a moment, the world fades away, and it’s just the two of you.
The spell is broken by an exaggerated gagging sound. You break apart to see Charles pretending to retch, while Lorenzo and Arthur laugh.
You break apart, laughing. “Real mature, Charles,” you call back.
Charles grins, unrepentant. “Hey, someone’s got to keep an eye on you crazy kids.”
Max rolls his eyes good-naturedly. “Your brother, the chaperone,” he mutters.
You giggle, taking Max’s hand as you rejoin your family. “Don’t worry,” you whisper conspiratorially. “We’ll ditch him at the restaurant.”
As you all pile into the waiting cars, the air buzzing with excitement and plans for the evening, you can’t help but feel overwhelmed with happiness. A year ago, you never would have imagined this scene — your family truly seeing and celebrating you, a wonderful man by your side who loves and supports you, and a bright future ahead in a field you’re passionate about.
The cars pull away from the university, carrying you towards your celebration dinner. As you watch the familiar streets of Monaco roll by, you find yourself filled with an incredible sense of anticipation. This isn’t just the end of your university journey — it’s the beginning of something new and exciting.
You glance around the car — at Charles and Arthur bickering good-naturedly in the back seat, at your mother chatting happily with Lorenzo who’s driving, and finally at Max beside you, his hand warm in yours. Your family, in all its chaotic, loving glory.
“Hey,” Max says softly, noticing your pensive expression. “You okay?”
You smile, squeezing his hand. “More than okay. I’m perfect.”
And as the car winds its way through the streets of Monaco, towards a future bright with possibility, you know that it’s true. You’re exactly where you’re meant to be, surrounded by love, with the stars stretching out endlessly before you.
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vivwritesfics · 24 days ago
Text
Smooth Is The Descent
All your father did was talk of rest, but the emperors didn't take that well. Punishing your father didn't do much, so you were punished instead. It's a shame the champion gladiator they gave you too has no interest in being anything but sweet to you
Lucius Verus x reader (general Acacius's daughter)
Warnings: sa (not explicitly written but heavily implied), Canon typical violence, use of the name whore (let me know if I've forgotten anything)
Chapter Two
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You were never supposed to bear the weight of his words. You hadn't been the one to say them, to let such blasphemies leave your lips. Yet here you were, facing the punishment for them. 
"No!" Your father cried when Geta turned his attention to you. "Emperor Geta, please! The words were mine! Do not punish my daughter for them!" 
But the general was ignored and you were taken away. 
For such punishment, you would have thought it treason your father had spoken. But no, he only spoke of rest, of spending some time at home with his wife and his daughter. His wife, Lucilla. She was not your mother, but you respected her still. The woman your father had chosen to marry after your mother's tragic end. 
No more details of your punishment were given to General Acacius. The twin emperors, with sickening smiles on their painted faces, sent your father away before you could utter a word to him, before you could assure him that you would be okay, that you were strong. 
Of course, if he knew the true nature of your punishment, he would have stormed the Palace to get you back. He would have taken on every man that stood between him and the twin emperors, slain them then and there. 
Whatever your fate was, you knew no harm would befall you. Well, no lasting damage, nothing that would send you to the afterlife. For the moment your hand was placed in Death and you allowed her to lead you to a forever slumber, their control over your father would have been lost. 
But it was still a punishment. 
With your wrists shackled together, you were led away. Emperor Geta had controlled his men with nothing but the flick of his wrist and you realised that your punishment had been preplanned, prepared for the moment your father stepped out of line. 
You had no idea what awaited you. Lashings, beatings. Maybe Caracalla would have you dance for them, for their entire court, the senate, and your father, wearing nothing. That had happened before. Your face had burned with humiliation and your father had been unable to look at you. 
Instead, you were taken from the Palace. The control the twin emperors had over your father was no secret, the reason why their hold over him was so strong was no secret.  
You. It was all because of you. 
"Feed her to the barbarians," the man pushing you out of the Palace had said once you'd made it to the Colosseum. 
Feed her to the barbarians.
Suddenly, you struggled. "No!" You cried as you tried to twist out of their hold. "No, you can't!" Barbarians. Once slaves from conquered nations, now gladiators, fighting for their freedom. 
Your father had been the one to conquer their lands, the one to take them prisoner. There was no telling what would happen once they found out who you were. 
"Please," you cried, tears rolling down your cheeks. "Please, they'll kill me! Once they find out who I am, they'll kill me." Clutching the soldiers armours, you dropped to your knees, still sobbing. "Please," you cried. "Please." 
He kicked you away, his sandal hitting your chest. It knocked the very wind from your lungs, left you struggling for breath as you tried to get up. "I suggest you keep your mouth shut," he spat. 
The men outside of the Colosseum, the ones that had watched you pathetically sob, grabbed you and hauled you to your feet. You couldn't help they way you cried, your feet dragging and the gravel digging into your skin. 
They carried you into the darkness, the only light source being the flicking lanterns along the walls. When you were far enough into the labyrinth beneath the Colosseum, they let you go and pushed you to your knees. The dirt and the gravel bit into your palms as you were pushed forward. 
"Come and get your fill," one of the men that had dragged you called, but they weren't talking to you. 
One hulking gladiator stepped forward. The very ground shook with every step he took towards you. He crouched in front of you, fingers beneath your chin forcing you to look at him, to look into your eyes. He took in the finery of your clothing, the gold atop your head and the bracelets around your wrists. A girl of status, that was clear. 
When he smiled, you saw mostly gums. The smile was ghastly, twisted and evil. The sort of smile you had only seen the twin emperors wear. "She'll do," he said and dragged you to your feet. 
"No!" You cried again, screaming in his face as your struggled against your grip. But he pulled you against his chest, arms wrapping around you as he dragged you away. 
A night of torture. That was what it was, nothing more. Torture that never seemed to end. Gladiators that never grew weary, gladiators that kept your torture going through the night. Torture that kept you from the reprieve of sleep. 
The sun might has risen, but you weren't to know. It was only when soldiers came to fetch you, threw you a cloak to hide your tattered clothing and your broken state, that you allowed yourself to breathe. 
Breathe without the foul scent of gladiator surrounding you. Breathe without tasting death. 
Your body ached as you were again shackled and taken back to the twin emperors. Geta and Caracalla revelled in pain and torture, this you knew. Even as General Acacius's daughter, you were not exempt. 
You were dragged before the twin emperors, cloak pulled from your body. Geta grinned at the sight of you, at the bruises marring your skin, at the way your legs trembled in exhaustion. At the way your clothing hung in tatters, showing too much of you. It was nothing they hadn't seen before, again down to your punishment. 
"A fitting reminder to your father of what will happen should he dare to question me again,"  Geta said and held out his hand. You couldn't help but tremble as you took it and kissed his ring. 
He pushed you away with a demand to clean up before the games. They were in your father's honour, after all. Sick and barbaric games, all for the pleasure of the emperors. Games meant to be in your father's honour, yes, but you knew how much he hated this. 
Your horse walked slowly, as if he was aware of just how much pain your body was in. Your patted his neck in appreciation as you rode towards your home. The gates opened as you approached and you rode through. You were slow as you jumped from his back and handed his reins off to your groom. 
Holding your cloak closer to your body, you headed inside. As much as you didn't want your father seeing you like this, as much as you wanted to run to the baths before your father or Lucilla could catch sight of you, you couldn't avoid it. 
There your father was, dressed all in white. Ready for the games, you realised. He wore concern on his face when he took in your appearance. "Oh, my daughter." General Acacius couldn't hide the sadness from his voice as he strode towards you. "I swear they'll pay for this." When his hands touched you, touched the bruises you were trying to keep hidden, you hissed and pulled away from him. 
"Do not speak such things, father," you said as you stepped away from him. "I will be ready for the games shortly."
You bathed as quickly as you could, desperate not to make your father late. God, you could only imagine the anger on Geta and Caracalla if you made him late, could only imagine the punishment that would be placed onto you. Lucillas staff helped you to dress, helped replace the jewellery the gladiators had stolen from you and helped you to fix your hair. 
Gathering your skirts, you joined your father and Lucilla. Things were quiet, you refusing to speak on your way to the games. Games, what a silly word for it. What a silly word for men fighting each other for the pleasure and amusement of other men. 
You sat silently, head bowed as you rode towards the games. Your father said nothing, you said nothing to him. It was better that way, better if you didn't talk about it. The less he knew, the better. The better for the both of you. 
At the Colosseum, you were led to your seats. Led to the Emperors box. Geta and Caracalla stood, observing the crowd as the games announcer announced your father. The crowd roared as your father stepped towards them at the request of Emperor Geta. A request he answered when Geta looked to you in silent threat. They cheered his name and clapped their hands. 
"Speak to them," said Emperor Geta as your father turned to return to you and Lucilla. Another request your father couldn't deny, another silent threat made towards you. 
It was hard to listen to your father as the Colosseum surrounded you. Mere hours before, you had been here, you had been tortured beneath her walls. The men that would come and fight in the name of your father had been your tormentors through the night. Your eyes stung with fresh, hot tears, but you didn't let them fall.
You were all too aware of the man sitting behind you. Macrinus, the gladiator king. The title did not come from his ability to fight, you knew, but his ability to choose. Choose the best fighters, the one that would win him the most coin. These were his fighters, you realised as your father finished speaking. He came and took his seat between yourself and Lucilla. The crowd was still cheering his name, showing him more love and loyalty than they showed their emperors. 
The barbarians from Numidia. That was what the games announcer had called them. You watched, none of their faces those of your tormentors, they they strode into the middle of the Colosseum. Their armour was minimal, some carrying swords, some carrying a sword and shield. Some pointed at the crowd tried to get their attention, tried to elicit cheers, and the rest were more concerned with what was to come. 
And one looked towards the Emperors. At least, you thought he was looking towards the Emperors. But Lucilla stilled, and polite smile dropping from her face. "What is it, my love?" Your father asked her, but she could not bring herself to answer. 
