#I need to draw more giggling grown men

[tokkimins]

chatterbox

[absurdthirst]

False Starts {Marcus Acacius x F!Plus Sized!Reader}

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 18.1k

Warnings: Fat shaming, spoiled/selfish behavior, contentious siblings, insults, arranged marriages, yearning, star crossed love, pregnancy, child birth, death in childbirth, mentions of blood, death of a child, grief, drunkenness, loss of virginity, unprotected sex, vaginal sex, oral sex (female receiving), betrayal, domestic violence, threats of harm, escape, murder

Comments: A chance meeting causes you to meet the love of your life, Marcus Acacius. The gods against you at every turn it seems, you have so many false starts in your life together.

Co-written with @storiesofthefandomlovers

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|| MasterList || Marcus Acacius MasterList ||

Click Keep Reading only if you have read the Rating and Warnings and understand the warnings may not be complete to avoid listing spoilers. As AO3 says 'creator chooses not to use warnings'. You also agree that you're the right age to be consuming anything here.

You remember the moment you met Marcus Acacius. Your older sister was carrying a basket full of olives that you'd picked from the trees. She was complaining that your father hadn't given enough for her dowry and she was lacking prospects for an important and influential husband. You sighed, knowing your sister - the beauty, the one who men trip over themselves for - is not lacking prospects. You, however, are less desirable...plumper. At least that's what your sister constantly says. She was too busy whining that she missed the raised stone on the street, falling forward, and the olives rolled everywhere when the basket went flying. That's when he appeared. His large hand stretched out to help her and she made a show of how she'd rolled her ankle. Marcus was a gentleman and carried her home in his arms while you trailed behind with the empty basket, admiring the broadness of his shoulders. His aquiline nose and his deep brown eyes. Your heart was his from that moment but you weren't the one he wanted. "Thank you for bringing my daughter home safely." Your father smiles as he shakes Marcus's hand after introducing himself and you bite your lip, admiring his strong arms.

"You are - Marcus. Wow. You've grown. The army has been good to you. You're home now?" Your father asks and Marcus nods, a confused look on his face. "I shall speak to your father." He smiles and you grip the basket, wondering what he might need to discuss. Marcus nods and turns towards you, his dark eyes meeting yours and you swear your heart stops beating. Your sister steps in front of you, a silly smile on her face and Marcus draws his gaze to her, "I best be returning home. Have a good afternoon." He says, bowing his head. Your sister giggles, "thank you, my hero. Goodbye." She says breathlessly and Marcus makes his way through your courtyard. You watch him until he disappears and your sister grins, "that's the man I want to marry." She declares and your father chuckles, "let me speak to his father and I will see what we can do." Your throat feels dry and you can't speak, knowing your sister will get what she wants. She always does.

****

“I don’t desire her.” Marcus shakes his head as he stares at his father in horror. One meeting, one good deed and he has found out that his fate is being decided for him despite his years in the Roman army. “Her father is influential.” His father reminds him. “What she lacks in dowry, she will make up for with connections.” That doesn’t matter to Marcus, he’s a soldier. “What about her sister?” He demands, having been taken with the younger sister, the one whose eyes seem to stare into his soul and touch it. Her beauty more to his appetites. “I want her, not her sister.”

“The big one? Don’t be ridiculous, my boy. A man of your status needs a beautiful wife. Not someone who clearly cannot control their gluttony. You need someone next to you who will be appropriate for a general of Rome. You are on track for the position and you need a woman worthy of that. One day, you’ll be a senator.” His father declares, already mapping out the future for his only child. “And if I refuse?” Marcus challenges and his father turns to look at him, “then you’ll be on your own. No home. No coin. I’ll disown you.”

He doesn’t make much as a soldier, not enough to have any kind of life like he had imagined. He clenches his jaw and shakes his head. “She is vain and silly. She will not be the one to make me happy.” He tries to argue but his father will not hear of it. “You will marry the older girl.” He declares and Marcus sighs. He has no choice, without his father’s approval, he would lose his position in the army and he can’t risk that.

Your sister tells you the news by squealing it so loud that it echoes off the marbled walls of your home, “I am to marry Marcus!” She declares and your eyes widen, “Acacius?” You ask and she nods, “next week. Before he leaves for another battle.” She grins and you force yourself to smile, “that’s - wow. Congratulations, sister.” You offer, knowing you have no claim over the man. He’s been in your thoughts since the moment you met him but he isn’t yours. Now, he is your sister’s intended.

Once the betrothal is set, Marcus comes over to visit every day. His father tells him that he should get to know his bride to be, but he is most eager to see you every day. Your wit and humor touches him and he loves your soft, sweet smile.

You watch as Marcus sips the cup of wine, your sister giggling over every word he says and resting her hand on his thigh without anyone seeing. You hold your own cup, taking a gulp, and you hate that you are here as their chaperone. You hate to see your sister get what she wants when she hungers for money and power. She knows Marcus is in line to become a general one day and she wants to be there to share in his glory. You take a gulp of the wine and reach for the pitcher at the same time as Marcus, his fingers brushing yours, and you pull yours back like lightning has struck you.

“Forgive me.” Marcus murmurs, picking up the pitcher of wine and motioning towards you. He will refill it for you. “Do not apologize to her.” His intended snorts and tosses her head in a move that she must believe is very becoming but comes across like a petulant child. “She should stand to drink less.” She smirks. “And eat less too.” Marcus frowns, not liking the way you are being talked about and he moves closer to fill your cup before you snatch it away. “It is hot outside.” He tells her. “She should drink.”

You shake your head, “I am no longer thirsty. I am fine. Thank you.” You say, hating the disgusted look on your sister’s face as she stares at you before she looks at Marcus, a soft smile on her face as she reaches up to caress his arm. Marcus stares at you for another moment then he sighs and sets the pitcher down. “I would like some, Maritus.” Your sister coos and Marcus sighs, “we are not yet married, Ceres.” He says and she huffs, “not yet.” You grip your cup and Ceres rolls her eyes, “I am going to find the cheese we bought from the market.” She says and stands up, making her way out of the room. “Are you prepared for the wedding?” You ask Marcus after a very awkward moment that you stared at the table.

“As much as I can be.” He doesn’t sigh, but he wants to. “I saw you in the garden this morning.” He admits, smiling when you look up in shock. “I was running to stay fit for our next campaign.” He might have run along the garden walls so he could see you, having taken notice of how often you tend the plants in your father’s estate.

Your throat closes as surprise makes your heart thump and you lick your lips. “I like to grow vegetables and flowers.” You confess and Marcus smiles, “what’s your favorite?” You are surprised by the question and you tap your fingers against the cup, “my favorite flowers are lilies and I love grapes. Easy to grow here.” You hum, “when do you deploy?” You ask and he sighs, “two days after the wedding.” Your eyebrows raise, “so soon. You won’t be able to enjoy married life.”

“I guess not.” He shrugs slightly, not really minding that. It’s not like he is a virgin, but he’s not been looking forward to fucking Ceres. She’s too self absorbed. “The emperor’s needs come before everything. Even a marriage.”

You nod, knowing that the emperor comes first, especially for the army. “That’s a shame.” You hum, knowing you aren’t upset that Marcus won’t be with your sister for long once they are married. “Ceres will be lonely without you there but she will be able to run your household.”

“My father will be happy.” The villa that had been a gift to Marcus as a wedding present wasn’t small, but it wasn’t as grand as some in the region. It was perfect for a newly wedding couple. “That will be good.” He murmurs. “And I was hoping…I was thinking maybe you’d like to stay in the villa with Ceres when I am gone. She will be all alone and I want her to have company.” He says and you look up at him again, eyes wide, “you want me to- to keep her company?” You ask and he nods, “I- wow. That’s very generous of you.” You say as Ceres comes back with cheese and grapes in a bowl.

“What are you talking about?” Ceres demands, unhappy that Marcus is far more social with you than he is with her. She is going to be his wife. Although she brushes off the annoyance by thinking that he might just be too shy to talk to her because of her beauty. Marcus turns to her and wishes again that he had not helped her that day. “I was telling your sister that I wish for her to stay with you in our home when I leave for my next campaign.”

Ceres beams, excited to be a wife and running a household for a man that will become very important in Rome. “That sounds perfect, amor.” She coos and leans in to kiss his cheek. You avert your eyes, knowing you’re going to see more affection between them once they are married. 

**** 

“You may kiss your bride.” The priest declares as everyone gathers in the front room of your villa. The space has been decorated with silks and flowers, fruit bowls on display with copious amounts of wine. You look down at the marble beneath your feet as Ceres throws her arms around Marcus to kiss him, unconcerned for the family members in the room. “Congratulations.” You tell them once they have signed the marriage contract and your parents have spoken to them.

“Thank you.” Marcus smiles at you, thinking that you look beautiful in the silky, flowy dress that you had chosen for today and the flowers that are tucked into your hair makes you look serene. Again, he wishes that you were the one that he had been allowed to marry, instead of Ceres. Her simpering and batting her lashes at him throughout the morning had annoyed him.

