#.they have their own strengths that they play to. And they want to play to them well

[juletheghoul]

adversary

a/n: Merry Christmas and happy holidays! just jumping on to post some Joel, hopefully you enjoy! 💕 not beta’d and barely proofread, but thank you to @just-here-for-the-moment for taking a look- this ones for you!

Warnings; 18+ no minors, bit of an age gap, piv sex, dirty talk, Joel laying down the law and making sure you’re not in your head, allusions to past trauma, toxic relationship with Joel, but both parties like it- let me know if I missed any!

Pairing: Joel Miller x F!Reader

word count: 1k

reblogs are appreciated

Masterlist

-

Surviving in the world, as it stood, meant keeping your face unreadable, and your mouth shut.

When Tommy had arrived in Jackson, he’d been easy to accept. He’d been humble and grateful, hardworking and eager to cement his place. Quiet. Peaceful.

Joel was a different beast. He tested your limits, broke the façade that had been crafted with care and time and trauma. The mask you’d created for safety, for the good of the community, had come terrifyingly close to cracking under the strength of his gaze. 

Maria had been wary when he’d shown up, and who could blame her judging by the things Tommy had whispered to her in their dark hours, but then again she’d been wary of you too. 

She still was. Sort of. 

Mostly it was a distant respect, what she felt for you, what you imagined everyone in Jackson must feel for you, If how they treated you was anything to go by. You were content with this though. A peaceful, quiet life was more than anything you could have hoped for. When people averted their eyes from you, when they kept their conversations short and to the point, when they left you alone, you took it as a sign, took it as good fortune. In this world, you were lucky to have this. 

Your solitude was the first thing Joel threatened. It was the first thing he took, and it wasn’t the last. He also took the comforting silence of an empty, safe, house. 

He took your hard-won peace. 

“Open the door.” His voice slipped through the cracks in the door like smoke, raising your heartbeat, as well as your blood pressure. 

“I thought we agreed we wouldn’t do this again.” You opened the door, just a crack. 

“Go away, Joel.” 

“We never agreed on anythin’, don’t play dumb with me, woman, I saw you lookin’ at me this mornin’ just like I was lookin’ at you.” The toe of his boot slides just inside, stopping you from slamming the door in his face. 

“I don’t want you right now.” You crossed your arms, yet didn’t move. This was the game you always played, and he was wise to it now, so he laughed. 

“Yes you do, I can practically taste it.” It’s pitch black outside the house except for the glint in his eyes, he’s obviously in a good mood, which only sours yours further. “Let me in baby, I’m in a givin’ mood, let me be sweet to you.” His hand reaches through the crack in the door and strokes, petal-soft, at the skin of your arm. Instantly your body betrays you, blooms for him while outwardly, you seethe. 

“Come on darlin’,” His voice is warm honey now, “let me in so I can do all those things I know you like.” His towering frame presses closer, slipping through the widening crack in the door, and you let him.

-

A filthy moan slips past your mouth, and into his ego. 

“Such a good girl, takin’ this cock just how I need you to take it.” He swirls his hips, pressing deep enough to pull another moan despite the useless vow of silence you’d promised to no one except maybe your own pride. 

“Shut up-“ you pant with an embarrassing lack of any real bite, inwardly cursing him for how good it feels, while physically clutching at him harder. He laughs, slowing his movements down.

“You like it when I talk though, I can feel how fuckin’ wet you are right now, drippin’ all over—“ you pull him closer, kissing him in the foolish attempt to disguise the noises you couldn’t seem to stop making, as well as stop him from pouring more gasoline onto the fire he lit in your veins. 

He got the hint, blessedly. He was in a giving mood, being real sweet despite how disrespectfully he was fucking you. 

His skin slips against yours, sweatslicked and warm as he crushes you to the mattress with every heavy stroke, his cock is so hard you vaguely wonder if he’d been imagining this. That thought turned you on, to know that despite the usual aversion, the perpetual scowl on his face that he’d been craving you for god knows how long - it made him seek you out. Whether or not you wanted to be the object of his desire, you still didn’t quite know. 

Thoughts spiraled though and soon the moans turned into frustrated sighs. The inner conflict he embodied for you chased away the pleasure, replaced it with inadequacy, with that ever-present melancholy and anxiety that was the new normal in this world. You felt him stop, felt him pull away, pull out of you with a grunt and the sour feeling swells. He can sense you’re not in it anymore, resigned to have to shower and chase the orgasm once he’s gone you blindly reach for the blanket—

“Turn over, hands and knees.”

“What? I thought-“

“Do what I say. Turn over.” His tone is serious and unquestionable, and it lights you up from the inside, even though you’d never admit it to him.

Once you get into position his hands are heavier, rougher. A heavy crack lands on your ass and you gasp, shocked, distracted. He enters you in once brutal thrust, giving you no time to get accustomed before he’s pulling you up, your back meeting his chest. 

“There it is, gotta get you out of that pretty little head, fuck you dumb.” He pants the words in your ear, his fingers slipping between your legs to pinch your clit. “That’s it baby, feel that?” His words are clipped, one hand working between your legs while the other holds your breast possessively, keeping you pressed tight. 

All thoughts are knocked out of your head by the heavy stroke of his cock, mindless, euphoric, rhythmic and divine. Tighter and tighter the coil winds, a full body clench only inches away from the brainless buzz of pleasure and when his teeth sink into the curve of your shoulder it snaps. 

He grunts as your cunt squeezes him tight, clenching around his cock, milking him dry as he grinds himself deeper, as deep as he can. 

He says nothing as he dresses, nothing still as he walks down the stairs and out of your house. He never does, and as the blood cools and the exhaustion shoos away your consciousness, you vaguely wonder if you’d ever need him to.

-

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[femmeroll]

gamer sevika please 🙏

thank you for the req my love!! merry (late) xmas everyone !!! i hope you enjoy

sevika x fem reader

cw: hcs and a bit of smut

gamer!sevika loves to escape reality for a few hours on her games. she loves getting away to her magical game world where nothing really matters and just pretending she’s there for a bit.

gamer!sevika thinks her setup is cool as shit and gets really blushy when someone compliments it.

gamer!sevika is actually pretty bad at most video games at first. she has a hard time with the controller.

on a similar note, she crashes out over her games all the time. once she choked and lost a match for her whole team and snapped her controller in half. she doesn’t know her own strength. also loves to rage quit and then gets sad the next day when her progress didn’t save :(

gamer!sevika gets you to give stardew valley a try and you end up completing the community center within the first in-game year. you marry maru and sev gets really jealous. sevika marries hayley because she likes mean femmes

gamer!sevika absolutely melts when you fill up her water bottle or bring her a snack while she’s playing a game.

she loves having you around while she plays. sometimes she’ll sit you on her lap during a game so you can feel each other.

on that note…

if you’re feeling needy and need her attention, she’ll mute her mic and let you grind yourself into her thigh while she plays.

she’ll let you do just about anything while she plays. you want to get off? you can cum on her lap as much as you need to. you want to make her feel good? she’s got you underneath her desk, lapping her up as she beats levels. need something more than her thigh? she’ll let you bounce on all you want. she’ll even thrust up into you when her game is on a loading screen.

gamer!sevika almost passes out when you buy a costume and dress up as her favorite character. your little outfit is ripped off in seconds the moment she sees you.

im sorry this is short but i love you all so much also thank u for 500 follower!!! mwah mwah kisses

[lady-pug]

Written Between the Lines

Chapter VII - Fill Me With Love

Summary: After catching sight of you several times being a sweetheart towards different children, Aemond wishes for a babe of his own, to finally take a step further into growing your family, and he is hells bent on doing it tonight.

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Reader

Word count: 3,8k

Warnings: canon-typical incest (uncle-niece); smut, so minors DNI; oral sex (female receiving); p in v sex; fingering; switch!Aemond (in this chapter he is truly dom!Aemond); breeding kink

Notes: Okay, this was kind of rushed, but it is because I’m about to go on a trip until the new year and I didn’t want to end the year without updating this story. So here it! Please let me know what you think!!

Anyway, as always, if you spot any mistakes, please feel free to warn me and I’ll correct it right away, and feedback is always welcome and appreciated. Happy holidays, and I’ll see you all next year! Enjoy!

Next chapter | Previous chapter | Masterlist | Read on AO3

It was driving him mad. Absolutely downright insane. He didn’t know how much more of this he could take.

In all his years living inside the Red Keep in King’s Landing, Aemond had never realized how many children inhabited the castle along with everyone else. Most of the time the children, especially the babes, were kept separated from court, and even when the older ones did attend, they remained quiet because, as his mother had once told him many years ago, ‘children were meant to be seen, not heard’. 

Even then, he didn’t typically interact with most of the kids. Sure, he enjoyed the company of his sister’s children, Jaehaera in particular, but other than that he did not really speak to other people below adolescence. What he didn’t account for was how much you seemed to spend your time with children.

Everywhere he went you seemed to have a child not too far from you; either a babe in your arms, a toddler propped on your hip or a child clinging to your skirts, you seemed to attract every child in the vicinity. When you weren’t helping Rhaenyra with Visenya, cradling her close to your chest, you were teaching Aegon and Viserys how to bond with their dragons. You even started spending time with Helaena’s children; more than once he caught you in her chambers, playing with Jaehaerys or brushing Jaehaera’s hair, or bouncing Maelor in your arms. Sometimes he even saw you interacting with one of the servants’ children, giving them your undivided attention.   

The most unexpected for him, however, was what the sight of you with a child, whoever they were, made him feel. Anytime Aemond would lay eyes on you laughing and making silly faces towards a child, or consoling a crying infant his heart clenched and something in his stomach twisted. He couldn’t quite put his finger on it, couldn’t properly give this feeling a name, until the day he caught you bouncing Visenya in your arms, humming under your breath. A lullaby, he recognized, one his own mother used to sing to him many years ago. That’s when it hit him fullforce, the meaning behind the heat pooling low in his stomach. spreading to his chest, crawling up his neck and warming his cheeks. 

He was horny. 

Aemond was honestly taken aback by how turned on the thought of you with a child, more specifically, with his child made him feel. He felt his cock twitch at the image his mind conjured: you, carrying his child in your womb, stomach swollen and heavy. As your hums gave way to words, outright singing to your sister now, the image changed, now another child, a toddler, a mop of white hair atop their head and eyes so much like yours, sprawled at your side on a bench, head on your lap as you read to both them and the child still inside you, book propped on your prominent bump. The strength of the pleasure brought to him by the thought was so great he had to lean against the nearest wall in order not to fall over.

The two of you had been married for over a moon already and his seed had yet to take root, as the ladies in court insisted on reminding you, much to your visible displeasure. It wasn’t for lack of trying though, oh no, but sometimes these types of things take time, as Rheanyra reminded you once. But even her words could not prevent the disappointment that had taken over you once your moonsblood arrived a little over a sennight after the wedding. Aemond had never seen you this disappointed before, not even when your mother had scolded you after finding out you had kicked Aegon years before (even though he very much deserved it), and you had spent the rest of the day in quiet solitude. He had eventually found you sulking in the Keep’s library, thumbing at a book he knew you had already read, having skipped supper.

“Wife.” he had greeted “You were missed at dinner.”  

“I am not hungry.” you pouted, and had you not been thoroughly upset, he would have found it charming.

Sighing, he had taken a seat next to you, gently grabbing one of your hands and pulling it towards his lips. 

“We can try again.” he laid a soft kiss on your knuckles.

“I know. I just-” it was your turn to sigh then “I was just so hopeful.”

“I know. As was I.” his thumb started caressing the back of your hand “But we keep trying. We do not stop trying until I have fucked my seed so far into your womb it has no other choice but to take root.”

You chuckled at his antics, growing flustered at his crass words.

“And besides,” he placed a short yet hungry kiss upon your lips “it is not like the ‘trying’ part is displeasurable for either of us, if my memory serves me right. You were actually quite…” he mockingly paused, pretending to look for the right word “vocal about it last night.”

Although your cheeks were flaming with embarrassment, you had kissed him fiercely in return, not necessarily disagreeing with him. He then proceeded to take you right there in the library, with you bent over the hardwood table, the book you had been previously reading long forgotten. Aemond was sure grandmaester Orwyle had entered the room at some point but he couldn’t bring himself to care a single bit, too distracted by his cock nestled upon the damp warmth of your cunt.  

At the time he hadn’t realized how much the thought of you carrying his child impacted him, but now? It was all he could think about. It was a raw, almost primal need, one which set his blood aflame, like dragon fire. He wanted, no, needed it. At the same time, a softness enveloped him when such thoughts arose in his mind, him caressing your swollen stomach and whispering sweet nothings to your, his, unborn child; sleeping on his back with a tiny babe sprawled on his naked chest, right over his heart, one of his large palms over their back, covering the entirety of their little body and protecting them from the dangers of the world. 

It all came to a head one afternoon, his sparring session with Ser Criston running later than he predicted, causing him to miss lunch with you. So he set out to find you, intent on making up for his mistake, but he couldn’t find you anywhere inside the palace. After inquiring about your whereabouts to some of the servants they pointed him in the direction of the gardens. And the sight that greeted him almost knocked him off his feet.