The rhino and its rider. You knew the face of it's rider, the face of the man that had taken you first the night before. Your blood ran cold as you watched. For the first time, your support when to the barbarians, to Macrinus. 
The rider pulled a weapon, something sharp and deadly. The crowd around you cheered for him. Your focus was for the Numidian front and centre, instructing the other gladiators. Unable to hear what he was saying, you sat forward in your seat. 
The rhino charged and the gladiators broke, running for the wall. The Beast kicked up sand, preventing you a clear picture of what was happening. "Do not watch the brutality, my daughter," your father whispered, but you couldn't help yourself. 
Violence and death didn't fascinate you like it did men. But to see the rider of the rhino brought to his knees? You weren't looking away for one second. 
But there was a reason he was undefeated. 
You watched the Numidian pick up the gravel and sand in his hands. The rider was focused on him, you realised. He charged but the gladiator stood there, unyielding. He was going to get himself killed. 
At the last moment, he threw the sand and it spread out around him, blocking him from view. The rhino still blindly charged, but the Numidian man leapt out of the way. Suddenly, hope soared within you. If anybody could bring down the rider...
With its horn smashed and its rider no longer on its back, the rhino sat in pain. But the two gladiators were on their feet, racing towards the sword. You held your breath as the Numidian grabbed it first, repeatedly used its hilt to hit your tormentor in the head. 
But then your tormentor twisted in his hold and grabbed the sword. He kicked the Numidian until he was on the floor and then roared to the crowd. 
No.
"The gates of hell are open night and day," Geta said with a grin as he looked down at the Numidian man. "Smooth is the..." He pinched the bridge of his nose, unable to remember the rest of it. 
"Sooth of the descent, easy is the way." 
You tore your eyes away from the Numidian man as Lucilla stood. 
But the fight was still happening and you were entranced by it. The Numidian was given a shield to aid in his fight. You couldn't help but watch him, eyes roaming over every inch of muscle as he fought back. He was strong, but so was the rider. An even match, the end result came down to skill. 
But the Numidian was on the floor and the crowd was chanting. "Mercy! Mercy!" You heard them chant again and again. 
"Blood," Caracalla said to his brother wearing a twisted grin. Caracalla always wanted blood. 
Geta turned his attention to you. "What shall we do? Shall we show the barbarian Mercy?" No matter your answer, Geta was going to do what he liked. 
"Mercy," Lucilla said suddenly, before you could give your own answer. 
Geta brought his hand down, channelling the Gods. It was a farce, your God's wouldn't allow this. He clenched his fist, his thumb sticking out. As he did so, the crowd fell silent, waiting with trepidation. 
His thumb raised. Mercy. The Numidian man was to stay living, and so was your tormentor. Your breath caught in your throat from the unfairness, the injustice. If the Gods were out there, how could they le this happen?
"No mercy!" The Numidian man shouted as he got to his feet.
"Your life has been spared by the Gods-" 
"I would sooner face your blade than accept Roman mercy!" The Numidian shouted, interrupting Emperor Geta. Foolish, foolish man. 
But the fight resumed. The Numidian man dodged out of the way. He picked up his own sword, and the fight truly began. 
It wasn't long until his blade went through the stomach of the rider. Undefeated, yet all it took was a man from another land to end his life. As he sat there, on his knees, the Numidian man took his head from his body with a mighty shout. 
He was dead. The man that had taken you so forcefully last night was dead. Many of your tormentors were still alive down there, but not for much longer, not with this barbarian around. 
You released a choked sob as the barbarian gladiator walked away. 
Emperor Caracalla turned to you, still wearing a sick smile. "Perhaps we should give our new champion a prize," he said, lounging back in his seat. "An insensitive to keep winning." 
"You know, brother? I think you are right," Geta agreed and looked back to you. "A fitting prize for our new champion, wouldn't you say?" 
Hands gripped your arms and pulled you from your seat. "No!" Your father cried. "Emperors, please! You have no reason to punish her! We have done nothing wrong!" 
Emperor Geta levelled your father with a vicious, horrible look in his eye. "If you care about her life, Acacius, you will stay quiet." Geta snapped his fingers and you were dragged away, unable to look your father in the eye. If there were Gods, why weren't they helping you?
They dragged you to the baths and pushed you inside. You fell to your knees in front of the baths and the guards backed away from you, locking you inside. 
There he was, already in the water. His eyes tracked you as you stood up and brushed the dirt from your clothes. If you could stand to look at him, you would have seen just how beautiful those eyes were. 
"You don't belong down here," he said, 
You held your hands in fists by your sides as you watched him, waiting for him to move in some way. But he was completely still, watching you. Waiting for you to move, just as you were waiting for him. 
"You're right," you said, holding your chin up high. "I don't belong down here." 
He stood, water dripping from his skin as he stepped out of the baths. You looked at your sandals, unable to properly gaze upon, to see how much of a man he really was.
The gladiator laughed when you averted your gaze. But he got dressed, bothering with everything but his shirt. That you could look upon. The defined muscles of his chest, his thick arms. He was beautiful, you realised.
"You don't belong down here, yet you are here. Why?" He asked as he stood before you. You couldn't help but shrink under his gaze as he took another step.
You couldn't press yourself any closer to the wall. But you raised your chin, as if in defiance. "I am here as punishment."
His fingers touched your chin, face close to yours. Even after his bath, he still smelt like the Colosseum. "What did a little thing like you do to deserve punishment?"
Finally, you tore your eyes away from his intense, blue stare. "My father spoke of rest," you spat as you stepped away from him, arms crossed over your chest. "Rome is hungry, she must be fed."
The gladiator released a laugh, bitter and sad all at the same time. "Tell your emperors I don't want the general's whore." He walked away, leaving you in the baths.
Again, you were alone in the Colosseum. If last night was any indicator, it wouldn't be for long. You released a sob as you sat there and desperately wiped at your eyes. 'The general's whore.' The gladiator had no idea who he was talking to. Good.
Footsteps, sandals against the stone floor of the baths. You looked up, your eyed looking into the stormy blue of the handsome gladiator. "Come on," he offered you his hand.
Swallowing, trying to act like you hadn't just been crying, you placed your hand in his. His arm settled around your shoulders, holding you against him as he walked you through the Colosseum. The other gladiators stared at you, their eyes hungry. But you looked away, kept your focus on the gladiator holding you. "Why are you doing this?" You whispered.
"You wouldn't survive a night wandering around down here," he murmured as the door to his cell was pulled open.
You swallowed as you walked in. The door was shut behind you as the gladiator walked in. "Sit," he said and gestured to the bed.
You did what you were best at and obeyed. Sitting on the bed, you looked as he sat before you, his hands clasped together. He wouldn't touch you, not in the way the emperors intended for him to. That much was clear.
"What is your name, gladiator?"
He stared at you, unspeaking for a good long moment. It was unnerving, the way he just stared. His stormy eyes focused on you. "Hanno," he answered and turned away from you. "I was taken from my home by the general whose bed you warm."
"I do not warm his bed!" You shouted, suddenly on your feet. The notion had bile ready to rise in your throat.
Hanno laughed. "Yet you enjoy his company. You sit with him while you watch us, get sick pleasure from watching us maim each other.”
"I was there by order of Emperor Geta!" You challenged, standing up. "You act as if I have a choice, as if I want to sit there and watch men get slaughtered. No, I hate it! I don't see why you have to fight!"
He stood, too, towering over you once again. "I fight for my freedom." His voice was so low, dangerous, even. "I fight because my home was taken from me by your general. My home, my wife, taken from me because, what? Because Rome was hungry. Do not lecture me on choice."
You sat back down, tears in your eyes. You knew what your father did, but being told such details was something else. "I'm sorry," you sobbed as you pulled your knees up to your chest. "On behalf of Rome, of the general, I truly am sorry."
A sigh left his lips as he sat beside you. "It's not your place to apologise for what the general has done," he said and leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees. "Rome has been a corrupt place, long before you came along."
You blinked up at him, tears resting on your lashes. "What was your home like?" You asked and turned your head towards him.
He told you everything, told you about his wife, his home. The chickens he chased away from the crops and the harvest. The conversation always steered back to his wife.
You didn't ask what happened, didn't force him to relive the trauma so soon. But you couldn't hide your yawns, or the way your eyes were drooping. "Rest now," he said as he stood from his cot. "I will not disturb you."
You laid down, but you didn't sleep, not immediately. Your eyes were shut, but you weren't asleep. Every time Hanno moved, you opened your eyes to watch him, to make sure he wasn't going to use you. Not that you could stop him. But he didn't. He never laid a hand on you.
Eventually, you drifted off, eyes shut and breathing steady. Hanno watched you for a moment. It wasn’t your fault, what Rome had done to his land, to his home. It wasn’t your fault, what the general had done, and he wouldn't take it out on you.
a/n: definitely more parts to come! I won't lie I didn't mean to find Paul hot but his charms have bewitched me
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cherubcameron · 2 months ago
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A/N: Personally if I was Sofia. I would have just left his ass. “Wherever the wind takes me.” Ahh forgot to add I was inspired by two fics on here for this. I forgot one but the other is inspired by @rafeandonlyrafe !! Just the beginning bit of it though!
“Woah, where’d do you think you’re going?” Rafe asks you, as you hastily put your clothes in a suitcase. You ignore him, focused on putting your stuff away. Grabbing a handful of hangers before tossing them into your bag. The clatter of the hangers falling off straps of clothing as you attempt to shove them in. Tears are pricking your eyes. “Hey, I’m talking to you” he says softly. Attempts too anyway.
“I’m going home.” You say, continuing on putting things away. Rafe eyes you, his brows furrowed in confusion.
“But- but you live here—
“This isn’t home.” You say, suddenly, you feel him grab you by the shoulders to face him. You don’t realize how fast you are breathing until he has stalled you.
“What’s going on?” He asks, his eyes trying to make your eyes meet his. “Hey, you can talk to me.”
Tears are falling down your face, your heart is breaking. And you don’t want to hear his voice. The one he used to tell his friends you were just a hook up and how he’ll never live with someone like you.
