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bookshelf-dust · 3 months

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baby love, my baby love

gif by @corrodedcherry

eddie munson x fem!reader

word count: 1,880

warnings: swearing, reader had a not so good day, some hair washing, reader is nude in a non-sexual way, casual intimacy, lots of lovey-dovey things

a/n: hello! i am still very tentatively getting back into writing, but i wanted to write something sweet and comforting and soft and all those things. and eddie is the best provider of all that. this is so cute i almost made myself nauseous. lemme know what you think!! happy reading!!! <333 lots of love

————

“Where’s my girl at?”

Eddie’s voice rings throughout your small apartment, echoing slightly due to it not being fully furnished. His tone is almost giddy, words taking on a little twang after having spent the day working with Wayne.

You bury your face deeper into your pillow, fighting a smile at the way he speaks to you. From your place on the bed, you hear his keys smack the wall as he hangs them up, hear his boots thudding across the kitchen tiles as he makes his way to you.

When Eddie appears in the doorway to your shared bedroom, his arms are raised, fingers working to quickly tie his hair up in a knot. His biceps flex with the movement, drawing your eye to his pale skin. A brilliant smile spreads across his face upon seeing you.

“Hey, bug,” he says.

You flush. You never thought you’d allow someone to call you love bug, let alone any variation of it. You certainly didn’t think you’d like it. It’s who’s saying it that’s converted you.

You’re laying on your stomach, hands crushed under your cheek. You try to smile back at him, but it comes out much less enthusiastic than normal. It’s a very tired gesture.

Eddie notices, kicking off his shoes and crouching before you. “What’s the matter sweet girl? You’re wearing your outside clothes still, and you look pretty pitiful.”

At least he’s honest.

You blink and let your eyes flutter shut. “Long day. Headache. Upset.”

He brings his hand to your face, brushing his fingers over your temples. “Oh, I’m sorry, bug. I know you just wanna feel all better. Is that it?”

You nod, eyes still closed. He starts to laugh playfully just because of how pitiful you really do look, at how small and scrunched up you’ve made yourself. When he kisses your cheek, you feel his smile against your skin. It makes you beam, despite how you feel. The tingle Eddie’s lips leave behind makes it seem like the first time no matter how long it's been. You’re all soft for him, and there’s no denying it. But hell, he’s the same way.

“How about…” he trails off, rubbing the tips of his fingers up and down your spine, tickling your lower back where your sweater has ridden up. “How about I take care of you? Run you a bath, for starters? I know you like that.”

Your eyes open, happy to think about how nice it would feel to sink your tired body into a hot basin full of bubbles. “Okay, Teddy.”

“Yeah? C’mere then,” Eddie says gently, holding his hands out to encourage you to sit up. You slowly push yourself away from the mattress, and he easily pulls you to stand. “I’ll get the water warmed up for you.”

You give him a poor little salute, making him laugh, and then stick your fingers through his belt loop so you don’t have to do as much on the short walk to the bathroom. When you get there, Eddie bends to cut the water on and push the drain plug down. You wrap your arms around his waist and fold yourself against his warm back. You close your eyes once again, hearing him squirt a hefty amount of bubble bath into the tub. You’ll be lucky if he doesn’t flood the bathroom.

The plastic top clicks shut and Eddie rises, grabbing hold of your hands and spinning around in your grip.

“Don’t like seein’ you all drained, baby,” he says. Eddie’s hands cradle your face, long and pale fingers beginning to rub at your temples. It feels so nice to have that pressure be pushed away, to feel his body so close to yours. At this rate, you’ll forget you even had a headache.

“Wanna tell me about it?” Eddie asks. “Or do you just want to have a chill night?”

You open your eyes and push up on your toes to kiss his nose. “The latter,” you say.

He chuckles, knowing you never used that term until you started reading Jane Austen.

“M’kay, bug. That works for me.” His eyes twinkle mischievously. “You want a kiss? I think you deserve a good one.”

That gets you to practically melt. I fucking love this woman, Eddie thinks. He feels breathless each time you look at him that way. You look at him like he hung the stars, like he is your knight in shining armor. He kisses you in that way that thanks you for making him feel so loved. So cherished.

You thread your hands in Eddie’s hair, fingers pulling at the chunk at the nape of his neck where it’s most sensitive. His mouth is warm against yours. He smiles at your playfulness, breaking away to kiss both cheeks.

He bends and drags a finger through the water. “It’ll be plenty warm enough in a second, bug.”

You give him a tired thank you squeeze as he presses a kiss to your jaw.

“Need help undressing?” he inquires, a wolfish grin spreading across his face.

You gently backhand his stomach, watching as he feigns severe injury. “Perv,” you joke.

Eddie sits down on the toilet seat lid so that he can be prepared to turn the water off when he deems the tub full enough for you. Really he’d just like to see you surrounded by a huge pile of bubbles for his own amusement, but also because he knows it’ll be the thing to coax that pure, joyous laugh out of you. The sound he’d bottle and keep on his nightstand if he could.

You remove the little bit of makeup you’d been wearing with a cotton pad, sighing in relief to have it all off. You take out your earrings and slip off your rings, setting them in an ashtray on the counter you’ve been repurposing ever since Eddie decided to cut back on his smoking.

You take off each of your socks, one hand gripping the countertop for balance. As you slip your belt off, Eddie finishes preparing your bath and turns to face you. He holds his arms out, ready to collect your dirty clothes and accessories so that he can put them in their rightful places.

He takes your belt from you only to be cheeky, snapping the thick leather as loud as he can manage. He makes himself laugh.

You turn to the side when you unbutton your jeans, flushing and shy at his attention even after all this time. Even knowing how beautiful he finds your body. How much he loves how soft you are. After all, your body allows you to live. It allows you to spend time with him, and that is all he’ll ever ask for. It doesn’t matter to him what state your body is in because it is yours. And you are his.

Eddie smiles watching you shimmy out of your snug jeans. You hand him your pants and t-shirt, now only in your bra and underwear. You don’t give yourself the time to be self-conscious, longing for the hot bath water. You turn and quickly unclasp your bra. Eddie playfully flicks your bum. It always deserves appreciation in his eyes.

When you hand him the last of your items, he presses the sweetest kiss to your tummy, thumbs rubbing at the indentations left on your chest from your bras underwire, as if he can make them go away just by sheer will.

“I love you, bug,” Eddie says, looking up at you with those watery doe eyes. His kisses your stomach again.

“I love you same, Teddy. Now let me take my bath. It’s rather chilly in this house, don’t you think? I refuse to freeze.”

Eddie laughs to himself as he walks off, taking your clothes to the hamper and storing your bra and belt elsewhere. He never could’ve imagined a world where preparing a bath for his partner would make him as happy as it does.

————

Eddie is kneeling on the bathroom floor. Your back is pressed against the side of the tub, and he’s washing your hair. Well, really he’s already given it the scrub and cleanse that it needed, now he’s just trying to make weird shapes out of it.

After you’d sat in the warm water until your toes pruned without actually bathing, he jokingly offered to do your hair while you washed your body.

You hadn’t even thought about it. You were enjoying the way the bubbles came up to your chin, the way you were completely encapsulated in the safety of them. The way Eddie sat there on the rug, telling you about his day. About the different things he’d fixed on which cars—nothing you understood in any fashion, but something you always wanted to hear about.

“You could make good money doing this, you know. You’re very talented,” you quip, scrubbing your calf with a washcloth.

Eddie snorts, kissing your wet shoulder blade. “What? Give head massages?”

You ring out your rag, having completed your washing ritual and made sure everything got the attention it deserves.

“Mhm. That felt so good.”

You pull the drain plug up, letting the water out. Eddie stands and acts as though his back is going to give out on him. You quickly turn the shower on, just so you can make sure you got all the conditioner out of your hair and feel completely clean. Eddie has never done this rinsing routine after a bath, but loves to see you do your little happy dance when you’re all clean and wrapped up in a towel.

He holds out a hand as you step over the rim of the tub, bowing for added effect. “How was your bath, m’lady?”

You lead the way out of the bathroom, on a search for pajamas. “I’d say it was the best bath I’ve ever had the pleasure of taking, good sir.”

You hug your fuzzy towel to your chest, pushing up on your tiptoes to kiss Eddie’s full lips. He blushes at the eye contact you’re giving him. He knows how it makes you nervous, but getting to have all of your attention like that makes him tingly.

“Thank you for helping me, Teddy.”

“Anything for you, sweetheart.”

You turn to the side, gripping a round, wooden handle and pulling open your top dresser drawer. Eddie kisses your cheek. Sometimes you think Eddie’s kisses are lifesaving. They’ve surely contributed to your stability. They’re healing. And so is the way he cares for the people he loves. The way he so effortlessly does things just because he only wants to see you happy.

Eddie ends up picking out your pajamas while you pick out his. You’re in your own bottoms, but one of his Iron Maiden t-shirts. You told him you should match, so he pointed you in the direction of another, and you made sure to choose pants for him that had red in them, just like yours.

Before you can sit down on your shared bed, Eddie takes your hand and leans down to whisper in your ear. His chin brushes your jaw, lips parting in a bright grin before the words ever leave his mouth.

“Now, what do you think about going to get milkshakes?”

————

please let me know if you liked this! feedback is always appreciated!! comments and reblogs mean more than you know. <33

note: none of the gifs or images i use are mine! i get most of my images from pinterest or here, and gifs from about the same. please let me know if i ever don’t credit someone properly!

#savannah’s fics #eddie munson #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson comfort #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson oneshot #eddie munson x reader fluff

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krkiiz · 5 months

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take a chance with me . luke castellan x reader

you decide to confront luke about your current situationship with him.

luke castellan x f!reader , reader is the daughter of Athena , crack , misunderstandings , “what are we” , “i thought we’re already dating” , fluff with slight angst , overthinking , kisses , them being sappy , nicknames

note : can’t stop falling in love with this evil betrayer smh. inspired by niki’s song “take a chance with me” ! (IM SORRY IF THIS IS CRINGE this is my first time writing kiss scenes help 😭😭😭😭)

let me know your thoughts ! likes, reblogs, and comments appreciated <3

“It’s getting dark. Let me walk you back to your cabin, yeah?” The dark haired boy smiled at you.

Gods how you loved that smile of his.

It’s a tradition of yours. Him walking you back to your cabin after your outings. The two of you walk hand in hand as your near the Athena cabin.

You and Luke had been acquainted for quite some time. You both first met when you arrived in camp for the first time.

You were fifteen back then. Time passed by as fast Zeus’ lightning strikes as summers blurred after summers. In a blink of an eye, you guys were both eighteen now. Adults, no longer those carefree teenagers that relied on your counselors.

During those three years of friendship, you and Luke only got closer. It was hard to admit, and after an excruciating time of denial (and constant pestering from your half siblings including Annabeth), you finally surrendered and admitted the growing feelings you harbored for your close friend.

You’re too afraid to confess your feelings as you treasured your friendship with him deeply. You would gush about how sweet he is to Annabeth, rolling yourself on your bed as blood rushed to your cheeks at the thought of him.

Little did you know he was doing the exact same thing. Confiding to Annabeth about your recent encounters, eyes lit up rivaling the shine of Apollo himself as he thinks of you.

Poor girl. Annabeth was sick of it.

But this summer, you felt a shift in your dynamic with the curly haired boy. He would eat lunch with you more often, asking you to go on more hangouts, challenged you on more duels, battles. It felt different, closer.

You were not complaining, matter of fact you were quite glad. Maybe your feelings wasn’t just one sided after all.

But as time move forwards, the closer you two get, more couple-ey interaction commends. He would tuck your hand behind your ear as you both converse, intwining your hands when your in the same path, calling you nicknames.

The more your relationship with him progressed, the more it blurred the line between friends and more. At this point, you knew he had feelings for you as well, and he too was well aware of yours.

A bubble of thought soon started clouding your mind. What were you both now? Friends? Close friends? Lovers? You don’t remember Luke asking you to be his girlfriend.

What was the nature this relationship?

You feel his grip on yours loosening as you stopped near the grey building of Cabin 6. “This is it for you, princess.”

Words rolled of his tongue like honey and you felt like a honeybee, drawn to its sweetness.

Friends don’t call each other nicknames.

Luke placed a gentle hand on your cheek, drawing closer has he placed his lips on your temple, as if he was kissing your thoughts away. “What’s got you thinking so hard since we started walking, hm?”

Your cheeks lit up like campfire at his action, he smiled noticing your flushed state.

Cute

You look up to the curly haired boy, his fingers still pressed on your cheek. What are we, Luke?

What if Luke suddenly doesn’t want you anymore because of that question?

Were you too selfish by wanting more?

Was this not enough for you?

No it wasn’t. You want to draw a clear like between friends and more, and Luke and you were shoveling a deep hole in the middle of said line.

What if he fears commitment and disappears?

“Oh no, it’s nothing Luke.” You shook your head away from his grasp, pushing all your thoughts away. “It’s late, I should probably get in.”

But before you can turn away from him, Luke was quick to grab your hand, not letting you go any further. “No, Yn. Something is clearly bothering you. And I don’t want you to go to bed with an unpleasant feeling.”

He squeezed your held hands. “Please, Yn. Is it something I’ve done?”

You were quick to deny him. “It’s not, Luke. I don’t even know it’s just. I don’t know, confusing? I think complicated is the right word.”

The dark haired boy brought your intertwined hands to his lips, kissing your forearm softly. “It’s okay take your time, darling. I’m listening.”

You sighed seeing him caress your hand gently as he brushed his lips on the skin. “It’s about us, Luke.”

Dark hues make contact with your own. “What about us?”

“What are we Luke? I don’t even know anymore.” You retracted your hand from his grasp, frustration getting a hold on you. “Friends don’t hold hands while they walk, friends don’t kiss each other’s foreheads, or hands, or even call each other nicknames.”

You look up to see the confusion written clearly on his face. “What are we, Luke Castellan?” You asked once more.

There was a moment of silent and you dreaded it. Each passing second you can hear the rustling wind, chirps of birds, and the sound of your heart falling into your stomach.

Before he finally broke it. A wholehearted chuckle graced his lips, creasing his eyes.

You scrunched your eyebrows at his reaction. Clearly displeased. Were you some joke to him?

“Luke, this is serious, why are you laughing right now?”

He quickly straightened his composure after hearing your tone. “Ehem, wait sorry. You’re serious? Is this what you’ve been worrying about?”

“Well yeah. What’s so funny about it? Am I just some joke to you?”

“No no! Yn, wait.” He placed both of his hand above your shoulders. Eyes peered at yours before genuinely asking. “Haven’t we been dating for like two months now?”

What? Confusion warps your face.

“Yn, remember? Two months ago when I took you on a picnic by the lake? I asked if you wanted to be together and you agreed to it, remember?” He tried to recall your memory.

Then it snapped.

“Oh, that was a confession? I thought you meant it in a friendly way.” Luke mentally face palmed himself and you sheepishly giggled.

