#i despise this coloring but i love this moment

[bellesdiaries]

Wallflower, huh? Well, nobody's asked me to dance.

[luck-of-the-drawings]

"I think this is the most inhuman; and human, that I've ever felt.." MUCH CAN HAPPEN IN A YEAR. IN FIVE YEARS. A DECADE. imagine how much can happen in a century. just ONE (1). How will you grow? what phases do you find? even in 5 years, you will find patterns.

[kitasuno]

dating the love and deepspace boys | domestic moments

featuring: rafayel, xavier, and zayne x gn!reader

(´• ω •`) ♡ modern au! can you guys tell raf is my favorite..?

rafayel

a year younger than you. lies to everyone (including you) that he’s actually two years your senior. you only found out he was younger than you when you met his parents, who have his birth certificate framed. 

hates cats. despises them. they fill him with rage (fear). says he’s allergic (he’s lying).

“oh shit raf, this sucks! i guess you can’t move in with me.. i have cats”

“...you have cats?”

“yeah. 3.”

“i’m not allergic. i can move in tonight.”

chronically online. minoring in marine biology and majoring in annoying you. texts you over 200 times a day and if you don’t respond, he’s faking a horrible chronic illness. again. it’s amnesia on wednesdays, appendicitis on thursdays, chronic migraines on fridays… etc..

he has 2 followers on his private twitter. you and thomas. 

over 700k followers on instagram for some reason? he sells paintings on depop (he says it's depop but you’re convinced he sells them for heinous prices on the black market) 

cooks on occasion? has an apron that says kiss me im irish (he's not irish?) made you a tuna cupcake once?? 

pescatarian. not in the vegan/vegetarian way where he refuses to eat red meat but because he’s absolutely feral over fish. (is this cannibalism? he says its not)

lives in a 2 bedroom apartment with you but doesn’t use his bedroom. says your bed is comfier. turned his bedroom into a painting studio (IT’S for the black market you say!!) and sleeps with you. 

“raf,” you sigh. “don’t you have.. homework or something?” 

he sits between your legs, back against your chest as he scrolls through his phone. 

“yeah,” he says. you flick the back of his head because you know he’s smirking. “it’s called assignment: you. due in two minutes.” 

with his free hand, he reaches back mindlessly to grab yours. you sigh, fingers intertwining with his, a reflex as he leans his head back. his eyes meet yours and you can’t help but laugh. 

“well?” you ask, brushing his hair out of his eyes as he squeezes your hand. “what are the assignment details?” 

he chews on the bottom of his lip as he thinks, humming while his eyes wander across your face. he swings your interlocked hands in circles. it’s raining outside, the heater is on, and rafayel is warm like hot chocolate. 

“what?” he says, his cheeks a tinge pink. “you’re looking at me like that again.” a pause. he turns, his head now buried in your chest.

“just studying my homework.” you say, hands instinctively wrapping around his back. the laundry machine is running in the background, rain is falling against the window, and you faintly hear your rice cooker dinging in the kitchen. home, you think, is with rafayel.

“i can hear your heartbeat.” he says, voice muffled. “it’s super fast. you like me or something?” 

“i really like you.” you say, without skipping a beat. rafayel groans into your chest, sighing in discontent. 

“no fair. i’m supposed to be the flirter.” 

you press a kiss onto the top of his head and you feel his body melt into yours. the two of you fall into a warm silence, his breath steady as he traces paintings into your neck. 

“raf?” you mumble, eyes drooping. he hums in response. “did you pass your assignment?” 

he smiles. “with flying colors.” 

xavier

chronic napper. (yapper?) 

has 100 late assignments. failing all of his classes yet got into the top university in your country because he got a perfect score on his entrance exams. you thought he was a nepo baby (turns out he’s just.. smart?)

his procrastination rubs off on you… he is the WORST distraction and he knows it. so smug about it and uses it to his own advantage. will perch on top of you when you’re studying and kiss down your neck until you go to sleep with him. 

lives in the apartment on top of yours but is at your house most days, if not all. you ask him to move in.

“am i not already.. living with you?” 

“don’t you still have your apartment, though?”

“yeah..?”

 is that good for the economy?? is it financially smart? not at all, but he’s too lazy to move out and put his apartment up for lease. 

xavier sleeps with his legs entangled with yours and his arms wrapped tightly around your chest. the air conditioning hums in the background as you scroll mindlessly on your phone, dimming the brightness as you hear xavier stir. 

“sorry xav, did i wake you up?” you ask. he doesn’t respond, blinking the sleep out of his eyes as he glares at your phone. 

“xavier?” you question, swallowing a laugh at his ruffled hair and disheveled clothes. 

“phone down.” he says, voice raspy with sleep and an octave lower than usual. you raise an eyebrow at him. 

“can i get a pretty please in this economy?” 

xavier’s eyes narrow as he snatches your phone away, snoozing the device and placing it on the nightstand next to you. his lips ghost your neck, pressing kisses against your skin as he mumbles incoherently in the dark of your bedroom. 

“xavier-” you breathe, giggling at the sensation. “that tickles!” 

he nips at your neck. 

“bedtime. now.” 

zayne

3 years older than you 

he literally has his whole life together at 27 which scares you so much

“my credit card is your credit card” typa boyfriend

cooks. cleans. has a 9-5. you’re interning at the hospital that he works at (he’s head doctor!!)

you’re just a sweet little intern and zayne is the big bad monster!! everyone at work thinks he hates you because he’s extra strict on you. doesn’t give you any special treatment, ‘ignores’ you most days (but also slips meals into your locker and hands you heat packs on cold days in the hospital)

no one knows he’s dating you until one day someone sees you leaving in zaynes car. 

“oh, you carpool with doctor zayne?”

“huh? no, we live together.”

“you WHAT???”

he’s a virgo……. erm……

the two of you get ready together in the morning. his guard is down when he’s sleepy and he’ll cling to you as he brushes his teeth and does his hair.

you wake up to the cold night breeze, blinking the sleep out of your eyes and shivering as you scan your surroundings. you yelp as you meet the attentive gaze of your boyfriend. 

“huh? whuh? huh?” you splutter, squirming as zayne holds you tighter. he’s carrying you bridal style in his arms, his jacket around your shoulders as the two of you walk to his car. you see the bright lights of akso hospital fading away behind the two of you. 

“it’s two am,” he says calmly, placing you down gently as he opens your car door for you. “you waited for my shift to end. again.” 

you smile bashfully, rubbing the back of your head. “well, i didn’t wanna just leave you!” 

zayne clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth, eyebrows furrowed but gaze warm. he guides you into your seat, clicking your seatbelt in place. 

“you can nap on the way home,” he says, closing the door and sliding into his side of the car. 

the heater’s on already- courtesy of his super expensive electric car. he fastens his own seatbelt and hands you a hot tea and bread from the hospital vending machine. 

“drink up. doctor’s orders.” 

you grin before he leans over to press a kiss on your lips. 

“thank you for waiting for me.”

[superhoeva]

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐑𝐈𝐋𝐄𝐘 𝐅𝐀𝐌𝐈𝐋𝐘: 𝐒𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐎𝐋 𝐕𝐈𝐒𝐈𝐓

main masterlist | series masterlist | tag

⬩ pairing(s) gomez inspired!simon "ghost" riley x morticia inspired!fem!reader

⬩ warning(s) language, spiders, devoted husband!simon (seriously, he's absolutely obsessed with you!), pregnancy (mention), dad!simon, mom!reader

⬩ author's note spooky season might be over but it's always halloween at the riley house! saw an addams family gif a little while ago and had to go back and watch the sitcom version from '64. i ended up not being able to stop imagining simon in a relationship like gomez and morticia's–passionate and completely devoted to each other and their family! i hope you enjoy this as much as i did writing it, as there is much more of the riley family to come! (lovely divider is by @wethairjoel)

⬩ word count 1.4k

You’re uncomfortable here. Simon can feel it without even having to look at you.

The lights are too bright in the headmaster’s office, as are all the colors decorating the walls around you. No wonder his little Raven comes home with a frown that reminds him of yours and stories that make the entire house groan.

It’s when you shift for the second time, sniffing and rolling your stiff shoulders, that Simon places a warm palm on the back of your neck. The man watches you carefully as you all but melt into the touch, sinking against his hand with a soft sigh. It takes you a moment but you finally turn your head to meet his eyes, a silent thank you oozing from them in the quiet. His response–a squeeze of his hand–works well to settle you.

“Just a little longer, my darling,” your husband murmurs softly, not having to lean very far in his chair to plant a lingering kiss on the shell of your ear. He takes in a long inhale, the smell of you somewhat calming his frayed nerves. He breathes you in once more before kissing you again, this time on your jaw. “Then we’ll pick up our girl and leave this fuckin' hell they call a school.”

Simon’s lips drag nicely against you as he speaks. Slipping against you with light pecks, and staying there so long that it glides your hand into his grasp without you even noticing.

“I wonder what she’s done now. Hopefully something only a little unfortunate…” you sigh out, Simon laughing shortly against you as his mind fills with all the possible troubles his firstborn can cause. She takes after both you and Simon, he finds. Wickedly smart, fearless, and holds just enough disdain to make it the rest of the world’s problem.

Oh, your little Raven. Named after the blackbird that landed on the window seal the foggy morning you found out you were pregnant nearly seven years ago.

Neither of you bother to look when the door creaks open behind you, as Headmaster Archer is no one to be impressed by. A microscopic grin, however, cracks your lips when you hear his steps hesitate at the sight of you and your husband settled in front of his desk. It’s gone quicker than it came when you remind yourself where you are; in a little man’s stupid office for a reason you already know you’ll despise.

The footsteps resume after a quiet sigh, Headmaster Archer plastering an obviously fake smile as his greeting. He has to ease down in his chair, still not used to how harsh the pitch-black hue of your and Simon’s clothing clashes with the rest of the school.

“Mr. and Mrs. Riley… always a pleasure.”

“I wish we could say the same,” Simon rumbles back with an unimpressed look, the index finger of his free hand absentmindedly drawing swirls on the back of your hand. “Can we get on with it? ‘Ve got places to be.”

“Don’t we all,” Headmaster Archer chuckles rather nervously. The smile on his face drops into something uneasy at the displeased expressions on your and Simon’s faces. He gathers himself with a pathetic clearing of his throat and straightening of some blank, unimportant papers. He doesn’t even attempt to look at you, knowing that his bones will shake hard enough to shatter if he were to do such a thing. Instead, the headmaster settles for a few meek glances in Simon’s direction. “Alright. Well, I’ll try to make this as simple as possible; there was an… incident that occurred in Raven’s class today.”

Even with Simon still gripping just above your back, you grow painfully rigid. Your question leaves you, hot and quick.

“What incident?”

Headmaster Archer swallows thickly, still unable to flick his eyes your way. “It happened during today’s show and tell–”

“Look at my wife when you speak to her, Headmaster.”

The man behind the desk nearly jumps at Simon’s words. They ring darkly in the room, and the headmaster has to wring his shaking fingers hard to gain the courage to finally do as Simon commands. He doesn’t remember how to talk until an arched eyebrow from you has his voice croaking out.

“Tarantulas. She brought tarantulas–three of them, all as big and hairy as a rat–for show and tell. Pulled them out like they were nothing, then tried to pass them around. Her instructor was barely able to reign them up in all the chaos they caused. Children were crying. The adults were shaking. In all my years, I’ve never seen anything like it…”

The ramble trails off into nothing, allowing you and Simon a moment of quiet while the headmaster wipes at his face with a cheap handkerchief. God, you two make him sweat, and not in a good way.

Tilting your head, you peek over at your husband. He’s already looking at you, face reading ‘For fuck’s sake.’ Licking your lips, your eyes cut back to Headmaster Archer. 

“Not to be obtuse,Headmaster, but I don’t see what your issue is. All she wanted was to show her fellow pupils her favorite pets. Is that really so bad?”

“It is when the pets are spiders, Mrs. Riley. Not just spiders, but dangerous ones that, frankly, a child as young as Raven should not have access to.”

The headmaster has no idea where the things spilling out of his mouth are coming from. Maybe it’s the heat of the room making him a little braver. Maybe it’s because he knows he’ll see Raven’s spiders in his nightmares tonight, you and Simon standing along with them happily while they eat him alive. 

Regret soon washes over him faster than he can think. Even more so when he sees Simon, in all his dark clothes and scars and thick muscles, clench his jaw and shift in his seat like he’s thinking about hitting the man. Coincidentally, you’re the one moving first, giving the hand of a seething Simon a tender squeeze before you uncross your legs to stand.

You don’t have to move any closer than you are now to say what you want. The anger dripping from your tone is sharp enough to slice at him as it always does.

You’re all sinister smiles as you promise the man. “If you upset my daughter again, you’ll have a lot more than a few spiders to worry about, Headmaster.”

With that, you’re gone. Nothing more from you other than one last glare at the headmaster and a sweet kiss on Simon’s cheek before your heels click out of the horrid office. If Simon wasn’t so miffed, he’d remember to swivel his head to watch your hips as you go.

Unlucky for the headmaster, Simon does not swivel or admire. All he does is stare something horrid into the man across from him, eyes so hot they could bore a hole into the sweaty head of Archer if Simon wished it hard enough. 

The two remain in that position for a good while–Headmaster Archer doing all he can not to evaporate into a puddle of fear and Simon nearly wishing the man dead for making his girls upset. It’s around five minutes later when a small voice sounds at the office entrance.

“Papa, can we leave now? Mama’s ready.”

Simon rips away his glare, making sure to soften his eyes as he looks back at his daughter. He can tell she’s a little sad, mostly annoyed, as she cradles her tarantulas in a see-through cage. 

“Of course,” he coos without a second look to the headmaster, raising from his chair and moving to lift his daughter into his arms. He kisses her forehead, arms encircling her to ensure she doesn’t fall. “And you did nothing wrong, my girl. Do you hear me? Let’s just make sure to keep our pets at home from now on, yes? These silly little people don’t know how to appreciate them like you do.”

“Yes, Papa,” little Raven nods dutifully, Simon rewarding her with another kiss on the cheek and rub on her back. “Can we stop and catch crickets for my spiders on the way home? They’ve had a rough day…”

Simon huffs a laugh, glancing down at the cage of spiders with a short smile. He looks back up at his daughter and winks, exiting the office and leaving behind a shaking, sweating, helpless Headmaster Archer.

“Anything for you, my little devil.”

VOTE IN THE LATEST POLL (NOV 4-5)

© 𝐬𝐮𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐡𝐨𝐞𝐯𝐚

[kabuki-writes]

An Entertainment For The Gods

chapter: 2 chapter 1 | 3 | 4

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

summary: Through an invitation from the Emperors themselves General Acacius and his daughter attend one of the bloody Gladiator fights at the Colosseum. But this time it is not only the brutality of the arena that encaptures Geta and Caralla.

warning(s): mention of violence | mention of alcohol consumption | swearing | sexual implications | semi-edited | english is not my first language, faults may occur | please let me know if i missed anything

Note: -

word count: 2.5k

There was no bigger temple in Rome than the Colosseum. A monument to the Roman Empire, an architectural masterpiece as well as a slaughterhouse for humans and animals. They had to die for the amusement of the masses in the pale white sand and under the eyes of the Roman citizens as well as the Emperor's. You've never visited the arena before, it just wasn't the entertainment you usually seeked as you fancied the amphitheater and stage plays of comedies or tragedies. No one really died from a well-spoken dialogue and the stages weren't drown in blood afterwords. Your father was a similar soul with this. As someone who had seen war and death countless of times, Acacius developed a distaste for the useless killing, which he argued was the mere core of the collosseum's existence.

