#they had so many moments that my heart couldn't take it

[4milly]

warm my bed — jey u. (1/3)

warnings; stalking, oc is delusional but so is jey, continuous break ups, smut, creampie, sex while sleeping, forced impregnation, oc is toxic, dark themes on OC's part, oral (m) receiving, cheating, p in v,

parings; zariah x jey uso

in my head, even if you tell me its over...i'll pretend you told me im your all.

jey let out a harsh breath. all he wanted to do was go inside and have a quiet night in—a little r&r. all of that went down the fucking drain soon as he laid eyes on someone his heart once held love for.

zariah.

lord forgive him, but was she bat shit crazy. in the last year, zariah turned jey's life into a living hell. the jealously was too much for him; cursing him out for interacting with female fans, stealing his phone, hacking into his socials, blocking people, getting into it with instagram ho's in his comments, she even got into an encounter with sexy red leading to her being escorted out the arena.

no matter how many times jey told her, it was only her—and it was—she didn't believe him. but breaking into his house? that was the last straw. he knew he looked crazy in the eyes, when you picked up a pair of panties from in-between the couch cushions and called him everything but a child of God.

and whole time they were hers.

he knew it was best to just call it quits than continue the cycle. so 2 nights ago, he packed up your things and as calm as he could, sent you on your way. in a perfect world? you went peacefully. but nah. in this world? you smashed his car windows and keyd your name into the side door.

you loved jey. truthfully! could you get a little crazy sometimes? sure. but in zariah's mind, her actions were justified. after all, jey was hers—her soulmate, her destiny. she'd known it from the moment they locked eyes across that crowded club last year. the electricity that crackled between them, the way the world seemed to fade away until it was just the two of them—that was fate. and fate couldn't be denied.

jey's head fell in his hands at the sight of zariah standing in his kitchen cooking...nothing but her apron covering her, "finally! i've been waiting, c'mere baby."

didn't he take her set of keys?

part of jey wanted to scoop her up, take her inside, and forget this whole bullshit. the way her ass curved perfectly, that small butterfly tattoo on her lower back, and the smell of her juices...he wanted to rip that apron right off her. but the rational part of his brain—the part that remembered the broken windows and the scratched-up car—kept him rooted to the spot.

"z, y'know you ain't supposed to be her. y'know that shit."

but zariah wasn't havin' it. she stepped closer, perfume wrapping around him like a familiar blanket, "how was work, baby?"

was her ears clogged or sum? she know her ass heard him. "z, what are doing here?"

confusion and betrayal flashed across zariah's eyes, "baby, i'm home. where else would i be? i cooked your favorite, daddy...and I can't wait to feed everything to you."

fuck, he loved that shit.

jey felt his resolve waverin'. the way she looked at him, all big eyes and pouty lips, had his mind spinnin'. for a hot second, he almost believed her—almost forgot the chaos of the past year, the constant drama, the jealousy that ate away at their relationship like acid.

zariah slid her arms around his waist pulling him to her. he felt her hardened nipples poking at him through the cottoned fabric, "z, when i packed yo shit, that met we done. im tired of this shit witcho ass."

zariah ain't give up that easy though. she pressed her body against his, soft curves meltin' into his hard muscles, "we both know you're lying. why don't i take this apron off? hm? i'm always so ready for you daddy. i'll let you cum anywhere you want."

jey's breath caught in his throat as she nibbled on his earlobe, sending shivers down his spine. his body was betraying him, responding to her touch like it always did.

"nah, z. we can't keep doin' this," he protested weakly, but his hands found their way to her hips anyway, "we do this every other week."

before he could stop her, she was on her knees, lookin' up at him with those big doe eyes. her freshly painted manicured fingers made quick work of his belt and zipper.

"z, hold up—" jey started, but the words died in his throat as she freed him from his boxers.

zariah licked her lips, eyes locked on his as she stroked him. "mm, i missed this dick, baby."

jey's head fell back as she took him in her mouth, her tongue swirling around him like she was tryna map every inch. the warm wetness of her mouth enveloped him.

z's lips wrapped around him tight, her tongue working magic as she took him deeper. jey couldn't help the low groan that escaped him, his fingers tangling in her hair.

"fuck, baby," he breathed, hips bucking involuntarily

z hummed around him, the vibrations sending sparks through his body. she pulled off with a pop, lookin' up at him with fire in her eyes. "that's right, daddy. this is my dick. it's all mine." her hand kept stroking him as she spoke, her grip firm and sure making sure to pull on the fat mushroomed tip.

before jey could respond, she took him deep again, hollowing her cheeks as she sucked hard. her free hand cupped his balls, rolling them gently as she bobbed her head.

jey's hips started moving on their own, thrusting into the wet heat of her mouth. jey knew he shoulda stopped this, but his body was on autopilot now. she swallowed him down again, taking him to the back of her throat. jey's knees nearly buckled as she worked him over, her head bobbin' up and down while her hand twisted at the base.

her tongue swirled around his tip before she took him back in, moaning around his length. the vibrations had jey seeing stars, "goddamn, girl." he panted feeling his legs shake and his stomach tighten

when his toes began to curl in his shoes, jey powered to find one active brain cell. he began to shake his head, "zariah stop! ah, shit i'm finna—"

she pulled off again, jerking him with her hand as she spoke, "shh. you see how good i make you feel? nobody can make you feel like this. you're all mine."

z's mouth was back on him, suckin' him like her life depended on it. her tongue swirled around the tip before she took him deep again, throat relaxing to take all of him. her free hand snaked around to grab his ass, pulling him deeper.

jey threw his head back on a moan, when she tickled that spot underneath his balls, causing him to erupt into her mouth. his grip on her hair tightened as he kept shooting spurts out. zariah gave him small sucks; ensuring he emptied ever piece of doubt of their relationship into her throat.

the sight of her heavily glossed covered lips suctioned around his dick gave him nothing but guilt. he should've kicked her ass out for this shit. how does someone destroy his car, breaks into his house, and sucks the soul from his dick in less than 72 hours?

zariah smirked up at jey, a string of cum connecting her lips to his softening dick. "that was just the appetizer, baby," she purred, rising to her feet

before jey's post-nut clarity could kick in, zariah was pushing him backwards. he stumbled, legs weak, 'til the back of his knees hit the couch and he fell onto it with her straddling him with a wild look in her eyes.

"i ain't done with you yet, daddy," she giggled, grinding against him. even though he just came, jey felt himself getting hard again.

"z, hold up—" jey started, but she silenced him with a deep kiss, her tongue swirling in his mouth. she tasted like strawberries and his own cum, a combination that had his head spinning

"shh, baby," zariah whispered against his lips. "just let me take care of you."

she reached between them, guiding him to her entrance. jey groaned as she sank down on him, her wet heat comforting him inch by inch. his hands gripped her hips on instinct, fingers digging into her soft flesh.

"fuck, z," he breathed as she started to move, rolling her hips in a slow, torturous rhythm

jey's head was racing and still hazy, caught between the floaty feeling of his orgasm and the nagging voice in the back of his head telling him this was a bad idea. but damn if zariah didn't feel this good, he could've pushed her off.

"you see how good we are together?" zariah whispered, her lips brushing against his ear, "how we're made for each other?"

he could barely speak with her pussy clentching around him like that. zariah picked up the pace, riding jey hard and fast. her hips moved in tight circles, grinding down on him with each stroke. jey's eyes rolled back, overwhelmed by the sensation. his hands roamed her body, gripping her ass and kneading her breast as she bounced on his lap. muscle memory taking over as he cupped her breasts, thumbs brushing over her hardened nipples. zariah threw her head back with a moan, arching into his touch.

"that's right, daddy," she breathed, "touch me. i'm all yours."

she picked up the pace, riding him faster, harder. the sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room, punctuated by their heavy breathing and occasional moans. jey felt like he was floating. her walls hugged his dick just right. he moved his hips to meet your owns.

he let out a grunt as he felt that familiar clench in his abdomen again, "shit! you take it so good, z. imma nut again. fuck! slow down, z."

zariah threw her head back, crying out in pleasure as her own release neared. you manage to slip your hand between your bodies to rub at your clit, "fuck, baby! yes, just like that!"

the couch creaked beneath them, barely able to withstand their frenzied movements. his hips kept thrusting up to meet her, chasing that sweet release.

she bounced' on his dick like her life depended on it. the sound of skin slapping' filled the room, mixed with their heavy breathing and low moans.

"tell me you're mine," zariah demanded, her voice breathy but firm. "say it, jey. tell me you belong to me. this pussy belongs to you, and you belong to me."

she was chasing her own release, but she was determined to make him cum first. her walls clenched around him, milking' his dick like she was tryna squeeze every last drop outta him. and she was.

he loved how you squeezed his length as loud mewls escaped your throat. your stomach dropped and your hips shuddered as he went deeper.

"i'm yours, mama. i'm all yours, baby. shit! z, i love yo crazy ass." he gasped out

jey's hips bucked up involuntarily, meeting her thrust for thrust. His hands gripped her ass tight, guiding her movements as he felt his second orgasm approaching fast.

a triumphant smile spread across zariah's face as she clamped down onto him with a whimper, flooding him with her orgasm. she slipped her tongue into his mouth and let out a groan as he released every drop of his cum into her without thinking twice.

they stayed like that for a moment. as the fog of pleasure began to clear, reality came crashing down on jey like a bucket of ice water. he blinked, suddenly all too aware of the situation he'd let himself get into. zariah was still on top of him, her body slick with sweat, kissing down his neck, a satisfied smile on her face, and their cum seeping onto his couch.

"fuck," Jey muttered, gently pushing her off him. "z, this…this can't happen again. i'm forreal."

what the fuck had he just done?

he'd let her in again, let her work her magic on him like always. and now here they were, right back where they started. jey groaned, rubbing a hand over his face.

"baby, what's wrong?" zariah murmured, nuzzling into his neck

jey stood up, fumbling to pull his pants back on. his head was spinning, guilt and regret mixing with the lingering pleasure. "nah, z. this? was a mistake. you gotta go, ma."

zariah's expression darkened. "what do you mean, 'a mistake'? you just told me you loved me. you said you were mine."

"I wasn't thinkin' straight. i ain't a fuckin' prize, z." jey ran a hand over his face. "look, i meant what i said before. we're done. forreal this time. ight? getcho stuff, i'll take you anywhere you wanna go."

zariah's face dropped, her sweet demeanor evaporating in an instant, "we belong together, jey! y'know we do. y'think, i'm gonna let all those little insta ho's have you? so easy? no! you're mine. what? you wanna move one of those bitches in?"

"oh my fucking god, mane! y'see? this that shit i'm calm bout, zariah! this jealousy shit! i ain't fuckin' no other bitches, yet yo ass can't see that shit! i'm tired of yo ass, bruh."

jey turned around to gather her stuff. he met what he said; zariah had to get her shit and go. and she had to leave naked? that's fine, too. when he heard a sniffle behind his back, he exasperated. here come this fake ass cryin'.

"i hate you so bad, jey," she sobbed, "i love you so much it hurts. all i want to know is if you still love me. if you're still inlove with me, josh...but, at least get me towel,"

jey sighed, shoulders slumping as he turned back to face zariah. his words caught in his throat as his eyes landed on her splayed out on the couch, legs spread wide.

their mixed cum was seeping out of her swollen pussy, glistening in the low light. it dripped down onto the expensive leather, creating a messy puddle. she ran a hand down her body, fingertips trailing over her breast, down her stomach, until they reached her slick folds.

"look what you did to me, daddy," she whined out, still sniffling her tears away. she dipped two fingers inside herself, coating them in their combined fluids before bringing them to her lips. her tongue darted out, licking them clean as she maintained eye contact with jey.

zariah knew exactly what buttons to push, how to play him like a finely-tuned instrument—

"i promise, i'll stop being bad." she pouted, sucking her fingers coated with her slick into her mouth

how many times has he heard that shit before?

—she always had.

🏷️: @caramelcleopatraa @harmshake @msbigredmachine @luvrsluxe @uceyliyahh @angiedawn02 @amandairene88 @cyberdejos2 @queeny23 @empressdede @trentybenty @heauxvibez @whatdoeseverybodywant @shes2real @romansthrone @acknowledge-reigns @southerngirl41 @prettyfilmz @jaza23 @usoinked @punksyeet @fearlesschimera @holycollectivekitty @tribalhoochie

to be added for future writings, comment! don’t forget to like and reblog 🩷

this will be 3 (maybe 4) part fic, so warnings will update as we go. this fic will have some dark themes, as i’ve been inspired by @shes2real to embrace a few of them tbh😩🙏.

and in honor of my birthday being on the 15th (this wednesday) here is a treat!

xoxo, cleo.

[isavulpix]

DeBI TIRAR MaS FotoS

Jason Todd x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Alcohol consumption, angst? Angst, Reader is Latina, but not explicitly(? mentioned. English isn't my first language, so there will be errors.

I couldn't stop thinking of many things because of this song and TikTok didn't help (made me realize how many of my fav characters are dead). I haven’t made a songfic ever so I'm sorry if it doesn’t make sense, is not written right, or is too short.

Also if anyone knows how to change the color of the song background I will be highly grateful.

isavulpix masterlist

Otro sunset bonito que veo en San Juan

Disfrutando de todas esas cosas que extrañan los que se van (van, van)

Disfrutando de noche' de esas que ya no se dan (dan, dan)

Que ya no se dan (dan)

The blue sea crashed against the red and orange sky while you sat on the sand. The wind carried thoughts that you never imagined would turn into memories. Even at this hour, people were around, something normal compared to other places. You could hear the laughter of families making you smile, making the mental note of visiting your family soon. Focusing back on the sunset you let out a sigh, moving your sweater closer the wind was turning cold as you watched a couple in the sea.

Pero queriendo volver a la última vez

Y a los ojos te miré

Y contarte las cosas que no te conté (te parece' a mi crush, jaja)

Y tirarte la' foto' que no te tiré (acho, jura'o te ves bien linda, déjame tirarte una foto)

Bittersweet memories now flooded your mind, seeing in front of you the happy moments you could no longer revive. You cursed your past self for not taking more photos, your memories being the only evidence left of those times. The things you would do to be able to turn back time. To touch him, feel him, see him, and remember his smell. The shirt you had robbed from him had already lost his scent, just like you’re starting to forget what he looks like. Every memory gets foggier as a year passes.

Ey, tengo el pecho pela'o, me dio una matá'

El corazón dándome patá'

Dime, baby, ¿dónde tú está'?

What if things were different? Would you be here? Would you have made the same life choices? Would you be able to save him? Stop him from going? Or being there with him? Have you had your last time on earth together? Would the hole in your chest be filled if that night didn’t happen? Would your heart stop feeling like it was ripped and only barely functioning?

Yo veo tu nombre y me salen suspiro'

No sé si son petardo' o si son tiro'

Yo estoy en PR, tranquilo, pero

The wind moved some sand away from you, with a finger you doodle Jason with a small bird below it. You chuckled as you remembered the first solo patrol you two had, how the thugs scrambled to the floor when they heard the fireworks Jason had thrown to scare them. You look up at the sun touching the sea with a heavy heart as the wind erases the doodle.

Debí tirar más fotos de cuando te tuve

Debí darte más beso' y abrazo' las vece' que pude

Y si hoy me emborracho, pues que me ayuden

You place a can where the doodle was and take a sip of the one in your hand. The cold drink left a strange burn sensation as it ran down your throat. People really used this to cheer up? It states like shit. Looking at the can you think of the robbed moments. Would Jason like this? Laughed at me? Or maybe agreed and would convince me to swim for a bit? How can you miss moments that haven’t and won't happen?

Ey, hoy voy a estar con abuelo to'l día, jugando dominó

Si me pregunta si aún pienso en ti, yo le digo que no

Que mi estadía cerquita de ti ya se terminó

Ya se terminó

For the past 5 years life has been awful without him. Your family still this day worrying about you not overcoming Jason's absence. maybe Grandma has made some coquito in hopes of you showing signs of being alive. She knew the heartbreak of death, hours talking on the plastic chairs in her garden were easier than talking with Dinah.

 You look up confused when you feel raindrops on your face. Weird…the sky is clear…

Hoy yo quiero beber, beber, beber

Y hablar mierda hasta que me expulsen

Even with the horrible taste of the beer you drink what’s left in your can and took the one beside you. Thinking if it was a good idea to drink it, maybe if you get drunk you can finally have a dreamless sleep. You could hear the whispers of the people close to where you sat commenting about you, it was weird for them. Only gringos from the big screen cry in a beach.

Vamo' a disfrutar, que nunca se sabe si nos queda poco

Debí tirar más f—

Cleaning the raindrops with the back of your hand, you feel a presence beside you. As you look, you see a man close to where you are sitting, who looks to be of your age. Why does your gut flutter? Is it what I drank?

The man notices my gaze on him and with his familiar blue and greenish with mines.

“Take a picture, it will last longer”

[megalony]

Merciless Wrath- Part 2

Here is a follow up for my latest Emperor Geta imagine, this was requested by a lovely mututal.

I hope you will all like it, please let me know what you think.

Taglist: @justagirlthatlovedtoread @musicistheway @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @luula @missdreamofendless @bradleybeachbabe @woderfulkawaii @amberpanda99 @daggersquadphantom @marvel-and-chicago-fan @angryknightstatesmantrash @minjix @lyje @kmc1989 @itsmytimetoodream @noonenuts @hiireadstuff @ashie-babie @classyunknownlover @jayyeahthatsme @sp1ritssz @dumb-fawkin-bitch @oliverstarksbae @gimatida @heart-35 @supernaturalstilinski @kyky9103 @gay4hotmilfs @itshamleth @chaoticnosleepinfluencer @gs29 @wh0reforsmutstuff @mel-vaz @natashamea18 @chrisevansdaughter @alexandra848484 @deena-beena-weena @targaryenluvs @kpoplover-19 @marvelmenarebeautiful @gillybear17

@zoeybennett @mrspeacem1nusone @zephyrmonkey @estella-novella @eleventhdoctorsangel @kniselle @senjoritanana @shauna-carsley @dottierose @cfdhouse51 @darkfemme1 @rainechase45 @lolalolsstuff @jupiter1700 @ashdoctor @an-aliens-ghost @lunaroserites @houseoftwistedspirits @callsignwidow @winterreader-nowwriter @reneinii @bellsbomb @western-pyro @itsgigikay @harry-satellite @midsummereve1993 @babyqueen17 @buckyyyismahhlife @sammiejane22 @mrsyixingunicorn10 @op-81-lvr-reblogs @talicat713 @niamhmbt @strawberry-canyon @bieberhoodforever @911fangirlie @hollandxxmix @jasmineee05

Main Masterlist

Part 1

Summary: Geta loves how timid his wife is when it comes to watching the Gladiators. But Hell rises when one of the fighters decides to shoot an arrow and hits the Empress.

Enjoy.

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

Having an entourage of people crowding around him had never felt so daunting and irritating before. Geta used to love having people following him around like a shadow cast by the sun. He used to think it was encouraging and powerful to have people watching his every move and observing him like they thought he was a God walking amongst men.

But this was different. Geta didn't like having people crowding into the drawing room like this. He didn't like the nervous look plastered across the guard's faces. He didn't like the servants jittering from foot to foot, waiting to be told what to do and where to go. He didn't like people looking at him now because right in this moment, Geta didn't have any answers or orders for them.

He didn't know what to do when all he could feel was an overwhelming sense of betrayal and agonising fear.

Fear that he was going to lose the woman in front of him. The one who had taken his heart since the moment he first laid his eyes on her. She was the one with the pure heart of gold that was more valuable than any of the riches in Rome. (Y/n). (Y/n) was the purest soul here and now Geta was in danger of losing her.

If her wound didn't heal, if it got infected or she began to lose blood internally. If she didn't recover from this and Geta lost her, he would succumb to a worse state of madness than that which was slowly taking hold of his twin. Geta would be lost and the world would be at the mercy of his vengeance if he lost (Y/n).

With a deep rooted sigh, Geta pushed up from where he had been sat on the end of the sofa rather like one of the many marble statues that littered the palace. He couldn't sit in here any longer. He had to move, he had to do something, but he couldn't stray far from his wife. She needed him.

He turned around so he was crouched down beside the sofa (Y/n) was laid on. The healers had already explained things to him. They would be giving her more opium so she wouldn't wake until sometime tomorrow. Geta didn't like the thought of (Y/n) falling into an endless sleep, but her being asleep was the best way to let her body calm down and begin to heal, at least according to the best healers in Rome.

And by tomorrow the worst of the pain would have been dulled down by the opium and her body would have started to better itself. The pain would be bearable by the time she woke tomorrow. If indeed she woke from this at all. Geta prayed that she would; he couldn't imagine a scenario where she wouldn't.

With his knees pressing into the edge of the sofa, he hovered over (Y/n) and began to move her, little by little. He made sure both her arms were crossed safely and resting over her waist before he eased her head up from the cushion and leant her cheek against his chest instead.

"Sire?"

Geta spared a sideways glance towards the healers, all of whom were now watching him with a burning intensity in their eyes and confusion plastered across their faces.

"She isn't staying here." His snappy response had them all biting their tongues at any disapproval they might feel.

They weren't going to argue, they didn't feel able. And (Y/n) would have to be moved at some point, Geta was just moving her now rather than later. (Y/n) couldn't stay here in the drawing room, it wasn't practical and Geta wouldn't have her spending the next day or two laid on his sofa. If she was going to be induced into slumber by opiotes then she would do so in the comfort of her own bed in her own room. Where he could properly sit with her and keep watch over her.

Once her head was safely lolled against his shoulder, Geta slid his arms beneath her frame and eased her up into his arms bridal style, the same as how he had frantically carried her an hour earlier when he brought her here.

Only this time Geta felt much calmer. He didn't feel like each step he took was causing the world around him to crumble into dust. He didn't feel like he was running towards a bright light that was going to snatch his wife away from him. He wasn't rushing to find help or feeling her body go limp and lifeless in his arms.

This time, he walked with slow determination and his eyes constantly casting down to his beloved. It didn't matter that Geta could feel her softly breathing against his neck. He wanted- no, needed, to see that slow rise and fall of her chest. He needed to see her body working and be reassured that she wasn't about to stop breathing or suddenly slip away from him. He had to make sure she wasn't leaving him, for anything.

"Move." That one word was enough to frighten everyone in his path and have the guards slinking off to the sides to allow him to pass by.

Geta stormed out of the drawing room and began walking slowly down the hall towards the nearest set of stairs.

He could feel the entourage following behind him. Caracalla being the closest behind him. Followed by at least four guards with heavy steps and clattering swords against their hips just waiting to be used and weaponised against anyone. He was sure the healers were following too along with the few servants who had filtered into the drawing room to see if they could help.

Geta hated them all. He hated how they were following him as if this were some grand procession rather than him trying to take his wife somewhere else to keep her safe and rested and comfortable.

He hated that he needed them all to follow. He hated that he needed the healers close by in case his wife took a turn for the worst. And how he needed the guards to ensure no one else tried to harm her like this. And his brother's presence to keep the last bit of sanity he had. And the maids and servants to be nearby to tend to his wife who was now motionless and unconscious in his arms.

He didn't want them following, but he needed them all the same.

His eyes cast down to his wife once again as he began his ascent up the stairs. He could see how her skin was starting to swell even more now. It wasn't just the tenderness beneath the bandages around her chest. He could see swelling rising to her right shoulder making the skin tense and push against the bandages wrapped around her frame.