“Okay maybe I was too vague with my words so let’s redo it right now yeah?” You tilted your head at him.

The dark haired boy took both of your hands from your sides, lacing them into his. “Yn L/n, daughter of Athena, one of the best warriors I’ve ever seen, wisest and the most just ever, will you take the pleasure of being my girlfriend?”

You unwind your laced fingers, your hands moving, circling themselves around the nape of his neck as his hands are now placed on the sides your waist, drawing you closer. “Hm will I?” You teased him lightly.

“Please?”

“I guess you got yourself a girlfriend, Castellan.”

You laughed against his chest. And you can feel his ribcage expanding was he laughed along with you.

You tilt your head above, standing on the tips of your toes, as you pulled him even closer than before. Your noses touch at the proximity and you could feel his breath on yours. “Is this why you’ve never kissed me before?” you hear him whisper.

“Well I am doing it right now.” You pull him in, his lips crashing with your own. His grip on your waist tightened as your hands made its way to the softness of his curls. Eyes tightly shut as you both bask in the bliss of ecstasy before pulling apart.

He leaned his forehead against yours. Giving your lip a small peck as he craves for more of you. “I don’t know if this is not obvious yet but I like you, so so much, my Yn.”

You softly giggled. “I like you just as much, my prince.”

©️ sirena | krkiiz 2023

#luke castellan x reader #luke castellan #luke castellan x you #pjo x reader #percy jackson x reader #percy jackon and the olympians #percy jackson x you #percy jackson #pjo tv show #pjo series #luke x reader

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gojonanami · 3 months

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❝ 𝐒𝐔𝐃𝐃𝐄𝐍𝐋𝐘, 𝐈 𝐇𝐀𝐃 𝐀 𝐕𝐀𝐋𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐄 ! ❞

❝ HONESTLY, I CAN'T BELIEVE I GET TO CALL YOU MINE !! ❞

✧ pairing: professor! suguru geto x reader

✧ summary: it's your first valentine's day as a couple with suguru, but he's away for a conference in another city -- and you understand you do, but you can't help but miss him -- so what happens when he ends up surprising you?

✧ warnings: so fluffy!!, suggestive, mentions of nsfw, implications of smut, reader has graduated from her program, set after the events of the main series (including every part), these two idiots are so in love its ridiculous, lingerie mention, wearing his glasses and button down

✧ wc: 1,206

“I’m sorry I have to be away,” you smile at Suguru through the screen, knowing that you’d kiss his furrowed brow away if he was here, before finding his lips with yours. “This conference was last minute, I wish I didn’t have to go, but Yaga left me little choice but to go,”

You shake your head, “We can celebrate when you come back, it’s not a big deal anyway. Just means you have more to make up for on White Day,” you tease, and he laughs, a smile on his lips for the first time the entire call, “don’t worry ok? I’m really not upset,”

“I know, it’s just our first Valentines together and I know you had planned something for us. I really wanted it to be special,” his lips purse, arms crossed as he looks almost utterly hopeless (far too cute) and you can’t help but chuckle, “what?”

“Never thought my hardass professor could be such a romantic,” you smirk, as his cheeks are tinted with a lovely red, “should I be giving you a poor grade for your tardiness?”

He rolls his eyes, as his lips curl again in a smile that can’t seem to escape your presence, “Well, while I’ll definitely be making it up with some extra credit, I’d appreciate my favorite student to cut me a little slack,”

“I recall you cutting me very little slack that first day,”

“On the contrary, I think I was very kind, especially considering you were late to the very first class—“

“And what is this weekend?” You say in mock thought, “our first Valentine’s Day?” He huffs, and you smile in victory, “is this the first headache I’ve given you?”

“Today? Yes,” and you gape at him, and it’s his turn to smirk, “I love you,”

And your gaze grows soft, “I love you too, call me after the conference is done for today?”

“You know I will,” and you both share your goodbyes and you’re left by yourself, as you lay back on your bed, a pout on your lips. Suguru had offered to let you stay at his place, but you know it would have only made you miss him more — being surrounded by his things, his scent, his clothes. You sighed as you buried your face in your pillow, glancing at the picture the two of you had taken in Kyoto at one of the local shrines, almost taunting you.

He’d be back soon enough — right?

Sorry I haven’t been able to call again. It’s been a lot of late nights — too many networking dinners. I’ll call you tonight.

It has been two nights now, and it was Valentine’s Day tomorrow. You had barely gotten a minute to speak to Suguru since your call with him on Friday. You sighed, sending him a picture of you in his button up you stole, along with his spare glasses he had left at your place, can we have a networking meeting? I’ll send an invite to your calendar.

I’ll clear my schedule. You smile.

Another message, as soon as I get back.

You pout, you expected as much — you shouldn’t have dated such an indemand academic. The horrors of academia.

You laid back, forearm over your forehead as you stare back at your blank ceiling. It was fine, you really understood that he was busy, but you just — turning on your side to stare at his smiling face in the framed image on your bedside table before your eyes flutter shut — missed him.

You stir awake to lips pressed at your neck, soft kisses that draw you from the heavy arms of sleep, as your eyes flutter open to see Suguru, at your side.

“Sugu?” And his fingers trace your jaw, as your brow furrows in confusion, “but isn’t it—“

“Happy Valentine’s Day, sweetheart,” he pulls a bouquet of flowers from behind him — an arrangement of your favorites, as you blink, brain seemingly struggling to keep up, “you okay?”

Your fingers find his cheek, “is this a dream?” And he chuckles, as he leans down to plant a sweet kiss on your lips, before his fingers lightly pinch your cheek. And you’re sitting up only to jump into his arms, a gasp on his lips, as he chuckles, arms curling around you, raking his fingers through your hair. The bouquet lays forgotten on the side because truly the best gift was in your arms.

“I missed you too,” he chuckles, as you bury your face in his chest, breathing in his scent, as if he’d disappear any second.

You lean back to look up at him, “What are you doing back early?”

“Made a deal with Yaga that I’d go to all the networking events he wanted, if he let me leave last night,” he kisses your forehead, “surprised?”

“I am, the best surprise,” you find his lips in another kiss, “I was fine with you being busy, but I just missed you so much. It reminded me of all the time we had to spend apart — and I just know I can’t spend another minute without you,” you bite your lip, “I was going to wait until the end of the night, but,” you bite your lip, “I know we discussed moving in before — and I think I’m ready to,”

He blinks, before a smile breaks out on his lips, “Are you sure?” And you wrap your arms around his neck and kiss him, lips sliding against his, as your hands slide back to cup his cheeks.

You part, barely a breath apart, as you press your forehead against his, “Never been more sure of anything in my life — it’s definitely owed to us now, don’t you think?”

He snorts, his eyes shining, as he presses another gentle kiss to your forehead, “Should we start looking for a place now?” And you grin, as you climb into his lap, a tilt of your head.

“Don’t you want your Valentine’s Day gift?” You ghost kisses along his jawline, drawing a gasp from his lips, your hands guiding his own under his shirt you had stolen, “I had worn it last night just to try it on, but now,” you undo a few buttons of his shirt, a hint of red lace peeking through the undone collar.

His clothed cock twitches through his slacks, as his fingers pull yours away, to undo the last remaining buttons to show a red and pink lingerie set — red lace hugged the outline of body with red hearts dotting along the design, sheer blush fabric left barely anything of your breasts and cunt to the imagination — not that he needed to imagine — he had practically memorized every curve and corner of your body.

“Well?” And his fingers pull his shirt off of your body, as he’s gotten you pinned to the bed, as you giggle, lips parted, “I also baked you some sweet treats, baby,”

His lips curl, as he leans down to meet your lips, as his breath warms your lips and his words warm your heart, “There’s only one sweet thing I want, right now.”

The two of you never did get around to looking for a place together — not until the next day.

✧ a/n: this was supposed to come out earlier, but i fell asleep because i slept badly last night and ended up reading a manhwa when i got tired of trying to sleep. wrote this fic listening to laufey's valentine :) i also didn't tag everyone since this was kind of a last minute thing - sorry guys <;3

✧ taglist: @spider-fan72, @grunge-mo0n, @ameri-blog, @kentocalls, @peachyminx, @forest-fruits-jam, @hanxyy, @flyingtranscatofeffed, @sunflowmaryam, @regrettinglifechoices, @sugurus-fave-monkey, @atomicbxtch, @shinylightsalad

#sab [mlist]#sab series [prof suguru]#suguru geto x reader #suguru geto fanfiction #geto x reader #geto suguru x reader #geto fanfiction #geto suguru fanfiction #geto suguru fluff

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imsilay · 5 months

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SOAR pt.2

NSFW +18 MDNI cw: smut, kidnapping, obsessive behavior, fem!reader, König is a fucking delusional, noncon, Stockholm Syndrome. (idk guys it’s more romantic? than i wanted it to be lmao) (and another warning that this chapter might feel different from the first chapter. just saying :> )

word count: 1.7k

summary: Your sweet captor König fucking you after coming back to home from a long mission.

art cr: yashk_pucyet on twt

König was a man of stamina. He made sure you knew it in the first months that he kidnapped you. And after he came back from deployments, he would make sure you knew he wasn’t a man to be satisfied with just one round. He was your husband after all. He should show his wife that he’s the only one that she needed, that was what he was thinking when he pulled you up by your calves and put them onto his shoulders as he pushed his thick cock into your perfect pussy. His perfect pussy. You were his wife so he had all the right to claim you as his. All of you. All of his. “Ich habe das so sehr vermisst.” (I missed this so much.) he grunted as his hips continued its overwhelming pace.

The way your eyes rolled back and walls clenched tightly around his shaft made him bite onto his lower lip so he wouldn’t let out the moan that was threatening to slip away from his lips. “So fucking cute, Maus.” he cooed when you let out the most beautiful moans and whimpers. The sound of your begging and pleading like ‘stop’, ’s too much’, ‘can’t take it’ fall on deaf ears. All he could hear was the lewd sounds of your dripping cunt. And the way your pussy milked him was enough to convince him to continue. But of course he was still sweet enough to draw tight circles on your clit when he felt you get closer to your orgasm. He brought one if his hands down between your thighs as the other kept your legs on his shoulders. “Let go f’me, Maus. It feels good isn’t it? As much as you try to deny it you missed this cock more than me. Did i made you addicted to this cock? Such a slutty wife. My slutty wife.” and of course he was mean. His degrading words went straight to your pussy. The pleasure, the way he stretched your poor pussy, the way his tip hit your most delicious spots were too overwhelming. You felt like the world’s spinning when he bit the soft skin of your calves. He quickly kissed and licked the new mark which found it’s place among the others. With one hard thrust his tip kissed your cervix and made your vision go white when you cum around his thick cock. Your thighs trembled and you let out a soft cry as you cum. “Scheiße.” He hissed. Pussy squeezing him so tight, milking and begging for his cum. Who he was to not give it to his sweet girl. His beautiful wife. “Gonna cum in you süßes Mädchen.” he purred as the movement of his hips became more desperate. The thought of cumming inside your greedy cunt, claiming you with his cum deep inside your cunt, brought him to the edge. So he finished deep inside you, painting your walls with his seeds. Just like how he did when you ride him. The relief and contentment he felt afterwards was something else. Something that made him feel like a caveman. A man who behaves primitive and rough. “I’m sorry, Maus.” he cooed when he finally noticed your tear stained face. He turned his head to side and closed his eyes when he pressed his lips onto the skin of your legs. “Are you mad at me?” he mumbled softly with all his innocence. He pulled his cock out and collapsed on top of you, so you couldn’t look away from him or try to leave his side. “Look at me, Maus. Du gehst nirgendwohin.” (You’re not going anywhere.) his lengthy and calloused fingers found your chin to make you look into his eyes. He hated when you got upset with him. His heart ached and anxiety engulfed his brain whenever you avoided him. It wasn’t like you could ever leave him. Oh he wouldn’t let you. He just needed you so much. His need and desperation for you never ended.

In the other hand, there you were, so sore from his harshness and endless desire for you. You felt like crying again as he softly let go of your chin, deciding that he was already too harsh on you today, and buried his head into your neck. He was heavy. God he was like 130 kilograms and he was crushing your poor delicate body into mattress. Not that he cared if you were uncomfortable. He just wanted to soothe you with the way he thought would work. His actions were confusing you, making you doubt yourself whenever he got so tender and soft with you. Like now. He was nuzzling and murmuring into your neck, kissing and licking the soft skin, breathing in your addictive scent and marking you by sucking bruises onto your throat… He was melted onto your body, like he didn’t fucked you senseless a minute ago. “Was i too rough again?” he finally spoke again, making you sob and nod quietly. All the overwhelming feelings finally getting to you. “Aww poor baby. That was why i wanted you to ride me.” Yeah, like you had had the energy for it after doing it once already. König knew he was hard in bed. Brutal even. He knew if he had his hands on you he would manhandle you into every position he wanted and he wouldn’t think if it hurt you. You see, he was a soldier, he didn’t knew how to be soft. He didn’t knew how to calm down people. When he had his cock in you and you weren’t on top of him -in control- he would only think the ways to go deeper inside your welcoming warmth. Like the caveman he felt. “I will make it up to you, Meine Königin. How about a hot bath?” he suggested as his fingers dug into your messy hair and started to caress it tenderly. Even if he was tired from the work he still wanted to keep his beautiful wife content and happy. You wanted to deny him, to push him of off your sore body and curse at him. Maybe you could hit him across the face if you had the energy. But all you could do was give him another tiny nod. “That’s my beautiful wife.” he smiled so brightly like you just gave him the world. Despite keeping you forcefully in his home, in his bed, in his arms, you couldn’t deny the trust he imbued into your mind.