You were sitting under the weirwood tree, your back against the harsh bark, Helaena slumped against the tree next to you, deep in slumber. Jaehaerys and Jaehaera laid at your side, both with a head laying against each of your thighs, while you cradled baby Maelor with one arm against your chest. Your free hand was interwoven in his niece’s soft locks, caressing her scalp. For a moment he figured all three children, like their mother, were asleep in your lap, and although that seemed to be the case for both his nephews, he soon heard Jaehaera’s soft, tiny voice speak up to you, her eyelids heavy and droopy.

“I ran into Lady Baratheon after tea.” she said “Me and brother were running in the halls and I bumped into her legs.” 

Aemond watched as your lips curled into a smirk, picturing the two children running around and causing mischief, much like the two of you once did in your youth.

“And what did she say?” you questioned.

“She went” and the little girl produced a scoffing sound, almost ridiculous coming from her “and said we should not be running, that we could hurt someone.”

It was your turn to scoff then, as if the notion that two small children could hurt a grown adult was ludicrous. 

“She looked angry and said I should stop behaving like that, that it was too un… unla…”

“Unladylike?” you supplied for her, your smirk no longer present, a gloom look crossing over your features.

“Yes, that!” she giggled, then her expression turned slightly sour “She said it is no wonder I am so q… qu…” 

“Queer?” you gritted out.

“Yes, that I am queer just like my mother.”

Aemond felt his blood boiling in his veins at the jab directed not only at his niece, but also at his sister. It was true that Helaena was different, had always been, but it never ceased to enrage him how the people, and mostly, the women on court would treat her. The younger ones would exclude her from their endeavors at best, and at worst they would pretend to be interested in her and then proceed to whisper foul things about her behind her back. The older ladies would often treat her like a child, infantilizing her and speaking to her in a sickeningly sweet and paused tone that he knew she loathed. It was one of the reasons he was so thankful for the way you treated his sister; unlike his mother, who pretended nothing was different about her, you acknowledged it and embraced Helaena’s differences, the things that make her who she is. He was glad that Helaena found a dear friend in you, not failing to notice that since your arrival at the Keep she had been visibly more relaxed and less lonely.

“Jaehaera.” he had barely noticed that your fingers had stilled their movement in her hair or that your expression had hardened “You know what you should do next time Lady Baratheon, or anyone for that matter, says something like that about you or your mother?” 

“What?”

Your previous smirk returned to your features then, mischief swimming in your eyes.

“You kick them in the shin.” you shook your head “Or better yet, you call for me and I will do it for you, that way you will not get in trouble.”

For a single, brief moment, Aemond could have sworn his heart ceased beating, were it not for the loud ringing in his ears. Warmth spread through his body, starting from his chest and travelling up his neck, to his cheeks heating up the tip of his ears, all the while that same blood boiled in his veins, traveling down and making his cock twitch.

For a fleeting moment he felt lousy for the reaction such a tender moment between you, his wife, and his beloved niece arose in him, but the feeling was brief, for the very next moment he was rushing to your shared chambers, like a man on a mission.

He was hells bent on getting you with child that very day, and the Seven be damned if they didn’t give him what he wanted.

Your afternoon spent with your good sister and her children left you feeling refreshed, regardless of the foul feeling your conversation with Jaehaera elicited in you. If you were being quite honest, some of the women in court irked you, always meddling into other people’s business and treating others, including those of higher stations than them, as if lesser than. Lady Cassandra Baratheon was one of those women, so you didn’t feel a single drop of remorse about the advice you had given to your cousin, now niece.

The only thing about your day that had not been so enjoyable was the fact that your lord husband had skipped lunch. It wasn’t so much that his absence itself bothered you, although you did enjoy spending time in his company, it was just that at times he got so in his head that he often forgot to take care of himself. A few hours into the afternoon you had thought you had caught a glimpse of him in the outskirts of the garden but where you were expecting him to join the lot of you, he had completely vanished by the time you properly glanced his way. 

That was over a half hour ago, where you now strided towards your chambers to clean up for supper.

Or that would have been your plan, had you not been surprised by a warm body practically colliding into you the moment you crossed the threshold, one large hand tangling in your hair and the other snaking around your waist. Lips captured your own in a hungry, messy kiss, teeth clashing and a warm tongue brushing over your bottom lip and into your mouth.

“Ābrazȳrys, finally.” he moaned, pulling back only a fraction, just enough to look at you for a moment before connecting your lips again.

“V-Valzȳrys…” you tried speaking as he pulled you further into the room and pressed you even more against himself, closing the door behind you, but his kiss was relentless, his lips moving to your jaw and down your neck, titling your head to give him better access to your skin. 

It was then that you noticed the state of him: his hair down, a few messy strands out of place, the first few buttons of his doublet undone and something hard was poking your navel. Pulling back a bit, as much as his grip on you would allow, you noticed that his breeches were unlaced and pulled down slightly, his cock out, hard and glistening, which told you he had been tugging at it for at least a while now.

He pulled you back in, mouth latching against your shoulder as he sucked and nibbled on the skin.

“Aem…” it was when you felt his hands moving to your back, clawing at the laces of your dress, that you pulled back and held his cheeks in your hands, forcing him to keep his gaze on you “Aemond, what has gotten into you?”

He sighed then, leaning into your palms, before coming closer and leaning his forehead against yours.

“I am putting a child into your womb tonight, my love.” his warm fanning against your lips, his words making your heart skip a beat “I do not care how long it takes, ot how many times I have to fuck that sweet cunt of yours, my seed is taking root inside you tonight.”

It was your turn to kiss him desperately then, something primal fueling your actions. Something about the way he spoke, about what he spoke of, lit a fire in your stomach that pulsed in your core. He met you in the middle with equal fervor, his tongue tangling with yours as he resumed his task.

He turned you around then, pushing you towards the foot of the bed. His hands were a contrast with the way the rest of his body was moving, gently moving your hair out of the way so he could nibble on the skin of your exposed neck harshly. His other hand softly untangled the laces of your dress, all the while he grinded his exposed cock against your clothed ass.

“What brought this on, if I may ask?” you asked breathlessly, yet still curious about his behavior.

“Seeing you, with them,” he moaned and grinded into you more forcefully at the thought, and you could feel his cock twitch violently against your behind “I want that for us, for you.”

You softened then, a warm and fuzzy feeling taking over your heart. You wanted that too, as you had once told him, you wanted a family of your own, you wanted to share this with him. And it seemed he wanted it just the same. 

You couldn’t dwell on it for too long though, because soon enough your dress was loose enough for him to push it off your shoulders, the fabric pooling around your feet, quickly followed by your underclothes. You went to turn around but a pair of large hands on your waist stopped your movements. 

“Stay.” he whispered against your ear, and you could do nothing but nod.

The sound of heavy fabric rustling behind you let you know that his own clothes were being discarded, which was confirmed when you felt the entire plane of his naked chest pressed against your back, his heavy cock nestled on your ass as he wrapped both arms around your middle.

“Ñuha ābrazȳrys, ñuha dāria.” he spoke against the shell of your ear before nipping at your earlobe “Muña hen ñuha riñar.”

It made your heart clench and heat climb up your spine, a gush of something warm spreading between your thighs. 

His hands moved then, softly caressing your skin as they went before settling, one on your lower back and the other right between your shoulder blades. A light of pressure of his palms caused your knees to bend, hitting the soft mattress, your upper body bending at the waist as you placed your hands on the bed to help support your weight. He knelt behind you, gently rearranging you so you scooted further on up on the bed.

For a moment nothing happened and time seemed to pause around you. Nothing else mattered, nothing else existed besides the two of you in this very moment. 

Then you felt it, his hands holding your thighs as his hot breath tingled against your glistening folds before his tongue made contact with your cunt, licking a broad stripe against your folds. A whimper escaped your lips as his tongue circled your clit, moving back up and circling your entrance in the same manner, dipping only the very tip inside. His movements were slow yet sharp, precise, like he knew your body inside and out.

You whined, him mouthing at the entirety of your cunt, pulling your folds between his lips, before his lips latched onto your clit, sucking gently. Your arms started trembling, forcing you down to your stomach with your forearms flat on the mattress, his grip keeping your ass up. He plunged not one but two fingers inside you, eliciting a sharp cry from you as you tried to move away from him, though again his grip on your thighs wouldn’t let you. He waited a moment for you to adjust, one of his thumbs gently caressing your skin as he whispered sweet nothings in high valyrian, before slowly, very gently starting to move his fingers out of your cunt before pushing in again.

In a few moments he was clawing against your warm walls as if his life depended on it, probing, searching for that spot that made your mind spin and knocked the breath out of your chest. Hot molten pleasure was pooling in your stomach, spreading through your limbs and up your spine when the pads of his fingers brushed against it, sending a twinge of pleasure travelling all through your body. The mounting pressure in your navel kept growing and growing with each pass of his digits, making sweat drip from your brow and heat settle in your cheeks. 

A harsh tug of his lips, sucking harshly on your clit, was what sent you over the edge, the coil snapping and sending waves upon waves of pleasure through you, stealing your breath from your lungs. He barely gave you any time to think, though, the familiar sound of him sucking his fingers clean followed by his cock poking at your entrance. Then you felt two hands settling in each one of your shoulders, pulling you back towards him and onto his cock in one swift thrust, your previous release offering no resistance.

You moaned loudly, your ears ringing as he started pounding into you, his hands moving to your hips. The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room as his hips met your ass repeatedly, your own loud whines and his groans and grunts the only other sounds you could make out.

The pleasure was quickly rebuilding, not having fully receded in the first place, but after a few moments he slowed down to a stop, a whine of disappointment ripping from your throat.

“No,” he panted, his own breath stilled “this will not do.”

Your disappointment was short lived however, as he quickly flipped your around, manhandling you on your back and pushing your knees to your chest. He hurriedly thrust inside your cunt again, positioning himself so your legs slotted perfectly over his shoulders and his chest was flush against your own, pushing down on you, before resuming his erratic pace.

It was dizzying, your head was spinning and you could barely catch the words he was speaking against your skin, both his hands cradling the sides of your face as his cock slipped in and out and in and out of you over and over.

“Ñuha dāria, sīr vok,” he groaned, pressing even further into you and, in turn, pressing you even more into the matress “kesā tepagon nyke hen riñar, kessa ao daor?” 

You could only nod, feeling that familiar pressure climbing and coiling ready to burst at any moment. At the same time, an immeasurable wave of love exploded from your heart at the thought, making you clench tightly around him, pulling a hiss from him.

“Tepagon ziry naejot nyke, pār.” his own voice was trembling, one of his hands leaving your face to circle your clit in short sharp circles “G-Give it to me and in turn I will give you however many babes you might want.”

You cried out, the coil of pressure snapping once more and making molten heat, scorching like dragon fire, filling your mind, waves of pleasure radiating from your core to every part of your body, taking over all your senses and enveloping your very being. He was quick to follow, thrusting sloppily into your cunt as his cock twitched violently, shooting ropes of his warm seed, painting your damp walls, his body collapsing over your own.

As you came to your senses you could feel him mouthing gently, almost lazily at the skin around your breast. When he noticed you staring at him he raised his head, his lips meeting your own in a sweet, soft peck.

“Avy jorrāelan, zaldrītsos.” he smiled tiredly, his whole face lighting up beautifully.

“Avy jorrāelan tolī, ñuha zaldrīzes.” you answered in kind.

After a few moments regaining your breath you pushed at his shoulder gently, so he could get off of you, but he wouldn’t budge.

“Where are you going, ābrazȳrys?” he jested, a mocking smirk taking over his features as he thrust his now softening cock shallowly into your cunt “I told you I would get you with child by the end of the night, and I intend on making good on my word.”

By the looks of it, you’d both end up missing supper that evening, as you were in for a long night

High Valyrian translations: - ābrazȳrys - wife - valzȳrys - husband - ñuha ābrazȳrys, ñuha dāria - my wife, my queen - muña hen ñuha riñar - mother of my children - ñuha dāria, sīr vok - my queen, so perfect - kesā tepagon nyke iā lot hen riñar, kessa ao daor? - you will give me a lot of children, will you not? - tepagon ziry naejot nyke, pār - give it to me, then

Tag List:

@callsignwidow

@sleephereicome

@bitchassgoose

@voguiing

@dibutw

@fruityvampslayer

@garden-in-the-rain

@queen-of-elves

@woodlandwrites

[aventurineswife]

May I please request Aven playing with his twin babies??? (I always imagine him having boy and girl twins)

Like, imagine their tiny hands trying to grab his expensive trinkets and use them as teething toys (idk what they're called LOL) 💖💖

“Sometimes the smallest things take up the most room in your heart”

Summary: Aventurine finds himself caught in the simplest yet most precious game of them all: fatherhood. As he watches his twin babies playfully fight for his trinkets, he is overcome by a rare sense of joy and love and forgets his usual guarded ways. The twins bring out this part of him, an element of play which he has kept hidden for so long, reminding him that the gamble may not always be about wealth or power but about love and family and sometimes just the little things in life.

Tags: Dad!Aventurine, Family, Parenthood, Humor, Mischief, Love, Emotional Vulnerability, Joy.