Ceres wraps her arm around his waist, “my handsome husband.” She coos and caresses his cheek with her other hand, “maybe when you’re staying with us, you can work on eating less and then maybe you’ll find a husband.” She says and you inhale sharply, “perhaps.” You choke out, feeling that suffocating sensation in your chest when your sister drags her eyes along your form, knowing she’s assessing every flaw.

“You should be nicer to your sister.” Marcus chides softly, frowning at his new wife. “She does not need to change.” Ceres scoffs and rolls her eyes but Marcus doesn’t relent. “I would not allow a soldier under me to talk about someone else that way.” He tells her.

“Well it’s a good thing I’m not a soldier, I’m your wife, and I’ll be under you in a different way tonight.” She giggles and you sigh, “I’m going to get some air.” You make your way through the villa to stand outside, wrapping your arms around yourself, and you look up at the stars with tears in your eyes. Ceres has gotten what she wanted. Just like it has always been.

Marcus huffs and drops his hand from Ceres’ waist. “I’m going to get a drink.” He murmurs, unsure why two women raised in the same household could be so different.

**** 

You look up at the villa that will be your new home until Marcus returns from battle, and sigh. Ceres will be torture to live with but the freedom you’ll gain being away from your parents has you willing to endure her venom. She grins when she sees you, married life clearly suiting her as she comes over to hug you. “Welcome sister. Isn’t this marvelous?” She gestures to the villa, “of course once Marcus is promoted, we will be moving to. A bigger home.” She says like it’s inevitable and perhaps it is but you hate how she always wants more. “Where’s Marcus?” You ask and she takes your arm, “he’s packing his bags. He will be departing shortly. He slept in this morning. We had a rigorous night of lovemaking and I think I wore him out.” She giggles and you frown, trying to block out the thought of her and Marcus in bed together. “He was very enthusiastic. In fact he finished inside me-” She grins and you are grateful that the man himself appears and stops her from continuing her story. Marcus says your name as your eyes meet his and your heart flutters in your chest. “Good morning, Marcus.” You smile at him, “you ready for your departure?”

“I am.” Marcus nods as he is struck by how pretty you are. It had been difficult to take Ceres to bed and he had thought of you while he had been inside her. Your sweetness, your softness was what he wanted. Not the vain and selfish ways of your sister. She did not care about anyone but herself and that was obvious by her being unwilling to learn how to pleasure him.

“I am sure you will miss your wife during your journey. I will make sure she is taken care of.” You promise him, wanting him to know that someone with sense is left in charge of his household. Ceres will spend his coin like there’s no tomorrow. He nods, “I appreciate that.” Ceres scoffs, “I don’t need anyone to look after me but I appreciate your care, sister.” She scoffs and reaches for Marcus. “I am leaving now.” He announces and she grabs his face to drag him towards her, her lips pressing against his. You avert your eyes to give them a moment but you don’t notice Marcus doesn’t close his eyes, he watches you. “I shall miss you dearly, amor.” Ceres coos, caressing his cheek.

You watch him go, your heart aching, and you decide to rush out to him as he’s about to step into the carriage. “May the gods bring you home safe and healthy. We shall miss you.” You tell him even though it’s only you who will miss him. Despite it being a short time that you’ve known him, he’s buried in your heart and you’ll carry him with you always. He nods, his dark eyes burning into yours, and he stares at you for a moment before he gets into the carriage. You watch it as it disappears down the cobbled street before you make your way back inside. “What was that about?” Ceres asks with a scoff, “I wanted to tell him that I’d ensure your happiness and safety during his absence.” You lie and she scoffs again, “like you’d make me happy. Go fetch me some wine. That would make me happy.” You nod and follow her order, knowing you’ll do whatever it takes to ensure Marcus returns to a well run home. 

**** 

“Oh I have wonderful news!” Ceres grins as she comes into your bedroom, her robes swaying around her feet. “Oh?” You ask, looking up from your scroll. “I am with child.” She declares and your jaw drops. “You’re - wow. Con- congratulations, sister.” You tell her and she spins around, “I shall send word to Marcus to inform him of the good news. Hopefully that will guarantee his safe return home with the news of his son being born.” You don’t argue and say she doesn’t know if it’s a boy yet but you hum, “I’m sure he will be ecstatic.”

Marcus sighs as he reads the message. He had tried not to spill inside Ceres, but he had not been quick enough to pull out in time. Now she is expecting his child. The news should be joyous, but he is dreading returning home and pretending to be happy. His father has sent word that his wife is not very prudent with his coin, spending lavishly. He wonders if you are helping her spend, or if your time has been spent in the villa’s gardens like it had been when you were at your father’s home. “Major.” His attention is taken by the soldier entering his tent to remind him that it is time and he nods. “I am coming.” He looks down at the message again and leaves it on his desk. He cannot worry about that now, the last day of the war has just begun.

Your sister is near to giving birth and she has made your life hell. Sending you all over town to fetch the things she craves, spending coin like it will disappear despite you warning her to be more conservative with her husband’s money. She has no concern about that. “He will make more.” She said flippantly and you couldn’t argue. You’ve spent your days in the garden, growing vegetables and flowers. The summer sun has led to the garden flourishing and you are glad to have contributed to making the villa a home for Marcus to return to. You are in the gardens when you hear the carriage pull up outside, trunks being carried, and you scramble onto your feet. Your robes are dirty with soil but you rush through the home, your sandals flopping against the marble as you run towards the front door where Marcus stands, returned from war. “You’re back.” You declare breathlessly, a wide grin on your face as you stare at him.

You are a sight for sore eyes and he smiles back at you, pulling you in for a tight hug. There had been close calls and new scars he now carries on his body. “You have been well?” He asks quietly in your ear before he pulls back. “You are more beautiful now than when I left.” His smile slips into a frown. “Has your father made a match for you?”

You shake your head, “no. He thought it was best for me to remain with Ceres while she is pregnant. I trust you heard the news?” You ask and he nods, “yes. Ceres sent word.” He says but he doesn’t sound happy about it. “She’s due any day.” You inform him, “and she’s anxious for your return.”

“Then it is good I made it back before she gave birth.” Marcus says woodenly. He doesn’t feel connected to this baby or his wife, but he watches you closely.

As if on cue, Ceres’s scream echoes in the villa and your eyes widen as you rush to find her. She’s hunched over the chair in her bedroom, heaving in a breath and water on the floor. Your eyes widen, “you’re in labor.” You rush over to her and turn to Marcus. “Find the midwife. She needs them.” You order and rub Ceres back as you try to get her on the bed. “Marcus? You’re back.” She gasps.

“I’m here.” He promises, eyes widening in surprise at how large his wife has grown with the baby. “Do you need anything?” He asks quietly, unsure of what she could possibly require but feeling compelled to ask.

“Just go fetch the midwife. Ask Antonia to find her.” You demand, helping your sister onto the bed and she cries out in pain. “It’s okay.” You promise, “it will be okay.” You are panicking a little and you watch Marcus leave to go fetch the housemaid before you let your sister squeeze your hand.

Marcus rushes off to find Antonia, although he’s not sure which one she is. He’s not spent much time in this house and he’s sure that someone else was in charge when he had left. Pointed in the right direction, he demands the midwife be sent for. “My wife is in labor.”

You fetch some water for your sister, allowing her to drink and to wipe her sweaty forehead as she grits her teeth through another pain. Marcus comes back in, feeling lost and unsure as he watches you pat Ceres’s forehead with a damp cloth. “The midwife will be here soon.” He promises and Ceres pants, batting your hand away. His eyes meet yours as you stand up and place the cloth back in the bowl, softening, and you don’t notice as you focus on your sister who says your name, “go. I want to speak with my husband.” You nod, making your way out of the room to give them privacy.

Marcus sits down and picks up the cloth to wipe her forehead. “Are you in a lot of pain?” He asks, concerned. He does not have a lot of experience with childbirth, none actually. The camp followers would deal with the bastards born in their own area, the mothers recovering in peace while still traveling along with the army.

She bats his hand away, “don’t touch me.” She hisses, “you’ve been away this entire time, leaving me with her.” She spits your name and Marcus frowns, “your sister…she seems to have looked after you.” He observes and Ceres shakes her head, “she’s been hovering around me. Getting me whatever I desire but she’s - the way you look at her.” She hisses through another contraction, “like she’s the moon and the stars. Like she’s - shit - like she’s Venus.”

“I haven’t been here to look at her.” He reminds you, but she shakes her head and shoots him a hateful glare. “The day we married, you were looking at her like she was the one you wanted to marry. The day you left, you smiled at her and barely kissed me goodbye.” Marcus looks away, feeling guilty because he knows that is true. “You are carrying my child.” He murmurs. “You are my wife, not your sister.”

“You’ve never looked at me like you look at her. Even on our wedding night, I thought I heard you moan her name but figured it was my imagination. I am the beautiful one. I am the one you should want. She’s nothing. Once the baby is born, she is to be sent away and you are never to talk to her, let alone look at her again.” Ceres demands, gripping her belly.