His large arms wrapped around your body after he pressed a last lingering kiss on your neck. He gently lifted you up and made you wrap your legs around his waist. Once he was sure you were secured in his strong arms he got up from bed and carried you to the tub that he soon filled with warm water and some essences you like. Once everything was done he pulled your back against his chest and you couldn’t help but put your head back on his chest. “Enjoying yourself, Maus?” he chuckled lightly as you closed your eyes with a humm. The way his strong arms wrapped around you and his fingers massaged your sore muscles relaxed you further. “Feels good.” you mumbled, your voice just above whisper and he noted the way you sigh softly when his fingers brushed against the fresh marks on your thighs. You didn’t even wanted to open your eyes, you just wanted to enjoy how his fingers worked on your sore muscles and forget that it was your kidnapper who was holding you firmly against his body. Maybe, just maybe if you forgot that fact, living with him wouldn’t be that bad. And of course you had to bare with him claiming you as his wife and wanting you to call him your husband all the time. Yeah, that was annoying. But in total it wasn’t that bad. He wasn’t that bad. And maybe he was right when he told you that you didn’t needed anyone but him. He could provide for you, he could show affection and he wasn’t afraid to voice his love for you in every given chance. Unlike the men outside. Yeah, maybe if you just play with his rules you could be happier. He loved you after all. You were his little wife. And he was your husband. “What are you thinking?” he pressed a kiss on your temple when he saw your expression. What could you be thinking so hard? He had to know. He wanted to be inside your head constantly. When you didn’t answer, his mind starts to wonder. Why you weren’t answering him? Were you thinking of escaping again? Even after he fucked you this good and taking care of you? “Answer me.” his tone goes darker with the seconds you waste. His fingers squeezing your plush thighs unconsciously. “I- i was just thinking-“ a small cry left your lips when you flinched with the pain on your thighs. And of course he noticed. Like he noticed everything about you. So he let his grip loosen to let you speak. “I think i love you.” you said and felt his whole body tense behind your back. His whole body went stiff like he received a bullet into his chest. And it felt like it. He felt like his heart exploded and replaced with another one so it could beat this fast. You turned towards him to see his expression but what you saw got you more worried. His eyes were fixated on the wall of the bathroom and his mouth was agape. He looked like he was in a trance. “König?” you called his name but he just remained still. So you did the thing you wanted to do for a while and kissed him. He let out a small gasp but it short lived when he immediately grabbed you by the back of your neck and kept your head still so you couldn’t get away from his grip. Oh no, not anymore when he finally, truly got you. A low moan, more like a growl, left his lips when he finally had a taste of your delicious looking lips. Oh god it was like heaven. You were like heaven and now he couldn’t get enough of you. His hungry mouth captured yours with a desperate kiss. His used his free hand to press onto your chin to explore your mouth further. He was desperate for the new taste he got and he was determined to savor it until his last breath. You were his and he had to claim it with his kiss. There was no going back after giving him your delicious lips.

“Now that you kissed me, you can’t leave me anymore.”

a/n: please support me by reblogging, if you liked the content ofc <3 your comments also makes my day :* and i try to reply all of them :>

i just love this fic sm. i can’t get enough. a small chapter to thank you guys for:

THIS. ~(≧▽≦)/~ I WANT TO THANK YOU ALL FOR ALL THE LOVE AND SUPPORT YOU GUYS ARE MY DELULU BBGS <3

and can someone tell me why i love writing König while listening to Rammstein

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charliemwrites · 5 months

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Woof woof… whimper

(Part 10… but technically a continuation of part 9)

Content: Dub-Con/Non-Con, Knotting

It takes your cock-addled brain a second too long to process what Soap’s just said. What he’s implied. And by then he’s all ready for you to buck against him, confused and angry.

“That’s so — that’s not funny!” You shout.

But he’s got you pinned thoroughly, your chest flat against the mattress and your ass flush against his hips. His cock buried so deep you can feel the hot head of it bullying the deepest parts of you. All your struggling does is make you clench up tight around him, makes him feel that much bigger and meaner inside you. Makes him grunt low and ragged in your ear, all animal appreciation.

“I’m not laughin’,” he replies, nipping at your shoulder.

“G-get off of me, get out, get—”

His hand slides into your hair again, gets a firm hold at the roots and presses your face into the blankets, muffling your protests. Shushes you like soothing a panicked animal.

“Now, now,” he chides, “I still gotta prove I’m not compensating, don’t I?”

You suck in a breath, squeezing your eyes shut. There have to be a million explanations other than the absolutely ludicrous one he’s just presented to you. Cameras, microphones….

How did he know where you live?

How did he know where the spare key was?

How did he know where your bedroom was?

How did he find you at the bar?

Stalker, you tell yourself. He’s a creep, you’ve always known that.

Then where’s your dog?

“N-no,” you warble, bucking again. Nearly scream as his cock twitches inside you; only reason you don’t is because you can barely breathe as it is. He’s so deep inside that he’s practically in your lungs. “No way you’re my — there’s no way. You’re crazy. I’m gonna— ah!”

He draws out as you speak, gradual, and then plunges in again all at once, cutting you off. Grinds his hips in a dirty circle too, burying himself as deep as he can.

“Aww, poor thing,” he coos. “S’alright, baby, I knew this would happen. We jus’ gotta get all those big, scary feelings out first. Then I can explain it all nice and slow.”

You try to scream at him. Try to curse him out, tell him there’s no way in hell you’re listening to a word he says now; never mind letting him spend another second with his dick in you.

All that comes out is a high-pitched keen as he starts fucking you without further preamble. It aches, but you can’t tell in what way. If it hurts, if it’s the best you’ve ever had. Both? Your nerves feel haywire, brain dragged to lust-stupid depths.

“See, there we go,” he rasps, punctuating with a sharp snap of his hips on that last word. “My perfect little mate. Your cunt was made for my cock, made to be bred by me. Isn’t that right?”

You try to shake your head, but his grip keeps you from doing more than sending electricity down your spine, hair pulled taut.

“Yeah it fucking is,” he growls to his own question, canting your hips back further. His fingers grip cruelly into the flesh, sure to leave bruises. You wish you didn’t enjoy the sensation, wish it didn’t make you spasm around him helplessly.

“‘Bout time I owned you right back, don’t you think?” He continues, never stopping or even slowing. You yelp as he tugs your necklace again, arching your back at a steep angle. “Even collared yourself up for me. All it needs is my name.”

Something about that drives some awful, slutty part of your brain fucking wild. The idea of you with a tight leather choker — a collar — with his name (you don’t think about what name) hanging from your throat…

“Like that, don’t you?” He chuckles meanly. “Who’s my good little slut? Who’s my perfect, soaked little breeding whore?”

Tears spring to your eyes as you realize the “I am” is right there on the tip of your over-saturated tongue. If you had air, brain cells, any ability at all, you’d be crying it to the ceiling like the toy he’s treating you as.

He’s going to ruin you, you think. He’s going to fuck you broken. You’re crying and wailing on his cock, think you’d actually throw a tantrum if he pulled out and left you on the edge right now. Would, you realize in horror, beg for him to keep going.

And then he snakes his hand around your hip and starts rubbing your clit — fast, hard little circles. Just the way you like; the way you’d do it yourself. Relentlessly and cruel, even when you try to writhe away from how fast you can feel yourself getting to the edge. Almost frightened by it, how quickly he’s mastered your body’s pleasure.

Frightened by the extra stimulation at your entrance, too. A little extra friction at first — shocking because you’re leaving a puddle on the sheets. But then the friction becomes pressure, becomes… more.

“W-wha….?” You slur, hips wriggling.

Soap (Johnny?) snarls in your ear and that feeling at your entrance grows. Feels, you realize with alarm, like stretching.

“Gonnae take my knot so well,” he rambles, accent thick like syrup, trickling into your empty brain, filling you up with meaningless sounds. “Plug you up full of my cum, breed you right just like you need.”

Any questions or confusion are whisked away by the extra stimulation at your entrance. The sensitive nerves getting just as much brutal attention as your inner walls, your cervix, that sweet spot inside you that makes your eyes roll back.

It all becomes too much all at once and crashes through you, devastating. You clamp down around him tight and needy, lean all your weight back into his thighs. And he practically howls as he sinks into you and stays, grinding and humping without ever actually pulling out again. You feel a flood of heat that seems to go on for an absurdly long time, cock pulsing against your overstimulated walls, milked for every last drop.

You shudder as your brain tries and fails to process it all. Like trying to decipher a foreign language from white noise. It’s nothing but static to you.

You can feel a tongue against your shoulder, scraped of blunt teeth. Soap/Johnny licking the sweat from your skin and nipping bruises into the flesh. You make an annoyed noise that comes out whinier than intended, shoving at his face.

“Get off, you bastard.” Your voice is pathetic, thick with tears and fractured in a hundred places.

“Can’t, bonnie, even if I wanted to.”

You scowl, try to look at him over your shoulder. He takes that opportunity to nuzzle against your temple.

“What?” You ask. “What are you talking about?”

“Did ye hear me?” He chuckles. “Well, maybe not with the way you were screamin’. You’re all knotted up, baby. Can’t pull out — ‘less you want this pretty pussy to tear.”

You jolt, nearly yank yourself off out of pure fear, but Johnny keeps you still again, humming.

“Easy now,” he croons. “Still fussy? Need another to settle down?”

Useless as your brain may be, it recognizes what he means by “another one.” You think you might pass out.

“No,” you snap, petulant even to your own ears. “I want you to explain… explain everything.”

“Alright, hen. C’mere.”

He gently lays you out prone on the bed, then rolls you both on your sides. Hitches your leg up over his hip. You want to protest, but it helps the ache in your poor cunt.

“H-how are you still hard?” You pant, traitorous pussy twitching around him.

He growls in your ear, can feel him grinning against the lobe. “Will stay that way for a bit, lass. Don’ worry, you jus’ have to lay here all nice and still. Keep me warm while I explain things to you.”

And he does. How there are shapeshifters out there in the world, rare as they are. That he comes from a line of them. Recruited to military, as most of them are.

How he was on standard patrol when he smelled you for the first time.

“Like a wet dream, bonnie. Fertile. Spring. Smelled like mine.”

How he instantly knew you were his mate. That he just needed to make you see it. Never a good time to explain it all to you — and then there were interlopers and your silly little books and your pesky toys. How he tried to drop hints around the house, let you come to the correct conclusion on your own. But you never did.

“Honestly it’s a good thing I’m here, hen. You’re so oblivious. Lived with a man and never even knew it.”

That he tried to go about it the other way ‘round, as a man, but you’re just so stubborn. And then how it all led up to tonight. To you finally, finally realizing what you really needed: your mate.

You should be angry, furious. There’s a lot to say about… well, all of it. It’s horrifying and violating and… and…

And he hasn’t stopped bullying your clit since he started talking. Cruel, tight circles. Drawing the hood back with two fingers and stroke with a third, slow and languid and just soft enough to make your head spin. Rhythmless taps. Even pinches when you try to chew him out at one point, half turning to scowl. Instead have his tongue lapping sloppily at yours as your mouth gapes open soundlessly.

Makes you cum twice just like that without ever interrupting his own story, cock still hilted — knotted deep inside you. Honestly, you probably miss a good portion of it, some of the finger details for sure. But you get the broad strokes (among other strokes).

He licks at your overstimulated tears when he’s finished, nuzzling and kissing your cheek.

“I-I miss my dog,” you mumble finally, hands balled against your chest.

“Aww, darlin’,” he sighs, sounding genuinely apologetic. “We’re one and the same. I’m always your boy no matter what form I take.”

It would be more comforting if his dick didn’t throb calling himself your boy.

“‘Sides, I’m better than a normal mutt,” he continues, tugging you against his chest. You want to hate that is instantly makes you feel a little better. “Wolves mate for life, after all.”

#sorry this is a little shorter but uhhhhh i never know where to go after smut #anyway hope yall like it #cod #my writing #fanfiction #reader fic #thoughts™️#dark fic #woof woof johnny #woof woof au #wolf john soap mactavish #johnny soap mactavish

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irisintheafterglow · 8 months

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uno wild card: stop writing for coparenting!megumi with satoru or draw 25

me, with 95 cards already in my hand:

also cw this is angst/comfort 'cause apparently i'm in the mood for pain

"shh, shh, baby. you're okay. i'm right here. you're okay." his breath is still rapidly uneven, chest heaving while you hold him in your lap on his mattress. "megs, you need to breathe. you're okay. i've got you." it wasn't often that megumi had nightmares; but, every few months, something triggered in his mind and had him seeing monsters that weren't real. as if by instinct, you felt that something was off tonight. there wasn't any time for explanation as you peeled satoru's arms from your torso, just a hyperfocus on the panicked child in the next room over.

"i don't-i don't-" his voice breaks into strangled cries and his little fingers grip tighter on your clothes, one of satoru's old pajama shirts. fat drops run down his cheeks, eyes irritated and red. you continue to hush the boy, gently running your fingers through his hair as his tears soak through the fabric of your top.

"they won't get you, megs. i promise," you whisper into his temple, pressing your lips tenderly to his forehead. "you're okay." his chokes for air have decreased slightly, but he's still trembling like you'd just pulled him from a frozen-over lake.

"where's satoru?" you sigh, chest aching at the implications of those two words. it wasn't that megumi didn't want you there. whatever woke him up must have distressed him so much that he was actually acknowledging your boyfriend. it broke your heart into a few more pieces.

"next door, fast asleep. do you want me to go get him?" he immediately tenses against you, wrapping his arms around your neck so you couldn't get up. "megs?"

"please don't leave me," he pleads. his voice is small and riddled with fear. you nod, slipping one arm under his tiny legs so that he's hanging on you like a monkey.

"can i bring you to our bed? is that okay?"

"mhmm," he hums exhaustedly into your shoulder. his breaths have evened out to a relatively calm rhythm, but he still holds on to you like you'd launch into the stratosphere if he let go. pulling back the covers with one hand, you gently set the boy down next to satoru, who sleepily blinks open a curious blue eye.

"and where might you be going?" he quietly asks in the darkness of the room, propped on an elbow as you make to go back to megumi's bed. megumi was already fast asleep, curled into himself with satoru's hand protectively on his head.

"i'll be right back; i'm gonna go grab his wolf."

"come back quickly. i miss you," he yawns and you can tell it's taking a lot out of him to not fall back asleep. still, his constant need for your presence has you chuckling under your breath.

"i've been awake for five minutes, love."

"five minutes too long, so hurry up." it's barely twenty seconds that you're gone, picking up megumi's favorite stuffie and crawling back under the blankets with your boys. his arms unconsciously wrap around the wolf and he sighs deeply in contentment. despite the calm, your chest still felt like it was aching for the boy and it was almost too much. it almost is, until satoru's hand reaches out to brush your cheek with his knuckles. "hey, beautiful."

"hi, handsome. you okay?"

"i'm great, albeit a little sleepy," he drawls, glancing down at the snoring kid between your bodies. "nightmare?" you hum in assent, pulling megumi closer when he flips over to hug you. satoru takes his chance and tugs both of you into him until his arms stretched over both you and megumi. "he say what it was about?"

"he didn't, though it must have been pretty bad since he was asking for you," you reply. you expect a lightheartedly indignant protest, but all you're met with is a deep, deep frown. "why the face?"

"poor kid shouldn't be having nightmares so bad that he forgets he hates me." you scoff, careful not to wake the kid. your kid.

"he doesn't hate you, satoru."

"okay," he concedes, "'mildly dislikes' for the sake of comedy."

"there you go," you smile at him and he gazes lovingly back at you.

"you know, i really didn't plan for you to be part of this mentorship equation," he confesses and your eyebrow raises in question of his point. "but," he continues, pressing a kiss to your nose. "i'm so glad you're in it."

"i love you, satoru."

"you promise?"

"on the moon and the stars."

#gojo x you #gojo x reader #gojo x y/n #satoru gojo x you #satoru gojo x reader #satoru gojo x y/n #satoru x you #satoru x reader #satoru x y/n #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk x y/n #jjk angst/comfort

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mickyschumacher · 7 months

Note

can i request something for carlos sainz x leclerc!reader on vacation?there’s such a soft spot in me for summer vacation carlos like in a beach setting or on a yacht. it can be soft or smutty it doesn’t matter i just love summery carlos. thank you!!!