He hated the pale blue tinge to her parted lips that showed she had a lack of oxygen and possibly too much opium in her system than was really good for her.

And what hurt him more was the fact that it wasn't just one wound. It was two holes torn through her skin. It was a stitched up hole through her chest and one in her back too. It was the right side of her chest that was swelling and sore and meant she wouldn't be able to move her arm for a while.

And the fact that her dress had been stained and torn beyond repair irritated Geta even more. No one else but him should be able to cast their eyes on his wife's beautiful silky skin, and yet everyone in that room had seen her chest and had a dangerous view towards her cleavage when her dress had been pulled down to expose her wound.

Even now while she was laid in his arms with her golden dress stained dark rouge, the fabric was barely covering her chest. It was hooked over her left shoulder but pulled off her right arm to make the wound visible. Geta had readjusted the material half a dozen times already to make sure her cleavage was covered to spare her the indignity.

He didn't realise his nostrils were flaring and his breathing had turned ragged until he was almost towards their shared chamber and he found his chest heaving with frustration and unfiltered fury.

He didn't wait for anyone to open the chamber door when he got there. With it being partially opened, all Geta had to do was slam his foot into the base of the door and it swung wide open for him.

He stormed into the room, ignoring the sounds of dozens of footsteps following swiftly behind him.

He passed through the main room that they used as a joint study, a reading room that (Y/n) frequented more than Geta, and he blundered through into the bedroom.

The sight of the golden sunlight streaming through the open windows was irritating. Geta didn't like the dark orange glow as the sun was halfway towards setting behind the sand. He didn't like how warm and iridescent the room looked compared to how dark, cold and gruelling it should have looked after what had happened to his wife today.

But he ignored the bright sun in favour of rounding the side of the bed. He didn't want to set her down. He had been holding her for long enough that Geta simply wanted to keep her here, safe in his embrace until his arms snapped and his body dropped. He wasn't tired or aching from carrying her, rather the opposite. He felt himself growing angrier and more protective the longer she was in his arms.

He pressed his knees into the edge of the bed and carefully eased forward until he could set (Y/n) down in the middle of the bed.

Once she was laid down, Geta perched on the side of the bed with one hand pressing into the pillows so he could lean over her. And his other hand carefully began brushing tendrils of hair away from her face, one at a time while he took the time to glide his fingers across her cheek and along her neck.

He didn't like how motionless and unresponsive she was, this wasn't normal.

He bent forward to press a tender kiss against her temple that was flushed with sweat and radiating heat enough to rival the sun in the hottest days. His lips stayed against her temple for a few moments, maybe a few minutes, while he listened too the sound of her soft breathing.

When he finally lifted his head, he cast his eyes towards the doorway where two maids were meekly stood. They had their hands clasped together in front of them and their eyes cast down towards their feet, not wanting to intrude or face Geta's frustration if they had somehow overstepped any marks.

He trailed his fingertip along (Y/n)'s chin and down her neck before he sighed to himself and climbed off the bed.

He approached the maids with a look of distaste on his features and every part of his body shaking, seething with anger. But the way he took a slow, calming breath and silently pointed his hand behind him towards his wife showed a small air of relief as he tried to calm down just a little.

"Change the Empress and make her comfortable. I want that dress burned."

Both maids nodded their heads and finally dared to lift their gazes to look at their Emperor. He looked rabid and his expression was dangerous, but there was also something caring hidden within those eyes.

He wanted them to be careful when they looked after his wife. He wanted them to treat her as if she were something fragile that was about to break. He wanted them to touch her as if she were a petal, so delicate and beautiful and close to ruin if handled without care.

And he wanted that golden dress to be thrown on the fire and burned to ash and dust. Geta didn't ever want to see that dress again. He didn't want to see that dress or the blood stains that reminded him of what had happened, no matter if that was his wife's favourite (and his favourite) dress. It couldn't be salvaged and therefore it had to go so it didn't serve as a memory for the Empress when she eventually awoke.

Just as the maids went to walk past him, Geta reached his hand out and clamped his cold fingers around the younger girl's arm. He wrenched her closer and tilted his head down to sneer in her ear. "Be careful."

The young maid nodded her head frantically and tried her best not to burst into fits of tears. Not only had the Empress who the maid adored been hurt but now she was tasked with tending to her. The maid felt too inexperienced to be looking after the loving Empress who didn't deserve this kind of anguish. And she didn't want to do something wrong and be subjected to the Emperor's wrath.

Once they were both tasked with helping (Y/n), Geta left the room and closed the door behind him. He wouldn't have anyone trying to look in and spectate and watch. The only people going into that room would be Geta, the healers and the few servants who Geta approved. No one else would see the Empress while she was in this state.

An overwhelming headache crashed through Geta's temple and flooded his head behind his eyes when he approached the adjoining study and saw everyone crowding in. He didn't want any of them in here. They were useless and getting in the way.

"I don't need three of you. Out." His hand pointed menacingly towards the healers. He wanted the elder gentleman who had attended to (Y/n) in the drawing room. (Y/n) wasn't dying, Geta didn't need three healers stood twiddling their thumbs in here, he only needed one.

He wouldn't let that healer leave until (Y/n) was fully recovered. The healer could be set up in a room on this floor and he would be called on day and night if needed. The healer had already agreed to stay here at the palace and be ready to tend to the Empress, when and if she should need him.

Once they departed the room, Geta turned to look at the guards. "Why are you in here? My wife has been shot and you've been no help at all. Do you're jobs out there before I'm the one shooting arrows. All of you get out!"

His voice rose higher and higher until he was roaring so loud that his face turned as dark as (Y/n)'s stained dress and spit froffed from his lips. He waved his hand at everyone in the room. The guards, the servants and the maid. He wanted none of them in here.

The servants weren't needed. The guards didn't have to be in here; what were they going to protect Geta from within his own chamber? They should be out in the hall, patroling and making sure no one got up to this floor and got anywhere near the Empress. Standing in here watching Geta wasn't going to help or do anything useful.

Everyone rushed to leave, pushing and shoving one another until they were all blundering out of the door and only Caracalla was left in the room.

He looked disgruntled. He didn't know what to do with himself or how to settle because this had never happened before. Caracalla knew his presence alone would be helpful to his twin, in times of desperation and panic they always found and clung to one another. He wasn't going anywhere and the tender look in Geta's otherwise unhappy face told Caracalla that his presence was indeed welcomed and needed.

"She will be well?" Caracalla's words sounded more like a question than a reassuring affirmation.

He had grown fond of (Y/n). In his outbursts of anger, she had often soothed him and calmed him down. When he became disgruntled and confused, she gave him clarity and she treated him like a friend rather than a nuisance. And she was fond of Dondus.

Caracalla didn't want to lose her and he didn't want to deal with the broken pieces that would be left of his brother if he lost her.

Both their heads turned to look towards the doorway when it creaked open. geta was ready to shout at whoever dared to intrude and waltz back into the room, but he stopped himself short when he realised who it was.

General Acacius.

He had departed when Geta demanded they find the gladiator who had caused this mess. Hopefully his return meant they had found the man responsible. Geta wanted to make an example of him. He wanted to attack the man who had done this and unleash a new wave of Hell upon him.

"Emperor…" Acacius dipped his head in acknowledgement as he stepped into the room and stood before both Emperors.

Geta stayed standing, too riled to even try and sit down and hold himself still when all he wanted to do was trash the room until only broken pieces were left to resemble how he felt on the inside. While Caracalla remained unusually still, sat up straight with his hands fiddling with the belt around his middle to try and give some stimulation and stop himself from mooching about the room like a bored child.

"Did you find him? The one who did this?" If so, it hadn't taken them very long to find him. But then again, none of the Gladiators would have been able to escape the colosseum so it shouldn't have taken too much brains to work out which one had shot the arrow. Only one gladiator had been given the bow and arrow to begin with.

"We found him, and he's talking."

"Talking, what does he say exactly? Do not tell me he's boasting."

Geta's words were fuelled by anger and displayed how volatile he was. If the gladiator was indeed boasting then Geta would begin burning the city to show his rage. He would unleash torment onto his citizens and dismember every gladiator held within that colosseum if one had been boasting about harming the beloved Empress.

"No, no… he says he was paid to target the Empress." Acacius didn't want to be the one delivering this news. He knew how unstable both Emperors could be, especially without (Y/n) stood here to calm them and be the voice of reason.

And he knew this news wasn't going to go down well with Geta. It wouldn't settle well with Acacius if he found out that someone had been paid to try and harm and kill his own wife.

"Paid?" Gladiators often died in the arena, most succumbed to death than found their way out of the colosseum. Why would one take a bribe and accept money when his life wasn't guaranteed? Why be paid to do something so trecherous when he could be mauled to death the next day if he was chosen to fight in the arena?

"His family have fled Rome, probably with the money he was offered. He was paid and promised his freedom if he hurt the Empress… from what he says, someone wanted her dead."

Acacius did well to steady his frame and hold still when Geta lashed out. He clasped his hands tightly behind his back and steeled his frame, closing his eyes so he didn't have to bear witness to Geta's anger.

A horrible grating scream left Geta's lips as he reached out for the vase of flowers on the table beside the sofa. He launched the white and ocean blue vase with as much strength as he could muster, watching as it flew like a bird through the air before colliding with the far wall.

Pieces of dried clay splintered across the floor like the first fall of snow and a soul shattering echo vibrated around the room when the vase broke apart and the fragments bounced across the marble floor.

Flowers laid on the floor, some snapped, some in tact and most with their petals fallen and loose leaving them bare and effectively dead, melting into the puddle of water that soaked them up.

"Who?!"

Geta roared with all his might as his lips turned beet red and his eyes became bloodshot and narrowed. His hands trembled in tight fists at his sides and he felt like stomping his foot in anger when he didn't receive a response right away.

Who would do this to (Y/n)? Who would order her death and execute a plan like this? Why would they do this to her?

She was the light of Rome. Geta knew of no subject in his capital who held one ounce of hatred towards his wife. She was loving and fair to all and as soon as Geta announced his engagement to her, the people seemed to rejoice. Geta and Caracalla had gained numerous favour with the people by bringing (Y/n) to the throne.

"Macrinus." Acacuis could well believe the old Senate had been the one to do this. He was power hungry, he strived for greatness and power and control and Rome was next on his list to conquor.

He would do anything to get his way and he would bend anyone to his will in order to better himself. Macrinus was a man who had once been a slave, a man who fought for his life and scrambled his way out of the colosseum by the skin of his teeth and who had made something of himself. But he had gotten to the highest point he could. Macrinus couldn't further himself any more unless he used force and broke the rules to get himself on the throne and be the person with the most power and control in Rome. In the world.

Geta's expression changed from a look of fury to the look of a broken man.

One of their own Senates, someone who had risen through the ranks and who they trusted. Someone like that who had power and authority, had thrown it all away by coming up with such a devious, haneous plan to kill the Empress. Geta's heart and soul.

Geta wasn't a very well-learned man. He had spent more time learning about war and governing Rome than reading passages and poems and scholars. But he did remember one thing that had stuck with him.

You do not have a soul. You are a soul, you have a body.

He thought there was something justified in that, until he met (Y/n). Then he disbelieved. Geta truly felt that he was a body, a vessel and his heart and soul had been given away to (Y/n) to protect and nurture for him. He wasn't complete unless he had her by his side.

And Macrinus had tried to take her from him.

"Why?" There was clear fury boiling over in Caracalla's voice, even if he hadn't quite fit all the pieces together yet. He was still furious that someone they trusted had tried to sabotage them and harm (Y/n) in this manner.

"To get to me," Geta's voice was no more than a whisper and his expression stayed oddly blank as he seemed to stare down at the marbled floor. "To send me into a state of madness."

Acacius nodded grimly.

Marrying (Y/n) had redeemed Geta for all the bad things he had done, the people he had killed, the mercy he never showed to people and the harm he had brought to Rome for seeking new liberties for her.

But when he married (Y/n), it brought back a popularity to Geta and to Caracalla too. They were favourable in the public eye. (Y/n) was loved by the people and she had earned their respect, the people seemed to think she was a gift from the Gods, Geta's thoughts exactly.

The people saw how (Y/n) calmed Geta down, how she guided him and helped hima nd how good she was to him and for all of Rome. By killing (Y/n), it would cause Geta to spiral into a state of despair and he would become vulnerable to someone using his anger and tormented grief as a means to gain power and manipulate him.

Macrinus could easiky sway Geta to his advantage and use him to further himself if Geta was maddened with grief and on the verge of burning his Kingdom to the ground and wanting to lose himself in the process. Geta couldn't survive without (Y/n) and Macrinus had clearly worked that out. He knew how to play the game, but Geta wouldn't let this continue.

"There are to be no more games; I want this barbaric hound in the colosseum tomorrow. He will be executed."

Geta wouldn't allow any more games to continue. They had been scheduled all week but they would be cancelled now. No one should celebrate after what had happened to the Empress.

But tomorrow wouldn't be a game, and it wouldn't be a spectacle like the rest of the games. Tomorrow would be an execution for all of Rome to witness. They could see their traitor be punished for his crimes, for what he had done to their beloved Empress.

Geta turned on his heels, about to walk back into the bedroom but he paused after a second thought and glanced over his shoulder to look at Acacius. "Find Macrinus. He can join his barbarian in death."

***

A subtle shaking began to overtake Geta's body as he began to pace the length of the viewing box in the colosseum.

Everything was capturing his attention.

It had been only yesterday that the attack on (Y/n) had taken place and there had been very little time for the servants to clean up in here and make it look presentable once again.

They hadn't removed the chair. Geta could see the large hole in the exquisitely carved wood from where the arrowhead had lodged itself there. He could see the blood that had stained the lacquered wood in a large streak down the back and onto the cushioned seat. He could see the remnants of his wife's blood soaked into the stone floor in a puddle that couldn't be cleaned away. Not yet. Not without vigorous effort and a lot of vinegar and cleaning supplies.

One or two remnants of fruit were dried up on the floor from when Geta had snatched the cloth to use on (Y/n)'s wound and subsequently took the knife to cut her free from the chair she had been pinned to.

And clenched in his right fist, was the arrow that had been impaled in his wife yesterday.

Geta had spent all of last night lying awake, vigil by his wife's side with that wooden arrow resting on his bedside table. He stared at it when sleep evaded him. He praised his wife's sleeping body for surviving having such a horrible instrument impaled through her delicate skin.

He nursed her when she tremored and shook and broke out in a fever, he gave her more opium to keep her asleep and rested and he helped turn her every few hours to prevent sores and keep her circulation flowing.

And now he was here, back at the scene of the haneous crime with his brother and the General. Back to commit vengeance on behalf of his beloved.

He could see that Caracalla seemed too bewildered and unsettled to sit back down in his seat. His rightful throne. He couldn't sit there when only yesterday his sister had been punctured to her own throne by that arrow. Sitting down felt like he was setting himself up for the same fate or somehow dismissing what had happened to her.

Caracalla settled on standing at the corner of the royal box with his hands resting on the balcony so he could lean forwards and stare down into the arena. He didn't look too far, in fear of toppling forward or finding an arrow or a sword flying his way.

And at the back of the box stood Acacius, hidden by drapery. Both hands clasped together in front of him while he bowed his head in respect. He was here as a curtesy and for protection. But he wasn't sure what kind of reaction the crowds would give to todays events.

Finally, Geta stopped pacing and stepped forward towards the balcony so he could leer down and observe.

He hadn't been able to watch the fight. He couldn't watch that hound, that vicious, selfish gladiator who had shot the arrow now clasped tightly in his hand. Geta couldn't watch him try in vain to fight for his life that he surely knew Geta would not spare, not for anything in the world.

Nor could he look down upon Macrinus and see that deceitful, spiteful arrogant man fight like he used to when he was once a slave to Rome.

He watched them both fight well against five gladiators who were there simply to outnumber them and provide a show before the execution.

Geta had told Acacius not to tell Macrinus that today was his execution. He was invited to the palace last night and kept under watchful eye until dawn when Geta approached him and asked him why he would come up with such a scheme.

Macrinus as good as admitted what he'd done and that was enough for Geta. He let Acacius bring the scorned senate here, but he was under the impression he could fight his way to victory and be spared like before.

Well, not today.

A glimmer of glee mingled with spite lit up Geta's eyes as he stared down into the arena that had streaks of blood mingling in with the golden hues of sand.

Both the barbaric gladiator and Macrinus were now knelt in in the centre of the arena, their heads cast up towards the viewing box to see what their fate would be. It seemed the gladiator had already accepted that his punishment would be death; Geta could see that all-knowing, sorrowful look building in his eyes. Whereas Macrinus looked hopeful, and that made Geta's anger soar.

His hands pressed down into the smooth stone balcony and he leaned over to stare down at them with the arrow pinned between his palm and the stone.

"You took it upon yourselves to try and take Rome for yourselves. You tried to murder your Empress. The attack on her was planned and executed by your hands. Now all of Rome shall see your demise."

His fingers began to tap against the stone, but he moved his right hand over the edge and held the arrow. He knew the crowds wouldn't be able to see what he held and he knew both Macrinus and the gladiator would have a hard time distinguishing what was in his hand, but they would work it out. They would see the tip stained in blood and the thin wooden shape and they would know.

They would know that this was now Geta's token. This was something he was going to keep. It was going to fuel his anger, his fire and his rage and the protectiveness within him to keep his wife safe. And this token was going to be used to threaten anyone in Rome to keep them in line and keep them away from the Empress.

"The Gods have spoken, and you have enraged them. While the Empress lives, you cannot."

Lifting his hand, Geta stuck his thumb out and slowly twisted his wrist until his hand was angled down. His lips twitched into a sickening snarl and his jaw clenched so tightly his teeth started to grate and grind down against one another.

He would never let either of them live. He wouldn't allow them to live in Rome or be exiled to a nearby nation. They couldn't survive when they had almost robbed (Y/n) of her life. They had tried to rob Geta of his beloved, of his sanity and his heart and soul. That was an act that was unforgiveable and had to be punished. The price was their lives.

General Acacius stepped out of the shadows just enough to look at the scene as both men were impaled with arrows. More than five arrows each, into various parts of their body. The symbol they had tried to use to kill (Y/n) had now ended their own lives.

He was prepared. He was waiting to escort both Emperors out of the box and through the colosseum to get them back to safety. He was anticipating the crowds roars, their screams of anguish and terror as a highly praised Senate was executed without mercy.

But he wasn't prepared for the cheers.

The crowds were smiling. They were tossing rags and remnants of food and even stones down into the arena. They were throwing their fists in the air, their voices were overwhelming and surging and uplifting.

Almost no one in the colosseum was sad to see these men be put to death. They were cheering.

A toothy grin splintered across Caracalla's face showing off his golden tooth as he stepped forward, grinning and revelling in the cheers of their people. They were praising them for showing no mercy. This is what both Emperors had always wanted, the support of their people when they became ruthless.

something righteous bubbled up inside of Geta as he finally allowed himself to smile and bask in this victory that was his and his alone.

He tilted his head back, aiming his chin high while his fractured smile stayed splayed across his face and his narrowed eyes watched both men fall into the dirt where they belonged. He watched the life drain out of them as the blood soaked into the arena floor that would have to be swept and scrubbed and gritted with fresh sand to cover the leftover pieces of their deaths.

The crowds were clapping. They were all in agreement.

The people truly did love their Empress; they wanted to watch her attackers bend at the knee and pay the price for their crimes. There had been outrage in Rome yesterday when people heard and witnessed what happened to their beloved Empress. And now, only one day later, they were satisfied that their Empress was indeed alive and now she would be safe with these men put to death.

There would be no riots for what had happened here today, only celebration. Encouraging cheers and rounds of celebration that Rome's beloved Empress was safe and her attackers were no longer a threat.

***

Geta felt an overwhelming sense of love when he opened the bedroom door. It was the way (Y/n) looked at him when he walked in. With those big round eyes and that sparkle that had come back to them now she wasn't dosed to the heavens with opium.

It was the way she smiled when she saw him like he was the light in her life and she thought that Geta was the sun bringing her light and a source of life.

She still looked terribly unwell and unsettingly weak, but that smile was enough to bring a light to Geta's shrouded heart.

He watched as Lucilla and the maid carefully eased (Y/n) forward so they could help her sit up. Her right arm was laid limp across her lap, still able to move but not without significant pain. The healer had told (Y/n) the moment she became lucid that she should refrain from moving her arm until her stitches were taken out and her wound was fully mended.

Her hair fell in unruly waves around her shoulders and Geta noted to himself that he would brush her hair for her later, he knew she would hate to get knots and tangles.

The discomfort was clear on her face as she winced and shuddered, but once she was leant back into the pillows, (Y/n) stretched her good arm out and curled her fingers. Softly motioning for Geta to come over to her. She hadn't been properly awake or lucid this morning before he left, but Lucilla had taken residence at her bedside and helped nurse her for the morning. And she had filled (Y/n) in on what was happening today and what had happened at the colosseum this morning.

Both Lucilla and the maid excused themselves when Geta approached and they left the room, closing the door behind them to give the couple some privacy.

The moment he sat down on the bed, (Y/n) looped her left arm around the back of his neck and tugged him closer. She sighed contentedly when he tucked his face into her neck and the feel of each breath fanning across her throat was surprisingly soothing. Her fingers latched into his hair and her cheek nestled against the top of his head while Geta bound his arms around her waist.

He made sure to keep his arms low around her abdomen, not daring to even brush his skin against her wound in fear of inflicting any sort of pain onto her by mistake.

"How are you, my love?" His words were muffled against her throat but (Y/n) managed to hear him just fine.

"Okay now."

He knew what she meant, and it made him grin. She was okay now that he was back.

When he lifted his head from her neck, he kept one arm around her back while the other cupped her face. He brushed his thumb along her lower lip and down her chin before he kissed her. He tried not to devour her lips and nestled his nose against hers, letting her pull back for air rather than pushing her down and inhaling all the air from her lungs. He didn't want to overwhelm her when she wasn't well.

He scanned his eyes around the room once he pulled back and instead attached his lips to her temple where he could stay for seconds, minutes, hours if he wanted without overwhelming her or stealing her breath away.

The plate of dried fruits and bread were untouched and the pitcher of water was still mostly full. She hadn't managed to eat anything or drink very much yet, but there was still time. Geta would help her gain back her strength, he would nurse her back to health.

"Lucilla said this- this was planned." (Y/n) couldn't help but shudder at the thought of what had truly happened yesterday. "That Macrinus orchestrated it."

Some of the day was blurred, it felt like a feverish dream that was fading before (Y/n)'s very eyes. She could feel Geta's hands gripping her skin, she could feel the way his pulse seemed to pound through her skin too and the frantic tone of his voice telling her to look at him, stay with him, listen to him.

She could feel his hands on her burning skin, she could feel the tonic trickling through her system and making her fall into horrible dreams, even if it did take the horrendous pain from her shoulder and chest.

But knowing that everything that happened yesterday was deliberate hurt (Y/n)'s mind and crushed her heart.

She never thought that someone would stoop so low as to hurt her like that, to try and kill her because they knew Geta's love for her was so unconditional and widespread that he would simply cave without her. That they thought they could use her death to control her husband, it was despicable.

Tears were already glistening in (Y/n)'s eyes at the thought that just a few inches to the left and she wouldn't be here. A better aim, if she had sat at a different angle, and she would be in the chapel waiting to be laid to eternal rest with the Gods.