Marcus scoffs at how disgusting that she is talking about you. “You will not have any say in what she does.” Marcus reminds her. “Your sister isn’t married to me, you are. You got your way.”

“But I wanted all of you. I am giving birth to our child. You are mine. I want all of you, Marcus.” She pleads, “I want the General I was promised.” She demands and hisses as another contraction hits her, making her chest heave.

She is suffering and Marcus doesn’t want her upset while she is giving birth, even as difficult as she is. “You have me.” Marcus promises, reaching out and smoothing her hair away from her face. “I am here. Right beside you.” She doesn’t push him away this time and he takes that as a good sign. “You must relax. The midwife will be here soon.”

She grips his hand just as you enter the room with the midwife. “There now dear, I’m here. Let’s see what’s going on. Your little one is on their way.” She smiles as she sets her things down, “do we want the father here?” She asks Ceres, her eyebrows raised, and your sister nods as she grips Marcus’s hand. “Go fetch me cloths and warm water.” She orders you and you nod, rushing off to get what she wants.

Marcus doesn’t watch you leave the room, feeling Ceres’s eyes on him. Instead, he turns to watch her. Bringing the cloth up to bathe her head again. He doesn’t love her, but he owes her his loyalty. She is having his child. “Be strong.” He urges her softly, the same thing he would tell injured soldiers on the battlefield.

It seems like hours that Ceres is in labor. Her cries echoing through the villa and you stay away, having seen the look on her face when you entered the room. You hear her cries and you look out at the high sky, wondering how long she’s going to be laboring for.

“You must walk.” The midwife shakes her head and frowns as Ceres pants, leaning over the bed. “The babe is stubborn and will not come out.” Her worry is starting to grow, but she has not said anything so far. The girl is young and strong, she will be fine if she would just heed her advice. “Let me help you.” Marcus offers, taking hold of her waist.

Ceres cries out when she tries to move, her legs shaking as she stands up and when she does, she feels blood rush between her legs. Her hand slides under her gown and her eyes widen when she pulls her hand out and it’s covered in blood. “Oh gods.” She chokes, “I feel- I need to push.” She says, feeling the pressure between her legs and she wants to push.

“Shit.” Marcus scoops his wife up and carries her over to the chair that is used to bring children into the world. “Help her!” He demands, looking to the midwife for help.

The midwife looks pale as she comes over to Ceres. “You must push. On the count of three. Inhale deeply and push, dear.” She orders, rubbing her back as Ceres reaches for Marcus’s hand, squeezing as she starts to push.

“Push Ceres.” Marcus commands, holding her hand and the sudden dread washing over him nearly makes him sick. He can tell that the midwife is nervous, that she is unsure of what will happen. “Push our child into the world, wife.” He squeezes her hand gently.

She pants, squeezing his hand, and she pushes. Tries to push as hard as possible but the baby isn’t coming. “You need to push harder.” She urges and Ceres shakes her head, “I’m so tired. I can’t.” Marcus leans closer, “you have to.” She cries as she pushes, her scream echoing off the walls as she pushes until the babe slides free from her body. The cry doesn’t come and the midwife gathers the babe in her arms, patting their back to clear their airways and get them to cry.

"My baby." Ceres gasps, nearly slumping over on the seat until Marcus is holding her upright. Her eyes are rolling back in her head and it seems like the blood is still pouring out of her. "Ceres! Ceres! Stay awake!" He shouts, seeing her nearly slipping into unconsciousness.

She doesn’t respond and he lays her down on the bed, shaking her as she bleeds onto the sheets. “Wake up.” He demands, gripping her shoulders but she doesn’t respond. 

“You had a son, Major Acacius.” The midwife says, wrapping the unresponsive baby in the cloths just as you return to the room with hot water. Your eyes widen at the blood covering the marble floor, your sister on the bed, and the baby in the midwife’s arms that is not crying. “No. No. No.” You cry, rushing over to the bed to find your sister with a blank stare, glazed over. “Ceres. Please.” You beg, caressing her cheek. She may have not been the best sister but she’s still your blood.

Marcus almost refuses to believe this is happening. “The baby-“ he asks blankly and the midwife shakes her head. “Dead.” She murmurs softly, moving to place the small bundle beside Ceres and check her. It doesn’t matter now, she’s gone. The wife he has never cared for has died. Died knowing that he hadn’t loved her, that he had wanted someone else. The gods are cursing him for his selfishness.

You sob for the loss of your sister and the baby she carried. The midwife closes her eyes and crosses her arms over her chest while you cry, stroking her cheek. She may have been cruel but she was your blood. “Marcus.” You choke, reaching for his bloodied hand. “She’s - oh gods.”

Guilt claws at his throat, but he doesn’t pull away. The little bundle that holds the body of his son cradled against his mother’s body and he clenches his jaw to keep from weeping. Not because he loved Ceres or the child she carried, but because he had killed her. “Go- tell her father.” He chokes out to the midwife.

The midwife nods, rushing from the room to find your father and you brush the damp hair from Cere’s forehead with your other hand. You feel guilty for being so jealous of her and you look up at Marcus, “I’m so sorry.”

Marcus stares at the body of his wife, his child. “I- they are gone.” He can’t believe it. “She- I just got home. She was here.” He is trying to process it, but he’s having a hard time. The guilt of his actions weighing down on him.

You squeeze his hand, “I’m so sorry.” You whisper, knowing that he must’ve loved her and wanted her. If you could take her place, you would, so she could be the wife and mother she wanted to be. The midwife stands aside for several moments as you cry and Marcus stares in shock. “We will need to take the bodies soon. I’ll fetch for the undertaker.” She says, rushing out the room and she takes a moment. She’s seen many women die during childbirth but most men are devastated to lose their wives. Marcus Acacius seems indifferent.

“Was she- was she happy while I was gone at least?” Marcus asks, turning to you and his heart breaks to see the devastation in your eyes. The truth is, he didn’t know his wife. What he did know was shallow and spoiled so he had not had too favorable of an opinion of her. She still did not deserve to die. He can only hope that her months carrying the babe that ended her life weren’t miserable.

You nod, “she was. She was happy spending your coin and showing off her home, talking about her handsome new husband. She was talking about how wonderful life was going to be when you eventually became a senator after becoming general. She had hope for a glorious life.” You say bitterly, knowing she didn’t sit out and enjoy the sunshine. She was too busy worrying about what other people thought of her. “She was happy in the way she can be.” You add, shifting from the bed.

“At least she had some happiness.” He closes his eyes and sighs. This was not the way that he wanted to come back home. “I need a drink.” He admits hoarsely, but he still opens his eyes to stare at the bodies. “But I do not want to leave them alone. A boy?” He chokes out when he realizes what the midwife had told him. Ceres had given him a boy, a child. He moves over to the bed and touches the small bundle. “I had hoped that she would not get pregnant those two days we spent together.” He admits. “But the gods had other plans.”

“I can get you a drink.” You promise, shifting off the bed and you nearly slip in the pool of blood. “Take your time. Be with your family.” You walk around to rub his back, “you are not to blame, Marcus. The gods have their plans. As mysterious as they may be to us. She is in Elysian Fields now with your boy. She’s at peace.” You try to find comfort in that, knowing that your sister was not a nice person but you hope she’s at peace.

He feels like a fraud, but he nods and turns to watch as you slip out of the room. Turning back to Ceres, he sighs and wonders why he is not upset that she has died. He feels guilty, because it is his fault, he got her pregnant. But he will not miss her. “You should have married someone else.” He tells her body quietly. “Someone who would have treated you like you wanted. Who would have been here for you.”

**** 

Ceres was laid to rest with the child who was named Fabius on a cooler day, the sun shining in the sky, and Marcus was numb. He hardly spoke and you figured that was down to his guilt of not being there for his wife. Your father demanded you return home but you begged for him to let you stay with Marcus. “His villa needs to be maintained until he can find another wife. I would like to honor Ceres by maintaining the home she loved so dearly. At least until I have a prospect for marriage.” You tell your father who narrows his eyes but nods, allowing you to remain with Marcus who has been visiting the baths frequently, drinking wine, and staying away from you. Maybe it’s because you remind him of Ceres in a way. You don’t take offense and you are working in his garden when you look up to find him standing there watching you. “Marcus.” You gasp, shifting to stand with dirt on your robes, “you’re home.”

You have been such a quiet strength. Steady and sure. Beautiful and blooming everyday. More and more wine is needed to combat the guilt that curdles in his stomach, the need that makes his loins ache every time he sees you. “It should have been you.” He tells you thickly, the wine heavy on his tongue and addling his brain. He means that you should have been his wife, that you should be in his bed but it comes out accusatory.

Your eyes widen, your stomach twisting, and you flex your fingers, “me? You wanted - if I could’ve taken her place so you’d have your wife and son, I would. I would do it in a heartbeat.” You promise with a choke, “she didn’t deserve that. Even if she was…I wish I was dead instead of her.” You declare, knowing he must look at you with resentment that you’re in his house and she isn’t.

