#that way it won’t hurt as much when he leaves

[basicallyjeankirschtein]

lost and found - toji x reader x sukuna

chapter 8

summary: gojo is an asshole. sukunas there for you, though (and toji)

* ooc, MDNI, mentioned dubcon (between gojo and reader) because reader was under the influence, toji being shameless(and a freak), mentioned masturbation and dacryphilia

not proofread

masterlist. prev. next

you were shocked gojo would even think about bringing that night up. even more so hurt, you guys promised to never bring that up again. and to imply that you were hooking up with sukuna? that was disgusting.

two months ago when you were beginning to introduce shoko and utahime together, shoko invited you two to a party. gojo clearly wanted to tag along, so the two of you reluctantly agreed (with shokos approval, of course).

at the party, shoko and utahime obviously hooked up. everyone could see the tension between them, and you were happy for them. but that left you and gojo alone, and after coercing you to drink much more than you wanted, the two of you ended up hooking up, as well. gojo must’ve been jealous utahime was getting more pussy than him.

you don’t remember the night at all. you were way too drunk, but gojo could strangely remember everything. you didn’t know how, considering he claimed to also be drunk.

you were tired of this disrespect. you were known to be a compliant, quiet girl. you always let others take advantage and disrespect you, but you were honestly sick of it. you’ve had so many bottled up emotions over the years of letting people walk all over you, and you think it’s finally time you stand up for yourself.

you did not hesitate to block gojo. yea, maybe he’ll tell everyone you guys had sex or whatever, but it’s not like he had evidence. you’ll just say it never happened and use your scary dog privileges (sukuna) to make him back off.

could you consider sukuna someone you could trust? he told you if gojo ever did anything, he’d be there to help. so you did consider him someone you could trust, despite how scary he was.

someone delivered your shower products just as sukuna finally reappeared.

“sorry,” sukuna said in his usual (and insanely attractive) gruff voice.

“i told toji off. he won’t bother you anymore.”

you didn’t want to know what sukuna did to make toji stop, so you just smiled at him.

“it’s okay, really.” you said, trying to sound as appreciative as possible. “could you help me with the shower? and i know you told me not to pay you back, but im going to anyway-“

sukuna grunted, his face going red once more. is it hot in here? if it was, you didn’t feel it.

“help… you in the shower?”

you tilted your head, confused why he was acting so fidgety. “if you don’t mind… i just need you to show me which direction to turn the knob to make it hot-“ you felt stupid for asking. he probably thought you were an idiot.

“oh.” he coughed, quickly pushing past you to the bathroom,

“how hot do you like it?” he asked, his face turned away from you (much to your dismay).

“i want to feel like im boiling alive.”

sukuna snorted at your response. it was cute, causing you to laugh as well.

“it’ll take a minute to heat up, just yell for me if you need anything.” he told you, still avoiding eye contact as she made his way past you and to the door.

before leaving, he called over his shoulder,

“and i told you not to worry about paying me back.”

with that, he closed the door behind him, and once again, you were alone. you made sure to lock the door behind him, not wanting toji to waltz in again like he owned the place (well, he did).

you hummed as you stripped yourself, setting your clothes down beside the towel sukuna left for you by the sink. you hated putting on dirty clothes, especially after a shower, but it’ll have to do.

almost as if toji could read your mind, he knocked on the bathroom door. this caused you to jump, a bit shocked by the sudden noise.

at least this time he knocked.

“did sukuna leave you any clothes?” he asked, his voice deep and gruff. they both had that same almost scary tone to their voice, a roughness to it, yet you could somehow easily tell the two apart.

“um, no, it’s alright.” you yelled from behind the door, covering yourself up despite the door being locked.

“need a pair?” he asked. you glanced at your used clothes, biting your lip as you pondered if you should take him up on his offer.

“if you don’t mind?” you finally responded. you got no response, only the sound of footsteps fading away.

you wondered if he was leaving to get you clothes, or if he just did that to mess with you. you scrunched your face up in confusion, this guy was weird.

you shrugged to yourself, not expecting him to come back after the fifth minute. he must’ve just been teasing, what a weirdo.

you sighed, moving the curtain to the side so you could step in the shower, and then, of course, toji knocked. tool him long enough.

“i’ve got you some clothes, doll. sorry i took a while, was trying to find some old clothes that might be smaller so they’d fit.”

you blinked, still shocked he came back. you stepped out of the shower, wrapping the towel around you as you quietly stepped towards the door.

as if noticing you discomfort and hesitation, toji spoke up, “i’ll leave them for you out here if you’re too shy to take them from me.”

you didn’t know if he was flirting, teasing, or mocking.

but, you knew he left because you could hear the sound of his footsteps fading away once more.

you were quick to open the bathroom door when you couldn’t hear his footsteps anymore, a small pile of clothes (that were definitely too big) on the ground.

you practically slammed the door behind you after retrieving the clothes, terrified one of them would see you, whining when you noticed the size. this would definitely not fit. the boxers, at least.

it was nice of him to try to get smaller sizes for you, but god, he was huge. this wouldn’t fit anybody.

you decided that would be a problem for later you, and you should instead focus on showering before you used up of their hot water.

you stepped in, once again thankful for sukunas credit card buying you the shower supplies when your gaze turned to the mystical, definitely not safe, six in one bottle of shampoo and conditioner. what were the other four, you wondered…

as much as you’d love to keep these delicious strawberry scentened products, you thought you’d be doing them a favor by keeping them here. not only did sukuna pay for them, but they probably had some unknown chemicals creating a new disease in that six in one bottle. they’d have to suck up smelling like strawberries, you said to yourself as you made a mental note to throw out that bottle, maybe burn it. you’d be doing them a favor.

while you loved to take long showers, you were mindful of their water bill and only took as long as necessary (which was still long).

you stepped out, the bathroom was steamy, you weren’t visible in the mirror. you childishly drew a smiley face on the mirror, unable to resist with a giggle.

now, the problem.

the clothes.

you couldn’t even ask sukuna for a pair of his clothes, as he was just as big as toji. either way, they’d be falling off. but, it was better than used clothes, right?

you slipped the oversized t-shirt on, the material practically drowning you. it landed just above your mid thigh, making you look small in comparison.

while you disliked used clothes, you thought it would be best to throw your bra on under it. the neck of the shirt was so loose around you, if they were to look at you from a taller angle (which, they always are), you’d be flashing the poor men.

you however do NOT want to put back on your used panties. you didn’t know why, considering it was your pussy, but you disliked the idea of wearing the same pair of panties more than once without being washed. it was just one of those little things that grossed you out.

boxers were technically underwear, right? you thought to yourself, pulling the ridiculously large pair up. they barely clung to your hip, much to your dismay.

well, it would just be tonight. you thought, trying to wiggle them up higher, but they just kept falling down your waist and to your hips. at least the shirt covered you.

you stepped out of the bathroom, the overpowering scent of strawberries following you into the living room where both men sat on the couch.

“you smell nice,” sukuna spoke, his gaze immediately wandering to your toji’s clothes. you could see the faint envy in his eyes.

“thank you,” you said with a soft smile, “you can keep all that stuff. it smells nice and it’s way better than whatever that six in one concoction is..”

“are you saying that because you want us to keep it, or because you plan on coming here more often?”

the question sprung up by toji caught you off guard. once again, you couldn’t tell if he was flirting, teasing, or mocking. he always had that same somewhat malicious tone to his voice, but as you’ve come to know of sukuna, you think that’s just how he normally sounds- rather than being rude towards you.

“both…?” you decided to answer, a bit confused with both his question and your answer. you wouldn’t mind coming to see them more, they were nice, but you weren’t sure if toji meant it in a sexual way or not.

“then i suppose i can see you in my clothes often, too?”

oh, he was totally flirting.

it seems sukuna telling him off didn’t scare toji off for long, because here he was, shamelessly flirting with you infront of sukuna.

sukuna was definitely going to beat up toji.

sukuna, not wanting to scare you, decided to bring you to his room so he wouldn’t hear him and toji arguing. he made sure to let you know that you can sleep in his room, he’d just crash out on the couch. he said you were welcome to lock the door if you felt uncomfortable, god, he had too much trust in you for a guy you just met. you were going to protest, but he was quick to shut the door behind him. as usual.

you bit your lip, looking around his room. this was awkward, you thought. you didn’t want to be the reason the two were arguing.

you felt beyond guilty for even dragging sukuna into your own mess. you should’ve just dealt with gojo yourself, you shouldn’t have even accepted his offer to help.

was it sensitive of you to cry? maybe, but you were so pent up. you still haven’t properly accepted the fact that you just practically lost all your friends.

what you needed was a good cry, and thankfully for you, they were too busy arguing to hear your small, pitiful whimpers as you hugged yourself close, finally letting yourself go after having such a terrible day.

arguing over text when they were sitting right next to each other was a little funny. but when toji admitted he was also looking to an actual relationship with you, sukuna got angry. not even uraume could help them with this argument.

the two have never fought over a girl before, neither of them were the type to be in a committed relationship.

but now, it was different.

sukuna was sure toji was only claiming that because he hated when sukuna had something he didn’t.

the two argued that night, although both were mindful to keep it down so you wouldn’t hear. although, in the midst of their whisper-yelling, sukuna noticed the sound of your small sobs.

“shut up.” sukuna growled, glaring at toji as he turned to face his bedroom door. the sound of another sob alerted him that you were in fact crying.

“shit.” toji sighed, “you go check on her.”

sukuna was shocked toji was offering for him to do it, considering toji apparently liked you and everything. he gave toji a curt nod, making his way to his bedroom and knocking.

toji could hear sukuna say ‘can i come in?’ softly as he made his way to the bathroom, his gaze immediately shifting to your used clothes discarding on the sink.

toji heard the sound of sukunas door opening and closing, glancing over his shoulder every second to make sure neither of you were coming out.

he discreetly picked up your panties, a cute lacy pair with little pink bows on the side. he stuffed the cute thing in his pocket, swiftly returning to his room.

and that night, as sukuna comforted you and you cried about your misfortunate day, toji wrapped the pair of panties around his cock and thrusted to the sound of your cries.

he came fantasizing about how you would cry on his cock

sorry i got a little freaky there…

taglist

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@seellove @melonmako

[inthehystericalrealm]

Thinking about Pre-Death Best Friend!Reader x Red Hood!Jason Todd who craves the intimate personal connection and affection he once had with you but is so terrified of letting people in that he watches from the sidelines to make sure you’re okay. All he wants is you to be happy.

Jason Todd who hasn’t tried to see you since he came back. He’s seen his family, albeit mostly reluctantly, but he can’t bring himself to insert himself back into your life. Not the way he is now. You won’t want him the way he is now.