A/N: searched it up and it's called teething toys (for babies), so you're correct! Don't worry :3

Aventurine had always been a man of risk—whether it was navigating the volatile corridors of power or placing a bet on an impossible con. But today, the stakes were far more personal, and far more precious.

He sat on a plush velvet armchair in the lavish sitting room of his estate, his usually composed features softened by a rare, unguarded smile. His children—his twin babies—played at his feet. The boy with his bright eyes and unruly hair laughed as he reached out for the small trinket that rested on the low table in front of his father. The girl, her dark eyes twinkling mischievously, was already doing her best to grab at the same piece of jewelry, her chubby fingers curling around the delicate gold chain.

They get him with a teasing, affectionate smile, the careful mask slipping in their presence. Aventurine thought himself a strategist: one reads the room and predicts the next move. This game of life has changed, though, when it comes to these two; his heart runs in an uncharted course.

"Ah, no, no," he crooned softly, reaching down to pull the gold necklace from their jaws, "That's not for you to chew on."

The boy whimpered softly, his huge eyes looking up at his father, while the girl beamed up at him as if plotting her next move. It was as if they were already working together—hard not to laugh at this. He had a feeling of something between alarm and endearment at the mischievous streak that mirrored his own.

"You two are already scheming," he said to himself, shaking his head. His eyes remained on their small hands, still reaching for anything they could grab. The girl grabbed the chip coin, clutching it in her chubby little fist. Aventurine's heart fluttered at how such small hands could hold such weight in his life.

"You know," he started, settling back in the chair as he absently fidgeted with his bracelet, "your parent would have a fit if they saw you two playing with my trinkets. They're far too expensive for you to be using them as teething toys."

But the two of them did not give up. The boy, not wanting to lose, managed to tug at a delicate gold ring on his father's wrist with a surprising strength in those baby fingers.

With a theatrical sigh, Aventurine carefully took off the ring, his voice playful yet firm. "If you keep this up, you'll ruin my reputation as the greatest gambler in the universe," he teased. "People will hear about the time I lost my ring to a toddler."

The twins giggled in perfect synchrony, their little voices harmonizing in the most innocent way yet having in their expressions mischief written. Perfect, the gamble paid off in the most wonderful of ways—though Aventurine would never admit how much a gamble fatherhood was truly.

As the boy squirmed closer now to pull at his father's choker, Aventurine couldn't resist. His usual wariness was forgotten in the glow of the moment, and he let them have their play. For the universe held no treasures to rival the joy he felt in their company.

"You little thieves," Aventurine laughed, hoisting the girl up onto his lap, her face breaking out into a grin that was at once his charm and her parent's warmth. The boy crawled up to his side, reaching for his father's face, as if trying to claim him entirely.

Aventurine’s heart fluttered again—this time, he didn’t even try to stop it. He was theirs, every last bit of him. And for once, he didn’t need to calculate the cost of that connection.

For this gamble, there was no risk at all.

[mommyownsmee]

About how I learned to love Brats, Pillow Princess behaviour & the Art of Dominance

Recently, I’ve been thinking a lot. Something in the way I think changed.

Every Submissive always talks about being a “good girl”—doing what makes the Dom/me happy, always being obedient and eager to learn. I used to think that is the way it always has to be. Used to. For over ten years as a Domme, I thrived on that concept: A “good girl” has to follow rules and submit without hesitation. For years, I thought that was the pinnacle of submission.

But the thing about power is that it evolves. True power doesn’t stay stagnant—it grows, adapts, and deepens with experience. Over time, I’ve come to realize that submission is more nuanced than a simple checklist of behaviors. It’s raw, alive, and deeply personal. Submission isn’t about perfection. It’s really all about connection.

For years, I believed brattiness in every way always needed to be corrected. To me, it once felt like resistance, a flaw, or a rebellion that threatened the structure of the dynamic. But now, I see it differently. Now, I see it as a form of self-expression. A way for my submissive to show her fire, her confidence, and her trust in me.

Yes, trust. Because it takes trust to push boundaries. It takes trust to tease, to play, and to challenge the person who holds the power. And when my submissive does that—when she smirks and says, “Mommy, I’m the most beautiful girl in the world, aren’t I? Others must have it really hard, not being as perfect as me,” or when she pouts and demands, “Mommy, I want it because I deserve it”—I don’t see rebellion anymore.

I see confidence. I see life. I see a woman who knows her worth and isn’t afraid to own it.

And it’s sexy. Damn sexy.

Bratty behavior doesn’t weaken the dynamic. It strengthens it. It adds layers, complexity, and depth. It turns submission into a dance—a playful, sensual exchange of power where no one is truly in control except for me. And yet, her fire ignites something primal in me. It keeps me sharp, keeps me present, and keeps our connection electric.

Being a Domme for over a decade has taught me that dominance isn’t just about control. It’s about responsibility in a other way than I thought it is. It’s about seeing my submissive for who she is—not just the quiet, obedient girl who kneels perfectly at my feet, but the playful, demanding princess who knows what she deserves and isn’t afraid to say it.

Why should I suppress that part of her? Why should I try to mold her into someone different and docile when her strength and confidence are what make her so captivating?

When she teases me, when she pushes the boundaries, it’s not defiance. It’s trust. She knows I’m strong enough to handle it, to match her energy, to guide her through it without breaking her spirit. That’s the real power of dominance—not in silencing her, but in allowing her to roar, knowing I’ll hold her steady when she’s ready to submit.

That doesn’t mean she doesn’t have to put in the effort sometimes. Of course she does. Submission is a two-way street. There are moments when she needs to kneel, to focus, to give herself fully to me. But those moments don’t need to be constant. Submission isn’t about perfection—it’s about authenticity.

Some nights, she doesn't want to exert any strength. She wants to be my Pillow Princess, indulgent and adored. And why shouldn’t she? Why should she always have to work for my approval when my love for her is unconditional?

I’m the Domme. It’s my responsibility to take care of her.

When she looks at me with that confident sparkle in her eyes and says, “Mommy, I deserve to be treated like the princess I am,” not a single muscle in my face flinches—even though my heart skips a beat every time.

“Oh, is that so, my darling?” I ask, leaning forward, my voice soft but commanding. My thumb brushes over her lower lip, and I lock my gaze on hers. “Then show me how much you deserve it.”

She melts, every time. It’s a game we play, a game of confidence and submission, of power and vulnerability. She knows I’ll always win, but she also knows I love the fire in her eyes when she dares to try.

Her brattiness doesn’t threaten my dominance. It enhances it. It reminds me of why I do this—why I’ve spent over a decade mastering the art of control, not to break someone, but to guide them. To make them feel safe, cherished, and understood.

When I pull her close, kiss her hair, and promise her that she’ll get everything she deserves, it’s not just words. It’s a vow. A vow to build her up, to nurture her, and to remind her every single day that she’s mine.

And tomorrow? Tomorrow, she’ll kneel. Not just because I demand it, but because she craves and wants it. Because submission is her gift to me, and my gift to her is the freedom to express it in all its forms—bratty, playful, vulnerable, and fierce.

That’s the beauty of our dynamic. It’s not rigid or predictable. It’s alive, pulsing with energy, passion, and trust. And as her Domme, I wouldn’t have it any other way.

For me, there’s nothing more intoxicating than that.

[snow-blower]

Cregan smut headcanons please! He gives me gentle giant teddy bear that doesnt know his own strength

I have some Cregan head canons in my drafts that I'm working on for tmr but I can put a few here :)

He is a gentle giant. The sweetest too. He'd be so soft and gentle with his touches, making sure he's bringing you the utmost pleasure.

He'd fuck you slow and deep, relishing in each gasp and moan he draws from you.

Praise. He'd praise the fuck out of you. Best believe you're getting 'good girls' and 'you take me so well'.

He loves playing with your hair whilst he fucks you. He loves tangling his fingers in the silky strands, using it to deepen kisses.

He loves going down on you too. He'd undress you, worship you, fuck you with his tongue, you know it.

I feel like he'd know he could be rough, and he would be so worried about hurting you. He's just so much bigger than you. His hands were made for war. But he'd be so determined to treat you so gently like a delicate doll.

If you did want him to be rough, you'd have to beg and plead, swearing that you want it and that you trust him not to truly hurt you.

[dailyadventureprompts]

So I've been reading Triangle Agency...

For those not in the know: Triangle Agency is a new weird/corporate horror TTRPG heavily inspired by things like the X files, Delta Green, and Control. You work as agents for the titular organization which sends you out to stabilize reality by dealing with various paranatural Anomalies.

Don't think of this as a review, until I sit down at a table and play this system over a few sessions I won't be able to tell you how well it actually works. What I can tell you is what the game is trying to accomplish with its storytelling and mechanics, and what it's trying to do is interesting.

Unlike a lot of TTRPGs I've read, triangle agency is not interested in giving you a system that you can use to tell whatever story you want. Instead I can compare it to a tabletop version of a choice heavy videogame like Disco Elysium or Bg3: where engaging with the story/mechanics will lead you to one of the endings the authors prepared for you. This is not to say the system is inflexible, that you can't put your own spin on it, GMs can design missions however they want, and player choice is a major focus, but as long as you're playing the game you're furthering the meta story.

As such, this might be the first game that I'd consider running out of the box with only pre-prepped adventures, which is shocking considering how much of a homebrewer I am. Instead, I'd be interested in putting a group of players in this game and just seeing what it does to them, though it'd have to be a very specific group of players than my regular ol gaming group.

The ideal Triangle Agency player is one that's got a primary focus on storytelling over mechanics, who're interested in making big narrative swings happen as a result of their choices. They also need to be comfortable with improv storytelling, as the primary means of interacting with the game requires a quick " what if" session to justify how you're moulding reality into a new shape:

Where another game might have you roll your character's strength for something as simple as kicking down a locked door, Triangle Agency has your party brainstorming a reason why the door would be weak enough for you to kick down in the first place: IE the building has a termite problem, and the hinges were subject to poor storage conditions by the contractor who installed the door. Then you roll. If you succeed, the door is knocked down, the building has a termite problem and has *always* had a termite problem, and an entire human being, Gary the negligent contractor, has been spoken into existence. You are likely to meet him on your next mission.

In many ways this is explicitly like Blades in the Dark's flashback mechanic, except made an explicit part of the game world. Your characters have the same reality distorting abilities of the Anomalies they're hunting, and they have to be careful lest they delete whole swaths of their life trying to angle for a better roll.

This is where we get into Triangle Agency's focus on character, and the secondary requirement that players be the type to get invested in their eldritch business blorbo as they are subjected to various corporate horrors™. This is a game interested in change whether it manifests as choice, trauma, or metamorphosis, and the ante for these interactions is your player/characters investment in the world. Part of this is with your character's contacts, NPCs who are as essential to an agent's build as their anomalous superpowers or their job with the Agency. To give extra weight to these relationships, each one is portrayed by another player at the table, which I thought was an ingenious way to not only take the burden off the GM, but also to give players more screen time even when their primary agent is off stage.

That leads me to the genius primary progression mechanic: The choice between whether to spend time with your Agent's contacts, focus on their Agency job, or delve into the eldritch truth of their powers, and how to split their finite time off between them. Here we get player choice, story, and mechanics all tied together in a neat little package as progression along any of these tracks unlock new abilities while also revealing more and more of the game's secrets. Possibilities for the game's story open up/are blocked off specifically with how the players choose to personally spend their XP, and if that's not a feat of game design ( or more aptly, craft) I don't know what is.

Final Thoughts: Despite having a delightful time reading the rulebook/optional mission pack (Seriously, the vibes are stellar) I don't know if I'm actually going to get to play Triangle Agency at any point in the near future. I think getting the most out of this game depends so much on finding the right playgroup for it and then pouring in enough time to unlock one of the endings. I'd want to see the mechanism of it's story/mechanics/drama play out, but doing so is one heck of a commitment.

However, if you've got a group full of storytellers that are up for the challenge and you're looking for something substantial to play next, I don't think I could recommend it enough.

I'm also going to be keeping my eyes out for longform actual plays of this one, I'd love to see what a group of performers could do with this.

[tunastime]

SEVEN!!! (plus three)

aaaaaaaaaaaaalright, lets see this time what we got...

alright shep this one works great LOL. I remember you sending a whole bunch, so this one ended up perfect :3 a very classic doc song if I do say so myself! (659 words)

Doc pulls his cheek between his teeth.

This would be a lot easier if he could use his other hand. But. Well. As his situation was currently playing out, his other hand was currently sprawled out on the desk in front of him. And his other hand was also, in an odd sort of way, two other hands, who belonged to Etho. Who was not him, but leaned over the workbench at the other side with the same pulled-tight-in-concentration expression as Doc did. Etho tilts his head. Doc can’t see the twist of his mouth, given the scarring across part of his face and the mask he has over his nose and mouth to help with particulates as they work, but he can tell from the rapidly forming crease between Etho’s eyebrows, alongside his own exasperated expression, that. Well.

“Not sure we can work around this next one,” Etho grumbles, wrinkling his nose. Doc sighs out through his teeth, letting his cheek go as he drags his tongue over the spot he’d worried. 

“Code-wise?” Doc asks. “Or is it completely mechanical?”

Etho hums.