Geta tilted his head down when he felt something wet against his throat and his upper lip curled into a tortured snarl when he realised (Y/n) was crying.

He sat up straighter beside her, moving his hand around to cup the back of her neck while he began kissing her temple with fever. "Shh, shh it's alright my love. You're alright now."

He felt her left arm loosen from around his waist and he waited, intrigued, as she slid her hand up his abdomen until she had her hand clenched in his tunic in between their chests instead. She leaned into his touch, relishing in his words and kisses that were being peppered against her temple while she closed her eyes and tried to calm down.

He was right. (Y/n) was okay now, she was going to recover from this and heal and get better. She had been so lucky to escape the ordeal with her life when she could have easily passed away from her injuries. If Geta hadn't of thought and acted as quickly as he did, she wouldn't be here.

"He's no longer a threat to you. I've dealt with them both, and Rome rejoices."

"Thank you."

Geta tried to smile against her temple, but when he tilted his head to the side and peered down at her, he could feel his chest bubbling with that familiar sense of rage that kept getting out of control.

The maids had dressed (Y/n) in a thin nightgown that undid with strings at the front. Something very easy to remove for when they had to change the bandages and bindings around (Y/n)'s chest and so the healers could attend to her wound and check the stitches.

Right now, the gown was hanging off her right shoulder and it allowed Geta to see this mornings fresh bandages. He could see how her skin was still swollen and how the bandage had to be wrapped around her upper chest, beneath her arm and around her shoulder and collar bone to keep it tight and in place. He dreaded to think what her wound looked like.

When the wound had been checked in the early hours of the morning, Geta had witnessed. Partially to make sure (Y/n)'s modesty was preserved and so he could witness the damage. Swollen, discoloured skin. Tight stitches that looked far too harsh and degrading to be punctured into (Y/n)'s silky skin. Dried patches of blood glued to her skin where the wound leaked and oozed.

Geta was just waiting for it to become infected and for the healers to tell him his relief had been short-lived.

He had already told the guards that tomorrow, as long as (Y/n) was okay, he would be taking pilgrimage to pray to Juno, the Goddess and protector of women. Geta wanted to make sure the Gods understood that he was eternally grateful that (Y/n) had been spared, but he wanted to ensure her health. He wanted to pray to Juno to keep watch over (Y/n) and keep her safe.

If his prayers worked then Geta would never again think it stupid to pray at a Gods feet when he was the Emperor of all Rome. He would take pilgrimage and pray much more often if they watched over (Y/n) and Caracalla for him.

"For now, I don't want you anywhere near the Senates, none of them. And I need you to remain here in the palace, where you're safe."

(Y/n) nodded against his chest without really taking his words in at first, but when she realised what he was saying, she couldn't help but feel relieved. She didn't want anything to do with the Senates. She didn't want to attend any meetings or visit the Senates and engage in conversation, not when one of them had tried to have her killed and so many others could want to do the same to gain control over all of Rome and her entities.

If Geta wanted her to stay in the palace then that was what (Y/n) would do. She knew she was safe here with all the guards and servants, and she knew Geta wouldn't be leaving her side for a while yet. It was going to take time for her wound to heal and she couldn't move her arm too much until that happened. (Y/n) wasn't likely to go out until her arm was back under her control and she was no longer crippled with pain.

"I don't want you in the public eye either, until I'm assured your safety is guaranteed. I won't have this happening to you again. I can't lose you."

Geta felt (Y/n) hum against his throat and he bound his arm just a little tighter around her waist.

He couldn't have (Y/n) out in the public. The people of Rome might love her like she were a Goddess walking amongst them, but there might still be people out there who wanted to harm her.

Until the guards could guarantee that they could stop any other murderous attempt on (Y/n)'s life, Geta wasn't having her walk out of the palace. He was having her where he could see and protect her at all times.

Geta couldn't come that close to losing her again. Ever.

[yourenothingbutnottome]

A Court of Snakes and Vipers (Part 1?)

Mattheo Riddle x F!Potter

Word Count: 2.9k

Summary: At Platform 9 3/4 and the train ride to Hogwarts for the first day of 6th year, Slytherin bashing, friend bashing, tension with family over house and chosen friendships, establishing deep cemented loyalties to the Snake Gang, bestie Draco x OC, Mattheo/OC mutual pining but worried over the implications of the war, 1POV

Notes: AU, Potter parents alive, Harry!twin OC (Livina Rose Potter, NN Rose, Liv, Livvy), Slytherin, characters aged up, Draco in his bestie era, OC has secret power than can change the tide of the war, Snake crew bloodsworn to Rose TOG style; just a little scene that played in my brain while going to sleep one night, idk if anyone other than me will like it, might not continue but I just wanted to write this out for my own sanity bc I couldn't stop thinking about it, not beta read, bad writing, banner from @sweetmelodygraphics

“What did Malfoy say to you on the platform?” Harry interrogates as soon as the door to our compartments reaches its close. 

“Geez, how long were you holding that one in?” I laugh, taking a seat across from Hermione and Ron, leaving Harry’s spot open for him by the window.

“I’m serious, Liv.” He sits, body entirely facing me.

“Okay?” 

“What did he say?” His voice is harsh.

I roll my eyes and chuckle in disbelief at the way he instantly goes into what I call “Savior” mode.

“Nothing important.” I say with a finality, hoping he dismisses the conversation at that. But of course he doesn’t.

He turns so that he’s addressing the three of us. “I think he’s a Deatheater.” Before I can laugh or tell him how ridiculous he’s being, he continues. “I think he’s a Deatheater and I want to know what he said to you.”

I think back to the brief interaction, mere moments ago when we were saying goodbye to our parents for the upcoming term.

My arms are wrapped around my father in a final hug. He kisses the top of my head and pushes me out to an arms length. “Let me get a good look at you before you go,” he jokes. “Yup, two arms, two legs and oh look at that! A head attached to the rest of your body! I expect all of those things to be there when we see you for Christmas.”

“James, enough,” our mother scolds, humor light in her voice. She smooths Harry’s tie for the 100th time.

“What?! I don’t have to worry about Harry! But, you never know with these Slytherins,” he laughs.

“James.” Mom’s voice is edged and leaves no room for argument. 

“Sorry, honey” He lays a hand on my cheek. “You know I tease. Slytherin or not, I love you. You have a good heart, and you know right from wrong.” He affirms, as if these are traits that Slytherins are incapable of having.

“You know Slytherins aren’t monsters …” I say.

“Of course you aren’t. That’s what I was saying, darling.”

“No. You were saying I’m not a monster. Not Slytherins. Like there’s the rest of them, and then there’s me. A wayward Slytherin. Different.”

“Well, you are different.”

I step back. “No .. I’m not.” My voice hardens, as it always does when I’m forced to defend my house, to defend my friends.

“Let’s not do this now,” mom pleads. I’ve been having this argument the entirety of my academic career at Hogwarts, but it’s gotten significantly worse after the events of last year: the confirmation of Voldemort’s return and the murder of our Uncle Sirius. Harry’s vision had led us to the ministry under a ruse and ever since, dad has been extra tense. 

“No, let's.” Harry interjects. “You know who her ‘friends’ are.” He says the word ‘friends’ as if it's coated in poison. 

My mother attempts to lecture the two of them while I tune their voices out. It isn’t anything different than what I’d heard the entire summer. Instead, I look across the way, meeting Draco’s gaze.

His mother drops him off, rushing to evade the eyes of curious onlookers, but lingering to share the last few moments with her son. Lucius is absent, of course, which is why so many are looking. They know about what happened last year; the paper hasn’t stopped running articles on their family, all centered on his father’s stay in Azkaban. 

Draco hushes his mother’s worrying, and though I am not close enough to hear, I am sure he is reassuring her and putting on a strong face for her. His back is to me as he gives her a hug goodbye, whispering something softly to her that causes her eyes to flash and focus on mine. She gives me a tight smile before turning her attention back to her son. He gently grabs his trolley of luggage, steady hands leaving her shaking ones, giving her the opportunity to apparate away. 

His entire body is stiff, rigged with pressure and expectations that no one our age should carry. Eyes back to mine, I can see everything he’s hiding from the rest of the world. I can see beyond the mask, I can see to Draco. His pain. His mourning. His innocence. His fear. His desperation. His courage. I see him. My closest friend, my brother. I see a soldier, one like no other. 

“Livina Rosalie Potter, you listen to me.” My father scolds. “Stop zoning out. You’ve been doing that all summer.”

“Because you’ve been saying the same things and it’s a bunch of hogwash that I don’t care to listen to all summer.” I respond, full rebellion on display.

He flubbers for just a moment, temporarily speechless. “I don’t care what house you’re in. You are a Potter. You are a symbol in this war. You are a weapon. And you are naive to believe they don’t see that.” 

“Who are ‘they’?” I sass, knowing full well who he means.

His face is tense with a quiet rage. “I will pull you out of school if I have to. I have half a mind to ask Dumbledore a personal favor and have you switched to Gryffindor house so that your brother can watch over you because apparently of the two of you, he’s the only one who can use his brain.”

“James!” My mother gasps, shocked.

“No, Lily,” he hisses. “If Liv can’t take care of herself, then someone else will have to do it for her.” He looks to me again. “You aren’t making smart decisions. You’re putting yourself in incredible danger. They aren’t your friends and even if they aren’t active participants yet, they will be soon and they aren’t worth saving. Don’t you ever forget what a threat they pose to you or how dangerous and violent they can be.” 

My entire being vibrates with a rage so fierce that it feels as if I am boiling straight from my very core. My fingers twitch, clenching and unclenching around an object that isn’t there. I can feel that hidden, secret power within me screaming to be unleashed with my anger, begging to be let free, desperate to defend those it perceives to be threatened. 

Just as I open my mouth to release my outrage, fury coiling inside of me, a strong shoulder rams into mine, causing the trolley that the offending arm was pulling to go tumbling. Trunks scatter. An owl screeches as its cage topples to my feet. Ryu. (Pronounced Rue). Draco’s owl. 

“Sorry. I wasn’t looking where I was going,” he apologizes, terse and polite. He bends close to where I had fallen, gathering his discarded items. He looks to me as he feigns struggling with one trunk in particular, and speaks so that no other may hear. “Don’t. Control it. You are strong. Stifle it and wait. You hold the fate of the future within you and this is not our time to fight. You fight, we fight. But this is not that fight.” He stands straight, trolley re-packed and stacked neatly. “Sorry, again.” he says loud enough for my family to hear, standing straight and holding his hand out. 

I place my scarred hand into his, using his strength to both pull me to my feet and to ground me in a wave of calm and control.

“See you in class,” he dismisses and continues his walk to the train.

“Ugh, Harry, will you just drop it? Please?”

“Why? So he did say something to you?’ His eyes narrow as he glares at me. “You need to quit hanging out with him. With all of them. I don’t know why you aren’t taking this seriously. You need to listen to dad, and you need to listen to me.”

“Here we go,” Ron huffs, throwing his hands in the air and leaning back into his seat.

“You’re not the boss of me, Harry. Now why don’t you just piss off and leave my friends alone? Why are you like this?”

“Your friends?” he scoffs, unbelieving “They don’t care about anyone but themselves. They’re on the wrong side of this war and you know it! You’re absolutely stupid if you think any different.”

“I’m … stupid?” I question with the eerie calm that got me sorted into Slytherin to begin with. “Stupid because I won’t let my brother, my “Holier-Than-Thou,-Can-Do-No-Wrong” brother tell me who I can and can’t be friends with? I’m stupid ….” my voice rises as I stand in confrontation, “because I’m defending the people I care about? The people who, mind you, you know nothing about. Nothing other than your own prejudice and disgusting bigotry!”

“Bigotry?!” Harry, also standing now, exclaims in shock. “That’s rich coming from the girl defending someone who called Hermione a Mudblood, defending someone who is the literal spawn of the man responsible for this war? All of their parents were in that room last year, hunting us! Hunting you! They killed Sirius! Does that mean nothing to you?!” He huffs again in the pretentious way that only Harry can scoff. “So yes, you’re stupid to continue to associate with people trying to hunt you and your family. You’re stupid for thinking that when the time comes, they won’t hand you over to Voldemort and betray you. You’re stupid if you think they haven’t thought of doing the killing curse themselves! No better way to impress your father than by personally killing his enemies, right?!”

My brows are lifted in disbelief, in complete awe at his ignorance and cruelty. “I’ve known them for years, Harry.” I say softly. “I know them in ways you never will. None of you will. I trust them and I love them. You’re wrong.” I turn to Hermione, “Tell him,” I rush, pleading. Desperate for him to understand. For someone to be on my side. “Tell him how Draco apologized to you! Tell him how Enzo walked you to your dorm after that Ravenclaw was a little too grabby, tell him how the next day that same Ravenclaw was in the hospital wing!”

Hermione glances between Harry and I, uncomfortable and distressed. “Those things only happened because of you. You made them do those things.” Her voice is soft, almost a whisper, as if she didn’t want us to hear, didn’t want to participate in this fight between siblings. She looks at me, eyes soft and shy, but stern. “He’s right, Liv … they’re bad just the same as their parents. They’re dangerous. Being friendly inside of the school walls is one thing …  it’s not going to be the same.” She moves her eyes to look at her hands, hiding from my anger as if in shame of admitting her bias against my friend group. 

I shake my head, looking up so as to restrain the tears that so desperately want to fall. “I’ve never been more disappointed in you .. both of you,” I look to Harry whose face has that smug vindicated look to it. “You don’t know a damn thing. And neither does dad.” I turn, leaving him gaping at me.

I don’t see him rush to reach for his cloak, nor do I notice his unseen presence following me afterwards, lingering distantly enough so as to remain undetected but close enough to not lose me in my fleeing.

I don’t know where I’m going. Anywhere but here. Anywhere that I don’t have to see his face, don’t have to listen to the “Great” Harry Potter spew hate in front of me. He doesn’t know them like I do. He doesn’t know anything. He’s blinded by hatred.

“There you are, beautiful,” a voice wraps around me at the same time a hand grabs my wrist, pulling me in for a hug. “We’ve been looking for you.”

“Well, here I am.” I shrug, falling in step beside him.

His eyes turn to me harshly, “What happened?”

“It’s nothing, Enzo,” I sigh.

“My favorite snake is upset and we haven’t even gotten to school yet. Something happened.”

“You’re sweet to be protective,” I pat the hand still holding on to me, guiding me through the train.

“After everything we’ve been through?” his hand moves to grab at mine. “Always.”

I look into his eyes, steadfast, strong, and loyal. Like all of theirs. A fierceness we all hold connected to each other. “I know,” I soften, “It’s the same thing it always is. The great, ‘open-minded’ Potters. Same thing my dad’s been on and just Harry being, well, Harry.”

Enzo’s face contorts with sympathy. “I’m sorry, dear.” 

We stop at the door to a compartment that I assume holds the rest of our ragtag group. “You ready for the chaos?”

“Always,” I respond, mimicking him, as he slides the door open, using an arm around my shoulder to pull me in alongside him. “Look who I found wandering about all melancholy like!” Enzo announces. I let out a small laugh as I gently slap his arm off of me.

“What’s wrong?” Mattheo asks, eyes flicking to mine with a somber sincerity. I flop ungracefully in the open seat next to Draco, throwing my legs up across the way to rest in Mattheo’s lap. He immediately wraps his fingers around my ankles.

“Just annoying family shit.”

“Been there,” Theo jokes. We all just stare blankly at him. “What?” he defends, “We aren’t making jokes about this mess yet?” He looks at each of us, desperate for just one of us to laugh with him. Draco and I lock eyes and that’s all it takes for the two of us to bust into laughter. The others join in and we all laugh at Theo rather than his poorly timed, crappy joke. 

After the laughter dies down, the mood sobers again as we think on Theo’s words. “How are you guys? Really?” I ask gently.

“We’ll get through it, Bella.” Theo whispers, laughter gone from his eyes.

“Together,” Draco confirms, nodding his head once and gripping my hand on the seat next to him. The others nod in agreement. All but Mattheo. 

“And you, Matty?” I hold his gaze. All of them seem to have lost the light in their eyes over the summer, but him especially. It’s like there's no one home, no fight left. But I know better. I know him better. He feels everything, he feels too much. He’s the strongest and most ruthless fighter of us all. A true warrior.

His grip on my ankles tightens. “We’ll be okay,” he reassures me, but the sentiment dies there, it doesn’t reach the rest of his face. "Stop flirting with her with your stupid accent." He glares sideways at Theo who throws his hands up in surrender.

“Let’s talk about Harry,” he says, eyes hardening. “What did he say to you?”

“Oh you know, that I’m stupid, have to pick my side, tried to ban me from speaking to you lot, called you all bigots who only think of yourselves, and …” I trail off, hesitant to upset Mattheo further.

“And?” Draco prompts, face stiff, contorted with a silent rage.

“And,” I take a steadying breath, “And he said that you’re only pretending to be my friend until the time is right for you to kill me to impress him.” I roll my eyes at his dramatics in an attempt to lighten the mood. “He’s just pissy because his little crush Ginny is bumping uglies with Dean Thomas and here I am with all you pretty boys fawning over me, desperate for my love.”

The trunks overhead thud around, probably in response to the train vibrating over a particular rough patch of track.

Together, we share an unfiltered laugh at the recurring joke. There have been rumors at school that we’re in some kind of reverse Harem and we think it’s bloody hysterical to push the rumors on. Because what other reason would the toughest guys in school have for wanting to be friends with a Potter? Obviously because we’re fucking. 

“She thinks we’re pretty, awwww” Blaise teases while pinching Enzo’s cheek.

“The prettiest,” I compliment with a giggle.

“But one of us is prettier than the rest, right?” Draco teases from my right, knowing of my affections for one Mr. Mattheo Riddle, who I am proud to say I did not glance to when Draco said that. 

“Oh piss off, Draco. You’re horrid!” I shove him into the wall, as he chuckles at my misfortune.

Mattheo hides a small grin, eyes downcast in an attempt to hide his barely visible blush.

I’ve always been his girl, just the same as he’s been mine. Anyone who matters knows it. But it’s never been said, never truly been claimed or acted upon. At first it was just a youthful bashfulness, a fear of rejection and the potential loss of a sincere friendship. But then as the war grew closer and times became more tense, it became an unspoken but uniformly understood agreement that our connection is already a threat and dangerous enough without adding labels and romance to it. But still, our claim to each other lingers in the air around us, a living thing, the same as the oxygen we breathe: unseen but existing nonetheless.

In fact, each of the boys had tried to push Pansy and I away from them at the very start. But we’re family. We’re loyal and headstrong in our support to one another. They are mine and I am theirs. To the very end. Potter, Malfoy, Riddle, Order, Death Eater. None of it matters. We don’t belong to our names, to our parents or their agendas. We belong to each other and that’s it. A third invisible “side” in this war. Perhaps the most dangerous any of us could be in. Outwardly linked to one, but realistically and eternally, truthfully, bonded to each other. To me. Pansy Parkinson. Lorenzo Berkshire. Theodore Nott. Blaise Zabini. Draco Malfoy. Mattheo Riddle. 

My bloodsworn.

A court of snakes and vipers. 

[pairingbrainrot]

If I had a nickel everytime a Nickelodeon pairing from my childhood came back as adults and stabbed me in the heart with all the feels, I'd have 3 nickels, which is not alot but it's weird that it happened three times right?

[alisaint]

i blocked you and cut ties with you because you're an antisemite who admitted to ignoring me as payback as if i wasn't the one that reached out and was literally asking you if you still wanted to be friends and keep in touch. and this was after having already said something however long ago to you before that about talking, which you also ignored (which is why i messaged you to begin with). it had nothing to do with noah schnapp lmao.

i explained what i meant by extremism and i told you i was very clearly talking about tankies and their "there are no bad moves, only bad targets" ideology, of which there was a shit-ton on my dash at the time. i over-explained what i meant and you still made it about him! not me! you made it about him because you needed to manufacture a scenario in which i would have to be the one to break the friendship instead of you because you couldn't just outright say it.

but yk. if saying that i'm a parasocial freak that chose an actor over our friendship is a more palatable reason, then okay. whatever makes you feel better, big man 👍

[inkskinned]

i was raised by a catholic deacon so as a kid - maybe ages 7 to 14 - i would have told you that abortion was only okay in exception cases like rape. i didn't even really understand any of the terms at play here, only how to parrot that there were "few and far between" exceptions, but abortion-as-a-whole was irresponsible and evil. i believed it was a bad form of birth control.

for context's sake - i still had a flip phone. google wasn't really a thing back then. the whole narrative was akin to the apostle's creed: i don't know that i ever thought about what the words meant, only that this was what i was supposed to say when asked. i remember being in 4th grade and having it down pat - abortion is evil, except in cases such as rape. my father wasn't insensitive, after all - he acknowledged there might be medical necessity to end a life.

what changed was that at 14 i learned how hard it is to prove that a rape has happened.

it was a boy, actually. and his piano teacher. and him telling me, crying, that nobody believed him that he didn't want it. and what if she gets pregnant?

this is the mark in a lot of our lives: at some point, someone will confide in you, and then you see exactly how often it happens. how it happens so fucking loudly, and nobody says anything. how often your friends, nervous, will shakily admit that while they love their partner, there are a few times that they didn't really consent, that they didn't really want it. for others, there are nights half-remembered in bars. for others, they married their partner at 15, so now it's "fine", legally. for others, there are yes moments that felt like a no. there were no moments that were never acknowledged. you say no but are told you actually said yes because of what you were wearing or because he is good at swimming and his life would be ruined or because he's a nice guy or -

in the last 8 years, my father has become radicalized. he now believes in "no exceptions".

but the truth is that there was never going to be a true "exception" clause. there was never going to be a grey area. i am not even really sure they believe in the concept of rape. and if they did - how would you ever prove it? in the six weeks you have to state your case - when it takes years in a court of law - the "rape exception" would simply evaporate under the continued pregnancy. you were never going to have a moment where you could privately tell a doctor - it's because of a rape. there was no box you could check. there was no form you could file. it was always going to be assumed consensual until proven malignant. it was always going to be your fault.

they also knew they couldn't actually sell the rest of us on this idea of it's always blessed. they knew in their hearts that every pregnancy should be wanted. they knew going in that plenty of us - even raised catholic, even having had this shoved down our throats - plenty of us still had too many questions about what ifs.

it's just they just didn't want to come off as monsters. they patted our heads and taught us they weren't insensitive. they just had these beliefs. and then they put their hands on our bodies. and said if you don't listen, i'm going to force them.

[navybrat817]

why is Thunderbolts Bucky so 🥵🥵🥵 please eat me up

I agree, nonnie!

Eat You Up

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Summary: Bucky comes home after a mission and wastes no time making up for the time apart.

Word Count: Over 1.7k

Warnings: Established relationship, oral sex (f. receiving), light dirty talk, mention of cockwarming, slight feels (it's me), Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?).

A/N: Sorry, lovelies. I was inspired. Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

“Just landed. Safe and sound. Tough mission, but successful. Missed you. Be home soon.”

You reread the message, your heart rate picking up. Bucky had been away on a mission for a few days and couldn't reach out much. God, you missed him so much. Knowing now that your man would be home soon where he belonged, you let out a breath of relief and smiled.

You rushed to your bedroom and wasted no time getting ready for his arrival. The message was to the point: He was safe and sound, no injuries, and a tough mission meant he’d need some stress relief. Why not let him play with the person he missed most?