But while one would despise this form of humanity at its core brutality, other's simply loved it. First under Commodus the fights in the arena became more frequent, while Septimius Severus after him didn't change anything in that matter. Under Geta and Caracalla however Gladiator fights reached an all time high, especially those 'special' spectacles with exotic animals or ships. They themselves had an own Gladiator school under their wings, which was due to their wealth filled with the most skillful warriors and the best equipment, that it was almost unfair.

Given the fact that both twins enjoyed the performance in the arena and the bloody outcome, it wasn't surprising that they were frequent visitors. For the Emperor the colosseum had an own arena box with the best view over the inner pit and with two throne like chairs for each one of them to sit comfortably. It wasn't unusual for them to have guests here either and this time it was a special one. The moment Geta and Caracalla stepped out, the masses greeted and cheered for their Emperors, who - at least in Rome - offered them bread and games to forget the common sorrows of life. Both of them were dressed in the finest, colorful fabrics, while their golden laurel crowns throned on their heads. They waited for General Acacius at the balustrade to come forward, join them and speak to the people. He was still their celebrated hero, their triumph card, so to speak. It was an easy way to win the hearts of the people through a figure like Acacius, who was the ideal Roman.

After your father held a small, yet powerful speech about the braveness of the Gladiators they'll see today, a slave went forward to place a cushioned chair between the thrones of the Emperors. You hesitated a second, since usually you would be seated at the side of your father. "Since we've heard that you had never witnessed a fight in the arena befoe, we thought you might like a good view", Geta suddenly explained to you, before he sank into his own chair. "Please, sit down."

Your eyes went to your father for a quick exchange and you saw in them how he displeased this way of treatment, yet he nodded and you sat down. More and more you understood that the situation had a differnt tone in it. It wasn't mere courtesy why the Emperors treated you like that and given the way you'd read their eyes, it was more than clear that you've captured their interest. Usually any woman of the realm would fight for that privilege, but you had seen how your father acted in front of them, how worried he was when you first made your way to the palace - something was off. You knew you needed to pay attention and be cautious.

"Citizens of Rome, the arena welcomes you! Emperor Geta, Emperor Caracalla, we the people bow to your greatness and the mighty of our beloved Empire! Under the eyes of the sun the colosseum presents to you a spectacle like no other!", the high-toned, yet thunderous voice of the richly decorated announcer set the beginning of the show and drew all eyes on the white sand down in the arena pit, where a group of men in armor but with a limited equipment of weapons entered through a door from the Colosseum's catacombs. "First we present to you the brave Gladiators that will be our Theseus' today! They may not need to save their Ariadne, but they'll still have to face horde of Minotaurs today in an attempt to safe their own lives!" With those words a couple of other doors opened and six wild bulls entered the arena. Their massive and strong bodies stirred up the sands with every step of their big hooves. They may've been animals, but they had terrible weapons on their head with sharp horns that grew out of their heads.

Caracalla clapped with a joyful laugh. "Oh i love mythological pieces, even though they forgot the labyrinth!"

Your fingers nestled with the fabric of your dress in nervousness as you watched the men prepare themselves for the attack of the angry bulls, which were already pawing with their hooves. More than one set off to ran towards the Gladiators and given the fast but powerful movements of those animals, it didn't take long until the first fighter got overrun by them and another one faced the horns that drilled themselves like spikes into his torso, where blood spilled like a waterfall. The other fighters tried their best to ran or face the bulls with the few weapons they'd been given. One of them even striked down a beast by pressing his sword into its neck, when it was running towards him. You watched the spectacle with a neutral, yet pale face, while the Emperors seemingly enjoyed the show. Geta quickly noticed the way you followed the happenings down in the arena and leaned towards you.

"Are you not entertained, y/n ?", he asked you in a low voice, still loud enough to overcome the cheerings of the crowd. Your eyes went to him, facing the deep blue of his own, while you tried to put on a mask of apathy. "It is hard for me to understand, why useless killing is viewed as entertainment, I'm afraid," you answered, but it just got you an amused smirk in return.

"Oh it is not useless. You see, nothing is as entertaining as humanity itself. What lies more in our human nature than violence, power and the survival of the strongest? Without that, your father wouldn't be able to win all his great victories and our father would not have been able to secure the Roman Empire after the weak reign of the senate."

"And yet Emperor Marcus Aurelius believed that true strength isn't born in violence, but in mindfulness and kindness. The ability to speak, think and therefore to thrive for something higher than mere survival, is what distinguishes us from animals," you responded in a clear, settled tone. This sudden response surprised Geta clearly as his eyes widened and his fingers tensed up. Even Caracalla's eyes had left the arena for a moment and were locked at you. Even though he followed the fight down there, one of his ears had catched every word you'd said. What a sweet, naive woman you were... it made this whole moment even more interesting.

The corners of Geta's mouth twitched and at first you weren't able to tell if he found your words disrespectful or not. In fact, he'd not expected such a bold answer from a woman, especially not against an Emperor. And even though he wouldn't agree with you, it proved him right, that you were not a simple-minded girl. Naive maybe, but not dull.

"Interesting thought, my dear. But would you recite the words to one of these brave warriors down there too? Who will ll earn their freedom, if violence keeps them alive long enough? We offer them a precious gift, and in return they entertain us."

Your eyes went to the pit again, which was mottled in deep red blood now with only one man and one bull remaining. The moment was intense as both animal and human watched each other with intensity, before the bull stormed forward and the speer of the Gladiator, who waited for the perfect moment, hit his opponent. The massive body fell to the ground and the people cheered in Ecstasy. Geta and Caracalla clapped with admiration for the celebrated Gladiator, as he sunk to his knee and bowed to them.

The next round began after the exhausted and wounded 'hero' stumbled through one of the doors, back into the darkness of the catacombs, before he was replaced by a bigger group of Gladiators, who now had to face armed chariots. Their opponents wore the armory of old Sparta while they teared down one after one with their arrows. You leaned back in silence, watched by Caracalla, whose eyes were taking in her side profile for quite a while now. Even though he loved the fights down there, the blood, the violence... you encaptured him more right now. Your stern face, which carried a deep displeasure for this, while you tried so hard to hide it, it was captivating.

Everyone, even his own twin tend to underestimate Caracalla. Even though he was born a couple of minutes earlier than Geta and was therefore technically older than him, his stature was smaller and he wasn't as tall as his brother. This was accompanied by the fact that he enjoyed the pleasantries the god Bacchus had to offer him: wine, music, arts and sex - even more than Geta did. Together with his rather impulsive way of acting, it often led to the false thought that the more capable brother of them was Geta. Oh, Caracalla hated this, it was a misinterpretation weaved like a thread through his whole life. Because he had a gift, he could read people and together with his extensive web of information sources and spies within the city of Rome and beyond, he had a power that lied in the dark. And it was a preparation he did on purpose after he'd learned about the plot that was once set against Emperor Commodus. Some would've said it was paranoia, maybe it was, but he would call it 'preparation'. Nonetheless it came with the pleasant side effect of knowing a lot about the people around him.

"I've heard that you rather choose the theater over the arena", he said with a soft, yet unreadable smile on his lips. "You're a dreamer, aren't you?"

As you heard his voice next to you, your eyes quickly turned to him. "There is nothing wrong with dreaming, my Emperor...", you answered and he nodded quickly as if he'd hoped for that answer. Caracalla even grinned, his golden tooth gleaming in the light. "No, not at all." My Emperor. The way you've said it with your eyes looking at him. It electrified him, so much so that the cheers of the crowd almost faded in the background. You'd faced the pit and the fighters again, but he was still staring at you.

"Which play?"

"Octavia," the name almost shot from you mouth.

"And you consider yourself to be?"

"Octavia. And you?" You didn't even expected him to give you an answer on that, but meanwhile Caracalla's grin grew wider.

"Nero," he said just as fast as you'd answered before.

Your eyes instantly went back to the Emperor, whose eyes were now focused on the deadly fight between a Gladiator and a chariot rider. He couldn't hold back a chuckle, while he watched how the man pushed his sword through the neck of his opponent, ripping off his head.

Nero.

"Why?", you suddenly asked, this time it were your eyes, that watched him.

"I cannot blame him for setting himself free." His answer was almost like a whisper, yet you heard every word. It was a very unconventional way of interpreting the mad Emperor, one she herself would even despise, if he wouldn't seem to be so certain of it. It meant something more.

The arena fight slowly came to an end, when only to oppontents were fighting for the right to claim the victory. Nearly all of the Gladiators and chariot riders were dead, their bodys laying in the pale sand and drowining it with their blood, a weird composition of death that accompanied your questions about Caracalla's answer.

After a final hit, one of the men went down on his knees. He was wounded, severely, and he now felt the tip of a sword against his neck. He surrendered and the gods had to decide what will happen with him. One of the Gods was Geta, who stood up from his chair and approached the balustrade, while the crowd called for a decision. The Gods need to decide, yet Geta suddenly turned his head to you. "What do we say,...? y/n, should he live or die?"

Your face grew even paler than it already was, your fingers were almost digging themselves into the armrests of your chair. You felt a thousand eyes on you, even though it was only Geta and Caracalla watching you, as well as the eyes of your father from behind. The Gladiator waited, while his opponent's arm was cut off and his head was bowed down as if he awaited death. And the crowd screamed and screamend. Death, Death, Death, Death, Death.

It rang in your ears, you didn't want to make this decision. But the moment you faced the Emperor, just as you opened your mouth, Geta simply bowed his thumb down - Death.

And the sword went down. Death.

The head dropped in the sand followed by the body, the cheers errupted in the arena, screaming the name of the victorious Gladiator. But you just stared into the nothingness that was in front of you, while you bit your tongue to the point of pain. "Don't pain yourself about this, my dear. There was only one answer anyways," Geta said while he suddenly reached out for your hand and kissed your knuckles, before he took his glass of wine. You didn't move, you couldn't.

Caracalla stared at this scenery and his fingers were shaking as his eyes darkened. The intense urge came up his mind: To simply take his brother and throw him from this box into the pit, his neck breaking from the impact. Those thoughts sometimes came and went, but they got more intense every time he saw Geta interacting with you. And this interaction hit a new high point in him that was only interruped by your form the moment you stood up.

"My Emperors, it was a pleasure to join you, but i need to leave now...", you said in a tone that tried so hard to be polite and not carry any emotion, before you turned your back and quickly stepped out of the imperial arena box, followed by your father General Acacius, who bowed and excused himself in an equally neutral tone.

Both Geta and Caracalla watched them leaving, before the taller one of the twins took a deep sip of his wine. "She'll learn to love it sooner or later."

______________________________

Tags:

@barcelonaloverf1life @naysha140 @shinnerslighttt @mmkkzz @ange-olras @earfq0ake @honey-eyed-munson @koshkahhh

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If you liked my fic, please feel free to like, reblog and leave a comment. I am always happy to hear your thoughts <3

[rafescvntyclubgf]

𝓻𝓪𝓯𝓮𝔂𝓼𝓬𝓾𝓻𝓽𝓪𝓲𝓷𝓫𝓪𝓷𝓰𝓼

𝙽𝚊𝚞𝚐𝚑𝚝𝚢 𝙻𝚒𝚜𝚝 | 𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐦𝐚𝐬 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒 𝐃𝐫𝐚𝐛𝐛𝐥𝐞𝐬

𝔻𝕒𝕪 𝕊𝕖𝕧𝕖𝕟: ℂ𝕒𝕦𝕘𝕙𝕥

𝚃𝚘𝚙𝙶𝚞𝚗!𝚁𝚊𝚏𝚎 𝚡 𝙼𝚊𝚢𝚋𝚊𝚗𝚔’𝚜𝚂𝚒𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛!𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

warnings: Skype sex, mentions of a sex tape, mutual masterbation, use of sex toys, cum tasting, getting caught, swearing, name calling, pet names, long-distance relationship, ownership kink, dirty talk, praise

📖 Spoilers: All of my asks got deleted 😭💕, so I’m not sure who requested this, but thank you! The premise is that you have been secretly dating Rafe for 6 months, and you finally get caught.

Masterlist

Reader’s POV:

The first time, you told yourself it was a mistake. A one-time-thing. A moment of weakness between you and the man that everyone seemed to hate for one reason or another. After all, Rafe Cameron was trouble—a notorious fuckboy, arrogant, abrasive, and rude, just to name a few of his negative attributes that got shit-talked in the château anytime his name got brought up. But you couldn’t stay away…

There was just something about him—the quiet moments. The moments that he reserved for you and you alone. When he let his guard down. And now here you are, six months into a secret relationship with the man your brother and friends despised. Exchanging I love you’s with your best friend's brother, putting that friendship at risk, but it was worth it for him.

You sit in front of your laptop, crisscross on your bed, your phone in hand as you scroll social media, trying to distract yourself. Rafe was gonna call at 8 o’clock sharp— he was rarely late. His new lifestyle making him a little more punctual than usual.

You steal glances at yourself in the reflection of your laptop, unsure of how to feel as you see yourself. The two of you usually talk on FaceTime, leaving you feeling slightly distorted from the lens. But it would be worth it. You couldn’t wait to watch that little video you sent him earlier. The video you captured on your phone before he left for pilot training school— the video you took for moments just like this.

8:30… You look at the time in the corner of your laptop, feeling your heart flutter. You could hear the muffled sound of the movie playing from behind the door, thankful that they were still committed to relaxing instead of going out, just hoping one of them wouldn’t knock on the door for something from the room; your fingers crossed that Rafe would show up any second so you could at least have 30-minutes and the group wouldn’t question why your “online class” was going so long.

Ding. Your eyes brighten as you hear the unfamiliar notification, making butterflies swirl in your stomach as you see his beautiful face pop up on your screen. He’s breathless, the fringe of his toffee-colored hair falling messily across his sweat-glistened forehead. Rafe, most likely running from the flight line all the way to his apartment.

He huffs out a deep breath through a wide smile. His Navy flight suit hangs half-open, revealing his skin-tight shirt underneath— just a glimpse of his gold chain poking out the top. He lowers his head, catching his breath, giving you the perfect glimpse of his sharp jawline. His beautiful blue eyes rest on the screen as he runs his fingers through his hair, pushing it back in place.

“Hey, baby,” he pants as a smile tugs on the corners of his lips. “I kept you waitin’, princess. I’m sorry.” He softens his voice for you.

“It’s alright, handsome,” you say sweetly as you lean in a little closer— your heart already racing for the boy on the other side of the screen, somehow making you feel giddy on the other side of the country as always, without fail.

Rafe leans back on his couch, adjusting the camera slightly, lifting his phone with a smile. “Got that video you sent me, sweetheart.”

”You did,” you giggle as you bite your lip, watching his smile spread a little wider.

”Mhmm… At lunch. In front of everyone. And I had to act like I wasn’t lookin’ at the sexiest thing I had ever fuckin’ seen…” He drawls, his voice husky and warm. “Couldn’t concentrate on shit for the rest of the day.”