𝐒𝐄𝐂𝐑𝐄𝐓𝐒 𝐈𝐍 𝐒𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐈 .ೃ࿐

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: while the leclercs maybe spending their summer vacation at home, you opted for a secret vacation in santorini with your secret boyfriend, carlos sainz. or in which you are secretly dating your brother's teammate.

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: 18+ (minor dni), unprotected sex (if you're gonna slip, slop, slap, you must wrap your willy!), reader dob in 1999, dating in secret trope!, sainz & leclerc = google translated spanish & french ._., ig the reader has a shaved downstairs?, p in v, teasing, oral sex, lovey dovey smut?, poor humour, breastplay, fingering, cumming inside, bit of overstimulation for the reader, scandal and swift references, love confessions.

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: bf!carlos sainz x younger leclerc!fem!reader

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 4k+

𝐀/𝐍: firm agree on the summery carlos! is it really my writing if i don't get santorini involved? anyways, hope this was up to your standards! sorry for the long wait! ♡︎

𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

⋆ •°. 。 .°• ⋆

Dating your brother's teammate was never on your bucket list. Hell, you tried to stay away from Formula 1. Well, as much as Leclerc could anyways.

People older than you weren't really your type. You opted for people near your age. That way there wasn't an awkward generation gap and there was no one that reminded you of your older brothers. Carlos was only five years older than you but the generational gap was most certainly there.

Men your age were... well, boys.

Men Carlos' age were men but also men.

You had seen Carlos at races before. And he was an attractive man, obviously. But that was that. You passed each other down the paddock, barely giving each other a glance. And not to mention the obvious, you were far too young for him at the time.

But then Ferrari's first car launch after signing Carlos had happened.

You had seen Carlos more in the few hours the event lasted than the past few years. You didn't know what it was. Whether you were unintentionally stalking him or vice versa. What you did know, however, he was definitely eyeing you.

By the time Charles had introduced you, Arthur, Lorenzo, and your mother, Carlos was trying to keep his interest at bay, pretending to be as family-friendly as possible.

Carlos ended up catching you as you came out of the bathroom, smoothly asking for your number. And as much as you wanted to give it to him, you weren't going to be easy. You were a Leclerc for crying out loud.

If Carlos wanted you, he would have to earn you.

And boy did he try.

You had heard from several people and the Internet that Carlos was a hardcore romantic. You never thought about it up until he started pulling out all the stops.

He was attentive as hell, remembering your favourite drinks, slipping you a new book to read as he talked to Charles, purposely linking his pinky with yours as discreetly as he could just so he could see you flush in front of him, sending you clothes for you to wear to his races to your apartment...

Carlos was menace.

But somewhere along the line, he became your menace.

You and Carlos were the epitome of the saying 'Romance is not dead if you keep it just yours'.

Keeping it secret... sure it was frustrating at times. The both of you had person after person trying to get with you because, well, you were a Leclerc and he was Carlos Sainz. Carlos had managed to draw a line by telling people he had a girlfriend but he didn't want to reveal her.

Yeah... it didn't settle well with the grid, in particular the three gossipers of the grid: Pierre, Lando, and your brother.

But after all the little bumps in the road, it was smooth sailing.

Most of the time you spent time together was alone, just the two of you. That way, there was no risk of being caught and you could revel in each other.

Of course, it wasn't that easy. Nothing was easy with you and Carlos, especially given that you couldn't keep your hands off of one another. Carlos a slight more than you because you had the decency and fear of embarrassment of getting caught by anyone. Carlos, on the other hand, was as indecent as they come. Hands always looking for an excuse to touch you, eyes travelling to find you first in any room, sending dirty texts when you sat across him... like you said, he was a menace.

To make things easier for yourself, for this summer break, you and Carlos had picked trusty Santorini as a romantic getaway, taking his dog Piñon as a welcomed third wheeler. Filled with so many tourists that you and Carlos would look like any regular couple there.

"Now this is a summer break," You breathed out, walking on to the yacht you had rented out for your stay in Greece. The air was clean and crisp, the sun was already beating down on you despite it being nine in the morning, and the translucent blue waters brought you a sense of familiarity that Monaco held.

"Don't you agree, Piñon?" You cooed to the soft ball of white curled up into your arms. A small bark of agreement came from the dog, tail wagging in happiness.

Carlos chuckled behind you, putting down your bags on the deck, under the shade. His thick arms enveloped your waist, bringing you closer to him. Nestling his chin into your shoulder, he said, "That's good, hermosa (beautiful). Now try saying it in Spanish."

You made a face at his teasing tone. Pulling yourself out of his grasp, you turned towards him. "Ahora son unas vacaciones de verano. ¿No estás de acuerdo, mi querido Carlos?" You recreated the same coaxing tone you had given Piñon to your lover, pinching his cheek with the energy of an overly endearing mother. Now this is a summer break. Don't you agree, my dear Carlos?

Carlos gave you a pointed look. You were teasing him. You knew he liked when you spoke Spanish because it was cute to see you fumble over the words but it also meant a lot to him that you were trying.

You rolled your eyes at his reaction and settled Piñon on the deck after making sure it wasn't too hot for those small paws of his. You watched him trot around the yacht, carefully examining his surrounding to test his boundaries.

Satisfied that Piñon was safe, you turned back to Carlos. "Brunch?"

"Brunch..." Carlos trailed off, hand reaching out to your face. The soft pad of his thumb graze your lips, gently pulling on your bottom lip to watch it bounce back. "...or brunch?" He asked, voice heavy with a clear need.

Your body thrived with an eagerness to respond to his touch. Goosebumps were the paint to the canvas of your skin, littering each part of you even though you were impossibly warm in the sun. You really wanted brunch. But your stomach wanted brunch. Instead, you simply nodded to him, agreeing with the answer he had never said. "You're right. Food is very important."

Carlos groaned at your response. "Hermosa," He sighed out, bringing his arms around your waist to pull you close yet again. "I want you," He murmured against your skin, nose brushing against your cheek and hot breath wandering down your neck.

Carlos could feel you smile at his words. "And you have me... for two whole weeks," You reminded him, pressing a brief kiss to his cheek.

Carlos curled his lip in annoyance at your reminder while he revelled in your touch. "I could have you for four," He also reminded you.

You sighed. You hadn't seen him in three weeks because life had it's mysterious ways of making the both of you busy. You wanted nothing more than a month with Carlos. But it was far too suspicious.

You had barely convinced your mother and your brothers that you were going to Santorini for a 'self-exploration' trip. Charles had immediately offered to turn it into a family trip but you managed to settle him down by saying you would spend the last two weeks with them. Alexandra had been a sweetheart in the matter as well. She was the only one, as well as Kika and Lily, that had known about you and Carlos, claiming they sensed it from 'a mile away'.

What they truly meant was that Carlos wouldn't stop eye-fucking you from a far.

"It's okay," You mumbled woefully, patting his chest softly, "I'll be with you in spirit while you reign Madrid."

Carlos held in his eye roll at your theatrics, you had a flair for them. "I wish you would reign Madrid with me instead. I want you to meet the family, let me finally teach you golf, go to the holiday house with me, hmm?" He implored, chocolate brown flickering to search yours.

The pain behind your eyes made him feel frustrated. He knew how much you wanted to do that because you wanted the same thing with your family. "How 'bout I call Charles, hmm? I'm sure he'll understand."

The thought of Charles finding out from anyone but you made you shudder. Would he understand? What was so understandable about hiding the fact you were dating his teammate for over a year, especially over a call?

Arthur, amongst Charles and Lorenzo, would probably be the most hurt. You and him told each other everything. You guys were the closest in age, similar to how Lorenzo and Charles were. Hell, you even helped him confess and get with Carla. And he was waiting to do the same for you, with some he trusted and knew.

And Lorenzo? It was really for the best if he didn't know from Carlos. He had initially told you not to get too close to any of the drivers because he was worried for you and well, the reputation of F1 drivers and dating wasn't too great. But you were quite sure that anything you and Carlos did had crossed the line of 'too close'. '

"Carlos, mi amor, I love you, but I think the idea of brunch, not brunch, is more understanding."

━━━━━━━━━━━

After your brunch, you had spent some time reading to Carlos inside the yacht, not wanting to get into the water just after you had eaten nor wanting to go out when the sunshine was at it's peak.

It was serene.

The windows were open, letting a cool breeze come and help reduce the heat and you were both sprawled on the soft mattresses that served as sofas on the floor of the yacht. The calmness and peace you had desired amongst the chaos life and F1 brought.

You were half sure that Carlos was close to falling asleep in your lap, but not by your retelling of Jane Austen's Pride and Prejudice, after Carlos refused to see Keira Knightley and Matthew Macfadyen for the sixth time this year, but by the way your combed your hand through his hair as you read. (Although you were still going to be persistent because the concept of seeing those two on screen in Santorini out of all places was a need, not a want).

"Carlos, mon beau (my handsome), you're going to fall asleep. Let's go swimming," You told him, placing your bookmark in between the pages and closing the book.

Carlos groaned, looking up at you. He held your hand close to his chest. "No, it's way too hot. Don't you see the water? It looks like lava."

You narrowed your eyes. "That precisely why we should go swimming. We can't just sit here and mope around. We're in Santorini... we need to stand up and move around."

Carlos lifted his head from your lap, sitting straight so he faced you. You let out a quick yelp when he pulled you forward, placing you onto his lap, legs straddling him. "I can think about fifty ways to stand up and move around... in fifty different positions."

You could feel your thighs involuntarily clench around him. You know he felt it to. You gasped at his words and shook your head. "You are a heathen, Carlos Sainz. A barbarian... a hooligan, a sexually-driven simpleton must I continue?"

"Well, I recall you loving this heathen, infidel, barbarian, and hooligan," Carlos shrugged, warm hands inching up the white sundress you had worn this morning. The action sent a shudder down your spine.

"Carlos," You mumbled, already falling into a state where you were losing the words to speak your thoughts as Carlos kneaded the flesh of your thighs with his rough hands.

"Yes?" Those puppy brown eyes flickered to your eyes while he brought his mouth to your thighs, opting to graze your heated skin with the teeth. "Tell me what you want, hermosa. And I'll give it to you."

You faltered at his words. His gaze was heavy with a dark blaze that sent your stomach churning. You allowed yourself to fully straddle Carlos' lap, teeth sinking into your bottom lip when you felt Carlos' clothed bulge press into your core.

Carlos struggled to prevent a strained hiss escape his gritted teeth, his grip on your thighs tightening, your flesh escaping the confines of his hands. Fuck, were your thighs so enticing to Carlos. He wanted to bite them and bruise them so even weeks later, they were covered in the reminiscents of him.

"What do you want, baby? Please tell me," Carlos begged, eyes desperately searching your own for any sign or indication of what you wanted.

You felt your core clench at the plea falling from Carlos' plump lips. You hadn't even really done anything but he was ready to serve you. Everything was foggy. You couldn't think straight. "I want... I want you, Carlos. Fuck, anything, everything... I–make love to me. Show me how much you love me."

His roaming hands came to a halt. "Mierda (shit)," Carlos cursed, bringing his tongue to swipe his bottom lip.

He could do that. He would love you so much that the entirety of Santorini would know and no one would even question your relationship with him.

Carlos brought his hands to your back, feeling the numerous strings of your dress against the pads of his fingers. One hand worked to undo the very knots he had done this morning while the other creeped up the back of your neck, pulling your head closer to his.

He brought his lips to yours, pressing them with an indescribable urgency. Your hands shot out to his chest, fisting the soft material of the polo you had chosen for him into a small bundle.

You gasped into the kiss, feeling a sudden breeze of cold air as the strings of your dress fell flat against your skin. Carlos' hands wandered down the surface of your back, coming to a stop at your waist.

The urge to get even closer to you coursed through Carlos' veins, pulling you flush against him. A moan fell from his swollen lips as you parted to fill the craving of some oxygen. Your pussy was pressed tight against his cock and your breasts were soft, pushed against his chest.

Carlos ventured to move his lips down the side of your jaw, edging towards your barren neck, aching to decorate you with aging and unique shades of purple and blue.

You let out a series of sinful whimpers upon the feeling of your skin being sucked at, feeding directly into his constrained cock. "Carlos..." You moaned out, eyes shut in pure pleasure, "They'll know. The–They'll ask q-questions."

"I know." You shivered as you feel him grin against your skin.

You watched him through your half-lidded eyes, moving up from your neck to look at you with his blistering gaze. With one simple movement, he took off his shirt, revealing his taut golden skin. Christ.

You sat still breathlessly on his lap as Carlos peeled off your dress, pulling your arms through the white material. The cool breeze trickled over your bare breasts, nipples hardening almost instantly.

Carlos let a warm hand rest over your rib, lifting you gently to remove your dress fully. He sighed, laying you down on the mattress. The tips of his fingers travelled from your neck and down the valley of your breasts, the hairs of your body standing straight at his touch.

"You know what it is a tragedy, hermosa?" Carlos queried, watching you quiver underneath him, chest heavily rising up and down.

He smiled at your asking through your eyes because the words just couldn't come out of your throat. "You will never see yourself the way I see you. Eres una sirena... obra de Dios. If He didn't put you on this Earth that would've been his biggest sin." You are a siren… God's work.

If your throat wasn't tied up before, it surely was now. You looked at him with a soft gaze, watching him come near you to press his lips on your own. You whimpered, feeling his hands travel towards your breasts, fondling your mounds with a cautious roughness that sent your stomach tingling.

You frowned at the loss of his lips but the complaint subsided upon the feel of his hot tongue swirling around your pebbled nipple. He paid attention to every flick and every crevice, keeping his deep eyes trained on you. He smiled at your hiss as he purposely grazed his teeth against your nipple.

Carlos removed his lips from your nipple, moving his head back to hover over your pussy. Still keeping his eyes on you, you watched in silence as the hot saliva fell from his lips, bubbly strings landing directly onto your glistening folds. Fucking hell.

"Eyes on me, baby," He told you, looking at your clenched eyes.

Your eyes shot open as Carlos took one long stripe of your folds, your hips bucking at the sudden sensation. Lingering a second too long on your clit, his tongue continued to work up towards your stomach and the valley of your breasts, returning his attention to your other nipple.

Your mouth fell open, feeling his fingers rub your wet folds, spreading his saliva around your pussy. While his tongue worked your nipple, he thrusted a thick finger into your walls. With your eyes rolling back, you attempted to fist the thick material of the mattress but to no avail.

"Fuckk, Carlos," You whimpered, writhing at his touch.

"Finally found your words, hmm?" Carlos teased, adding another finger into his torturous slow pace. His eyes were glued to watching your hips out of his periphery, snapping up to try and ride his fingers. As laboured breaths fell from your lips, he pushed his digits even further, aiming to reach a specific spot.

Smoothly, Carlos grabbed a nearby pillow, putting it under your lower back to bring you some comfort and a whole new level of pleasure. He stared at your face intently: your mouth had fallen wide open with a ghost whisper of his name flowing into the air, sweat glistened over your flushed face, pooling near the edges of your hair and neck, and your lips were swollen with the prettiest shade of red he had ever seen.