“No!” Marcus frowns fiercely and grabs your arms, although he could never treat you roughly. He drags you closer to him, the wine on his breath washing over you. “You should have been mine. Not her.” He confesses right before he lunges forward and smashes his lips against yours with need and desire making him act foolishly under the inhibitions wine gives him.

You give in for a moment, leaning into his touch, and your hands grip his tunic, until you gasp and push him away. Your lips tingle and you shake your head, “you’re drunk and we - Ceres. We can’t do this.” You lower your hands from his tunic and step back, “I’m sorry.” You rush out before you run from the courtyard, your heart pounding.

Marcus calls out your name, feeling the loss of your warmth against him and feeling like he is about to collapse on the spot. You don’t want him and he has to live with that. Stumbling towards the villa, he decides to drink more to forget what your lips feel like under his.

**** 

You’d tossed and turned all night, not getting any sleep as you replayed the feel of Marcus’s lips on yours over and over again. They felt so perfect and the guilt rolls in your stomach again, making you nauseous. Ceres would kill you for kissing her husband. But Ceres isn’t here and Marcus is struggling. You dress and decide to find the man. He’s in the courtyard, fruit cut up on a plate for him along with cheese and meats and you approach him cautiously. “Marcus.” You murmur his name and he sighs, turning to look at you, “good morning.” You take a seat opposite him, picking up some berries. “About yesterday-” You begin but he cuts you off. “I’m sorry. I overstepped and I had too much to drink.” He explains and you reach for his hand, “it’s okay. I know you miss Ceres.” You squeeze his hand and he shakes his head, “you cannot miss someone you never truly knew.” He explains and you frown when he continues. “I feel guilty. I caused her death.” He says and you shake your head, “you didn’t cause her death. The gods wanted to take her. There’s nothing you could’ve done.” You promise, squeezing his hand again, “did you - yesterday you said it should’ve been me. I should’ve been yours. Did you- I’ve been thinking about it all night.”

He sighs, wishing that he had never said anything. He looks down at your hand in his and he can’t help but rub his thumb over your knuckles. “When your father approached mine about a marriage between Ceres and I, I told him that I wanted you.” He admits, glancing up at your eyes and then looking down at your joined hands. “I never wanted your sister.”

Your eyes widen, “me? But Ceres was the beauty. She reminded me of that every single day.” You scoff softly, knowing that you should be struck for speaking ill of your dead sister but her being gone doesn’t change the truth. “I wanted you. I - I tried to not be jealous but I was. She didn’t deserve you and I- I didn’t either but I wanted you. I want you.” You add, “it’s so wrong but I want you, Marcus. I love you.”

“I never loved her.” He admits in shame. “I love you.” He frowns. “I married her because my father threatened to disown me if I didn’t.” He swallows. “I want you.”

His words wash over you like sunshine and the guilt swirls in your belly but you can’t help yourself. You lean in to cup his cheek with your other hand, caressing it before you lean closer to softly kiss his lips.

His food is forgotten as Marcus drags you down into his lap. Your bigger size doesn’t bother him, in fact, he prefers the fact that his hands don’t fit around your thighs or waist. Deepening the kiss with a groan as he starts to harden underneath you.

You moan into his mouth, sliding your hand into his dark locks and you straddle him. His tongue pushes into your mouth and you are bold, sliding your tongue against his.

He tightens his grip on your body and pulls you closer, feeling more alive than he has since before his wedding day. His hands sliding over your back and down to your ass to grope it.

You grind down onto him, knowing you shouldn’t be doing this but it’s Marcus, the man you’ve loved for months and you want him. You want to be selfish after so long of putting other people first, like your sister.

His hands slip under your dress and he squeezes your thighs. Grabbing you greedily and gorging himself on your lush body. He breaks away from your lips and starts to kiss down your jaw, wanting all of you.

You gasp as he nips at your jaw, his hands sliding around to squeeze your bare ass and his calloused hands make your heart pound in your chest. “Marcus. I haven’t - I’ve never- but I want you. I want to give you all of me.”

You are untouched. Marcus pulls back and stares at you in wonder. “Are you sure?” He asks. “There is no taking it back.”

You nod, caressing his chest over his tunic, “it’s yours. No matter what happens. I’m yours, Marcus. I always have been. That’s why I wanted to stay here and help Ceres. Even if you weren’t mine, I wanted to be yours.” You confess, kissing your jaw.

Marcus is strong. He has pushed catapults and wagons that have been stuck in mud. He guides your legs around his waist and picks you up from his lap, chuckling when you gasp and cling to him. “I have you.” He promises. “You are perfect for me.”

You are shocked at the way he picks you up but you’d be lying if it doesn’t make your stomach clench in arousal at how strong he is. He carries you through the villa and you kiss along his neck, “my room.” You order, not wanting him to take you in the bed he shared with Ceres. He grunts in agreement and soon you are in your bedroom. He doesn’t put you down, he spins and presses you against the wall, his lips against yours within seconds and you gasp his name into his mouth.

Marcus grinds against you, pressing you into the cool wall and twitching against your core through the thin layer of his tunic. He could merely pull himself out from under the fabric and push inside you, but you deserve more than that. He drags down the top of your dress and kisses down your throat before he takes a nipple in his mouth to feast on your sensitive bud.

Your gasp echoes off the marble walls as he bites down on your nipple, your fingers tangling in his hair and your thighs tightening their grip around him. “Marcus!” You cry out, back arching to push more of your breast into his hungry mouth.

He loves your innocent cry, spurring him on and his headache is banished by the arousal that is coursing through his body. Sucking on the stiff peak and then laving it with his tongue before he is turning his attention to the other breast. Loving how sweet you taste.

Your hands caress his back as he takes what he wants from you and your legs shake when he sets you on the ground. “What-?” You gasp but he’s kneeling and shoving your robes up, exposing you to the arm before his face is buried between your thighs. You cry out and subconsciously lift your leg up onto his shoulder to grant him more room as he slides his tongue through your folds.

He never pleasured Ceres like this, never wanted to. But he had obsessed about the way you would feel and taste. His encounters with the camp whores were all women that looked like you and he could pretend he was with you. He had let one teach him how to pleasure her with you in mind even though he would never have imagined actually getting to touch you.

Your eyes flutter closed and you tangle your fingers in his hair as he slides his tongue into your cunt. You’re dripping wet with desire for him and you moan his name when he slides his tongue up and sucks on your clit. It’s intoxicating, like too much wine, and your stomach twists with arousal as he tastes you.

Marcus groans, completely obsessed with the way your cunt leaks for him. Flowing like a river and dripping onto his chin. He holds onto your hips and pushes his tongue deeper inside you.

You moan at the way he seems ravenous for you. His fingers digging into your flesh makes you whine and you rock your hips down to grind against his chin. “Fuck.” You curse, unable to stop yourself as you are devoured by him. “Oh gods. I- my stomach.” You moan, the sensation unfamiliar.

He growls into your folds, wanting to see you come apart for him, wanting to experience it. He doubles down on his efforts to make you cum, feeling your legs shake as you try to stay upright.

The whine that escapes your lips is almost inhuman and you gasp when he sucks on your clit again. It’s a sensation that has your chest heaving and you tug on his hair until finally, the high hits you. Your thighs shake against his head and you gush against his tongue while you cry out his name, head thrown back to hit the wall as pleasure overwhelms you.

Sweet as honey. Marcus laps at you frantically as you coat his tongue in your arousal. Working you through it and wanting every drop that he can get.

You slump over him, unable to help yourself as he works you until you are gasping for breath. “Marcus.” You whine, lowering your shaky leg and you shift to kneel, pushing his body back so you can press your lips to his, sliding your tongue into his mouth to sample yourself from him.

Marcus groans, letting you explore his mouth and taste yourself. His cock is throbbing but he isn’t rushing this. He doesn’t want it to end. “Bed.” He pants out when you pull away.”

You reluctantly stand up, taking his hand to guide him to the bed and before you do, you reach for the hem of his tunic. Your eyes meet his and he nods as you lift it over his head, exposing his body to your eager gaze. "Marcus." You moan, your hand immediately wrapping around his hard cock.

Marcus shivers, knees trembling at your inexperienced touch. “You are so beautiful.” He growls, watching you as you explore his cock. It might be the first time you’ve ever seen a man, let alone touched one.

You are entranced by him, the first time you've ever seen a man naked like this beyond the time you accidentally stumbled into the men's baths. You pump him, admiring the ridges and veins of his length. Thick in your grip, you look at him until he leans in to kiss along your throat, his hand reaching for the pin that keeps your dress together.

“I will be gentle.” He promises as he unpins your dress and lets it fall to the floor. Leaving you bare and he groans when he sees your nude body bare before him. “Fuck,” he hisses, twitching in your palm and leaking a heavy dribble of pre-cum from the purple head of his cock.