A pogue.
“I heard you telling Ruthie, that I wasn’t your girlfriend. That I was just someone you hooked up with. Nothing more. That you wouldn’t live with a pogue because you have standards.” You say, shoving him off of you and continuing on packing.
“Hey, hey, listen I—
You can hear him scrambling, the cogs in his brain trying to come up with something to say. To fix things. But for you, this was it.
“Don’t. Just don’t, Rafe.” You say, you don’t even look at him. Still staring at the suitcase.
You felt a harsh pull at your suitcase, it falls onto the floor. All your clothes spilling out.
“No! No! You’re not leaving! You’re not leaving me!” You look up at him in shock, tears are springing from his eyes. Matching your own.
“You said—
“I know what I said! Okay, I didn’t fucking mean it. I just wanted her off of my back.” Rafe said. You shake your head at him, annoyed that’s what he came up with as an excuse.
“Liar.” You say, attempting to reach for the bag again. But he kicks it further away from your grasp.
“No. You’re not doing this to me. To us.” He says, his head shaking. The tears spilling down his face. “I- I said some stupid shit. That shouldn’t mean you should leave. We should just talk about it, okay.”
“I don’t want to talk about it. I want to go home.” You say, angrily.
“This is home! Okay! This is your home!” He points around the room. “Here! With me!”
You’ve never seen this side of him before, you’re taken aback by it. Almost scared. The words won’t come, you’re shocked how different his words now contrast what he told to Ruthie and Topper.
“I’m not going to let you shove this under the rug. You can’t say one thing and then switch up. Own up to your shit, Rafe.” Your hands are shaking, you just want to go. Hug your mom. But he’s not letting you.
“I’m suggesting we talk. Because in no way in hell am I letting you walk out that door.” Your heart clenches. You don’t know what to make of this Rafe. Unsure on where he came from. If he was always there. Lurking, waiting for the moment to come out. Instead of convincing you to stay, he’s making you want to run even more.
“No, I won’t let you make me look stupid.” You pick up the kicked luggage. You’re on your knees, taking the clothes in your hands. You don’t even realize it when you let out a sob.
“Please, don’t.” He pauses, swallowing thickly. “Don’t leave. I didn’t mean what I said. I promise you, you’re what I want. You’re who I want to be with. Please.” He’s on his knees now too.
“Enough Rafe. I’m leaving and I won’t let you stop me.”
A guttural sob comes out of his lips, you’re peering at him, with shock once more. He’s shaking his head, his hands trying to reach for you. But you slap them away. You won’t let him make you look like a fool. And you won’t stay with someone who can’t respect you enough to call this for what it was.
“I’m done. Over it.” You finish packing. “I’ll come back for my other stuff later” you start wheeling the luggage away. He’s on you like a predator trying to catch its prey.
“I said no! You’re not leaving!” He shoves himself in front of you, blocking you from the door. You glare up at him.
“Get out of my way!” You scream, he looks at you, his eyes red from crying. His lips pouted.
“I said no. This is just a stupid argument over some dumb shit I said. I didn’t mean it, okay.” He’s looking at you like a love sick puppy. You can’t help but feel your heart strings be pulled. But you shake your head.
“It’s not a dumb argument. I’m breaking up with you.”
You don’t know how you do it, you manage to shove him away so you can leave out the door. You hear him sobbing in the shared bedroom you have. The only other sound is the sound of the luggage wheels, wheeling you away from him. From your doomed relationship.
“Y/n!”
If you want reader to forgive rafe:
Part 2
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yanderenightmare · 11 months ago
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TW: NSFW, noncon/dubcon, step cest, none of reader's holes are safe
fem reader
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Thinking about step-daddy who only married your mom to get closer to you... who thinks an unruly brat like yourself needs his firm hands and teachings to set you on the right course.
You can't believe what’s happening – can’t believe his words.
Your mind is caught in a frenzied state of denial and panic as he forces you down on your bed after you'd told him to get the fuck out of your room when he walked in on you getting dressed to go out, standing there in only a dainty set of panties.
You brace your hands against his broad chest as he bears down on you – trying to create space for you to breathe but achieving little else than if you’d been trying to lift a mountain.
He’s too big and too heavy – too strong.
He doesn’t even bother restraining your fists – not even when you start banging them against him. It’s as if he doesn’t even recognize the assault – busy burying his face in your cute cleavage, nuzzling the soft mounds with sloppy kisses and his bearded chin.
“Stop it!” You hic through tears – sobbing now that the pursuing events dawn on you, coming crashing down, wreaking through your brittle head at the feeling of your panties being tugged down your thighs – flimsy lace splintering before getting ripped off.
He disrupts your cry with a firm hand, taking hold of your chin – and you fall still in wait. 
“You' gonna let Daddy eat your pretty pussy out if you know what's good for you…” His lips brush yours with the vile threat while his other hand cups your bare cunt – whispering ruggedly, “Or I might just have to put you over my knee.”
You’re frozen beneath him – eyes shimmering with gloss, staring up into his impossibly dark stare – feeling leveled under the burden of his threat.
“What’s it gonna be, sweetpea? Y’gonna behave for Daddy? Or am I gonna have to use my belt on you?”
You stay still, and he takes it as your answer – smiling at you before placing a quick kiss on your cheek. 
“That’s Daddy’s good girl~”
Leaning back, he wrings his shirt off over his shoulders, revealing his bulky chest of curls and worn skin before throwing the article aside and looking back down at you with drunken eyes that give you shivers. His old muscles are flecked with age but no less brutal to behold – all intimidating enough to make you swallow thickly.
“You can cry out all you like, pretty girl~” He grins as he takes your thighs in his hands – lifting them, spreading them, then pushing them flat down against your chest – tipping your cunt up to his mouth. "A good girl knows how to scream." His breath is ticklish on your exposed sex. “But the only words I wanna hear come out of your mouth is – yes please, daddy – more please, daddy – and pretty please, daddy, can I cum?”
You whine when he licks a stripe through your folds – dark eyes glinting at the sound, chuckling hotly under his breath.
“Walkin’ ‘round my house dressed up like a little slut – teasin’ me all day long.” He gruffs. “Tch – this pretty cunt’s gonna get what you’ve been beggin’ for, and you’re gonna take it with a smile – understand that, little lady?”
Your toes are immediately curled, gripping the air for purchase as he buries his face in your muff. And he’s messy with it – spitting, then slurping it up again – splitting the lips to suck your clit, then pressing a deep kiss into it – tongue flatly running over the pearl, lapping at it like a dog. All with a heated glare – hungry like a starved animal – eagerly set on your face.
You squeeze your eyes shut to avoid it, lip caught between teeth – trying to stifle all moans.
But the folded position he has you in presses you free of air – soon leaving you to pant out like a silly bitch in heat – thighs wanting to squeeze shut but kept pinned and trembling in the harsh grip he has on them.
“Oh~ look at yah~ my little slut~” He hums between licks, a grin still slickly plastered on his face – mustache glistening with drool and arousal. “Must feel good to make you tremble like that – does my little girl wanna cum?”
You whine, trying to shake your head in denial – but the pressure builds whether you want it to or not – squeezing tight like a fist in your gut, desperate to unknot.
“Better ask for Daddy’s permission, or I won't be happy.” He adds, giving your thighs a pinch – hard enough to make you yelp – sure to leave bruises.
“Ah – no.”
You don’t want it – you curl your head to the side with a grimace.
You feel gross – reeling as his tongue circles your hotspot, unable to deny the tickle in your gut – recognizing the blossoming, knowing you’d soon bloom.
“Mgh," You whine. "Yes, please! I need – can I please cum?!”
“Call me Daddy.” He demands, talking into your cunt while nuzzling his nose against your clit.
“Please, Daddy – please, can I cum!”
Another chuckle makes you shake – almost impatiently – before he purrs, “Sure, baby – go ahead – make a mess~” 
He gives your clit one last harsh suck before sticking his tongue inside you, deep with a grin, while feeling you tremor on it, tasting your sweet release like it was a victory.
You throw your head back and your chest up – whole body quaking – trembling at the thrill pulsing from your core, zipping along each limb – leaving you feeling cottony and numb from the pleasure.
You pant with softer moans when it dissipates – still feeling twitchy.
Hooded eyes with teary lashes fall from the ceiling to his face – then regret it.
The shame washes away all pleasure – making your sweat go cold.
But if he sees it, he doesn’t care. “That was beautiful, baby girl~” He moans instead, eyes still keenly set on you.
You cringe, chagrined as he kisses your slit once more – tonguing the slick opening and humming at the sweet taste.
He finishes you with a sharp kitten lick flicking off at your clit – then releases your thighs. Pulling you with him as he got up on his feet by the edge of your bed.
“C’mere – on your knees.” His fist wraps your hair – tugging your head back. “Open wide and tongue out fo’me. It's my turn.”
Your brows cinch, feeling your scalp sting from the grip, making you timidly obey.
He groans at the pretty sight – looking so cute with that dewy glow on your cheeks – plush lips wet and welcoming – pink tongue trembling in eager wait of him.
Sighing with a leer, “Such a pretty little thing~” His other hand zips down his fly, pinched free the button, and let the baggy slacks drop to the floor.
Thicker tears pool in your eyes – a horrid burn of humiliation making your tongue feel heavy, kneeling beneath him with your mouth gaping – knowing what was coming.
“This is what you wanted, right – why you've been acting like such a brat?” He pulls your face against the pudgy bulge in his boxer – warm and thick beneath the black fabric with a ripe smell of musk. “You wanna be Daddy’s big fat cock to satisfy all your greedy little holes, hm?”
You don’t close your mouth – the fist ripping your strands from their roots was warning enough to keep you pliant.
“Come on then, little slut~” He started cooing, nudging the sack against your tongue, dipping inside the warm opening. “Show me how much you want it – and don’t look away.” The smile on his face made your guts fold. “I wanna see those pretty eyes beg for it.”
He gives your hair a sharper tug, forcing out a whine from your throat. It spurs him on, making him chuckle – watching your eyes tremble up at him – struggling against his bulbous crotch, cuddling it so cutely, making him twitch.