Your heart raced when you heard the footsteps outside of the bedroom door, waiting in anticipation in the middle of the bed. In a few moments, you two would reconnect. Being without him in your home for a few days left you longing. You missed his smile. His dry humor. The sight of him reading a book in his favorite chair. You missed all of him.

Bucky slowly pushed the door open, and you lost your breath when he met your gaze. The heat in the room spiked, but you shivered, your body suddenly feeling cold after days without his touch. His massive build took up most of the doorframe and he was still in his black tactical gear, a fingerless glove covering his right hand. Your beautiful soldier looked like he was still on a mission, his shoulders tight and jaw clenched.

And you didn't have a stitch of clothing on, your legs open and ready for him to do whatever he wanted.

His eyes darkened as they scanned your body, his breathing ragged. Whether it was from the mission or the relief of being back with you, the tension thickened in the air. His gaze paused at the juncture between your legs, his breath catching as he took in the sight of you, before he growled, “Look at you. Such a sight to come home to.” Stepping forward, his voice thick with desire, he added, “I could just eat you up.”

The room seemed to shrink as he stepped closer. His eyes never left you as he closed the distance, his gaze filled with adoration and hunger, his presence overwhelming. Everything about him was overwhelming in the best possible way. Your heart raced as he crawled on the bed, but you didn’t flinch. You were ready for him.

“If that's what you need, Sergeant,” you breathed, a teasing challenge in your smile. He exhaled sharply as you slid a hand down your torso, his chest rising and falling faster, as if he was holding himself back from taking you right then and there. “Then you'll get it.”

You could handle whatever he craved... and more. Maybe you'd make him beg for it for once the way you begged so many times before. No. You wouldn't be cruel enough to make him beg. At least not tonight. Not when you both needed it.

“Trying to touch what’s mine?” He grabbed your wrist before your fingers could reach home, your skin warm under his gentle grip. He was one of the most powerful men you knew, someone with enough strength to rip you in half if he wished, but he would never use his strength to hurt you. “You miss me?” The ache in his voice was more than desire. It was longing.

“I won't touch. It’s all yours.” Your chest tightened when he released your wrist, your eyes suddenly burning with unshed tears, your hands itching to feel his body and know for certain he was really there with you. “I always miss you when you're gone.”

You didn't like eating meals alone now since you had come to expect easy and tough conversations as the two of you moved around the kitchen and sat at the table. You enjoyed exploring your surroundings together, but craved nights cuddled up together on the couch as the television played in the background. Building a home with the ex-assassin was a dream come true.

He hovered over you and tilted your chin, giving you a second to take a breath, before he leaned down and claimed your mouth in a feverish kiss. The ferocity made you gasp, your arms wrapping around him to hold him close. Your nipples brushed against his shirt as you deepened the kiss, desperate and needy. The kiss was a promise, expressing everything you wanted to say before the night was over.

That you loved him, that he was all you needed, that your house was a home because he was back with you.

His hair fell in his face as he broke the kiss and moved his gloved hand between your legs. You mewled when he teased your slit, his stare as seductive as his touch. You rolled your hips up, seeking out more friction, wanting him to make good on his promise to eat you up.

“I missed you,” he whispered, gliding down your body with the grace of a large cat. The muscles in his back rippled as his shoulders spread you open for him, your hands gripping the sheets to keep you from grinding against his face. “And I missed this. Your taste. Your smell. Your sounds.”

You whimpered when his nose brushed your clit. “Bucky, please,” you begged, his hands taking hold of your hips and digging in. And here you thought neither of you would beg tonight.

But Bucky Barnes wasn't a heartless man. He showed mercy when he had to, which was why he took pity and licked a stripe up your pussy with a groan. Flames spread along your body as you threw your head back and moved your hands to grip his hair. He ate pussy skillfully, effortlessly, and all you could do was hold on and ride out the waves of ecstasy.

“Good girl. So beautiful. And all mine,” he murmured before he shoved his tongue inside your hole, your eyes rolling back and mouth parting. Your super soldier had his head buried between your legs like he never wanted to leave.

“I… Oh, fuck!” you cried, his gloved hand reaching up to toy with your breast. His fingers teased your nipple, his metal thumb rubbing your clit, and you couldn't stop yourself from pushing your hips closer. You had no shame in humping his face as his tongue moved along your sensitive walls, his beard leaving the most delicious burn with each movement.

And if you smothered your lover with your cunt tonight, he’d proudly saunter up to the gates of whatever heaven you sent him to with a smile.

He pulled his tongue out, his mouth sucking on the swollen bundle of nerves as your thighs trembled. You lifted your head high enough to catch the feral look in his eyes. Pleasure climbed within you so quickly it left you dizzy. “Such a pretty pussy. Should write poems about it.”

“Oh, God,” you moaned, your head falling back again, heat filling your body.

“My name,” he growled, pushing two metal fingers into your wetness and pumping fast, knowing you wouldn't last much longer. You were right on the edge, ready to fall. He’d be there to catch you. “Say my name when you come.”

You didn't say his name as his tongue entered you once more. You shouted it, chanted it like a prayer, and soaked his mouth with your juices. He moaned as you fluttered around his tongue, and he continued to lap at you, trying to drink down every drop. He swept you up in waves of bliss and you were lucky you didn't drown.

Sparks still burst behind your eyes as he sat back to admire his work, making you clench around nothing as he licked his lips. You held out your arms with a whine, needing him close once again as you came back to yourself. He stretched out on top of you and pressed a soft kiss to your lips, your essence lingering on his. Your hands roamed where they could reach and it sent a thrill through you when he moaned.

“Hi,” he whispered after a moment, smiling and making your heart pound all over again.

“Hi,” you sighed, shutting your eyes and smiling, too, when he kissed each eyelid. You were lucky enough to witness this soft side of him, trusted enough for him to be vulnerable.

“You okay?” He kissed your forehead this time.

“Better than okay. You’re home,” you replied, breathing him in before you opened your eyes. Your heart stopped momentarily under his soft gaze. “Are you okay?”

He was the one out there fighting to keep the world safe. Not only that, he still fought the demons of his past from time to time. It wasn't fair, but you were there to help as you could.

“I’m good, doll. I’m home. Everything I need is right here,” he said, rocking his hips. You moaned when you felt how hard he was through his pants. He deserved to feel good. “And we have some lost time to make up for, so no falling asleep on me.”

“Lost time? It was only a few days,” you teased, tucking a strand of hair behind his ear when he huffed.

“A few days too many,” he said, not teasing at all as he leaned up to unbuckle his belt. “Drives me crazy being apart from you.” He would never leave you if he didn't have to.

“I know. I was just teasing. We can make up for every second you were away,” you assured him, knowing he wasn't done with you tonight by a long shot. You were fine with that since you wanted him just as badly as he wanted you. “Bucky?”

He paused before he could push his pants down. “Yeah, doll?”

You traced a heart on his forehead, wanting to erase the pain he endured and replace it with only good things. “I love you.”

He blinked the mist from his eyes and leaned down, pressing his forehead to yours. “I love you, too.”

When you finally fell asleep the following morning with his cock buried deep inside you, he whispered again that he loved you and that he couldn't wait to eat you up all over again once you woke up.

That's two back-to-back Bucky fics in a little over 29 hours from me with him being in love and not afraid to eat you like his last meal. 😂 Are you lovelies sick of me by now? I hope not. Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[rafecameronsslut4ever]

CASUAL pt.2— lando norris (angst)

pairing; fem!reader x lando norris summary: it took lando too long to realise it wasn't just 'casual'. warnings: a LOT of angst, toxic relationship, sexual implication, not proofread a/n: casual part 2 was not really a part of the plan but the audience had demands 🦧also i think this was too long lmao. AND IM SO SORRY FOR THE LONG DELAY OMG

part 1 - casual

miami grand prix: the biggest pr nightmare for every driver—especially lando norris.

the media had been all over him that weekend, going to the lengths of literally calling him 'the hottest catch on the single market'. hollywood stars and instagram models were so desperate to marry him and have his kids that they didn't catch on the fact that he was a 23-year-old racing driver who couldn't give a fuck about them.

because he was stuck on you.

for weeks, he'd waited—hoping you’d reach out, or at the very least, watch his instagram stories. he posted shirtless photos, sun-kissed photos—hell, he even threw out a thirst trap just for you. But you didn’t take the bait. you didn't take the fucking bait.

you hadn't texted him or spoken to him since the moment you walked out of that hotel room weeks ago, so he didn't try to reach out either. "would've been a blow to my ego," he'd told sainz.

but now, he didn't give a shit about his ego. he was tired of waiting.

his eyes darted across the packed club, friends and guests scattered all around. he couldn't wait to get out of there.

he hadn't been drinking. didn't really feel like it. truth be told, he hadn’t been feeling much of anything at all.

pool parties, clubs, yachts, champagne and girls.

he was tired of the glitz and glam of his life, and you were the only escape from it.

but you were gone.

his mind wandered to that morning, when you had kissed him and the two of you had ordered room service. when he had held you for the last time.

he hated how the only thing on his mind was you. how it was the only thing on his mind all through the celebrations, as hookers danced around him and people tried to pour drinks into his mouth.

for fuck's sake, he had won a grand prix for the first time in his life, and yet he was unhappy.

how did he get here?

he looked up, eyes falling on a group of men in the VIP section, the lights illuminating their faces.

everyone could tell something was off with lando. he didn't want to do any of this.

all he wanted was you. you, you, you.

the girl who had left without an explanation.

why had you left, anyway? no calls, no texts. your friends avoided him, and you avoided his friends. it was like the two of you were nothing.

lando norris was many things, but he was not a fool. he could recognise when something was wrong, or when a situation had escalated beyond his control.

he knew that there was a reason why you left, but the reason never clicked in that thick brain of his. what had he done wrong? where had he gone wrong?

"i'm not feeling too well, mate." he muttered, handing the beer bottle back to the guy standing next to him.

okay, maybe not admitting his feelings for you had fucked things up. but, what could you expect? he didn't have the time to give you what you deserved.

not right now, at least.

"what are you waiting for, then?" the other man asked, shoving his hands into his pockets.

"what?"

"just call her, bro. i know it's about a girl because there's no way any sane man would say no to expensive beers and a million hot hookers."

did lando even know this man? probably not.

"i can't call her. she doesn't want to talk to me. trust me, i've tried."

"have you?"

he didn't know how to deal with rejection. not like this, not with you. you weren't supposed to leave.

"judging by your sulkiness, i doubt you're going to find a girl like her again. and you'll never have her if you're here."

lando didn't have a heart of stone, as much as his social media persona might suggest. he didn't care for any of this. the women, the money, the fame.

he wanted to hold you again. kiss you, tell you he loves you. he wanted to hold your hand. he wanted to be near you, and only you.

so, when his feet hit the floor and he found himself walking towards the exit, he wasn't surprised.

yeah, it was foolish of him to leave a party full of women who were celebrating him (literally) for a girl who had ghosted him, but the need was stronger than his pride.

out of the yacht, he was dialling the only number he'd ever memorised. the phone rang, and then it rang again.

would she be wearing his clothes, or would she have gotten rid of everything related to him?

maybe she'd found another man, finally realising that lando was a bad investment.

as the phone rang, you were hidden in your apartment with blankets wrapped around you and a youtube video playing in the background.

it had been months since you'd heard the word 'casual' leave his mouth. months since you had fled london and monaco to move to miami.

at first, his words had echoed in your mind constantly, and you'd cried yourself to sleep a few times more than you'd like to admit.

but just like every heartbroken poet in history, the hurt faded and the pain slowly morphed into hatred. and anger.

you wanted to slam your head against a wall. scratch that, you wanted to slam his head against a wall.

it was so stupid, and you hated yourself for believing he'd been genuine.

it was just sex. that's all it ever was. it truly was just casual.

the phone was still ringing. your finger hesitated over the answer button. you weren't going to answer it.

it wasn't worth it. you didn't want to hear his voice. didn't want him to have the satisfaction of knowing that his words had hurt you. you didn't want to know if he was sleeping around, if his girlfriends were prettier than you.

so the line went dead.

lando stood by the harbour, watching as yachts and ships sailed past him. the air was humid and his t-shirt clung to his body, the heat almost unbearable. the sound of waves, the distant laughter and music, and the sound of his ragged breaths.

he ran his fingers through his hair, looking around. where was his car?

he had to find his way back to his hotel. he was a mess, and his clothes were sticking to his skin. he needed to fix his appearance, buy a bouquet a flowers.

he checked the time on his watch, and cursed as he saw the numbers. it was almost 3 am. he wouldn't find flowers anywhere at 3 am.

"fuck it." he said, running over to his car. the drive was quiet, save for the low hum of music and his occasional swearing when someone drove a little bit slower than he'd like.

lando norris had the world on his fingertips. he could have any girl he wanted. anyone, really. but he only wanted you. he was a hopeless romantic, and you were his muse.

when he pulled up outside the apartment, his nerves were going haywire. he ran a hand through his hair and took a deep breath before getting out of the car.

he knocked twice on the door and when it opened, his eyes lit up.

you stared back at him, sleepiness in your eyes and confusion etched on your face.

and god, did you look gorgeous.

he loved you, he realised. he had to cross his hands behind his back to stop them from reaching out and holding you close.

"lando?" you breathed out.

he had grown a slight stubble since you last saw him. his hair were still the same, except a little bit longer. his blue eyes were wide as he looked at you.

"hey," his voice was shaky.

"what the fuck are you doing here?"

he wanted to say so many things. ask you why you left, where it went wrong, why you moved to miami. he wanted to declare his love for you, press his lips to yours, hold you by the waist. he wanted to hear you say that you loved him too.

he was so in love with you, and you had no idea.

"lando? why are you here?" you asked again.

he was at a loss of words. what could he say? he couldn't exactly just stand there and say nothing.

"because," his voice cracked, "i miss you."

your throat went dry. he could not just say that.

it had been weeks. weeks of him not contacting you, weeks of you not speaking to him. the phone calls had stopped, the text messages had stopped, the late night chats had stopped. everything was just gone.

and now, he missed you?

tears welled up in your eyes, a lump forming in your throat. you shook your head, pushing back the tears, "go away."

"what? no, wait. wait. don't do this." he pleaded, his voice fragile and desperate, like a child trying to avoid bedtime.

"lando-"

he interrupted you, voice louder than before. "can we please talk about this?"

"what is there to talk about?" you were raising your voice. you hated him. how could he act like this after all that happened?

"everything. just—please, can i come in?" he sounded so pathetic. he felt so pathetic. his hands were slightly hovering over the door, ready to push it open and walk in.

the request took you by surprise. "i-no."

you missed him. there was no denying that.

you wanted him to tell you it was okay. wanted to go back to that night in his mclaren, the night he told you he liked you. wanted the weekends spent in london with his family. you wanted him, all of him.

his curly hair wrapped around your fingers, blue eyes staring at you, soft lips kissing you. his cold hands grabbing yours, and his voice saying your name. you wanted it to not be casual.

"i just want to talk to you."

he was drunk. there was no other way he would've showed up here, let alone begged to talk to you. the fact that he needed to be drunk to have this conversation made your blood boil.

"do you still have my jacket?"

of course, you still had his stupid jacket. the one that had his smell embedded into the fabric. it was an exclusive print mclaren had given him, and he had swung it around your shoulders after the night you had first made love to each other.

but he didn't care about the jacket, and neither did you. it was just a reminder.

you were silent for a while, taking in the sight of each other. it was his breath mingling with yours.

"i love you." he whispered.

your breath hitched in your throat, the tears finally falling out of your eyes as you sighed.

"i love you," he repeated to himself. "yes, i do. and i've known that since the day i met you."

you choked back sobs as you shook your head, "you're drunk, lando."

"i'm not," he chuckled, "maybe a little, but not enough."

then, he added, "i mean it. i love you." his voice was steady. he truly meant every word. but he didn't know what would happen now.

"what do you want me to say, lando?"

he sighed, "anything."

you laughed bitterly. anything, he said.

anything would've been better than what had happened.

"i don't think i can do this, lando."

"we can take it slow."

"you've never done slow."

he fell silent again because you were right. he'd never done slow. he didn't know how to take things slow. he was a fucking formula 1 driver, after all. slow wasn't something he did. he'd always lived life like it was the last day. and that's how he had lost you.

"i'm sorry," he began, his voice breaking. "i should've been a better person. i'm sorry for everything i did. i should've given you more, i-i should've loved you more, because you deserve so much more. i'm so, so, sorry."

"lando," you whispered, "it's not—"

"don't make excuses for me, please. i love you, i really do. and if i have to spend the rest of my life proving that, i will." and he meant every word. "i just want you back."

your mind was racing, a million thoughts running through it. it was like a movie. his blue eyes, his voice, the desperation in his tone, the way he stood before you.

"okay," you muttered.

"wait, okay? does that mean—"

"you're gonna have to work for this," you said.

"i know, and i will. i promise."

you sighed, rubbing your temple. this wasn't a good idea. "get in."

lando's face lit up, and before you could change your mind, he had walked into the apartment. he hadn't really been here before, considering you moved here after the two of you had stopped talking. but the apartment was lovely, homely. everything you.

you closed the door behind him, watching him look around the living room.

"how'd you know where i live?"

he chuckled, turning to face you. "i'm a famous driver. i have my sources."

"i'm sure." a tense silence followed, neither of you knowing what to say.

"i'm not letting this happen again," he blurted, "i'm not. i don't know how, but i won't."

"i don't believe you." you scoffed.

"fuck, baby, what do i have to do for you to believe me?" he stepped towards you, closing the distance.

"stop calling me that."

"you are my baby." he tried to joke.

"lando, i'm not joking."

"i'm serious too," his voice was sincere, "i love you, and i'll do whatever it takes for you to believe me."

you had been through a lot together. the highs, the lows. you had seen him at his best, and at his worst. the good and the bad.

he moved closer, reaching a hand out to hold yours. you didn't know why, but the moment his hand touched yours, it was like a switch had flipped inside of you.

you let his hand wander over yours like a ghost, his calloused fingertips tracing over your knuckles. he intertwined your fingers together, eyes casted down.

"i've never cared about anyone the way i care about you." he admitted in a soft voice.

and then he pressed his lips to yours. his other hand wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer to him.

and god, did he taste the same. lando had a way with his lips. it was a talent. he kissed you like he needed your lips to survive. he was desperate for your touch as if he had been starving without it.

you were so lost in the feeling that you hadn't realised how far you had pushed him until the back of his knees hit the couch, and he fell on top of it.

his eyes were wide, mouth hanging open. his shirt was halfway unbuttoned, exposing his chest and toned abs.

the two of you stared at each other, eyes searching the other's.

"i love you." he murmured for what seemed like the hundredth time that night.

maybe it was the way his blue eyes bore into yours, or the way his lips quivered, or maybe it was the fact that he had driven across the city to say this.

but for the first time that night, you believed him. and suddenly, the anger was gone. it was all gone.

"i love you, too." you whispered.

it was the only thing the two of you needed. the confirmation, the reassurance. the love.

you leaned down and connected your lips once more, hand reaching up to his curls and tugging lightly. he moaned into the kiss, pulling you on top of him.

your tongue entered his mouth, the taste of him making you lightheaded. his hands roamed over your body, the feeling of his skin against yours.

"baby," he whispered between kisses, "i want you so bad. i've waited so long."

his lips trailed along your jaw and down your neck, sucking marks into the sensitive skin.

"i want you," he murmured against the crook of your neck, "so fucking bad."

but he pulled away, flipping the two of you over so he was on top of you. he took off his shirt, and rested his head on your chest. he cleared his throat, "i should've asked this question earlier, but are you single?"

"yeah." you chuckled, running a hand through his curls.

"so, can i be your boyfriend?"

"lando norris," you hummed, "did you finally get the guts to ask me out?"

"yes," he smiled, lifting his head up to look at you, "yes, i did. will you be my girlfriend?"

"you're a dork."

"that's not an answer."

"yes," you laughed, "yes, i'll be your girlfriend."

lando grinned, and you grinned back.

yeah, it wasn't casual anymore.

(u guys im so sorry if i've tagged someone who doesnt want to be tagged i just had no idea how to let non-followers know part 2 is out bcs tumblr is not letting me reply to comments😭if anyone wants their tag removed, feel free to dm me!! i hope u liked this) @oscarpiassrri @meglouise00 @f1fantasys @technicallypleasanttree @ggaslyp1 @obxstiles @nataliambc @prudyhoo @idkwtdwml123 @ushygushybaby @emilyroxy @yootvi @fishingarden @pillowprincess4him @herexpertcollector

[rainy-day-gracie]

- wedding night (1) -

A Venus & Mars mini series

pairing: general marcus acacius x virgin!wife!reader

content warning(s); dual pov, arranged marriage, implied age gap but nothing specific, period typical misogyny (Ancient Rome), mentions of violence/warfare, mention (1) of sexual violence (not against reader), mentions of pregnancy, attempted bedding ceremony, reader has hair that can be pinned back, steamy kisses, crazy amounts of sexual tension, discussions of consent because consent is sexy mandatory, virgin!reader, SOFTTTTT marcus acacius, romantic and intimate as hell, grievous historical inaccuracy because it's fucking fanfiction, canon divergent because duh

a/n: this has been living in my head for weeks now, along with every new photo we get of general marcus acacius because of course. this can be read as a prequel to bloodlust, or read entirely on its own. the reader insert is written as the same character in each fic.

this will be part 1 of the wedding night, and part 2 will include smut :)

---

You considered bolting as the sun rose on the morning of your wedding day. Stealing one of the nobleman's horses, putting as many miles as you could between yourself and the General's country house.

But, from what you've heard about the General, there would not be a corner of the earth that he would not find you in.

Your palms were clammy with sweat as the handmaidens pinned your hair back into a style of a bride. You wondered how they couldn't possibly hear the quick, panicky beating of your heart as each moment brought you closer to what you considered a life sentence.

General Marcus Acacius is venerated like a god in Rome, and anywhere else. Men boast about his wartime accomplishments as if they were their own, and ladies whisper about his scarred face like they would a demon within the walls.

So many rumors swirling around the Emperor's most esteemed general.

His hands were permanently stained red with blood, he burns the heads of his enemies in sacrifice to the gods, he kills men with icy calculation, takes women with fiery passion.

You could only imagine what kind of monster was waiting for you at the altar.

---

Marcus was in no good spirits on the day of his wedding, the marriage forced on him almost as much as it was forced on his...

Gods above, his bride.

The idea of having a bride was almost as foreign as you yourself were, since never once had Marcus even considered marrying anyone. With all the bloodshed and near-death experiences, he never exactly considered himself a man that was meant to be a husband. Or a father, for that matter.

Marcus tried not to shudder at the end of the aisle as the chorus began singing, sounding all to close to a death march.

At the sound of the choir, you entered into the wedding hall, for all gods and men to see.

His bride.

The world seemed to be brighter, the flowers bloomed more beautiful, and Marcus' vision turned clearer as you stepped into his sight.

For a moment, he forgot all about the blood of men on his hands. The shame that burdened him was cast off. Maybe he wasn't completely condemned to the Underworld.

The very possibility of you being his bringing him more relief than any wine or fine lady. The possibility of you being in his life was... redeeming. Redefining. Remaking.

One look, and he made a vow, but not to you. To himself.

If any harm were to come to you, he would unleash the fury of the gods upon them. He would protect you to the end of his days. Honor you, and serve you, however you may wish.

---

Fear coated your every nerve as you beheld your soon-to-be husband.