You swallow harshly, nervous that he doesn't like what he sees. You release his cock to cover your breasts, your arm crossing your stomach as you cross your legs. "I- I am not - I am not like Venus." You confess, knowing that your sister was much thinner and less curvy.

“You are better than all the goddesses.” Marcus breathes out, eyes drinking in your perfect form and he reaches for you. Pulling your arms away from your body. “Perfect. Beautiful. Luscious.” He pants slightly. “I have never seen anything more stunning than you.”

You inhale sharply at his words, your heart pounding and you offer him a breathless smile. “Marcus. I need you.” You plead, shifting to lay down on the bed and you drag him with you as you settle on the sheets.

This is the wedding night he had imagined. The woman he had wanted in his bed. Marcus presses his lips to every single part of your body that you had covered in embarrassment. Making sure that you understand how much he loves your body. “I love you.” He groans, settling between your thighs.

You caress his arms up to his shoulders and around his back as he grips his cock. Your nails dig into his flesh as he starts to push into you, “I love you.” You gasp, throwing your head back at the intrusion and you hiss at how he stretches you.

Marcus had taken Ceres with a sharp determination. Eager to get the act over with, but now he takes his time. The slow roll of his hips seems to take forever as he presses his lips to your exposed throat. “Fuuuuuuuuck.” He hisses in pleasure. “So right.”

He stretches you out and seems to pull you apart as he pushes deeper until he’s pressed as deep as he can go. The sting of him pressing through your innocence was minor and you tilt your head to press your lips to his again as you adjust to his girth. “Marcus.” You plead against his chin, “take me. I’m yours.” You vow, wanting to feel him.

“Mine.” He growls, nodding as he starts to pull his hips back to move. “You are so perfect.” He hisses, loving how soft you are. How you cushion his body and take the smooth thrust so easily.

You feel surrounded by him and you lift your hips to wrap your legs around him, your heels pressing into his thighs. “Gods, this - you feel so good.” You moan, having heard about the pleasures of the flesh but you’ve never experienced it before. It’s overwhelming and incredible.

Marcus bites down on your neck, nibbling and sucking as he starts to set a steady rhythm as he rocks his hips. Working his cock in and out of your hot cunt. “You are amazing, better than I imagined.”

You moan when he thrusts deep and your hands slide up into his hair, dragging his face to yours so you can kiss him. Your tongue slides against his, gaining confidence as he moves inside you. “I’ve imagined you far too many times. Felt so guilty.” You admit, “but you’re mine now.”

Marcus closes his eyes, moaning at your confession. He imagines you in this bed, touching yourself as you whimper his name. Grabbing one of your thighs, he pushes it back towards your chest, thrusting even deeper as his hips slap against yours. “Always yours.” He groans, twitching deep when you clench around him. “Fuck.”

His words make your heart lurch and you kiss every piece of skin you can reach. You whimper and rock your hips up to meet his, “Marcus. You - gods. You feel like you’re in my throat.” You confess breathlessly, “it’s so good. Fuck. I- I love yo- oh!.” You moan when he hits something inside you that makes your walls flutter and his chuckle puffs against your chin. He focuses on that angle and each thrust takes your breath away. “Oh gods. I’m going to - Marcus! Marcus!” You cry before your mouth opens in a silent scream as he sends you over the edge in a tidal wave that soaks his cock.

His teeth snap together, barely holding onto his control as he fucks you through the first orgasm you’ve had on a man’s cock. You are so incredibly wet, the noises coming from him rocking into you sound so loud. “So good.” He pants. “So perfect.” He feels his own orgasm rocketing closer, but he braces his hands on the bed, wanting to pull free before he cums so he doesn’t plant a baby inside you.

You moan his name, wanting to see him fall apart above you, and you caress his chest, “want to watch your pleasure.” You tell him with a moan and he grunts as he thrusts into you a few more times before he’s pulling free of your cunt, a grunt escaping his lips as his cock jerks with streams of seed that splatter your folds and nestle in the curls between your thighs. You reach down to wrap your fingers around his cock, pumping him to work him through it.

Marcus whines out your name, feeling that bliss that comes from sex, but it’s so much more. Rocking his hips into your hand and watching you touch him. “Fuck baby, I love you.”

“I love you too.” You promise him and he pants when you release his softening cock, sliding your hand up to cup his cheek so you can drag him towards you to kiss your lips. “I’ve always loved you since that day you carried Ceres home.” You promise, “I want to be yours, in every way.”

"I want that too." Marcus admits, although he feels guilty. "I hate that your sister died because of me, but I never loved her. I wanted you, from the very beginning. It is why I would always talk to you when you were chaperoning us."

You sigh, “I miss her.” You admit as he flops down beside you and pulls you into his side. You fling your leg over his, your hand caressing his chest. “I know.” He murmurs, knowing his guilt over losing his wife and child threatens to send him over the edge but you’ve kept him on stable ground. “Let us see what tomorrow brings. For now, I want to savor our time together.” You murmur, kissing his chest.

“I will talk to your father tomorrow.” Marcus tells you, his fingers stroking up and down your curves as he plans. He wants you to stay here, to be his wife. Especially now that he has touched you, gotten to have you. Once would never be enough. “He might wish for us to wait but I want him to know that I am honorable.”

You smile, shifting to look at him, “you want me to be your wife?” Marcus rolls his eyes and huffs playfully, “I love you. I just made love to you. I don’t want to stop making love to you. It’s the natural progression.” He says and you grin, letting him roll you over so his body is covering yours. “Your uxor.” You murmur, tracing his nose, and he kisses your fingertips when they brush his lips. “Mine.” He murmurs, leaning over to press his lips to yours.

The next day, Marcus has to drag himself from your bed. Only able to do so because of the promise of having you permanently. Going to speak to your father is troubling, he doesn’t look happy to see him and Marcus is nervous about the meeting. 

Your father looked up when Marcus was brought into the courtyard. The scrolls spread on the table before him and he doesn’t stand as the Major enters his home. “Acacius.” He greets him without his title, letting his distaste be known. “What do you want?” He asks and Marcus stands a little straighter. “I want to ask to marry your daughter.” He adds your name and your father’s eyes widen. “You want - she’s been staying with you to manage your household in your absence and I allowed her to remain there and you have the audacity to ask for the hand of my remaining daughter after you all but killed my other one?” He hisses, his eyes flashing, “do you wish to finish the job?”

The pang of guilt that fills Marcus crushes his heart, but he shakes his head. "Your daughter died in childbirth." He reminds your father. "Ceres wanted to be a mother and a wife. She was thrilled when she found out that she was carrying." He knows that he cannot blame himself in public for their deaths, not if he wants you. "I wish to the gods that their fate was different, but it was not."

“You have some gall, Acacius. Does my daughter know about your intentions?” He asks and Marcus nods, “she wishes to be my uxor.” He says and your father curls his lip, “foolish girl. Wanting to marry the first man that looks her way. If only she’d focus on eating less then maybe she’d find a man of higher status.” He hisses, “tell me…have you taken her?” He inquires, wanting to know if you are damaged goods.

Marcus frowns at the way that he speaks about you. He was good enough for Ceres but now he's not good enough for you? "I love her." Marcus admits. "She was the daughter I wanted from the very beginning. I knew that she was the one that made my heart beat."

Your father taps his fingers against the table, biting his lip until he looks at Marcus. “I will allow you to marry my daughter if you answer my question…have you taken her innocence?”

Marcus frowns slightly but he nods. "She was in my bed last night." He admits, thinking about how you had looked there. "I wish for her to be my uxor, and I will make sure that you do not lose another daughter to the birthing chair." He promises, knowing that you carrying his child will cause him to seek out the best midwives to care for you.

He hisses at hearing the confirmation of what he expected was the truth. "You have taken what wasn't yours to take but it is too late now. You will marry her." He demands, "and you will honor my daughter. I will not have her shamed. You will marry her in two weeks time, when your mourning period is complete and she will not be shamed for marrying you so soon after her sister died." He decides, "do you agree to these terms?

“I agree.” Marcus nods eagerly. “Ceres' memory will live on through your remaining daughter. She loved her sister and we will make sure that we live a life she would be proud of.”

Your father hums, standing up, and he steps towards Marcus with his hand out. "Do not let me down, Acacius." He demands and Marcus nods, "never. I will love and protect her." He promises and your father shakes his hand, his grip tight and almost painful but Marcus doesn't flinch. When Marcus returns, you are in the garden and quickly stand when he approaches you. "What did he say?" You ask, eager to hear good news. Marcus smiles, reaching for your hands, "he said yes." You squeal and cup Marcus's cheeks, leaning in to kiss him.

“I must go check in with the generals.” Marcus reminds you when you both finally come up for air several moments later. “We can celebrate when I return.” He must inform them that he will be marrying again. He doesn’t need to seek permission, but he has to let them know in case of his death.