Jason Todd who made your apartment a key feature of his patrolling route, your workplace too. You still sometimes walk home alone at night despite how often he told you not to back in his Robin days. You’re just as stubborn as ever and though he worries for your safety, the sense of familiarity it gives him provides a semblance of comfort when everything about him feels so unbelievably wrong now.

Jason Todd who had to try and hide in the small bookstore you both frequent recently. It’s quaint, cozy and feels like taking a step outside of Gotham every time he visits. Something so homey doesn’t belong in this city. Though he supposes it makes sense that you would be here, you feel just as much like home to him. He’s too big to hide behind the shelves standing, so he finds himself crouching, pretending to be looking intently for a novel on the bottom shelf of the classics section. He hasn’t moved an inch since he heard the bell chime, and your voice carry through the space as you shook your damp umbrella off on the doormat. He listens to you chat with the young kid working the counter, picking up a special cloth-bound edition of Pride and Prejudice you’d ordered earlier in the week. It makes him smile, you’d always said you hated classics, that they were boring, until you’d both laid down under the big oak tree that sat on the edge of Wayne Manor’s grounds and let him read it to you. He remembers the sunshine, dappled, and filtering through the leaves. He remembers the way the light kissed your face. How he wished he could do the same. Even then. But he was afraid. Too afraid to risk losing your friendship, the only real one he’d ever had. He’s still too afraid. He supposes not everything about him has changed.

Jason Todd who has accidentally (he thinks, maybe, mostly) started to run into you as Red Hood. Softly knocking on the window from your fire escape. Behaviour uncharacteristic of ‘Red Hood the vigilante’ as you knew him, supposedly gruff and imposing. Asking quietly to monitor an ongoing situation from your fire escape. It really was the best vantage point. Some goon posted himself in the shady alley between buildings, selling drugs to local kids and he needed to make sure he wouldn’t come back again after Hood had put the fear of god in him the night previous. He tries to tell himself that the roof would have obstructed his view too much. If you don’t know about Jason he can’t hurt you so this is okay. You of course say yes. You’ve heard what people have to say about Red Hood, adults and the elite who spit his name with vitriol, but you’ve also seen the kids on the street who excitedly wait for their daily high five from the masked man. You know who you believe. You bring him a bottle of water halfway through the stakeout, you shrug lightly in response to his thank you and return to reading on the couch. Window open, sheer curtains blowing softly in the light breeze. He can’t remember a time he felt so calm.

Part 2

[revelboo]

I thought I loved Transformers but because of you and your writing I realized I am in hopeless servitude to SO MANY OF THESE MECHS. 😩😩 I used to only pine for Bee and the twins but SHIT YOU GOT ME BARKING FOR EVERYONE NOW. I shan’t forgive you for this!!

I regret nothing! 😀

Everything Is Alright Pt 109

IDW Starscream x Reader, Soundwave x Reader, Megatron x Reader

• Relaxing into his warm frame, you let the feel of his palm sliding against your spine lull you and rest your cheek against him, feeling his spark thrumming under you as familiar as your own heartbeat. Listening to him describe the cities of his world, and hearing the wistful longing in his voice, leaves a bitter ache inside you. He misses his home and it’s something you can’t even begin to understand when he’s told you his world was devastated by their war. That there’s no going home for him or any of them. Eyes closing as his servos of his other hand slide against the back of yours, you look up at him. “I’m sorry,” you whisper.

• Venting softly to stir your hair, he looks down at you in surprise. And it is what it is, but that you’re unhappy because he’s unhappy about a world you’ve never even seen means so much. Shifting his plating, there’s a flicker of guilt as his spark snares you and you startle against him. But you don’t resist as he wraps himself around you and that delicate spark he can only just sense. Offering you images of Iacon’s skyline, the exhilaration and freedom of flight. Watching you drift through his memories, feeling your joy sparking through him as he follows you. Circling and studying that inconsistent, gossamer thin shadow of an incomplete bond clinging to your light. We could go flying, he offers, stalling because he knows you’re going to be upset with him for this. Won’t want to understand it’s necessary at first, but you’ll forgive him. You always do. You have to.

• Reaching for a new memory when he offers it, your breath catches as a different alien city glitters beneath you, seen from the air the way he’d seen it. Turning to find him, he engulfs you and it’s not like when you’d been tangled in him before, both of you swimming through each other. You’re caged in his light, overwhelmed and unable to move or think. Confused, but aware of him tearing at you. Destroying something that’s yours, not his. Something he has no right to and you feel the loss jolt through you flinging yourself from him as soon as he releases you. Physical body jerking to get free, to break that contact as he reaches after you. And the connection stretches and snaps, his servos catching your upper arm when you slide half out of his lap. “What did you do?” Can’t breathe, shaking with that awful, wrenching wrongness and it hurts.

• “Our spark is fine,” he soothes, unsettled as you cringe away when he tries to pull you to him. Like you’re afraid of him. Closing his plating, he drags you back to him, hooking an arm around you to keep you there as you splay a hand against him, upset and almost panicking, you’re breathing much quicker than he’s used to. Had it hurt? He’s doesn’t know, but hates the thought. That twists guiltily through him as he curls himself tighter around you. Hadn’t wanted it to hurt, but he had to do it. Had to sever Soundwave’s claim to you. “It’s alright. It’s over.” His own spark aching unpleasantly, unsettled by your distress. You hadn’t known Soundwave that long, not really. Sliding his servos up your spine, his wings droop slightly. “I’m here.” And he’s all you need, because you’re all he needs. Even if you can’t see that he had to sever that leash. Can’t let Soundwave or anyone else control you or him.

• Staggering and nearly dropping the stack of data pads in his hands, it feels like being blindsided. Like when he’d lost the feel of you in his mind, but he can still sense your emotions and you’re upset. Not just upset, hurting. And he can’t sense his bond, the loss almost crippling. Denta clenching behind his mask, his head turns as Megatron looks up in surprise, chin propped on a fist. Aware of the furious sound he’s making, as he storms off the bridge and through the halls. And he’s going to strangle that self-obsessed, paranoid idiot.

• Aware that whatever upset Soundwave is something he probably doesn’t want to be involved in, Megatron is still tempted to go see the fallout. To see what’s made Soundwave that furious. Venting tiredly, he debates following. Sure that he knows exactly where the communications officer is going and that this is somehow about Starscream. It always is.

Previous

Next

Might I recommend ‘Shit’s Gonna Be Ok’ by I Fight Dragons 🥲 I’m sorry, but really. It’ll be fine… Eventually.

[lvrellie]

╭ pairing ⸺ gojo satoru x gn!reader

╭ drabble! ⸺ you’re assigned on a mission you know you won’t come back from. gojo doesn’t know how to handle it. ˖ ⟡ sorry for the angst it’s 1:56 am and i js love him so much

✶⠀‧ . ⊹ ┊

the rest of the evening passes in tense, suffocating silence. satoru doesn’t say another word after telling you to just leave if you really wanted to, but it lingers between you, the anger, the bitterness, the fear he couldn’t bring himself to fully articulate.

you move like a ghost through the apartment, finishing your packing, brushing your teeth, washing your face. it feels wrong to act so normal when the air around you is thick with everything unspoken. you can feel his eyes on you sometimes, watching from the corner of the room, but every time you glance at him, he looks away.

he doesn’t touch you. doesn’t help you. doesn’t say anything.

it isn’t until you’re both in bed, the lights off, that the silence starts to crack under its own weight. you’re lying on your side, your back to him, staring at the wall. he’s on his back, staring at the ceiling.

“you know, i used to think you were invincible,” he says suddenly, his voice low, quiet. it almost startles you, not because of what he’s said, but because it’s the first time he’s spoken in hours.

you turn your head slightly, but not enough to face him. “what do you mean?”

he exhales sharply, like he’s trying to laugh but it comes out bitter instead. “when we first met, i thought nothing could ever hurt you. you were always so sure of yourself. so determined. like you could take on the whole world if you wanted to.”

your throat tightens, and you don’t know what to say to that.

“but now…” his voice trails off, and you feel the mattress shift as he turns onto his side, facing your back. “now, i just keep thinking about how wrong i was. how breakable you really are.”

you close your eyes, willing the tears to stay at bay. you hate this. hate the way his words make your chest ache, hate the way he’s stripping away the walls you’ve built for yourself.

“i’m not breakable, satoru,” you say softly, though even you don’t believe it.

“don’t lie to me,” he whispers, his voice closer now. you can feel the warmth of him behind you, the weight of his words pressing against your back. “i can see it. every time i close my eyes, i see it. you—” he stops, his voice cracking. “you not coming back.”

you feel his hand brush against your arm, hesitant, like he’s afraid you’ll pull away. “i’m not asking you to stay,” he says finally, his voice trembling. “i know you won’t. but i need you to know… i can’t do this without you.”

the rawness in his voice cuts through you, and you feel tears slip down your cheeks before you can stop them.

“i know,” you whisper, your voice barely audible. “but i have to.”

he doesn’t say anything, and the silence feels unbearable.

you shift slightly, turning onto your back so you can see him. his face is close to yours now, his eyes glinting in the dim light filtering through the window. you can see the unshed tears there, the way his jaw is clenched tight like he’s holding himself together with sheer force of will.

“you’re right,” you say, your voice trembling. “i’m not invincible. but neither are you, satoru. you can’t protect me from everything.”

his breath hitches, and he looks away, his hand pulling back from your arm. “i know that,” he says, his voice cold now. “but it doesn’t make it any easier.”

you reach out then, your fingers brushing against his cheek, turning his face back toward you. “i love you,” you say, and the words feel heavy, final. “i love you so much. but this is who i am. this is what i have to do.”

he stares at you for a long moment, his expression unreadable, before he closes his eyes and lets out a shuddering breath. “you’re killing me, you know that?”

you try to smile, but it feels more like a grimace. “i’m sorry.”

he doesn’t respond, doesn’t move, and for a while, the two of you just lie there in the darkness, the sound of your breathing filling the room.

you don’t know how long it is before he finally speaks again, his voice barely above a whisper. “you were the first person who made me think… maybe it’s worth it. love. life. all of it.”

your heart breaks at his words, and you feel a fresh wave of tears threaten to spill.

“don’t lose that,” you say softly, your hand finding his and squeezing it gently.

he doesn’t answer, and you know he won’t.

because the truth is, you’ve already taken it from him.

[toxictruly]

Bigboy simon and his sweet innocent gf :3

MDNI.

Bigboy Simon and his sweet baby are a very odd couple to people, he himself thinks how he bagged such a pretty like you.

Bigboy Simon loves the way you always have to hold his hands everytime you guys are out.