“I’m sorry, baby,” you breathe, and you do mean it, knowing the risks of his position.

“Don’t be… No way you’re apologizing for that, princess. You are the best distraction.” You feel your cheeks warm up at the compliment and the look in his eyes. Your mind races away to what the two of you would do if you were there right now. “You’re thinkin’ about it too, aren’t you?” Rafe smirks as he tilts forward, moving closer to the screen, resting his elbow on his thighs.

Rafe’s arm muscles flex unintentionally—his gold chain tumbling out of his shirt, dangling from his neck, bringing you back to all those moments you were underneath him, watching it swing in front of you with each thrust.

“I am… You wanna watch it with me?”

”Oh my god,” he laughs lustfully as he pulls the rest of the top of his flight suit off. “Yeah, baby… I wanna watch the video of me pounding into that sweet pussy of yours,” he chuckles sinfully. “Let me see your outfit first. Yeah?”

“Mhmm… Yeah. Only if you take off your shirt for me,” you counter, watching the corners of his eyes crinkle as his smile grows.

“Yes, ma'am,” he hums as he stands up from the couch, pulling his uniform the rest of the way down his thighs. He sits on the edge of the couch, ripping his shirt over his head, making you dizzy.

“Rafe…” You swoon as you crawl a little closer to the camera to get a better look; your satin cami draws away from your breasts, giving him a taste of your tits underneath. “You look so good, baby.” He lounges back on the couch in his white Calvin Klein boxers, his abs even more cut than the last time you saw him, his big, broad chest on full display.

“Take it off, princess,” he rasps with a subtle dominance.

You step off the bed, letting him see the satin cami and shorts he had sent you a few days back. You turn to the side slightly as he drinks you in, the high-cut sides showing off your thighs and hips just right, the draping on the sides of the top showing off the curves of your tits. “Fuck, you look good,” he praises, and you smile. You lift your fingers as he watches you carefully, brushing off one strap, then the other, letting the top fall around your hips before pulling it all the way off, leaving you in his favorite lace panties.

Rafe’s eyes roll back at the sight of you, a hungry moan falling from his perfect lips. You watch his hands squeeze his muscular thighs, fighting back the urge to palm his thick bulge, but the desire is too strong. You loop your fingers around your panties, and it’s all over. Rafe’s lip tucks between his teeth as he rests his hand against his cock, already rock-hard, rubbing himself over the thin white cotton.

“You ready, Daddy?” You ask, using that pet name that drives him insane as you walk toward the camera.

“Love when you call me that. Fuck, you’re drivin’ me crazy,” he sighs. You grab your phone, looking at the thumbnail of the video you captured. Lifting your finger, you push it as Rafe does the same.

You can hear the two of you on Rafe’s end, frowning at your phone when nothing comes out. You turn your phone to the side, checking if it is silenced, pressing the volume button rapidly, not wanting to ruin the moment.

“You havin’ trouble, baby?” Rafe asks, tilting his head in concern.

“Yeah… I’m sorry,” you mutter frustratedly.

“WHAT THE FUCK!” You hear your brother’s voice bellow from outside the door, feet pounding down the hall the next moment. JJ’s fists bang against the entry, bolts rattling with the impact, sending a surge of panic through you.

Your eyes widen in horror as you check the settings on your phone, the Bluetooth icon illuminated and connected to the living room speakers. Shit. Shit. Shit.

“Rafe, everyone heard,” you whisper, seeing the panic in his eyes too.

You turn the laptop towards the wall as JJ continues to fight against the wooden door, threatening to break it down. You scramble around your room, finding a random hoodie before opening the door.

“JJ, it’s fine! I-” You pant as he barges in, his face beet-red with anger.

“Who the fuck are you talkin to, huh? ‘Cause I know it ain’t Rafe Cameron,” he spits as he scans the room. His frantic eyes look down at your phone, catching a quick glance at the paused video. His eyes slam shut in disgust before his expression twists in disbelief. “That video,” he points at your phone. “Everyone fuckin’ heard it… E v e r y o n e.”

Your body trembles with adrenaline as you look back into his wild blue eyes. “I’m so sorry,” you stammer as the blood drains from your face. Your embarrassment peaks as you look over JJ’s shoulder, seeing your friends gathered in the hall.

There’s a slight rustle from your computer—the most minor sound—but JJ immediately catches it. His eyes narrow on your laptop, and he walks toward it slowly. Turning around, he sees your boyfriend in a Navy hoodie and white boxers, confirming all his fears.

”You’ve gotta be kiddin’ me,” JJ snarls. “You’re fuckin’ with him? HIM? Are you serious right now?”

“JJ,” Rafe calls him firmly from the other end of the computer. “You gotta back off, man.”

JJ sucks his teeth and smiles maniacally at you before turning it around. “Stay away from her, Rafe,” JJ snaps, his voice deep and dangerous.

“She’s my girlfriend, Maybank. I’m not gonna do that,” Rafe keeps calm for the moment.

“Your girlfriend? My sister is your girlfriend? What the fuck is happening right now?”

“Calm down,” Rafe warns but it does nothing but piss him off more.

“You’re tellin’ me to calm down? Do you know who you are? You’re a piece of shit, man. She’s not just some Pogue girl you can collect, alright?”

“I’m not like that with her,” Rafe shoots back. “I’m good to her. I love her.”

JJ scoffs and laughs as he leans into the camera. “Like hell you do. You treat everyone like shit—”

“Not her,” Rafe stops him before he can finish. “She’s different. And I’ve been different because of her. This ain’t the same shit, man. We’ve been together for months, and she didn’t want to say anything because she knew this shit would happen and so did I.”

JJ hesitates, his jaw coiling, the weight of Rafe’s words hanging heavy in the air. JJ looks back at you, a silent conversation shared as you affirm Rafe’s words with a glance.

“I need to know you’re alright…”

“I love him, Jayj,” you reply, loud enough for Rafe to hear, too. “He’s really good to me-” JJ turns toward Rafe, not wanting to hear more than he has to.

“If you hurt her, Rafe, you’re done. Got it?” He snaps. “I don’t give a fuck where you are or how far away it is, I’ll fucking kill you.”

“I’m not gonna hurt her,” Rafe assures. As soon as the last word leaves his lips, JJ storms out.

You run toward the door, taking a deep breath as you relax your back into it, feeling more relieved in this moment than you had in months, even after everything that’d just happened. 

You smile weakly, looking toward the camera as you walk toward Rafe.

“Well, that could have gone worse,” you respire.

He hangs his head, nodding in agreement. “Considering it’s him and I, I’ll take it as a win, princess. No more sneakin’ around.”

“No more sneaking around… Finally,” you throw your voice, inviting Rafe back to the previous conversation with a look.

“Shit, you’re still up for it, baby?” He laughs as he reaches for the bottom of his sweatshirt, pulling it off, revving you up even more.

“I am,” you breathe, feeling the weight lifted off your shoulders.

“So you’re tellin’ me I get all night with you, princess? Now that everyone knows you’re mine, I get you whenever I’d like. Yeah?”

“Anytime you'd like,” you whisper as you tug your sweatshirt over your head.

“It’s about time…” He licks his lips as he looks back at you.

“I want you so bad, Rafe,” you sigh. He pitches his hips, pulling his boxers down as he looks at you, his hard dick slapping against his tanned skin.

Rafe lets out a throaty moan as he wraps his fingers around his cock, hissing at the sudden contact, tugging a few times before circling his thumb on his tip, spreading around his precum as you’d do with your tongue.

“Just wanna look at you, sweetheart. We don’t need that video. Aight? Not yet. I can't take my eyes off you. I want you to focus on me… Can you do that, princess?”

You climb on the bed, moving closer to the screen. “I can do that for you, Daddy.”

“Mpfhh…” He grunts as he fists his cock a little quicker, dreaming about all the things he’d do to you. “If I were there, I’d be buried in your pussy—start slow, get you off a few times with my mouth, pushing my tongue deep before stuffing you full of my cock, princess.”

“I don’t get to suck you off?” You ask breathily as you arch your back for him, showing off your ass.

“You want that, baby?” He asks through a smile.

“I need that, Rafe,” you flirt as you shift slightly, reaching under your pillow to grab your pink, sparkly toy.

“Fuck yeah. I want it all. I want you here,” he chuckles. “Baby… Shittt,” he buzzes as he realizes what you have in your hand, yet another gift from him.

You tap the tip against your pillowy lips before laying out your tongue, doing the same as his breathing quickens, his opposite hand gripping his thigh tight.

“Jesus fuck… Put it in your mouth, baby. All the way in. Suck on it for me,” he rasps.

“Anything for you…”

“Atta girl…”

His muscles stutter, that little video you sent him earlier edging his mind all day with thoughts of fucking you senseless. “Look what you do to me… Been thinkin’ about you all goddamn day. M’gonna bust before I even get to watch you put it in…” Rafe affirms your thoughts, and you giggle deviously. “You little brat… This is what you wanted didn't you.”

You poke your tongue in your cheek nodding in reply.

Rafe looks at you half-lidded; his bottom lip swollen and red from biting down so hard. He breathes heavily, his muscular arm flexing— bicep strained as he pumps his thick cock.

“Jealous as fuck, princess... Fuck, that should be me,” he rasps as he stretches his arm back on the back of the couch, relaxing a little more. “Love watching those pretty lips wrapped around a cock, regardless,”

Rafe smirks as you suck off the dildo, pulling it out of your mouth, a string of saliva lined from the tip to your soft lips. “So fuckin’ filthy for me, pretty.”

“How do you want me?” You smile as you rise up on your knees, resting it straight up and down on the bed.

“Just like that, baby…”

"Now what?" You ask coyly as you hover above it, teasing your drooling hole with the tip.

“Take it all, princess… I know you can,” he smirks. Your lips part as you widen your thighs, dropping down on the big silicone cock inch by in. You gasp and moan— fully sat with your head tossed back, using your free hand to grope your tits.

The moans that pours through your speakers from Rafe sends chills down your spine. Rafe watches as you slowly lift yourself off, dragging the dildo out before your greedy cunt swallows it up again.

You start to bounce on the mattress, placing the other hand over your mouth to dampen your whines and pleas as Rafe keeps your pace with his strokes. “Wanna fuck you, baby,” he groans, his voice hoarse and raspy, getting off at the sight of you and the sounds of your warm, wet pussy; your muffled whimpers and cries slipping past your hand from time to time is almost too much for him to take.

“Show me your pussy,” he breathes.

You pull out of the toy, whimpering at the loss of it, rolling to your back, giving Rafe the perfect shot of the wet mess between your thighs. You plunge the cock in your glossy hole, propping yourself up slightly to see him, not wanting to miss a thing.

The dildo reaches that special spot, making the knot tighten in your stomach, toes curling as you get closer and closer.

Your eyes fall down his perfect body, landing on his heavy cock, his reddened tip shiny with precum, swollen and throbbing. “Need you to cum for me… Cum with me, baby,” he pants.

"Gonna cum, baby…" You mewl, face scrunched slightly to keep your eyes from shutting or rolling back. Your thighs shake uncontrollably as you dissolve in pleasure, pussy gushing around the dildo as you continue to work it in and out. Rafe pulls off his big cock, losing all control—white ropes of cum painting his abs and thick, pulsing length.

Rafe watches you draw the toy out of your fluttering hole as he pulls off his dick, milking the last bits of pleasure from his body as he watches you close.

You sigh deeply, satisfied, as you crawl toward the camera. Rafe throws his head back, smiling all too wide, rubbing his hand over his eyes. “What am I gonna tell you to do, princess?” He mumbles, still riding his high, not quite ready to come down just yet.

You giggle, cheeks warming up as you show him the toy glistening with your climax. “Suck that shit, pretty,” he smiles. You wrap your lips around it, taking as much as you can get, sucking it off to the tip before smiling dreamily at him. “That’s my girl.”

“That was good,” you sigh as you wrap yourself up in a fuzzy blanket. Rafe cleans himself off, throwing his boxers back on for the moment.

“Better than me?” He quips with his eyebrow cocked.

“Not a fuckin’ chance, baby.”

“We’re watchin’ that video, sweetheart. Don’t get too comfortable,” he hums.

“I can’t wait.”

Rafe looks at you lovingly— the two of you sharing a moment of silence, just happy to be together. “You know, I’ve been thinking about how much I hate bein’ away from you. And I can’t imagine spending Christmas apart…” Rafe’s words get lost on his lips as he takes out his phone and types up a message, your phone dinging a moment later.

Happy tears gather as you look down at the gift from Rafe, a flight confirmation from Charleston, straight to him. “I wanna spend Christmas with you, princess. Just you and me. What do you say?”

You look up at the handsome man on the other side of the screen, letting your happy tears slip down your cheeks.

“I’d love to.”

[btsvt-bar]

hurts so good

pairing ꩜ mean husband!mingyu x afab!reader

content/genre ꩜ haters to lovers, ceo/mean husband mingyu, smut (18+ mdni)

author's note ꩜ not proofread . comments are appreciated!

warnings under the cut!

warnings ꩜ smut, fingering, masturbation (m. receiving), alcohol consumption, angry sex, unprotected sex, orgasm denial, creampie, light degrading, dom-ish mingyu, dirty talk, spanking (he slaps her ass like 4 times), begging.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・。.・゜✭・

You and Mingyu first met when you were kids. Coming from rich families, you went to the same private school. And to be honest, you really hated him back then.

When you were teenagers, Mingyu was really popular. He was good-looking and smart, being one of the top students of the school. All the girls had a crush on him, even if he was mean to them.

He had always been self absorbed and rude to everyone. Especially to you, and you had no clue why.

You were the quiet, nerdy type. You kept it to yourself, being too focused on your grades and on getting into a good university. Plus, you were basically the only one who didn’t think he was hot shit — but, of course, you’d never say it out loud.

Both of you got into Business School, so you never really got rid of him. His annoying personality only got worse, making you his personal laughing stock.

It worsened when your families merged companies. Coming from the food and beverage industry, and being good friends, it felt natural to merge companies and create an empire bigger than it was before. And, of course, that union had to be sealed with the marriage of the heirs.

When your parents told you, you had a nervous breakdown. They didn’t understand why, labeling you as dramatic. Of course they wouldn’t get it, Mingyu posed as polite and respectful in front of them. But you knew better.

That’s how you ended up getting married to the man you despised. Needless to say, it was the worst day of your life.

Now, three years later, you’re still trapped in a marriage that feels more like a prison. You sleep in separate rooms and on the daily basis, you and Mingyu never really talk, unless it’s a work matter.

Also, you have a terrible sex life. You can count on a hand the amount of times the two of you did it. Yes, you are physically attracted to Mingyu. He has great abs and a big dick, plus delicious big arms and a toned chest. The few times you fucked, you were both tipsy and had had a fight before going out to some company party. It was always angry sex, and you never talked about it the morning after.

With your 4th anniversary approaching, people started asking when are you going to have kids. You dreaded this moment, but it seemed like you couldn’t scape it anymore. It got you thinking about your “marriage”, about how you wished things would change and how you wished Mingyu was a good husband.

As you do your makeup for the company dinner you have tonight, you try to be mentally prepared to be questioned, once again, about your pregnancy plans.

"Hurry up, we’re going to be late" Mingyu says outside your room. You finish putting on lipstick and grab your purse.