“Well, last time we fixed it, we didn’t touch any code, so the way it was communicating touch and feeling was still the same. We just adjusted the hardware so it was better at picking up those signals. Since I remember last time, you were still having issues trying to feel for like… push-pins and pens and little rocks—”

Doc swats at Etho’s head from across the table. Etho barks out a laugh as he winces.

“Aow—kidding!” he wheezes. Doc grumbles, rolling his eyes.

“Whatever man,” he sighs. “Yeah, the signal strength still sucks balls. But you’re saying we can’t fix it, no?”

“Maybe,” Etho hums. “Just going to be hard.”

“Is it going to be hard? Or is it going to take a long time?”

Etho looks over at him, tilting his head not unlike a dog trying to understand common.

“I guess just a long time? It’s a lot to sort through, but it’s not very complex,” he says, shrugging his shoulders slightly.

“Good,” Doc sighs. “We can deal with long, but I don’t think we can deal with tough.”

“You think?” Etho asks, but the way he says it gives Doc more than enough suggestion that he’s being sarcastic. Doc snorts, but doesn’t reply. Instead, he props one knee up on the stool he’s sitting on and uses the leverage to lean over the table. He plants a hand flat on the workbench to balance himself. This is his only arm, again, given that the other is affixed to the table with half its maintenance chambers open and a mess of wires where the metal, magnetic ports usually sit. It’s not like Doc has a gaping wound in his side, and the disabled connection port on his right shoulder isn’t tender or painful to the touch, but the weightlessness of the open port is a constant reminder of what’s sitting on the table in front of him.

To think he used to take it off every night. What a moron.

From this angle, he can see what Etho’s been working on a little better. He’s digging around in all of the maintenance files looking for the most recent update. It was always better to edit the most recent update, patch in whatever code they wanted to alter, and push their newer, self-generated update forward. That way if the technical support team got onto him, he could blame it on a faulty download.

It had worked a couple of times so far, so. 

Doc pulls his cheek between his teeth again, worrying absently. His eyes skip over a fresh section of code and he immediately feels his brain numb. 

Fuck, he sighs through his nose. “This is going to take forever.”

“No time like the present, Doc,” Etho hums, and flicks his wrist, sending a copy of his monitor’s display to the main view-board.

(send me a number between 1-100 and I'll write a little something based on the song!)

[lilmisshellfireswritingblog]

The Prophecy Chapter 3: Please, I've Been on My Knees

Summary: Aurelia retreats to her private quarters after their wedding feast and Lucius visits.

A/N: Thank you everyone for taking this journey with me! This may be the shortest chapter of the series but who knows. I hope you keep enjoying this story! If you want any specific blurbs from this universe, I can take requests! ALSO, I started making a playlist for this story so, if you want it, let me know and I can share it. Warnings: 18+, arranged marriage, hint of marriage consummation, she's not excited about consummation but she consented, flashback, Geta being Geta, Lucius being an okay dude and not pressuring our girl.

Separator banner credit to: sweetmelodygraphics.

Flashbacks are labeled as such.

Aurelia’s private quarters were dimly lit by a few flickering candles, their flames casting long shadows against the marble walls. The opulent chamber was still and quiet, far removed from the jubilant clamor of the banquet hall. Aurelia stepped inside, her crimson gown trailing behind her, her face drawn with exhaustion and a kind of quiet fury that had built throughout the evening.

She crossed the room with deliberate steps, her shoes clicking softly against the polished floor and came to a stop in front of the wide window, looking out at the twinkling lights of the city below. The moon hung high, casting a pale light over the Roman rooftops. It should have been a sight of beauty, but to her, it was just another reminder of the cold empire she was a part of—one that had stolen so much from her, including her peace.

Behind her, she heard the quiet rustling of fabric as Lucius Verus entered the room. She didn’t turn. She didn’t have to. His presence was unmistakable, as it always was. He had been quieter tonight than she expected, but then again, he didn’t need to speak to make his presence known. His energy filled the room with a heavy tension, the kind that always lingered after a battle—an uneasy truce between two warriors who had fought their own wars, even if they had never met on the battlefield.

"I didn’t think you’d be here so soon," she said, her voice betraying the fatigue in her bones.

Lucius didn’t answer right away, and when she finally turned to face him, he was standing by the door, his posture rigid, as if he too were unsure of what to do with the space between them. He had removed his imperial cloak and his tunic, revealing the broad expanse of his shoulders and the hard lines of his body, still as striking as ever. But there was something else about him—something softer now, something that seemed less like an emperor and more like the boy he must have been in his faraway childhood, a time before all of this.

Aurelia felt a sudden pang of something she couldn’t name—a fleeting sympathy, perhaps?—but she quickly shoved it aside. She had learned long ago to bury her emotions, to guard her heart. There was no room for such weaknesses now.

Lucius’s piercing blue eyes met hers, searching, almost as if he were attempting to read her.

"Did you mean what you said?" he asked, his voice low, but the question hung in the air like a challenge.

Aurelia didn’t flinch. She wasn’t afraid of him, not in the way others were, not anymore. She had already seen what he was capable of—he was a gladiator, a killer, a man forged in the heat of battle. What could he possibly do now, except attempt to break her.

But she was already broken.

"I meant every word," she replied sharply, her voice gaining strength. "I will never love you, Lucius. I will never be your ally by choice. But I am here. I will play my part, for Rome and for the Empire."

Lucius didn’t react at first. He just stood there, watching her. His gaze was steady, unwavering, but there was something different in it now—less of the emperor’s cold authority and more of a man who had seen too much of life’s cruelty to believe in anything like love.

"You think I want your love?" His voice was quieter now, almost a whisper, but it carried a certain bitterness that made her pause. "You think I came into this marriage with the hope that we’d be some great power couple, ruling Rome with passion and glory? I have no illusions, Aurelia Carina Cassia."

The use of her full name—Aurelia Carina Cassia—felt like a weight, as though he were not just speaking to her, but to the very woman she had been before all of this. The name she had been born with, the name that had been tied to another life. A life that was no longer hers.

"Then why did you marry me?" she asked, the words slipping out before she could stop them. She had asked herself the same question countless times, but hearing him speak so bluntly, without pretense, it made her want to understand.

Lucius's jaw tightened, and for a moment, he seemed to hesitate, as if searching for the right words. "Because I had no choice," he said, his voice low but firm. "I couldn’t rule without legitimacy. I needed you to secure my claim. Your bloodline... the Empire needed to see me as the true heir."

Aurelia felt a sudden wave of disgust flood her, but she fought it back. She had known the truth from the moment she had been offered the choice: marry Lucius or die. There was no illusion of love here. No romance. Only survival.

"Just like me," she said bitterly, her eyes narrowing. "You needed my bloodline. I needed your power and protection."

Lucius’s eyes darkened slightly and he took a step toward her, closing the distance between them in a way that felt more predatory than protective. "We are not so different, are we?" His voice was softer now, tinged with something that felt like understanding—but whether it was real or just another layer of manipulation, she couldn’t tell.

Aurelia’s pulse quickened. She felt a strange mixture of irritation and something else—something she didn’t want to name—stir inside her. She had been in control of her emotions for so long, yet here he was, reminding her of everything she had tried to bury.

"Don’t mistake me for someone you can control, Lucius," she said, her voice suddenly cool and sharp. "I am not a prize to be claimed or a piece of property to be used. I may wear your crown, but I will never be your puppet."

Lucius didn’t flinch at her words. Instead, he stopped in front of her, his gaze locked on hers with that unnerving intensity. For a moment, there was silence, and the only sound in the room was the soft flicker of the candles.

"Who says you have to be?" he asked, his tone shifting again—this time with a flicker of something like respect, or perhaps understanding. "Maybe we don’t have to be anything to each other, Aurelia. Maybe we can just exist in this world, for whatever time we have left, without trying to change the other."

Aurelia swallowed, her chest tightening at his words. There was something in his eyes now that made her feel exposed, as if he could see through her carefully constructed walls.

For a moment, she considered saying something else—anything else—but she bit her lip and kept silent. She had no more words, no more energy to fight. This marriage, this empire—it was a cage, and they were both trapped inside it.

"Fine," she said finally, her voice barely above a whisper. "We will exist. For as long as we must."

Lucius nodded, though his expression remained unreadable. He stepped back, giving her space, but the tension between them was still palpable, hanging thick in the air.

"I’ll leave you to rest," he said quietly, turning toward the door but before he could reach the threshold, Aurelia’s voice stopped him.

"Lucius," she said, her tone softer now, though no less guarded.

He paused, glancing back at her.

"For what it’s worth," she said, her words hesitant but true, "I don’t hate you. Not yet."

Lucius’s eyes flickered with something—maybe surprise, maybe something deeper—but he didn’t say anything. Instead, he gave her a short, almost imperceptible nod and left the room, closing the door behind him.

Aurelia stood there for a long moment, staring at the empty space where he had been, her thoughts a swirling mass of anger, confusion, and something she was too afraid to admit.

She sat down on the edge of the bed, her fingers curling around the fabric of her gown and let out a long, shuddering breath. In the Roman world of power and survival, love had no place. All she could do was endure.

And in the silence of the room, she realized that perhaps, in this strange marriage, endurance would be all they would ever have.

Flashback ~ Wedding Nights and Feasts

The grand hall of the imperial palace was alight with the glow of hundreds of candles, their flickering flames casting long shadows across the marble columns and golden tapestries. The air was thick with the sound of voices—nobles and senators, officials and soldiers—laughing, clinking goblets, and speaking in hushed tones of political matters, all the while pretending to enjoy the extravagance of the evening.

Aurelia sat at the center of the room, her back straight and her face a carefully composed mask of regal calm. The feast was elaborate, more lavish than any she had seen before, with tables laden with roasted meats, fresh fruits, pastries of all kinds, and goblets of wine that never seemed to empty. It was a celebration meant to mark the union of two powerful families, a political marriage cloaked in the facade of love and festivity.

Beside her, Geta sat in his place as Emperor, his posture rigid and his eyes scanning the room, his expression cool and detached. He rarely spoke to her, his lips pressed together in an unreadable line as he occasionally exchanged formal pleasantries with the dignitaries at his side. He did not look at her directly, but rather, his gaze seemed to skim over her, as though she were just another part of the evening’s decoration—a beautiful, silent accessory to a ceremony that had more to do with power than affection.

Aurelia shifted in her seat, the weight of her wedding gown pressing down on her shoulders. It felt heavier than she remembered, the delicate silk and embroidery stifling in the warmth of the hall. The wine, which she had sipped sparingly, made her head spin a little. The noise of the crowd seemed distant, like the murmur of waves crashing far away, while the tension in her chest built steadily. She wanted to be anywhere but here, anywhere but beside Geta, who barely acknowledged her presence.

She glanced up at him, and for the first time that evening, their eyes met. His gaze lingered for a moment—barely a second—but in that moment, she saw something flicker behind his dark eyes. A glimmer of something unreadable.

It was not affection, but perhaps it was acknowledgment. Or perhaps it was just the weight of the situation bearing down on them both. He was the heir to the throne, but he was also, in some ways, as much a prisoner as she was. Aurelia quickly looked away, not wanting to read too deeply into it. They were both bound by duty. Perhaps that was all they ever would be.

"Empress Aurelia, it is a pleasure to finally see you in a laurel wreath. It suits you well," came a voice, pulling her from her thoughts. It was one of the senators, his smile oily and too wide. He was leaning in, his wine-stained breath making her skin crawl.

"Thank you," she replied coolly, offering a tight smile, but her attention was drawn back to Geta. The way his mouth tightened when his twin entered the room, or how his gaze flitted from guest to guest, never settling on her. He was far more interested in the politics of the evening than in the woman at his side.

The moments dragged on, the sound of clinking cutlery and polite laughter filling the air as the night deepened. Aurelia’s stomach twisted with the knowledge that she would spend many more nights like this, forced to sit at the table, to smile, to pretend that this was her choice.

Her fingers, which had been tightly gripping the edge of her goblet, tightened around the stem, her nails digging into the delicate glass.

Geta, still barely acknowledging her, looked up then, catching her eyes once again. This time, there was a flicker of something in his gaze—perhaps curiosity, or even frustration. But whatever it was, it was gone in a heartbeat. He turned his attention back to the men beside him, a conversation about military matters beginning to unfold.

The night wore on with little change. The banquet was lavish, yes, but it felt more like a gilded cage. The guests praised her beauty, complimented her elegance, but they never asked her what she thought. No one cared for her opinions, her desires. It was all about marriage. It was all about power. Duty.

After what seemed like an eternity, the music began to swell, signaling the end of the feast and the start of the traditional dances.

Aurelia had no choice but to follow. She was led away from her seat by a servant, her movements stiff and controlled. She did not look at Geta as she passed him, but she knew he would be at her side for the next dance.

As they joined the throng of dancers in the center of the room, Aurelia caught a glimpse of Geta moving toward her. His movements were slow, calculated—his posture never changing, even as he took her hand in his. His fingers were firm, but not gentle. There was no warmth in his touch, only the cold certainty of what was expected of him.

The music swelled around them, and they began to dance. The movements were practiced, each step a part of a ritual that had been passed down through the generations. But even as they moved together, Aurelia couldn’t help but feel a sharp sense of isolation. She was surrounded by the thrumming beat of the music, the eyes of the court watching their every move, but there was no connection. Nothing to bridge the distance between them. She felt as though she were dancing with a stranger.