Rasping out, “Such a needy little whore~” while his other hand dragged the band down.
Your mouth sealed closed on instinct – eyes too – shutting tightly once his cock sprung free. Whimpering when feeling it slug on your face – you tried to turn your head away – but was kept close by the hand fisting your hair.
“Bad girl, I told you to keep your mouth open and your eyes on me.” He sneered, pinching your cheeks open with the other hand – hard enough to make you wince.
You peeled your eyes open again – with tears slipping down your face as you dropped your jaw for him again.
“Playing games like a snotty brat.” He hissed, rubbing his leaky cockhead over your parted lips – smearing his pre on them like lipstick while you shuddered. “Look at you now, mmh~ such a good girl for Daddy~ taking it on your knees.”
He dabbed himself on your tongue, and you had to keep yourself from retching – tasting the bitter salt.
“Mmh~ begging for it like an eager little cum-junkie~” He groaned, lolling forward, cock sliding over the bed of your tongue and hitting the back of your throat in a soft kiss – only with half his veiny shaft in your mouth.
He licked his lips and threw his head back.
“I knew you just needed a firm grip – knew you’d make the most perfect little slut fo’me~”
You gagged when he started thrusting, hands positioning themselves on his sturdy thighs, fingers digging into the muscles as he stuffed your mouth full of his length – weighty balls clapping against your chin where spit started frothing.
He held your jaw in guidance – keeping you steady to receive him.
Throaty moans grated your ears as he abused the wet warmth – looking down at you and how you struggled, unable to take all of him. It didn’t bother him, though – the tight ring of your lips sucking along his veins was enough to make him go crazy.
It felt so right to be throat-fucking your pretty little face; he couldn't believe he hadn't done it sooner – creating such a cute mess all over you – looking so hot on your knees for him like this, with spit and pre cum slicking your face like a young prostitute in the making.
You obeyed as best you could – not used to the size or tempo. You'd given few blowjobs before and never been facefucked. But you figured the sooner you could make him cum, the sooner all this would be over.
He thought about it, too. He could cum down your throat like this, make you swallow – drink his seed like a good whore should.
But the idea is soon replaced by the thought of stuffing your sweet cunt instead – feed your womb his hot load – wear your tight pussy like it was tailored just for him.
He popped out of your mouth, and you coughed before heaving for air – panting – nearly barreling over if it hadn’t been for the grip he still had around your hair. 
Pulling you up by it – his other hand found your throat, and your mouth was taken by his – kissed hungrily with teeth pulling at your lip while tickled by his facial hair.
“Mh- c’mere,” He groaned into your mouth – plopping himself down on the mattress while pulling you along by the neck. “Up on my Daddy’s lap, baby.”
He continues kissing you, with both hands slipping down to squeeze each asscheek, rolling your hips back and forth on him, making your wet cunt grind against the stiff underside of his cock.
You can’t help but make a noise as it licks your sensitive clit, rubbing over it in wet warm strokes. You balance yourself against his chest – hands placed on his muscles – pushing yourself up from slacking against him.
You’re still breathless, left gasping – too weak to fight it when he leans after you, mouth on your tits, sucking your nipples into hardened little peaks.
Your hands go to the hair atop his head, gripping the locks to steady yourself.
He chuckles at the pull, looking up at you while rasping out a filthy “Is my little girl excited to get her little pussy stuffed by Daddy’s cock?” with a lazy grin carved on his face.
And before you can deny it, he’s already confirming the statement.
“You must be – your little cunt is so fucking wet for it.” He cheered. Hand slipping between you to slap his thickness against your slit – rubbing himself between the lips with a mocking pout on his lips. “This poor little pussy, cock-starved and empty~ I know, I know, you want to cum on Daddy’s cock, don’t you?”
He lifts your ass up so that you’re hovering over the tip – using the other hand to angle it against your entrance.
Purring, “Don’t worry, baby~ finally gonna stretch you out nice and tight~ fuck you into size like a proper cock-toy~ fill you up with my hot cum~”
You shake your head and squirm when he begins to nudge the head inside – but both hands place themselves back on your hips, gripping them firmly enough for it to find purchase.
“There we go, ease on down it, baby~ get comfortable~” He coos, even though you’re sinking your nails into the tough muscles of his chest – gasping at the ill sting of the stretch as he pushes you down despite the tight resistance. “Oh, fuuuck – so wet and snug on me~” He sucks his teeth, snapping his hips up to bottom out deeply. “Take all of me, now~ let Daddy bottom out~”
His head hangs back – Adam’s apple bobbing up with his mouth hung wide in a silent moan while you wince – desperately wanting to lift off. 
But he keeps you seated – tensely made to cock-warm him while slowly adjusting to the size – taunt walls rippling along his veins, sucking on it as it settles inside you, molding you to accept its shape.
He squares his jaw, then gives a breathy hum that makes his beard dance – lifting his head to look at where he’s got himself sheathed to the hilt – his eyes lost in it as he sets a slow pace – using both hands to steer your hips, rocking you back and forth with barely any lift to relieve you – keeping himself lodged just as deep – cozily kneading your cervix.
“That’s a good pussy right there – wet and tight and all mine.” He groans, lolling you on him sweetly. “Isn't that right, baby? This pretty pussy belongs to Daddy, doesn’t it?”
He watches your perky tits jiggle for him. Leaning forward, he gives it a suckling wet pop.
“Every inch of this slut’s body belongs to Daddy, isn’t that right, little one?” He demands a little harsher, threatening the nipple between his teeth.
“Ye-yes…” You whimper. 
It’s been a while since you’ve been stretched like that – it’s been a while since your insides have been given any attention at all. When you do it for yourself, you mostly just settle for playing with your clit – happy with one orgasm to take the edge off.
This is touching on more nerves – lighting other fires – different wells – tapping all sources – you’re leaking juices all over him, practically sopping, sucking him in – all but your head overly ecstatic for the attention.
“You wanna cum again – don’t you, my little slut?” He murmurs knowingly, giving your ass a harsh slap while pressing his forehead against yours.
He groans as he picks up the pace – dragging a moan out from your chest.
You want to deny it again like before – but the pleasure allows little else than to be appreciated with heavy shuddering breaths.
“Remember the rules, sweetie. Better beg permission, or you’ll be punished.” He warns.
You spot a grin forming on his lips – sharp like a knife – before uttering the next words.
“Better say, please let me cum on your big fat cock, Daddy~”
You scowl, trying to sneer, “Fuh-fuck you…” but your voice weakens to a whine.
Still, it’s unacceptable.
“That’s not how you speak to your Daddy. Bad slut.” A harder slap cracks across your ass – this time, making you yelp.
Your hair is pulled before you recover – and you’re thrown off his lap. Placed with your knees on the floor and your face in the warm and sweaty seat he’d just been sitting.
He stands above you – using a hand to pin your wrists to the small of your back while another hard smack is given to your already throbbing rear.
“If your pussy won’t follow the rules…” He licks his lips, looking down at the sight of you bent over beneath him, sobbing fat tears from the abuse. “Then this ass is next in line.”
You flinch with the words, eyes going wide. “What?” Already shuffling uneasily, gasping once his heavy hand came back to pet the welted cheek, branded with his handprint, giving it a firm squeeze that had you wince.
“It seems you don’t understand who’s in charge here…” He chided, with a coarse finger settling on the untouched rosebud slicked in pussy-juice, rubbing it slow and steady. “But I bet fucking your tight virgin ass is gonna make that crystal clear.”
“No – please no-” You plead, jostling weakly with your remaining strength – but the digit enters you anyway.
“Oh, I’m sorry, sweetheart, but it’s too late to beg now – you gotta take your punishment,” He dismisses, digging knuckle-deep inside your butthole. “But to be honest with you… I was hoping you’d bite back like that.” He gruffs eerily at your ear. “I dream about putting your bratty ass in its proper place every night.” 
His finger twists and curls inside the hole, loosening it a little before skewering another two in. 
“Make you cry as I turn you into a good little butt-slut for me – get this sweet hole to gape for my cock to fill it up.”
He puts you in a headlock after pulling his three fingers out of your stretched opening – letting go of your wrists in favor of reaching under you to play with your pussy as he bullies his bulbous cockhead into the tight ring while you cry. With nails biting into your palms and your poor gushing cunt clenching around nothing.
He enters slowly, giving it shallow thrusts to fuck it open before feeding it another fat inch. Rubbing your clit between gritty fingers as he sinks inside you – burying his shaft within the snug walls of your tight ass as your hole gives in to his size, swallowing him up until he’s kissing your stomach with his heavy balls squeezed flush against your cunt.
“There you go, my little anal slut~ That’s Daddy’s brat getting taught her place!” He gives your butt another firm slap as he starts dragging out and stuffing you right back up again. “Getting her naughty ass spanked and propped with cock like a little whore~”
The fat arm squeezing your neck and the fingers swirling your clit make your head cloudy – even as your ass screams from the pounding, your cunt begs for the attention – milking nothing as it weeps with slick, running down your thighs into a little pool where you kneel.
“Aah- Daddy…” You moan through a sob. “Please…” Whimpering while you throttle his cock with your taunt ass, all but fucking yourself back on his shaft as he keeps rubbing your clit in steady patterns that have your cunt kissing the air. “Daddy, please – please let me cum…”
His chuckle is lazy and grating, feeling your cute ass swallow his cock all on its own.
“Y’know, only a real whore cums from having her ass fucked, right?”
You can’t help but buck your hips, shaking your ass like a slut as his fingers pick up the pace and rub your bundle of nerves in quicker circles. Begging, “Please…” 
“Oh, what a filthy little girl~ bent over like a mindless animal, fucked in her tight ass.” He patronizes. “Okay, my sweet little slut~ I’ll let you cum – but only after I hear you Say, please, Daddy, can I cum on your big fat cock~”
You’re too close to refuse. Desperation lacing your cute moans, “Ah – Daddy, please – mh-please can I cum on your big- ah – fat cock, please, Daddy please~”
He shoves three fingers in your cunt at that, curling them into your soft spot each time he pumps them inside, finger-fucking the sloppy hole until it spurts, making you scream while you squirt, drooling on your sheets like a mind-broken mess as your thighs and ass shake from the release.