Sometimes he’ll let you hold his index or pinky finger cause he thinks it's soo adorable how his hands are just so big and rough compared to your soft and smooth ones

Bigboy Simon just loves how dependent you are on him, just the smallest things get him so hard.

Like when your struggling to open a jar and cutely call out his name so he can open it for you. Simon obviously opens the jar in a single swift motion and lord help him when you let out a cute giggle and get on your tiptoes and give him a peck thanking him. he gets so fucking hard.

when you try to go back to cooking he grabs you by the back of the neck and smashes his lips on yours. You squeal and whimper from his forcefulness, the way his tongue explores every inch of ur mouth, and his hands grab and feel your tits from the top of your flowy sundress. he slides his hand down to your ass, squeezing and grabbing handfuls so hard it hurts just a bit.. but he just won’t let go until he’s had enough :((

Bigboy Simon loves leaving hickeys,marks bruises on his pretty cause he has to show others your owned by him and him only.

Bigboy Simon who loves eating his pretty out <3 

it makes him so fucking hard and horny when his pretty whimpers and grabs on his hair shoving him deeper down when he circles his tongue just in the right places, makes him grind his hips on the bed

Bigboy Simon loves it when you’re messy. Especially when you start drooling all over the pillows when he roughly fingers your sweet little cunt.

Bigboy Simon leaks so much precum when you start crying when he pounds into you, begging him to stop and that its too much for your cunny to handle But poor baby that won’t stop him…

All he does is fuck you even harder, so hard he reaches all the right places. his cockhead repeteadly hitting your cervix. it hurts so good you start getting all fuzzy.

BIgboy Simon grabs you back by the hair when you try to squirm away from him cause its all just too much for your pretty cunt to handle.

Bigboy Simon will put you in a headlock and whisper nasty degrading things to you all night after that..

And maybe if your a good girl he’ll come inside that cute cunt of yours ;3

[solxamber]

hellooo i just needed to say your writings are like super cute theyre like my bedtime stories atp JHDJJXHS but could i request a little hurt comfort headcanon with adeuce seeing a reader who usually is always very cheerful and upbeat. Theres sometimes theyre anxious and worried but overall reader is seen as someone whos strong emotionally like nothing can bring them down. Until something does get them down with tears rolling down their eyes and theyre desperately trying to hide this side of them that they feel so vulnerable letting others see. How would the boys react to such a situation?

aww thank you <3 i didn't know if you wanted separate or together so you get both!

They react to you breaking down || Ace and Deuce

Ace Trappola

Ace’s immediate reaction would be shock. He’s used to seeing you as a ball of sunshine, someone who shrugs off worries with a laugh or a witty remark. Seeing you cry? That’s uncharted territory for him, and it throws him completely off balance.

“Hey, hey, what’s with the waterworks?” he’d say, trying to keep things light-hearted, even though he’s panicking internally. But when he realizes you’re trying to hide your tears, it hits him like a ton of bricks.

Ace might not be the most emotionally articulate, but he cares deeply. He crouches down to your level, blocking your attempts to turn away from him. “You don’t have to act tough, y’know. It’s okay to be upset. Even you deserve a break from being the strong one all the time.”

He’d sit beside you, offering his sleeve (or maybe a tissue if he can find one) to wipe your tears. “Come on, talk to me. I can be serious… sometimes. I won’t even charge you for my amazing advice!” His humor is his way of trying to comfort you.

Beneath the teasing, he’s surprisingly gentle. He stays close, his presence steady and grounding, and he doesn’t leave your side until you’re ready to face the world again.

Deuce Spade

Deuce would immediately panic at the sight of you crying. “W-What happened?! Did someone hurt you? Who was it? I’ll take care of it!” His first instinct is to go into overprotective mode, even if he has no idea what’s going on yet.

But when he notices you trying to hide your face, his heart aches. He’s always admired how strong and positive you are, but seeing you crumble makes him realize just how much pressure you’ve been under.

“Hey, don’t do that,” he says softly, his voice full of concern. “You don’t have to hide from me. I’m your friend—I want to help.”

Deuce would sit down beside you, his presence calm and reassuring. He might fumble a bit with his words, but his sincerity shines through. “It’s okay to cry. I… I cry too sometimes. It doesn’t make you weak. It just means you’ve been holding a lot in.”

He’d hesitate for a moment before reaching out to gently pat your shoulder or hold your hand, giving you the comfort of physical support. “Whatever it is, we’ll get through it together. You’re not alone in this.”

Deuce is the type to quietly stay by your side, letting you take the lead in how much you want to share. If words don’t help, he’s content to simply sit there, offering you a safe space to feel what you need to feel.

Together

If Ace and Deuce stumble upon you crying together, they’d play off each other in their own chaotic but heartfelt way.

Ace would try to lighten the mood with jokes or teasing, but Deuce would elbow him and say, “Now’s not the time for that!”

They’d both sit with you, Ace on one side and Deuce on the other, creating a protective little bubble where you feel safe to let it all out.

Ace might gently nudge you with his shoulder and say, “Come on, you don’t have to deal with this alone. You’ve got us, remember?”

Deuce would nod earnestly, adding, “Yeah! Whatever’s bothering you, we’ll help you fix it. Or… or at least listen. We’re here for you.”

Their dynamic would be a mix of Ace’s playful energy and Deuce’s heartfelt sincerity, making you feel both comforted and loved. They’d stick with you until your tears turn into smiles, determined to remind you that you’re never alone with them around.

Masterlist

[holylulusworld]

The assistant (12) - 8 times the trouble

Summary: You are invisible most of the time.

Pairing: Former!Boss!Steve Rogers x Former!Assistant(plussized)!Reader

Possible pairing: Jake Jensen x Reader, Lloyd Hansen x Reader, Curtis Everett x Reader, Ari Levinson x Reader, Andy Barber x Reader, Mike Weiss x Reader, Ransom Drysdale x Reader

Warnings: flirty CEvans characters, language, plus-sized/chubby reader, protective brothers, Lloyd being Lloyd, arguments, brothers being brothers, fluff, caring brother

The assistant masterlist

The assistant (11) - Heating pads and cupcakes

“Back to Captain America. Isn’t it odd that he looks so much like Grandfather Steven?”

“What?” All six brothers stare at Ransom, mouth agape. They consider Ransom’s words before they snort.

“What are you talking about? Grandfather didn’t look like Captain Turd,” Lloyd grunts. “How dare you say shit like that!”

“I don’t know.” Andy knits his brows together. “I mean…Ransom is not wrong. Grandfather did have sharp features, matching Rogers’. It’s easy to confuse them.”

“Yeah, because Rogers is grandfather’s age,” Curtis snorts. “Just look at Gramps sit over there, choking on his dry bagel because our food is not good enough for him.”

Mike and Jake stare at Steve; they dip their heads and think about Ransom's words again. “Not sure what you see,” they say in unison.”

“Guys, what’s going on?” You walk into the kitchen, watching the brothers stare at Steve. “You don’t plan on killing Captain Rogers again. Right? We talked about this. No killing before breakfast.”

Lloyd chuckles darkly. “I’ll be waiting for my chance, Cupcake. If anyone kills Captain Turd, it’s me.”

You sigh deeply. “Alright, guys. We need to talk about a few things before Mike and I will go to the meeting of his self-help group later.”

Mike smiles because you didn’t offer to help him and let him down. No, you will keep your promise and help him stay clean.

“We will have cake later,” Mike proudly says. “Maybe ice cream too.”

“I want ice cream too,” Jake pouts. “Can I come with you? I can wait outside for the two of you.”

“Uh—it’s actually family’s day,” Mike nervously murmurs. “I mean…uh—they said we can bring family members today if we want to. It’s not like with the drug addicts anonymous group.”

“How many groups did you join, Mike?” Ari wonders aloud. “And when did you join this self-help group?”

“He joined the group online with my help,” you are quick to help, Mike. “They talked mostly online, but today is a meeting, and he wants to go. I offered to go with him.”

“You’re so good to us,” Lloyd says before wrapping you in a hug. His hands creep toward your ass, and you giggle when he roughly gropes your globes. “So, so good, Cupcake.”

“Lloyd,” you giggle and laugh. “Stop it, you little perv!”

“Aw, I’m her little perv already, guys. You don’t stand a chance!” He grins while feeling your ass up. “She’s putty in my hands.”

“Lloyd Hansen, take your hands off my assistant!” Steve jumps up. He grits his teeth and wants to attack Lloyd, who nuzzles his face in your hair. “I said, let her go.”

“Hey, shut the fuck up!” Curtis growls. “If Y/N doesn’t want my brother to touch her, she’ll tell him to get off. You don’t give her enough credit for being the tough woman she is. Y/N is not a helpless bimbo like the girl you chose over her!”

“Get out of my way,” Steve growls as six of the seven brothers block his way. Even Ransom joined the bunch to stop him from getting anywhere near you. “I’m warning you.”

“No, I’m warning you!” You push Lloyd off you and slap his chest. He smirks but steps away. “You won’t hurt my friends. I chose to live with the brothers after you made me leave the job I loved. You are a guest at our house, and you can stay and watch me be happy around them, or leave right now! I will not allow you to hurt my family!”

The brothers sigh happily and look at you in awe. “Aw, she just admitted that she wants to be all mine,” Lloyd decides before bringing you back in his arms to peck your temple. “Now we will all have breakfast, and later, we’ll bring our little chaos to his group cuddle thing or whatever he’s doing with these guys.”

“And get ice cream,” Jake insists. “We will go for ice cream and have a movie night. Now that we are all back together…”

“Back together,” Curtis sarcastically says. “Right. For how long? Until he decides we are not his family?”

“Curtis, that is enough,” Andy steps in. “I know you are still hurt, but we let Mike back in, and you even allowed me to come back. Let’s give Ransom the benefit of the doubt.”

“Fine—” Curtis crosses his arms over his chest and glares in Ransom’s direction. Ransom glares back, a smirk on his plump lips.

“Fine—” Ransom mimics his brother, already planning to rile Curtis up some more later. They were always close but like fire and water at the same time.

“Aw, that’s so sweet!” You peck Lloyd’s lips before wrapping Curtis in a hug. “I’m so proud of you, my grumpy Curtie. I knew you’d make up.”

Ransom pouts. “Where’s my hug, sugar? I deserve a hug for being a good boy too, don’t you think, sugar? Also, I’m new here and deserve an extra hug for coming here to save my stubborn brothers.”

“Earn it,” Ari growls. “You don’t get free hugs only for being around. Just like Captain Turd.”

Lloyd grins because his brother finally used the right name for Steve.

“All of her hugs belong to me now. She wore my apron, which means she’s mine!”

“Alright, we have plans for today!” Andy stops his brothers before they even get the chance to start the fight. “It’s breakfast time!”