Geta’s gaze remained distant, his eyes fixed somewhere far beyond her, as if he were looking at the empire rather than his bride. He did not seem to care for the spectacle, for the performance. He danced because he had to—because it was expected of him.

Her chest tightened, a lump forming in her throat, but she swallowed it down. This was her life now. A life of duty and silence, of rituals and politics.

When the dance ended, Geta offered her a curt nod, his hand slipping from hers with no more warmth than when it had first touched her. He turned and walked away, lost in the swirl of the crowd, leaving Aurelia to stand alone at the center of the hall, her heart heavy with the weight of it all.

Hours later, the imperial palace had quieted. The last of the guests had been sent away, and the halls were still. Aurelia had changed out of her wedding gown, donning a simple silk robe that was far more comfortable than the heavy dress she had worn for the ceremony and the feast. She had been bathed and prepared by her attendants though she felt no sense of relief. The ceremony was over, but the reality of her marriage had just begun.

Her chambers were vast, opulent and yet it still felt hollow, as though the walls themselves were closing in on her. Aurelia sat at the edge of her bed, the weight of the day’s events pressing down on her shoulders. The soft light of the moon filtered through the tall windows, casting long shadows across the room.

A soft knock on the door interrupted her thoughts.

"Enter," she called out, her voice steady despite the apprehension twisting in her gut.

The door creaked open, and there he stood: Geta, dressed in a simple night tunic, his expression absolutely unreadable. He glanced at her briefly before stepping inside, closing the door behind him with a quiet click.

Aurelia stood, her heart pounding in her chest. This was the moment. The moment that would define their marriage, the moment that would bind them together—at least, in the eyes of the empire.

Geta didn’t speak at first, his eyes scanning the room with an almost clinical detachment. It was as though this was just another political alliance, another transaction. Not a marriage. Not an intimate bond.

Transactional.

The emperor walked toward the bed, his movements deliberate, but not rushed. He removed his shoes and sat at the edge, the silence between them thick with unspoken tension.

Aurelia swallowed hard, her mouth dry. She stood across from him, her hands trembling as she clasped them in front of her.

"Is it... time?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper, the question feeling strange even to her.

Geta turned his head slightly to look at her, and for a fleeting moment, she saw something softer in his eyes. But it was gone just as quickly, replaced by the cold, distant look she had grown quickly accustomed to.

“It is,” he replied, his voice steady, but there was no warmth there.

Aurelia’s heart sank as she stepped toward him, the enormity of what was to come hanging between them like a weight. This was not the passionate union she had imagined. This was not love. This was duty.

Geta reached for her, his touch firm but unfeeling, pulling her toward him. There was no tenderness in the way his hands gripped her, no gentleness in the way he kissed her. His lips were cold, mechanical, as though he were performing a duty rather than seeking a bond.

And how she hoped it could be something. She already felt so lonely.

Aurelia closed her eyes, feeling the disconnect between them. The weight of their marriage, the distance between them, settled deeper in her chest. She didn’t feel loved. She felt like a pawn in a larger game that she had no control in.

She had no choice. She could not pull away. This was her life now. No love. Only duty.

Please the Emperor. Give him heirs. Serve at his side.

As Geta’s hands moved with practiced efficiency, Aurelia stood still, her body stiff and her mind elsewhere - somewhere by the seaside. She felt the sting of loneliness in the marriage bed, the ache of emptiness that nothing could fill.

And when it was done, when he withdrew and settled beside her, there was nothing.

[ang3lmoans]

Angel simply nodded at the man’s request. Knowing he would never let either of them get that far under the influence. That wasn’t what he wanted. Feeling the pressure against his hands Angel shifted his gaze. He looked down at their hands and back up to Garam only to see the man looking away. He stayed silent as he listened to the other man. He appreciated him being honest in this moment. Jealousy. It seemed to be the root of their problems. Well and Darius, which Angel made a mental note to talk to. His new friend had been rather affectionate since Garam came. Now that he and Garam spoke, it was time to set proper boundaries with him. Angel did feel terrible for kissing two men in one night. Especially when one of them saw it happen. He could see where Garam was coming from. He would be upset too.Angel continued to listen. Taking in everything Garam had to say. He wasn’t a fan of the man downing himself. This is what made him interrupt, “Garam…Garam listen to me. Let’s not worry about that right now. Okay?” He spoke softly placing his hand on the man’s cheek. Angel leaned slightly to get a better view of his face. “Neither of us is ready to choose anyone. I’m enjoying whatever we have going now. No pressure. No titles, just me and you. Okay?” Angel was now leaning forward whispering in the man’s ear. He could tell Garam was getting tense thinking of Axel breaking in. Now was not the time to tell him he already did. Now he was trespassed from the building. He needed the man to feel safe. Angel hated himself for it but he continued to keep quiet. “Garam, I’m sorry he destroyed your apartment. That must have been a lot to deal with on your own” Angel’s face dropped slightly and began rather serious. It was making more sense why his best friend was cold when he returned home. It wasn’t just the kiss. It seemed to be many factors that came into play. Angel ran his thumb over the man’s cheekbone and allowed his hand to slip to Garam’s neck. “Today we can make some phone calls to have more security put in. I’ve already been thinking of getting a camera for the door. Maybe a code that we give to no one.” Angel began spouting ideas nothing to calm his best friend down. As his hand moved to his neck Angel’s fingers played with the ends of his hair, a small smile gracing his lips. “We can get a bat. I said I’ll take care of you. I meant that.” He said quietly as he pressed a gentle kiss to Garam’s neck. “Now can we go get these pancakes you want? Now I’m craving them. What do you say?” Now whispering against his neck. Angel pulled back now and pulled his touch away as he stood up. “Let’s make a day of it. We can get pancakes at this great spot I know. Take a walk over to the mall. Look at some cameras. Maybe even buy one. Oh! Stop at the art store. I need some supplies. Even grab lunch, maybe? What do you say?” Angel chose a secret weapon. A pout and big eyes as he clasped his hands together. He began to whine begging the man to say yes. It took a lot of strength to keep from laughing but he was desperate. He didn’t want to be sad anymore. These heavy and tough conversations were taking a lot out of him. “Pleaseeee baby” he whined once more.

if you remember. garam rolled his eyes and let out a long quiet breath as if to say of course he remembered. though he couldn't exactly recall what the two talked about, if they really even talked at all, but he could remember what happened. to an extent, anyways. his demeanor shifted drastically once angel told him how he knew garam had a hardon. he felt the blood rush from his head, a sort of panicked numbness settling in his hands as he gripped as tightly as he could onto the blanket that still left his legs concealed. he felt it, angel actually felt his dick pressing against him. this was so embarrassing, definitely not how garam imagined the first contact would go. but at least he hadn't tried to push further, he had the common sense at the time to do his best to hide the fact. "i must have fallen asleep after that, too. when i've been drinking, don't ever let me go past just kissing... okay?" he was really worried, mostly about the fact that he wasn't sure he'd be able to stop if angel had given him any sort of leeway. he'd never been the type to keep going or push for more when somebody denied him but knowing the feelings between them were mutual, he feared that, being drunk, he would forget about what angel has been through and pressure him into going further. garam also... just really did not want their first time to happen while he was under the influence. he wanted to be able to remember every single second of it, he wanted to enjoy every feeling instead of those feelings being controlled by alcohol. when angel began talking about their fight last night, all garam wanted was to pull away from him but he feared that angel would think it was an act done out of rejection when that was far from the true reason. garam felt so guilty for what he'd said, ashamed of the accusations he made. the smaller man just sat there, his grip on angel's hand tightening for a moment before his whole body relaxed. it was good to hear that angel was seeking professional help for what he'd been through, garam would have felt worse knowing that angel was suffering in silence, by himself. he knew he wasn't very good with dealing with his emotions, he often jumped into things too quickly and latched on to anybody that showed an interest in him. that's partially why they were both in the predicament they were in, because garam lived with rose colored glasses permanently attached to his face. he didn't want to see the obvious red flags, he chose to believe there was good in everybody. "it was my fault," he admitted, turning his body to face angel. "i said things that i knew would hurt you because i was... i was jealous. you kissed somebody else and i saw, i didn't like it. i kept bringing darius up because i do want to be friends with him, too, so you don't feel like you have to choose between us. i wasn't lying but that wasn't the only reason." garam looked away from angel, obviously ashamed of himself at this point. "you deserve someone so much better than me, someone who actually sees you and who picks you first, someone who doesn't use you. i've brought you so much trouble and i hate myself for it. i'm afraid of what might happen to you if you do choose me." garam continued, looking back to angel once again. "he went to my apartment after he hit me, i knew that he'd go there so that's why i came here instead of going back home. i'm sure he got mad that i wasn't answering, he has a key so he probably just let himself right in. it looked like a bomb exploded in there when i went to grab my things. he knows i'm here, you really aren't safe as long as i'm with you." he didn't even want to think about what could happen if axel managed to get inside while they were home, while they were sleeping, or showering. completely vulnerable. "i should have brought my bat with me."

[alwayssassydreamer]

Fire Up The Night

A/N: usually i don't write for Marco but this was a gift for a friend (I don’t remember if you wanted me to tag you or stay "anonymous" 😅) actually meant to be posted on christmas but i f'd up sorry so here's your belated gift

Plot: during a sparring session with marco things take a heated turn

Warnings: smut, nsfw, p in v (implied), MDNI

Characters: Marco x F!Reader

As the sun dipped lower in the sky, casting a golden glow over the training deck, the energy between you and Marco shifted.

You could feel the adrenaline coursing through your veins, fueling your movements as you danced around him.

This time, however, there was no holding back. You were done playing it safe; it was time to take your game to the next level.

With a fierce determination, you feigned to the left, then spun around, aiming for his ribs. Marco anticipated the move and sidestepped effortlessly, but you were quick, pivoting to regain your balance and lunging at him again, your sword gleaming in the fading light.

“Not bad,” he admitted, a hint of challenge in his voice. “But you’re going to have to do better than that if you want to catch me.”

With a sharp intake of breath, you charged at him, forcing him to parry your blows with renewed vigor. Each strike was heavier, fueled by the desire to break through his defenses—not just in the sparring match but in the tension that simmered beneath the surface.

You could see it in his eyes—he was enjoying this just as much as you were, relishing the challenge and the way you pushed him to his limits.

In a sudden surge of boldness, you slipped past his guard, maneuvering your body against his.

“Let’s see how well you handle this,” you teased, leaning in closer, your lips nearly brushing against his cheek as you pressed your body against him.

Marco’s breath hitched for a moment, surprise flashing in his eyes, but it quickly morphed into something darker—something primal.

“You’re playing a dangerous game,” he murmured, his voice low and filled with a challenge.

“I know,” you replied, your tone sultry and daring. “But a little danger makes things more......interesting.”

With that, you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him down to your level. The world around you faded away, leaving just the two of you and the heat radiating between your bodies.

Before he could react, you pressed your lips against his with a fiery passion that ignited the air around you. The kiss was bold and demanding, and Marco responded immediately, his hands finding your waist as he pulled you closer, deepening the kiss.

But this time, he was no longer just reacting. He took control, pushing you back against the wooden training post, pinning you there with a heat that left you breathless. His mouth moved against yours with a fierce urgency, a mix of desire and raw power that sent shivers down your spine.

You could feel the warmth of his body against yours, the strength in his grip making you feel both vulnerable and exhilarated. The kiss became more frantic, more desperate, as you lost yourselves in each other, the boundary between rivalry and something deeper blurring with every passing moment.

As you broke away, panting, your foreheads resting against each other, you could see the desire swirling in his eyes—a hunger that matched your own.

“You’re not afraid to get rough, are you?” he asked, his breath mingling with yours, hot and intoxicating.

“Never,” you shot back, a playful challenge lacing your voice. "Are you?”

He grinned, the mischievous glint in his eye making your heart race.

“Oh, I think I can manage.”

Without warning, he grabbed your wrist again, his grip firm as he twisted you around, forcing you to face the post with your hands pinned above your head.

“Let’s see how long you can keep up this little game of yours,” he whispered, his breath warm against your ear.

A thrill shot through you as you leaned into the pressure, feeling both restrained and excited.

“You think you can intimidate me?” you taunted, your voice low and sultry. “I’ll show you how resilient I am.”

With a swift movement, Marco released one of your wrists, giving you just enough freedom to turn slightly, your bodies brushing together in a tantalizing way. You could feel the heat radiating off him, the power he exuded sending another wave of desire crashing over you.

“Oh, I’m counting on it,” he said, his voice low and teasing as he gripped your waist, pulling you flush against him again.

“But you’ll need to be careful. You don’t want to get burned.”

With that, he pressed his lips against yours once more, this time with a fierce passion that left no room for doubt. The kiss deepened, turning more demanding, filled with urgency and a wildness that matched the chaos brewing between you

Each kiss sent another wave of excitement through your body, a thrilling mix of pleasure and urgency.

Marco’s lips were like a fever, igniting every nerve ending as he deepened the kiss, pulling you further into this whirlwind of desire.

Then, as if sensing the tension escalating, Marco decided to turn it up a notch.