“Good whore~ Remember to say thank you.” He mocks.
“Th-thank you – thank you, Daddy~” You mewl out cutely before he sticks all three slick-glossed fingers inside your mouth – fucking the tired opening as you pant out dewy moans around them, sucking them clean of your mess.
He keeps a steady rhythm, continuing to ream your poor butt until it's his turn to cum.
“Such a good slut~” He slinks out of your pummeled ass and slaps his wet cock against your face where you rest against the bed, all sweaty and dumb from your orgasm. “Come’ere, cum-baby, tongue out as you look up at Daddy~”
He smiles, smothering you between his fat thighs while his balls cover your face, pulling back to tap the tip on your lips.
“Here it comes!”
White ropes lash your tongue, leaving a bitter taste – bejewelling your face with pretty pearls that melt down your smooth skin like drying paint on a canvas.
He groans as he tugs the last few spurts out of his balls, wiping the messy cockhead on your tongue.
“Aw, I gotta have a picture of that. Daddy’s little cum covered whore on her first day of training~”
He holds your chin, rough-handling your jaw between strong fingers as he angles your face to meet the flash of his phone.
Grinning as he sing-songs, “Say, all my holes belong to Daddy~”
Your expression is still dumb, softly blinking up at him with one eye weighed down with his cum, simply mouthing the words back to him. “All my holes belong to Daddy~”
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♡ BNHA – Bakugou, Deku, Kirishima, Enji, Aizawa ♡ JJK – Nanami, Geto, Toji, Kusakabe, Shiu ♡ HQ – Daichi, Kuro, Ukai
♡ FEM x M INSERT masterlist ♡ GN x M INSERT masterlist
4K notes · View notes
satoruan · 11 months ago
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CALL ME DADDY w/Jujutsu Kaisen
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More: Fem!Reader, explicit content, daddy Kink, dd/lg undertones, implied 24/7 kink play, blowjob, praise, punishment, spanking with a paddle, blood, riding, cunnilingus, squirting
Featuring: Gojo Satoru, Ryomen Sukuna, Nanami Kento & Choso Kamo
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☾ Satoru Gojo  
The ‘Dad Joke’ Daddy, ’s very playful and dorky. He loves doing the stereotypical TV dad things like smoking cigars, having a world’s best dad mug, and reading the paper during breakfast. Your number one supporter, always at every event or promotion you have, and he’s the first to support you when you’re down. Because he has more life experience, he enjoys guiding you.
“Quiet baby, Daddy’s tryin' ta read the paper.” He hushes you with a firm pat on the head. You're on your knees under the table, with his cock buried as far as it can go.
“Sorry Daddy,” you whisper, taking his heavy cock out of your mouth. “I promise I’ll be quiet.” You look up at him expectantly through wet lashes.
“I know you will, love.” He smiles down at you before gently pushing your head back towards his cock. You happily shove It back into your mouth while he picks up his favorite mug and reads about the current world events.
“Such a good girl, always listenin’ to what Daddy tells you, hmm? I think you deserve an award.”
☾ Ryomen Sukuna
The 'Disciplinarian' Daddy, has very high expectations of you. Very strict with SO many guidelines and rules, it's almost like he wants you to fail so he has a reason to punish you. He’s a brat tamer who readily reminds you who's in charge. Likes to physically enforce his rules and never skips a good spanking. 
“I’m sorry Daddy, promise I am!” You sob as the wooden paddle comes down on your already bruised ass. 
“You didn't sound sorry laughin' and messin’ with me durin’ my meeting.” He grits out, forcing your hands to stay on to the side when you try to cover your ass. 
“Thought it was funny while m’ just tryin’ ta support us,” he brings the paddle down, ignoring your screams for mercy. “All you do is sit at home and’ spend my hard-earned money.”
“I'm sorry Daddy I won’t do it again.” You squirm when he rubs an especially sore spot on your ass that you know for a fact is going to sting for the next week. 
“Yea?” He slowly lets go of your hands.
“Yes! Yes! I swear Daddy, on my life!” Your sob of relief turns into a scream when he brings his hand down again. 
“What did I say about swearing things on your life, huh!?”
☾ Nanami Kento
The ‘Professor’ Daddy, he's so calm and patient with you. All he wants is to see you succeed. Likes taking you on informational dates like going to a museum or aquarium or just staying in and watching documentaries. He’s a pillar of strength, very structured and strict but also forgiving and nurturing. Loves giving you praise and seeing your face lighten up when he teaches you something interesting. 
“C'mon little girl, you can do it.” He encourages you from his place underneath you. 
“I can’t do it! ‘S too big, I’m so stupid!’ You cry out, covering your tear-ridden face from your daddy. 
He must be so disappointed, you think. 
“Hey…Hey, you can, princess, I know you can. Remember what Daddy taught you?” he pulls your hands from your face and places them on his big chest. You look into his eyes and nod.
“Yea,” he settles you over his cock. “Daddy knows he taught you how to ride, you just have to do it yourself now. C'mon perfect girl you can do it.”
With his praise you nod to yourself before slowly guiding yourself down his shaft. Once you reach the hilt you moan and smile down at him. He smiles back before nodding back expectantly. You brace your knees on the soft pillows underneath them and slowly start bouncing exactly like he taught you. 
“My perfect girl.”
☾ Choso Kamo
The ‘lowercase ‘d’ Daddy, the rare submissive daddy. He loves doing anything that pleases you and tends to be more forgiving when you break the few rules he has. He enjoys providing from a submissive mindset and being wrapped around his partner's finger. 
“Do you feel good, baby?” Chosos asks from his position underneath your dress.
“Mhm, feels so good Daddy, you always make me feel so good.” You moan when he goes back to eating you out. He says something else but it's muffled as he sucks on your clit, his fingers curl into your g-spot. 
“Right there Daddy,” You squeeze his head between your thighs. “M’gonna squirt Daddy, you’re gonna make me squirt!” You yell before releasing all over his face. 
“Fuck that felt so good Daddy.” You grin at Choso who’s come out of your now damp dress.
“Yea? You tasted fuckin’ divine babygirl.” He grins up at you. 
“Can you do me a big favor?” You blink innocently, already knowing the answer. His eyebrows frown in confusion.
“Course I will baby, what is it?”
“Can you lick my mess up off the floor, don’ want my parents to wonder why the floor is wet.”
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luna0713hunter · 6 months ago
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Lover,Please stay
CEO!Sukuna is a big shot,every women and men's dream. Sometimes you wonder why he settled for someone like you.
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The wine tastes bitter on your tongue as you take your first sip; wincing slightly. You've never been a fan of drinking,but when your rich boyfriend invites you out for some, who're you to say no? So you suck it up,and try to swing the drink around your glass instead of actually drinking it.
And it doesn't help that the liquor is bringing out all your doubts you've been having recently.
Instead,you try to focus on the man beside you; Sukuna is busy downing his third whiskey cause he's an absolute freak when it comes to drinking. His pink hair is out of its usually neat shape, probably because of the rough day he had at work; and you watch with careful eyes as he reaches his nibble fingers toward his tie and loses it while he throws back the last of his drink.
"you're staring."
You hum absentmindedly; hating how lightweight you are unlike your boyfriend. You've barely had a few sips for god's sake.
"and what if i am?"
But now, you're staring at the reddish liquid in your glass; your thoughts running wild in your mind. Because even if you want to; even if you desperately wish to, you cant ignore the whispers and giggles you hear from the tables near you. You cant pretend to not see the lustful gazes of the women all around you as soon as your boyfriend had stepped inside the bar.
And you surely cant not hear them giggling among themselves with nothing but vemon in their tone.
"oh my gosh,look at that hottie!!"
"hold on- is that...his partner?!"
"that cant be- i mean- look at HIM!"
"i know right?maybe he's just doing it out of pity or something?"
And you dont know if its the alcohol, or you own mind, but suddenly the bar feels too suffocating.
Too crowded. Too loud.
And its not really your fault; you've been having a shitty week, and you just wished to spend some quality time with you boyfriend. You didn't want to spend your Saturday night in a shitty bar,with some rich ass girls talking shit about you and your relationship.
And its the last straw when you hear their next words.
"oh screw it; I'm gonna hit on him! I'm sure he'd bored out his mind and need a break from his lame ass partner!"
"obviously they're not doing well; they haven't talked much since they walked in!"
So without a word,you suddenly stand up from your sit; slamming you glass hard on the wooden surface of the bar. Sukuna immediately looks your way, lips parting to say something, but you dont wait to hear what it is.
You just grab your purse and rush out of the door, almost stumbling to tables on your way out.
You think they might be laughing at you, but honestly you dont care. You just need some fresh air to cool your head.
And to stop the tears from falling on your burning cheeks.
You turn sharply in the alley just next to the bar; pressing your back to the cold wall behind as you slide down on the ground below. You hug your knees close to your chest as the first sob breaks through your lips.
God,you hate crying; specially because of what others say.
And you know; you know Sukuna's way out of your league. You know a hotshot like him can have anyone he wants,yet he settles for someone like you. You know all this, but that doesn't make it easier to hear it from others.
When you hear heavy footsteps inside the alley,you immensely start to brush your cheeks and eyes harshly; but your hands are immediately stopped midway by a pair of rough ones grabbing onto your wrists.
When you look up through teary eyes,Sukuna sighs at the sight of your red rimmed eyes and blushed cheeks.
"you're such a lightweight. How much did you even drink?"
"it's not because of the drink," you mumble, pulling at your hands to which Sukuna doesn't let you, "i didnt even finish my wine."
"then why are you crying,huh?" He sighs again, raising rough fingers to brush your tears away with such care that has you tearing up again. Sukuna 'tsks' and wipes your cheeks once more, ”tell me what's wrong."