You find him waiting on the couch, looking really handsome in his all black tuxedo. His eyes scan you head to toe. His face remains emotionless, but you notice his eyes lingering a bit too long on your wine colored lips and modest cleavage.

"Let’s go."

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・。.・゜✭・

The music is a bit loud, so you have to stay all the way across the room to chat properly with other people.

You are stuck talking to Mingyu’s friends’ wives. It’s not that you don’t like them, because you do, but the topic of the conversation is not something you want to discuss.

"Cheollie’s been so good to me since I told him I’m pregnant" Gwen says while smiling fondly at her husband, who's across the room. "I mean, he’s always been sweet, but now he’s so much more protective and loving…"

"Wonwoo was like that too" Claire comments. "And he’s just the perfect father. Always wanting to help me out. And he won’t admit, but he loves to prepare Yeji’s lunchbox." The other women coo, finding it adorable. But you feel your face twist into a sad expression.

You knew all of them were in an arranged marriage just like yours. How on earth you were the only one who got unlucky?

"What about you and Mingyu?" Mona, Jeonghan’s wife, asks you. "Are you planning to get pregnant soon?"

You take a sip of your gin and tonic, trying to come up with an answer. They all look at you expectantly, and you don’t have the guts to let them down.

"Oh, definitely! We’re trying" you lie. The other women cheer excitedly.

"You’re gonna have the cutest babies!" Claire says.

"Oh that’s for sure. And y/n will be the prettiest mamma ever!" Gwen gushes.

You start to feel bad about lying, so you finish your drink and walk away to grab another.

As you wait, you see Mingyu chatting and laughing with his friends. And it makes you kinda mad that he’s having fun, and you’re not. When you look back at where the other wives are, you see them caressing Gwen’s pregnant belly and you decide you’ve had enough. You walk over to Mingyu, his smile fading the second he spots you.

"What?" he asks in a harsh tone, left eyebrow raising.

"I wanna go home, I’m not feeling well" you say the first excuse that comes to mind.

"Are you for real?" Mingyu seems so annoyed. Seungcheol nudges him, letting out a quiet ‘bro’. Mingyu sighs. "Ok, whatever."

The ride home is tense. Mingyu was holding back so he wouldn’t make a scene in front of the driver, but as soon as you’re alone in your living room, he couldn’t hold his tongue anymore.

"Why do you always have to ruin the night? Honestly, Y/N, you’re so fucking annoying!" he spits out.

You roll your eyes, deciding not to take shit from him. "I was bored and wanted to come home. You could’ve stayed."

"No, I couldn’t. That would make me look bad."

Usually, you wouldn’t say what you wanted. You’d just ignore and go to your room. But today, after a few drinks, and having to hear for hours on end about how your friends’ husbands were amazing, you felt fed up with Mingyu’s bullshit.

"Maybe you should worry more about being a good husband than about faking it." you point out while taking off your heels.

"Excuse me?" his nostrils flare, signaling how angry he was.

You just shrug, not giving a fuck if he was mad. "It is what it is, Mingyu. You don’t even try to be nice to me, but you worry so damn much about how you’re perceived by others." By now, your purse was thrown on the nearest chair and you’re shouting at him. "I’m done trying to be nice, and I think we reached a point where we should get a divorce and move on. Our marriage is a sham and I’m so fucking done with you."

The man chuckles as his tongue pokes his inner cheek. He looks really annoyed. Mingyu sighs and empties his pockets, putting his stuff in a bowl on the small wooden counter.

You feel livid and his lack of response keeps your mouth running. "What’s so funny?"

"Nothing, just the fact that you think that this shitty situation is all on me." He rises his eyebrows. "Get over yourself, Y/N. None of us is willing to take the first step, that’s why our marriage is a shit show." Mingyu turns around and heads out to his room, but the next thing you say stops him dead in his tracks.

"Why aren't you willing to take the first step? What have I done that is so bad that you can't even be my friend?" A few tears escaped your eyes, but you were quick to wipe them away. "Does hurting me make you feel good or something?"

He had to give it to you. You are being really brave, questioning him and talking back.

The small bar cart catches his eyes and he decides that if you're finally having that conversation — one you should've had years ago —, he needs a drink to get through it. The room is filled with the sound of whiskey being poured. Mingyu takes a long sip, almost downing down the whole liquid, and refills his cup.

If he were to be completely honest, he would say he didn't even know why he hated you. He just did. Nowadays, he didn't mind your presence for the most part. However, when you hit his nerves, he wanted you gone. "Hating you is as natural as breathing for me. It's always been like this, why change it?"

"So we can, at least, coexist in peace? Have some fun, even? I'm not asking you to be husband of the year, but could try to be an ok one." You say with a tired tone, the whole situation already taking it's toll on you. Copying his actions, you poured some of the amber liquid for yourself. "You can get some tips from your friends. They're nice to their wives."

Mingyu snorts. "Yeah sure, if you're going to learn from your friends how to be a good wife…"

"I'm willing to try, Mingyu. But I'm not doing this on my own."

You both calmed down quickly, the heated beginning reduced to a low toned conversation. You’re impressed with how well things are going, considering the two of you usually shout and exchange offenses until someone walks away.

"We can try." His voice is quiet. Mingyu's staring at you, his eyes filled with undertones you don't comprehend yet. His moist lips are caught between his teeth. Shaking his head, he places the empty cup on the cart. "This is funny, you know."

"What?"

You can see he's conflicted between saying what's on his mind and keeping his mouth shut. "You can tell me, since we're being honest." You encourage him.

He looks you deeply in the eyes and says "We just called a truce like two minutes ago and now my mind keeps whispering that if we were a real couple, this would be the moment to kiss and make up."

Your mouth gapes in shock. The few times you had sex before, you hadn’t kissed. Mingyu would fuck you from behind, fast, hard and with a lot of pent up anger. And that was it. So you were caught off guard by his words. Seeing your expression, Mingyu quickly added: "The alcohol got to my head, pretend I never said anything."

Before he can try to leave again, you grab his bicep. "I hate to admit it, but you kind of have a point…"

Both of you start to feel this weird heat spreading under your skins. You sigh deeply. It’s weird you know precisely what’s underneath those black clothes. Mainly because you feel like you’re going to have sex him with for the first time.

"Want me to fuck you senseless until we spend all our anger and then we can start over?" He offers with a crooked smile you never saw before.

You feel slick pooling in your panties, your body already reacting to his filthy mouth. This flirty, sexy side of Mingyu is new to you, but you’re already loving it.

"Are you for real?"

Mingyu towers over you, making you step back until you reach the nearest wall. "Do I look like I'm messing around? Do I look like I won't fuck you until we both forget we hated each other in the first place?"

His serious eyes and deep voice make you sigh and bite your lower lip, fully invested in him. He reaches out and caresses your cheek before pulling you in for a kiss.

You both moan at the contact. His tongue dominates yours in a second, imposing a fast rhythm. Your core twists, tingling in a way that nearly hurts. Mingyu grunts when you close your arms around his neck and pulls gently at his hair.

The room temperature rises, leaving you both hot and bothered when you break the kiss. "Go to your room." Mingyu instructs and you comply. The walk is torturous, with shaky legs and your skimpy lacy panties sticking to your folds.

You’re shaking a little when you sit down on your bed. The night went from 0 to a 100 in minutes and you honestly don’t even want to think much about it for now.

"Can I come in?" Mingyu asks on the other side of the door, knocking lightly on the wood.

"Yeah, sure."

Mingyu took off his blazer and necktie, and the first buttons of his shirt are open, revealing his toned chest. Once again, you evaluate his beefy body proportions and purr quietly. Gosh, he’s hot!you think.

The hunky man looks around, analyzing the stuff you have in your room. You realize it’s the first time he enters it. "Do you want to keep going?"

Your eyes meet his and, for the first time ever, you see he’s actually worried about you. You limit yourself to nodding. "I’m gonna need you to say it, Y/N."

"Yes. Please get over here." You plea. Mingyu groans and crosses the room. His pants feel tight and uncomfortable, his cock pulsating with each step.

He gets on top of you, bunching your dress up on your waist. "Fuck…" he hisses when he sees your panties. You feel him caressing your clit over the lace and hold back a moan.

Mingyu moves the fabric to the side, easily sliding his fingers through your dripping cunt. "So fucking wet and I barely touched you. Do you get off on fighting with me?"

Your face grows hot, but you’re not sure if it’s because of his words or actions. He teases your hole, prodding a finger in your entrance. All air leaves your lungs. You let out a whimper, which makes Mingyu chuckle.

"So responsive." He removes his hand, his eyes searching for yours again. "If I knew you’re such a horny slut, I would’ve done this a long time ago."

"Shut up." You sass, your heart pounding in your chest. "Just shut up and actually do something."

"You better watch your fucking mouth." He manhandles you until you’re laying on your stomach. He moves you on his lap and uncovers your ass.

To your surprise, he slaps your right butt cheek. You yelp, feeling your blood pumping quickly through your body. He repeats his action, this time with more intensity.

"Cat got your tongue?" He mocks when you stay silent. Truth is, you’re clamping your lips together so you don’t moan. "You’re soaking through your panties… Is spanking one of your kinks?"

Mingyu gives you another sharp slap, but this time he massages your flash to soften the blow.

"One more." Your voice sounds croaky as you speak.

"As you wish." He complies to your request, giving you the sharpest spank so far. You whimper and Mingyu smiles, pleased with himself.

Taking advantage of your position, he slides your panties off and pulls down the zipper of your dress. With his help, you undress.

You’re laying naked on his lap and just the sight of your bare back and red ass makes the blood in Mingyu’s body flow directly to his cock. He sighs and separate your legs just enough to touch your naked pussy again.

"Mingyu please." You cry out loud, needing him to slip his fingers in your hole.

"Please what?" He plays dumb and you feel the smirk on his voice. "I don’t know what you want, you’re gonna have to say it."

You sob in frustration. "Did you really think I was going to make things easy for you?" Mingyu’s hand ghosts over your body, giving you goosebumps from the heat he irradiates. "I hate you, remember?"

This is absolute torture. Your body is boiling with desire and need, you skin nearly burning up. Mingyu traces your tights, his soft touch giving you goosebumps. "Finger me. Please, I really need it. Please please please." You beg and Mingyu chuckles again, amuzed by your desperate tone.

He parts your legs a bit as his big hands trail the path from the back of your tights to your folds. You feel one of his fingers tease your dripping hole and you clench around nothing.

You’re so wet that his two fingers slide easily into you. Your inner walls clamp down on his digits and he groans. "You’re so tight, Y/N. Can’t wait to feel you on my dick again."

Mingyu begins to finger fuck you with a lazy pace, pulling out completely just to push back in at once. Your head feels cottony, like your brain weights nothing. Out of instinct, you bite your own hand to keep your moans from falling off your lips. Your hips move with a mind of its own, pushing back to meet Mingyu’s movements. Soon enough he hits that gummy spot inside you that makes you shiver. He notices you’re close to your climax, so, out of spite, he stops his stimulation.

"Why?" you cry out, tears accumulating in your eyes. "I was so close!"

"Because it’s fun" he laughs while stroking your ass tenderly. "Be good, lay down and spread your legs for me so I can make you cum."

Your limbs feel like jelly when you scramble around to get on your back. Mingyu gets up and pushes his dress pants down along with his black boxers. His cock stand hard and proud, the red tip glossed with pre cum. You muster the strength to get on your knees and approach him, your hands grabbing his shirt to start unbuttoning it.

You work your way up his body, taking each button out of its house. When you take the last one out, your caress his big chest, feeling his strong muscles under your sweaty palms. You smooth your way up to his shoulders and push his shirt down. He’s finally naked in front of you, in all his glory.

You trail his arms and abs, all the way down to his rock hard cock. When you wrap your hands around him, Mingyu lets out a sigh of relief. You stroke him slowly while savoring his low, deep grunts in your ear. Soon enough, you quicken your pace. Meanwhile, all you can think about is his cock splitting you open and you feel yourself getting wetter.

"Tha-that’s enough." He reaches for your wrist to stop you after a couple minutes.

Surprisingly, he pulls you in for another kiss. This time, it’s a slow, passionate one. Without separating your lips, he leads you to lay down again. The new position makes Mingyu’s hips align with yours, and you start rutting each other like animals on heat.

"Seeing you between my legs is so hot." you confess when you part the kiss to breathe. "But it could be better."

"Yeah? How so?" Mingyu pokes his cheek with his tongue, his confidence unwavering.

You bite your lower lips for a second. "You’ll look hotter inside me, dear husband."

His smile falters, his eyes turning darker and darker with desire. You know you said just the right thing to spur him on.

"I’d hold onto something if I were you."

You decide to ground yourself by hugging him. Without hesitation, Mingyu pushes in in one quick, firm trust. He’s swallowed in by your warm, soft walls. You see when his eyes roll back in pleasure, and his reaction boosts your confidence through the roof. On the other hand, his big cock splitting you open twists and tightens the knot on your core even more. You know it won’t require much effort for you to cum.

"Please move" you whim and kiss his lips softly. "I need you to move."

Mingyu gives in and imposes a fast, rough pace. You sink your nails on his back, trying to keep yourself from moving too much. He slides in and out of you deliciously, reaching all the right places. You moan loudly on his ear, and he huffs and puffs on yours. The loud sounds of skin slapping, added with the wet noises coming from your wetness, teleport both of you to a world of your own. A world where the only thing that matters is Mingyu’s rough thrusts and the way your insides mold perfectly to accommodate his dick.

After what it feels like forever, Mingyu folds your legs to your chest, and the position makes him reach new places inside of you. It’s when he starts rubbing circles on your clit that you feel on the verge of frenzy. "I’m almost there." You announce.

His hips redouble efforts, and within a few seconds, and a chant of "cum for me, dear wife" your mind turns blank and your soul is lifted off of your body.

You nearly pass out, all the stimulation being too much for you. Seeing you so blissed out pushes Mingyu over the edge before he has the chance to pull out. He grunts as he covers your walls with his warm milk. Your arms fall limp on his back, and Mingyu’s strength also falters, making him drop his weight on top of you.

He rubs his nose on your neck in an affectionate gesture. You smooth your hands on his back in a retributive way. The two of you stay silent for a while, enjoying the proximity and giving yourselves time to come back down.

When Mingyu slips out of you, a stream of white floods out of your messed up hole.

"Fuck, I should’ve pulled out." Mingyu searches for your eyes, his brown orbs filled with worry. You smile softly at him.

"It’s ok, I don’t mind." You reassure him. "Just help me clean up, yeah?"

Mingyu gets up immediately and enters your en suite. He comes back a minute later with a wet cloth in hand.

"You ok?" He asks while cautiously rubbing it against your sensitive cunt.

"I’ll probably limp tomorrow, but I guess that’s the downside of fucking your hater, right?" You joke and he chuckles while shaking his head.

"Well, I guess we’re sort of friends now."

"Yes, definitely." You agree.

He discards the towel and lays back next to you. You’re under the sheets now, and your body feels completely spent. "You’re not going to sleep, are you?"

You nod, feeling your heavy lids take the best of you. "I sure am."

Mingyu gets on top of you again, and hold your chin to make you look at him. "I’ll give you 30 minutes to recover, dear wife." The stupid nickname rolls out of his tongue with an almost tender laugh.