His hand slid under your shirt, fingers brushing against your skin with a careful yet possessive touch that made your breath hitch. You gasped into his mouth, feeling his warmth seep into your very core.

The sensation of his fingertips exploring your waist was electric, setting your skin alight in a way you’d never experienced before.You moved your hands instinctively, trailing them along his firm chest, feeling the strength of his muscles beneath your fingers. The heat radiating from him only intensified the thrill coursing through your veins.

It was thrilling to explore this side of him, and you relished the way he reacted to your every touch.

“God, you’re intoxicating,” Marco breathed against your lips, his voice laced with a mixture of desire and urgency.

His fingers continued their journey, tracing delicate patterns along your sides, igniting every inch of your skin where he touched.

"Maybe I should be saying the same about you,” you replied, your tone teasing as you leaned in closer, brushing your lips against his neck. The taste of him lingered in your mouth, and the raw desire swirling between you was palpable.

He tightened his grip on you, pulling you even closer as he tilted his head to give you better access. You kissed along the line of his jaw, feeling the hard contours of his body pressed against yours, making it hard to think straight.

The urgency of the moment made your heart race, and as Marco’s hand slid higher under your shirt, you couldn’t help but let out a soft moan. The sound fueled him further, and he turned to press you against the wooden wall again, his body pinning you in a way that made you feel both vulnerable and powerful.

“Are you sure you can handle this?” he asked, a challenge lacing his voice as his gaze locked onto yours. The intensity of his expression sent shivers down your spine, the playful game now teetering on the edge of something much more profound.

“I’ve never backed down from a challenge,” you shot back, a smirk playing at the corners of your lips as you leaned in to kiss him again. This time, the kiss was hungry, filled with a passion that had been building between you from the very start.

As you pulled away momentarily to catch your breath, Marco’s fingers lingered just under your ribs, teasingly brushing against your skin.

“You’re playing with fire, you know,” he warned, his voice low and husky, filled with a mixture of desire and something more protective.

“And I’m not afraid to get burned,” you replied, your confidence surging.

You could see the flicker of approval in his eyes, the way his smile hinted at both amusement and admiration.

“Are you really sure about this?” Marco murmured between kisses, his breath warm against your lips

"I wouldn't be here if I weren't,” you replied, your voice steady despite the racing of your heart. You could feel the warmth pooling in your core, igniting every nerve ending as you surrendered to the moment. With a determined glint in your eyes, you pulled him closer.

Every touch felt electric, and you couldn’t help but arch into him, craving more of the heat he radiated.

“I want to see how far we can take this,” you whispered, your voice a mix of challenge and invitation. There was something intoxicating about the way he looked at you, as if you were the only thing that mattered in that moment.

Marco’s eyes darkened with desire, a smirk playing on his lips.

“Careful what you wish for,” he replied, his tone teasing yet serious.

His hands moved again, this time sliding lower, finding the hem of your shirt and pushing it up, revealing more of your skin. The cool air sent goosebumps racing across your body, heightening your awareness of every sensation.

“I could easily take you right here,” he murmured, his voice low and filled with promise.

The heat in his gaze made your heart race, the idea both thrilling and terrifying. You raised an eyebrow, feeling bold.

“Then what are you waiting for?” you teased, your voice laced with challenge.

The air crackled with tension, and Marco’s expression shifted from playful to serious, the weight of your words sinking in.

“You really want that?” he asked, his tone suddenly more intense.

“Maybe I do,” you replied biting your lip, the adrenaline coursing through you making you feel invincible

His gaze bore into yours, a mixture of desire and something deeper reflected in those vibrant eyes.

“Then let’s make it a night to remember,” he declared, his voice steady with conviction.

He led you to a quiet corner, where the stars twinkled above and the sound of the ocean filled the air. The moonlight spilled over the deck, casting soft shadows that danced around you.

he closed the space between you, capturing your lips again in a kiss that was both hungry and tender. His hands found their way to your waist, pulling you closer as you melted into him. It was a dance of passion, an exploration of the uncharted territory between you.

Just as you thought things couldn’t get any more heated, Marco broke the kiss and trailed his lips down your neck, sending waves of sensation rippling through you.

“You feel amazing,” he murmured against your skin, his breath hot and intoxicating. The way he spoke, filled with desire, made your heart race even faster.

“Marco…” you breathed, your voice barely above a whisper as you tilted your head back, granting him better access.

The sensations were overwhelming, and you found yourself surrendering to the pleasure he was invoking within you.

Suddenly, he paused, pulling back slightly to look into your eyes, a smirk playing on his lips.

“I could get used to this,” he teased, his gaze lingering on your flushed cheeks

You began to explore, your hands roaming over his chest and shoulders, feeling the taut muscles as you pushed his shirt off. Marco watched you intently, a mixture of admiration and desire in his gaze as you confidently explored this new dynamic between you.

But he wasn’t about to let you have all the fun. With a swift motion, he turned the tables again, gripping your waist and lifting you effortlessly, placing you against the railing.

Your heart racing as you kissed him again.

As the kiss deepened, you could feel his hands tightening around your waist, fingers digging in just enough to remind you of the strength he possessed. You wrapped your legs around him, pulling him even closer as the world around you faded into insignificance.

In a single motion, he lifted your shirt over your head, exposing your skin to the cool night air, contrasting with the heat building between you. You gasped at the sensation, the thrill of vulnerability heightening your desire for him.

He took a moment to admire you, his eyes roaming over your body, drinking in the sight before him.

“You’re breathtaking,” he breathed, his voice thick with admiration.

You felt a rush of heat at his words, a mix of pride and excitement swelling within you.

“Show me how breathtaking I am,” you urged, your voice steady and filled with anticipation.

With that, Marco’s lips descended on you again, exploring every inch of your skin, every curve, every secret that made you who you were. His hands roamed, gripping your waist, pulling you closer as if he couldn’t get enough of you.

You could feel the heat building between you, a hunger that was all-consuming. Each kiss, each caress only fueled the fire until you thought you might explode with desire. The night air was thick with tension as you both surrendered to the moment, losing yourselves in the sensations that enveloped you

As you explored each other’s bodies, Marco’s touch was both gentle and commanding, igniting a fire within you that demanded to be fed

The taste of him was intoxicating, a mix of salt from the sea and something uniquely him. The heat of your bodies intertwined, and every kiss ignited sparks of electricity that made your skin tingle.

His hands found their way back to your waist, fingers deftly unbuttoning your pants with a confidence that made your heart race. You gasped as he slipped them down, leaving you vulnerable yet exhilarated.

“You’re so beautiful,” he breathed, his gaze filled with lust.

You felt a thrill run through you at his words, a blend of shyness and confidence as you pulled him closer, pressing your body against his

With a grin, Marco wasted no time in lifting you off the ground, cradling you against him as he found a more comfortable place and position. You wrapped your legs around his waist, holding onto him as he maneuvered you with ease, pressing you against the soft, worn wood of the deck.

He took a moment to admire you again, his eyes roaming hungrily over your exposed skin, the moonlight casting an ethereal glow around you.

“You’re a temptation I never knew I needed,” he said, his voice low and filled with intensity.

The moments became a blur of heat and passion, the sounds of the ocean the only witness to your intimacy. With each caress and kiss, you felt the barrier between you dissolve, leaving nothing but the raw, unfiltered connection that sparked between you.

As the intensity grew, Marco’s kisses traveled down your neck, his warm breath sending shivers through your body. He paused to nibble at your collarbone before moving to your nipples, drawing a gasp from you, and you could feel the tension building within you, a throbbing need that only he could satiate.

“Marco,” you breathed, your voice thick with desire. “Please.”

His eyes locked onto yours, a playful smirk dancing on his lips.

“What do you want?” he asked, his voice teasing.

"I want you" you whined

With a low chuckle, he obliged, his lips finding yours again as he shifted your bodies, positioning you just right. The night air caressed your skin, contrasting the heat radiating from both of you, and every touch, every kiss felt electric.

As the intensity escalated, Marco’s movements became more urgent, and you could feel the tension between you building to a near-breaking point. He kissed you deeply, capturing your breath as his hands began to roam lower, teasing you with tantalizing touches that made your heart race.

With a swift movement, he slipped your panties aside, leaving you completely exposed to his gaze and touch. You gasped at the sensation, the thrill of vulnerability mixing with the hunger burning inside you.

Marco took his time, exploring every inch of you, his fingers skillfully teasing your clit, coaxing soft moans from your lips.

“Marco, please,” you begged, the urgency in your voice growing more pronounced as the waves of pleasure built within you.

He grinned, his eyes dark with desire.

“Patience,” he whispered, leaning down to place soft kisses along your thighs as one hand played with your nipples the other circling your clit driving you to the brink of madness.

You felt yourself getting closer to the edge, your body craving more as he worked his magic, but just as you were about to tumble over the edge, he pulled away, leaving you gasping for breath.

“Marco!” you cried out, frustration lacing your voice.

“Just a little longer,” he teased, his smile infuriatingly charming. “I want you to remember this.”

With that, he captured your lips again, kissing you deeply, his tongue tangling with yours as he brought you back to the heights of ecstasy. As the kiss deepened, you felt him aligning himself against you, his body pressing closer, and you could feel the unmistakable heat of desire radiating from him.

“Are you ready?” he asked, his voice low and filled with promise. You nodded, your heart racing as you felt the world around you disappear once again.

“Yes,” you whispered, the word barely escaping your lips as he positioned himself against you.

With a slow, deliberate movement, he entered you, and you gasped at the sensation, the initial stretch igniting another wave of pleasure that crashed over you.

Your breath coming in shallow gasps as the heat within you grew.

Marco began to move, slowly at first, as if savoring every moment. Each thrust sent shockwaves of pleasure coursing through you, igniting every nerve ending in your body. You could feel the tension building again, the heat rising between you as your bodies moved together in perfect harmony.

The world outside faded completely, leaving only the sound of the ocean and your shared breaths. Each thrust brought you closer to the edge, the intimacy between you deepening with every moment as you let out a loud moan.

Marco responded with a low growl, his pace quickening as he pushed you closer to the edge. The tension built to an unbearable level, and you felt yourself on the brink of madness, a wave of ecstasy threatening to pull you under.

“Marco!” you cried out, your voice rising in pitch as pleasure coursed through you, overwhelming your senses.

With a final thrust, the world exploded around you, and you surrendered to the ecstasy that enveloped you, your body arching against his as you cried out his name, lost in the sensation and not caring if anyone could hear you.

Marco followed soon after, his release washing over him in waves as he pressed his body against yours, their connection deepening as the two of you rode the high together.

In the aftermath, as the waves of pleasure subsided, you found yourself wrapped in Marco’s arms, both of you breathless and entwined. The world felt both endless and timeless, a perfect moment suspended between you.

“Wow,” you breathed, still reeling from the intensity of what had just transpired.

Marco chuckled, brushing a strand of hair from your face, his eyes filled with warmth.

“Yeah, I didn’t expect that either.”

You smiled, a mix of satisfaction and mischief dancing in your gaze. “Neither did I. But it was worth it.”

[kix-mm]

A once cruel God. Pt.5

Previous - Next

Amber glanced nervously up at Victor, still unable to look at the young god properly without fear. He had been tasked with the impossible: helping Victor become a better person... whatever that meant. He didn't understand why now of all times he wanted to change as a being, was it to give the illusion of humanity? To lure the innocent people who didn't know any better into a false sense of security? To trick Amber into believing that he really wanted to change for the better just to have his way? Whatever it was, Amber was reluctant to let his guard down.

"Why?" Amber asked this time. If Victor really was trying to be as transparent as he claims, then surely he wouldn't get upset if Amber wanted to know why? He wondered how long Victors patients would last with his latest little game. "Why do you want to become a better person - a better being? Why do you suddenly care about what I think?"

Victors eyes widened a little, and he sat up straight. He had never seen Amber so determined to figure something out. He couldn't help but smile a little... Amber asked him a question, and that was good, right? Progress! It was just... the question he asked stumped him a little. "Well..." Victor began, but was a little lost for words. "I... you know my feelings for you run deep, and when you left I... I felt lonely, so I began studying the human language, so we could talk when you returned, but as I began understanding more... the worse I felt, I knew I was feared, but I never quite understood what it was until I began to try and collect the other humans I had released..." Victor stopped for a moment, biting his lip as tears began to form. He remembered everything, every little detail...

"Amber... I never meant to be a bad person, I had no idea that you felt pain, I never... nobody ever told me that what I did to you was so awful." he lays his forehead on the nightstand. "I don't expect you to forgive me, I don't deserve forgiveness for my ignorance, but I want... I want to repay you for everything I took, I know I can't, and I'm... so, so sorry... but let me at least try"

Amber listened, so he would have been brought back here regardless... he was a little surprised that Victor had studied the human language because he felt lonely, not ever even considering that Victor could feel that way because... well, it was Victor. But then came the tears, the apologies, the acknowledgment that he never even knew what he was doing to everyone, he was like a very young child playing with his toys, or at least mistaking the humans for such.

The way Victor was acting now felt too genuine. It even got Amber emotional, was... was this real? Was Victor truly apologizing and trying to become better because of his mistakes? Amber wanted to believe it was real. He wanted it to be the truth... but he was too afraid to believe him.