You bury your face in your knees to avoid looking at him.
"you must've heard what those women said,Ryo. Dont play dumb."
"so what?"
You snap you head up.
"so what?! doesn't that bother you??"
Sukuna scoffs, shifting slightly. His dark eyes shine even in the barely lit alleyway,and you swallow upon seeing the look on his face.
He looks utterly pissed.
"why the fuck would it bother me what a bunch of good for nothing losers say?" He hold your chin and lowers his face until you can feel the his hot breath on your lips, "nothing in this world matters. Nothing. Except you,me,and us."
When your eyes water again,Sukuna sighs presses his forehead against yours.
"the world's gonna talk shit anyways; whether we like it or not. And i dont give a shit what other's think, because nothing will change the fact that i love you."
When you look up at him with wide, bleary eyes,Sukuna scoffs and pinches your cheek rather roughly.
"dont give me that look; I've said it before."
"Well!" You grumbled through pinched cheek, "you dont say it enough!"
An evil smirk makes way on his pink lips,and your face heats up when his fingers dance across your hips.
"then," you shiver as he pushes at the hem of your dress; taking hold on your upper thigh with a dangerous glint in his eyes, "guess I'll have to show it to you, don't you think doll?"
Your eyes flutter close when he finally presses his lips to yours; and right there and then,you know Sukuna never lies about loving you. After all, he's been always a man to show his love through his actions rather than words.
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gutghost · 1 year ago
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Imagine you get cheated on...BUT- the cheater turns kinda...yandere?
It felt like an awful nightmare. Bile rising in your throat as you looked at your lover - the person who you loved through their highest and their lowest, the person who you invested blood sweat and tears into, the person you promised yourself to - undoubtedly pressing their lips to another person's. It took a hot minute before you tried to step back, only for you to bump into the doorway, causing a loud thump. The two looked at you, one with horror, the other with confusion. It took you no time to turn around and make a run for it. A hiccup making its way out of your throat as you felt a sob start to shake through your body.
It's been afew months, well. More then few months since that incident, and safe to say you have been doing...fine. not great, but fine. You've decided to collect your things while your lover was away from the house, your friends and family helping you out as you found a new place to live. It was bare bones, considering you didn't take the shared couch, or tv, dressers, not even bed. But it was yours, and you've been getting by. You'd like to think you've gotten stronger.
That was until odd things started happening around your apartment. Things were being moved, shit you know you wouldn't misplace. Your clothes were going missing, much to your dismay. You barely had any, so to lose even one shirt was frustrating. Then roses started appearing in vases in your home. Seeing as actual items were showing up you decided to call the police, and when it seemed that the window to your bedroom was broken, seemingly from an outside force, they told you to invest in better security as they kept a look out.
Which is why you were going to the store so late at night, I mean, what could go wrong?
bad decision, you later decided as you looked at the scene infront of you. Your throat tight, bile rising, just like that night, the night you lost your true love. In front of you was your lover - now ex - looming disheveled, gasping for air as their voice broke, a small, unnerving, almost crazed look, crossing their features.
"My love, my everything, oh please-"
"Dont."
Your lip trembles as you step back, your look of surprise quickly turning into that of anger. They had no right to call out to you with such fondness, not after what they put you through. The pain and suffering, all due to the person who swore to love you.
A look of hurt crossed their face at the sight of you backing away from them, as if you kicked a puppy. The idea sickened you. Quick to try and close the space once more as they struggled to walk straight they would stumble forward. Their voice trembling as they fell to their knees, a whimper coming from them as they scrambled to grab at your sweatpants.
"Please - my love I beg of you, I know what i did was sin, I know - I've never been more sick in the mind then i was that night, oh I was so stupid, thinking I could ever so much as THINK of another woman! Even more so after wards, how could I think I could ever live without you??? You! Oh precious you, the sun only shines when you are near. Those next few weeks were torture my dear, I've never wanted anything more then to RIP MY SKIN OFF WHEN I REALIZED MY MISDEEDS."
Their insane rambling continued as you tried to shove them off, tears starting to stream down their gaunt cheeks. Had they been eating? You wondered as you tried to get them off you.
"I'm...i'm better now though! I've never been thinking clearer, I came to a realization life isn't worth living without you! But by then- you...- you had already left, I tore through that house to try and find you but you had already been far gone. I asked your family, your friends - but all of them simply turned me away, your LOVER - isn't that what I am? I am, aren't i?? They should've...they-"
You couldn't listen to this anymore. A disgusted feeling filling your gut. What did you ever see in them?? You quickly shoved them away, a small gasp coming from them as you stepped away, your ex lover falling backwards onto the sidewalk. A look so firey resting on your face it could rival the heat from the depths of hell.
"You lost that right. You lost it the moment you took that person into your arms, the moment you brought them into our home, the moment you pressed your lips against theirs."
They seemed dumbfounded, sobs starting to wash over their body as they tried to sputter out apologies. But you had none of it.
"Did you get a kick out of it? Seeing me suffer? Seeing me jealous as you placed your hands on that person's? Your lips on them? When i left did you just go right back to kissing on them? Fucking them??"
You spat at them, your ex lover crying their heart out as they struggle to breathe. Whether it be from guilt or heartbreak, you weren't sure. They shook their head as they continued to cry, trying once again to reach out to you, to hold onto you for that comfort you once so readily gave them. But you stepped back, putting space between you once more. A scoff coming from you as you did so
"Baby please don't do this to me, please please please-"
Their voice wavered heavily. Some part of you, the part buried deep down in your heart, ached at the sight of them so broken down. They looked ill, both mentally and physically. But what done was done. You quickly turned on your heels as you made your way home. Your ex lovers cries filling the street as he urged you to come back, to not leave him. To not abandon him.
Maybe some sick part of you felt good that you left them a blubbering mess, after all. They rept what they sown, did they not?
Little did you know, oh how blissfully unaware you were. They were gonna get you back, one way or another. They will have you back in their arms, with all those roses they left in your apartment in pretty vases all over your newly bought home in the woods, far from everyone.
They will have you be their's again.
that corpse that once used to be their side piece left rotting under the concrete of their basement proves it.
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archive-double-knots · 2 years ago
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@thcsevoices said:
“Tia, come look at this!” Pip turns his head in excitement, calling for the older girl. Catching a glimpse of her bare ankles, he quickly averts his gaze back to the ground in front of him, ears burning. He knew it made sense for her to tie up her skirt when they were in the woods, but up to her knees? No one around except the Wittebane brothers and the Devil to see, but it still seemed improper. Shaking his head, the young boy scoops up the shed snakeskin from the ground, holding it up without turning around. “Caleb says that snakes shed their pajamas when they get bigger. D’you think it’s still around here somewhere?”
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Thomasin was quick to respond to the other, walking over to see what he had found. Her hand comes up, tussling his hair as she leans over.
"Ooh, a snake skin." She comments, noticing a slight smudge of dirt on the younger boy's face. "You can keep that, you know," Thomasin informs him, licking her thumb quickly, and moving in front of him to try and clean Philip's face. Bending slightly, she's quick to rub her damp thumb against the spot, she continues to talk; "It won't last forever, but you can keep it for a few days. I think it's a common garter?" Finally satisfied with his face, Thomasin straights and offers a grin.
"Well, we can look for it, Pip." Thomasin smiles. She knows that the other girls back in the town would've probably screamed, or at least, gotten grossed out by being shown such a thing. But they were common a common ingredient in her mother's vials. Thomasin shifts, adjusting Caleb's musket that rested on her shoulder.
"We just gotta be careful, okay?" She glances over, catching sight of the older boy, relaxing a bit knowing that Caleb was still within sight. He was a better shot than her if something dangerous was to happen. "Remember, when you start seeing the brown ribbons around the trees, we have to turn back." After all, that's where her mother's protective boundaries ended.
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buggachat · 1 year ago
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The change of Shadybug and Claw Noir's costumes at the end makes so much sense, both thematically and lore-wise. The show has told us time and time again that the costumes that the characters wear are a reflection of themselves— how they feel in the moment, how they see themselves, the energy they carry. Of course their costumes would change at such a monumental moment of character growth. Of course Shadybug would want to look more like Ladybug, the version of herself that she wants to be. Of course Claw Noir would want to get rid of his spikes and look more like himself, to seem less intimidating, to let his natural hair color show. Of course they would want to change their names, to shed their association with their previous selves, where they were merely tools being used and disrespected and left to rot by the being they trusted, the being that saw them as nothing more than dispensable cogs in a machine. Of course they'd want to start fresh. This makes so much sense that there really is no alternate ending that would've worked, and if I were a writer on the special, I wouldn't change it.
that being said, FUCK their new designs claw noir and shadybug will always be claw noir and shadybug and he'll always have green hair and spikes and she'll always have space buns i don't care i don't care i don't care. adrien deserves spikes and marinette just looks so good in space buns ok i am on my knees sobbing and punching the floor
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princesschimchim1325 · 7 months ago
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Sing for us, darling~
Dan Feng and Yingxing want to hear the noises their wife makes as they pleasure her, to let it be known to the whole Xianzhou Luofu that she belongs to them.
(Or you get sandwiched between your horny husbands)
Warnings: 3rd POV, fem & afab reader, reader is an adult, reader got bomb pussy game, overstimulation, groping, double penetration in the same hole, creampie, vaginal fingering, Dan Feng has two cocks and a voyeur kink, Yingxing is 41 (reader wants to fuck those old men so bad), Dan Feng is a menace, Yingxing is a charming old man, they are both possessive and horny as hell, a surprise at the end. (Fūrén - wife, bǎobèi - treasure)
Word count : 1,904 words
This can be read in the same universe as my dragoness reader idea but can be read as a standalone.
This could also be read in the same universe as my mutual's @philistiniphagottini's "god-ish" smut fic.
Likes, Comments & Reblogs are welcome!
DO NOT REPOST, OR FEED TO AI 🚫🚫🚫
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Under the pale moon, the wind made the trees rustle and flowers sway. The cold breeze would make any passerby shiver, enough to make their teeth chatter.  Everyone had worn thicker coats and lit up their fireplaces to stay warm.