“I can't believe you bought a fucking eight-seater van,” Ransom wrinkles his nose. He shakes his head, not believing his eyes. “Who bought this piece of shit? This monstrosity is an affront to any car!”

“It’s bulletproof, spacious, comfortable, and we all have a seat!” Andy bites back. “I bought it…” He shakes his head, wanting to forget about his family’s fate. “Whatever. Get inside or stay here with Captain Turd.”

“I call shotgun!” Lloyd snickers as the rest of the brothers groan. “If not, I’ll sit in the back, and Y/N can sit in my lap.”

“Noooo!” Jake and Curtis grunt in unison. “She won’t sit in your lap; you will only try to grope her!”

Lloyd puts one hand on his heart, pretending to be offended. “I’m a gentleman and would never do such a thing. Cupcakes knows that.”

“I will come with you! I won’t let you take Y/N to an unknown location!” Steve gets inside the car, calling shotgun before the brothers can stop him.

“Hey! We only have eight seats, you dull brick!” Ransom grunts. “Get out of the car!”

“It’s fine. I can sit in Jake’s lap,” you say before grabbing Jake’s hand to guide him toward one of the seats in the back. “I know he won’t try to grope me.”

You give Lloyd a stern look when he tries to protest.

“Next time, she’ll sit in my lap,” Lloyd says. “No discussion.” He follows you and Jake to claim the seat next to you. “I’ll behave, Cupcake.”

While Jake and you get comfortable in your seat, the other brothers get inside the van. Steve harrumphs. He stares into the rearview mirror, gritting his teeth because you are sitting in Jake’s lap, looking comfortable and relaxed.

“Captain Turd.” Ari gets behind the steering wheel, smirking at Steve. “Don’t be a sore loser. We all want her to sit in our lap…”

[rizlowwritessortof]

Runaway

Square #6 for @jacklesversebingo 😊

You left months ago with no explanation, no contact but a cryptic text to Sam saying "I'm okay." Now you're back, but will Dean forgive you for running away?

Prompt for this one - 'I can give you what you so desperately desire' - in bold in the fic

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Word Count: 2501

Warnings: Angst, makeup sex, brief descriptions of bloody character death IN DREAM ONLY (happy ending, I promise)

Divider by @firefly-graphics

Sam takes your bag when he opens the door, a kind smile flitting quickly across his lips. He follows you down the stairs, and you stop near the large map table, glancing around the room. It looks like home, but it feels uncomfortable, like you don’t quite fit anymore.

You startle a bit when Dean suddenly walks into the room, his steps coming to a halt when he sees you standing there. He turns immediately, taking a couple of steps back the way he came, but then turning back around to enter the room again, his brows drawn together in an angry frown as he glares at you.

“What the hell are you doing here?”

“Dean.” Sam’s voice is a soft rebuke, but there is also understanding behind it. “Maybe this should wait.”

Sam’s hand on your shoulder is the only thing that keeps you from turning to retreat back up the stairs and away from Dean’s expression. The weight of it is too much for you to bear, and you stare at the floor. Hurt has stolen the light from his eyes, clenched his jaw, pressed his lips into a thin line. He looks hard, unapproachable, and you don’t have it in you at the moment to try and break through the seemingly impenetrable shell. You don’t know if you deserve to.

“Come on,” Sam says, urging you forward. “Just get some rest tonight and we’ll deal with everything tomorrow.” Dean stands there still as a statue, silent and cold, arms folded across his chest as Sam ushers you by, guiding you down the hall to one of the many bedrooms. Obviously you won’t be staying in the one you had occupied before you left – the one you had shared with Dean.

Sam closes the door behind him when he leaves you, and you stare around the room. No personal touches, only the bed with the typical Men of Letters-issue bedding, dresser, desk, sink. It feels cold, not exactly unwelcoming, but not warm and inviting, either. That whisper in the back of your mind telling you this was a monumentally stupid idea is getting louder.

You take a quick shower, then go back to the room and crawl into bed even though you know you probably won’t sleep. You toss and turn, stare blindly at the ceiling, but when you pick up your phone and see that it’s two a.m., you finally give up. You pull a flannel shirt on over your tank top and sleep pants, the decanter of whiskey calling to you from the library. A little liquid painkiller seems just the thing you need.

You walk into the library, straight to the liquor cart and pour yourself a generous splash of whiskey. As you turn, you flinch, startled, almost dropping your glass. “Damn it, Dean, what are you doing here? You scared the shit out of me!”

“Apparently I’m doing the same thing you are,” he replies sarcastically.

“You’re sitting here in the dark. Lurking.”

He lets out an annoyed sigh. “I live here. I’m not lurking. I can be wherever I want. What’s your excuse?”

“I just – I needed a drink.”

Dean rises from his chair, moving past you to pour his glass nearly full. “Uh-huh. I got that.” He turns to face you as you turn around and start to move back towards the hall and the safety of your room. “Yeah, just run away. That’s what you do.”

You stop and take a gulp of your drink, almost relishing the burn in your throat. “I thought we were dealing with this tomorrow.”

Dean lets out a derisive little snort. “Well, it’s technically tomorrow. So maybe you wanna tell me why you left?”

You turn back around, gripping your glass so tight you’re surprised it doesn’t crack under the pressure. You’re searching for words, but he doesn’t give you a chance.

“I just wanna know why.” You can’t bear to look at him, but you know his expression from the sound of his voice, the volume increasing with every word until he’s shouting. “Why you wouldn’t answer your phone, or even send us a text – oh, except the one where you told Sam ‘I’m okay.’ I wanna know what the hell I did that made you leave without a goddamn word!”

“You almost fucking died!” you scream back at him, your eyes burning with unshed tears, and you look at him, finally. His eyes go wide at your words, and when you go on, your voice is shaking, quiet in the wake of the shouting. “You came back to save me, and it almost got you killed.”

“What are you talking about?” he asks, confusion clear on his face.

“The last hunt we went on together, the vamps. One of them had me down, he was latched onto my neck, I thought I was done. You came and pulled him off, killed him, but there was another one behind you – with an axe. Don’t you remember?”

“Yeah, I remember – it was a rough hunt. But that’s just…” He begins moving towards you as you drain your glass and slam it down on the nearby library table, cutting him off in mid-sentence.

“That axe missed you by inches, Dean. I couldn’t yell to warn you, and that – that thing almost took your head off.” You angrily swipe tears from your face as you go on. “I still have nightmares. Only in my nightmares you don’t duck in time and you fall at my feet, half of your face gone, your blood everywhere, all over me, and I know that it’s my fault! That if you hadn’t had to come back and save me, you’d still be alive!”

“Jesus,” he swears under his breath, taking hold of your arm. “Why didn’t you tell me? Why didn’t you talk to me?”

“I don’t know. I was just so afraid, afraid that if I didn’t leave… I was afraid that the next time it might really happen. I couldn’t live with that.” You’re still quietly crying, and Dean puts his arms around you, pulling you close, your words muffled against his chest. “I thought it would be easier to live without you if I knew that I wasn’t around to get you killed.” You pull away from him, looking into his eyes, your chest aching. “I knew I couldn’t… I couldn’t watch you die. I couldn’t live with that.”

He’s staring back at you, your pain reflected in his eyes, the tip of his tongue darting out over his lips as he leans closer and closer, finally kissing you gently, lingering there until you visibly relax against him. When you part, he looks down at you, his thumb sweeping the remnants of your tears away. “You look beat. We should get some sleep.”

You look up at him with a weary smile, your eyes suddenly feeling very heavy, and you nod in agreement. He leads you down the hall, opening the door to his room and urging you inside with an arm around your waist. “Are you sure?” you ask softly, and he turns to you, cupping your face in his hands.

“Yeah. I’m sure.” He bends to kiss you, his lips clinging to yours, then folds back the covers and lets you crawl in before joining you. He reaches for you and pulls you close, your head on his shoulder, holding you as you fall asleep together.

You slam into the floor, flat on your back, the breath knocked from your lungs as the vampire lands on top of you and punches you. Your head rocks to the side, and fresh pain screams through you as needle-sharp teeth sink deep into your neck. You struggle, gasping for air, kicking and fighting, but he’s too strong, and your vision begins to blur.

Suddenly, the monster is ripped upwards, his weight suddenly gone from your body, and his blood sprays over you as his head goes flying off to the side, his body shoved away to land on the floor with a thud. Dean is moving towards you, speaking to you, but his voice seems muted. Your eyes grow wide as you see someone moving up behind him, and you try to cry out, but your voice is nothing but a squeak. Your vision is still hazy, but you see the figure behind Dean lift something – an axe?

Dean says your name, turning to face you, putting a hand on your shoulder to shake you gently. “Hey, hey – wake up, baby. You’re safe, you’re home.” Your eyes fly open as you suck in a deep breath, your hands clutching at Dean’s t-shirt. Then you pull back, your hands reaching to search his face, panic in your chest. “See, sweetheart? I’m okay. It was a dream.”

You close your eyes in relief, letting the panic subside slowly before you blow out a breath and dare to look at him again. He is watching you closely, concern in his eyes, and you lean in to crash your lips into his. He groans softly and hugs you tight against his chest, slanting his mouth over yours, his tongue sweeping over your lips, urging you to open up to him. You whimper, your hands moving down to slip under his shirt, your palms gliding over his smooth, warm skin.

You are suddenly ravenous for him, and you move your free hand down to frantically yank at your pants. You break free from your kiss, your voice desperate and breathless. “Dean – help…” He stares at you, heat in his eyes, for a second before rolling you to your back. Then he sits up, both hands reaching to pull your pants and panties down as you kick them free and push the covers away with your feet. “Please…”

He shoves his sweats down until he springs free and he settles between your thighs, his cock prodding at your softness, then filling you up in one smooth, quick thrust. Neither of you are going to last long, your need for each other is too fierce, and you strain to hold him close as he fucks into you hard and fast. He pants out a ‘fuck’ when you call out his name, your head spinning as you come, clawing at his shoulders and arching up underneath him. He floods you with his release as you pulse around him, clinging to him with all your strength as you fall apart together. When he finally finishes, he lets his weight rest on you, your arms still wrapped around him, tears wetting your lashes from behind your closed eyes.

“I missed you so much,” you manage to say, and Dean raises up to look at you, bending to kiss each eye before he captures your lips, your kiss touched with the taste of your tears.

“I missed you, too,” he whispers before kissing you again, slow and sweet, until you both need to move and he parts from you with a quiet groan, adjusting his pants and settling on his back. “C’mere.” He waits for you to turn and lift your head, putting his arms around you to hold you tight, your head on his shoulder. You lay there silently for a while, his hand capturing yours and holding it against his chest. You are basking in absolute peace, feeling safe and warm and right for the first time in months. He gives your hand a squeeze and speaks softly, his voice rumbling in his chest beneath your hand. It feels amazing. “So – what made you decide to come back?”