"Carlos," You managed to get out with your brain practically turning into jelly. "Carlos, please, I don't want to cum like this. I need your cock, please."

Carlos' cock throbbed at your pleas. "Your wish is my command, princesa."

Hearing your whines upon the loss of his fingers, Carlos took off his blue shorts faster than he had ever done in his life.

Even though you had been with Carlos sexually for a while, your cheeks still flamed when you saw his cock. Not out of embarrassment or unadulterated innocence. No. It was outright heat that was getting to you.

Every time you saw his cock, it was a violent shade of red, throbbing and aching, leaving Carlos begging to be touched by you.

You watched as Carlos leaned forward, hovering over you. It was beyond you how exactly pretty Carlos was. You hadn't realised until he started courting you. You had no idea how you were supposed to live without seeing his thicket of brown locks, his freckles that could only be depicted if you were close to him otherwise they blended with his prickly stubble, the smug smile he constantly wore to hide himself, and especially his big brown eyes that made you bend to his command.

"Carlos?" You softly called out.

Carlos' ears perked up at your gentle tone. He smiled down at you with raised brows. His hands continued to travel your body, retracing every curve and fold as he had committed to his memory. "Sí, mi hermosa?"

You ran a hand through his hair before caressing his cheek. God, he was your beautiful boy. "Je t'aime plus que tu ne peux l'imaginer." I love you more than you can imagine.

You knew he didn't speak French despite spending this many years with Charles but it often comes from you naturally when you were too caught up in your feelings.

"Je ne pense pas que ce soit le cas. You don't know how my every feeling is controlled by the look on your face. I can't breathe without you. Every race, I hope you're there waiting for me because you're pretending to wait for Charles. Hermosa, I exist for you. No one else." I don't think you do.

Your eyes widened, fresh tears lining your waterline. "You understood–you learned French?" You whispered, voice barely audible.

Carlos grinned. "I'm quite sure I said a lot of after that but yes, I did learn French for you... surprise!"

You suppressed the urge to push him off of you and gave him a long kiss. Pulling back, you laughed gently. "You're an idiot... making me cry during sex. And not even in the good way!" You feigned your complaint.

"Well, we still have tonight and thirteen more days. Today I'm just showing how much I love you," He whispered above your lips, hips lining up with yours.

You sucked in a sharp breath, feeling Carlos' cock brush past your folds. You both moaned in unison as he pushed his cock into your pussy. Your walls wrapped around his cock tightly, gripping him like a vice.

Carlos cursed several profanities under his breath, head lolling back while pleasure coursed through his body. His arms encircled your waist, pulling you up to sit on his lap. His cock ached at the high-pitched mewl that fell from your swollen lips.

His hands fell to your hips, holding you tightly, slowly shifting you up and down his length, burying his cock in you.

You closed your eyes, letting your forehead rest on Carlos'. You can feel him staring at you, taking all of you in: every hue of your flushed state, your eyelashes riddled with tears and sweat, the heavenly and sinful sounds from your lips, and your greased hair.

"You are breathtaking," Carlos whispered against you.

You smiled, opening your eyes to meet his and rolling your hips slowly in response. "You make me feel so good," You praised.

A rough moan was elicited from Carlos, throat tight and choked up from your words and actions. He could barely function seeing your bare pussy take his cock so well, let alone how the tip of his cock throbbed when he lifted you up. His own eyes were beginning to shut as he revelled in the ecstasy you brought hip.

Fuck, you were so wet. You looked down at your thighs, seeing the obscene sheen of your arousal coat spread to Carlos' thighs. You sunk your teeth into your bottom lip, hips snapping to create a rhythm.

"Carlos, I, fuck," You blabbered in complete disarray. You were beginning to seem the edges of a familiar white light.

Although Carlos appreciated the sign, he could tell by the way you were clenched so tightly around his cock, getting his cock to pulsate every few seconds, that you were going to come.

He moved his hands between your legs, watching you sink over his cock one more time before he obstructed the view by using his thumb to rub your clit in circles.

"Mierda," Carlos cussed, feeling you grip his cock even further if it was possible. "Cum for me, mi amor."

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," You repeated the expletive as if it were a mantra, hips bucking as white clouded your vision. You let out a loud moan, body shaking as waves of your climax hit you one after the other.

Not a second later, Carlos was cumming too. His hips rutted against yours in almost an unrecognisable desperation, the peak of his ecstasy right within his grasp. His cock pulsed while his hips came to a falter, stuttering as ropes of his white cum spilled into you, warming your walls.

"F-Fuck," Carlos groaned, feeling your pussy clamp around him, trying to take every last drop of his cum.

You feel Carlos slump forward into you, exhausted. Gently, you lifted yourself off of his cock, wincing at your sensitivity. You fell straight onto the mattress, panting heavily.

"Shit!" You yelped as Carlos pushed some of his leaking come back into and circle your clit. You shook at the mini aftermath of your orgasm before calming back down.

"Satisfied?" You nudged Carlos playfully, knowing damn well Carlos liked to go the extra mile when it came to you.

"Very," Carlos commented, reaching his arms out to bring you closer to him.

You sighed, resting your head on his chest. The exhaustion was very quickly seeping into the both of you. Carlos' heartbeat was beginning to work as a lullaby and Carlos had found your warmth far more comforting than any mattress or duvet.

"Hermosa," He called, making you hum for you had no energy to speak. "We need to tell them."

You found yourself trying to open your eyes. When had they closed? You turned to face him, chin resting on his heated torso. You pressed a brief kiss and said, "I know. Let's tell them in a few days. So they have at least a week to yell at me."

Carlos frowned at your words. "I'll be right there with you. You know that right? I'm not letting you do this alone."

You smiled after letting out a small yawn. "I know, I know. I'm grateful. Thank you, mi amor."

Carlos returned the gesture, kissing your forehead gently. He rubbed your shoulders, feeling the dark abyss of slumber slowly call to him. "Anything for you, hermosa."

#mickyschumacher #f1 x reader #f1 x you #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #formula 1 #f1 smut #carlos sainz imagine #carlos sainz smut #carlos sainz x reader #carlos sainz x you #carlos sainz

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frogchiro · 8 months

Note

I hope I’m not bothering you with my ancient greek mythology stuff my little brain is going into overdrive👉👈

Just…sculptor/painter reader using the gladiators as her nude model…running your hands over their muscles and gushing how strong they are and how amazing your latest piece is going to come out!

You don’t even notice they’re getting hard as you run your fingers over their adonis belt commenting how they’re your new muse for your art

I almost (s)creamed the moment I saw this ask nonnie dear you're a genius ;;

Also I feel the need to mention this; please do keep in mind that this is only my silly au and most probably will have historical inaccuracies so if you're a true history/ancient greece/roman enjoyer, please go mild on me ;;

But back to the drill...You are so right??? Like...I imagine that reader would be a young, aspiring artist with a knack for painting. Maybe she doesn't come from a wealthy family so any true school for it is out of the question, your own parents only came along when you started selling your painting and doing commissions for nobles and it actually started to bring in money. Your road to success is still long but you're managing! Plus you're 'stupidly determined like your father' as your mother says so you try to stay positive!

The one problem you had was something you believed many artists suffered from; inspiration and models. Specifically human models. The human body and physique fascinated you from an early age, the moving muscles, facial expressions to different stimuli and so much more but...the problem were the models, or rather the lack thereof.

You could probably hire someone but the money spend on that would be way too much for your limited budget so the next best thing was the coliseum! It was a blessing in poor disguise, the gladiators trained there almost daily and luckily the head keeper of the arena begrudingly let you stay there and practice in exchange for a satchel of money but to be honest...the practice wasn't the only thing you longed for when visiting the coliseum almost daily, it was the gladiators.

They were huge, burly men in their prime, all of them looking like they were born with a sword or spear in hand and to grow up to become warrior and you'd be lying if you said that warmth didn't spread through your body and centered in your lower belly whenever these big, loud and boisterous men didn't call out for you and purred in dripping, low voices how pent up they are and what they wouldn't give for a pretty soft thing like you :((

The worst (or best) part was when you were practicing nude drawings which were equally fascinating and hard to draw, especially with all these men being so...shameless with it. You loved the human body, all artists do but still you were a young lady and watching all the gladiators walking around the barracks all naked and proud was...an experience to say the least and brought a pang of warmth between your thighs, especially when they were so happy to parade themselves like proud stallions in front of you :((

Strong, toned bodies glistening with sweat and water, their hardening cocks proudly on show whenever you run your soft hands over their toned torsos to study the way muscles move and twitch whenever you run your fingers over a sensitive spot, the most reactive being two of the many foreign gladiators, Johnny or like he insisted to be called 'Soap' and Kyle or 'Gaz', like he wants to be called.

These two are always purring low withing their chests to you as you look all over them, their backs, chests, stomachs, making you promise to do a special commission only for them but you're just nodding dumbly because you're too transfixed on the god-like bodies to draw :(

Another gladiator you're very fond of is a huge, blonde foreigner named Simon, or 'Ghost'. A formidable warrior, a veteran for sure, it looked like Ares himself send this one here to grace the people with a demigod of war. He was always incredibly patient with you, letting you roam your hands over his body and all the numerous scars decorating his skin. Once you saw Simon up close you immediately realized why people called him a demigod-he was beautiful. A strong and powerful man in his prime, his muscles jumping and twitching beneath his thick skin and a layer of fat, power and virility was literally radiating off of this man, and you insistently tried not to look at the long and thick cock hanging between his legs, twitching and pulsating with arousal whenever you marveled over his body and your fingers ran over his adonis belt <3

#kin speaks #asks #interactions #THANK YOU FOR THIS #i could go on for hours ;;#gladiator au #gladiator!ghost #cod x reader #cod mw x reader #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader #kyle gaz garrick x reader #kyle garrick x reader #gaz x reader #soap x reader #soap mactavish x reader #john soap mactavish #john soap mactavish x reader

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saintobio · 1 month

Text

ACT I. THE LADY

amidst the tale of sweetest love and bitterest revenge, the fallen empress is cast back ten years into the past to correct her sins and avoid eternal damnation, even at the price of betraying her once husband, the very cause of her downfall.

♱ pairings. gojo satoru, fem!reader

♱ genre. enemies-to-lovers, period piece, medieval au

♱ tags. ooc, regression, crown prince!gojo, noble lady!reader, politics, classism, clan wars, religion (catholicism), slight mentions of gore

♱ notes. 6.5k wc, unedited. again, for anyone who missed my small announcement, the ‘juliet’ from my megumi r+j fic has a name here for narration purposes. she remains as you or yn in the original fic tho :) feedback would be highly appreciated!

series masterlist ♱ act two.

“I humbly beg your pardon, Your Imperial Highness. The lady declines any audience at this time.”

Throughout his princely life, Satoru had never before faced rejection from any of his subjects, let alone one of his own citizens. No one ever dared to deny the Crown Prince as they were aware of the consequences of offending a member of the imperial family, let alone the future Emperor of Caelum.

So, how could this mere daughter of a duke summon the courage to refuse his audience?

It was baffling to him. Were you not the one who had written him a lovestruck letter requesting a meeting? As one of the eligible brides for the Crown Prince and a strong contender for the position of Crown Princess, it was only natural for you to vie for his affection and secure your spot on the imperial throne. You had it all; the status, the power, the wit. You had quite the face, too. This would have been an opportune moment for you to ensnare his favor and win him over. Yet, what reason could you possibly have now to suddenly decline his audience?

“On what grounds did she refuse?” Satoru maintained a stern demeanor as he stood beside his white horse, scrutinizing the servant from the De Roma estate who trembled before the prince. His blue velvet cloak and imperial insignia added to the overall intimidation of his presence.

The maid, mindful of the perils that may befall her for the actions of her master, spake with evident apprehension. “The lady offered no explanation, Your Highness. She simply wishes to remain in her chamber.”

Needless to say, he felt a mixture of amusement and intrigue at this situation. The same noble lady who had previously been forward in her advances and infatuation towards him was now avoiding an opportunity to get acquainted? And to think, he had believed he was doing you a favor by granting you a chance to spend time with him this noontide.

“Very well.” The prince gazed down at the servant with a stern expression, raking his slender fingers through his arctic white hair before mounting his war horse. “Remind the lady that there are consequences for denying the rights of the imperial family. Each slight she casts is an arrow to her neck. Let her know that there shall not be another chance such as this.”

He sensed the maid’s fear after she offered him a curtsy, yet he could not fathom how she remained steadfast in her refusal to grant him access to your drawing room despite his clearly spoken warning. She was guarding the entrance to the estate as though she would face greater consequences for letting the crown prince in than for keeping him out. Were you truly so stringent in maintaining your distance from him?

So be it. If that was your game, then let it be played. In fact, you might be trying to seem hard-to-get after the stunts you had pulled at the hunting expedition two weeks hence. If his memory served him right, you were the one who sabotaged Lady Anastasia’s crossbow and led her in her near-fatal experience. You see, you might have gotten away with it, but Satoru was a witness to your deliberate crime. He had seen you tampering with Lady Anastasia’s weapon, replacing her regular bolts with ones laced with fast-acting poison, which left the poor lady paralyzed in the middle of a dangerous hunt. Had it not been for Satoru, Lady de Florentine would have likely been mauled by a wild boar.

Yet, his intervention only seemed to stoke your ire even more. Your jealousy after seeing him save Anastasia’s life only made you see red, almost revealing yourself the true perpetrator for the obvious expressions you had displayed. Still, he chose to remain silent about your malicious actions, pretending to be oblivious to your cunning ways and dismissing any suspicions of foul play in the incident. In a way, Satoru had saved your life more than you realized. Not only that, he had also safeguarded your reputation and standing in high society without your knowledge, as he understood that your animosity towards Lady Anastasia only stemmed from the way he had interacted with her, speaking in close proximity and kissing her hand prior to the hunting game.

Ha! What a devious little viper you were. What a brazenly proud woman. By declining to meet the Crown Prince, you had only ironically succeeded in piquing his interest even more.

“Is everything in order, Your Highness?” It was his close friend and personal knight, Suguru, who snapped him out of his reverie as they rode their horses back toward the capital. Three more of the prince’s knights trailed behind them. Suguru’s question hinted at concern for the prince’s sanity, given that he had been observed laughing to himself despite the insult he had faced just half an hour ago.

“It is rather amusing, is it not?” Satoru pondered, his hands firmly gripping the reins as he guided his horse along the uneven path. “Lady Y/N might seem out of her wits, but she is astute. I see through her tactics. She obviously desires my attention, which is why she is behaving this way.”

The long-haired knight chuckled with unease. “I fear that may not be her intention.”

The notion appeared absurd to him. “Not her intention? Grant her but a moment, and she shall trail after me once more like a shadow. This is a blessing, if anything. I am now spared the need to endure that lady’s temperament during formal events.”