Everyone except for the lovers in the High Elder's residence. Said High Elder was lounging on an armchair, his face propped up by his fist and an ankle atop his knee, an air of haughtiness befitting of man his caliber and position. Dan Feng was facing the master’s bed, calculating ocean green eyes swept over the attractive forms of his spouses.
His husband, Yingxing, was sitting on the edge of the large bed, completely bare. His long silver hair lay loose and flowing behind his muscled back. Sitting on his lap, was a jewel far more precious than any stone found in the Luofu, their beloved wife. 
And what a sight she was.
Her back was pressed against Yingxing’s broad chest, her front facing Dan Feng. Her lovely face was scrunched in frustration, sighing as Yingxing kissed and lavished her shoulders with love bites and hickeys, his large and calloused hands groped her breasts. And what was one of the most erotic sights he has ever seen in his centuries of living, her greedy pussy swallowing Yingxing’s length and if he looked hard enough, he could see a bulge on her stomach as Yingxing stuffed her full. 
Their shared bedchamber was filled with the loud wet sounds of Yingxing open mouthed kisses and their wife’s lovely moans, or as he and Yingxing liked to call them, song. His own hard cocks were pressing painfully against his trousers but he paid it no mind. The erotic sight in front of him was far more important. 
“Enjoying the show, A-Feng?” His Yingxing inquired, a smirk on his handsome face. His large hands slid from her breasts, trailing down until they slipped under her thighs, only to suddenly spread them wider, jostling the woman on his lap and causing her to throw her head back and sobbed. 
“Indeed. Dare I say, your little ‘show’ is the most enjoyable production I ever had the pleasure of witnessing.” 
He rose from his seat as he answered, taking off his white blazer as he did. Perhaps their little game went on long enough, they started at nightfall and now the moon was already high in the sky. Their poor wife must be so pent up, being cockwarmed and teased by Yingxing, but being told she wasn’t allowed to cum.
As he neared his two beloveds, their wife gazed at him with glassy eyes, cheeks wet from tears of frustration. She shakily reached out to him with her left hand and he caught her midway, holding her smaller hand and leaning down to place a kiss on her palm. 
“A-Feng…A-Xing has been so mean to me..” she whined as Dan Feng kissed her neck, trailing up to her ear, just below her earlobe. 
“Hmm, is that so?” He hummed, smirking as she yelped when he bit down on a particularly sensitive patch of skin and licked it as a form of apology.
“Oh, fūrén, this was our dearest High Elder’s idea. I am merely doing my part in his script~” Yingxing laughed, placing an unapologetic kiss on her hair. 
The High Elder pulled away to take his long gloves and the rest of his imperial garbs off, piece by piece revealing a lean yet powerful build, with broad shoulders, narrow waist and hips. 
“...You scoundrels. How could you be so mean to your wife?” she complained, writhing on top of the Furnace master’s lap, unconsciously tightening in the process and causing the man to groan. 
“Desperate now, are we?” Yingxing hissed, hands gripping her thighs in a bruising hold to stop her from squirming. 
Dan Feng, finally bare, had taken his place between his wife’s spread legs and replaced Yingxing’s hands gripping her thighs with his own. His cocks standing proudly against his toned stomach. 
Yingxing’s left hand returned to groping her breast and tweaking her hardened nipple with his fingers, while his right hand trailed up to her smooth neck, caressing it before gently gripping her throat. 
Dan Feng rubbed both of his cocks against her puffy clit, using her and Yingxing’s combined wetness as lube before taking one of his hardness and lining it up her hole that was still stretched around Yingxing’s cock. 
Slowly, he filled her up, one cock rubbing against Yingxing’s and her spongy walls, his other cock was sliding between her puffy folds and clit. Dan Feng pulled his husband into a searing kiss over their wife’s shoulder, making a show of their tongues dancing. He could feel her tighten up at the sight of their display. 
Inch by inch, he slid into her wet heat, until he pressed up against her cervix alongside Yingxing. He pulled away from his husband only to kiss his wife next, equally as passionate. 
Their beloved wife was panting when he pulled away, a thin strand of saliva connecting their lips before it snapped. 
A few moments of silence before sounds of debauchery filled their shared bedroom. Each sensual roll of their hips had their darling wife keening, throwing her head back and bumping against Yingxing’s collarbone, tears of pleasure streaming down her lovely face. 
“Mmmph! A-Xing, ah! A-Feng! Too deep! Please, too deep!” She sobbed. How cute, yet she clung to them like they’re her lifelines. 
Their hips moved in sync, when one thrusts in, one pulls out and vice versa, making sure their wife is in the precipice of pleasure and overstimulation. Their cocks were alternating in slamming against her cervix, causing her to moan even louder. 
In her desperation to keep herself grounded, her hands found themselves digging into different parts of her husbands. One hand reached behind her to grasp and pull at Yingxing’s long silver locks, making him groan. The other reached behind Dan Feng to rake her sharp nails down his back, leaving thin scratches that are deep enough to bleed. Dan Feng threw his head back, moaning at the pleasure before hissing from the stinging pain.
Yingxing, never one to let his spouses one up him, let the hand groping her breast trail down her soft stomach before suddenly pressing down on the bulge caused by their cocks. 
“Ah! Yingxing, please!” How adorable, she was starting to slur her words a bit. 
Yingxing couldn’t help but chuckle, “Close, love?” 
Their poor darling, already so close while being lovingly fucked, their cocks overcrowding her poor cunt while their hands groped her breasts, the pudge of her hips, or pressing down on the bulge of her stomach in a dazed fascination of how well she’s taking both of their cocks. 
Their normally stoic and quiet wife reduced to an incoherent mess, moaning only their names. 
Both husbands groaned at the same time when they felt her tighten, impossibly tight. Dan Feng reached down to draw circles on her engorged clit, making her cry out even louder to the point he might get complaints in the morning even though his estate is built farther away from other citizens. 
“Mmph! Ah! A-Feng, A-Xing! Please, I’m going to–ah!” Before their darling wife could even finish her sentence, she came, or rather, she squirted right at Dan Feng’s abdomen. 
Her sudden orgasm triggered Yingxing’s own orgasm and she could feel herself being filled to the brim with the copious amount of his warm and thick cum. Dan Feng followed not too long after him. 
She hiccuped in pleasure as she’s filled again, this time by Dan Feng’s cum, warm and thick, and just as abundant as Yingxing’s. 
Once the cloud of pleasure had dissipated, she watched in mortification how her cum that splashed her husband, dripped down the planes of muscles his blessed body has. 
He didn’t even look mad, if anything, he looked downright pleased by the turn of events with his telling smile and the mirth present in his eyes. Behind her, she could feel the rumble of Yingxing’s barking laugh. 
“Oh, you did so well, darling. Look, you even made his other cock cum.” Yingxing cooed, nuzzling into her hair. 
She looked down and saw that Yingxing was right, Dan Feng’s neglected cock had cum as well, his spent dripping from her chest to her stomach. 
“Hmm, you took both of us well. How are you feeling, băobèi? Are you hurt?” Dan Feng kissed her forehead while checking her for any signs of harm. She could only shake her head in fondness. 
Dan Feng was the first to pull out, Yingxing following soon after him. She whimpered at the feeling of their cocks rubbing against her sensitive walls. 
Dan Feng watched in fascination how his and Yingxing’s combined cum dripped from their wife’s slightly gaping pussy, staining the bed and dripping onto the floor. 
Before anymore could drip out from her lewd hole, Dan Feng scooped the excess cum and fingered it back inside her, causing her to jolt and gasp
“Let’s not waste, shall we? It would be such a shame, no, fūrén?” He looked at her with such an infuriating look on his handsome face while his fingers played with his and Yingxing’s mixed cum inside her sore cunt. 
Yingxing’s large hands found their way to her breasts again, playing and groping her soft tits. All he gave her was a not-so apologetic kiss on the top of her hair.
“Ah! You-you scoundrels! Give this body of mine a break, won’t you?” their wife scowled but it broke into a pleasured moan when Dan Feng once again bit the sensitive part of her neck.
“Well, we did say we want you to sing, didn’t we, bǎobèi?”
°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°
Dan Heng shot out of his mattress, panting. Sweat dripped down his forehead as he tried to regulate his breathing, his heart beating so hard, it almost felt like it was going to burst out of his chest. 
He pressed his hand against his chest, his heart finally calming down. As he calmed down, he realized he had another problem, the hard on between his legs. Dan Heng groaned.
‘What the hell was that dream? No, that was too vivid to be something my mind conjured up. Was it a memory? If so, why the hell did I have a wet dream of Dan Feng and his spouses?’
He looked beside him, the woman sleeping next to him thankfully lay unaware of his dilemma. Her appearance had a striking resemblance to the woman in his dreams. He shook his head
He reached down to brush away the hair against her face, fingers slightly caressing her feathers. 
Well, whatever it was, he’ll deal with it tomorrow. 
••••••••••
Ren’s eyes opened, trying to adjust in the darkness of his room. He sat up before placing a hand on his face.
There was a moment of silence before the sounds of his hysterical laughter filled the room. 
“Of all the times, the memories of Yingxing decide to resurface now?” 
Ren laid in his bed again, facing the ceiling while his large and scarred hand dragged against his face, a smirk on his face. 
“Hah, I guess there is no escape for either of you. My bǎobèi, it won't be long until we're reunited...... And there is no place for you to hide, Yǐnyuè-jūn.”
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yougavememyopia · 21 days ago
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Tags: PT 1. 18+. Crying subby boy, angst ig, finger sucking, spit (a bit), choking, handjob
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"Are you not gonna talk to me?" Your kidnapper pouted, tilting his head innocently. He was good at pretending like the situation you were in was normal. "Come on, I thought you enjoyed last night..."
The events replayed in your head. You felt a rush of heat as you recalled the events. Your body was sore. Very, very sore.