Nothing could have prepared you for just how mighty General Acacius was. Tan, broad, and mighty, dressed in fine white robes similar to yours. His bare hands were strong, made for swinging axes, throwing punches, and taking what he wanted. At the altar, he seemed to be near brooding, speaking his vows quietly, his voice like a roll of thunder.

You managed to keep your voice steady while you spoke your vows, but there was nothing you could do to keep your hands from shaking as the priest brought out the rings.

The general reached for your hand, and you were unable to keep from trembling.

His touch was warm on your skin, his calloused fingers surprisingly gentle as he slid the gold wedding band onto your finger. You found the nerve to meet his brown eyes, finding something utterly unreadable as he held your gaze. Could it be... fondness?

Gods, he was beautiful.

His touch steadied you, though you still exchanged rings with a thundering heart.

"In the sight of Gods and men, you are now Husband and Wife. You may kiss your bride, General."

The priest's words echoed in your head.

Husband and Wife.

The general leaned forward, an unspoken question in his warm eyes.

Swallowing, you gave a near imperceptible nod.

For such a harsh man, such a dominating man, his kiss was utterly... soft. Tender. Almost coaxing.

After a moment, he pulled away first, and you could've sworn he lingered, cherishing the air between you... before turned to the cheering wedding party.

In an instant, he changed, switching from the gentle kiss of a lover to a commanding force, a man that drinks in praise like fine wine.

A mighty man, indeed.

---

Marcus tried his best to not feel too wounded that his new wife was completely terrified of him.

He felt the thundering pulse in your hand as he slid that ring on, and he wondered if you saw the wedding band as a chain, a set of shackles. It's all too true for other women in Rome.

You barely spoke to him during the wedding feast, only giving small nods and forced smiles in between sips of wine. He had a good feeling you were resisting the urge to swallow it down in one gulp.

Marcus couldn’t help but study you— at first innocently, taking in the curve of your lips, the shine of your eyes, the polite smile you gave when someone offered congratulations.

Damn his dirty mind. As the night went on, and the celebrations continued beyond what he would’ve liked, he tried, and failed, not to eye your body as a means of distraction from the rowdy feast.

It started with your neck. He traced the slope of it with his eyes, marking every freckle and curve. He prayed to all the gods that you would want him to leave his marks on you.

Downward, he peeked slightly at your breasts whilst cursing himself. Of course, they appeared perfect beneath your wedding stola, and he wondered what manner of sounds you would make when he took them into his hands, into his mouth.

And then… Gods, those hips—

“Time for the bedding ceremony!” Emperor Geta jeered, pulling you from your seat with a firm jerk of your elbow. His eyes were greedy, scheming. “Let us see what is underneath that—“

Your face flushed with either embarrassment or fear or both. And that was all Marcus needed to see.

“There will be no bedding ceremony.”

Marcus lowered his voice to a deep warning, the kind that has sent men running for their lives.

Geta scoffed, still holding to your elbow. “It’s a wedding, Acacius, it’s your wedding. Don’t you want to show off the prize of your latest conquest? Distribute the winnings? Strip down that—“

Marcus stood, towering several inches over Geta’s slimy face. “I said… there will be no bedding ceremony.”

Geta kept his hands on you, and Marcus’s vision tinged with red hot fury.

His voice was a rumble, a threat in itself. “It’s my wedding, is it not? And I say there will be no bedding ceremony.”

People were watching now, the feast gone silent at this standoff.

Marcus knew how to pick his battles, cut his losses. But when staring down Geta, the most powerful man in the empire, he realized that for you, he would pick every single one if it meant he kept you safe.

The moments that passed were crackling, the tension between the two men sucking all the air from the celebratory hall.

Geta saw something in Marcus’s unyielding gaze, something that told him he would not win this fight, and decided the bedding ceremony wasn’t worth the scrutiny.

As the Emperor walked away, Marcus took your hand, and led you to your marriage bed.

—

You couldn’t find the words.

The general nearly trembled in rage on the walk to the bedchambers, but still, he maintained that odd gentleness, holding your hand as if it were the most delicate thing in the world.

Servants opened the grand doors as you entered, showing a large room with a massive four poster bed and elegant tapestries lining the walls—

Then the doors shut. And you were left alone with the legendary, bloodletting general.

And you still couldn’t find the damn words.

You knew what came next. The husband will take what is now his.

In this case, you expected your husband to take you in the same way he took lands for the empire— violently, mercilessly, with the intention of forging new legacy, through a son of Rome.

“Before you ask, my General, I wish to assure you that I am untouched,” you blurted, quoting what your mother taught you to say before you were to be… intimate. “I am pure, though I can only hope to be worthy—“

“Darling wife,” the general said quietly, so different from the commanding force from the feast. He held your hands in his, leaning down and kissing your knuckles in reverence.

You went silent, shocked at the soft fondness in his tone.

He peered at you with curiosity, and almost amusement. “The only thing I wish from you is for you to call me by my name, not title. No general, no lord, but my name. I hear it so little nowadays that I will look forward to hearing it from your lips.”

“As you wish… Marcus,” you breathed, eyes locked on his.

Marcus let out a little sigh, like he was relieved. “It’s much prettier when you say it.”

You drop your head in bashfulness, more confused by the moment. The way he spoke so kindly, so fondly.

“You know what is meant to happen tonight?” Marcus asked, almost hesitantly. You nod, undeniable fear curling in your stomach. “I need you to understand something, my darling, so listen very carefully.”

He pulled you toward the bed, sitting you both down on the silken sheets. His eyes on yours were discerning, and intent, like he was searching for something within your stare.

“I will never, ever, force myself upon you. Not in this life, or the next, or the next. I know what you might’ve heard about me, and much of it is true, but never would I take a woman without her permission. You belong to yourself, and if you never should like me in your bed, I will honor that to the end of my days."

You blinked at him in confusion. "So, you do not... you do not want me?"

Marcus exhaled sharply, looking down at your intwined hands. "That... that does not matter."

"Why not? A husband has the right to take what is his--"

"No man has any right to take a woman's body for himself, husband or not. What... what do you think is to happen tonight?"

Heat rises to your face, embarrassed at the question. By the look on his face, he was embarrassed, too.

"I don't... I don't know how it works, but some of the other wives at court say that the consummation of marriage is one of the more... painful duties of a wife. What you are meant to do to me... it's painful," you murmured, and quickly begin stammering. "B-but is it a great honor to serve you, my--"

"May I kiss you, darling?"

Some candles had been left burning, illuminating him in a warm glow. Marcus's eyes were soft, a rich, chocolate brown in the light of your bedroom, and something about them made your core flutter like one of the candles.

"Yes... yes, please."

Marcus smiled softly, and moved his hands to the sides of your neck. They were scarred, and calloused... and so warm.

His lips met yours almost hesitantly, like he was holding himself back. They were tender, tasting of sweet wine. Fingers curled lightly into your pinned hair, pulling you closer as his chest pressed against yours.

You moved your mouth with his, suddenly feeling the need for... more. You didn't know what, but you just knew you needed it.

His tongue slipped against yours, and the groan that left his throat left your pussy throbbing.

"Marcus--" you gasped, losing your breath as his lips traveled down to your neck. You could've sworn he moaned in response, sucking at your pulse point, leaving it a delicious shade of red--

"Do you want me to keep going?" He gruffed, trailing light kisses along your throat.

Oh, gods, how you wanted him to. "Yes, but..."

Marcus withdrew instantly at your seemed hesitation, pulling his mouth away but keeping his hands in your hair.

"I'm fearful," you admitted, holding his tunic to keep your hands from shaking with both desire and nerves. "Not of you, but... the rest of it."

Marcus nodded, swallowing. "We could continue kissing, if you like."

You laughed lightly, the nerves mellowing for a moment. "I'm not sure I'm prepared to have you in that way, but I know that I want to. I know that I... I want you."

Marcus's soft eyes shone with fondness, but had a wicked edge to them, like he was plotting something.

"I know I want you as well, darling. I promise, I will make sure you are prepared to have me... perhaps even over-prepared."

Your brows furrowed with confusion. "What do you mean?"

The general smiled. "I'll show you what I mean."

Part 2 here!

[toxicanonymity]

The Spread

PAIR: Thomas Hewitt x f!Reader

WORD COUNT: 3.5k | SERIES | MAIN MASTERLIST

SUMMARY: You hide and don't get slaughtered. Tommy secretly keeps you. He's kinda sweet if you're good.

WARNINGS: I8+ Canon-typical violence (implied) & setting, captivity, dark caretaking, manhandling, sleeper hold, oral f receiving, noncon unsafe piv, finger gagging, dark fluff, tommy has a praise kink, stockholm syndrome vibes. NO human skin mask: leather partial mask shown in photo. He is feral and naive due to his family. No use of Y/N. Divider by gasolinerainbowpuddles.

SIZE KINK - Reader is much smaller than Leatherface, can be carried and maneuvered. He is 6’5”, thicc and STRONG.

You barely escaped the so-called law man, and your friends weren’t so lucky. They got chased right into the lair of a chainsaw-wielding giant.

“C’mon, Tommy,” the Sheriff encouraged the giant, “Just like the slaughterhouse.”

Heavy chains thrashed, and one of your friends groaned.

“Attaboy,” the Sheriff praised.

While they were distracted, you ducked into a nearby woodshed. You didn't dare go far – you had encountered too many hazards on the property to trust your footing, and couldn't risk calling attention. Instead, you sat there in the shed, paralyzed, listening to your friends get butchered. One by one, their squeals turned animalistic until a wet thwack or rev of a motor cut them off.

Finally, there were no more screams.

Huddled in a corner of the woodshed, you tried to keep your wits about you. The shed was about the size of a small dorm room. There were stacks of wood all around–some freshly cut, some rotted–and hay covered the floor.

You were in a tank top and Daisy dukes with cowboy boots that made you feel like an idiot. You had sap on your knees from crawling over the wood. Taking deep breaths did nothing but fill your nose with cedar - it was only a matter of time before you’d meet your fate. You picked splinters out of your hands as you replayed the chase in your mind. You began to feel sure “Tommy” had seen you run into the shed. If that was the case, you didn't know why he let you go. You could only guess he already had his hands full.

“Think we got’em all, son?” The Sheriff asked.

Tommy grunted.

“That’s my boy,” the Sheriff concluded.

-

The door frame would’ve been tall enough for most men, but Tommy had to duck on his way in. He carried an ax. Each step he took shook the entire structure. His breathing was loud, his mouth hanging open below the leather that covered his nose. The partial mask didn't cover his mouth. It was fastened with two straps behind his head nestled in thick, chestnut hair that came down around his shoulders.

Dusk was approaching. Not long after the Sheriff left, heavy footsteps crunched louder and louder toward the woodshed. Your heart pounded harder with each step.

The rickety door busted open with a plume of dust. Tommy’s silhouette consumed almost all the daylight that remained.

He approached you cautiously and paused when he was an arm’s length away. You whimpered, knees held to your chest. He sniffed around like an animal. Then he brushed a stray section of hair out of his eyes, and you saw a glint of uncertainty in his gaze. You tried to compose yourself, wondering if your fear could trigger him.

He knelt down to get a better look at you. He reached for you, and you jumped. He grumbled and held up a massive finger less than an inch from your mouth, telling you to be quiet.

Something possessed you to reach for his hand. He let you move it.

You put his palm on your cheek and watched his chest heave in confusion.

He tilted his head and stayed crouched there for a moment, staring at you with his brown eyes softening above the leather.

“Attaboy,” you whispered, repurposing the Sheriff’s words.

Tommy huffed, then abruptly stood. He left the shed, ax slung over his shoulder. He ducked again on his way out.

He didn't return for a while. You finally dared to open the door just enough to look out, but not for long, startled by an older woman’s voice calling, “Tommy!!! Time for supper.” You shrunk back into your corner, afraid you had been spotted.

You sat there frozen, afraid to run.

-

Sometime later, you heard a squeaky wheel approach the shed. The door opened more quietly than it had the first time. The hulking silhouette was backlit by a buzzing floodlight in the yard. The man seemed to be more careful and quiet this time. He had brought a few blankets. One of them was tattered, pale yellow bordering what used to be white, and it had Care Bears on it. He put the blanket over your body, coming all the way up to your neck, and patted your head. Then he took a bundle of newspaper out from under his arm and handed it to you like an offering. It smelled like barbecue.

As he turned to leave, you whispered, “Tommy.”

He dropped his head and looked back.

“Thank you,” you said.

Looking at the wall, Tommy offered a short nod before leaving. Then he locked the door from the outside.

After he left, you opened the newspaper. It was too dark to see, but the contents felt like a charred bone with bits of flesh hanging to it. You weren't hungry anyway.

You wrapped yourself tight in the blanket, and to your discomfort, your heart fluttered at the man’s softness with you. You replayed the day’s harrowing events in your mind’s eye and saw him differently than you had at first. Maybe he was nothing but an attack dog. You began to doubt he would've hurt your friends at all if not for the older, more wicked man in uniform.

Maybe Tommy was as much of a prisoner as you were. You wondered if he could talk. You felt sure he could listen.

After sunrise, you awoke to some commotion and heard a vehicle drive away. After a period of silence, you tried to open the door to the shed, but it was securely locked.

Soon, Tommy came back and unlocked it. He moved swiftly toward you with purpose in each heavy step, crouching slightly. The mass of his body strained his shirt. You'd never seen forearms like his. He could surely snap you like a twig, but something told you he wouldn't. Still, your heart raced when he lunged toward you. He reached over a wood pile and used both massive hands to force you onto your feet. He wrapped you in the blanket, then put you over his shoulder like a potato sack.

He put you into his wheelbarrow, then nestled some firewood around you. He looked around furtively as he did it. Then he covered you with another blanket and wheeled you across the bumpy ground, onto a smoother surface. He rolled a garage door down behind you and left you covered in the wheelbarrow as he rummaged around the garage.

You peeked out from the blanket and saw him placing shackles on a table. Your heart raced. You glanced behind you. The garage door was still lifted by a small margin. Maybe big enough to fit through.

You watched in terror as he brought out a mallet. Finally, your body unfroze.

You lowered yourself out of the wheelbarrow as carefully and quietly as you could and crawled toward the narrow opening. As you began to wriggle under it, your ass hit the door, making a noise far too loud to go unnoticed.

Within a split second, his massive hands were firm around your ankles, pulling you toward him, dragging you roughly across the concrete.

He manhandled you like a doll. He forced you onto your back and shook you, then wrapped a massive hand around your neck. Your life flashed before your eyes, and you kicked him. He grunted and grabbed you roughly by the shirt, then sat back on his knees. He held you with your back against his enormous thigh. Your Daisy dukes did nothing to protect your ass from the cold concrete. You thrashed, and he put the crook of his elbow around your neck, then everything faded.

When you woke up, you were chained to the table, with cold, metal shackles on your wrists and one ankle. You were bottomless, and the air was cool between your legs. Your feet were bare. All you had left was your tank top, which you wore without a bra.

You didn't dare move. A foul dust in the air made you sneeze, then Tommy came into view. He was wearing a butcher’s apron, and the sleeves of his dingy, button-up shirt were rolled up to expose those big, hairy forearms. He held the mallet. His eyes were industrious.

“Please don't hurt me,” you begged.

He laid a heavy hand on your shin, and you flinched. He gently placed your free ankle in a shackle, then nailed it shut.

“Please,” you begged.

He laid a hand on your thigh and looked you in the eyes.

“What are you going to do to me?” You asked.

He huffed and put the mallet away.

You were relieved until he returned with a meat cleaver. You tensed and squirmed. He laid a hand on your stomach and his searing eyes told you to stay still. He slid the cleaver under your tank top, and you held your breath and looked at the ceiling. Your nipples hardened at the feeling of his knuckles between your breasts.

He violently sliced upward through the fabric, turning your wifebeater into a vest which burst open, freeing your breasts. He inhaled sharply at the sight and discarded the meat cleaver with a metallic clatter on a nearby shelf.

“Please,” you begged again, then he stuck his fingers in your mouth and peered in. His thick digits tasted like charcoal and salt. Three fingers were enough to stuff the orifice completely. When you stopped whining, he abandoned your mouth.

He cupped a breast, then cupped both of them. He hummed a curious “mm,” Then dragged his thumb down your sternum before stepping away to survey your body.

You felt like a cadaver sliced open for examination. As he slowly stalked around the table, it dawned on you that's what he was doing. He was studying you.

He stopped at a long side of the table – your left side. He brought his face–his leather mask–to your skin, just below your ribs. His hair fell onto your body, and the light brush of it tickled. He paused to loosen the strap at the back of his head. Then he dipped his face to your abdomen again. He turned his head and dragged his cheek, and the leather, over your bare stomach, to your breast. You could hear him desperately sniffing and wondered why he didn't take that thing off.

Lips, hair, and smooth leather dragged across your skin as he wiped his face along your chest. Then his face made its way into your armpit, where a dart of his tongue made you flinch and shiver. His tongue darted out again. He sucked the delicate skin slightly into his mouth before releasing it with a soft grunt.

He paused and pulled away. He pivoted to stand behind your head, then brought his hands to your breasts. Helowered his mouth to your neck and licked you. His hair fell on your nose and smelled like smoke and metal.

He seemed to savor the taste of your skin. He licked longer, harder, the strong slippery muscle of his tongue nudging your jugular. You felt a rush of arousal and shame. He tasted the other side of your neck and hummed in satisfaction. The throbbing between your legs made you wince.

He dragged his tongue down over your chest to lap at your breast. He flattened his tongue to lick your nipple, then began to suckle at it. One thing was clear - this was not for your enjoyment. He was entirely absorbed in what he was doing. He didn't even glance at your face. Whether it was for his pleasure or curiosity, you couldn't be sure. He moaned into your nipple and you knew you must have been gushing onto the table.

After a few seconds, he pulled away from your tit and began to sniff the air. He stalked around the table some more and paused at your shackled feet, staring up between your spread legs. He found the source. His hands dwarfed your thighs as he pushed them further apart. Then he dabbed a thick finger, only grazing your folds as he picked up just a taste of you from the table and brought it to his mouth.

“Mm,” he hummed quietly, staring between your legs. He licked his finger again and his eyes searched the air curiously. Then he grabbed your upper thighs and anchored his thumbs on your outer lips, spreading you open. His heavy gut rested on the table between your feet as he leaned forward. As he lowered his mouth to your cunt, you twitched and felt another rush of shame.

His breath was hot on your cunt, then he dipped his tongue, and you tensed.

He lapped at your entrance, and the physical pleasure made you exhale and relax, while your fear remained. He licked and sucked, and your moan echoed before you could try to cut it short. Your chest was hot with embarrassment, but if he heard the sound, he ignored it.

He fed on your juices like a starved animal. He sucked and slurped, and dug his lips and tongue in, searching for more. The squelching and gurgling sounds were obscene between your legs. He closed his eyes and dug his fingers into your hips as he feasted.

The leather mask nudged your clit and made your hips lift into his mouth. He brought a hand to your lower belly to hold you still. Then his tongue plunged into you. You whispered, “good boy,” and your whole body felt weak with shame.

He paused and glanced up, then repeated the action. It was true, some part of you welcomed this, as afraid as you were. In any case, the heat and pressure building in your gut would have to release at some point.

He fucked you with his tongue, nudging your clit with the smooth leather, and you had to remind yourself to breathe. You'd never been eaten so voraciously. He moaned into your cunt and the tension was too much to hold. You whimpered as you began to pulse and twitch. His tongue paused as you clenched around it. Then he continued. Your back arched as he sucked it all out of you, swallowing every drop he could find. As your climax waned, you took slow, deep breaths.

Finally, he slowed down. He looked flustered for a moment, then his hand disappeared from your thigh. He pulled his face away, and the leather mask was soaked and shiny. Then he took his apron off. When he stood to put the apron aside, the protrusion in his pants made your breath hitch and your asshole flutter.

Your cunt spasmed once around nothing, and your insides churned as though making room for a massive guest.

You couldn't peel your eyes away. He adjusted himself, then palmed the bulge. His shirt had come untucked. The bottom button wasn't fastened, and his midsection strained the other buttons as his whole torso heaved. He eyed the mess between your legs as he palmed himself.

He seemed to be considering the possibility of stuffing your cunt with whatever monstrosity hid in his pants. He could take anything he wanted, but he didn't look proud of it. This didn't feel like something he did every day.

You decided not to fight back. You told yourself it was for survival, but you also twitched at the thought of him wrecking you. You looked at his crotch, then down between your legs, still gushing at the sight of him barely contained by his pants. The way his whole body wanted to bust out of his clothes made you weak in the knees. He was so solid and strong. You looked again from his crotch to your own, as though your eyes were instructing where to put it in defiance of your better judgment.

He grumbled as he picked up a hammer and approached you, making your heart nearly stop.

He pried the nails out of the shackles, and you cursed yourself for the way your heart fell. Your disappointment was quickly replaced by relief. A man this size, with these capabilities – he could have done serious damage to your body.

“Thank you,” you whispered. You laid on the table patiently looking at the ceiling as he went down to your feet and unshackled your ankles.

Then he grabbed you by the thighs and yanked you toward the end of the table, making you yelp. Your naked crotch came to rest flush against the bulge in his pants, making you ache with arousal. Your thighs trembled in fear.

You looked down toward him and he forced your chin upward, making you look at the ceiling. You pinched your eyes shut. You were at war with your body’s desire. He might kill you. He might actually split you in two. The dying squeals of your friends echoed in your mind. But his hardness swelled against you, and oh, fuck.

His hips backed up and you twitched at the loss of his warm package against you.

With your eyes still pinched shut, you heard his clothes jostling, then he spread your lips apart while he notched his tip against you. It was too big. He held your thighs again and pulled you toward him with a forward thrust and a grunt.

Being impaled with his cock felt like being split open. The girth burned as it stretched you, and you whimpered as your body tried to accommodate him. He stayed inside, and he sighed. You'd never felt so stuffed. He leaned forward, and the contact with your clit provided some relief as your body spread itself more. But still, your heart raced at the prospect of him moving. You prayed he would be gentle.

When you didn't stop whimpering, he stuck his fat, smokey fingers in your mouth again. He placed his other hand on your chest to hold you still, with the crook of his thumb close to your throat. You gagged on his fingers and he removed them. He wiped your saliva onto your nipple before kneading your breast.

Thankfully, you were wet and getting wetter. He held you down and slammed into you. The fullness pushed your thoughts out of the way along with your guts. You kept your eyes shut as he speared into you again.

His breathing and grunting seemed to echo through the room with every snap of his hips. His unholy girth twitched against your walls. He grabbed onto your hips and brutally pounded you. He used you like a sleeve until his moans were drawn out and his breath became ragged. He pulled you back hard and leaned forward, the weight of him resting on your lower abdomen. Your cunt fluttered in anticipation of his climax, but he paused. Your hips lifted, seeking friction for your front.

He pulsed once, making your chest flutter with pleasure, but then he swiftly slid out. He left you twitching for more as he finished coming outside. His cum painted your folds and inner thigh, and he grumbled and turned around. You lowered your chin to look just in time for him to release onto the wheelbarrow and floor. Then he stood there with his broad back heaving as he looked around.

You closed your eyes again and opened them when you felt fabric on your inner thigh. He was wiping you off with the bottom of his shirt. His face and neck were blotched pink, and he had fixed his pants. He was looking at you, chest still heaving when his ears perked up at the distant sound of tires on gravel.