You grin, excited to marry the man you love, and you peck his lips again as he steps back. He doesn’t get a chance to walk out the door when two soldiers appear on the doorstep. You frown, looking towards Marcus who looks confused. “What is going on?” He asks and the soldier hands him a scroll. You stand behind Marcus as he reads and finally, he turns to face you. “I am needed in battle. Tonight. I am ordered to leave with immediate effect.” Your eyes widen slightly and you shake your head in shock, “but we - how long will you be gone?” You ask and Marcus hands the scroll back to the soldier and walks back towards you. “I don’t know.” He says honestly and cups your cheeks, “I could be away a month. Or a year.” He admits, knowing that the battles can last months. “It’s a direct order from the emperor. I cannot deny it.” He says as he rests his forehead against yours. Tears sting in your eyes, knowing he’s being taken from you again. “I’ll be okay. I’ll maintain the villa and await your return so I can be your uxor.” You offer him a watery smile, trying to be strong.

“Stay here.” He nods in agreement. “You will be my wife as soon as I return and you have done well maintaining our home.” He praises, leaning in and cupping your cheek. “I love you.” He murmurs your name and presses his lips to yours.

You nod, a tight smile on your face, “I love you too.” You murmur, watching as he lets go of you and makes his way to the entrance, following the guards out of his home and leaving you standing there. Your dreams of him being your husband are delayed, but not shattered.

**** 

It’s been three years since Marcus has seen Rome. Three years since he had kissed you and walked away, hopeful to come home and marry you. He hasn’t heard from you, despite the messengers he had sent to his villa. He hadn’t even been allowed to go home before coming to visit the Emperor. He had been promoted to general while he was gone and he wearily wonders if the emperor would immediately send him off on another campaign or if he could finally fulfill his promise to you.

The fanfare is excessive and you are preparing yourself as you know who is making their way up the steps to greet the emperors. Your golden wreath and silk robes show your status and you are to be empress soon. Married to Geta in the coming weeks. The emperor had wanted a ceremony fit for the “greatest emperor Rome has ever had” and as such, the ceremony is still being planned. You stand tall, watching as the man you still love makes his way up the stairs until he comes into view. He looks older, more jaded, and you inhale sharply when you see him. His eyes are fixed on the emperors and your heart thumps in your chest, stopping when those dark eyes meet yours.

His eyes widen when he sees you. Still as beautiful as you were the day he left, maybe more so. Surprised to find you here and he almost moves towards you, ready to kiss you and gather you in his arms, but there is something in your eyes that makes him hesitate. A warning. He shifts back to Geta, and then towards you, trying to understand what is going on.

“Ah, General. Welcome home. Rome thanks you for your success. The emperors thank you for your success. Our future empress thanks you for your success.” He adds and smirks as he looks over to you. You move towards him and behind you is a little girl. She clings to your robes and Marcus’s eyes widen as you take her hand and walk towards Geta, taking his hand.

His world shifts and he stops breathing. The little girl is no more than a small toddler, a baby. He swallows harshly as he stares at the little girl and then back to you. Your eyes shift guiltily and he knows. The little girl is his. His heart pounds in his chest, but Geta is waiting and he nods. “It was my pleasure.” He croaks out. “For Rome.” There are many questions swimming in his head, but he doesn’t dare to ask them now.

"Perhaps the General would like to rest now. He's had a long journey to Rome and he is staying for the week of celebrations. He must require rest and wine." You murmur to Geta who is busy waving to the crowd. "You are quite right, my love. General, please rest. You'll be escorted to the rooms we have assigned you." Geta says and Caracalla smacks Marcus on the back, "go find a whore and celebrate our great victory." He grins and Marcus bows his head. He looks at you and you try to tell him with his eyes that you will find him and explain. There's so much to explain.

Being escorted through the halls of the large palace, Marcus tries to understand what happened. The child is his. He is certain, but why would the emperor marry a woman with a bastard? His stomach clenches in regret for not marrying you right away. He should have, that way you would not have been shamed while carrying his child. He wonders what your father had said, walking into the room he was given and sighing softly as the door closes behind him.

It takes a while for you to settle Ceres in her bed for her nap. The palace maids have offered to assist but you refuse, wanting to settle your daughter yourself. Once she's asleep, you make your way through the halls, knowing where Marcus is being housed, and you are wary as you look around before you knock on his door.

Marcus stares at the door for a moment, his pacing paused before he strides over to the door to open it. Seeing you, he steps back and opens the door wider in invitation rather than dragging you against him into the room like he wants to. He growls your name. “What the hell is going on?”

"I can explain." You rush out, sensing and then seeing his anger. "After you left...I found out I was with child and my father...he was furious. Refused to let me get word to you and ordered me to go to Rome to stay with his sister. I had the baby. A girl - and she - she's so much like you, Marcus." You offer him a soft smile. "I wanted to return to your home and wait for you with our child but - I didn't know - my father was arranging for me to marry the emperor. Geta had seen me when I was walking through the market and he - he inquired with my father about me. I have no clue why but he ordered me to the palace and proposed. I told him I was betrothed to you, even confessed about our daughter, but he didn't care. He has told everyone that the child is my sister's and you are the father. That I am caring for my niece. She isn't a threat to him, and he wishes for me to birth a boy for his successor. He cares little for the fact that I am no longer innocent, but I refused to marry him, then he - he threatened Ceres , he threatened our daughter, and I - I had to agree." You choke, tears streaming down your cheeks as you rush to explain everything that has happened since the morning he left his home.

Marcus clenches his jaw, his hands curled into fists. You wouldn’t lie to him, it’s not the type of person you are. “You- you gave birth alone?” He demands, feeling nearly sick since your sister had died in childbirth. You must have been terrified. Shaking your head, you reach out and touch his arm. “My aunt and the midwives were with me.” You explain. “She is beautiful. Wonderful.” You smile and his anger crumbles, reaching out and caressing your cheek. “I am so sorry I was not here, amor.” He swallows harshly, knowing that you cannot be his now. All his dreams have been crushed.

You sob, wrapping your arms around his neck. You have felt so alone since the time he left. You've fought for your daughter and your life and you are exhausted. His arms wrap around you and you finally feel like you're home. "I don't want to marry Geta. I love you. It's always been you, but Ceres - I would give my life to save hers."

Marcus can’t kiss you, you would both be killed for betraying the emperor. “You did the right thing.” He promises, running his hands up and down your sides. He had hoped you would be safe in his home, but apparently not. “The villa?” He asks.

“Your father is managing it. He - he spoke with my father and they decided to send me away and I think your father hoped to find you another wife when the time came.” You reveal, your hand finding his chest, wishing you could feel his heart but it’s covered by the armor.

He snorts and shakes his head. “I listened to his choice the first time.” He tells you. “He has no say in who I marry now.” He wishes that were you; but now you have Geta.

You have tears streaming down your cheeks, “this is so unfair.” You choke and slide your hand up to his cheek again. “I want to be yours but he has promised me that Ceres will want for nothing. He has promised a dowry beyond anything I could offer so she can be married to a good man.”

Marcus shakes his head, knowing that you might have thought he was dead. Or he could die, the gods know how he had almost been killed many times. “You did nothing wrong.” He promises you, leaning in and pressing his forehead against yours. “We are just….star crossed.” He sighs as he pulls back. “You will be the empress of Rome. I am just one of her generals.”

“I don’t want to be empress. I want to be yours.” You choke, surging forward to hover your lips against his but he doesn’t close the gap. You sob and shift away from him, “I will- I need to go back to Ceres.”

Marcus lets you pull away, not pulling you back against him. He swallows harshly as you turn towards the door before he softly says your name. Watching as you freeze and turn back towards him. “I never stopped loving you.” He promises. “I’m sorry I took too long to come home.”

You nod, wiping the tears from your cheeks, “me too. Perhaps we will be together in another life.” You murmur and open the door, stepping out before anyone notices and you make your way back to your room, your heart breaking with each step away from Marcus. 

**** 

You sip your wine, lost in your thoughts as the emperors argue in front of you. Ceres is with her nanny and you would rather be with her than sitting watching two grown men argue about what piece of land to conquer next. Marcus is sitting opposite you, the map of the empire laid out before you on the table and you aren’t thinking when you set your cup down and it tips, spilling wine over the map. “You need to pay more attention, you useless whore. That map will take months to recreate.” Geta strides over to you, his hand raised and he doesn’t think as he strikes you, his palm slapping your cheek. The sting makes your head fuzzy but this isn’t the first time he’s done this.

Marcus clenches his fist in anger, barely restraining himself from lunging at the emperor. He knows that he would be struck down by the guards around the room if he tried to attack the man for hitting you. “Blood often obscures our maps on the battlefield, emperor.” He tells them. “I can get our scribe to fix it.” He sends the men a tight smile. “You can claim it came from your latest victory.”

You don’t rub your cheek, knowing that will be seen as a weakness so you sit still, blinking to stop the tears pooling in your eyes. “Very well. I appreciate the offer, General. Now, what are your thoughts of venturing more into Africa to continue our conquests?” Geta asks. You look over at Marcus who has his jaw clenched and you refill your empty cup, needing something to drink. Geta has often told you about how attractive he finds you. You are like a goddess according to him but he never makes you feel worshiped. He’s hit you several times when you don’t please him and you endure it, knowing you have no choice, and you cannot allow him to inflict his hand on your daughter. “I’m sorry, Caesar.” You bow your head and he hums, caressing your sore cheek. “You must learn, dear one. I need a loyal and obedient empress.” He reminds you and leans in to softly kiss your lips while you try not to flinch.