Did you realize? Despite numerous instances where Satoru overlooked your transgressions, if you were to provoke his ire, he could surely publicly enumerate each offense. The stained dress incident involving Lady Serena? Your handiwork. The scandalous rumors regarding Lady Franchetta? Also your doing. Not to mention your mistreatment of maids and commoners out of mere boredom. Your actions would have easily rendered you an unsuitable candidate as the Crown Prince’s bride, yet he remained silent and never reported such occurrences to his father, the emperor. More than that, he should be relieved that you had chosen to avoid him and spared him further entanglements with you.

However, Satoru’s words contradicted his own sentiments, and he refused to acknowledge his hypocrisy. Although he claimed satisfaction with your decision to keep your distance, why did thoughts of you arise foremost when he passed by a jewel shop that showcased its newest collections? He and his men were traversing the city square when his sky blue eyes caught sight of a necklace with a large, deep-red garnet as its centerpiece, surrounded by intricate gold filigrees, and a single teardrop-shaped pearl dangling at the bottom. The overall design was bold and commanding, yet undeniably elegant. A befitting accessory for Caelum’s next crown princess.

“Would you care to inspect the jewel shop, my lord?” proposed one of his knights. “That necklace could serve as a splendid gift for Lady Serena, who is soon to celebrate her birthday banquet.”

The prince saw his reflection in the shop’s window, his white steed poised gracefully while he gazed at the jewelry on display. A smirk unanticipatedly graced his lips as he envisioned a particular scenario in his head. “Indeed.”

⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊶⊶⊶⊶⊶♱⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷

Milena was cinching your corset when your father abruptly entered your chamber, his visage bearing a questioning mien as his footsteps loudened each second. You already anticipated the nature of his visit, for nothing else would prompt such urgency unless it pertained to your reputation. In retrospect, you remembered him having knowledge of your misdeeds against the other debutantes currying favor with the crown prince, and he was well aware of the details of your crafty schemes and all the deliberate sabotage you had orchestrated. And although your father often covered for you out of paternal pride, he still chastised you for your actions in private. The latter assuredly was the purpose of his visit now.

Well, dear father, your daughter is no longer the same.

“Maid,” commanded the duke, “Leave us for a while.”

Milena immediately bowed at your father. “Yes, Your Grace—”

“No, Milena. You will not take a single step out of this chamber.” Your order somehow surprised the both of them as though you had never sounded so authoritative before, like you had the imperial power and position to be issuing commands greater than your father’s. Ah, right. You were not an empress anymore. Or yet. None of these people were your subjects, and living in the past would really take some time getting used to. In an effort to conceal your years of imperial presence, you looked at your father with a gaze that suggested naivety. “What is the matter, father?”

Duke de Roma appeared visibly strained by his youngest child. “Y/N, is it true that you declined a visit from Crown Prince Satoru?”

You felt the urge to scoff, but opted against it. “Rejection is an understatement, Your Grace. My interest in His Highness has simply waned.”

“So soon?” The elderly man was perplexed by your assertion, considering your reputation as a notorious obsessive lover of the prince. You were perceived by all as the erratic woman who would engage in conflict with any rival who dared to court his affections. “What sudden change prompts you to speak ill of him? Were you not striving to win his favor?"

Yes, but that was before. That was the version of yourself who sacrificed everything for someone incapable of reciprocating the love you sought. Things have altered now, and you recognized it was wiser not to pursue Satoru after knowing and personally experiencing the peril it posed to both yourself and the empire. He would only seek to exploit your family’s military influence to stage a coup against his parents, beguile you with his false affections, and make use of you until you were no longer serving him any purpose. You refused to be complicit in his ambitions any longer. Not in this life, no.

“Rather,” you began with a voice of confidence, “I would choose being in a convent than to wed a man like His Highness.”

Your father nearly fainted from your words. “By Saint Peter’s keys! I cannot understand the youth of today. Tell me, is there another suitor who has captured your interest? Have you found another man more noble than a prince?”

With a smile, you looked at yourself in the mirror and prepared for the day ahead. “No, Father. On the contrary, I seek a life of solitude. If I could remain unwed for the entirety of my days, I would gladly embrace it.”

This, you believed, was the surest way to distance yourself from trouble and seek redemption for your past transgressions. A life without Crown Prince Satoru was the road to attaining highest virtue. Your love for him was the reason you had committed such sins in the past, so the best thing to do in this life was to steer yourself clear from his path at all cost. Otherwise, the thought of facing the piercing gaze of Archangel Raphael again was too daunting to bear.

“What folly is this?” Duke de Roma questioned your words incredulously. “Did you not aspire to become the most powerful lady in the empire? Pursuing the Crown Prince is the path to becoming an empress. Cease this nonsensical talk and continue your efforts to win his favor!”

Once he departed, you were left alone in your chamber, feeling a mixture of relief and frustration. You were tempted to let out a groan of exasperation, but with Milena present, you had to maintain your composure. It was crucial for her to witness your changed mindset. Gone was the vicious lady she had served in her previous life. Though you could not offer a direct apology for the role you played in her demise before, you were determined to ensure her comfort and well-being in this new life.

As for your father, you were uncertain what to do with him yet. He was coming from a place of concern, knowing that your decision to enter a convent would ultimately make his investments futile. He had invested heavily in your upbringing, providing you with every luxury, the finest education, and the resources necessary to secure a prominent place in high society. His aspirations for you to become an empress were not solely driven by paternal pride, but also by the anticipation of reaping the rewards of his investment. Losing such an asset would undoubtedly be a significant blow to his plans and ambitions. Yet, he had no single idea what suffering you had actually endured in your past life after becoming Satoru’s wife for 10 agonizing years.

Well, in that case, you had an alternative plan—one that promised to secure the De Roma family’s status and elevate its wealth to unreachable heights without necessitating your ascent to the imperial throne.

“Milena,” you said, walking towards your window, “Prepare the carriage. We have somewhere to be.”

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“Fifty celestas?!” Milena questioned in disbelief, her hooded cloak framing her face as she confronted the artist before you. Today, both of you dressed down, adopting a guise that would allow you to blend seamlessly with the throng of commoners in the outskirts of the capital. “Signor, are you not asking for an exorbitant sum? You are exploiting My Lady merely because she is the daughter of Duke de Roma.”

It was a mistake bringing Milena with you, but it also served as a good signifier that the artist, Giancarlo di Firenze, was still operating in an era where his talent and skill as a sculptor had yet to be recognized. In the eyes of others, he was a struggling artist whose work warranted no more than a few trinkets. However, you possessed the advantage of foresight, bestowed upon you by your gift of clairvoyance (or in layman’s terms, a cheat sheet into the future due to your regression). You knew that Maestro Giancarlo’s sculptures would eventually gain widespread acclaim, particularly after they were displayed at the Veneran Museum, and he would be the most sought after artist in the continent with pieces worth thousands. Even your then-husband, the emperor himself, commissioned him for the notable Star Crossed Lovers sculpture for the ten year death anniversary of the prince and princess of the Astheryn and Caelum Empires. The 50 celestas Signor Giancarlo demanded now paled in comparison to the immense resale value his works would command in a decade’s time. This would be one of your best investments as a mere lady with no imperial wealth.

“Fifty celestas for this Apollo and Daphne sculpture seems a fair price,” you mused, scrutinizing each exquisite detail of the remarkable artwork. The sculpture was truly a masterpiece and very much deserving of admiration, which was why in your past life, it was highly coveted by The Venera for its sheer magnificence. However, you refrained from showering the Signor with excessive praise. To do so would only awaken him to the true value of his creations, and he could potentially inflate his prices beyond your budget. Thus, you maintained an air of indifference as you regarded the middle-aged sculptor. “It would make a suitable addition to our garden,” you casually added. “I shall purchase it.”

“My Lady!” protested Milena, but you silenced her with a gesture.

“In addition, I would like to acquire the Ecstasy of Saint Teresa and a selection of your cherubic sculptures,” you continued, disregarding Milena’s objections and the delighted expression on Maestro Giancarlo's face. “Pray, how much would the entire collection amount to?”

It was as if he had stumbled upon a treasure trove. The Signor’s eyes glistened with tears of joy as he responded to you. “Lady de Roma! What a blessing you have bestowed upon me,” he exclaimed, leaving you sympathetic towards his years of unacknowledged artistry. “The collection would fetch two-hundred celestas.”

Your maid, filled with concern, cried out in protest. “Preposterous! This is a swindle!”

Again, 200 celestas was a trifling sum compared to its prospective worth. Moreover, it was a price that would not significantly dent your finances as a noble lady. However, if you acquiesced to his initial offer without negotiation, he might infer that you would readily purchase any of his other works at its highest prices.

It was a simple game of chess, and he was merely one of your pawns.

“A hundred and fifty celestas,” you countered, maintaining a steely gaze on Maestro Giancarlo as you made your bargain. “Take it or leave it.”

The man voiced his objection, nonetheless. “But My Lady, I have dedicated weeks to crafting each piece.”

Being ten steps ahead, you already anticipated his response, so you offered a compromise. “Yes, yet two hundred for a handful of pieces seems excessive. I will increase it to a hundred and seventy-five. Do we have an accord?”

“But—”

“Two hundred celestas,” you declared firmly, “on the condition that you add a few more cherubim to my collection.”

In the end, he agreed to your offer with an air of triumph as if he had hit the jackpot. He penned your receipt with a sense of satisfaction, believing he had outwitted you with his inflated price when, unbeknownst to him, he had just sold pieces worth roughly two-hundred thousand celestas. The clear winner in this exchange was you, though you kept that fact strictly concealed. Your strategy to amass personal wealth would remain a secret to all, even if Milena thought you had lost your mind paying such a sum for the work of a struggling artist.

And you did not plan to stop there. Your next task was to visit Pietro De Luca, a renowned painter from your past life who had risen to prominence during your time as empress. Like the sculptor, this man was yet to achieve fame during the future period of artistic renaissance. He was the one who painted you and your husband’s infamous portrait at the palace. Unfortunately, though, luck was not on your side when you visited the painter that day, as the man had apparently journeyed to Constantia and would not return for another fortnight.

Ah, well. There would always be another opportunity.

“My Lady,” spoke Milena, standing beside you as your father’s men loaded the sculptures into the spare carriage. “I never imagined the day would come when you would take an interest in sculptures. When did you develop an eye for art?”

To tell her the truth, you cared little for its artistic merit. Your sole concern was its value and the wealth it would bring you in a decade’s time. You could never reveal that fact to Milena, so you offered an excuse instead. “They make for lovely decorations, do they not? They would certainly add to the opulence of the estate.”

Your sentence was abruptly interrupted as a pair of playing children collided with you, causing your hood to slip down and reveal your face. The mother of the children, instead of offering an apology, was too stunned to realize that you were a noblewoman from the capital. They were clearly of lower status than commoners; they were beggars, clad in tattered garments and bearing grimy faces. Your heart twinged with pity, especially upon seeing the mother cradling a baby in her arms.

A poor infant. Almost instinctively, your hand flew to your belly as memories flooded your mind of the baby you nearly had in your past life. It was Satoru’s child, the future emperor of the empire, the sole heir to the imperial Gojou lineage. Yet, he refused to acknowledge it as his own. What would have happened to your child if he had lived? The bittersweet recollection clenched at your gut.

“Please, my lady,” pleaded the impoverished woman, “Any food or clothing would be a blessing.”

To think of it, in your past life, you realized that the commoners harbored resentment towards you for your extravagant lifestyle. None of the luxuries you enjoyed as empress were shared with the masses of the Caelum Empire. They remained trapped in poverty while you reveled in comfort, completely disconnected from their reality. It was no wonder you had incurred the wrath of Goddess Fortuna and Archangel Raphael.

And now, overwhelmed by compassion, you motioned for Milena to offer 50 celestas to the woman, who graciously accepted your gift. The sum would suffice for six months' worth of food supplies. Though you wished you could give more, your wealth was not infinite as the daughter of a duke. Nevertheless, it was the gesture that mattered, was it not?

As you and Milena continued to stroll through the plaza, you could sense the incredulous glances she would cast your way. It must have been strange for her to witness your kindness towards commoners, let alone your act of charity by giving away months worth of allowance to strangers.

“Is it the tea I served you the other morning, my lady?” she inquired, concerned. “You seem to be behaving differently, as if you have transformed into a completely different person.”

In your previous life, Milena’s straightforward comments would have resulted in punishment from you. However, in this timeline, you merely chuckled with her. “Life’s too fleeting to be evil all the time.”

Like an eager puppy, she nodded enthusiastically. “Indeed, my lady. Indeed! It brings me joy to see you embracing life in a different manner.”

If only she knew the hardships you had endured in the past, molding you into someone who viewed the world through a different lens in this present time. She would have been glad to see you become an empress, but she would be horrified to know the amount of souls that died by your hands alone.

You were lost in contemplation throughout the afternoon, and you wandered aimlessly around the city, immersing yourself fully in the lives of the common folk until dusk began to descend. Just as you were about to make your way back to your carriage, a larger one passed by, adorned in white and blue with the imperial insignia proudly displayed.

Today heralded the return of Princess Savina from The Providence. She was the sister of Crown Prince Satoru and the infamous Caelum princess who had tragically perished alongside her lover, Prince Megumi of Astheryn.

Her tragic demise was also the beginning of Satoru’s descent to tyranny.

That could only mean one thing: the true story was just about to unfold.

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You felt unsettled.

Princess Savina’s return marked not only a significant turning point, but also served as a stark reminder of the events that had unfolded in your previous life. Her tragic death had set off a chain reaction of calamities. After her illicit romance with an Astherean prince was exposed, a devastating war broke out and claimed the deaths of innocent citizens. Shortly after, the prince and princess' dead bodies were discovered in the Sistine Chapel. While the conflict might have concluded with an armistice, it was also the catalyst for Satoru’s path to seizing the throne with your helping hand. It was this very moment that laid the groundwork for Satoru's eventual usurpation of the throne.

Soon after, Satoru’s ascension to power would be imminent, with you standing by his side as his chosen empress. He would eliminate every traitor you had identified, while you exacted vengeance upon those who had wronged you prior to your rise to an imperial status. Yet, despite your unwavering loyalty and dedication, Satoru never truly trusted or loved you as his wife, ultimately leading to his betrayal in the end.

How could you stand still and watch history repeat itself?

You had to have a plan. You had to devise a scheme wise enough to change the course of your life. And perhaps, befriending Savina might be the key. She might have a chance to live if her affair with the Astherean prince remained undiscovered, averting the tragic chain of events that led to her demise. That way, Satoru would not harbor the desperation to usurp his parents. He would not ask you to orchestrate a coup, and make you his pathetic empress in return. In this life, you resolved to be repulsive enough in Satoru's eyes that he would be utterly disinterested in you, even if you were the last person on Earth.