You smile a little sheepishly, even though he can’t see your face at the moment. “You’ll probably laugh at me.”

“I won’t. I promise.”

“Well – I walked home from my job at the bar the other night, and I took a different route than usual. I saw this little occult shop – you know, the kind with ‘Fortunes Told’ and ‘Palm Reading’ painted on the windows.” He chuckles softly, and you continue. “I decided, what the hell? Walked in, and the woman was getting ready to close. So I said ‘I’ll come back another time.’ She turned around and took one look at me, and said, ‘No, please. Sit.’ So I did. She held out her hand, and I gave her mine, and she ran her fingers over my palm. Then she looked me in the eye and said, ‘I can give you what you so desperately desire.’”

You shift a little so you can look up at his face as you continue your story. “I started to get up, told her I wasn’t interested in buying a potion or a spell, but she grabbed my hand to stop me. ‘No,’ she said, ‘I am not trying to sell you a potion or spell. If you do as I say, you can have what your heart is crying out for.’ She squeezed my hand, and said, ‘You must go home.’ I said, ‘Well, I’m on my way home right now,’ but she shook her head and said, ‘No. You must go home. To Kansas.’ I started to shake my head and pull away again, but she wouldn’t let go of my hand. ‘You must go home. Your heart knows this. Listen to what it is saying,’ she said. And she wouldn’t even take any money.”

“Seriously?”

You nod. “Yes. And I fought it for a couple of days, but I finally – I knew she was right. I knew I needed to come back. I knew I needed to make things right with you. Even if you couldn’t forgive me for running away, I knew I needed to try.”

He leans down to kiss you, lingering for a long moment before pulling back to look at you, his fingers brushing your hair back from your eyes. “I’m glad you listened to her. Just promise me something.”

You look into his eyes, biting at your lip and nodding. “Promise me you’ll never leave like that again. Promise me you’ll come and talk to me, or talk to Sam. I went fucking crazy when you left and I couldn’t find you. I thought I…”

“I’m so sorry, Dean. I promise. I promise that will never happen again.” You take a deep breath before going on. “You should know, I’m not going to hunt anymore.”

He nods, looking away from you for a moment, his jaw working as he gets his emotions under control before he faces you again.“Baby, I don’t care if you hunt. I never did. I don’t care what you do, I just want you to be happy.” His arms tighten around you as he continues. “And I want you to remember that you can talk to me. I just want you here with me, whatever that looks like, I don’t care. I need you.”

You have tears in your eyes yet again as you tilt your face to kiss him. “I need you, too. And I’m not going anywhere. I promise.”

Tags for my lovelies: 

@ironreviewangel    @wingedcatninja  @evansrogerskitten   @emoryhemsworth  @peaceinourtime82 

 @dean-winchester-is-a-warrior  @sarcasmqueen74   @maliburenee     @mrsjenniferwinchester   @yeehawbitchs  

 @emily-winchester  @hobby27    spnbaby-67   @zepskies  @ladysparkles78  

@alwaystiredandconfused   @just-another-busyfangirl    @muhahaha303    @deansimpalababy    @kr804573  

@suckitands33    @ej13928    @lmhf1

[wallflowergirl2006]

Joyful Pregnancy

[Part 2 Of Forced Heat]

Art By: ??? [I don't know the artist to this piece and also this is not what the characters look like..]

CW: Fluff, Mention of Breastmilk, Pregnancy..

The scientists didn’t know from that one forced heat cycle was the time you were at the height of your fertile period. So now they were stuck with a territory wolf and a very pregnant bunny. Ever since you first showed signs of pregnancy Matias grew very protective of you, more than the normal amount for him. He was constantly nuzzling and rubbing his scent on you. Being in the same room as you for checks up and physicals. He was still always respectful when it came to visiting you in your habitat. He didn’t want you to have any stress. It can be bad for both you and the cubs in your belly.

Speaking of your belly he’s always extra careful around that area. Pressing soft kisses and gentle rubs to soothe the babies growing inside of you. If you happen to get more stretch marks from the pregnancy expect him to to trace them or subconsciously rub them with the tips of his fingers. He calls you his brave warrior because of them. He always saw you as strong because you put up with someone as stubborn and tough as him. As you begin to show other symptoms such as morning sickness, fatigue, or breast pain he’s there helping you.

You feel like you're about to throw up? Got it he’s rushing you over to the toilet and holding your hair back as you threw up into the toilet. Your feet are starting to hurt? Gotcha ya.. He'll sit you down somewhere and take off those facilities socks and start massaging your aching feet. Your starting to feel hormonal mood swings? Don’t worry he knows better to take what you say as something serious. If it’s something really really serious he’ll address it with you but if nothing worth mentioning that he’ll leave it by. You feel a bit hot/cold? He feels your forehead depending which one you’re feeling. He’ll ask the scientist [The ones he trusts, not any other scientist..] for some medicine. If you're hot he’ll ask them to lower the heat in your room and some cold water and a rag.

He’ll help take that temperature away by placing the rag in the cold water and placing it on your head but if you're cold he’ll ask for more blankets and cuddle with you. He’s very patient when it comes to you if it was anyways else he would’ve blown up on them by now. You have this soothing effect on him and he likes it very much. He notices the way you whine when your breasts get heavy with milk that sometimes it ruins your clothes so you're stuck wearing hospital gowns. You hate every second of it. He notices this so he asked the scientist if there’s anything else that you could wear. One of the nurses politely suggested giving away her old maternity clothes. Matias was hesitant at first but he remembered the sad frown on your chubby cheeks. It made his heart clench at the thought.

So he agreed and it turns out that the nurse actually had a lot of maternity clothes and they were so cute. The prints and designs and everything about them screamed cutie pootie but some of them were completely comfortable too so that was great. Another thing is that sometimes you catch Matias staring at your chest. You wonder what that is about. Did your fat tits leak again? You checked but it’s not that but they were a little sore. You decided to brush it off and leave it at that but the way Matias stared at your breasts they were heavy and full of milk for his children made him want to rut into you again and suck on them. The babies aren’t here yet surely they won’t mind if their dad were to steal some of their milk for himself.

He’s already calling you his little bunny mama. You absolutely adore him calling you that and you called him big papa wolf. Both of these are said in the most sweet and most affectionate way. He loved the way your eyes light up and the way cottontail twitches when he calls you his bunny mama and you love his ears perk up and his tail starts wagging like a dog when you call him papa wolf. 

You two are just counting down the days when you are due to have the baby cubs. Both of you are buzzing with shared excitement and joy at the prospect of parenthood and best of all you’ll be doing it side by side.

Photo from Pinterest by L666W

[whocaresstillthelouvre]

Foxglove Downs Chapter 4: The Date

Pairing: Marcus Acacius x Lucius Verus x Female Reader Rating: Explicit. 18+ (Minors DNI) Summary: Marcus finds a way to make his indiscretion up to you. Marcus girlies, this one is for you. Warnings: Love triangle, horse talk, jealousy, pining, angst, flirting, a dusting of dbf but more like dad's best mentee, smut, publicish sex, getting finger banged in an alley, age gap (Marcus is in his 40’s, Lucius is in his 20’s). Reader is in her 30's, has hair, and has a nickname: Sunny. Words: 4,500

A/N: Thank you to my lovely beta @devineconjuring. Thank you for my being my personal Pac-Man and eating all of my dots. 🫶🏻

Foxglove Downs Masterlist Masterlist

Previous Chapter

—-

Nobody watching asks how the horses get to the competitions, but you know all too well how much work and preparation goes into getting just a singular 1,200-pound animal to the arena. The stables are always abuzz during the days and weeks leading up to a match, especially when it’s the Grand Championships.

You’ve been lucky to avoid both men for the past few days, though you feel like you can still feel the sting of your hand slapping Marcus’s face, your anger and frustration with him. The softness of Lucius’s lips against yours, your hesitancy and wonder about your situation. After all these years of lingering looks and hesitant touches with Marcus, of moments where it felt like his eyes were only on you, now he feels like he owns you?

Lucius let you in to see another side of him, one more grounded and caring, less brash and arrogant. In his celebrity-filled world, why does it seem like he only wants you?

Not now, you keep repeating to yourself as you walk through the tack room with your clipboard, making notes of what needs to be packed. 

Someone clears their throat deeply, catching your attention. You freeze at the sound and look up, meeting dark brown eyes, wide under brows drawn down in apprehension. Marcus stands only a few feet away from you. 

“Sunny.”

“Marcus.” 

He takes a step closer. “I… I wanted to apologize,” he says, his voice low and sincere. “For the way I acted by the lake.”

His handsome face is etched in remorse. The room is quiet, save for the soft, distant sounds of your horses. 

“I shouldn’t have said those things,” he continues, his eyes never leaving yours. “It was out of line, and I’m sorry.” 

“I appreciate the apology. But you can’t just say and assume those things and expect it to be okay. Listen, I don’t know what you and Lucius have going on between you, but I am not part of it.” 

He nods, his jaw clenched. “I know. I let my feelings get the better of me. Sunny, I–” he begins, before taking a deep breath. “I care about you. More than I probably should. I-I’ve known you for so long, and I’ve been able to… seeing you with Lucius, it just…” He trails off, shaking his head, his fingers fidgeting at his sides. 

“Marcus, I’m not with Lucius,” you say, heart hammering in your chest. 

A bit of hope flickers across his features. “You’re not?”

“No,” you shake your head. “But the way you spoke to me still hurt me, and the accusations you made, the way you made me feel…”

“I know, and I’m sorry,” he says quickly, stepping forward. “Can I please make it up to you?”

The hopeful way his voice sounds at the end makes your heart melt, like he can’t bear to think you won’t forgive him. You hesitate, staring into his vulnerable eyes. 

“Can I take you to dinner tonight? There’s a place a couple of towns away that makes me think of you every time I go. Please?”

“It’s a date,” you respond with a small smile, finding it hard to believe Marcus Acacius just asked you out on a date.

“I’ll pick you up around 8?” he says, smiling wide. You’ve only seen him smile like this when he’d won a competition. 

“Sounds good.” 

“Then it’s a date.” He nods, knocking against the door frame before striding away. You focus back on your checklist, feeling like a golden trophy. 

—-

You fret for longer than you’d ever care to admit over what dress you’ll wear. The velvet dress is too revealing. The long navy dress is too formal. The pink dress–well, that’s the dress that got you into the situation. Marcus has already seen this dress on you–under Lucius’s jacket as he dropped you off. You play it safe, choosing a simple cream dress with delicate blooms of flowers stitched across it, paired with sensible heels. 