Marcus clears his throat. “Africa will be a challenge against our army.” Marcus admits as he points towards the coast. “There are many fortified cities and they will have many defenses against invasions from the sea.” He can’t concentrate on you, knowing it would be dangerous to show the emperors that he has feelings for you. “We do not want a war that your children will still be fighting when they come to the throne.”

Caracalla growls and shakes his head, “who cares if we are fighting for 100 years? It is our duty to make Rome great and that includes adding to our empire.” Geta tuts, “now brother. We must control our urges. Less we destroy Rome in the process. Perhaps the General can suggest another area we can fight for?” He looks over at Marcus with his head tilted.

Marcus clenches his jaw and sighs. “Here.” He points to a cluster of Isles on the map. “There would be a good stronghold for Rome.” He decides. “We could position our troops and leave a permanent garrison.”

Geta nods, “that would be ideal. Create a naval base there.” He is intrigued, “brother?” He asks looking at Caracalla who is poking between you and Marcus with a funny look on his face. “It would be most advantageous.” He agrees after a moment.

Marcus nods. “We will need to send scouting ships first.” He informs them. “Send back detailed reports. See if they can land a small party to survey the best places to land.”

You watch the emperors absorb his words and you sigh, wishing your cup was refilled. “See it is done. I want to move as fast as possible.” Geta orders and he strides over to you. “I’m sorry, my love. Forgive my hand.” He coos, gripping your chin and he leans in to kiss you. You try not to recoil as his lips press against yours.

Marcus has to look away. His eyes dropping back to the map as he pretends that he’s unaffected by the sight of you kissing someone else. He wonders if you’ve been in Geta’s bed, although that’s not fair to you. He had left without marrying you. Hoping to be home quickly and he hadn’t. He had left you alone to give birth to his daughter.

You smile at Geta after he pulls away, “emperor.” You murmur and he grins, “my empress. Soon.” He promises and you nod, watching Geta move towards the stained map. “Speak to the others. Get this into action.” He tells Marcus who nods, “of course.”

Marcus bows his head respectfully to both of the emperors and then to you. His eyes meet yours briefly before he spins on his heel and marches out of the room. Eager to get away from the emperor before he does something to make him suspicious.

**** 

You are in the gardens with Ceres when you see Marcus walking through the vegetables you’ve been growing since you arrived at the palace. It calms you and allows you to think about anything other than your fate. Ceres runs around, giggling as she enjoys the fresh air and you freeze when Marcus spots you. His eyes immediately went to Ceres.

His daughter. Marcus watches the young girl, wishing that he could scoop her up, introduce himself to her as her father, but he can’t. He says your name when he finally looks away from her towards you. “It seems you still enjoy the gardens.”

You smile, brushing your dirty hands on your dress as you stand, “it’s peaceful. It feels like home.” You admit, “and I like the escape from the emperors.” You confess, glancing around. “Ceres. Come here.” You call your daughter over and she rushes over, giggling as she plucks a flower. “Ceres.” You pick her up and she looks at you, “this is your father. Your pater.” You say and she looks at Marcus, “pater?” She tilts her head and you brace yourself for Marcus’s response.

Marcus looks around in surprise, but the guards are too far away to hear the conversation. He murmurs your name in caution but you tilt your head. “People believe she is my sister’s daughter.” You remind him and he nods, stepping forward and kneeling down in front of the young girl. “Pater.” He confirms solemnly, reaching out to touch her cheek. “I was away for a long time, but I am home now.”

Ceres grins, excited to meet her father. You’ve always told her about him, told her stories of how brave he is, and she doesn’t hesitate to surge forward to wrap her arms around his neck. “Pater.” She says excitedly and leans back to kiss his cheek.

Marcus holds her tight, closing his eyes so he doesn’t cry at the simple acceptance the baby in his arms provides. He swallows and when he opens his eyes again, he finds you with tears of your own. “How old are you Ceres?” He manages, his voice rough with emotion.

Ceres pulls back to look at him, confused at the question and you chuckle, “she’s two.” You stroke her back as Marcus holds her and you see the emotion in his eyes. “Everyone thinks she is yours. Everyone thinks she was conceived during wedlock. She’s safe and she’s provided for. That’s all I want is for her to have everything I can give her.” You explain, “you can be her father in public.”

“But she calls you her mother?” He asks, wanting to understand the dynamics of your situation. “Yes, but that is because I am all she knows.” You explain and he agrees that it is a good explanation. “Do you- I don’t want to take her from you.” Marcus murmurs softly.

“You won’t. You’re her father. She needs her father in her life.” You say, “no one expects you to stay away. As far as everyone is concerned, she is not a bastard and she is my niece. It’s safer this way.” You assure him with a smile, “I want you to be in her life. In our life.”

“I wish I had married you before I left.” Marcus murmurs quietly, Ceres distracted by the emblem on his cuffs and not paying attention to the adults' conversation. “Your father wanted me to wait until the mourning period was over.”

You scoff, “he wanted you gone. As soon as you left, he was trying to get me in the emperor’s sights. Ceres was more likely to win his affection in my opinion but apparently he prefers women with more curves. Until I found out I was with child and my father sent me away.” You confess, “he never planned to allow me to marry you. He spoke with his contacts to ensure you were sent to war.”

Marcus hisses in anger, knowing now why other men had been rotated home and he never got the chance until he had been promoted to general. “I am sorry.” He murmurs softly. “I would-“ he bites his lip, knowing such comments are treasonous. “I wish things were different.” He admits softly. “If anything, I wish you were happy with your life.”

You swallow harshly, feeling the tears sting in your eyes, “we didn’t - we weren’t meant to be. If Ceres has an incredible life, then I’ll be happy.” You confess, “it’s all for her.” You smile at your daughter.

Ceres has ended up curled against his chest when she loses interest in playing with his clothes. Smiling back at her mama and slowly starting to close her eyes. Apparently Marcus is comfortable and she feels safe enough to go to sleep. “Would you marry him if you had any other choice?” He asks quietly, glancing around.

You glance around and look back at him, “I don’t want to marry him. I wouldn’t if I had another choice but I need to protect Ceres and I have no funds. If I didn’t marry him, I’d have nothing and my father will not help provide for Ceres. I’d have no home. No coin. I’d be all alone.” You confess, “and that scares me.”

“You wouldn’t be alone.” Marcus promises immediately. “She is my daughter and she will have everything I possess.” He licks his lips and looks at you softly. “Just like you will. I - I will care for you and provide for you if you choose not to marry him.”

Tears escape your eyes and you quickly wipe them away, “I have no choice. You know he’d rather kill me than let me go. No one says no to the emperor.” You whisper, “I still love you, Marcus. I never stopped. I’d marry you this second if I could.”

Marcus sighs softly and nods. “I know. If it were possible, I would say that we leave.” He wishes that the fates were different, but they aren’t. “Has Geta-“ he breaks off, unsure if he wants to know.

You shake your head, “no. No. He wants - he wants everyone to believe that I’m pure so there’s no question about his heir. Even if it were in private. Thank the gods.” You sigh, “and Ceres is well cared for.” You add, knowing that there’s nothing you can do. You’re resigned to your fate and tortured by the man you love standing in front of you.

Marcus feels guilty and he wraps his arms around his daughter. “I will always love you.” He promises, “I never stopped in all the time we have spent apart.”

Your heart breaks and you nod, “we were never meant to be.” You smile sadly as the guards approach and Marcus keeps his hold on Ceres. They say your name and you stand a little straighter, “the emperor is requesting your presence. Without the child.” He adds and you frown, “I will need to return her to her room then I will join the emperor.” You say and they nod, walking off. You sigh and look to Marcus, “Ceres, say goodbye to your father. We must go.” You order and she pouts, leaning in to kiss his cheek. “Bye bye.” She says and you take her hand after Marcus releases her with a “bye, puella.” He smiles and you guide her through the gardens, looking over your shoulder at him as he stands there watching you leave

Marcus sighs as you walk out of sight. He still has not been able to leave the palace, but he has sent word to his father. Wanting the estate to be prepared for his arrival after so long away from home. The elder man had not sent any message back, so he was uncertain if it had even arrived.

**** 

You stumble down the hall, your robes ripped and blood dripping from your nose as you blindly reach for the door that leads to the rooms where Marcus is staying. It’s been two weeks since he arrived and he’s spent a lot of time in the gardens with Cere, bonding with her, and you’ve allowed him the time. You’re confused about why he’s still here when the emperors want to send him out for more conquests but he’s here and you want him to enjoy his time with his daughter. Geta had called you to his rooms and you’d been curious. He’s kept himself busy with his whores and orgies and you have been happy that he hasn’t approached you even though your wedding day is quickly approaching. You bang on the door of Marcus’s room, your head fuzzy, and you feel sick.