He quicky put your shorts back on and gathered you off the table, nestling you in the wheelbarrow once more. He swaddled you in the old blanket, now wet with his cum, and opened the garage before quickly wheeling you back to the shed.

He placed you in the corner where you had been, just in time for the truck to park. As he turned to leave the shed, you said “Tommy. Can you bring me some water?”

He hesitated then gave a short nod before locking the shed again behind him.

He came back later with a jar of water and a metal bucket. You were shivering in the corner when he came in. He set the bucket down next to you, then placed his hand on the crown of your head and gently moved his fingers as he looked around. Then he abruptly began to unbutton his shirt. He pulled you up from the corner to put the shirt on you. His chest was hairy and broad, and his entire torso was thick, just massive.

“Good Tommy,” you said as he finished putting the shirt on you.

He paused and left it unbuttoned. His eyes were big. He held you by the sides, looking you up and down in the oversized shirt and Daisy dukes. Then he put you back where you were and locked the shed behind him.

The shirt was filthy, cumstained, and reeked of sweat, but it didn’t smell as bad as it should've. It didn't make you sick like it should've. When he left, you wrapped it tight around yourself, then looked in the bucket. There were apples.

Thank you for reading and engaging! Love you guys 🖤 please consider commenting even if this is old. It helps to know what you liked.

If you want more, good news - I have more thots! Feel free to send yours, too.

[mrsfancyferrari]

Good Luck Kiss

Summary: Lando is a fully independent guy until you are around.

Song: Under The Influence by Chris Brown

Author’s note: I can't write short stories to save my life. I hope you enjoy this long journey which may take a full day to read. Please like, reblog and share this! <3

Word count: 8.6k

MASTERLIST - F1

Once upon a time, in the bustling world of Formula 1, there lived a young and aspiring driver named Lando Norris. Lando was known for his quick reflexes, fearless racing style, and unwavering determination.

However, there was one aspect about Lando that many people didn't know - he was a fully independent guy, except for when he was around a certain someone.

It all started when Lando Norris attended the annual Formula 1 convention.

Amidst the glitz and glamour of the event, he stumbled upon a mysterious stranger. The woman's name was Y/N, and you were equally passionate about motorsports.

The two instantly connected over your shared love for speed and adrenaline.

As they chatted, Lando couldn't help but be drawn to your infectious laughter and genuine enthusiasm. They spent the entire evening together, discussing their favorite races, memorable moments, and even daring each other to try out some racing simulators.

It was a night that neither of them would ever forget, as they had found in each other a kindred spirit and a racing partner like no other.

"Wow! You're good," Lando said, flirting/teasing. "You should come over to the McLaren paddock to check it out," he added with a mischievous grin, knowing that you couldn't resist the chance to get a behind-the-scenes look at the heart of Formula 1.

"You're inviting me to the McLaren paddock? Are you serious?" you asked, a mix of excitement and disbelief evident in your voice.

"I would absolutely love to! That's like a dream come true for any Formula 1 fan," you replied, unable to contain your excitement.

Lando smirked, already getting used to your smile. "Well, get ready for the ride of your life," he said, his eyes gleaming with anticipation. "Because once you step into the McLaren paddock, you'll never want to leave."

Fast forward to the present, you had become Lando's best friend and constant companion both on and off the racetrack. You were there to support him through every victory and to lift him up during the challenging moments.

Together, you formed an unbreakable bond, a dynamic duo that pushed each other to new heights. Whether it was strategizing race tactics, cheering from the pit lane, or simply sharing a laugh after a long day, you were inseparable.

The McLaren paddock had become a second home for you, a place where memories were made, dreams were pursued, and the thrill of Formula 1 was lived to the fullest.

In addition to your close friendship with Lando, you also formed strong connections with the other drivers and their partners. The paddock became a tight-knit community where you shared laughs, stories, and even the occasional friendly competition.

It was a unique bond that extended beyond the racetrack, creating lifelong friendships that would continue to flourish even after the checkered flag fell.

As time went on, Lando found himself spending more and more time with you when they weren't in the paddock, and the press kept catching them together. Speculations about a romantic relationship between the two of you started circulating, fueling rumors and adding an extra layer of excitement to your already thrilling lives.

However, both of you remained tight-lipped about the nature of your relationship, preferring to keep it private and let the speculation run its course.

"Have you heard the latest rumors about Y/N and Lando? They're definitely more than just friends, I can feel it!" one fan excitedly whispered to another in the paddock.

"I don't know, they've always been so secretive about their relationship. But I wouldn't be surprised if they're actually together," replied another, their eyes fixated on you and Lando as you laughed together nearby.

"I heard they're the perfect match, both on and off the track. They bring out the best in each other," chimed in a journalist, discreetly taking notes.

"Well, whatever their relationship status is, they make a formidable team. I've never seen Lando so focused and driven before," commented a fellow driver, watching Lando's improved performance.

"I guess we'll just have to wait and see if they ever confirm it. But until then, I'm rooting for them," concluded a teammate, smiling in support. . . .

"Where's Y/N?" Lando complained, sulking after not seeing his best friend for three hours.

This morning, he was required to film a go kart video for Quadrant for their marketing campaign and it was suggested that you be a part of it, which he had no problem with at all, he wanted you to be there regardless.

"Don't worry mate, I'm sure your girlfriend will be here soon," Max teased, nudging his shoulder against Lando's.

Lando gently shoved him back for his comment, a playful smile on his face. "She's not my girlfriend, Max. Y/N and I are just really close friends," he clarified, emphasizing the word 'friend' to make his point.

Deep down, though, Lando couldn't help but wonder if there could ever be something more between them.

"Yeah, yeah," Max replied, not believing him one bit. "I've seen the way you two look at each other. There's definitely something more going on there, mate."

Before Lando could talk back, footsteps were heard, and you emerged from the crowd of staff.

You emerged from the crowd of staff, donning a sleek black leather jacket that hugged your figure perfectly. Underneath, you wore a vibrant orange crop top that accentuated your curves and matched the colour of the McLaren, paired with high-waisted jeans that showcased your long legs.

Completing the ensemble were a pair of white sneakers that added a touch of casual coolness to your overall look.

As you approached Lando and Max, the mischievous smile on your lips hinted at the adventures that awaited the three of you, fueling Lando's curiosity even further about the potential for something more than just friendship between you.

"Sorry I'm late, boys. Traffic was a nightmare," you said, smiling at Lando, who couldn't help but blush at the sight of you.

"It's okay, we can start now," Lando assured, avoiding your eyes to calm down a bit.

"But when I'm 5 minutes late, I get yelled at," Max muttered beside him and received another shove from Lando.

Lando took a deep breath, trying to collect his thoughts as he prepared to introduce the go-karting video.

With you and Max standing beside him, he couldn't help but feel a surge of nervous excitement. "Alright, everyone, welcome to Quadrant's go-karting extravaganza!" Lando exclaimed, his voice filled with enthusiasm.

"Today, we have two special guests joining us for some adrenaline-pumping action. Please give a warm welcome to the one and only Y/N and the ever-competitive Max!"

The crowd cheered, and Lando glanced at you. A mixture of anticipation and something else he couldn't quite put his finger on coursing through him.

Max playfully nudged Lando's shoulder, adding, "And let me tell you, folks, the competition between Lando and Y/N is about to get intense. I can't wait to see who comes out on top!"

After explaining the rules, the three of them started to change into their racing suits. Max slipped into his familiar Red Bull suit, while you and Lando excitedly put on the McLaren suits.

As Lando muttered, "Let me help you with that," he reached for your helmet, his fingers grazing your cheek as he brushed your hair away.

The intensity in his eyes remained unbroken as he carefully positioned the helmet on your head, his touch lingering for a moment longer than necessary.

"Oh my god! You two better get a room," Max said beside you two, looking more frustrated than the two of you felt about your feelings for each other.

Lando quickly let go of you, a faint blush still lingering on his cheeks, and you said a quick thank you before rushing over to where Max was since it was you vs Max first.

The anticipation and excitement in the air was palpable as you both prepared to show off your go-karting skills.

You both got into your go-karts with the determination to start the video with a great race to capture the viewer's attention.

You gripped the wheel of your go-kart tightly, your heart pounding with anticipation. Lando raised the starter pistol, his eyes focused on the track ahead. "On your marks... get set..." He paused, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Go!"

The sound of the pistol echoed through the air, and you and Max shot off like lightning. The thrill of the race fueled your determination to come out on top.

The wind whipped through your hair as you maneuvered your kart around the bends. The thrill of the race pushing you to your limits. As the laps flew by, the competition between you and Max intensified, fueling the adrenaline coursing through your veins.

With adrenaline coursing through your veins, you pressed down on the accelerator and zoomed ahead, determined to showcase your go-karting skills. Max, however, was not far behind, and the friendly competition between the two of you intensified as you maneuvered through the twists and turns of the track.

Max was hot on your tail, his competitive nature driving him to catch up and surpass you. The cheers from the crowd faded into the background as you focused on the twists and turns of the track, determined to give it your all.

The wind whipped against your face, causing your cheeks to flush with exhilaration. Every twist and turn of the track sent a surge of adrenaline through your veins, heightening your senses and sharpening your focus. The vibrations from the go-kart's engine reverberated through your body, adding to the excitement of the race.

As the race continued, you and Max pushed each other to the limits, maneuvering through the twists and turns with precision and skill. The crowd cheered as you both showcased your go-karting prowess, but Max's determination proved to be unmatched.

In the final lap, he made a daring move, overtaking you with a burst of speed that left you in awe. With a triumphant smile, Max crossed the finish line, claiming victory in the race.

Despite the disappointment of not winning, you couldn't help but admire Max's talent and sportsmanship, knowing that you had given it your all in a thrilling and unforgettable race.

Lando quickly ran over to you as you got out of the go-kart to check for any injuries while you assured him that you were fine.

Despite the loss, you couldn't help but feel a sense of pride for the exhilarating race you had just experienced.

"What about me? I think my legs hurt," Max muttered, acting like he broke his leg.

"That's karma for you," Lando replied, "You should have let Y/N win,"

"Never," Max said with a smirk, "I'm not one to let someone win just out of pity." Lando chuckled and patted Max on the back, "Well, Y/N certainly gave you a run for your money. It was an incredible race to watch."

Max's competitive spirit still brimming, he replied, "Yeah, they did. I'll give them that. But next time, I won't be so merciful."

You chuckle and playfully retort, "Oh, so you're admitting that you were being merciful this time?"

Max rolls his eyes and smirks, "Just you wait, next time I won't hold back and you won't stand a chance."

You and Lando got into your go-karts, the engines roaring to life as you prepared for the race. The smell of burning rubber filled the air, adding to the anticipation of the competition.

"Am I going to get my good luck kiss?" Lando teased beside you, causing a playful smile to spread across your face.

You playfully roll your eyes at Lando's comment and give him a playful shove. "You wish," you respond with a smirk.

Lando pleads, "Come on, just one good luck kiss! It worked last time!"

You laugh and shake your head, "Sorry, Lando, but I don't think a kiss will give you an advantage this time. You'll have to rely on your own skills."

Lando pouted, feeling disappointed that things didn't go his way. Max, who had been growing increasingly disgusted by the playful "flirting" between you and Lando, decided to take matters into his own hands.

Without warning, he fired the starting pistol, catching both you and Lando off guard and initiating the race with a bang. The sudden sound echoed through the air, signaling the beginning of another intense competition.

The race started off with a flurry of speed and adrenaline as you and Lando maneuvered your go-karts through the twists and turns of the track. Both of you showcased impressive skills, overtaking each other and pushing the limits of your vehicles.

As the race progressed, Lando began to gain a slight edge, skillfully navigating the corners and maximizing his speed on the straightaways. You gave it your all, refusing to let Lando take the lead without a fight. But despite your best efforts, Lando's expertise and precision behind the wheel proved to be unmatched.

You could feel the wind from Lando's go-kart as he zoomed past the front of your car, leaving you in his dust. His maneuver was both impressive and frustrating, as you had been neck-and-neck for most of the race.

"Hey, I thought you would take it easy on her?" Max asked Lando after he got out of the go-kart.

Lando chuckled and shrugged, " Since she wouldn't give me what I wanted, I had no choice but to do it."

"You would have won regardless, with or without the kiss," you said, also getting out of the go-kart. "It was a great race, Lando. You really showed your skill out there."

Lando grinned, still catching his breath. "Thanks Y/N."

Since you were tired from all the racing, the two guys decided to do some mini games to pass the time while you rested on a chair. They set up a table tennis table and started a friendly match, their competitive spirits still shining through.

As they played, you watched with amusement, enjoying the lighthearted banter and laughter that filled the air.

Occasionally, they would invite you to join in, but you declined, content to relax and soak in the camaraderie that had developed between the three of you.

After a few rounds of table tennis, they moved on to a game of darts, taking turns aiming for the bullseye with precision and skill. It was a refreshing change of pace from the intense racing, and you found yourself appreciating the moment of respite.

As you laid back on the chair, you started to fall asleep, the sounds of their laughter and the clinking of darts fading into the background. The exhaustion from the race and the adrenaline rush began to take its toll, and before you knew it, you drifted off into a peaceful slumber, feeling grateful for the bonds of friendship that had been formed during this exhilarating competition.

You knew that there would likely be photos or videos taken of you sleeping, but at that moment, you didn't care. The fatigue from the race had overtaken you, and all you wanted was a peaceful nap.

The trust and camaraderie you had built with Lando and Max allowed you to let your guard down, knowing that even if embarrassing moments were captured, they would remain within the circle of friendship.

The intense racing had left you physically and mentally drained, making the peaceful slumber that followed even more satisfying.

The adrenaline rush and the exertion of pushing yourself to the limit had taken a toll on your energy levels, and the nap provided a much-needed opportunity to recharge and recover. . . .

As you slowly opened your eyes, you were greeted by the refreshing sensation of coolness and shade. You thought the sun had shifted and now cast a gentle shadow over the area where you had been napping.

It was a stark contrast to the warmth and brightness that enveloped you before, and you couldn't help but feel grateful for the respite from the scorching heat.

You looked over to see Lando holding an umbrella over you while being on his phone, and couldn't help but feel touched by his thoughtful gesture. Despite being absorbed in his own activities, he had taken the time to shield you from the sun and ensure your comfort.

You couldn't help but admire Lando's striking features. His curly hair, tousled by the wind, framed a face that exuded a combination of youthful energy and maturity beyond his years. His eyes, a vibrant shade of hazel, sparkled with intelligence and a mischievous glint that hinted at his playful nature.

The dimples that appeared when he smiled added an undeniable charm to his already captivating presence. And his infectious laughter, a melodic blend of joy and enthusiasm, never failed to brighten your day.

But it was his kind heart and genuine concern for others that truly set him apart.

His selflessness had been evident in countless small gestures, like now, as he shielded you from the sun without a second thought, demonstrating his unwavering commitment to the happiness and well-being of those around him.

His eyes then flickered up and met your eyes, locking in a moment of connection that sent a jolt of electricity through your body. In that instant, it felt as if time had stopped, and the world around you faded into the background, leaving only the two of you in a bubble of unspoken emotions.

"Well good evening sleepyhead, how long have you been awake?" Lando teased, breaking the enchanting spell between the two of you.

The sound of his voice brought you back to reality, and you couldn't help but blush at being caught in such a vulnerable moment.

"Wait, did you say evening?" you stammered, trying to gather your thoughts.

Lando chuckled softly, his eyes still holding a twinkle of amusement.

"Well, time flies when you're lost in a nap, doesn't it? It's already late afternoon," he replied, a warm smile playing on his lips.

"What about the video?" you asked, sitting in panic that you ruined it because you were asleep.

Lando's smile widened as he reassured you, "Don't worry, we still have time to do the final if you're still up for it. Your nap just added a touch of authenticity to the footage."

You nodded, taking the umbrella off Lando so he could stretch his arm. As he did, you couldn't help but appreciate the way his muscles flexed and the way his sleeves rolled up, revealing his tanned skin.

It was moments like these that made you grateful for the unexpected connections you found in life.

"Finally she has risen from the nap of the century," Max said as soon as he saw the both of you walk into the staff room.

You couldn't help but blush at the teasing remark, but Lando's reassuring presence beside you made you feel at ease.

"We're definitely up for finishing the video today," Lando replied with a confident smile. "We just had a little detour, but we're ready to get back on track."

Lando replied confidently, his eyes glancing at you for confirmation.

You nodded, feeling a surge of excitement and determination to complete the project with the support of your newfound connection.

"I guess I can spend one more hour of my time to beat the both of you in go-karting," Max stated, a mischievous grin spreading across his face.

You couldn't help but exchange a playful glance with Lando, silently accepting the challenge and looking forward to the friendly competition that awaited you.

"Challenge accepted," you replied, a mischievous grin spreading across your face.

The upcoming go-karting race was not just a friendly competition between friends. It was the final showdown between Max and Lando, a battle that would determine once and for all who was the true champion of the track.

As Max and Lando did their slow walk for the video, the tension in the air was palpable. This final race was not just about winning a trophy; it was about pride, honor, and the ultimate bragging rights among friends.

The tension in the air was palpable, and everyone knew that this race would be the ultimate test of skill and determination for both competitors.

As they got into their go-karts, Lando gestured for you to come over.

Curiosity piqued, you approached Lando's go-kart, wondering what he had in store.

He leaned in and whispered, "I'm going to need my good luck kiss if you want me to win this race."

"Well," you whispered back with a mischievous glint in your eye, "if it's good luck you're after, I suppose I have no choice but to oblige. After all, we wouldn't want anything to hinder our chances of beating Max, would we?"

Lando grinned and nodded in agreement, his eyes gleaming with determination. He knew that every advantage counted in this high-stakes race, and he was willing to go to any lengths to secure the victory.

He also just wanted a kiss from you.

You cupped his face and gently placed your lips on his cheek, giving him the good luck kiss he desired.

As your lips touched Lando's cheek, a surge of warmth and determination spread through Lando's body. It was as if the kiss transferred a sense of confidence, fueling him with an electric energy that would propel Lando forward in the race.

As you pulled away, a spark of excitement passed between you, fueling your determination to win the race and prove to Max once and for all that you and Lando were an unstoppable team.

Lando's ears turned a shade of crimson, but his smile only grew brighter. He couldn't help but feel a surge of anticipation and confidence, knowing that he had your support and the added boost of the good luck kiss.

"Thanks Y/N," he said, his voice filled with gratitude and excitement. "With your good luck kiss, I know we're going to dominate this race and show Max who the true champion is."

With determination in his eyes, Lando strapped on his helmet and revved the engine of his go-kart, prepared to give it his all in the race.

Blushing at his words, you playfully tapped Lando on the shoulder before walking over to the starting line with the starting pistol in hand.

The anticipation in the air was palpable as you raised the pistol, ready to signal the start of the race and unleash the fierce competition between Lando and Max.

The good luck kiss not only symbolized your support for Lando, but it also ignited a newfound confidence within him.

Fueled by the warmth and determination that the kiss brought, Lando was ready to give his all in the race, knowing that he had the power of your love and support behind him, making him unstoppable.

The sound of the starting pistol echoed through the air, piercing the silence and signaling the beginning of the race.

Lando's go-kart shot forward, the engine roaring as he accelerated with a fierce determination. Adrenaline coursed through his veins, his focus fixed solely on the track ahead.

With every twist and turn, he pushed himself to the limit, fueled by the knowledge that he had your love and support propelling him forward.

As the race progressed, Lando skillfully maneuvered through the tight corners and overtaking Max with precision. Each lap brought him closer to victory, and his confidence soared with every successful maneuver. His determination never wavered, and he maintained a steady lead throughout the race.

In the final moments, with the finish line in sight, Lando summoned every ounce of his skill and experience. He pushed his go-kart to its limits, leaving his rival trailing behind.

As he crossed the finish line, a triumphant smile spread across his face.

Lando had emerged as the true champion, proving to Max and everyone else that with your support, he was unstoppable.

He immediately made his way to where you were, quickly jumping out of the go-kart and into your arms. The adrenaline was still pumping through his veins as he held you tightly, his heart filled with a mixture of excitement and gratitude.

Breathing heavily, he looked into your eyes with a mixture of exhilaration and gratitude, knowing that it was your good luck kiss and unwavering support that propelled him to victory.

With tears of joy welling in his eyes, he whispered, "Thank you for believing in me. I couldn't have done it without you."

As you took off Lando's helmet, a mischievous smile spread across your face. Playfully, you pressed kisses all over his cheeks, purposely missing his lips. Lando couldn't help but laugh, feeling the warmth of your love and support enveloping him.

In that moment, he knew that your presence and encouragement were the true driving force behind his victory, and he was forever grateful for your unwavering belief in him.

Lando chuckled, his heart still racing from the intense competition.

"If it's good luck kisses that you need to win races, I'll gladly take as many as you want to give," you replied, playfully wiping off the remaining lipstick stains from his face.

Your presence and support had truly become his secret weapon, fueling him with the determination to conquer any race that lay ahead.

Lando couldn't help but blush at your playful gesture, feeling a surge of happiness and gratitude. "I wouldn't say no to more good luck kisses," he replied with a grin, his heart swelling with love for you.

"But can you promise me something?"

"What is it?"

Lando whispered, his voice barely audible. He pointed to his lips, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "If I win a grand prix, you have to give me a victory kiss right here."

Your heart skipped a beat as you looked into his eyes, realizing that his request was both playful and sincere.

With a smile, you nodded and replied, "Deal. I'll be waiting to give you that grand prix victory kiss."

Lando chuckled, his eyes sparkling with excitement. "I can't wait to win these races and claim my well-deserved victory kiss. You better start practicing your cheering skills because I'm going to need all the luck I can get," he teased, his voice filled with determination and anticipation.

"Trust me, I'll be the loudest cheerleader in the stands, I have no doubt that you'll win every race and I'll be right there cheering you on," you replied, your voice filled with unwavering belief and love.

Lost in the moment, the both of you didn't even hear Max do the outro for the video. The chemistry between you was undeniable, and it seemed like everyone around you could see it.

Max, who had been watching your interactions all day, let out an exasperated sigh. "Are you two ever going to get together?" he muttered under his breath, clearly sick of the two of you dancing around your feelings.

It was time to stop playing games and finally admit what had been obvious to everyone else for so long. . . .

And so, the whispers of Lando and your relationship spread throughout the racing community, with everyone eagerly anticipating the day when you would finally become more than just friends. . . .

The anticipation for the Miami Grand Prix reached fever pitch as fans eagerly awaited your relationship with Lando to blossom. The video had ignited a frenzy of excitement, and spectators couldn't help but wonder if the grand prix victory kiss would be the catalyst for your official union.

The anticipation for the Miami Grand Prix was at an all-time high, fueled not only by the excitement of the race but also by the fans' obsession with your relationship with Lando.

Everywhere you went, people asked when you were going to make it official, eagerly waiting for the victory kiss that had been promised.

The pressure was on, but deep down, you both knew that this race would be a turning point in more ways than one.

As Lando delved into intense discussions with the engineers, you took the opportunity to explore the bustling paddock. The atmosphere was electric, with the sounds of engines revving and the smell of burning rubber filling the air.

You wandered from team to team, immersing yourself in the world of Formula 1, gaining a deeper appreciation for the dedication and precision that went into each race.

The atmosphere was electric, with teams frantically making last-minute adjustments to their cars and fans eagerly snapping photos of their favorite drivers.

As you explored, you couldn't help but feel a mix of excitement and nervousness. The Miami Grand Prix was not only a crucial moment for Lando's racing career but also for your relationship.