The doorbell chimes promptly at 8:00 PM.

You straighten your dress and take a deep, centering breath before opening the door. 

Marcus Acacius stands on your doorstep wearing a dark suit that hugs his broad shoulders. He’s left the top couple of buttons undone, exposing a bit of his tanned skin. He holds a beautiful bouquet of pink foxgloves in his hand, holding them out to you with a sweet smile that falters as his eyes roam over your body. You want to pinch yourself to make sure you’re not dreaming when you follow the gulp of air he swallows down. 

“I, uh, hope you don’t mind the foxgloves again. Call me unoriginal, but I don’t know what flowers you like. Figure this honors the stables.”

“Actually, I love foxgloves, thanks,” you say, smiling and inhaling the sweet scent. “Come on in. Make yourself at home while I grab a vase.”

He hesitates before following you in. 

“I haven’t been in here since your parents moved,” he says, a bit of surprise in his voice as he takes in his surroundings. “It’s been a while.”

“I’ve tried to change some things up. It’s kind of weird still living in your childhood home, but the commute to work isn’t bad.” 

“I like it,” he says before picking up a framed photo of you with your parents. “I remember this day.”

“Of course you do,” you say nonchalantly as you fill a vase. “It was yours and Barley’s first championship.” 

“Well, yes, but I mean I remember you that day.” His voice lowers, and you almost drop the vase. 

You look up, your heart skipping a beat when you see the intensity of his eyes. 

“You had the biggest smile on your face when I won.” 

Your cheeks warm at his words, and you hide the look on your face by looking down and adjusting the flowers arranged in the vase. 

“I was just excited for you… and Barley, of course.”

He sets the frame down and hums in acknowledgment before his eyes roam around the room again. “It does feel different in here.”

—-

A simple black Audi with tinted windows. That’s what three-time world champion horse jumper Marcus Acacius drives every day. It makes sense, really–the car is understated, luxurious, and reliable, a lot like him.

The countryside is dark outside Marcus’s car as he drives you to dinner. Small talk fills the twenty-minute drive. You’re able to occasionally steal glances at him in the dark interior of the car, his features lit by the dashboard.

“It’s a beautiful night,” you say, breaking a moment of comfortable silence.

Marcus nods, his eyes fixed on the road.

“It is. I’m—” he clears his throat. “I’m glad you let me take you out.”

"I'm glad too.”

He glances over at you, his dark brown eyes twinkling in the night, and his small smile makes your heart flutter.

—- The Winding Path is unassuming and quaint. The small restaurant is tucked away inside an ivy-covered brick building, simple yet upscale.

The maître’d greets Marcus warmly, clearly recognizing him as a regular patron, before leading you to a secluded table near the back of the dining room. You slide into the plush velvet booth, and Marcus slides in next to you–closer than you expect, his thigh brushing against yours.

The candlelight from the votive on the table flickers across Marcus’s face. You can’t look away from his eyes as he holds up his tumbler of whiskey to cheers your martini.

“To you slapping me in my face,” he says with a smirk as he toasts you. “I deserved it.”

“You deserved it,” you say as you clink your glass against his with a wide grin.

"So, um, are you looking forward to Rome?" he asks while waiting for your entrees.

"I am. It's always beautiful there. Have you been practicing your Italian?"

He chuckles. "A little. I can at least order a coffee now without completely butchering the language."

“Un caffè nero per favore.” (One black coffee please.)

He hums an appreciative noise, his eyebrow quirking up. “That’s it. How’d you know I take my coffee black?”

“That’s how you used to ask for it whenever my mom would make you a cup.”

“Good memory.”

“I suppose so.”

Conversation flows easily, but moments of comfortable silence settle between you as you enjoy your meals. Each look exchanged between you lingers longer than propriety dictates. Marcus doesn’t shy away; his eyes follow the movement of your hands and the curve of your smile.

“So, I’ve been wondering. Why does this place remind you of me?” you ask as Marcus settles the check. “All I see is a nice restaurant.”

"It’s not just the restaurant. It’s how I feel when I’m here.” You tilt your head in confusion, intrigued by what he has to say. “How so?” “My first apartment when I moved here to train was across the street. The parking lot we parked in—that’s the same lot I used to park in almost twenty years ago after long training sessions at Foxglove. “When I’m here, I feel at peace. Like nobody sees the trophies or championships. They just see me, and I can exist without any pretense or expectation. I can just… breathe.”

“And that reminds you of me?”

“Yes. It reminds me of Foxglove Downs and you.”

In all the years you've known him, you've never seen this side of him, this vulnerability, this openness. It shocks you.

“Marcus–I… that means a lot.”

"Would you like to take a walk?" he asks, a hint of hopefulness in his voice. “I’d like to show you my favorite place here. There’s a park not far away."

You nod, your heart still racing at his confession and the new side of Marcus he’s showing you. He’s charming, sweeter, less gruff, and more vulnerable. You truly feel like he might be taking you on an actual date. 

"I'd love to."

Marcus offers you his arm as you step out into the cool evening air.

The park is a quick walk from the restaurant. Marcus leads you through the wrought-iron gate to a wooden bench in front of a sizable fountain.

You sit as a chill rolls through your body, and you shiver. Marcus notices, quickly removing his jacket and laying it over your shoulders.

“Better?” he asks. 

You nod, relishing the warm scent of him surrounding you.

"Did I ever tell you about my first competition?" Marcus's voice breaks through the gentle trickle of the water and brisk nighttime breeze.

“No,” you reply, genuinely curious. “But please, tell me.” 

“It was a disaster.” A chuckle escapes him, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "I was fifteen, perched atop a borrowed horse that was not as enthusiastic about jumping as I was."

You smile, making a little hmph at the thought. Marcus looks over and grins, encouraged by your reaction.

"The horse's name was Thunderbolt–ironic because he was the exact opposite of fast. I was convinced I was destined for the trophy. My palms were so sweaty I could barely hold the reins. My name is called. We trot into the arena and, as we approach the first jump, Thunderbolt eyes it warily, but I feel confident. We pick up speed, and just as he's about to jump, Thunderbolt decides he'd rather not. He stops dead in his tracks, so I go sailing over his head, right into the jump."

"Oh no! Were you hurt?"

Marcus shakes his head and chuckles again. "Only my pride. I landed in a heap of poles and sawdust. The crowd was dead silent for a moment, and then everyone burst into laughter."

"What did you do?"

"I stood up, dusted myself off, and took a bow. Then I led Thunderbolt out of the arena with the little dignity as I had left.”

Your laugh echoes across the nighttime air, and Marcus’s smile is wide as he watches you.

"Wow, you did need my dad."

"Indeed.”

It’s always been so clear, Marcus’s unyielding tenacity, his quiet strength—it isn’t just what makes Marcus Acacius a formidable competitor; it was what made him extraordinary, period. This feeling of admiration you have for him is rooted in something far beyond your shared love for horses and the sport.

"Thank you," you say softly after a while. "For sharing that with me."

"Only fair. I’ve known you for so long, yet I feel like I barely know you outside of Foxglove. And that could be my fault.” He lets out a long, deep sigh. “I’d like to know you.”

You feel the weight of his words settle between you.

"Marcus," you begin, your voice barely above a whisper, "I never realized—"

"Realized what?" he interrupts, turning towards you with a curiosity that mirrors your own.

"Never mind," you say, dismissing your half-formed thought with a wave of your hand. It's foolish, really, how one person's earnestness can suddenly make the night seem so intimate.

He reaches for your hand, his large one engulfing yours, instantly warming you. Your fingers tangle. A jolt of electricity surges through you, leaving you breathless, and you quickly withdraw your hand.

"Sorry," Marcus murmurs, but his eyes don't leave yours.

"Me too," you reply, though you're not sure what you're apologizing for—the touch or your reaction to it.

You glance up at him, and something in his gaze changes—a softening around the edges, a vulnerability that beckons you closer.

"Marcus..." you begin again. This time, you let the silence after his name hang between you, filled with all the things you want to say but can't quite voice.

He leans forward, closing the distance until you can see the flecks of gold in his dark brown eyes. "Sunny," he whispers.

And then his lips are on yours, hesitant at first, as if testing the reality of the moment. But the hesitation gives way to urgency, and you find yourself responding equally. Your hands grip the smooth fabric of his button-up shirt, pulling him closer. His kiss is everything you imagined—intense, consuming, and perfect.

Just as quickly as it begins, Marcus pulls away, his breaths coming out in short gasps. He looks around, widening his eyes when he realizes you’re both out in the open, exposed to whoever wants to walk by.

“Follow me?”

You nod and grab his hand, this time not pulling away.

—-

You follow him back through the streets, now with your hand in his, as he leads you to a narrow alley nestled between two buildings.

He gently backs you up against the rough brick wall, and his hands settle on your hips. Your breath catches as he leans in, his lips hovering right in front of yours.

You’re panting for air as he closes the distance, capturing your lips in a kiss.

Your hands slide up his chest to loop around his neck and pull him closer. His tongue brushes against your lower lip, and you happily oblige in letting him in.

A low groan rumbles in Marcus's chest as he presses his body flush against yours, the heat of him flowing through the thin fabric of your dress. His hands roam your body, caressing and kneading. Your head falls back against the brick wall as his mouth travels along your jaw, teeth grazing the sensitive spot just below your ear.

"I've wanted this for so long,” he breathes against your skin.

You gasp a response as Marcus's large hands clutch your ass. He pulls your hips firmly against his, his cock pressing insistently against you as he begins to grind slowly.

"Oh god, Marcus," you moan breathlessly, your nails digging into his shoulder blades as you roll your hips against him.

He hitches your leg up around his waist to allow him to grind against you harder, angling himself against you in a way that makes you bite your lip, resisting the urge to scream his name. He’s thick and throbbing against you.

“Fuck,” you whisper into the cool night air as his tongue laves across your neck.

He grunts against you when he rocks into you harder, faster. There’s a coil of tension low in your belly, winding itself tighter and tighter. The years of dreaming about him, of watching him from afar, of lingering looks and touches–you’ve been drawn to him for almost twenty years, through college, boyfriends that didn’t last, championship trophies, and now, Lucius.

Now, his strong body is pressed against yours, his hands and mouth all over you. It feels like two decades of longing are finally coming to fruition.

His hand snakes between your bodies, and his fingers slip beneath the hem of your dress to caress the smooth skin of your inner thigh. He looks up at you, his dark brown eyes almost black in the glow of the street lights and distant moon.

Slowly, he trails his fingers higher, skimming the lace edge of your panties.

He nods–an ask for permission.

You respond, nodding fervently, your mouth agape and eyes wide.