"Amber?" The human flinched, whiping away the tears the best he could. "y-yes, my lord?" Victor frowned, reaching over and cupping the human's cheek gently with his fingers. "I'm sorry, I never meant to make you cry... I can feel your doubts about my will to change, but I promise I'll do everything in my power to prove I will become better, please, lend me your faith, even if it's the final time, I need your strength"

Amber froze. Faith? Was this what it was all about? If he were to do so, he'd be going back on his own words, on his promise to himself that he'd never trust another deity with his faith again. "I-I'm sorry, Victor... I can't, I've made a promise, and I plan to stick by it." As he spoke, he braced for impact, expecting this to be the last straw... but at least he would have kept that promise he made to himself.

Victor felt his heart sink a little, knowing deep in his heart that this was justified and feeling disgusted with himself that there was a part of him that was... disappointed that Amber didn't want to rekindle old flames... how could he ever ask something like this after all this time? How arrogant must he be to dare ask the very person he hurt to give him his faith... I am a horrid being.

"Selfish..." Victor mumbled. Ambers curled tighter, whimpering, expecting his last moment to happen any second now, and Victor immediately caught on. "Ah- n-no Amber, not you, please, don't worry, I wasn't... talking about you." he wore the face of guilt, reaching over and cupping his hands around the human but being careful not to lift or cover him. "I'm sorry, I was the one being selfish for asking you that question, I'm not upset at you in the slightest - oh, please stop trembling... it's alright"

Amber remained in his position, his hand over his head as the rest of him tried to curl up as tight as possible. Until he decided to peek up at Victor, who had... vanished? Amber sat up, and right in front of him was a human sized Victor, well- a little tall for a human, but one nonetheless.

Victor gave a sheepish smile. "I thought... you might be a little less afraid if I was smaller... do.. do I look alright?" Amber stared at Victor. He hadn't shrunk down in ages. The last time he saw Victor like this, the two were still children, and it resulted in Amber needing stitches because Victor tried ripping out his organs to eat...

"Y-yeah I just... I'm not used to seeing you so..." small? Easy to see? Not to mention that I forgot that gods don't usually wear clothes... and Victor now suddenly felt so much closer. He suddenly realized Victor was pressing his bare body against Ambers for a hug. It was a kind gesture, but one that Amber wasn't all too comfortable with was this just so Victor could touch Amber, or was this... genuine?

[reccyls]

hi!! sorry to ask, but what are mai’s symptoms in mitsuhide’s sequel?? like how would the tragic end play out? thank you!

Hello! Please don't apologize for asking, I'm happy to answer questions! (If I do know the answer, of course). I'll put the details beneath the cut, I've actually finished the tragic end as well

Mai's symptoms here are that she sometimes fades out of existence. She becomes invisible to others, they can't hear her voice, and she passes through the people she touches. It starts off as just a few seconds, brief enough that other people think it's a trick of the light, or maybe they're too exhausted. But eventually it becomes nearly permanent.

There is a way to check for Mai's presence, however: the ringing of a bell. It was something that belonged to her in the modern day, and she gave it to Mitsuhide to repair. When he gives it back to her, it is now something that belongs to both the past and the future, so the universe can't erase it since it "belongs" to the past. Therefore, Mai always brings the bell with her and rings it to make her presence known.

The original speculation regarding the cause of Mai's symptoms were her actions to save Nobunaga from the Honno-ji incident. However, it's later theorized by Sasuke that it's not Mai saving Nobunaga's life that caused the timeline warps: it's actually her saving Mitsuhide. Not just once (he should have died after Honno-ji as well) but twice (during Yoshiaki's trap). Therefore, the guidebook pages going blank (and eventually Mitsuhide's name specifically also disappearing from the guidebook) are the unvierse trying to correct this by causing Mai to disappear, thus making history go back on the right track.

This was said in confidence to Mai. However, Mitsuhide happened to overhear this. Now, Kicho and Motonari haven't been sitting their idly either. So Mitsuhide figures he'll kill two birds with one stone: he leaves the Oda forces and begins raising a third army on his own, to draw strength away from Kicho and Motonari. He is planning to go into battle against the Oda forces and lose, cementing Nobunaga's continued rule, and also dying to erase himself from the timeline to stop Mai's symptoms.

(Note that earlier in the route, Mai had almost run away silently from the Oda to try and avert this: maybe if she wasn't around to influence Nobunaga or Mitsuhide anymore, the symptoms would stop getting worse and Mitsuhide wouldn't be driven to drastic measures to try and stop them. Masamune is the one who catches her and helps to convince her to stay. Masamune is also the one who confronted Mitsuhide after he declared his intention to leave; he calls the two of them "a matched pair" given that their immediate first thought is to do some sort of self-sacrificial stunt to save the other.)

In the tragic ending, Mai figures out Mitsuhide's second aim during a war council with the others. She absolutely does not want Mitsuhide to do this, and so, she silently leaves the war council and decides to go through with her original plan. She writes a farewell letter for everyone and then vanishes without a trace. The letter is discovered the next day by Ranmaru, who realizes what Mai has done and informs the others.

The tragic ending then skips ahead a few months, to a final confrontation between the Oda, and Mitsuhide's rebel army. Mitsuhide is soundly defeated, and he comes face to face with his old comrades for the first time in a long time. However, all Nobunaga does is to give him a letter: the one that Mai wrote before she disappeared.

Here is where I clearly remember the language used in the text, it was that evocative: after reading the letter, Mitsuhide fell to his knees "as if his soul had left his body"; everything he had done, all for nothing because Mai was gone.

As penance for his betrayal, Nobunaga gives Mitsuhide a mission: find Mai. No one believes that she has truly disappeared forever.

The last scene of the tragic end is another timeskip, this time a year or perhaps more later. Mitsuhide is wandering the country, constantly searching for any trace of Mai. Earlier in the route, there was a discussion about how Mitsuhide's life was a road that led to hell. He muses to himself how hoping against hope is a kind of hell in itself, but one that he willingly walks into, because he must believe that Mai still exists, and that he can find her.

And we end with the sound of a ringing bell, carried by the wind. One more chime, this time fainter. Mitsuhide smiles and asks if she is playing tag with him. But regardless, he gets up, and follows the sound, because he would follow her anywhere, even to the depths of hell.

[negrowhat]

Fave QL Couples of 2024

Decided to participate in a few of @babyangelsky 's End of Year Prompts. I decided to start with this one first!

AlanJeff from Pit Babe the Series. I love them so much. I love that Jeff placed so much trust in Alan and cared so much about what he thought. But he also wasn't afraid to stand his ground with him and tell him what he really thought. I love how nervous Jeff made Alan and how Alan fretted so much about breaking the ice between them. I also love how easily Alan could ease Jeff's racing mind and how he made sure Jeff understood that he wanted to be the person Jeff leaned on. I love the age gap between them and how it plays a part in the way Alan treats Jeff and how Jeff wants to be treated. I felt their dynamic was well-written.

PhayaTharn from The Sign. I will always be a sucker for soulmates. But really I just love how drawn to each other they were. I love that Tharn always found himself searching for Phaya, worrying about him because he knew that Phaya never took the time to worry for himself. I love that Phaya felt like he was going crazy when it came to Tharn. I love that he trusted Tharn enough to save him everytime which gave him the freedom to act a bit recklessly. I love that they worked so hard to save each other. I love that they were willing to die for each other and with each other. I love that they waited for each other. Also I wanted them to adopt that little girl from the special ep.

NailHim from For Him. Like I said, the series was a complete dumpster fire but they were the best thing to come out of it. They were so soft and so communicative and respectful of each other. I love that they talked things through and even discussed therapy. I love that Him went at Nail's pace, they were both in vulnerable places in life so I'm glad they took things slow. Also their sex life was top tier. I feel like they should have been in a whole different series.

Myungha and Yeowoon from Love for Love's Sake. They needed each other. They were each other's happiness. Myungha wanted nothing more than to make Yeowoon happy, it was his literal mission. With Myungha, Yeowoon found his smile again. He found his life again and was offered Myungha's companionship to cope with his late granny's death and from there he blossomed. With Yeowoo, Myungha learned that he could depend on a person. For the first time he felt like he belonged somewhere and that he was loved. Myungha had given up life in the mortal world to be together with Yeowoon and be in a place where he was truly happy. They made me so emotional and I love them.

KorNamsom from City of Stars. Oh I wanted a full series with them. Their story was so good. I love how madly in love with each other they were. I love that Kor was ready to throw hands with ANYONE who had something to say about his girlfriend being trans because he surely did not give one single fuck. He adored her. I love that Namsom tried so hard to protect Kor even if it meant her own heart was broken. I love how he treated her like a queen and how he stared at her like she hung the moon. They were so fucking good together and I hope Rock and Kimmon get paired up again because the chemistry was insane. (Couldn't find a gif!)

OyeiCher from Wandee Goodday. Our designated family pillars. Def my fave depiction of an already established couple. It feels like we were thrown directly in the middle of their problems. Their main concerns were finances, such a married couple. I love that they were very much still into each other and loudly flirting about it. I love that Oyei tried so hard to carry everything on his shoulders and Cher was right there to remind him that he wasn't alone. Cher pretty much abandoned his old life to help Oyei with his family's gym and Oyei wanted to make sure Cher was taken care of so he wouldn't feel any regrets. They worried so much for each other but also were each other's strength.

Jaejun and Jihan from City Boy Log. I swear they are the messiest couple I've ever seen but their mess is so good. They are just so fucking into each other and no matter what happens they gravitate right back to each other. I love that Jaejun lets Jihan take care of him. And I love that Jihan makes Jaejun laugh. I love that Jihan decided right away that he wanted to be with Jaejun and that he was willing to fight to keep him (and he did have to fight). I love them and their chemistry and at this point IDC about anybody else in this fucking series but them. If they're not in the ep then I'm not watching it.

MethasJJ and OabPlawan from Love No Long Beans. I love both couples of this series real fucking bad. I love how horny OabPlawan were for each other and how they caught feelings somewhere in between. I love that Methas and JJ were totally opposite. I love that JJ made Methas work for hard to earn approval. I love that Methas was so taken with JJ and was willing to do anything to be with him. I love that both couples' dynamics were so different and yet worked so well.

SanVee from Century of Love. I love that the Goddess worked so hard to prove that Vee was San's soulmate but they sort of fell in love despite that. I loved that San got the chance to fall in love all over again, to the point where he didn't care Vee was the one he was waiting for or not. I love that Vee was interested in San immediately but he didn't let San try to force him to be someone he wasn't. He stood his ground and challenged San to think about what exactly he was looking for and who exactly he wanted and why. I love by the end of things San only cared about being with Vee and nothing else.

Xiaobao and Huai'en from Meet You At the Blossom. My fave toxic ship of the year. I love how crazy Xiaobao makes Huai'en. I love how Huai'en was ready to destroy the world and give up everything to be together with Xiaobao. I also loved how Huai'en always put himself between Xiaobao and danger. I love how Xiaobao wanted nothing more than to shower Huai'en with love and affection and adoration. He was willing to show Huai'en what love is supposed to look and feel like. I loved that.

TattooAran from Jack & Joker. Even though we only got mere morsels I ate up every bit. Love how Aran was such a spoiled little rich kid but cared so much about uplifting Tattoo and standing behind his inventions. He believed in Tattoo. I love that Tattoo gave Aran that culture shock he needed and was there for him when he was feeling sad even though he felt a little awkward about it. I love that Tattoo made Aran laugh. I love that they comforted each other. They're so good together and I just wish they were given the proper time to bloom.

SianBlue for Every You, Every Me. I just thought they were so fun. I think since we only had two eps for them the plot had to cut out a lot of drama-filled fat. I love that the conflict was something so simple but helped pull them together and showed that they're communicating. I was particularly a big fan of their sex life, it was so damn ideal to me. I love that they talked about things. I think they were my fave pairing from the series, but they beat out XNamping but only a sliver.

[getaandlucius]

A brief taste of honey (A Geta love story)

Summary: Geta is still heavily injured and struggles to recover. Lucius takes care of him.

Please let me know if you want another part! Love writing these!

No warnings, only a little angsty and fluff!

The cold stone pressed into Lucius' bare knees, but he was barely aware of it as he stared at Geta's sleeping face. The line between Geta's brows had finally disappeared, and his features had relaxed slightly—a sign that the devil's breath and opium were doing their work. Geta's left hand remained in his, resting on the sheet. Lucius bent forward and lightly pressed his lips to the smooth skin of his wrist, where he could feel the pulse beating rapidly.

A soft voice interrupted his thoughts. “Your breakfast, dominus.” A woman with long black hair and gray eyes placed a plate of food on the bedside table.

“Thank you, Ditta,” Lucius said with a nod, barely glancing at it.

"You don’t look good, Lucius," the young woman said. She pulled a small table closer to him. "Eat."

Only when he smelled the food up close did he realize how hungry he actually was, and he began eating like a man starved. After finishing the bread, cheese, and fruit, he wiped his hands on a linen napkin and stood to feel Geta's forehead one more time.

Warm like stone in the sun.

He rubbed his neck. There was no point in willing Geta to health by staring at him in his sleep.