"I thought you were fucking me until we spent all of our anger." you state, struggling to keep your eyes open. "I don’t feel angry anymore."

"I do." His eyes hold mysteries you’re yet to discover. "I’m not done hating you yet."

His low deep voice stirs your insides. You sigh, feeling your heartbeat increase again. "30 minutes and you can hate me all you want."

"Deal." He presses a kiss to your lips and goes back to the empty side of the bed.

You feel him scrambling around looking for the TV remote control. As you let your tiredness get the best of you, all you can think about is that you’re going to fight with everything that you have to make things work out between the two of you.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・。.・゜✭・

© btsvt-bar, 2024

m.list ♡

read the sequel: down bad

[xazse]

HELLO!!! I saw that your requests are open!! I love sukuna hybrid tiger or lion x a really sensitive bratty reader(fem or gn) smut

Reader is really sensitive and crys if someone says no to something reader wants or just because someone said something mean.

AM REALLY SORRY IF YOU DON'T SMUT OR FEM READER MY INTERNET IS REALLY SLOW.

THANK YOU IF YOU DECIDE TO DO THIS♡

Notes: I hope you enjoy this<33 (sorry if this was a little rushed)

Parings: Sensitive!FemReader x TigerHybrid!Sukuna

Warnings: HeienEra!Sukuna/four arms + crybaby!reader + licking + two cocks + crying + penetration + creampie

TigerHybrid!Sukuna loves his little crybaby!

an effort to get him to get you that jewel you’ve been hearing about from travelers telling their tales, he continues to tell you that such a thing doesn’t exist and to quit being a bother, you stop for a moment and he can already hear the sniffles in your voice, he can see the waterworks decorating your waterline, it’s not long before the fat tears start running down your cheeks.

“Such a crybaby, why do you insist that that jewel actually exists?” He sighs before continuing “that’s just a tale for stupid humans, last time I recalled you’re a human but you aren’t stupid.” He uses two of his four arms to place you in his lap facing him.

He begins using his thick tongue to lick at the tears falling freely, his tongue is rough and hurts a bit as he even licks over your eyes. Your attempt to push him off of you is met with him pulling you into his chest deeper and wrapping his tri-colored tail around your waist, he won’t stop licking till your tears stop.

TigerHybrid!Sukuna who despises having to eat human food but has to appease to you.

It’s so gross as it makes his way down his throat, he feels the need to gag and throw the shit up but in your presence he won’t. He loves the content look on your face as you sit so close to him enjoying your own food, he’ll even let you spoon feed him on rare occasions.

TigerHybrid!Sukuna whose cocks throbs when you have to take both.

You’ll literally whine when he’s using his thick fingers to pry open your hole and your pussy, he says he needs to or it’ll hurt a tenthfold. He takes full advantage though: using his tongue as well to collect all your juices and stretch you out.

He loves the feeling of you clenching around the digits so tight, you’re moaning loudly and lewdly he’s sure the entire estate can hear just how good he’s making you feel, but it’s nothing compared to when he’s fitting his fat cocks inside of you.

He’s finally done prepping you and needs to be balls deep inside. He grabs his 2nd cock and presses it against the entrance of your pussy, the soaked hole is already slurping up his tip fully. He can hear you taking deep breaths of air as he pushes and pushes inside, your cunt is so damn snug and already twitching needy around him. It’s when he takes his other cock and begins pushing it inside of your ass do you start up your crying. He can already picture how ruined you already are.

Sukuna presses his full weight on your back, successfully pining you against the bed. He’s waited all day for this so he starts moving his hips rather fastly, his cocks filling you to the brim just to be snatched out fully and fitted right back in. The mix of your crying and moaning sounds so good. He has to hold you still to contain your shaking twitchy body, you always get like this when both are ruining your small holes.

Sukuna can’t help himself when he begins biting your neck, he tries to keep his sharp teeth under control as to not draw blood like last time, he also soothes you with his soft purring.

He starts grinding his hips down against your ass, angling his hips downward he starts hitting your sweet spot directly, all these years he’s learned your body perfectly like a piano. It has you breathless, and obviously mewing for more through a teary voice, he gives you just that: rubbing your little bud, your folds are slippery but he manages to slide over your clit over and over.

Your cunt and ass flutters around his cock , feels so fucking good you can’t help but slur out.

Sukuna slams against you one last time before filling you with thick ropes of his cum, he sighs and stops for a minute and exactly a minute before holding your body down and moving his hips again, Your TigerHybrid is the type to cum quickly but able to keep shooting round after round inside you. That’s why you find it exhausting to take both of his cocks, he gets too excitable to where you’re going until the sun comes up.

[daenysx]

hi bby, could i request jealous modern!aemond?😊

i tried my best but i feel like everything was better in my head, i hope i managed to get things right with the words <333 thanks for requesting

modern!aemond targaryen x fem!reader

-aemond needs to get you back.

cw; kinda like exes to lovers, jealous!aemond, aemond being an idiot and he's sorry for that, criston cole in his own warning, reader's shorter than aemond, mentions of alcohol, kissing, aemond being desperate to get you back, also he's a sad fool and he accepts that, suggestive towards the end but nothing descriptive, title is a hozier lyric

wc; 2k

i'll crawl home to her

aemond likes to think he's good at controlling his emotions. at least he can keep his face neutral, he doesn't let people know what he thinks.

that turns out to be a lie, though, the moment he sees a guy behind the bar stool you sit.

he relaxes his fists. you're not his girlfriend. he has no right to feel jealous over your affections. who's that guy, anyway? how can he be bold enough to talk to you like this, leaning to the bar with his arm almost wrapped around you? aemond hates the idea of someone being braver than him. he fucking despises the idea of you giving a smile to that- that asshole.

"you okay?" cole asks, his glass almost empty in his hand. he follows aemond's gaze and, boom. just like he guessed.

"of course, i'm okay." aemond replies, coolly. there's no logical reason behind his real emotions.

"if you keep staring like that, she will notice."

aemond turns to him sharply. his gaze is burning, almost feels like crying or something worse than that. "i'm not staring."

"if you say so." cole shrugs. he's got worse problems than dealing with aemond's jealousy to be honest. he knows aemond will never admit what's happening in truth.

"do you- do you know who that is?" aemond asks, not that he thinks cole can actually know a random guy at the bar. he tries to fill the stupid silence between them, change the subject after that, storm out when he finishes his drink. he despises the pathetic situation he unwillingly put himself into.

"do i know the guy who's flirting with your ex-girlfriend?" cole pretends to think. "um- no, i don't actually."

the mention of you burns his chest. it's because of the whisky, he tells himself. keep your cool, keep your cool. don't let them know anything.

"it doesn't matter, anyway." he says, feeling like a desperate fool.

"no, it doesn't." cole agrees. aemond can sense his mocking, his tendency to talk boldly tonight. cole isn't like that usually. "because you are not together anymore."

"we're not."

"because you let her go." cole continues, takes a sip from his glass. "it was quite stupid of you if you ask me."

"i didn't ask you, cole."

"no, no, but just- what were you thinking when you decided to break things off with her, hmm? what was the motivation behind it?"

"you're going too far."

"i'm not." cole says. "you just can't face with your own decisions."

"fuck off." aemond stands up, getting his jacket. "you don't even know what you're talking about. didn't ask your damn opinion about my love life, did i?"

"just admit you failed, aemond. lost the one good thing about you." cole speaks calmly after him. "you'd do all of us a great favor."

aemond walks away. there's no need for drunken arguments tonight, he's certainly not in the mood for discussing his past decisions. he can't help a brief look on your seat, though. you're not there. he didn't see you leaving, he can't see your jacket or that sparkly purse you love so much. the guy stays where he is, chatting with his friends. where are you?

"oh!" someone shorter than him almost collapses with his chest. "aemond?"

aemond wishes you to not look so pretty with that smudged eye make up and- his fucking favorite color on your lips. what kind of strength should he have to not kiss you against the wall when you're looking at him through those glossy eyes? he takes a step back, an apology ready on his lips.

you beat him through it. "sorry." you say, blinking your pretty eyes. "didn't see you there."

"no, it's okay." he collects himself before doing something stupid. "i was walking too fast."

you nod, your purse in your hand and your jacket thrown on your shoulders. you don't look drunk, maybe just tipsy. turning your back to him, you keep walking your way, out of the club. running into your ex-boyfriend shouldn't stop you from going home.

aemond thinks of the guy back there. you're not together with him, are you? he's not with you right now, he doesn't call a cab, and you don't look like you're waiting for anyone. that must be a relief. it doesn't feel like it, though. aemond is certain anyone who sees you would fall for your charms, that guy was no exception. all the hypothetical men get into his head. fuck them all.

"are you alone?" he asks you, foolishly. you nod. no words for him. why would you bother?

"i can- my car is over there if you-"

"i don't want anything from you, aemond."

okay. he deserves this. he knows he deserves this.

"it's late." he says. "i know you don't want anything to do with me, but i can at least-"

"i said no." you cut him. "you don't have to pretend to care."

you start walking in the cool breeze of night air. it feels nice on your face. aemond follows you like he's lost, like he doesn't know where to go without you. "can we talk?" he asks, his voice is softer than the last time you talked. "please?"

"there's nothing to talk about." you tell him, looking at him briefly.

"i made a mistake." he says like he's pleading. the alcohol gets him, his lips move on their own. he keeps telling himself he won't regret anything he tells you right now. he's not drunk, that means they are all real. "i made many mistakes. letting you go was the worst of them."

"that sounds like an interesting story." you say, sarcastically. "would you like to continue? i'm sure people on the street will enjoy your freak show."

he has no explanation for this but your attitude turns him on.

"i saw you with that guy." he says.

"you really should stop talking now." you say. "you're being pathetic."

"no, i-" he can get on his knees and beg. he's cursing his past self, cursing his stupid decisions. "please."

"please, what?" you get angrier each second. this is not a game you'll be playing with him. "do you realize how stupid you sound?"

"of course i do." he answers with a slight pout. "i just need you to see- to understand how terrible it makes me feel, to- to see you with another guy and not being able to do anything about it-"

"no need to be so selfish." you say, calmly. "i'm not your anything. you cannot react like this every time we run into each other by chance."

"i regret it." his legs can give up any second now. he begs for something divine to help him out of his misery. "i regret everything i did. i never should have let you go."

your heartbeat gets quicker with anger and adrenaline. the fact that you're still hopelessly in love with him does nothing to calm your nerves. he doesn't deserve your love. you will not accept anything he says until he proves he's worthy. you try to control your breath, stop your hands from shaking. he has no right to do this, you remind yourself.

"it's too late." you say. "you don't deserve to get everything back after you let them go like the way you did."

he looks at you so sweetly, you have to swallow and look away. he's fond of that attitude of yours, how you put yourself first after he hurt you, and his chest tightens with the loss of you there but he can't help a wave of affection towards your frowny face and your crossed arms. there's his girl, you're still there, still present with your anger and precise words. he would to anything to get you back.

"i know." aemond agrees, slowly. "i promise, i know- and you're right, whatever you decide to do, you're right."

"are you trying to fix us just because you saw me with another guy?" you ask, eyebrows furrowed.

"no, of course not. not only because of that." he says quickly. "i wanted you back since the first time you walked out. i just didn't have enough courage to talk to you."

"so you're admitting you were being stupid and acting like coward?" you challenge him with two things he hates the thought of being the most.

"it was stupid of me to break up with you." he says slowly. he's gonna have to be a big boy for this. "i was only trying to protect you from my family and- and myself, but i acted cowardly."

"i can protect myself." you say. "i don't need you to decide for me."

"i know that, sweetheart." he smiles. it's a tiny move on his lips, he's always so fond of your independent nature. "i apologise for not speaking things clearly."

it's your turn to smile. you take a step towards him, he stays still. the top buttons of his shirt expose his neck nicely, the chain you got him hanging there. he never let you go. he was only being an idiot. you think you want him back. he can fix his own idiocity by himself, but you want him back.

"what do you want?" you ask with a kind voice like you're teasing. you're not teasing, not in the least but he doesn't know that, does he?

"i want you to be my girlfriend again." he says, straightening his posture. his shoulders are high, his neck long. he feels like a dragon ready to fight for you. "if you'll have me."

you push him softly against the wall behind him and cup his cheeks. he accepts the kiss greedily, changing positions so that your back is against the wall. he makes a rightful mess of your lipstick, his hands on your waist and on the back of your neck. you close your eyes. his scent hits your senses so well, your hand goes to his shoulder to pull him closer.

you break the kiss. "you cannot do the same thing again, okay? you cannot leave me and come back, you cannot think for my place and make my decisions when it comes to you and our relationship."

"okay." he says, his eye closed and his lips following your mouth. "i promise."

"good." you say, pull him for another kiss. it's only been two weeks but you missed him. he feels safe like this, and familiar with his body pressed against yours against the wall of a club. the darkness of the night covers you, your sparkly purse is the only thing that can be seen from a distance.

aemond kisses you like he's been out of breath for so long. he's been a desperate fool for days but now it's over. everything gets clear when he gets you like this, his mind free of worry and anger, all those devilish thoughts that bother him. he's content with his place, he doesn't have to pretend he's okay. it's all real.

"by the way-" you start saying between two lovely kisses. "that guy back there already has a lover named charles. you didn't have to worry about him anyway."

aemond laughs and it's a real laugh, not one of the fake ones he has to throw into aegon's or cole's face. you smile and he kisses your cheek. you hold his hand, he squeezes your fingers.

"i like your dress." he changes the subject, leading you to his car. "is that new?"

"of course it is." you answer, cheekily. "my boyfriend decided to be a jerk for no reason and i had to keep myself busy with something."

aemond had no idea the night could turn into something amazing when he first agreed to come here with cole. he can't keep his hands off you, kisses you against the car this time. he's gotta find a way to make up for the time he made you lost. kissing you and getting you your favorite drink on the way home might be a good start.

he gives you a silent promise to atone his sins between your legs in the following hours.

[sincere1ystar]

Shining just for you

coriolanus snow x fem! reader

After things get messed up between the two of you at the gala, Corioanus is desperate to fix things between you two again

authors note: guys when i mean desperate i mean DESPERATEEEE

Everyone always said that the C in Coriolanus Snow stood for calculating. What a silly saying, because when it came to you the C in Coriolanus Snow stood for clueless.

The image he built himself as a man who oozes with power crumbles in a matter of seconds around you. You liked it that way, you knew it was just a persona and if life hadn’t pushed him around the way he did he would’ve stayed soft.

When the two of you first met you didn’t fall pity to his charms like the rest of the peers around you. He liked that about you, you were diligent. You had beauty and brains, unlike those lifeless souls that threw themselves at him as they fluttered their eyelashes. He considered himself lucky to call himself yours and he wasn’t afraid to show it either. Every gala he was there right on your arm, and if you didn’t encourage him to go converse with the other party-goers  to others he probably would have stayed there.

You had built a home in Coriolanus’s heart, love was too weak a word to describe his emotions towards you. He didn’t consider himself a violent man, but for you he wasn’t afraid to roughen up the edges of himself. To make his image seem more powerful than it already was, so people would fear him and not even think about hurting you. 

Of course he got invited to many galas, it was only natural considering he had made a name for himself now. Still, he viewed them all as pointless affairs and if you weren’t so fond of going to them he wouldn’t bother to even step foot in the venue. 