"I'll wait as long as it takes, y'know. Just gonna sit here, and cuddle with you until you speak. Or you could talk to me now... Please?"
His side hug got tighter as silence grew. He whined loudly, burying his face in your marked neck. Your arms rested on your lap. You were not tied anymore. Free to do as you please. Not like you could walk though.
He had you dressed in clothes he stole from you before. They smelled like him. His embrace was warm, comfortable. Was it wrong to hug him back? You hadn't spoken since breakfast, trying to sort your feelings while he rested his head on your chest.
"Am I really that unlovable?" He whispered, but you heard him. You heard the pain in his voice, the shaky breath that escaped him. He was going to cry. Last time, it was out of pleasure when he was buried deep inside you, confessing his love over and over again.
He stopped hugging you, sitting up right. You shifted your position and looked at him. Those tears made you feel different. A bad twist in your stomach. Your hands gripped the fabric of your pants tighter, unsure of what to do.
"I thought I was doing something right. I was so convinced that after last night, things would be different. I thought everything would be different. I love you! I showed you how much love I can give. In every way possible. I'd do anything for you. Isn't that enough?"
You held in your sigh. Poor, delusional boy. Mistaking true love for an obsession. Kidnapping, forcing, manipulating, all in the name of love. You shouldn't blame him. Apperently, no one taught him how to behave normally.
"W-why are you looking at me like that? Please don't look at me like that! I can't have you hate me. Please don't hate me. Please. Please. Please."
He was sobbing loudly. He was always very loud. Very emotional. Very weak. He was shaking. Snot running down his nose and he quickly wiped them with his sleeve.
"I don't want you to leave. I don't want to be alone. I need you. I need you. I can't live without you. I can't breathe without you. I'll die without you!"
He grabbed the hand you reached out to him. Holding it with his unusually cold hands. His whole body was shaking, his other hand wrapped around his mouth to silence himself, his fat tears still streaming down his face. He seemed out of it, staring at the floor with wide eyes while you stared at him profile. Then he fell down to the floor. Right in front of the couch, on his knees, looking up at you. His hands clasped around yours as he started pleading with you.
"You're angry, right? That's all, you're just angry! That's okay. You can take it all out on me. I don't mind it. At all. My body is for your use. I'm yours. I'm all yours. So go on. Hit me. Slap me. Punch me. Spit on me. Step on me. Choke me. Abuse me. What will make you satisfied? Please, tell me..."
He looked up at you with glassy eyes. His tears finally stopped. He loosened his grip on your hand, and you quickly cupped his face. He sighed in relief, nuzzling into your palm. He was waiting. Waiting for your answer, your approval, any scrap of love that you'll give to him. He needed it so badly that he was willing to do anything.
"Use me. Degrade me. Control me. Just talk to me. Pay attention to me. Love me! Please! I'm yours. I'm all yours to use."
You grazed his bottom lip, his lips immediately parted. You mumbled to him to lick your fingers. Your index and middle rubbing against his tongue. He moaned, immediately lapping your skin. His mouth closed around them, and he sucked while keeping eye contact. His lewd look was enough to send a rush between your legs.
"Aah~" He kept making sounds as he licked between your fingers. His face twisted in pleasure. Laying his head on the soft plush of your thigh. He pulled away, and you allowed him to talk. "Punish me. Please punish me. I've been a bad boy, right? You can't just let me get away with it. You need to teach me a lesson-!"
He groaned out the last word as your leg pressed against the hardness of his pants. You sighed, feeling him go stiff. "Sure, I'll teach you a lesson."
"Mmh, ah.. thank you. Fuck. Thank you, thank you, thank you! I can't say it enough. Now please, please, use me. Use me. I'm yours. I'm yours. Yoursyoursyoursyours!"
You stopped moving your leg against his crotch, and he stopped humping it. Each movement was making him more excited, but he didn't protest when you stopped. You patted the spot next to you, and he obediently came back to sit on the couch.
"Let me tell you what's going to happen." You face him, holding his hands in yours. He squeezed them, and you assumed that was his way of ignoring the tent in his pants. "Things are going to be different. You're not gonna hold me hostage. I'm allowed to leave. But I'll live with you. And we could be like spouses or whatever you said last night."
His face went through several emotions. From excited, to confused, to scared, and back to happy. He opened his mouth, but you immediately shushed him. You covered his mouth, glaring at him. "You're not allowed to talk until after I'm done helping you with your problem."
He nodded. You felt him gulp as you stared at the bulge in front of his pants. Your own core throbbed. The thought of seeing him make those noises and look at you with that lovesick look on his face had you clenching your thighs together. Last night was all about making you come, so you never actually got to see him. You felt excited. "Let me see you. Go on."
He immediately pulled down his pants and boxers, his cock springing out. Precum was rolling down the tip, his legs spread wider, and his hands grabbed the sides of the couch. He whimpered as you stared at him for a bit. You started by spitting down on him, grazing his tip with your thumb before stroking his length. There was no need for it, but you just wanted to test out all the things he said before. He reacted by pushing his hips up. His thighs were shaking. His head fell back, and his back arched.
"Nngh! Fuck.. Aah, that feels so good. Thank.. you-!" The look he gave you was filled with absolute love. His words all mumbled up. "B-but why aren't you punishing me? I thought-"
You cut him off by speeding up. He whined loudly, hips thrusting up to meet with your strokes. "Let's take it easy right now, okay? Plus, we have plenty of time for all that."
"But you should punish me 'cause I'm about to come. Ah! Sorry! Sorry.. can't take much more. It feels so good! Ah, fuck."
You chuckled. "Come on then. Come for me." Your other grabbed his throat and squeezed it. His hips thrusted up immediately. He made a loud pleasured noise, his teary eyes fluttering shut as he finished. His stomach got all messy, as did your hand. You helped him calm down through his high, giving a few gentle strokes. "There you go. Good boy. Such a good boy..."
Your clean hand met up to stroke his hair while he cried happily. Whispering thank you's, and opening his mouth to clean your fingers from his release. Smiling happily at you as you messaged his scalp. His hair was so soft. You gripped his chin, leaning in to kiss his lips.
"You know if you do that, I'll get excited again.. And then you'll have to punish me for real."
You softly laughed, deciding to kiss him anyway. He responded by pressing his lips happily against yours. His mouth opened to allow your tongue in. Soft sounds escaping botn of you. Last night was repeating itself. This time, it'll be all about him.
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rebelssvy · 7 days ago
Text
vulnerable ✧.*
bakugo x reader
☆⋆。𖦹°‧★ “you drew stars, around my scars.”
⋆·˚ ༘ *
summary: fluff, somewhat sad. you get hurt and bakugo comes to cheer you up. you cry to him
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you felt utterly helpless. after the most recent incident, you were left on a bed rest. hurting both your knees, and back lifting a building off civilians.
you sat in the dorm, as everyone else was at school. left in silence and your emotions. your thoughts became overwhelming. falling into a slumber you your mind drifted off.
it wasn’t long until you heard a knock on your door. “come in..” you mumbled, throat dry and scratchy. you weren’t sure who would be coming in to see you. it had been days since everything happened and only your close girl friends dropped by.
watching the door handle twist and pop open. katsuki stood in your door frame.
“holy shit it’s fucking depressing in here.” he stated before flipping on your light switch and closing the door behind him. you didn’t want him to see you like this. you had been very fond of him since first year. slowly growing closer to him as you became adults, about to graduate soon.
“hi..” you croaked out. become very aware of your voice. you gave him a weak smile.
“hey loser” he said dropping a bag onto your desk and pulling the chair over to your bed. before he sat down.
“i brought you some snacks. maybe you’ll be less rude to me i thought” he said with a chuckle.
“i-i haven’t seen you.. in what feels like forever.” you said hushed. not able to generate much volume in your speech.
he took in your expression. you looked slightly unkept, he still thought you were utterly gorgeous. you had yourself hidden in your hoodie and blanket.
“they took m-me for surgery.. right after i passed out. i guess adrenaline can only get you so far..” you said as if he wasn’t aware. you didn’t know it but he had stayed at the hospital the entire time.
his hardened expression switched to one of love and care. he dropped his head before saying “can i see..” he looked sincere.
you nodded before sitting up, moving your blanket out of the way. you showed him your legs. all bruised and scarred, some of the pen from the surgery still apparent.
you awaited his reaction. wondering if he would feel disgusted or not. would this be the moment he decided he would never like you, or the opposite. maybe he would think i am strong. you thought
“i already think your strong, y/n.” you gasped, can he read your mind? “i can read you like a book.” he stated chuckling. you laughed with him.
you sat in silence before sitting up farther. “do you.. want to see my back?” you asked him. almost wanting a form of validation. for him to tell you your scars didn’t ’make you’.
“yes. show me.” he responded, still calm. you noticed a subtle blush on his face.
you reached around your back, finding the hem of your hoodie. before groaning. you were still in a lot of pain. unable to get it over your head.
“can you help me?” asking weakly. he didn’t respond verbally, he just smiled softly and brought his hands to yours.
for his quirk being so hot, his hands were often cold. you drew in a quick breath when he made contact with your skin.
he studied you, bringing your hoodie up over your head. holding it over your naked cleavage. the doctors still didn’t want you wearing bras for it could mess up your stitching.
once again you felt vulnerable. waiting for him to say somthing. he ran his fingers near your incision. you watched his face as he did so.
you felt your eyes gloss over. growing very emotional at his touch. trying your best not to cry, you let your eyes fall to your knees. staring at them instead of him.
“you can cry around me… cry baby.” he said softly, his eyes now on your face. without another word you started sobbing. all the emotions that had been off, switched on from his touch.
you sounded embarrassing, stifling, groaning. you felt every emotion at once. quivering, you whispered, “i’m sor-ry you have to see me like this.”
before you could say anything else he pulled you into a hug. hugging you like you could slip away at any moment. you grabbed onto him, dampening his hoodie.
the moment was just you, intimate. vulnerable.
·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:··:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:··:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:·
i think i’m gonna make this but with kiri!! why not loll. please give me asks. i’m beggin
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