"Y/N! Long time no see!" you heard from behind you, turning around to see who it was.

Standing before you was Alexandra Saint Mleux, the renowned fashion influencer and close friend of Lando. Her striking features, with piercing blue eyes and perfectly coiffed blonde hair, seemed to radiate confidence.

She was dressed impeccably, donning a tailored white pantsuit that accentuated her slender figure, paired with a bold statement necklace and stiletto heels, exuding an air of sophistication and glamour.

"Alexandra!" you exclaimed, a smile spreading across your face as you embraced your best friend in the paddock.

It had been far too long since you had seen each other, and you couldn't wait to catch up on all the latest news and gossip.

"How have you been?" Alexandra asked, her eyes sparkling with curiosity. You took a moment to gather your thoughts, eager to share the whirlwind of emotions that had consumed your life since the last time you had seen her.

"Oh, Alexandra, where do I even begin?" you replied, a mix of excitement and nervousness in your voice. "So much has happened since we last caught up. Lando, and I... it's all been a rollercoaster of emotions."

Alexandra was captivated by your journey and couldn't help but ask, "So, what's the deal with you and Lando? Are you two finally going to make it official?"

You take a deep breath, trying to find the right words. "Well, Alexandra, it's complicated," you say with a hint of uncertainty.

"Lando and I have been through so much together, and I care about him deeply. But there are still some things we need to figure out before we can make any official decisions."

Alexandra nodded understandingly, sensing the weight of your words. She quickly changed the topic, eager to distract you from the complexity of your relationship with Lando.

With a smile, she began sharing stories about her recent travels with Leo and Charles and the adventures they had together.

As you listened, the worries and uncertainties faded into the background, replaced by laughter and the warmth of friendship. . . .

"Y/N! Miss L/N!" A McLaren staff came out of nowhere, frantically looking for you. You turned towards them, a mix of surprise and curiosity in your eyes, wondering what could be so urgent that they interrupted your long-awaited reunion with Alexandra.

You turned towards the staff member, a sense of urgency creeping into your voice as you asked, "What's wrong? Is everything alright?"

"It's Lando,"

Startled, you turned to Alexandra and said, "I guess our catch-up will have to wait. Duty calls."

Alexandra nodded understandingly, giving you a quick hug before you followed the staff. "Take care, Y/N," she said softly, her voice filled with concern. "I hope everything is alright with Lando."

"I hope so too," you replied, your heart pounding with worry. "I'll find out what's going on and let you know as soon as I can." With that, you hurried after the staff member, praying that whatever had happened to Lando wasn't as serious as it sounded.

As they walked, you asked the staff member, "What happened? Is Lando okay?"

"He won't get in his car," the staff member stated. "He said he needed to see you before he goes."

Your heart sank as you realized that you had let the time slip away. You knew how important it was to be there for Lando before he left, and now you were filled with regret for not keeping your promise. You quickened your pace, hoping that you would be able to reach him in time and make things right.

"Kid, she's not coming," Zac tried to convince him, "You'll see her after the race anyway,"

"But I can't race without seeing her," Lando insisted, his determination unwavering.

"But Lando," Zac pleaded, "this is your chance to prove yourself on the track. You've worked so hard for this opportunity."

Lando shook his head, determination in his eyes. "If she's not coming, then I'm not going," he said firmly, his mind made up.

"Wait, Lando!" you called out, catching up to him just in time. "I'm here, I'm sorry for being late. I couldn't bear the thought of you racing without seeing you first."

Lando's eyes softened as he looked at you. A mix of relief and love filled his expression. "I can't do this without you," he whispered, taking your hand in his.

As you stood there, hand in hand with Lando, you knew that the cameras were capturing this intimate moment between the two of you. But in that moment, you didn't care about the public scrutiny or the potential backlash.

All that mattered was being there for each other, supporting one another through the highs and lows.

The pressure of the race, the expectations, and the regrets of being late all faded away as you stood there, united and ready to face whatever challenges came your way.

"What's the problem?" you asked worriedly, ready to fight anyone for Lando.

"I need my good luck kiss," Lando said desperately, his eyes pleading with you.

"You're telling me that you won't go because you wanted a kiss from me?" you slapped his shoulder gently, your disbelief evident in your voice.

Lando grinned sheepishly, his determination momentarily wavering. "Well, yeah, I guess so," he admitted, his eyes searching yours for any sign of agreement.

Despite the urgency of the situation, you couldn't help but smile at his request. You leaned in and pressed your lips against his cheek, sending a wave of reassurance and love through his body.

"Good luck Lando," you said.

"Thanks, I'll win for you, okay," Lando replied, grinning, running over to his car and driving off at the start of the race.

As you watched him go, a mixture of nerves and excitement filled your heart, knowing that you would be cheering him on every step of the way, no matter what.

"I can't believe that he wasn't going to go without your 'good luck' kiss," you heard Zac say beside you, tired of Lando's behavior.

"I know, it's ridiculous," you replied, shaking your head in disbelief. "But that's just Lando being Lando. He's always had this superstition about needing a good luck kiss before a race. I guess I've just gotten used to it."

"At this point, you two should get together," Zac stated.

You chuckled and glanced at Zac, feeling a blush creep up on your cheeks. "Well, maybe it's about time we make it official," you replied, a hint of excitement in your voice.

Zac grinned and nodded approvingly, knowing that you and Lando were meant to be together.

You smiled at Zac's comment, realizing that there was truth in his words. It was clear that your bond with Lando went beyond superstitions and good luck kisses.

As you watched the race unfold, you couldn't help but think that maybe, just maybe, it was time to take your relationship to the next level. . . .

The Miami Grand Prix was a thrilling and intense race from start to finish. Lando showcased his exceptional driving skills, maneuvering through the challenging turns and maintaining a competitive edge.

He faced tough competition from other skilled drivers, each vying for the top spot. As the laps progressed, Lando's determination remained unwavering, his focus unwavering as he pushed the limits of his car.

Despite the challenges of intense competition and the demanding nature of the race track, Lando remained composed and strategic.

He skillfully navigated through tight turns, battled for position, and made split-second decisions to maintain his competitive edge. It was a true test of his abilities, but Lando's determination and skill shone through, propelling him closer to victory.

The crowd erupted in cheers as he made daring overtakes and showcased his racing prowess.

In the end, Lando emerged victorious, crossing the finish line with a triumphant smile on his face, proving once again that he was a force to be reckoned with in the world of racing.

You were on your feet as soon as he passed the chequered flag, your heart pounding with excitement. The roar of the crowd enveloped you as you joined in the celebration, cheering and clapping for Lando's incredible victory.

The moment was electric, filled with a sense of pride and joy that only intensified as you made your way to the podium to congratulate him on his well-deserved win.

Seeing his triumphant smile up close, you couldn't help but feel an overwhelming sense of pride and joy, knowing that you were there to witness this unforgettable moment in Lando's racing career.

Tears of happiness streamed down your face as you witnessed the culmination of his hard work and dedication, knowing that this victory was not only a testament to his talent

"Let's go, you have a grand prix victory kiss to deliver," Zac said, coming out of nowhere to help you get through the crowd.

People already started to give space as soon as they saw you, having a knowing grin on their faces. It was clear that they recognized you as someone special, someone who was close to the victorious driver.

As you made your way through the crowd, their excitement and anticipation grew, and you could feel their admiration and respect for being part of Lando's inner circle.

The moment you reached where Lando was, the crowd erupted into cheers once again, celebrating not only Lando's victory but also your presence and support throughout his journey.

As you approached Lando, he was still tightly embracing his team, their faces beaming with pride and joy. You waited patiently, soaking in the atmosphere and reflecting on the incredible journey that led to this victorious moment.

The sight of their camaraderie and shared joy warmed your heart, as you knew that their teamwork and support had played a crucial role in Lando's success.

As the team staff pointed at you and yelled, "Aye there's your girlfriend mate!", you couldn't help but blush.

Lando immediately turned around, his eyes falling on you, the biggest grin on his face. He hurriedly made his way towards you, pushing through the crowd, and swept you up in a tight embrace.

"We did it" he whispered, his voice filled with genuine happiness.

"You did it, Lando. It was all you," you said, your voice filled with genuine admiration and pride.

"No, you were my motivation to win," he replied, his eyes flickering from your eyes to your lips.

You rolled your eyes playfully, slowly wrapping your arms around his neck. "Oh please, don't give me that cliché line," you teased, a mischievous smile dancing on your lips. "But I'm glad I could be there to support you. Congratulations, champ."

You pushed his head gently closer, feeling the electricity between you two intensify as your lips inched closer. The anticipation grew with each passing second, and the world seemed to fade away as you both leaned in, your breathing becoming shallow and quick.

Finally, your lips met in a gentle, tender kiss, savoring the moment of victory and shared love. The kiss started soft and sweet, but soon grew more passionate and intense, fueled by the adrenaline and emotions of the triumphant race.

The kiss started softly, a gentle exploration of each other's lips, but soon grew more intense, fueled by the passion and desire that had been building between you for so long.

The once gentle kisses turned into a hungry exchange, as your lips moved together in perfect sync, leaving no doubt about the depth of your love and longing for each other.

As your lips moved together in perfect sync, Lando's hands tightened their grip on your hips, pulling you closer to him.

The intensity of the kiss mirrored the intensity of the emotions coursing through both of you, solidifying the connection that had been growing between you for so long.

Your hands were tangling in his sweaty hair, the sensation only adding to the exhilaration of the moment. The soft strands slipped through your fingers as you deepened the kiss, losing yourself in the taste and feel of him.

Time seemed to stand still as you both surrendered to the passion, knowing that this victory was not just about the race, but about the love that had brought you together.

Reluctantly, you pulled away from the kiss, your heart still racing with desire. "As much as I would love to stay here with you, you have a podium to attend in just a few minutes," you reminded him with a playful smile, trying to catch your breath.

Lando pouted at your response but knew he had to leave. "You know where to meet me right?" he whispered, his eyes filled with longing and anticipation, as he reluctantly pulled away, knowing that the celebration would have to wait until later.

"Of course," you replied, your voice filled with the same longing and anticipation. "I'll meet you at our spot as soon as the podium ceremony is over."

He grinned mischievously, stealing one last kiss before reluctantly tearing himself away from you.

The taste of him lingered on your lips as he hurriedly made his way to the podium, leaving you breathless and longing for the moment when you could meet again at your special spot. . . .

As Lando made his way to the media section to be interviewed for his win, his mind couldn't help but wander back to you. Thoughts of your passionate kiss lingered in his thoughts.

He couldn't wait for the podium ceremony to be over so that he could reunite with you at your spot and continue where you had left off.

However, he then felt something on his lips and he snapped out of it, moving away from it - it was a staff cleaning his lips with a cloth.

"What are you doing?"

"I'm only cleaning the lipstick from your lips," The staff answered, confused of his actions. He always let them clean his face before an interview.

He thought of the lipstick you had on which was now on his lips.

Suddenly, an idea sparked in Lando's mischievous mind. With a playful smirk, he leaned closer to the staff member and whispered, "Leave a little lipstick on, just to remind everyone who truly won today."

The staff member couldn't help but chuckle at Lando's mischievous request. Knowing that Lando was the race's victor and had a certain charm that couldn't be resisted, they nodded and left a hint of lipstick on his lips, complying with his playful demand.

As Lando headed to the media section, he couldn't help but feel a surge of confidence, knowing that he had left his mark not only on the race but also on the hearts of the fans.

As Lando approached the interviewer, he confidently took the microphone in his hand. The male interviewer greeted him with a smile, ready to delve into Lando's victorious race and capture his electrifying energy for the fans.

Interviewer asked politely, "Congratulations on your incredible win, Lando! How does it feel to come out on top today?"

"Thank you! It feels absolutely amazing. The race was intense, but I stayed focused and pushed myself to the limit. The car was performing exceptionally well, and my team did an outstanding job with the strategy." Lando replied with, "It's a fantastic feeling to see all the hard work pay off."

"You certainly had everyone on the edge of their seats! Can you walk us through that nail-biting overtaking maneuver in the final lap?"

"Oh, that was a heart-stopping moment for sure! I saw an opportunity to make a move, and I knew I had to seize it. The adrenaline was pumping, and I went for it." Lando explained.

"The car responded perfectly, and I managed to make the pass stick. It was a risky move, but it paid off, and I couldn't be happier with the outcome."

"I can't help but notice the lipstick stain on your lips," The interviewer commented on.

Lando chuckled, his mischievous charm shining through. "Ah, yes, a little souvenir from the victory celebration," he replied with a wink.

"Just a small reminder of the exhilaration and triumph of this race." The interviewer smiled, intrigued by Lando's playful nature, and continued with the interview.

The interviewer laughed, finding Lando's playful nature endearing. "Well, it certainly adds a unique touch to your victory," they replied. "Now, let's talk about the reaction from your fans. Social media is buzzing with excitement over your win. How does it feel to have such a dedicated and passionate fanbase supporting you?"

Lando's smile widened as he replied, "I am incredibly grateful for my fans. Their support means the world to me. It's humbling to know that my performance on the track resonates with so many people. I couldn't ask for better support."

"As you were about to pass the chequered flag, who or what were yout thinking of?"

"As I approached the chequered flag, my mind was filled with a mix of emotions and thoughts. Of course, my family and friends were on my mind, but Y/N was definitely the one who occupied my thoughts the most throughout the race. Her support and encouragement gave me that extra push to go for the win." Lando answered with a smile, his voice filled with affection and gratitude.

"Was your motivation to get your victory kiss?"

"Isn't it obvious?" Lando said, pointing at his face with a grin. "That victory kiss from Y/N was definitely a motivating factor. Knowing that I had her waiting at the finish line made me push even harder."

"Well, I'll let you go celebrate your win," the interviewer said, acknowledging Lando's eagerness to savor his victory. "But before you go, one last question: what does this win mean for you and your racing career?"

"This win means everything to me and my racing career. It's a validation of all the hard work, dedication, and sacrifices that I've made to get to this point. It's a stepping stone towards achieving my ultimate goals and solidifying my place in the racing world."

As the camera stopped recording and the microphone was taken from him, the interviewer thanked Lando for his time and congratulated him once again on his impressive victory.

Lando ran over to the podium, a mixture of exhilaration and exhaustion coursing through his veins. As he reached for the trophy, a surge of pride washed over him.

This trophy symbolized not only his victory, but also the culmination of years of hard work, determination, and perseverance.

Lando held the trophy high above his head, basking in the cheers and applause from the crowd, knowing that this moment would forever be etched in his memory as one of his proudest achievements. . . .

As you sat in Lando's driver's room, waiting for him to finish with his interviews, you couldn't help but feel a sense of awe and admiration for his incredible achievement.

The way he spoke about you during the interview filled your heart with warmth, knowing that you were his biggest source of motivation and inspiration.

You couldn't wait to congratulate him in person and celebrate this momentous win together.

As you sat in Lando's driver's room, waiting for him to finish with his interviews, you couldn't help but remember the passionate kiss you shared before he had to leave for the race. Your finger grazed over your lips, still tingling from the lingering sensation.

Your hands were tangling in his sweaty hair, the sensation only adding to the exhilaration of the moment. The soft strands slipped through your fingers as you deepened the kiss, losing yourself in the taste and feel of him.

Your thoughts of the moment of the kiss were interrupted by the door opening and you quickly pulled your hand away from your lips, hoping no one had seen the intimate gesture.

It revealed a beaming Lando with the trophy in his hands. His eyes met yours, and a wide grin spread across his face as he rushed towards you, engulfing you in a tight embrace.

His head was buried into your neck, and you could feel his rapid heartbeat against your chest. The scent of victory and adrenaline filled the air as you held each other tightly, savoring the moment of triumph.

The world around you faded away, and in that embrace, you knew that you were not only celebrating his win, but also the deep bond and love that you shared.

"Can we continue what we stopped before?" Lando asked, his voice low and husky against your neck. You felt a shiver run down your spine as his words stirred up the same desire that had ignited between you earlier.

With a mischievous smile, you whispered back, "I think we can definitely make some time for that, especially after this incredible victory."

The anticipation in Lando's eyes mirrored your own as you both shared a knowing look, ready to relish in the passionate moments that awaited you.

Lando's hands were curling around your waist, his touch sending a jolt of electricity through your body. The warmth of his embrace enveloped you, and you couldn't help but melt into his strong arms.

In that moment, all you wanted was to lose yourself in his touch and continue where you left off, savoring every delicious second of the passion that awaited you both.

Your lips molded together in a perfect harmony, the softness of his contrasting with the passion in his kiss. The taste of him lingered on your tongue, a mixture of mint and desire.

As your fingers entwined in his hair, you reveled in the sensation of the sweat-soaked strands slipping through your grasp, adding to the intoxicating thrill of the moment. The world around you ceased to exist as you deepened the kiss, losing yourself in the electric connection that pulsed between you.

The pressure of his lips against yours sent a shiver down your spine, igniting a fire within you that could only be quenched by his touch. Your hearts beat in sync, the rhythm of desire pounding through your chests.

Time seemed to stand still as you surrendered to the taste, the feel, and the sheer intoxication of his kiss.

Every nerve ending in your body came alive, as if electrified by the raw passion that flowed between you.

Lando pulled back slightly, a playful glint in his eyes. "Oh, trust me, baby," he said with a sly grin, "We're just getting started. I have plenty more in store for you tonight."

His teasing words sent a surge of anticipation through you, and you couldn't help but giggle in response.

"Is that so?" you countered, your voice dripping with flirtation. "Well, I can't wait to see what you have in mind. But first, let's celebrate this victory properly."

The air crackled with excitement as you both leaned in for another passionate kiss, ready to explore the depths of desire together. . . .

[riki-dazed]

"Goodnight, my Riki."

NSFW smut · soft titty sucking >.< requested · wc: 933

Your boyfriend had you worried for weeks on end, he was under so much pressure back at his company, working long nights in which you could tell were beginning to take a toll on him. He'd brush you off, telling you that he was okay, and not to worry about him every time you began to question him.

Though, this night was different.

A cup of hot tea in one hand, and a book in the other, you strolled into the bedroom to find Riki sat on the edge of the bed the both of you shared. His shoulders were slumped, face hidden behind his large hands as he rubbed at his features. The soft hum of the city below you was all that was heard in the silent room. Your gaze softened as you set your items aside, concern etched your face.

You stepped in between his thighs, your hands settled on either sides of his shoulders, "What's going on, love?"

The look on Riki's face in which had met your gaze caused an ache to swirl within your chest, that was the first time you had seen him so down. His eyes were weary, lifeless even.

"I'm just so tired." His voice was barely above a whisper, a faint crack had found its way into it, also. You knew he wasn't just merely speaking of that specific evening, but of the multiple weeks worth of pressure that had finally caught up to him.

Your gentle hands found their way into his hair as you smoothed over the soft strands, you pulled his face into your tummy, allowing him to rest against your warmth for a few moments. "I know, love, I know..."

His hands trailed up your legs, resting atop the back of your thighs.

"I don't like you seeing me like this," Riki's words were muffled as he spoke into your nightdress, it had sounded like he was holding back tears. "I'm sorry for bringing the mood down."

"You have nothing to be sorry for. You work hard, you're allowed to feel this way," you cooed, caressing your boyfriend. "Let me help you feel better, okay?"

He lifted his head off you, a look filled with gratitude had soon met your eyes. He gave you a gentle nod.

You swiftly moved to sit against the headboard, your legs stretched out. You ushered Riki to move to you, and so he did. You pulled his large figure to gently lie against your own. He rested his head on your chest, feeling the warmth and softness of your skin beneath his cheek.

Without another word, you began to trace your fingertips through the strands of his hair, your touch was soothing, and tender. Riki let out a sigh, the tension in his body had slowly began to melt away. As he laid there, listening to the steady rhythm of your heartbeat, he felt a sense of peace he hadn't felt in many weeks.

"Y/n," Riki murmured quietly, "Can we stay like this for a while?"

Your fingers continued their gentle caress, "You can stay as long as you need to, my love."

Riki shifted within his spot ever so slightly, his lips brushing against the lace of your nightdress as he brought a hand up to your chest. His fingers pulled at the material, revealing your breast closest to his face. His hand moved to cup the soft skin, in which had caused you to hold him tighter. Your heart ached with love, and the desire to ease his pain away.

Riki's eyes fluttered shut as he brought his lips to your nipple, his tongue escaping between his lips to lick at the sensitive nub. He soon began to suck at it gently, the intimate act brought the tired boy a sense of calm, and security. You continued to stroke his hair, your other hand traced smooth patterns against his upper back. He hummed in contempt, losing himself within the feeling.

"It's okay, Riki. I'm here. Just relax."

The world outside faded away as he focused on the feeling of you holding him. You couldn't help but let a few sighs of contempt escape your lips, too. The feeling of having your boyfriend's tongue play with you like that felt heavenly.

The stress, and anxiety in which had plagued his innocent self seemed to dissipate within the moment, it was replaced by a profound sense of comfort. Riki felt safe within your grasp.

Although he felt a sense of vulnerability, he also was incredibly grateful. In your arms, he didn't have to be strong or composed; he could simply be himself, raw, and open.

As he continued sucking at your nipple, his hand began to explore the contour of your other mound. His touch over the lace was light, unhurried. You responded to his palm pressing against you with a quiet sigh, your body had completely relaxed into his grasp at that point.

Although the moment shared between the both of you was incredibly explicit, and intimate, him kneading at your breast like that had caused worries, and stresses of your own to melt away with his touch. The two of you were just so good for one another, physically, and mentally.

After what had felt like half an hour of having Riki fondle you gently, his breathing became more even. Your whispered words of reassurance had finally coaxed him towards a calming sleep.

The steady rise and fall of his chest as he drifted off into a calm slumber brought an appreciative, sleepy smile to your face.

"Goodnight, my Riki."

...

Copyright © 2024 riki-dazed. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED | Do NOT edit, copy, translate or repost any of my work without permission.

[emptywires]

OOHHHHH!! TO END THIS POST WITH THE FIRST SENTENCE OF "JACKET"!! THATS SO COOL!!

THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR THESE PAST TEN YEARS!! PLEASE CONTINUE YOUR YAPPING TO YOUR HEARTS CONTENT!!