Although his signature color is a shade of deep red, he often matched whatever color you were wearing. Tonight it was a cerulean blue to match your dress of the same color. The only thing that stayed the same was the white rose in his handkerchief pocket that eventually ended up behind your ear. 

As you’re finishing up the final touches to your look Coriolanus comes behind you, adjusting the straps of your dress as he leaves soft kisses on your neck.

“Coryo we’re gonna be late-“, you try to protest but he quickly silences you with a soft kiss to your shoulder.

“We can spare a few minutes can’t we darling?”, he cooed.

By the time you manage to drag him to the car sent for you two, you’re already late to the party. Not like Coriolanus cares though, it was time well spent.

Usually when the two of you arrive to any sort of event, he would stick by your side for atleast the first part of it until some buisnessmen or some senator pulled him away. But this time since your arrival was later than usual, the minute you two walked through the doors some of his fellow associates dragged him off to discuss business. You don’t mind much, knowing he has work to do as you walk over to a few friends of your own.

While you enjoy yourself, chatting away like the social butterfly you are, Coriolanus finds the whole event to be tedious and torturous . He wasn’t even paying attention to what his colleagues were saying, too busy stealing glances at you giggling as your friend told a story about her latest date. He’s so intrigued by observing you as if he was stuck in some trance, that he doesn’t notice Aurelia, a woman married to a local senator whom she openly despised, practically throwing herself at him.

He doesn’t snap out of it , not until he feels her red painted lips slightly touch the tip of his ear. The only thing he feels in that moment is utter disgust. The fact that someone other than you attempt to get this close to him was appalling. Did she not see the wedding band on his finger?

After chatting away with your friends for a while, you politely excuse yourself to make your way to Coriolanus since it seems that all his fellow politician friends have now left. Just as you’re about to approach him, you notice her. The woman who is all over Coriolanus, as if she wasn’t married already to another senator and he wasn’t already yours.

You’ve always been the confrontational type, which is why it’s no surprise when you come up right beside them ready to tell Aurelia to back off. Well that was before you overheard her say in that sultry voice of hers, “A man like you shouldn’t be stuck at some flimsy party like this Coriolanus. I bet you want to get out of here don’t you? Y’know my hotel room is better than any party…”

Before Coriolanus responds, you storm out with anger hot on your heels. How dare he. You decide to just go home, taking the car despite Coriolanus still searching for where you went. He can find his own way home. Better yet why doesn’t he get a ride with Aurelia, surely there’s another spot left in her husband’s car.

Your rage doesn’t die down, even as you reach the manor and tuck yourself into bed. You don’t have too much time to notice how empty it seems with Coriolanus’s side of the bed being vacant before he rushes in, his words overflowing out of his mouth. But it’s all a blur to you, tuning him out completely as you shift your body to face the wall while pulling the blanket up.

It’s not until late at night just as you’re about to fall asleep, when you realize he’s begging.

“Darling.. darling please”, he mumbles almost pitiably. He continues desperately kissing your skin with your back still turned to him. “Didn’t even notice what she was doing.. was too busy looking at you”.

You don’t say anything in response and continue staying still, but you’re not pushing him away and Coriolanus takes this as a sign to keep going. “I pushed her away the minute I noticed what she was doing. I would never be unfaithful to you darling, you know that… you’re the only one for me”.

The stubborn part of you wanted to continue to ignore him, but the more reasonable side of you decided to hear him out. “I suppose… I was overreacting just a little bit. Fine”-, you start before you were cut off by his kisses.

“Thank you. Thank you sweetheart… I know I don’t deserve it”, he rasped while leaving little frantic kisses all over your face, “Don’t deserve your forgiveness. Don’t deserve you”.

“Not so stoic and cold are you now Coriolanus Snow?”, you think to yourself. Oh how funny it would be if all his politician friends see how he acted under your finger.

[erosiism]

A CASE OF REGRETS | YANDERE DUKE X M!READER.

prompt: you die during a rebellion, and he turns back time for you in desperation | reader is childhood friends with claude (OC), both are planning a rebellion to usurp the throne.

character(s): duke, you

warnings(s): nil

note(s): male reader, second person, past tense, not beta read, excerpt from my fic on wattpad, to make amends

FIND MORE MOMENTS OF CLAUDE AND THE READER HERE.

"Y/n!"

Blood spurted out.

"Y/n!"

Your vision blurred.

"Oh gods, are you okay? Are you—"

Your ribs hurt: were they broken? Bloodied? You could certainly taste the horrible taste of iron present in your tongue. It was clear to you that somehow you were dying. That something had turned against you. That you were...

"Please, please, please—"

Through your muddled vision you could make out a figure. A familiar silhouette running towards you, legs stumbling in desperation, breaths ragged.

It was nice to know that when you died, someone would grieve for you. That someone would cry for you.

There was only one person in the world who cared so much for you.

"Claude," you murmured. There was a smile on your face. "There's no need to cry..."

"Y/n, please—no—"

"Save it." You sighed, "there's no way I'm going to be surviving this."

It was true. Blood jetted out of your wound in spurts, staining your tailored uniform with a bright, crimson hue. You had loved that color mainly because Claude had ruby eyes, but now it just seemed gruesome, horrid. Pain had simmered down into a steady brew, and you wondered if your pain tolerance had simply grown stronger, or it was a telling sign of your fading consciousness.

"You were such a brat last time." You murmured. "You used to throw tantrums and everything...for a while, I thought you despised me. Even when we became adults, you were still heartless, cold...so why do you weep for me? Why do you grieve my death?"

I was a fool last time, Claude thought silently. I was a fool. I was a fool not to have shown my affections last time.

Because the truth was plain and simple, written in ink, written in the stars: Claude adored you. Was it not you who had held his hand in the gardens for strolls? Was it not you who accompanied him throughout, was it not you who could make him crack a smile, make him laugh? It had been all you. Every single joyous moment he had was caused by you. When he had finally received the title of the Duke. When he had finally defeated his family and his foes.

But Claude had been so wrapped up in his own troubles he had failed to notice your problems. Your dastardly family. Your...

He had neglected your wellbeing—he hadn't seen your deteriorating state, your weakening smile—he hadn't see any of that. He had been self obsessed, too engrossed in his own matters that he hadn't even—

Claude had taken too long to warm up to you. He could have been sweeter earlier. Made your life easier, no matter what it was. Claude had taken a while to truly open his heart to you: he had been rude, ungracious, curt. And you had been patient. Endlessly patient with him.

"We can save you," Claude said desperately, "we can."

You laughed. A tinkling, magical sound—but at that moment, it was so damned. So fucking painful to hear the cracks inside, the strain hiding inside the tone.

He knew it would be the last time he would ever heard it.

"You are the Emperor. You finally reclaimed your right to the throne. You finally..."

"Y/n," he whispered.

You shook your head.

"You achieved everything you sought for."

Perhaps he did. But the thing he truly wanted had been in front of him this whole time and he had been blind. Utterly blind.

And he would never forgive himself for that.

The tears slipped. His voice felt suffocated; choking.

"Don't cry," you touched his cheek gently and that pulled Claude temporarily out of his panic—"don't cry, alright? It was inevitable, Your Grace. Don't cry. The future Emperor doesn't cry."

Your Grace. Even then, you hadn't referred to him by his name. If he had another chance—just one singular chance—

He would allow you to call him by his name.

You were his everything.

You're my heart, Y/n.

If you die, then that would make me heartless.

There was so much blood, Claude realized. Coating his palms, running down your back. So much of its thick texture, its color, all drenched. Every single bit drenched—

Why was there so much blood? It wasn't his. He  wasn't unhurt, really. He wasn't that well off, but not to your extent. You sounded so tired when you spoke, so faint. So weak. You could have disappeared any second. Claude held you in your arms softly, gently—you could disappear any moment, your breaths wavering and quivering.

No, no, no.

I love you, Claude thought deliriously. I love you. I love you. I love you so much—

The voice grew and became stronger; louder even as you grew cold. Claude rocked you even when your hands fell, holding one to his own cheek. Your hands still had the faintest bit of warmth. He clung onto it desperately; motionless with the tears dried up with his throat feeling like sandpaper.

You can't leave me, he'd thought deliriously, hugging you close and rocking you again and again and again, you can't leave me.

Y/n L/n, I love you too much to let you go.

.

.

Claude had failed to save you. In front of him, your beauty was still visible in his eyes; your (h/c) hair, your (e/c) eyes—because of his arrogance, his incompetence, you had unfairly died. He had not noticed the blooming feelings in his stomach until you had been cold in his arms, and his tears had splattered on your cheek.

The universe has been cruel to you.

He had stood by your side and had watched you suffer and suffer and suffer; and for what? Only for the gods to turn their back on you? What was the point, really? Claude had been with you this whole time. Had seen the sacrifices you poured in, had seen—

He should have been the one that died, Claude despaired. Not you. Never you.

That night he couldn't sleep. The place was too empty without you. He had been crowned Emperor. But there was no you to accompany him by his side.

There was...absolutely no point.

Why was he even alive at this rate? Claude wondered. Everything would go back to life before you. Tedious. Long. Meaningless.

"Your Majesty, the Empire—"

"—do whatever you want." Claude rasped out. "Just...just..."

Please. If the Gods are listening. Please, please—

Turn back time. For me, for Y/n.

For...

[ The Gods have heard your prayers ]

.

.

Turning back time was unheard of. Something in the legends. Something Claude didn't believe in. Yet when he woke up—there had been disappointment in him, he had assumed that this was heaven yet you were nowhere in sight—there was the familiar surroundings of a room.

Not the Emperor's bedroom.

The bedroom from the manor he once lived when he was the illegitimate son of the Duke.

I must be dreaming, Claude thought. There was a flicker of hope he didn't dare to believe in. I must be dreaming of the happier times and the million what ifs.

Pain was tugging at his heart. It was painful. Everything was painful...

"—don't bother him. He just recovered from a sickness."

What?

What?

Delusional. Hallucinating. Delirious. To hear your sweet, sweet voice in such a dream—perhaps this was heaven after all. Claude didn't ever want to wake up. He didn't.

Because you were there. In front of him.

He sucked in a breath.

As sweet, as polite as he remembered. Every inch of his face had been committed to his memory. Every contour, every line. He had mapped you out in his head and had aligned you with the thousands of dazzling stars in the universe because you were the reason he bothered to continue living. Because you had become his reason for living.

You stood, in regal attire, with your posture as graceful as he had remembered. The sunlight streamed in through the paneled windows, caressing your features and alighting upon your lashes. He swallowed, trying to remember how to breathe.

"Ah, you are awake, Your Grace." You smiled at him.

"Y/n L/n," he said finally. "Y/n L/n." It's been so long since he could say this name to someone who would hear and respond to it. So many times he called your name out of your desperation in vain: hoping for some sort of hallucination to pop up, for some sort of inkling that your voice would carry over to his ears.

And you smiled.

Smiled.

Smiled.

Smiled—

Claude reached out to you and buried his face into your clothes.

You gave a startled smile.

.

.

The Duke had done a 180 complete turn.

"Y/n," he spoke with uncharacteristic fondness that you just didn't understand, "you are..."

Tears. There were tears on his cheek. Had you done anything to offend him? You thought not.

"Your Grace..." you reached out to brush his forehead with your fingers, "are you alright? You don't seem to have a fever."

Claude stared at you with wide eyes.

"Oh," You heard him say, and then, "you are as beautiful as I remembered."

What?

"Your Grace, are you really sure you are fine—"

Claude dashed forward, not even registering your words. He crushed you in his arms, a hand in your hair, head buried in his neck. He missed this. This warmth and this scent. Home, home. It's the smell of home. It's the smell of you. It's you. It's you. It's you. 

It worked, he thought. It worked. It fucking worked. I traveled back in time. 

"... Well then," you gave a small chuckle, confused upon what was happening, "it's a relief to see you have awoken—why are you crying?"

"You're here," Claude breathed, his first tangible words since his return. "You're here."

"Of course I'm here, Your Grace." You looked at him with confusion etched all over your features, frowning. "What's wrong? You..."

The Duke was looking at you like you were the only one that mattered in the world. And that—

Wow. What kind of coma did he have, to be behaving so peculiarly?

You wiped his tears, sighing and fussing.

"You know what—never mind. Tell me later—why are you still crying, Your Grace?"

Claude held onto you tighter.

Maybe he had bad dreams in his coma, you thought. He was holding on to you like you were a lifeline. Like you would disappear any second, any minute.

As though he would never let go of you again.

You patted the Duke's head gently, slowly, fingers running through his hair. "Don't cry. The future Emperor doesn't cry."

Those words. It was so hauntingly painful to him.

Claude didn't want to remember anymore. He didn't  need to remember. He had succeeded. The Gods had listened to him. You were alive and breathing, in front of him. You were—

Alive.

reblog/like the post! comments are appreciated even if you read this before :)

[kkayyerr]

Struggling and cuddling.

Summary: Rafe and JJ trying to tolerate each other for the little!reader‘s sake, until one evening JJ suddenly regress for the first time in front of his „enemy”.

Pairing: Daddy!Rafe x little!reader x little!JJ.

Warnings: Age regression, slight swearing.

Rafe was used to JJ always being cranky, especially after the fights with his father. No matter how much they despised each other, they had to cooperate because you seemed to love them both equally. They got used to each other’s behaviors, not enjoying the company of one another, but at least learning to be more calm while spending time together. However, JJ’s mood today was hard to tolerate. He was going off on you, being extremely rude to Rafe, cursing him off right in front of you, which he usually would never do. Rafe wasn’t scared of fighting JJ; it wouldn’t be the first time that he would deal with the Pogue. However, his feelings about the whole situation were odd. Something was wrong with the boy, but Rafe just couldn’t find out what. 

Rafe approached you while you were sitting on the carpet, coloring pictures with your favorite crayons. He hated the thoughts of you being present in the serious and stressful conversation, so he crouched down in front of you, giving you a head pat to get your attention. 

 

„Baby, can you please go and play in our bedroom for a little while?”

 

You looked at him confused. He usually would tell you that when you had misbehaved. Why would he ask you that when you didn’t do anything wrong? 

 

„Why?”

 

Rafe sighed. He didn’t know how to exactly explain this. He obviously didn’t want your precious little mind to be filled with adult problems, so he knew that he had to just make something up quickly.

 

„Me and JJ want to make a little surprise for you, okay?”

 

Your demeanor quickly changed to a happy one, and you quickly got up from the floor, taking all the crayons and coloring books with you to the room. Rafe gave you a soft smile that quickly disappeared when you had closed the door behind you. 

He turned around and approached JJ, trying to control his temper, even though he was very intimidated right now. 

 

„What the fuck is wrong with you?”

 

The words sounded more curious than angry. Rafe actually wanted to know what was happening. Not because he cared about JJ, of course not. He just wanted to make sure that his personal problems wouldn’t affect you. 

JJ didn’t answer. He didn’t seem angry or pissed like earlier; his face expression was numb. It looks like he was struggling to understand his own emotions, and Rafe knew exactly how it feels, even though he wasn’t planning on admitting it. 

 

„Can you at least try to communicate like an adult?”