The plan seemed logical, yet simultaneously absurd. In your past life, you had strived with all your might to become Satoru's wife, yet now, you were doing everything in your power to avoid such a fate. Is this naught but a cruel game? You could not suppress a wry chuckle as you stared at your reflection in the mirror, the bright moonlight casting an illuminated glow upon you. It was enchanting yet horrifying at the same time to see a faint scar encircling your neck, a grim mark that reminded you of your previous fate as a beheaded empress. You were still uncertain whether you were the only one who could see the scar, but Milena had never seemed to notice it during your bathing rituals. Perhaps the scar would only manifest as a visible reminder of sin, and would fade with virtuous deeds. Your recent act of generosity towards the beggar, however, seemed to carry no weight in mitigating your previous unethical dealings with Maestro Giancarlo. It appeared that genuine acts of kindness were only truly rewarded when performed with sincerity, while any hint of selfishness nullified their positive effects.

You acknowledged that virtuousness was not inherently ingrained within you. While avoiding marriage to Satoru was your primary objective, the prospect of a life dedicated to serving the common people was not your desired path. As long as you refrained from inflicting suffering upon others, you saw no necessity in accumulating merits through good deeds. After all, your sole task, as directed by Archangel Raphael, was to atone for your sins, not to become a paragon of virtue. You were no saint.

Three days had quickly passed since that night, and this day held a special occasion that had your heart pumping heavily the morning you woke up. Today, as accurate as your previous life, was the day of The Mass of Annunciation—a holy Catholic mass to celebrate when Archangel Gabriel appeared to the Virgin Mary and announced to her that she would conceive and give birth to the son of God, Jesus.

The grandeur of the event was undeniable, and attendance was obligatory for all noble families of Caelum, given the devout nature of the empire’s populace. Moreover, the presence of the imperial Gojou family ensured the importance of the occasion. Yet, for you, stepping into Saint Peter's Basilica once more stirred nerves as memories flooded back from your time as an empress. Now, as a 20-year-old daughter of a duke, you entered the basilica beside your brother, Aristide, whose pompous demeanor drew the gaze of all noble ladies present. After all, he was the empire’s second most eligible bachelor after Satoru himself. In your first life, your brother had wed Lady Serena, and your relationship had soured when you declared him a traitor and accused him of treachery against your then-husband. Although Satoru had spared his life, he had decreed Aristide’s eventual exile, wary of the threat posed by a brother-in-law with ambitions for the throne.

The stark contrast between your current standing and your former eminence as an empress was palpable as you made your first public appearance in high society since your regression. No longer did heads turn and knees bend at the sight of you. Instead, you were regarded as a mere noblewoman, approaching the age where marriage prospects dwindled, and whispered rumors branded you as a woman with an unsavory fixation on the crown prince. It was a humbling experience, to say the least, and a reminder of the depths to which your reputation had fallen.

Despite no longer holding the title of empress, you spared no effort in your attire. You carried yourself with the same regal air, a testament to your upbringing and the lavish lifestyle afforded by your father. Your family not only produced the bravest knights, but also supported a prosperous weaponry business, which reflected your ostentatious way of life. That was why you had the means to wear a sumptuous gown of rich burgundy brocade, intricately woven with gold thread and adorned with delicate floral embroidery. You made certain that the modest neckline gracefully covered your neck to hide your revolting scar, while layers of sheer chiffon formed a voluminous skirt that cascades to your feet. Your hair was secured in a crespine, a delicate net-like veil adorned with lustrous pearls and sparkling gemstones, while around your neck hung a simple yet elegant silver cross pendant to add a touch of reverence.

In your eyes, you considered yourself a modest and conservative lady who was hesitant to reveal too much skin. However, your brother found it laughable, jesting that you might as well become a nun given how covered your chest and neckline were. He remarked that it was unusual for you to dress in such a reserved manner, as you had previously taken the initiative to wear attire that would attract Satoru’s manly gaze.

“Announcing the arrival of His and Her Imperial Highness, followed by His and Her Imperial Majesties—the luminaries of our empire.”

As the imperial family arrived at the basilica, a hushed anticipation suddenly fell over the gathered crowd. The air was filled with a palpable sense of reverence and awe as the imposing façade of the basilica welcomed the presence of the empire’s highest authority.

First to enter were Princess Savina and Crown Prince Satoru, the heir and heiress to the throne, their regal presence commanding attention as they made their way down the grand procession. Princess Savina was resplendent in a gown of shimmering silk and a coronet as her headdress, while there he came… Your then-husband. Your ex-lover. Your betrayer. Crown Prince Satoru, clad in a tailored doublet of rich blue velvet, projecting an air of quiet strength and authority as he stared straight ahead towards the altar like he did in your past life. You had almost forgotten how princely handsome he was when he was younger, and you could not stop your frenzied heart as you felt somersaults in your stomach. No, you must not! It was all in the mind. It was all a matter of mind games, and this might be the first time you had seen Satoru again in real life after your regression, but he was still a man who had ordered to kill you. You should never be fooled by his luscious white hair and sky blue eyes.

“In love?” whispered your brother, a smirk visible on his face.

“Out of love,” you corrected and remained resolute in your goal not to get swayed by Satoru’s charm again. “I feel not a single thing.”

Aristide scoffed at that. “Yet your eyes shine at the sight of him?”

As the imperial siblings took their places at the head of the procession, the assembled congregation bowed their heads in deference as the imperial family proceeded to their seats and their every movement watched with rapt attention by the gathered nobility. Following closely behind were the Emperor and Empress, the reigning monarchs of the empire, their presence heralded by the sound of trumpets and the swell of sacred music.

You chose not to bicker with your brother throughout the holy mass, although there were times you were tempted to cuss him out. He seemed to be thoroughly enjoying himself, ridiculing your attire and insisting that Satoru would never pay you any attention. He took great pleasure in reminding you of the prince’s supposed revulsion towards your obsession, when little did your foolish brother know, you would be glad if that was in fact true.

And the ironic thing was, in your previous life, you had done Aristide a great favor by marrying Satoru. This freed up Lady Serena for marriage, despite her supposed status as the crown prince’s favorite. You used to despise Serena out of sheer jealousy, while Aristide had always desired her, which was why your brother had urged you to win Satoru's affections to pave the way for him to marry the lady he so coveted.

In this life, you decided not to interfere in any potential relationship between Satoru and Serena, regardless of your brother’s wishes. You acknowledged that Serena would make a far superior empress than yourself, as she possessed enough empathy in her to prioritize the welfare of her people and avoid endangering them. She was not the type of person who would willingly bring about the destruction of an entire nation, nor would she welcome the spread of plague out of mere vengeance against her husband.

With Satoru out of your plans, Savina then came into the picture. You had to speak and get close to her—close enough for her to trust you and befriend you, but not attached enough for you to act like her older sister. You would only be here to guide her and avoid her from the path of her downfall in order to save yourself. Savina was the key.

Savina… Savina would be the one to save you in this life. Savina was your only hope.

As the mass concluded, some of the nobles began to disperse, while others congregated in a corner to converse with the Archbishop. Your sole intention at that moment was to approach Savina, allowing your feet to lead you to the direction of where she was. But just before you reached her, you stumbled upon a very significant individual who had played a pivotal role in bringing about your suffering in your previous life.

It was none other than Satoru’s advisor, Lord Maximillian.

“Lady Y/N, it is a delight to see you,” the man greeted, but you could see right through him. He never liked you now and in the past. In fact, his hatred stemmed from his peculiar fixation towards the imperial family. He may look younger presently, but he was still an old and rotten base-born cur.

Maximilian was the one responsible for introducing Satoru to the prophecy, and he was also the individual who whispered your demise into your husband's ears. Given his role in your past suffering, why should you afford him any respect?

“It is rather surprising you had not burned inside the church,” you remarked acerbically, eliciting widened eyes from the nobleman. “Yet it does beg the question, Lord Maximilian, what brings a heretic like yourself inside a Catholic church?”

Within the confines of the basilica, or at least the space surrounding you, a variety of reactions unfolded. A noble lady shot you a disapproving stare for your perceived rudeness towards a man of higher nobility, while your brother regarded you with a mixture of astonishment and concern as if you had gone mad. Conversely, a young nobleman appeared impressed by your audacity.

As for Maximilian, it was rather amusing to observe the crimson hue that spread across his face. You anticipated his retort and braced yourself for his comeback. “Why, you foul-mouthed wench!” he exclaimed, his voice laden with indignation. “Who do you think you are speaking to?!”

You grinned triumphantly at your success in offending him. “You should be ashamed to show yourself in front of God—” you began, relishing the opportunity to further provoke him, but was cut short when a formidable presence appeared before you.

The arctic white hair, the crystal blue eyes, the smooth ivory skin, the towering build from years of training…

“Your Highness,” Maximilian immediately curtsied before the prince, while you remained frozen in place. Like a statue. “Your Highness, this young lady is preposterous!”

On one hand, Satoru’s eyes bathed in humor as he observed the interaction between you and Maximilian. This was the first time you two had faced each other since the regression, and the emotions stirred within you were still raw. You were husband and wife when you last saw each other. You could still remember the last time you saw him the night before your execution, when he visited you in the West Tower and asked you to live a solitary life in the countryside as his mistress. Your heart seemed to constrict in your chest, yet simultaneously, it pounded loudly with anticipation.

“Max, it seems the lady has labeled you a heretic,” the Crown Prince remarked, his gaze unwavering as he focused on you. “Can you substantiate your accusations, Lady Y/N?” he inquired, prompting you to defend your claims.

Satoru, you fool. If you were to reveal what happened in your previous life, he would be an accomplice to the crime. He carried the highest position in the empire at the time, yet he was a supporter of heresy himself. That alone would have brought him into Inquisition.

You could not think straight. Oh for heaven’s sake! You could not focus. Could not breathe. Could not speak. Your thoughts were flooded by memories of your past life; of Satoru claiming you were useless for being barren, of him refusing to acknowledge your child, of him planning to wed another woman after the years you had devoted to him, of him ruthlessly ordering your execution.

Of him never saying he loved you.

Before you realized it, tears welled up in your eyes. You were utterly unprepared to encounter him today, let alone engage in conversation, especially while the wounds from your past were still so raw. Some wounds had yet to heal, and the mere sight of him brought them flooding back.

And with your unexpected reaction, his expression softened and morphed into one of genuine concern. Why? Why was he suddenly concerned now when he spent years of being an ungrateful husband? His smile had long vanished, replaced by a look of worry after seeing you on the verge of breaking down. However, before the tears could spill, you turned and fled, unable to bear the thought of crying in front of a man like him.

“Hold on, Lady Y/N—!”

His voice called out to you, but you refused to look back. No, you were determined to only keep moving forward, to distance yourself from the man who had caused you so much pain. Therefore, you hastily fled the basilica, seeking solace amidst the throng of nobles who were crowding outside.

As you ran, tears streamed down your face unchecked, yet you let it be. The ache in your heart was unbearable, knowing that the man you had once loved so deeply now had the power to hurt you all over again. Only when you found a secluded spot beneath a stone pine tree did you collapse, clutching your chest as you recalled the face of the man who had caused you so much anguish.

I despise you, Satoru.

“How could you betray me like that?” you murmured, tears staining your cheeks as you sobbed beneath the tree, feeling utterly pathetic.

Suddenly, a shadow fell over you, and as you looked up, you saw a man with dark hair clad in shining armor. His smile was gentle as he approached and crouched down beside you.

“My lady.” It was the Knight Commander, Yuuta, offering you his handkerchief. “Is everything alright?”

#series: lltv #satoru gojou x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x y/n #jjk x reader #gojo satoru x you #gojo x reader

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delirious-donna · 1 month

Text

Morning Epiphany [Higuruma Hiromi]

an: cockwarming with Hiromi was suggested to me when I opened my requests/ideas for this wonderful man and I immediately leapt on it because YES!

pairing: Higuruma Hiromi x female reader

warnings: cockwarming, reader being the teeniest bit mean to poor Hiro, whining and whimpering from the lawyer…

Masterlist

“Hiro… it’s so early, why are you in here?”

The sun had barely begun to crest, the earliest rays warming the bedspread that was surprisingly empty. A hand reaching out to your husband’s side confirmed the first stirring of your consciousness, he wasn’t here, and if he wasn’t here then there were only two places he could be.

Despite the lure of sleep trying to coax you back into the cozy haze of dreams, you couldn’t possibly sleep when your other half was missing, and so early too. The blinking lights of the alarm clock signalled the hour and helped to push your feet to the rug by the bed, stretching and pouting.

The bathroom was empty, there was no remnant of steam from the scalding hot showers he took every morning and you scowled at your dishevelled reflection in the mirror. Your hair stuck up at odd angles, eyes puffy from how quickly you got out of bed and your sleepshirt—an old well-worn sweatshirt of Hiromi’s—was creased beyond belief.

Your steps took you towards the office and the scent of freshly brewed coffee that wafted enticingly into your nose. The door creaked on antique hinges, your missing man turning with his brow furrowed from having his concentration broken. The expression shifted into a smile almost immediately, a sheepish smile at that.

“Did I wake you? I didn’t mean to,” he apologised sincerely, settling back in his chair to stretch his arms up and over his head. The wide sleeves of his black t-shirt, now faded to grey at best, pushed back and your eyes dipped to the hint of black happy trail that peeked from beneath the hem with a sigh of appreciation.

Hiromi couldn’t help but chuckle. Hastily he fixed his face with a look of admonishment, one sleek eyebrow rising near to his hairline. “Eyes up here, Mrs Higuruma.”

“Sorry—wait. Why am I apologising? It’s the arse crack of dawn, what are you doing up let alone working?”

His eyes drooped, nervously fidgeting with the pen on his desk.

Before he could respond, you grabbed the back of his chair and scooted it out further from the desk to his confusion. The lines wrinkling his forehead smoothed out when your knee bracketed his hip, followed by the other until you sat straddling his lap. Your fingers ran through the limp strands of the hair hanging near into his eyes, humming at the glorious warmth of his body melding into yours.

“Epiphany moment?” Hiromi offered uncertainly. He was too preoccupied by the soft squish of your hips and backside, hands full of the meat of you, and desperately trying to will his cock not to harden any further. To his disappointment and your triumph, he was failing miserably.

You planted teasing kisses to his jawline, barely-there touches of your lips until you were decorating his throat and prominent Adam’s apple with wet little marks. “Don’t let me stop you, Hiro… you can pretend I’m not here. I’ll be as quiet as a mouse.”

He dropped his chin, staring at you with suspicious disbelief. Swallowing thickly when you offered your best most innocent looking smile, laying your cheek on his shoulders and drawing one of his hands away from where he was pawing at your rump. “Work, if that’s what you want to do.”

Hiromi groaned and looked skyward as if some answer would arrive if he begged for it hard enough. He knew this game well enough, and not once had he won. He didn’t fancy his odds on this particular day either.

It started out fairly uneventful. Hiromi managed to refocus his attention towards the computer screen and the ruling he had been in the middle of reading when you appeared, but soon enough the words no longer made sense. Your fingertips grazed his chest, delicate scrapes of your nails across the cotton hiding his nipples and it was maddeningly distracting.