Instead, Lucius decided to visit the fighting grounds to spar with his usual partner. As he worked himself into a sweat under the warm spring sun, he made a mental note to assign Geta a fighting master to teach him how to defend himself.

Or perhaps he could train him personally.

After the training session, he mounted his horse and traveled to Ostia with his trusted adviser Marcus to convene an emergency council. Reports suggested that the Pythians were moving southward faster than expected, threatening Rome’s vital trade routes. Lucius knew this meant he would soon have to go into battle. It hurt to think of leaving Geta behind for at least a couple of weeks. But he sensed his men needed a leader—a replacement was not an option. He understood that well.

When Lucius returned to the infirmary, Geta was still asleep, or perhaps asleep again. Lucius left him and went to his own sleeping quarters, afraid of his own intensity when he was around him.

Needless to say, he slept terribly.

---

Three days passed. On the third day, Geta was awake and sitting up slightly.

“Hey,” Lucius said softly as he entered the infirmary. It was early afternoon, and the room was busier than usual. Ravi and Pius were accompanied by three other healers, tending to a new wave of injured soldiers.

Geta looked up as Lucius approached. He wasn’t smiling; he simply watched him, calculating.

“Something wrong?” Lucius asked.

Geta shook his head. “No.”

“Okay.” Lucius smiled and reached for his hand. He gently played with Geta’s fingers, stroking his thumb over the knuckles and down to his wrist. Geta’s gaze fixed on their hands, his expression tense. Then he looked up into Lucius’ eyes. Geta’s expression was unreadable, his regained strength used to close himself off again.

Lucius pulled his hand back slowly, his smile fading a bit. It was hard to be comforting when Geta was like this—distant and locked away in his mind. A clear pattern was emerging: moments of intimacy and vulnerability, followed by Geta shutting himself off. Lucius tried to suppress the disappointment bubbling up. He wasn’t a man of big, open emotions, but something about Geta made them pour out like a broken dam, no matter how hard he tried to stop it.

“Can I get you anything?” Lucius asked.

Geta shook his head, and Lucius let out a soft groan.

“Talk to me. What’s wrong today?”

There was a long silence. Then, in a soft, almost timid voice, Geta said, “Your kindness makes me uncomfortable, Lucius.”

The words hit like a gut punch. Lucius inhaled sharply. “Why?”

“Because what you’re doing is out of obligation and guilt. Your sense of honor. And on top of that, your love for Rome. I’m still valuable in your little schemes.”

Lucius wished Geta would stop talking. His voice strained with every word, but he wasn’t finished, his eyes starting to burn with fire.

“You want me to join you at your political parties? Parade me around? Fine. I’m yours to dress up and pull around on a leash.” The bitterness in his voice was sharp enough to cut. “But don’t coat your actions in gold when they were red to begin with.”

“What are you talking about?” Lucius’ frustration boiled over. Was this really what Geta had been stewing on since regaining consciousness? It was painful and unfair, far from the truth. It made him feel helpless. “Parading you around political parties?” His voice rose. “You barely survived, Geta! The last thing on my mind is getting you anywhere but this fucking bed!”

“And those investments in my health and recovery aren’t for your or Rome’s benefit?” Geta rasped, voice barely a whisper.

Lucius shook his head hard. “No. Your place in my parliament hasn’t crossed my mind once since you were shot. All I thought—all I prayed for—was your bloody survival, you fool!”

Geta opened his mouth to retort, but Lucius quickly pressed his palm over it.

“No! No more talking for you this afternoon.”

Geta’s brows knitted in fury, but he was wise enough not to fight physically or try to wriggle free. Lucius dared him with his eyes, and Geta stared back. They stayed like that for over a minute, the unsaid words heavy in the air.

“I’m going to get you water, and you are going to drink it just like you did before. Understood?” Lucius ground out, still tense, his hand still over Geta’s mouth.

Geta’s fiery eyes stared back in defiance. He shook his head slightly, but Lucius ignored it and removed his hand to let him breathe. He poured a glass of water and held it out, deciding it was better for Geta to do it himself rather than risk getting it thrown in his face. Geta strained to grab the glass, which seemed to weigh a ton in his hand. He used both hands to bring it to his lips, which were dry as paper. Lucius looked at him, just as he had a few weeks back when Geta was depressed after losing his brother.

“A few more sips.”

Lucius waited, then took the glass back. “

Please get some rest, Geta. You need it,” he said, too hurt to look him in the eyes.

For the next six days, Lucius only visited at night when he was sure Geta would be asleep. He didn’t want to risk another argument, for both their sakes. He would sit at the bedside, listening to Geta’s breathing. Sometimes Geta would talk in his sleep. The longer Lucius listened, the stranger the ramblings became.

Geta talked a lot about his mother and his brother Caracalla. The words ranged from incoherent mutterings to distressing sentences: “No” repeated over and over, or pleas to his mother not to leave, or even not to hurt him. Lucius wondered about the kind of youth Geta had endured.

According to Pius, Geta had asked about Lucius on two occasions. “He also started having strange panic attacks,” Pius told him the previous evening. “The shadows on the stone near his bed, the screaming soldiers in pain—he’s reacting to them badly.”

This wasn't good news. Sleep was the best remedy for Geta's severe injuries, and having anything disrupt it was unacceptable in Lucius' eyes. He began pondering whether moving Geta to his private quarters might be a possibility. His rooms were quieter, and Lucius would be better able to protect him. The idea wasn’t a bad one, provided Geta agreed. And that was a slight chance, given Geta's fear of him getting too close. It might be too much and push him away even more. Pius, however, grew impatient quickly and thought it better to move Geta anywhere but the infirmary, as it was growing more and more crowded. And this, in turn, was resulting in more and more distress in Geta's psyche.

Two days later, Lucius proposed the idea to Geta.

“What do you think? Would it okay?” Lucius asked, standing at the foot of Geta’s bed.

Geta was quiet for a moment, then nodded.

“Thank you.”

That night and the following nights, Geta slept around the corner of Lucius' room in the same quarter. There was no wall separating them, and Lucius was a firsthand witness to Geta's nightmares and bursts of panic. What had possessed him to think this would do any good for his own rest, he did not know.

One night, after enduring a week of lying awake listening to Geta's whimpering and rapid breathing, Lucius slid out of bed. Barefoot, he made his way through the dimly lit compartment, the cold of the stone biting into his footsoles.

Geta's eyes flew open immediately, his sleep so light he woke up by Lucius' presence alone.

“Shh, shh. It's me,” Lucius whispered.

“Oh. I thought...” Geta rubbed his eyes. 'Nevermind.'

“Let's go for a short walk,” Lucius said, deciding to try something different. “It's been three weeks since the attack. Pius did say a little movement would do you good.”

Geta's eyes flickered to the dark hall leading to the door.

“Please no.”

“Why?”

“I don't want to.” Geta's eyes were big and panicky. Lucius frowned.

“Did you have a bad dream again?” he asked, softening his voice.

Geta nodded. Lucius looked at him in silence, then sat down on the edge of the bed. He played with the fabric of the bedsheet.

“I'm sorry I was so hard on you in the infirmary a few days ago,” he said after a moment of silence.

“That's okay.” Geta rubbed his shoulder. “I... I understand it.”

“You do?”

A brief nod. “I was being unthankful.” He cleared his throat. “I am just afraid, Lucius.”

Lucius stared in front of him, letting his words sink in. Then he looked at Geta. “I want you to feel like you can trust me.”

Geta opened his mouth, then closed it again. He sighed. “I know. I...” He looked away. “I want to.”

“That's good.”

The silence stretched on. Then Geta added, “I fantasize about you holding me, sometimes,” he admitted, searching for Lucius' eyes briefly before looking away again.

“You do?”

Geta nodded, his eyes back on the ceiling. “When you disappeared for six days,” he took a deep breath, “I felt this emptiness.” His voice sounded strange. “This sense of abandonment.”

Geta had counted the days. Lucius shook his head, feeling his throat close up. “I was there at night.” He reached out to touch him, then pulled his hand back, thinking better of it.

“Oh. You were?” Geta lifted his neck slightly.

Lucius nodded. “I was.”

The corner of Geta's mouth lifted a little. “That's nice.” He dropped his head back into the pillow. His apricot hair fell in waves on the white linen, crowning his head. It had grown a little.

A calm silence fell. Lucius fingers were still fiddling with the bedsheet. Then he heard Geta's breath hitch.

“Lucius, can you hold me?” He asked. 

Lucius looked at him. Geta's eyes were closed as if he was afraid of the answer, his throat bobbing as he swallowed.

Lucius silently stood up and walked to the other side of the bed. He pulled up the sheet and crawled under it, close to the warmth of Geta's body, his infinite softness.

He carefully slid his left arm under Geta's ribcage, then pulled him toward his own torso until his slim body was aligned with the length of his. He wrapped the other arm around him and pulled him in close. Geta let out a soft moan of contentment.

Lucius' face was resting in the crook of Geta's neck, soaking up his scent. Sleep, mixed with honey and just him. It felt so right having him in his arms. Hearing the beating of his heart.

Not long after, Geta's breathing grew heavy, his body sagging into his embrace. Lucius lay awake for a while, thinking.

He would have to go to battle soon. He would have to give this up, just when he was starting to have it. He nuzzled his face behind Geta's ear, hoping the tear rolling down his cheekbone onto Geta's neck would go unnoticed.

Then he finally, finally fell into a deep, deep sleep.

Let me know what you think in the comments! Your wish is my command:)

Previous parts: part 1 part 2 part 3,

Part 4

Part 5

[gazsluckyhat]

Not Nice to Play With Your Food

I'm but a vessel for smut to come out of. Lol. I wanted to keep some things the same while including new things as well. And if you don't think Kyle and Johnny team up to tease and torture little playthings you'd be so wrong.

This was so stupid. You know it is. You were supposed to be at The Bronze with your friends but Giles had requested you check out the cemetery. Something about teenagers seeing something. Whatever. Though maybe you being missing will finally give Alex the strength to finally ask Farah out.

"Stupid slayer duties." You had really wanted to be dancing with Farah right now. To forget the upcoming history test you were most definitely gonna fail. Worst of all you had already gotten ready. Hair all tied up with some dark make-up to match.

"Anything?" Giles smooth British voice coming through the earphone. You rolled your eyes, the chill was making you get goosebumps.

"No Giles. Nothing. Not a sign of shit." You groan like a child. "I'm supposed to be dancing with my friends not out stalking the dead."

"Hmm. Maybe the kids were wrong?" You scoffed. A child. That's eaxctly what you were. Freshly eighteen. You were graduating in about half a year. And here you were whining about hanging with your friends.

"I'll keep looking. Never know." You could almost hear Giles giggling.

"That's the spirit. I'll stay on the line." You nod. Knowing he can't see you. You'd been doing this since you were fifteen. You'd think the vampires would get the hint at this point. But no, you spent most nights roaming the streets and going full on Mortal Kombat. Your skin stayed covered in bruises and scratches. The cemetery was your best friend. You had most of the plots memorized at this point. You'd already picked your own plot out. By the fence with flower bushes everywhere. You just wanted something quiet. You had already made four rounds, the place was dead. Pun intended. Shoving the steak into the bag you'd brought you went to tell Giles you were heading home when you saw it. Leaning up agaisnt a stone, tall and shrouded in the dark. For fucks sake. You were tired. Extremely tired.

"I'm not in the mood tonight. Can you just come out so I can stab you and go home to sleep?" The thing moved. Way to fast. It was feet away but still covered in a dark cover. "Gonna make me work for it huh? Fine then." Jacket and bag dropped down you made your way to it. You were so close when you felt the air change. Something or someone had snuck behind you. You could feel their breath on your neck, sharp nails dragging up your side. Before your eyes the one you were after made his appearance. Dark eyes gave way to dark skin, he was pretty. Oh so pretty. The stake in your hand slipped a little. The one agaisnt your back chuckled. Vampires.

"Oi, lookie here. We caught us a slayer." Voice like honey the one in front of you smiled. He wasn't vamped out, his features all soft like. You tilted your head slightly and caught sight of blue eyes and a , mohawk? The actual fuck?

"A mohawk? What are you? A skater boi?" The one behind you laughed, his body pressing closer into you. They were cold, as usual. But smelled oh so pretty. The one in front of you boxed you in, his chest pressed right up agaisnt you. You had to tilt your head back and into the other just to make eye contact. You were lying if it didn't make your thigh clench. Wouldn't be the first vampire you'd been with.

"Bonnie little thing isn't she mate?" Scottish lilt tickling your brain. "Too bad we don't drink fresh, I bet you'd taste so sweet." He ducked down to your ear. "Though there are other things I can taste."

"Boys!" Loud and adorative, a voice boomed behind the darker one. "Quit playing with her. We have places to be." They both licked a stripe up your neck, their tongues meeting at your jaw.

"Mmm. Like candy." With a pinch to your ass the Scottish one crept around front.

"We'll be seeing you dove." Too quickly they joined the two new figures lurking in the dark. You could see the cherry of the lit cigar from here, the one beside him was tall. Clothed in a dark hoodie and mask. With a tilt of his head, the leader, they  were gone. Leaving you flustered and extremely turned on.