"Fuck, so wet for me already," he whispers approvingly as he feels the pool of your wetness gathered. He rubs you through the thin barrier, the pressure of his fingers against your swollen, sensitive pussy making you whimper with need.

"Shh, baby," he whispers. "We don't want anyone to hear what a needy little thing you are, do we?"

You softly groan. Fuck, he’s got a dirty mouth.

He tugs your panties to the side, exposing your wet heat to the cool night air. You gasp as his fingers finally touch you, stroking you with a maddeningly light touch. He traces your slit from bottom to top, circling your aching clit.

"Please, Marcus," you breathe.

He silences you with a deep, claiming kiss, swallowing your moans as he finally sinks one long finger into your tight hole. Your walls clench, drawing him in deeper. He pumps into you slowly, letting you feel every inch as he slowly stretches you open.

Soon, a second finger joins the first, your hips trying to meet his hand as his fingers fill and stretch you. His thumb finds your clit, rubbing firm circles around the sensitive nub in time with the thrusts of his fingers.

You grip his shirt in your fists, holding on for dear life. Your hips rock shamelessly against his hand, meeting each thrust, desperate for more. The wet sounds of his fingers plunging in and out of your soaked pussy seem obscenely loud in the quiet night air.

"Fuck my fingers, Sunny. You’re doing so good," he growls, nipping at your earlobe. "You’re taking me so well.”

His filthy words rumbling against you are nearly enough to push you over the edge. A high, keening moan escapes your lips before you can stop it, earning you a particularly hard thrust.

"Quiet, remember? Or I'll have to stop." His fingers still inside you and you clench around him frantically, silently begging him to continue. Your eyes meet his, your teeth biting down on your lip to stifle the sounds that want to escape.

You give him a singular nod.

“Good girl,” he says as he begins pumping his fingers in and out of you at a maddening pace.

Your head falls against the brick wall. His words, his touch, the feeling of his fingers buried deep inside you, the years of longing–it’s all too much. Your pussy begins to radiate heat throughout your body. Marcus backs you up farther against the wall as your knees begin to quake, and you flood his hand with your slick.

He works you through your orgasm, whispering filthy praises in your ear as you ride out the aftershocks.

“That’s it. You’re so beautiful when you cum for me. You’re squeezing my fingers so tight. I can’t wait to feel how sweet your pussy feels around m—”

BANG! The sound of a door slamming open nearby makes you both freeze.

Loud laughter and voices fill the night air as a group of bar patrons stumbles out into the street.

"Fuck," Marcus curses under his breath. He quickly withdraws his fingers from your pulsing core, bringing them to his mouth to lick them clean, his eyes never leaving yours.

The taste of you on his fingers makes Marcus groan softly.

Your chest heaves as you try to catch your breath, your body still thrumming from the intense orgasm.

The drunken laughter grows louder as the group approaches. You hastily smooth down your dress and fix your panties while Marcus adjusts himself, trying to hide the obvious bulge straining against his slacks.

Just as the bar patrons round the corner, you and Marcus step out of the shadowed alley, trying your best to look casual and not like you were just getting finger-fucked against a brick wall moments ago.

"Evening," Marcus nods politely as you pass by the group. A few mumble greetings back, but most are too drunk to pay you any mind.

Once you're a safe distance away, you glance at each other and burst out laughing, giddy from the close call. Marcus takes your hand, interlacing your fingers.

"Come on, I'll drive you home," he says.

—-

Marcus keeps one hand on the wheel while the other rests high on your thigh, his thumb rubbing maddening circles across your soft flesh. You’re aching to feel his hands on you again, to finish what you started.

All too soon, he pulls onto the grounds of Foxglove Downs and up the hill to your home.

You don’t want the night to end. The anticipation that’s been building since he asked you out, how sweet he was during dinner, the other side he showed you of himself after knowing him for twenty years, the feel of his fingers on you in the darkened alley. You hope he can feel the heat you feel for him radiating off of you as it crackles in the air.

Marcus puts the car in park, and the engine quiets, leaving only the sound of your breathing.

He turns to face you, his dark eyes smoldering. “I had a wonderful time tonight.” “Me too,” you whisper with a slight tremble. “I… I don’t want it to end.”

His gaze drops to your lips, and he leans closer, his hand sliding higher up your thigh. "Neither do I.”

Emboldened by the privacy of the car and the cover of night, you place your hand over his, guiding it higher until his fingers brush the edge of your panties. "So why don't you come inside."

He inhales sharply, his eyes fluttering closed for a second as if struggling to maintain control. “I want to.”

“Then do it,” you breathe.

He takes your hand as you exit the car. You lead him up the familiar path to your door—the same one you used to watch him walk up all those years ago as you sat in your room.

As you find your keys, Marcus’s hands find your waist, his fingertips skimming the thin fabric of your dress. His breath is hot against your neck, his lips just grazing your sensitive skin. Finally, the key slides into the lock, and the door swings open.

You step inside, flicking on the entryway light. The soft glow illuminates Marcus's handsome features as he follows you in, his dark eyes sweeping over the familiar surroundings.

He pauses, his gaze landing on a framed photo on the wall - a much younger version of you grinning with your father.

The realization seems to wash over him as you turn, already skimming the sleeves of your dress down your arms.

“We’ve really known each other for so long, haven’t we?” Marcus asks, his eyes still on the photo.

You pause, your dress half-off, and follow his gaze to the photo. A younger you smiles back, the same you who dreamed about having Marcus all alone in this house with you.

"We have," you agree softly, letting your dress fall to the floor, leaving you in just your lacy bra and panties. "Sometimes it feels like a lifetime."

Marcus turns to you, his eyes widening as he takes in your nearly naked form. You can see his throat bob as he swallows hard.

"Sunny," he breathes.

"I've wanted this–wanted you–for so long," you confess.

Marcus steps forward, his hand coming up to gently cup your face, his thumb tracing your cheekbone. Your eyes flutter shut as you lean into his palm.

"Sunny," he whispers again.

Slowly, he leans in, his nose brushing against yours as he tilts your face up to his.

His eyes dart back to the photo of you and your father, and with a low, frustrated groan, Marcus backs away.

“I’m sorry, I can’t. Not… not with everything.”

Your head turns, curiosity and frustration passing across your face.

You blink in confusion, your heart sinking as Marcus takes another step back. "What do you mean?" you ask.

Marcus runs a hand through his hair, his expression torn. "Sunny, I–I like you. But your father, he's been like a mentor to me. And now, with the Rome Championship coming up..." He trails off, his eyes flickering between you and the photo on the wall.

"Marcus," you say softly, taking a step towards him. "My father doesn't have to factor into this. We're both adults."

He shakes his head, his jaw clenching. "It's not just that. There's Lucius, the competition, Foxglove. I can't afford any distractions right now."

You feel a flash of hurt at his words. "Is that what I am? A distraction?"

"No, of course not," Marcus says quickly, reaching out to touch your arm but stopping himself. "You're so much more than that. But the timing... it's all wrong."

You wrap your arms around yourself, suddenly feeling very exposed in just your underwear. "So what was this then? Just a moment of weakness?"

Marcus's eyes soften as he looks at you. "It was real—it is real. But I can’t—I can’t lose focus. And you deserve someone who can give you their full attention."

"I'm not asking for your full attention, Marcus. I'm just asking for a chance."

Marcus sighs heavily, his shoulders slumping. "I know. And believe me, I want to give us that chance. But there's so much at stake right now."

"So that's it then?" Your voice trembles slightly. "We just pretend this never happened?"

Marcus looks at you, his eyes filled with regret. "I think... I think it's for the best. At least for now."

You nod slowly, fighting back the tears that threaten to fall. "I understand. You should go."

He pauses, looking like he wants to say more. Instead, he simply nods and turns towards the door, reaching for the doorknob.

"Marcus?"

His shoulders deflate at how fragile your voice sounds. He looks back at you over his shoulder.

"Was any of it real? Tonight, I mean."

"Every second of it,” he answers, leaving you standing alone in your entryway in only your underwear.

—-

A/N: Thank you for reading! Please excuse to lack of Lucius in this chapter... Marcus girlies... you're welcome? I think?

—-

Tagging those who asked and some friends! Let me know if you'd like to be added or removed.

@ohheypedrito, @schnarfer, @magpiepills, @sawymredfox, @devineconjuring

@mothandpidgeon, @hellfire-state-of-mind, @darkheartgatita, @umnitsa, @christinamadsen

@pedrit0-pascalit0, @ace-turned-confused, @itwasntimethatdidit40, @lotusbxtch, @almostfoxglove

@lady--lynn, @chrissy-forfucksakes-wakeup, @copperhalfcent, @ferns-fics, @thesoftdumbass

[quietwingsinthesky]

OH RIGHT. rose. i was thinking about this because jack might be the one person who can actually put into words what was going on between the doctor & rose because he was there, he was in the middle of it. not that the information comes out easily, but he’s less avoidant of saying the words ‘he loved her’ than the doctor is. which. i just think it would be kind of sweet and sad for even to also for the first time actually connect the word to the feeling. that’s love. that’s what that is.

[wavesoutbeingtossed]

.

[spadesuite]

can someone PLEASE tenderly hold me and pet me and tell me im a good dog for a little while. i’ll sit on the floor just please

[kurooh]

when choso first learns about what facesitting really is, he brings it up after a make out session that’s left you both hot and heavy. he’s tugging on your hand, practically begging you to take a seat.

“i-i’m not sure,” you stutter, unsure. “what if you suffocate or something? i don’t wanna hurt you..”

the look he gives you is one of pure need and longing. “i don’t care, just sit baby. please.”

for good measure, choso gives you a little pout, breaking into giggles and a smile once you slip your panties and shorts off. your thighs tremble as you hover above his face, eyes squeezing shut at the heat of his breath against your sticky cunt.

“mmm, that’s no good,” he remarks, large hands rising to your hips and settling lightly. “i told you, sit down.” choso’s strong, yanking you down hard onto his face; you feel and hear his muffled moan when your pussy’s all over his whole face.

“choso!”

“so, so fucking good,” choso gasps against you, holding your squirming body in place as his tongue laps and laps at your sticky cunt.

beneath you, his body’s sweltering with heat, racing through every nerve like electricity while tight pressure builds in his cock. with a glance over your shoulder, you notice his hips rutting into the air as he searches for friction.

“cho,” you sob, so overwhelmed you actually feel tears building in your eyes, “i-i wanna suck you off, ‘s not fair—”

he easily lifts you and peers up at you from between your thighs, face flushed and shining with your slick. with a shaky finger, you nudge some of his hair away from his forehead.