Instead of calling it out, knowing it would only result in you doubling down your efforts, he exhaled through his nose and shifted in his seat to give some respite to the erection chafing the waistband of his pyjama trousers. Immediately, he knew it was the wrong move. Your pelvis sunk closer to him, rubbing more friction into his aching length and he swore he could smell your arousal hanging heavy in the air.

He did his best to ignore your naughty fingers moving between you, to pretend you weren’t pulling him free and playing in the mess of precum leaking from his tip. His fingers tightened around the mouse in his hand, the sound of plastic groaning from the onslaught of pressure enough to make him blink and loosen his hold.

“You will be the death of me, love.”

The loose fist around his shaft paused. “Keep working or I’ll go back to bed… alone.” You were slick with arousal, the lack of panties leaving a dark stain on the crotch of Hiromi’s pyjamas that didn’t go unnoticed by either of you. The temptation to lift to your knees and sink down onto his cock was building, but you couldn’t reward him so readily for his leaving you in bed this morning. Not until he was a little more desperate, and by the hue of the rash at his neck and dappling of his cheeks, there was still a little ways to go.

Hiromi was failing fast, and he knew you were waiting to pounce and worsen his predicament. Worsen was hardly the right term given how eager he was to be swallowed by your plush velvet-lined walls, but since you were insistent that he continue to work, he wasn’t going to be rewarded until he did. The pen scratched across the surface of his notepad, the ink drying in shaky lines whilst you cupped his balls and rolled them between your fingers and thumb. Honestly, he wasn’t even sure what he was writing made sense but if it gave the illusion of cooperation, he’d write utter gibberish all day long.

You held out as long as you could manage, the burning desire palpable on the dewy apples of your cheek and the heat of your breasts hidden beneath your husband’s sweatshirt. At long last you teased his pulsing cock between your folds, tapping the sticky cockhead against your pert little clit and finally lining him up at your entrance. The muscles contracted around him, that first inch a delicious stretch that pushed you to your limits not to slam right down to his fat balls and cry out from the bliss.

The descent was drawn out, testing your patience and resolve to the limits, as well as forcing stuttering breaths out of Hiromi’s heaving chest. You didn’t chastise the return of his hands, the adoration sweeping through his palms as they raised the hem of your sweatshirt so he could see himself disappearing into your pussy. He fisted the fabric, grasping at your hips with eyes heavy with lust and you simply had to taste him, even only for a moment.

Your lips crashed atop his, tongue licking over the seam of his bottom lip and pressing into his mouth to swallow the whine that crawled from his throat. It echoed inside your head, the urge to roll your hips over and over until he filled your belly with his seed burned like a white-hot flame. Your skin itched, fingers curled into claws that dove into Hiromi’s thick head of hair and you nearly didn’t break your kiss, nearly were consumed by the passion you felt in your heart.

“Hmmmpff.” Hiromi wailed when you finally came to some semblance of your senses, your pelvis flush against his but no longer moving. He stared at you in longing, watching whilst you swiped a finger over your kiss-swollen lips and sucked the remnants of his spit from the pad. The smile you offered was purely saccharine, and his throat itched with the need to bounce you on his cock until you gushed all over him and the chair.

“Please?” He asked on a whisper, aquiline nose nudging into your cheek.

“You have your epiphany moment to deal with mister lawyer, c’mon… you can last a little longer. Let me warm you and once I’m satisfied, I’ll ride you until your legs want to give out,” you purred, mouth at the shell of his ear and leaving a kiss at the bone just behind.

Silently, he begged and pleaded for mercy on his tainted soul, as if some divine intervention was likely to intercept, he knew that wouldn’t be the case. You were the only divine deity in his world and your determination to give him a taste of his own medicine for abandoning the sacred ritual of morning cuddles was written across your features.

A sweat broke out across his brow as he studied the lines of text on the screen without recognising a single word. A drip of arousal dribbled from the spot you united, dribbling over the seam of his balls to stain the leather seat beneath. You clenched, and he crushed the pen in his hand, palm filled with tiny plastic shards that speared his skin.

“Darling… light of my life—I will do anything, anything, if you’ll just ride me,” he whimpered, discarding the busted pen and grabbing up your hands to kiss earnestly across your fingertips then knuckles. Hiromi was barely restraining the buck of his hips, the warmth almost too much wrapped around his dick but without the friction and rhythm of movement… it wasn’t enough.

Your resolve was being tested once more. The subtle wobble of his lower lip and the sincere longing in his whisky-smoked eyes cracked the shell of your conviction. Easing forward in one languid roll of your hips earned you the most delightful and pitiful whimper you had heard in a long time. His head fell back against the headrest of his chair, eyes screwed shut whilst you felt him twitch within your walls. He might just cum like this if you didn’t do something, and actually, you wouldn’t mind that in the slightest.

Never more had you enjoyed cockwarming Hiromi than at this moment, and you vowed to draw it out as long as he could endure.

“Fuck, Hiro… you feel so good. So warm and snug,” you cooed, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and nuzzling into him more. “Five more minutes…”

#delirious writes #higuruma hiromi #higuruma x reader #hiromi x reader #higuruma hiromi x reader #higuruma smut #hiromi smut #higuruma hiromi smut #jjk smut #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader

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starkeyisthelastname · 3 months

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Rafe roughly fingering virgin!reader 😊

(I see this as Rafe season 3 episode 7 at the party. So imagine you were Sofia in that moment 💦)

He would invite you over to a party at Tannyhill now that he ran the house. You’d be shy as you walked through the crowd of unfamiliar people until you saw him talking to a shorter man with the same buzzcut. You didn’t want to interrupt the conversation, getting ready to turn away when you heard his voice call you.

“Hey. You made it.” His voice soft as he got up from where he was sitting. You noticed the smirk on his friend’s face, making you blush at the sudden attention you were getting. Especially since you were only in a small bikini, the thin coverup not doing much to hide anything.

He towered over you in height as he stepped closer. His cologne making you weak in the knees as he wrapped his arm around your lower back. He took his Ray-Bans off with his free hand, those stunning ocean eyes now staring down at you. “You want something to drink?” He asked, his manners and hospitality being a plus.

The music bumped throughout the mansion as Rafe held your hand, leading you to the kitchen. You were new to the Outer Banks, not knowing how popular the last name Cameron really was. Everyone there greeted him as if he was royalty, making you feel special that you could be wrapped on his arm.

“Only very important people are aloud up here.” Rafe told you as he led you through the upstairs balcony away from everyone else. The way he said that made your heart race, the heat going straight to your virgin core.

Your tongues lazily moved together as you both sat against the couch, his hands traveling further down to your aching sex. You weren’t sure if it was the poorly mixed drink or he really just had this much of an effect on you, but you found yourself shyly spreading your legs. The dark chuckle against your lips as he pulled back made you let out a kitten like whimper.

“You want me to play with your pussy, pretty girl?” His voice about the sexiest thing you ever heard.

You found yourself nodding, finding it hard to form the words to tell him that you were still a virgin. It wasn’t exactly something you blurted out on the regular. You just really hoped it wouldn’t turn Rafe away, he definitely knew what he was doing. “I- I’ve never been touched down there before.” You whispered softly.

His hand stopped for a moment, an amused laugh coming out as he smirked against your cheek. “Shit…” His voice drawing out into a low groan. His hand pulled your bikini bottoms to the side roughly, holding the material back as he smacked your cunt hard. You let out a squeak, not expecting that same hand to shove two fingers down your throat without warning. Gagging at the intrusion, his left arm pulled you onto his lap.

“Get those fingers wet, slut.” Rafe’s low tone in your ear.

You whimpered around them, sucking them into your mouth like your life depended on it. You wanted to be such a good girl for him, doing quite literally anything as long as he was the one it could be with. His fingers abruptly pulled out, shoving themselves into your virgin hole. You let out a gasp, your toes curling at the roughness.

“Rafe- too much.” You squeal out, his digits thick as he thrusted them in.

His ring and middle finger pushed through your tight hole, his knuckle hitting your cunt at a brutal pace when he slid them back in. “Hey, you wanna know something? My dick is huge.” He said, his left hand now coming up to grip your throat. “This is nothing compared what I’m about to do to this virgin cunt.” He spat, the gentleman now gone.

You cried out, pussy clenching around his fingers as he fucked them into you at a brutal pace. His hand was pressing against your throat, your brain fuzzy as the oxygen was being taken from you. Your poor body was betraying you, squeezing his digits as your pathetic pussy began to squirt everywhere.

“There she is. Make that pretty pussy cry for me.” He groaned into your ear, fingers slapping your sopping hole to make more gush out.

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron smut #rafe cameron x reader #rafe concepts #rafe coded #rafe core #rafe cameron prompt #rafe cameron blurb #drew starkey #drew starkey x reader #drew starkey smut #obx #obx smut

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azullumi · 2 months

Text

“i wanna be yours” ; aventurine

premise — but this is what friends do, right? they slow dance together in the living room while saying sweet nothings ; inspired by this ask (though i never really followed the entire idea, my hands has minds of its own)

pairing — aventurine (w/ gender-neutral reader)

tags — fluff (with a little bit of angst at the end), friends but wanting more type of relationship, all written in reader’s pov, not proofread, 1.2k words ; one-shot

tagging — @toorurs (hi boo)

note — i keep on comparing aventurine to the sun i dont even know why i do it. 9 DAYS LEFT UNTIL HIS BANNER

“care to dance?” the languid, lazy silence draws itself away as the honey-haired man spoke, offering you his hand as he did. the light humming of the music in the background keeps the night awake and alive, the softness of the notes intertwined in the air that settles in your home.

you stare at his hand for a moment, admiring the glistening bracelet on his wrist before you answer, tone meek and hesitant: “i don’t know how to dance.” you expected him to laugh at you for not knowing a simple and common concept; dancing was a form of art known to many and yet, you are unfamiliar with it.

but aventurine simply smiles at you and takes your hand to hold on his own, gently pulling you up from your seat and making you stumble on your feet—however, he catches you and doesn’t let you fall to the ground. you are only met with the warmth of his body and the feeling of his unoccupied hand resting on the small of your back.

“you could have warned me before you did that.” you huffed, although you weren’t exactly reprimanding him.

“i still caught you, didn’t i?” the man answers in a gentle tone as he begins to sway you to the rhythm of the song (the melody wraps itself around your form like the cradle of a warm blanket), a familiar tune that plays in your living room and now you are listening to it as you—no, as he dances and guides your movements. you try to follow him albeit like a clumsy child and silence trailed behind your steps as none of you spoke, only wallowing in this moment between you and him.

(his hand is warm against yours, fingers lacing with each other like two puzzle pieces meant to fit together. you have never known how gentle he can be, have never known the warmth of his hands and the softness of his palms up until this moment. maybe it’s the feeling of his touch that’s making you drunk and aeons, you’ve never thought of yourself as a selfish person but something in the way he’s holding you makes you crave for more.)

“focus,” he whispers to your ear, catching you completely off-guard when his breath tickles your skin, “you’re supposed to look at me, not at the ground.”

you compose yourself, bringing your gaze to his face instead of the marble floors that seem to spin as you move, “i was watching my feet so i won’t accidentally step on you.”

“i don’t mind if you do, all i wish is for you to look at me and me only.” he speaks so gently, so delicately as if something akin to despair hangs on the tangled threads of his words. you study his face, looking at the lines on his features and trying to look for the gap of his expression—you could never tell what he was thinking, could never decipher the meaning he skillfully weaves to the words that he utters (you wish you had the ability to look into minds, perhaps you would have known him).

he notices your silence and smiles, “can’t a poor man have their own wishes?”

you take a moment once more to answer, “i didn’t say that.” well, in fact, you weren’t saying anything. the sound of laughter slips past his lips and perhaps, if you didn’t see the way his eyes formed into a crescent and his expression contorts one into amusement, you would have mistook the sound as part of the song.

“you should see the way you look right now.”

you raised your eyebrow at him, confusion evident in your face, “what do you mean? is there dirt on my face?”

aventurine pulled you closer to him, movements coming to a stop as you two stood still. his face is leaning down to yours, lips merely inches away from each other, and your thoughts are in a jumble as if your mind was a library of cluttered and disorganized bookshelves.

“no, i’m saying you look lovely tonight.” he whispers—and you swear, you see his eyes look down to your lips for a moment—, his voice low as if you’re the only one who’s supposed to hear and not the moon that casts its curious glow on his skin, not the stars that watched your every move, but you and just you.

(you’re left with nothing but silence and warmth in your cheeks, not knowing where to focus or even think about—the strong scent of his perfume or his words that repeatedly echoed inside your head.)

the golden-haired man doesn’t speak any further, continuing his slow dance with you in the comfort of your living room as he hums along to the melody. the night is heavy against your shoulders as the silver moonlight laid on the ground like spilled milk.

“it is quite simple, isn’t it? look, you’re able to follow.”

“aven, you’re doing all of the work.”

he slowly spins you around—the world looks slow and messy for you for a moment—before he answers, “barely.” he comes face to face with you and you don’t fail to notice the affection in his eyes when he meets your gaze.

“don’t look at me like that.” you wished he wouldn’t look at you in that way; something tugs at your heart and suffocates you.

“like what?”

“i don’t know.” hesitation follows your tone, broken and unsure, seemingly lost in an empty field full of directions. “like…” like you wanted me like a lover, you keep the words at your throat knowing you’ll choke on it one day. you don’t know how to say it, you don’t even know if you can say it. it was as if the ability to speak has been taken away from you.

the song came to its end and so was the dance.

“you should go to sleep, don’t stay up too much.” aventurine says, tucking a few loose strands of hair behind your ear before cupping your cheek and pressing a kiss on your forehead. he lets you go as soon as he parts his lips, stepping back to the distance the both of you once had before all of this happened, as if nothing occurred between you two, as if the words whispered against each other, the closeness, the intimacy were all just some silly imagination.

“are you leaving already?” you ask, your hand reaching out to tug at his sleeve as if you didn’t want him to go. you don’t even know what made you hold on to him, what made you want him to not want to leave.

the man who had the universe in his wake answers with warmth in his tone, “i can’t stay any longer.” he holds your hand and ushers you to remove your grasp on his sleeve. everything felt so different now, your thoughts were all so loud but you couldn’t dare to speak nor say something as you watched him turn away and leave—the sound of the door closing echoed throughout the corners of your home and you were left alone, in silence and in the cold.

but the comfort and warmth of his touch lingered on your skin—and you’ll remember it all; it will haunt you, follow your shadow everywhere you go, pulling on the hem of your shirt with the desperation of a dying man and you don’t know how to live knowing the way he held you on this night. how are you supposed to deal with the fact that his hands were as soft and warm as summer?

#honkai aventurine #aventurine #hsr aventurine #aventurine x reader #aventurine honkai star rail #honkai x you #honkai star rail x reader #honkai fluff #honkai imagines #honkai #honkai star rail #honkai x reader #star rail aventurine #aventurine x you #hsr x reader #hsr x you #hsr fluff #hsr #azul.writes

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