 

Rafe’s tone was a bit snarky, but deep down he was starting to get worried, not knowing why exactly he even cared. JJ didn’t answer this time either. Rafe was starting to feel a little bit frustrated when he saw a familiar scene. JJ was standing there, sucking on his thumb just as you used to do whenever you would regress. Rafe’s eyes widened for a moment, but then he relaxed, knowing that at least he knew what he was dealing with right now. 

He carefully put his hand on the boy’s shoulder and sighed with relief when he didn’t push it away. 

JJ felt a strange wave of comfort washing over him as Rafe’s hand touched his shoulder. Surprisingly, his touch was soft and gentle. JJ wouldn’t admit that, but it was exactly what he needed in the moment. 

 

“You can go home if you want. I’ll tell her something.”

 

Rafe didn’t have time for another sentence. JJ quickly turned around and hugged him, probably seeking comfort from at least someone. Rafe’s eyes widened; it was not what he was expecting at all. Though he didn’t push him away. He just awkwardly petted his back, not knowing how to react. 

 

„Alright, dude. I get it, you’re a little bit clingy right now, yeah?”

 

He wasn’t planning on teasing him, but he just couldn’t hold himself back right now. Who could’ve thought that he would have two pogues who trusted him enough to regress in front of him? 

JJ pulled away, looking a bit embarrassed by his behavior that he couldn’t control. He was way too hungry for affection right now to think about their previous fights. 

 

„Can you use your big boy words and tell me what do you need?”

 

JJ shyly pointed his finger at Rafe, trying to explain his needs non-verbally. Rafe understood perfectly what he had meant, but he wanted him to do as he was told at least once. 

He raised his brows, hinting that JJ might want to actually use his vocals, if he wanted to get something.

 

„You."

 

Rafe felt weird pleasure hearing those words. It was almost funny how easy it was to make you two fall for him, even though he wasn’t planning on using it against you, at least not yet. 

He chuckled a little bit, getting closer to JJ just to ruffle his hair. The boy’s face finally brightened up. 

 

„I’ll be sure to remind you of that moment every time you  behave like an arrogant asshole.”

 

JJ pouted, and Rafe pinched his cheeks just to make him smile again. Both of them were interrupted by the sounds of your little footsteps. They immediately turned they had in your direction, both smiling softly at the sight of your confused face expression.

 

„Daddies, what happen’?”

 

Your question was almost funny, and Rafe tried his best to hide his little smirk but eventually failed. He looked at the JJ once more, admiring his blushed cheeks. 

 

„It seems like we actually have a surprise for you, little one.”

Taglist: @tinylilacbun @rafecameronsloverrrrr @aew-regression-cove

[ccwpidsblog]

please please please — r.sukuna

⭐️: nsfw 18+ in which he’ll never let you leave.

cupids arrows: i suck at summaries so just read

You guessed annoyed was the right word for this situation—a safe, polite choice for the chaos bubbling inside you. There were sharper, more colorful words sitting on the edge of your tongue, tempting you, waiting for release. But you promised yourself, long ago, that you wouldn’t stoop to vulgar language to express your frustrations with him. No, annoyed would do just fine.

A deep frown creased your pretty face as you stood outside the county jail, arms crossed tightly over your chest. Your fiance strolled toward you with the swagger of a man who believed himself invincible. Sukuna. Pink-haired menace, king of smug grins and bad decisions. He moved like he owned the damn place, bag slung carelessly over one shoulder, probably having spent the last hour bragging to the guards about his inevitable freedom.

The closer he got, the hotter your blood began to simmer—not the good kind of heat that once set your heart racing, but a slow, steady boil of anger that threatened to spill over.

He reached you, unbothered as always, and pulled you against him without warning. His strong hands settled on your hips, tugging you flush against his chest. “My pretty girl” he murmured, the low rasp of his voice sending a shiver down your spine—one you despised feeling right now. His face buried in the crook of your neck, inhaling deeply, taking in that signature scent of vanilla and coconut that he claimed was his favorite. He squeezed your ass for good measure, like you weren’t scowling at him.

When he finally leaned back, those crimson eyes met yours. He noticed the way your brows pinched together, the furrow in your forehead, the tension pulling at every inch of your face.

“Tch.” He rolled his eyes, kissed your forehead as if that might smooth over your irritation, then flicked it softly with his fingers. Before you could bark at him, he grabbed you by the waist again and hoisted you onto the hood of his car like a doll.

“Fix your fuckin’ face,” he said, tone gruff, like you were the one causing problems.

Your lip curled in disgust. “No.”

You sounded petulant, childish even, but you didn’t care. He sighed heavily and tilted your chin up, trying to pull you into a kiss. You turned your head away, hopping off the hood and making a beeline for the driver’s side door.

He followed, of course, because Sukuna never let you have the last word. He yanked the door open for you with a dramatic flourish, standing there and looming over you for a moment before shaking his head and slamming it shut behind you.

Sukuna Ryomen was a piece of work.

Quick to anger. Always in and out of jail. Rude beyond reason with a tongue sharper than glass. He lived his life the way he wanted—rules and consequences be damned. And despite all of that, you loved him. How, you still weren’t sure.

It didn’t make sense. You were complete opposites.

You were a law-abiding citizen, a woman who had worked hard her entire life. You graduated seventh in your class from Harvard Law and carved out a successful career as a private, highly sought-after defense attorney. Yet somehow, all that prestige and polish meant nothing when it came to him.

Time and time again, you’d find yourself standing before a judge, legal arguments at the ready, fighting tooth and nail to keep Sukuna from rotting behind bars. Lowering his sentences, dismissing charges, outmaneuvering prosecutors—all to clean up messes he created.

Tonight, though? Tonight you were done.

You were tired. Tired of his cocky smirk and uncaring attitude. Tired of bending over mountains of paperwork, sacrificing sleep, just to make sure he didn’t throw his life away. Tired of waking up in an empty bed because he decided a night in a jail cell was somehow more appealing than being next to you.

You made excuses for him constantly. To yourself. To your friends, who rolled their eyes every time you said, “It’s just his culture…he was raised that way.” You weren’t fooling anyone, though—not even yourself.

You hadn’t spoken since the drive home. The silence stretched between you like an invisible wall, growing heavier with every passing second. Sukuna sat on the edge of your bed, legs spread wide, his muscular arms crossed over his chest as he watched you move. His sharp gaze followed every step you took along the dresser, every rustle of your pink satin nightgown as you tied your hair up for the night.

His patience was wearing thin. You could feel it.

“What the fuck’s up with you?” he asked, voice laced with irritation. It wasn’t the first time he’d said it tonight.

You let out a slow breath, keeping your back to him. “I’m just tired, ‘Kuna.”

“Tired, my ass.” The bed creaked as he stood, footsteps heavy as he walked closer. “You’ve only said twenty fuckin’ words since we got home. Cut the shit, princess.”

Your eye twitched at his condescension. You tugged at the strings of your bonnet, steadying yourself. “I just want to sleep.”

The tension in the room thickened like smoke. Sukuna’s eyes narrowed, his body going rigid. “You got somethin’ to say? Say it now.”

Finally, you turned to face him. Your exhaustion bled through every word. “I just want to sleep, Sukuna. Can I do that? Or do I need to stay up and watch you all night—make sure you don’t run off and land yourself in jail again?”

He scoffed, a dry, humorless laugh. “I don’t need you to do shit.”

Your voice cracked like a whip. “Well, I can’t fucking tell, Ryomen! Who do you call when you get in trouble? Hm? Because it sure as hell isn’t your brothers or your broke-ass buddies, Toji and Gojo.”

His mouth opened to fire back, but you didn’t give him the chance.

“It’s me. Every. Damn. Time.” Your voice shook, hands trembling as you jabbed your finger at him. “Everything I do for you is because I love you, but there’s only so much I can give, Sukuna.”

His confusion deepened as you reached for your left hand, fingers brushing the diamond ring he gave you years ago.

“We’ve been doing this for far too long,” you said softly. “I’m not that young, naive girl anymore—the one who used to follow you around while you beat the shit out of guys who owed you money. I’m a lawyer. I have a reputation, a business. I want to get married to a man who doesn’t have me fearing I’ll lose him every single day.”

Sukuna ran a hand down his face, exhaling slowly. He didn’t yell. Didn’t argue. He just stood there, staring at you like you’d ripped the ground out from under him.

He always knew this day would come. It haunted him every time you visited him in jail, every time you posted his bail, every time you cleaned the bruises on his fists. It was like a ticking time bomb he’d chosen to ignore.

But after seven long years, he realized something else—it was far too late for you to leave him.

“Kuna, please!” Your protests came out muffled, his large, calloused hand clamping over your mouth without mercy. You weren’t sure how he’d managed to tie your hands so quickly, leaving you utterly at his mercy, but not without a fight. The evidence was clear—faint streaks of blood from the bite marks you’d left on his forearm, and the bright outline of your handprint blooming red across his cheek.

He didn’t care.

His weight bore down on you, pinning your legs against your chest until your knees nearly touched your ears. Every inch of his massive body pressed into you, forcing you to take him as he bullied his way through your slick, trembling walls.

“Shut it with your bitchin’,” he growled, his voice low and gruff as it rattled through your chest.

“I’ve heard enough of it.”

He huffed, his grip tightening around your trembling ankles as he drove into you with rough, punishing strokes. Each thrust sent shockwaves through your body, his movements calculated to leave you breathless and aching. This wasn’t how he planned to take you tonight— no, he had intended to ease into it, to love you nice and slow, for old times’ sake. But you had pushed him, testing his limits with the sharp, frustrated words that always seemed to fly from your mouth when you were upset with him.

“You gonna be a good girl,” he growled, voice low and menacing, “and take it like you always do.”

His tone made your breath hitch, each word sinking deep as he claimed you fully, leaving you no choice but to surrender to him.

You let out a string of curses and helpless squeaks as he rammed into that devastatingly sweet spot, each thrust pulling another whimper from your trembling lips. Drool spilled from the corners of your mouth, trailing down to join the salty tears streaking from your misted eyes.

“Can’t… I can’t—” you choked out, voice catching between broken cries.

He hissed sharply, a large hand cupping your cheeks, squeezing them together until your face scrunched in his palm. His crimson eyes burned into yours, wild and unrelenting. “You can, and you fuckin’ will,” he growled, words rough and ragged. “You think you can leave me? Are you crazy, girl?”

There was something more behind his voice now—an edge of desperation that cut through the roughness, raw and trembling. And suddenly, your tears weren’t just from pleasure.

“You’re never gonna leave me. Ever,” he whispered fiercely, his breath hot against your ear. “I’m gonna get it together for you—I swear I will. I’ll be the best husband, the best dad, the best everything for you.”

There was a crack in his voice, barely noticeable but enough to send your heart reeling. He buried his face into the crook of your neck, his weight pressing down on you, arms locking you in a crushing bear hug. Yet his hips never faltered, his movements still deep, steady, and merciless.

“I fucking promise, baby. I promise I will,” he grunted against your ear, the words vibrating through your bones.

“Please, please, please—” you squealed, the tension coiling tighter and tighter as your body arched into him. Your peaks crashed down together, a shared release that left you breathless, hearts pounding in unison.

The room settled into a quiet stillness, the kind that only comes after the storm, as Sukuna’s arms wrapped snugly around you. Your cheek rested against his chest, the steady rise and fall of his breathing lulling you into a sense of calm. His fingers traced slow, lazy circles along your bare back, a silent rhythm that grounded you in the moment.

“You okay?” he murmured after a beat, his voice softer now, rough edges smoothed by the lingering warmth between you.

You giggled softly, shifting slightly as your fingers skimmed the deep, faintly red marks you’d left on his back. Your touch followed the crescent bite marks on his shoulder, evidence of your earlier resistance. “I should be asking you that,” you teased, your voice light with humor despite your exhaustion.

Sukuna huffed out a short laugh, the sound low and rumbling beneath your ear. “Tch. I’m fine,” he replied, though his smirk gave him away. “I barely felt it.”

You rolled your eyes and lightly trailed your nails down the expanse of his back, earning a faint shiver from him despite his tough words. “Oh, really? Because these marks tell a different story.”

“Don’t get cocky now,” he shot back, grinning as he tilted his head to look down at you. His crimson eyes softened when he caught sight of your smile, your face warm and glowing in the soft light. “You fight dirty, you know that?”

You shrugged with a smirk of your own. “You started it.”

He let out another low chuckle, one of his hands coming up to cradle your cheek. “And I’ll finish it, too, every time.” His thumb brushed tenderly over your lips before he leaned down, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

There was a lingering pause as his lips lingered against your skin, his voice dropping to a murmur. “But I meant it, y’know… about getting my shit together for you.”

Your teasing smile softened, your heart squeezing at the sincerity in his tone. You let your hand drift up to his face, fingertips tracing the faint marks you’d left on his cheek earlier. “I know, Kuna,” you whispered. “Just don’t say it—show me, okay?”

His eyes met yours, steady and unwavering. “I will,” he promised, his voice quiet but firm.

You offered a small smile, leaning into his touch as you pressed a gentle kiss to his palm. “Good. Because as much as I love leaving marks on you… I love you even more.”

The corner of his mouth quirked into a grin as he tightened his arms around you, pulling you flush against him. “Yeah, yeah. You’re stuck with me, princess.”

You rolled your eyes again, but your smile betrayed you as you nestled closer to him, your fingers absentmindedly tracing patterns along his chest.

For the first time in a long time, the silence felt peaceful—comfortable, even. And as you lay in his embrace, the world outside didn’t seem so overwhelming.

For now, this was enough.

[dark-and-kawaii]

ʚ♡ɞ New Life & Beginnings ʚ♡ɞ

- Rolan x F!Tav/Reader

- Zevlor x F!Tav/Reader

- Raphael x F!Tav/Reader

✧˖°. Summary: Separate stories involving Rolan, Zevlor, and Raphael with their newborns.

✧˖°. Notes: I’m a sucker for these men being dads, and I just needed some softness… And a little angst for Zevlor

✦ Fluff | Prt 1. For Zevlor but not needed to read this | Hint of Angst For Zevlor & Rolan | Dadphael

Rolan

Rolan stood by the window, cradling a newborn in his arms. The child, swaddled in soft, faded blue linens, was a stark contrast to the crimson of Rolan's skin. His tail swayed gently back and forth in rhythm with the quiet hum he sang to soothe the infant.

It was a rare sight indeed. He never thought he’d hum to some infant, let alone his very own. But he figured this child, his child, deserved everything he never got to experience. His own childhood had been marked by absence, devoid of a loving mothers touch and a fathers protection…

Life had not always been kind to Rolan. As an orphaned tiefling with horns that curled back like the branches of a twisted tree and eyes the color of molten gold, he had wandered through his early years shrouded in solitude. No last name to claim, no family to return to after his day's adventures. That was until Cal and Lia found him.

Now, here he stands in a grand tower to call his own, his life transformed yet again. The room was filled with the quiet murmur of a new beginning. His gaze drifted towards the bundle of pillows on the floor where you, his beloved, rested deeply. The labor had been long and taxing, and Rolan despised the fact it happened here in the tower. Still though, a faint smile crossed his features as he whispered a heartfelt, “Thank you.”

The infant, perhaps sensing the warmth of his father's gratitude, joined in on the thanks and cooed softly, a delicate sound that seemed to stitch the very air with joy and its very own magic. Rolan chuckled, a sound rich with love, and lowered his face to plant a gentle kiss on the baby’s forehead.