“don’t want you to,” it’s painful to say, because he really does, but that’s simply a distraction for the both of you. “baby,” he murmurs gently, “i want you to focus on cumming for me, ‘s all, okay?”

you nod quietly, and the gesture is met with a mild slap to your ass. “okay, cho,” the moment the words leave your bitten lips, he’s pulling you back down and greedily drinking all of you in, taking whatever he can get.

choso’s ministrations encourage you to roll your hips against his face; a light bump of his nose to your clit has you crying out and grinding all over him. that’s right, he thinks, stars in his closed eyes. he wishes he could tell you to use him to get off, but he’d have to lift you up and he doesn’t want to even breathe.

unconsciously, he matches your pace, his hips rising into the air in synchrony with your own. one of your hands slips into his silky hair and tugs; he’s your anchor, keeping you somewhat steady although he’s the reason you can’t stop shaking.

“choso,” you wail loudly, angling your hips to let him take your clit between his lips and suck, “oh, i’m so close, ‘m gonna cum soon—”

from between your thighs, choso sees everything: the parting of your lips, the way your face crumbles in absolute pleasure, the brief moment of stillness as you fully fall over the edge.

it’s too much and not enough, but he cums too.

“c-cumming, choso,” is all you can muster, riding out your orgasm on his face and tongue while his hips buck wildly into the air.

the muffled moan you feel deep in your cunt makes you gasp, pulling away at the feeling of overstimulation, but he’s holding you tight. a look over your shoulder at the right moment, and you watch as his clothed cock explodes, gushing cum and soaking his boxers.

after all your squirming and pulling away, choso finally lets you go with crescent moon indents in your plush skin and a loud huff.

“i wasn’t done,” he heaves, skin smeared with your cum. it’s glossy and messy, but he won’t think about washing it off until you’ve cum at least three more times.

“but you came and everything, i—”

choso silences you by sealing his lips against yours, and you can briefly taste yourself— sweet, just like he’s always said.

“a few more times, please?”

[beloveds-embrace]

(Arranged marriage to duke john price except it means you married four instead of one 👁️👁️)

Your marriage to Duke Price is one out of necessity: you need a husband before high society begins rumoring you to be a barren woman and too old to be married off, and Duke Price needs a wife who is able to take on Duchess duties of his duchies.

You do not expect love, though you suppose it’d be a nice bonus. You are merely glad that Duke Price is a reasonable handsome man, and he informs you on your wedding night that he will not force himself on you, and there is no need to immediately begin attemtping for an heir.

You take admirably to your new duties, have been raised practically for this purpose though the head butler Kyle is wonderful in helping you as well- actually all the servants have been wonderful towards you. You have regular dinners with John, though they are a bit stilted but at least Chef Johnny’s food is good enough you can easily forget the tense atmosphere. You can tell your husband is hiding something- you are sometimes barred from going to his office to him, certain rooms are not allowed for you, and you are not allowed anywhere near the letters addressed to him- but as long as it isn’t hurting you, why should you bother him? So you never ask, and he seems happy enough that you don’t.

Until you accidentally stumble upon him and Duke Riley exchanging tongues. Very heatedly, hands grasping and tugging on each other’s clothes and Duke Riley sat on your husband’s desk.

It’s hot.

What’s not so hot is the way they both look at you when they realize you are there. You stutter, face a red so fierce it’d put a furnace to shame, and bolt out of the room despite hearing John call your name.

And you also skip out on the dinners for now, pretending you are sick with the help of your maids and their makeup skills.

But suddenly, it’s like your eyes have been opened. It’s not just Duke Riley who seems to hold a part of your husband’s heart; the one time you gather enough courage to maybe go speak with John and address the situation, you see Kyle stumbling out all disheveled and flushed, though he has a very satisfied air around him. He freezes when he sees you, and your jaw drops.

“My lady-“

“I- I’ll just- I’m taking a walk! Alone!”

You go to the kitchens instead, hoping that Johnny would have something delicious you can eat. Maybe something cold enough to wash away the blush on your cheeks.

Johnny is weirdly silent, however, even as he whips up chocolate mousse for you. His silence is not normal, it feels… almost guilty…

You sighs, take in a deep breath, and gather your dress. “Johnny… are you too…-?”

“Aye, m’lady. But-“

You can’t take it anymore. You leave the kitchens, and go straight back to your bedroom to bury your face in your bed. It’s not as if you are upset! It’s just- a rather befuddling situation?

Two nights later, it’s John himself who comes to you. You had assumed it was one of your maids returning with a new jar of oil for your nightly hair routine, but it’s your husband. You are glad it’s winter, and you aren’t simply in a thin nightgown.

“Wife.” He says, voice steady yet strained.

“John.”

You can’t call him husband. You’ve spent the last two days thinking and you were… rather sad. You were in the way of whatever they had (you saw Kyle and Johnny kissing, Johnny specifically sending food addressed to Duke Riley), weren’t you?

John sighs, sitting down on the settee while you remain on your vanity. After a moment of awkward silence, he opens his eyes and looks at you. “…what do you want to remain silent about this?”

You blink, raising an eyebrow. “…huh?”

John’s fists clench. “How much do you want in return for your silence?”

Frowning, you set your brush down and fully turn to him even if you feel exposed despite your thicker nightgown. “Is this about your… partners?” You say the word delicately, then shake your head. “I want nothing, John. If you are worried about me starting anything, I won’t. I just… hope this doesn’t mean you will divorce me?”

Being a divorced woman might as well be a death sentence on its own.

He looks at you, shocked into silence, and you quickly explain; his relationships have nothing to do with you and you aren’t a petty woman, who are you to come between what he and they have? You only hope this won’t take away the protection this marriage gave you.

That night, thus, you and John reach an agreement you are sure both of you are satisfied with.

Except, months later, John is no longer satisfied.

With the ice broken between the two of you. The dinners have become so much more… relaxing and comfortable, far less than they had been. No secrecy was needed when you were around anymore, and you only giggle and look away, feigning innocence when they share tender kisses between one another… and the less polite kisses.

John can’t remain satisfied with this arrangement. You are such a sweet thing, now that he’s become to know you far better. He can see the way his men are looking at you now, something between fondness and hunger and want; Kyle helps you far more often now, despite your insistence that you can do it yourself. Even when you do it yourself, he stays by you and ensures you are comfortable.

And he joins your evening walks, arms looped as the two of you speak, laughing and giggling.

It’s similar to your late night chats with Johnny, where he plies your full of sweets and desserts until even your dreams are full of sweeter kisses you are sure will never be for you. Johnny, who cooks your favorites on hard days and who you heard from Kyle is even more serious about only having the best of the best in vegetables and meats and seasonings.

And Duke Riley… for all his stoicism, he is gentle with you. Even when he’d stared at you with doubt and mistrust, no doubt believing you to be lying to John and simply waiting for the shoe to drop and for you to ruin them. Yet it never happens, and now, during the galas you attend all dolled up on John’s arm and ignoring all murmurs about still having no children, you even dance with him and giggle at his terribly dry jokes, even share a few of your own with him.

Steadily, slowly, obliviously, John has watched each of his men fall for you. This, obviously, made you theirs. It made you his, more and more than you already were.

It’s why your current request is making him clench his glass in his hand, with Kyle looking on in displeasure as well, giving him subtle glances.

“-So that’s why I was asking, John,” you remain sweetly oblivious, adorned in a pretty dress Simon had gotten for you recently. “He will not spread any rumors, I’ll personally make sure of that-”

Your cheeks darken then, and you glance away. “I- I am… merely a bit- unsatisfied, if you understand my point. And the stable man is loyal to you, he wouldn’t say anything.”

It’s clear he needs to keep a better watch over you. Where and when did you even interact with his stable boy, Graves? Though he focused on your words.

Unsatisfied.

Well, he can’t have that, can he? You’ve done your wifely duties so admirably, it’s about time he took care of you as well… and maybe dealt with the baseless barren rumors as well. A baby would keep you nice and content and focused on them alone, wouldn’t it?

Oh yes. Yes, it would.

dukedom au masterlist

Part two

[poguelandiarafe]

protective | rafe cameron

pairing - rafe cameron x gf!reader

warnings - none (maybe topper and kelce in general...)

summary - you hurt yourself. topper and kelce think it's funny until rafe immediately goes to check on you and snaps at them, shutting them up.

masterlist

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laughter cuts through the room as you stumble over a pair of shoes topper had left in the doorway, immediately falling forward and colliding with the ground.

“shit, you good y/n?” topper teases, nudging kelce between chuckles.

kelce smirks, trying badly to conceal his amusement, “that looked like it hurt.”

a blush rises to your cheeks as rafe rushes over to you, helping you up and noticing the way you won’t put any weight on one foot.

“shut up. she’s hurt herself you assholes.” rafe snaps, keeping his hands on your hips to keep you steady.

topper and kelce’s laughter comes to a halt as they watch how soft and caring he turns within seconds. his expression shifts from annoyance to worry when his eyes meet yours again.

“rafe, baby, no i’m fine. just let me get a drink and i’ll be back upstairs, promise.” you insist, wincing slightly when you stand up properly.

he shakes his head, not convinced, “don’t act like you’re not in pain sweetheart, just wanna check you’re okay.”

“but it’s just my ankle-”

“i don’t care,” rafe interrupts, “topper get some ice or peas or something. then get your shit and leave. you too kelce.”

topper’s jaw drops slightly, really not thinking it was such a big deal. but, when it came to you, anyone who upset you or disrespected you soon became rafe’s enemies, so topper knew better than to anger his friend anymore.

a few minutes later, you’re sat on the couch while rafe kneels in front of you holding a bag of frozen peas to your ankle, soothing the pain.

“leave.” rafe reminds them, nodding his head towards the door.

“we’re going.” kelce says, holding his hands up in surrender.

you give them a smile, a way of saying ‘no hard feelings’. rafe, however, doesn’t even acknowledge them until the front door closes.

“fucking assholes.” he mumbles to himself.

“hey, i’m fine. stop being so hostile.” you sass, before you lean forward to cup his cheek, “thank you for looking after me.”

his shoulders drop and his head gently nuzzles into your hand, a kiss being placed to your thumb as it runs over his lips.

“sorry,” he whispers, “just love you too much. can’t deal with you being hurt.”

“i love you, but really, i’m okay. it's just an ankle."

after confirming you ‘really are okay’, at least another ten times, rafe finally settles into the couch cushions next to you, letting you pick something to watch together.

the sun highlights the blue of his eyes when he stares down at you, loving smile adorning his face. you’re oblivious to his staring until his lips brush your hairline.

“what?” you ask, looking up to meet his gaze through your lashes.

“you’re so beautiful.”

a giggle escapes you and somehow, his smile gets even bigger.

“you’re not so bad yourself cameron.”