HAPPY TEN YEARS TO THIS BLOG AND JACKET

if you've been here as long as this blog's existence then, know i'm finna yap:

sorry but warning for me and my mental health and my journey here...

smiles i am only human after all <:3 without further ado—

i've put off this post for... many reasons (hoildays, stress, perfectionism, anxiety) but maybe i'll keep this rendition and not chicken out or delete it because it's not perfect?

i really still can't believe i missed the anniversary for this! nov 29th huh? (yes i can actually !!! at the time i had just started a new job and that's where all my willpower has been.) but i fondly remember those ten years ago, that nov 29th is just as close to december anyway. so i always lead myself to think it's dec and not nov! details !!!

i don't think it'd make a difference but i do so want to get this in before the new year... (adding unnecessary stressors to myself smh)

it's been quite a ride through addhell. it's weird... to think how much has happened here. it's insane to think about how this one white hair anime boy changed my live in ways i could never fathom

picture it with me, a no one in a group of friends. with nothing but... the ambition of friendship, and the love of writing to fuel him, and a new username ready to take on the world: mymastermine.

that group of friends holds three: me, my would be DIE, and my would be LP. (does... does anyone remember those days of us three causing chaos laughs - tho mostly two, i suppose) we would make our way into the fandom, make tons of things, meet some people, make things with those people and make friends, lose some people, and grow, grow, grow...

there's just been... so much in ten years. ten years guys !!! that's a lot !!! i was a proud senpai and kouhai all at once! i'd found a really cool sensei. i ran into artists who drew things for me and i wrote for them!

i watched the rise AND fall of void els (raise your hand if you're an oger), in real time watched vMM became a cultural phenomenon (you're lying to yourself if you dont think he was - ykb did something irreversible to the add fandom that day i fear 😂 he's still relevant to this day lmFAO thank ykb for ur service), i watched the top LP/bottom LP debates :/, i'd poked my head into the els tag to see yall fighting but then i'd see some cool things too! i've seen so many cool projects and zines -- hell, got to actually take part in one! (cringe as it was - our writing, not the zine but still proud of doing that !!!)

addcest/hellsword (tumblr) isn't what it use to be though. (hell tumblr itself isn't what it use to be, let's be real LMAO) but... i think that i love that hasn't stopped some of us for cherishing and/or still loving add to this day.

i think if you'd told past me i'd be doing this, writing for one (1) singular anime boy, i wouldn't be surprised - couldn't expect it to go any other way i think

i'm not sure how to feel that ten years later i am still writing for him - it's been quite obvious where i felt it wane (but that was more my life and mental health (was in quite few depressive episodes - still am lmao), and joy - or lack thereof at the times - of writing and placing my joy momentarily elsewhere) but... wow i'm still here? LMAO

but i've met so many amazing people because of him... i've made connections, some not quite lasting, but then... there's always someone else there isn't there?

(i met dez and rain-kouhai for the first time recently! i've met more people for add hell between now and maybe 2-3 years ago! can you imagine that??? people still interacting, still wanting to talk about add - i literally can't! i go on twitter kr/jp and go "wow new add fanart" and feel so lucky !!!)

it's just little joys like this that makes me appreciate such things

i guess what i'm trying to say... thank you add for all the connections i've had and made.

thank you to my original trio

thank you to addhell tumblr... ! (literally would have never known some of yall)

thank you to void els (for gay add marriage lmao but also some more cool friends and mutuals)

thanks discord for hosting gay add ramblings and ao3 for letting me put my gay shit there

thank you - to anyone and everyone who has ever read my work and supported me - friends, mutuals, strangers, anons - and to anyone who's drawn/wrote for or with me! (yes, i think about your comments, your kind words, your support! yes your comment, you!) 😭😭😭 it is the simple act of creating and sharing/encouraging that seriously drives me forward in every word i type... and this alone feels like it's not enough!

but mostly, thank you add, for everything, really

where da hell would this bnuuy be without you?

i was going to... add a more emotional spiel but i think this is good enough, don't nya'll think? :')

"i'm so glad you're still here even after all these past ten years"

you know what? i think i might just be too

thanks for the one whole decade everyone wahoo !!!

-

"they shared a bed together." - jacket, nov 29th 2014

[hoffmansgirl]

MILLION DOLLAR MAN. ━ father charlie mayhew ⁺ 𓂋 𓈒 ✿ ⋆˚⊹

∙ a/n. took ages but it's based on this thought of mine & a lana del rey song (loosely) ♡ this shit is really kinky & not for everyone, PLEASE READ THE WARNINGS! i'm sorry...

∙ warnings. PURE FILTH. i mean it. corpses, death, all that grotesquerie stuff... slight masochism!? charlie and reader are equally mentally ill... really. blood kink, blasphemy, charlie refers to himself as "god", praise, oral (f&m receiving), multiple sex positions, multiple orgasms, knife play, whipping, crying, blood once again. ∙ wc. 3534

❝ 𝕿hat's... beautiful", you smiled, staring at Charlie's work; twelve corpses ━ homeless people, to be exact ━ positioned to resemble The Last Supper.

You couldn't help but smirk at the sight; the man Charlie put in the middle was positioned in a way that represented Jesus. You knew him; he had asked you for money many times, claiming he was hungry ━ you had suspected he spent every penny on meth, though.

You believed Charlie wholeheartedly when he claimed that all he did was for greater good. You weren't scared nor worried ━ if anything, you admired him and his dedication to everything he believed in. You watched him stand in the middle of the abandoned Church, admiring his own work; the image making your heart beat faster. He was covered in blood of his victims, and you should feel ashamed for the heat pooling low in your stomach ━ but you didn't.

Your careful steps echoed in the air as you walked over to Charlie, and he was quick to wrap his arms around you, his chest pressing against your back, covering your little dress with blood in the process.

A rush of adrenaline filled your chest as you hummed, Charlie's touch gentle and soft ━ as you looked at the blasphemous image in front of you, you wondered how'd he get that way. He never talked about his past; saying that all he needed was now, in front of him, clear as day.

"Look at our masterpiece, Angel", his low voice cut through the air like a knife ━ and in the moment you realised that maybe he was worth cutting yourself for.

"Our? I barely did anything", you chuckled, his presence behind you comforting; he was so big, muscular, making you feel safe; how ironic, you thought, looking at the image in front of you.

Charlie's crimson hand lingered on your neck, before he grabbed your chin, making you turn your head towards him.

"You're here, with me", he whispered, his words meaningful, familiar spark in his eyes; the very one that made you fall in love with him. Charlie's thumb rubbed against your lower lip, smearing the blood all over it, adoration overcoming his features as he looked at you. "And it's enough".

You turned to face him fully, taking his thumb into your mouth slowly; Charlie's eyes darkened and he swallowed hard, pressing it down on your tongue. You swirled your tongue around his digit, lapping at the blood, the taste making your head spin. You held onto his forearm, and he pulled you closer, grabbing a fistful of your hair, his sick need matching your own.

Before you knew it, you were pressed flush against the wall with Charlie's lips on yours ━ tongues meeting in a chaotic dance, rolling over each other messily.

"I'd follow you anywhere", you breathed out when he moved down to nib at your neck. He let out a low groan, the sound vibrating against your throat in the most delicious way. "Anywhere".

"The Lord is my light and my salvation; whom shall I fear?", you chanted, your knees cushioned by the padded kneeler. Charlie hummed softly; your words filled the air like the most beautiful song.

A mix of incense and Charlie's strong cologne reached your nostrils, somewhat comforting and calming as you felt his presence behind you.

"Beautiful", he muttered, almost as if he was speaking to himself. Your heart fluttered at the praise as you shifted, the sheer dress you wore rising up your thighs with the movement. "Go on".

"The Lord is the stronghold of my life; of whom shall I be afraid?", your eyes opened, lashes fluttering at the sight of Charlie; he towered over your kneeling form, looking down at you with a hint of awe and adoration in his features. You eyed his chest, covered only by a see-through, white gown ━ he looked like an angel, which, in your eyes, he was.

"And who is your Lord?", Charlie's hand was now in your hair, forcing you to meet his hard, demanding gaze. You meant it when you answered: "You. It's you, Charlie. You're the only God I want to worship".

He expected these words to leave your mouth, but he could never tire of hearing them. You spoke with such confidence, not a trace of regret or fear in your voice, and his his cock twitched at the sight; you were so obedient, so good to him.

Charlie offered you a hand, which you gladly accepted, getting up from the kneeler. Your legs shook slightly as he pulled you close, one of his hands on your face, the other grabbing your hip. His thumb brushed against your cheek, the gesture gentle and loving, his eyes scanning over your face.

"You've been so good for me", he whispered, and you leaned into his touch, pressing your body even closer to his; it simply was never enough. "I love you".

His lips pressed against yours, deliberately and slowly, as if you had all the time in the world. His smell lingered in the air, wrapping around you like a warm blanket. Charlie bit your bottom lip, drawing blood in process, lapping at the crimson liquid greedily, careful not to miss a drop. You whined, and Charlie was quick to lift you up in his arms, walking over to the altar.

You tried to deepen the kiss, but Charlie had other plans, dropping you on a wooden chair; the very one he sat in during masses and preaches.

"Greed is a sin", he whispered in a serious tone, brushing his lips against yours for the last time, before he fell to his knees before you. "Patience, my Angel".

You watched with wide eyes and heaving chest as Charlie spread your legs as wide as he could, lifting your dress ━ he gazed up at you, caressing the soft skin of your thighs with his big hands. You shivered when he tugged at the waistband of your lacy thong, and your hips rose up immediately, allowing him to pull it down your legs.

The cold air hitting your ━ now exposed ━ pussy made you gasp, as you clutched the edges of the chair tightly. Charlie chuckled darkly, watching the way your little hole clenched in anticipation.

He wrapped his arms around your thighs, pressing soft kisses around your pussy, giving you a sneak peek of what was about to come.

"You're mine to worship", he bit back a moan at the taste of your soft skin, and he didn't even get to the best part yet. "Mine to love", he met your gaze, and you nodded mindlessly, getting lost in his dark irises. "Mine to fuck".

As soon as the words left his mouth, he licked a deliberate stripe from your opening to your clit. Your head fell back, the rush of sitting on the specific chair while having his mouth on you made you feel so powerful. Charlie's tongue moved with purpose, circling around your clit slowly, before sucking it into his mouth. Your breaths came out in shallow gasps, the occasional groans leaving his mouth vibrating against your core, causing you to shake in his grasp.

"Charlie, fuck", you moaned, tugging at his hair, knowing how much he liked it. His eyes fluttered shut as he teased your entrance with the very tip of his tongue, lapping at the arousal that continued to drip out of you. "God, I'm━ I'm sorry, I'm gonna cum", you cried out; the endless flicks of his tongue, the groans leaving his mouth, the sight of his beautiful face between your legs ━ it became too much, fire pooled in your lower abdomen, ready to explode any second now.

Your loud cry echoed across the empty church as you came, and Charlie's eyes snapped open to watch as your face twisted in pleasure, a mixture of curses and shallow gasps leaving your mouth, and he swore he could cum from the sight alone.

He lapped at your pussy, eager to taste every single drop you had to offer. You twitched in overstimulation, slowly coming down from your high, sighing in relief when Charlie moved to kiss your inner thighs lovingly.

Not even five minutes later, you were already in Charlie's room, bloody clothes laying all over the floor; the memory of your latest crime, how you stood by his side the whole time ━ it made Charlie even needier.

You run your hands over his biceps at which desperate groan left his mouth ━ then he was quick to take the butt-less leather chaps and gown off his body before pushing you onto the bed.

Sick smile appeared on Charlie's mouth as he grabbed the metal-covered whip, along with a knife from his drawer; a rush of adrenaline run down your spine at the sight.

You took a second to admire his well-trained body as his back faced you, his muscles clenching as he moved around the room to get everything he needed. You were already breathless, and when he started moving towards you, his gaze predatory and dangerous, you were shaking. Not an ounce of fear in your body as he placed the items on the bedside table, his cock bobbing in the air as he walked; your mouth watered at the sight and his size that never failed to amaze you.

"Get on the floor". The harshness of his voice was enough for you to obey, sinking down on your knees right in front of him. "Worship your man. Let's see if you can handle me", he teased, knowing that in fact, you could, even if you struggled and choked. He challenged you, but you just smiled, knowing that the tables would turn soon enough.

"You know I can, Father", his cock twitched at the nickname ━ before he could respond, you were already grabbing his thighs, face to face with his giant cock, pressing a soft kiss on the tip. He hummed, satisfied, running a hand through your hair, tugging at it, forcing you to open your mouth a little wider. You smirked up at him before obeying, taking his tip into your mouth, swirling your tongue and pressing it against the underside. You hollowed your cheeks, beginning to bob your head, taking more and more of him in the process, getting used to his size slowly but surely.

"Fuck, you have the dirtiest little mouth", Charlie groaned, watching you, beginning to thrust into your mouth as he grew needier. You struggled as he hit the back of your throat, your eyes falling open to look at him. His head fell back, chest heaving with uneven breaths, and you pulled away, a string of saliva connecting you to him, still. You quickly replaced your mouth with your hands, wrapping them around his shaft, jerking him off. Your tongue darted out to lap at his balls, massive and full of cum, and a satisfied moan left your mouth; you loved pleasuring him almost as much as he loved seeing you on your knees for him.

Shameless groan left Charlie's mouth, your small hands around him and your mouth on his balls driving him crazy. "I need to feel you. Now".

Your eyes fell open and you moved to take him in your mouth again, causing Charlie to hiss, taking a mental note to punish you for disobeying him later. Yet he couldn't pull away, not now ━ not when your mouth felt so good, so warm and welcoming. He thrusted his hips lazily, and you stopped your movements, letting him take the lead.

"You fucking love it, don't you? You love choking on my dick. You love letting me use your mouth however I please", he panted, feeling himself getting close, the obscene sounds leaving your mouth only spurring him on further. You tried to nod, which was nearly impossible with the speed in which he was fucking your throat.

"I'm gonna cum. Fuck, swallow it, swallow it all", he hissed, head falling back; your nails digged into his thighs, soft moan leaving your occupied mouth, and that seemed to be his last straw.

His cock twitched, and spurts of his hot cum finally painted your tongue and the back of your throat.

He pulled off your mouth with a swift movement, and you swallowed every single drop, the taste making you whimper, as you tried to catch your breath.

"Good fucking girl. Show me", he grabbed your chin, pressing his thumb against your lower lip; you obeyed, chest heaving with uneven breaths and throat sore, as you sticked your tongue out. His eyes darkened, a satisfied hum leaving his mouth, before he forced you to stand up, only to practically throw you on the bed like a doll.

Charlie grabbed the knife from a nightstand; your eyes widened and your legs closed, a spark of excitement running down your spine.

Charlie spread your legs, kneeling in between them; knife forgotten for just a second as he tugged at your dress, determined to get it off your body. It was thrown on the floor in an instant, and he was already lining himself up with your entrance.

You moaned in unison when his tip stretched you out ━ smug smile adorning his face at the visible impatience building within you.

"You're so tight", he rasped, pressing your thigh against the mattress. You cried out when he buried himself inside of you fully in one, swift movement. Your walls struggled to adjust to his size, and you tried to catch your breath. "So warm. My God. You really are an Angel, aren't you?", Charlie muttered, grabbing the knife while beginning to thrust into you ━ and your pussy clenched at the sight.

Then he pressed the flat side of the knife against your skin; the coldness on your burning skin made you gasp. The feeling of Charlie's thick cock fucking into you over and over again, combined with the thrill of being completely at his mercy making you gush.

"You have no idea how badly I want to cut my name into your skin", he groaned, pressing the blade into your skin lightly. You gripped at the sheets and your head fell back. The sound of your skin slamming together filled the room, along with your cries, and Charlie's loud breathing.

"Do it", you begged, and Charlie's hand wrapped around your throat, cutting your airflow in an instant.

You should be scared; he was the one having all the control, and, most importantly, he held the knife against your skin. Yet, in your sick mind, there was no room for fear ━ not when he slammed into you as if his life depended on it, mumbling incoherent praises right above you.

The truth was, you had all the power over him; he sacrificed everything for you, only for you.

So when the blade pressed into the skin on your chest, cutting through it, some blood flowing out of the wound ━ all you did was moan, feeling your orgasm taking over you slowly ━ and Charlie's hand left your throat, letting you take a deep breath.

"I'm going to cum", you cried out, the sharp sting of where he cut a big C into your skin leaving you whimpering.

Your blood covered his chest and stomach as he leaned down to press his forehead against yours, running the flat side of his knife over your cheek. The pain combined with pleasure of his restless thrusts sent you spiralling, and your back arched into the air as you soaked his cock.

"Good fucking girl. Come on, give me everything you got", he talked you through the waves of pleasure, sick smile on his face as he watched you cry from overstimulation. You took a second to calm down, enjoying the way he was balls deep inside you, pressing wet kisses down your neck. His hips grinded against yours involuntarily when he reached the bloody C carved out on your chest; he greedily licked at the wound, groaning at the taste.

You whimpered, letting him clean you of your own blood, before you gained enough strength to push him back against the bed, sinking down on his cock.

Charlie's eyes widened ━ he was partially surprised at your sudden dominance; he wouldn't let you do it often; but this time, it just felt right.

You lifted yourself enough to reach the whip from the nightstand. Charlie understood; he understood immediately, sitting up, as you sink down on his thick cock yet again. Some more blood flowed down your body, and he was unable to look away, his eyes almost pleading.

"How many?", you asked casually, although your voice was strangled, your cunt spasming around him in anticipation.

But there was no answer from him. So, smiling wildly, you swinged and whipped his back; the metal cutting through his skin.

Charlie cried out, his fingers digging into the soft skin of your hips. The pain left him trembling, and you were quick to press a soft kiss against his lips. Charlie responded immediately, whimpering into your mouth, his hips snapping upward to meet yours.

"I asked you a question", you whispered, tugging on his hair.

"I... Five. Angel━ J-Just move", he pleaded, and you smiled sweetly; the contrast between the delicious roll of your hips and the whip cutting through his skin yet again made him lightheaded, and he only imagined how much blood flowed from the wounds.

"You're doing so good for me", you praised, beginning to ride him in an inhuman speed, switching between grinding your hips down and bouncing on his big cock. The stretch made you moan, and Charlie was unable to speak, feeling as if he could cum any second now.

Third whip and he was begging you to stop, yet you knew that's not what he wanted. His eyes pleading and wide, and before he knew it, he was cumming inside of you, biting on your shoulder, a desperate cry leaving his mouth.

"Good boy", and you bounced faster, trying to distract him from the pain as you lashed him for the fourth time. "Doin' so good for me. You need to take this. It's your penance". And he was nodding, knowing you were right ━ and he was ready to take any kind of punishment if it meant he could be with you.

After the fifth and last whip, Charlie fell back on the bed, his chest heaving with uneven breaths. He was paralysed ━ more from the pleasure and overstimulation than pain. You let the whip fall on the floor, giving him a minute to breathe.

But Charlie was needy ━ no, he was desperate to feel you trembling under him. A squeal left your mouth when he lifted you off him, pressing your upper half flush against the bed. You arched your back, dizzy from pleasure and need ━ your hips grinding into the air in search of his cock again.

Charlie plunged into you again with one, swift movement, feeling as if he could cum again just at the feeling of your tight cunt squeezing him deliciously.

You were a whimpering mess when he started thrusting into you in an inhuman speed ━ and you were almost convinced that you could feel his cock in your throat from how deep he was.

"Say my name", he demanded, tugging on your hair, yanking your head back to rest against his chest. The change of angle caused you to gasp, and you did exactly what he asked: screamed his name, the sound echoing through the room and corridor. "You're taking me so good", he stilled for a moment, letting you buck back into him, enjoying the way your ass bounced with every movement.

Charlie, unable to control himself, spanked your ass, obsessed with the way your skin got red, the crimson handprints contrasting with your pale skin.

He let you fuck yourself on his cock, a creamy ring appearing at the base ━ his cum leaking out of your used hole with every sway of your hips. You clenched, holding onto his thighs for balance, and Charlie let go of your hair only to tilt your head towards him.

Your clouded eyes met his, and Charlie smiled lovingly, pressing his lips against yours ━ sweetly and gently.

"Cum for me, Angel", he whispered as you grinded your hips down, almost passing out from the intense pleasure. Your skin felt hot, legs ready to give out any second now.

Charlie sensed it immediately, and he helped you by thrusting up into you, meeting you halfway, a satisfied moan leaving both of you.

It wasn't long until he came inside of you, filling you to the brim for the second time. His orgasm triggered your own. Charlie caressed your sides until you stopped shaking, whispering soft praises into your ear.

A few minutes later you were cleaning Charlie's back, muttering occasional "sorry" when he hissed in pain.

"I'm taking you on a trip tomorrow", he said softly, his eyes fluttering shut at the feeling of your delicate hands taking care of his back. You nodded, not pressing any further.

As long as you were with him, nothing else mattered.

hoffmansgirl © 2024

ꗃ ⋆ ࣪ . nicholas chavez masterlist 𖥔 ࣪ ᥫ᭡ | request here ♡

[xinganhao]

🥊 older brother!soonyoung vs. boyfriend!jihoon.

@choco-scoups -> "what do we think about brother's best friend jihoon, but your brother is soonyoung"

ⓘ cussing, good-natured sibling bickering, suggestive joke. headcanons under the cut.

🥊 jihoon's notes on surviving the kwon siblings .ᐟ

The Kwon siblings are sulky as hell. Jihoon had thought that Soonyoung was the king of brooding, but then he met you. If he weren't dating you, he might even be impressed. As it is, though, he can only focus on managing the two of you's moods. Sure, Jihoon is a little biased. He thinks you're cute when you get all pouty; it makes him want to pinch your cheeks and hold you until that frown is gone from your face. When it's Soonyoung, though, he's a lot more exasperated. "You're a grown man, Soon. Get over it," he might grouse— right before turning to a sullen you and asking if you want a kiss.

The Kwon siblings bicker. A lot. Jihoon doesn't have any brothers or sisters of his own, so he spent quite a bit of time worrying if the two of you were normal. He quickly learned that most siblings tend to butt heads, though you and Soonyoung tended to be a little more... over the top than the average pair. One too many times, Jihoon has been caught in between the two of you's screaming matches. His three-step plan to coming out unscathed is to 1) not take sides, 2) only step in if/when physical altercation occurs, and 3) try not to insult either of you. Even if he is inclined to believe that you're right, more often than not.

The Kwon siblings can be clingy. Before he was your boyfriend, Jihoon was Soonyoung's best friend. And so Jihoon had grown used to Soonyoung's insistences for meals out, Soonyoung's need to be responded to lest he thinks it's the end of the world. When it turned out that you were more or less similar, Jihoon could only shake his head and sigh to himself. He should have known what he was getting into. Really, Jihoon has the patience of a saint in balancing your overthinking and Soonyoung's peskiness. It's a whole love language, and Jihoon is fluent.

Soonyoung loves you. It's not something he says often. Call it the tendency of brothers to brush off emotion or downplay their own sentiments. But Soonyoung loves you in a ride-or-die kind of way, in an if-anything-happens-to-you-I-don't-know-what-I'd-do kind of way. Jihoon knows this. He knows it well. When you and Jihoon had started dating, Soonyoung had been fully supportive. He made a couple of 'jabs' here and there— "If you break their heart, I'll never forgive you!"— but Jihoon knew from the look in his best friend's eye, the set in Soonyoung's jaw, that it wasn't that much of a joke. Jihoon knows that Soonyoung trusting him with you is no small thing. He makes sure not to take it for granted.

You love Jihoon. You love Soonyoung. You would never— not in a million lifetimes— choose Jihoon over Soonyoung. Even though you've threatened bodily harm on Soonyoung more times than can be counted; even though Jihoon is everything that you could want and more. Blood runs thicker than water. Jihoon knows that, too. That's why he never makes you choose. He's content to share the spot of 'favorite person' with your brother, the same way that there's no one else in the world that he trusts more than you two.

+ When the three of you are able to get it together long enough to go somewhere without gauging each other's eyes out, it's those moments that Jihoon secretly adores the most. He sometimes falls quiet, letting you and Kwon fill the conversation at the table, and he thinks of the time you forced him to watch that one Disney movie. Looks like the princess was right; Jihoon is spoken for. Everyone he's ever loved is here, within these walls, at this table, and he couldn't be more happy about it.

✉︎ jayyy! i know you said i could "keep this for a while," but when the req features two people on my bias line.. well! (ᗒᗨᗕ)

› scroll through all my work ദ്ദി ˉ͈̀꒳ˉ͈́ )✧ ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ my masterlist | @xinganhao