But the tranquility of the moment was abruptly punctuated by a tiny sneeze from his little one. Reflexively, Rolan pulled back slightly, just in time to see a small flame burst forth from the baby’s nostrils... The flame caught the ends of Rolan’s hair, igniting them with a soft fizz.

Rolan's initial annoyance flickered across his face as quickly as the flame had caught his hair. He patted down the singed ends with a practiced hand, his expression melting into one of bewildered joy. The tiny sneeze had revealed something extraordinary about his child.

“By the stars,” Rolan murmured, his annoyance flickering away as quickly as it had ignited, replaced by a surge of excitement. “A sorcerer?… Or should I say, sorceress?” His voice was a mix of wonder and pride as he looked down at his daughter, whose big eyes blinked back at him, unaware of her fiery debut, “If you wish to master your skills you’ll need a good teacher. Thankfully you have everything you need- right here.”

Turning back towards the cozy corner where you slept, his tail continued swishing softly behind him. Carefully, almost tenderly, he nudged the sheet with the tip of his tail, pulling it up to tuck around you more securely. He then sat down beside you, his smile never wavering.

“I- I can't thank you enough,” Rolan reached for your hand, holding it gently between his, “Before you, my world was a tapestry with beautiful threads but no real picture.” he glanced down at yours and his daughter, “you've helped me start a family to call my own, besides Cal and Lia.”

His tail curled around, encircling both himself and his daughter as he continued to hold your hand.

Once an orphan, now a cherished father and partner. Rolan found himself at the center of his own growing family, with a sense of belonging he had never imagined possible.

Zevlor

His sleep was anything but peaceful… Zevlor tossed his head from side to side, his features twisting in torment. The sheets were crumpled beneath him, damp with sweat, as he muttered a sullen, “gods... no.” Each word was a whisper of despair, barely escaping his lips as the nightmare clenched its cold fingers around his mind.

In the throes of his dream, he found himself with blood stained hands as you lay lifeless in his arms. His hands tainted with your blood, his own sword impaled through your slightly distended abdomen… The nightmare depicted a grim scene where the influence of the Absolute had pushed him too far. By the time he realized his actions, it was tragically too late…

While holding your still form, Zevlor shut his eyes tightly, tear drops forming at their edges, desperately praying to any deity that might hear his cries, begging that this horror was not reality. Yet, upon reopening his eyes, the haunting image remained unchanged… There you were, still and devoid of life. His hand grazed your stomach, his head resting against yours, as he envisioned the life that might have been…

The tiefling bolted upright, shaken from the harrowing nightmare, his heartbeat pounding as the nightmarish visions clung to his mind. He extended his hand hesitantly, a wave of relief washing over him when he felt the comforting warmth of your sleeping figure beside him.

“It was only just a dream…” he whispered, though the words did little to calm his frayed nerves. Rolling onto his side, he pulled you close, his tail coiling around your leg to help keep you in place. He took a deep breath, inhaling your familiar scent as if to reassure himself of your presence. You stirred slightly but did not wake, for which he was grateful. He did not think he could speak of the horrors he'd seen. Far too afraid that you might have regrets keeping him at your side.

With a tilt of his head, Zevlor surveyed the room in search of the sole other treasure that held immense value in his existence. His infernal gaze landed on the crib where his beloved child peacefully slumbered. Silently he stood and peered into the crib, observing the delicate rhythm of his precious newborn’s tranquil breaths, finding solace in their steady respiration. Recollections of tender smiles and tiny grasping fingers alleviated the remnants of fear lingering in his thoughts.

How close he'd come to losing everything that day… When the absolute swayed him… Never again though. Never.

Quietly, Zevlor lifted the babe and returned to your side.

Holding his child close, the newborn's tiny heartbeat and warmth proof that the nightmare was not truly a reality.

“I vow to you, my child, and to your mother,” he whispered softly, his voice a tender rumble in the quiet of the night. “I will be your shield, your protector. No harm shall come to you as long as I draw breath.”

Zevlor's gaze shifted from the baby back to you. The sight of you both, safe and sound, was truly a balm to his troubled soul. Carefully, he adjusted his child in his arms, ensuring they were snug and secure. With a deep, steadying breath, he allowed himself a moment to simply be present, soaking in the quiet joy of fatherhood and being your lover. The fears of his nightmare seemed to dissolve, replaced by a quiet confidence borne of love and duty.

As the night deepened, Zevlor continued to watch over his little family. Every so often, he would gently touch the baby's cheek or brush a soft kiss against your forehead. These small acts reaffirming himself that this comforting reality was indeed true, not merely an illusion.

Raphael

In your room where shadows danced with the dim candlelight, all was silent except for your gentle breaths as you slept soundly. The bed, large and ornate, cradled not only your dreams but also a newborn, wrapped in delicate linens embroidered with gold stitches. You, with a serene expression, appeared as a portrait of peace as you held your infant close to your heart.

It was always around this time that the air shifted subtly, a warmth flooding the room, a sharp scent of sulfur and cherries mingling with your very own fragrance. From the darker corners of the room emerged a figure, tall and imposing, wrapped in fine silks to match the hells of which he was born from.

As Raphael approached the bed, his movements were silent, almost reverent. His fingers, warm and soft, traced a path up your exposed arm, stopping just short of your face. For a moment, he merely stood, his gaze shifting between you and the child nestled within your arms. A rare, tender expression softened the harsh lines of his face.

With the care of one who handles precious artifacts, Raphael gently brushed a strand of hair from your face. His touch was surprisingly tender, a contrast to his usual character. “Such a sleepy little mouse,” he murmured with an affectionate tone, one that seemed unfamiliar on his lips, “how quaint.”

Carefully, he lifted the infant from your embrace. The baby, undisturbed, continued to sleep, her tiny chest rising and falling in a calm rhythm. Raphael seated himself on the edge of the bed, ensuring every movement was calculated and silent, not to disturb the peaceful slumber of the infant's mother, you.

Holding the child merely inches from him, he looked at her with a complex mixture of emotions; affection, pride, perhaps even a hint of fear. His eyes, usually so piercing and cold, warmed as they rested on the child's placid face.

Raphael's attention was momentarily drawn to the balcony where a pseudo dragon perched, its eyes fixed on him with an unblinking gaze. The creature, a guardian by nature, watched with a protective intensity, ready to act should it perceive any threat to the child.

Turning his gaze back to the infant, Raphael spoke softly, his voice a whisper that carried weight and promise, “When she is grown, she will rule the nine hells with me.” The declaration was not just a statement of future events; it was a father's vow, a ruler's plan, “the perfect heir.” His daughter, this innocent soul, was not just any infant; she was his daughter, destined to share his ruling over the realms of damnation.

The room remained silent, the only sound the occasional flutter of the pseudo dragon's wings and the steady breathing of you and his child. Raphael continued to hold his daughter, his mind undoubtedly racing with plans and dreams of what was to come. For now, however, this moment was tender, a father bonding with his daughter, their future sprawling before them like the starlit sky outside the balcony.

[wukyma]

I'm very curious about your Posepoli AU if you are OK with sharing facts about it ? Maybe what you have in mind? Or what Poseidon have in mind withvhis proposition 🤔 I can't only imagine the crew reaction

Also I'm in absolute love with your art ! The way you color? Your Odysseus ? Incredible. Make me think about fairy tales book illustrations you know ? And don't let go on your design of Poseidon ? He look so cold and distanced, it's actually genius!

Oh, thank you so much 💖 It means a lot! I loved illustrated fairytales as a kid and had a similar book of Greek myths, so that's probably where the style comes from, hehe

As for the AU... I lied shamelessly in the other post and speedran through coloring the panels and imma show y'all everything today!

If you haven't seen the previous one go check it out first

SO, Polites lives. But now he has to cope with the consequences of their recklessness,,

⬇️⬇️⬇️ cut because yapping again

The wind bag gets opened, and they're faced with Poseidon seeking revenge,,

Odysseus' apology isn't accepted (who even apologizes like that??), but Poseidon doesn't get to strike him —

Polites steps in and asks for them to be spared.

The god almost laughs in his face because that's an utterly ridiculous attempt, but decides that there's no harm in amusing himself a bit. Yet, no matter what Poseidon thinks about the man and how much he despises his ideals,, Polites is very different from most mortals he met, with his unshakeable belief in a better world (that realization happens much later in the plot, at the moment he's just pissed off)

So, yeah. Poseidon gives them a challenge: if they find another way around the storm, continue their journey without harming or killing (as per Poli's ideology), and get home, he will spare everyone, even Odysseus. The one who's formally "responsible" for holding up their end of the deal is still Polites, and he gets a kind of seal/tattoo as proof that neither side will go against the terms (yay ✨️aesthetics ✨️)

Forgot to mention: the whole crew is alive — 600 men making their way to Ithaca!

Next stop would be Circe's island,,, guess who will become besties? Ehehwhe

Things I believe are important to mention:

Poseidon REALLY doesn't like Polites in this AU (well,, for now) and wants to see him fail, then drown the fleet and be done with it

His main motivation here wouldn't be to avenge Polyphemus, but to prove that Polites is wrong (same as with Odysseus, but more intense)

Get ready for tons of mockery in the next part ( ；∀；)

I headcanon (not just in this AU but in general) that Polites, Perimedes, and Elpenor are also very close friends!

Odysseus is oblivious about Poli's feelings towards him (dude is mole-blind when it comes to that), but Eurylochus knows

Umm, so that's it for now! See y'all next time, because telling things without throwing pictures in seems meh... However, that's up to you, too. I can continue as it is and draw the scenes you'd like to see and/or choose later :3 Just write how u think would be more okayish i guess??

Bonus thing: congrats on reading till the end lol. there is one inconsistency in the comic above. at the sketch stage I flipped 3 of these panels, and they don't match with the other ones (seen in the details) first one to guess (say the nr order, idc) gets to request ANYTHING epic‐related from me :D

[underfvced]

Human! Muzan Kibutsuji Headcanons

SFW | NSFW

• Premise: You are the beloved wife of Muzan Kibutsuji, although it was a arranged marriage your love for Muzan Kibutsuji was real. so what is it exactly like being his wife?

{SFW}

- Muzan always hated the fact that he have a sickness that is almost impossible to cure so he is always mad about it leading to him having such a nasty personality.

- He mostly takes his anger out on his own Servants and his doctor to whom he refer to as 'Fraudulent Doctor'

- In the beginning, Muzan despised you and didn't want to be near you.

- "Why the fuck do I even need a wife? She's as useless as the servants!"

- You dislike his nasty personality but you also understood that he's only mad about his illness that he takes his anger out on others.

- Despite Muzan's cruel words and actions, you have continued to look after him no matter how hard he tries to push you away.

- But as time goes on, Muzan started to appreciate the love and care that he is receiving from you

- And eventually he developed feelings for you

- He'd still be tough on you, but not so tough.

- Sometimes when he notices how tired you are, he wouldn't say cruel words towards you like what he usually does but instead he would be quiet

- In the end, you would notice that he's too quiet so you started asking him questions if he's okay

- He would get mad at you for asking such a question

- "Do I look okay? I have a fucking illness you dumb woman! just shut the fuck up and rest for the day"

- His sentence got you confused, You don't even know whether he's being cruel or nice

- When it comes to drinking medicine, he would make a huge fuss over it saying that it wouldn't even work but when it's you he would just drink it quietly he would still roll his eyes at you though or let out a 'tch' sound

- He only wants YOU to take care of him and refuses to let anyone else to take the spot

- the only time he lets anyone else do it is when you are sick

- since his body is weak he couldn't really take you out on fancy dates

- but sometimes when he feels like having a date with you he would make his servants cook and prepare a romantic table just for the two of you at home

- Muzan's favorite thing to do is to cuddle with you, he won't admit it but he really enjoys your company and touch

- although he wouldn't really ask directly, he would stare deeply into your eyes in silent with a >:| face

- "Do you need anything?"

- "You already know what I want"

- Aside Muzan's nasty personality, he also have a soft personality that only YOU have access to

- When muzan can't sleep at late night, you and him would have a conversation about life and would often be joking around with each other

- "Would you find someone else if I died?"

- "Don't say stuffs like that, You will survive you just have to believe in yourself"

- "Don't be so dramatic Y/N. it's just a what if, I want to hear your honest answer."

- "No, I don't want to... I'd rather stay at your grave for hours!"

- "Just hours?"

- "No, I'll live in your grave"

- "Good"

- That conversation right there is one of the rare moments you have with him since 99% of the time he's an asshole to you and his servants mostly his doctor

- "Y/N, When my illness is gone. I promise to give you the best life you deserve."

{NSFW}

- DICK: 4 soft, 6'5 erected (Length), 6 in girth, curved upward, Veiny, hairy and tip color is ff9999

- He whimpers

- He's more submissive than dominant due to his body being weak

- You are the one who initiates

- His favorite part of sex is his dick getting sucked on by you

- He likes shoving his cock all the way down your throat

- And he thinks that you are really pretty with his cock on your mouth

- "f-fuck y/n. . . You're sucking it so good~"

- Since he has low stamina you are usually the one on top and the sex position you often do is Cowgirl and Reverse cowgirl

- While doing cowgirl his hands would be on your boobs playing with your nipples or sometimes they are just placed at your thighs giving them a squeeze

- If it's reverse cowgirl his hands would be on your hips and just like cow girl they would also be on your thighs

- You would bounce on his cock while he whimpers and begs you for more

- "ah~....ha~ ...pl-please more"

- Seeing muzan beg for more was amusing so you would tease him about it

- "Please what? Use your words my love~"

- He would get annoyed and grunt but greed took over him wanting more and more, he couldn't get enough of you so he would give in to your tease

- "Please Y/N...Please give me more of you"

- "Good boy~"

- And this is where you would bounce faster

- Muzan doesn't really use nicknames in sex because he's not really that sort of a romantic guy so he mostly just calls you by your own name

- And Muzan doesn't want any nicknames from you

- However you threatened that you would stop moving when he doesn't accept the nickname "Good boy" so he had no other choice but to accept the nickname you gave him

- When cumming he prefers to shoot it inside of you, into your mouth or all over your face.

- "Fuck... I'm close"

- If it's inside of you: he would tightly grip on your hips or thighs

- If it's into your mouth: He would ask you to stop bouncing and to suck his dick, after doing so he would have a tight grip on your hair forcing your mouth all the way down while his seed overfilled your mouth

- If it's on your face: He also would ask you to stop bouncing so he could pull out and come in your face, after cumming in your face he would cupped your cheeks admiring the mess he made

- He could only go for 1-2 rounds so if you are left unsatisfied and still wanting more he would just offer you to ride his face

- Poor muzan's dick was so exhausted after just 1 round

- "Seriously woman? Are you fucking trying to drain me?"

- "Please?"

- Muzan's greatest weakness was YOU, he couldn't refuse your request with that cute face of yours

- Too bad his dick was already exhausted so he offers another way to please you

- "Fuck you woman, Just ride my face and after this go kill yourself"

- Aftercare is important in sex but muzan is too weak to move on his own so you have to be the one taking care of him

- After having a warm bath together and putting on some comfy clothes You would bring in some foods for you and Muzan to eat together.

- After eating, Muzan will offer to let you cuddle with him to which you always Accepts and never once have refused.

- "I hate you but I also love you, but I still hate you more"

- "I love you most"