Marcus frowns when he hears the frantic banging on the door, moving over from where Ceres is napping to fling it open. His eyes widen and he lunges forward to catch you before you collapse in a heap in front of his door. Exclaiming your name, he glances down the hall and listens for any sign of attack. “What happened?” He demands, pulling you inside and barring the door just in case there is some kind of uprising. The city has been uneasy and there has been a growing discontent amongst the people due to Geta and Caracalla’s endless spending on the war machine of Rome.

You cling to him, shaking in his arms, “Geta. He- oh gods, Marcus. He wanted me to- I said no and he-” Marcus holds you, “breathe. You need to breathe for me.” He demands and you inhale shakily. “Geta wanted to fuck me before the wedding and I couldn’t - I said no so he - he grabbed me and I fought. He hit me and slapped me and called me - called me a whore. Said he couldn’t - that I gave it up for you but not the emperor. I thought he was going to kill me but I managed to get away.” You rush out, your lungs stinging with the need to breathe.

“Fuck.” Marcus hisses and shakes his head in anger. “I’ll kill him.” He growls but you grab his arm. “Don’t- you will be killed.” You gasp, and he knows you are right, he would be struck down by Geta’s personal guard. “We will leave.” Marcus tells you instead, grabbing a cloth from the table to wet with water from the pitcher he had for Ceres. He wipes the blood off your face gently. “Now. We will take our daughter and leave Rome right now.”

You have to get away. Geta has hit you more times than you’d care to admit to Marcus and you couldn’t survive a marriage to him. Especially if he could go as far as to try and force himself on you. You are exhausted from fighting but you know you don’t have a lot of time. “We need to leave as soon as it’s dark. They will come for me again. He will want to apologize. That’s what he’s done before.” You confess and Marcus growls, “he’s tried to-?” You cut him off, “not - he just hit me when I did something wrong or I put Ceres before his needs.” You confess, “we need to go. Tonight.”

Marcus grits his teeth together, trying hard to keep from squeezing your arms in his own fit of anger. “Can you pack anything or would you rather leave it all behind?” He asks and you shake your head. “I could not get anything out of the palace without someone seeing.” Marcus rocks his jaw. “I will order a carriage to take my belongings to the villa tonight.” He decides. “You and Ceres will hide in the trunks. Dress her in multiple layers, yourself too.” He explains. “Only what you can wear on your body. My trunks will be handled with care by the men.”

You nod, knowing you need to take Ceres away from this place. All the coins in the world cannot make you stay in this place with the monsters who lead the empire. You can't help yourself as you surge forward to press your lips to Marcus's, adrenaline rushing through you.

He worries that you will hurt yourself, your face sore from Geta’s attack. “Amor.” He pulls back and searches your beautiful, swollen face. “We don’t have to do anything, I will get you away from here.” He promises.

You nod, feeling rejected but later when you think about it, you’ll appreciate his clear mind when you were all over the place. “I know. I- I love you.” You caress his cheek and look over at Ceres. “She looks so much like you when she sleeps.” You smile, wincing at the way your face aches.

“Have some wine.” Marcus urges, guiding you over to a chair and then rushing over to pour you a cup. “I love you, sweetheart. I will make sure that you escape this place.” He promises as he brings the cup to you. “You and our daughter. We can go to my villa and then I will make plans for us to leave Rome

You take the wine and down it, hands shaking and you know you can't take anymore from Geta. You look at Marcus after glancing at Ceres. "Get us out of here." You demand and he nods, leaning in to press a kiss to your forehead. You grip his forearm and lean against him, breathing him in.

He doesn't want to leave you, but he has to make arrangements. He needs to speak to the few officers that he trusts. Making plans to make sure that you get out of the city to his villa safely. Once you are there, he will still have to move quickly, but he will leave Rome behind with you and Ceres. Making a life together after so much time apart.

**** 

You wait for the knock at your door, Marcus told you the plan after you’d left his rooms with Ceres in your arms. It’s dark and you wrap the cloak around you and Ceres as you gather what you can carry on you and make your way to the door. A man stands there and you narrow your eyes at him, “he said the word was ‘lilies’ .” You nod, knowing that Marcus used your favorite flower as a code word, and you follow the man through the halls and out into the shadowed alleys of the palace.

Octavius is nervous as he guides you out of a side courtyard door that is suspiciously unguarded. His faith in his general is unwavering, but he knows that you are Geta’s intended empress. The door swings open silently to reveal the wagon loaded down with trunks on the other side of the thick wall. “Hurry.” He moves to the back and opens the largest truck to reveal that it is empty besides a thick fur for comfort.

You eye the trunk, nervous but you need to do this to save yourself and save Ceres. You get into the trunk and reach for Ceres. The guard places Ceres in the trunk and closes the lid. “Mama.” She whimpers and you stroke her hair, “it’s okay, my darling.” You coo, kissing her hair.

Every soldier loyal to him surrounds the wagon. Marcus himself is cloaked so he will not be recognized by the guards as they start to slowly travel down the narrow alleyway, away from the palace. His hand grips his sword under his cloak, ready to pull it from the sheath if one of the centuries moves wrong.

You are anxious, heart pounding as the wagon rolls you and Ceres from the palace. The noises make your stomach twist and you’re so nervous to escape. You trust Marcus but you don’t trust the palace, the guards. “It’s okay.” You murmur to Ceres, “it’s okay.”

It takes nearly two hours to slowly travel to his villa and Marcus frowns when he sees the overgrown tangle of vines and dead vegetation. It looks like the home has been abandoned since he had left to go to war. "Damnit." He hisses when the wagon pulls to a stop and he hops down. "Clear the house, find wood for a fire." he instructs his men before he strides to the back of the wagon and starts to open the trunk.

You look up, blinking at the brightness of the lanterns, and you inhale deeply, praying you’re safe. “It’s okay.” Marcus promises and you shake Ceres, waking her up. “Wake up, amor. We are home.” You murmur, rubbing her back as she wakes up and looks up at Marcus. “Pater.” She mutters, reaching for him.

Reaching down into the trunk, he easily lifts her out and then sets her against his shoulder. "Let's get mama out." He murmurs, offering you his hand as you sit up. "The villa is abandoned." He tells you quietly. "We might be safe here for a day or so, but I will need to find us a ship leaving port tomorrow."

You get out of the trunk, hand shaking in fear that the emperors have found you. “They will know I am gone by now.” You choke out, “we must leave as soon as possible. Ceres needs to be safe. You know they will kill her.” You tell him, aware of how insane they are. “We must protect her.” You reach out to caress the cheek of your daughter.

“We will stay tonight and then leave tomorrow.”‘Marcus promises, pulling you close and pressing a kiss to your forehead. “The men are gathering wood for a fire and we will make sure you two have a warm bed.”

You caress his chest, leaning into him and breathing him in. You feel safe for now and it doesn’t take long for you to settle Ceres in bed by the fire. You stroke her cheek as she sleeps, watching over her, and you look up when Marcus walks into the room. “My men are stationed at the entrances and I have someone watching the horizon for any intruders.” He says and you nod, looking back down at Ceres. “All this effort for me.” You sigh, “she would’ve been protected by the emperor and I- I would’ve been fed to the dogs after I gave him what he wanted.”

“You don’t know she would have been protected.” Marcus shakes his head. “Geta is spoiled and vicious, a dangerous combination.” He throws some more wood on the fire. “I would risk all of Rome for you, our daughter.” He tells you. “I would fight to the death in the colosseum for you.”

You shake your head, “hopefully it doesn’t come to that.” Your heart clenches at the thought of Marcus fighting for his life because of you. You stand up, leaving Ceres to sleep and you cover her up. “You need to rest.” You tell Marcus, noticing how exhausted he looks.

“You should sleep too.” Marcus comments, knowing he won’t sleep well tonight. He will be up and down, checking in with the guards. “Come.” He offers you his hand. “Come to the gardens with me.”

You take his hand, letting him guide you to the gardens and you squeeze his hand when you are surrounded by the walls of the courtyard. “My poor plants.” You sigh, “and vegetables. I worked so hard on that garden.”

“I know.” He murmurs, rubbing your arm. “Wherever we settle, I will make sure that you have a garden you can enjoy.” He promises. “The entire courtyard will be for your enjoyment.”

You hum, wrapping your arms around him and you tilt your head towards his, “thank you. For everything. You saved us and I- I love you so much.” You lean closer to kiss his jaw, “I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you too.” Marcus promises. “I prayed for you every day.” He doesn’t tell you how disappointed he was when he never heard anything from you; but he knows why now.

“And I you.” You promise, cupping his cheek, bringing his dark gaze to you. “I love you, Marcus. I always have. Since that moment you helped Ceres.” You tell him and his eyes soften, “I wanted it to be you. From the start.” You sigh and nod, leaning in to press your lips to his, “we will have each other. No matter what it takes.” You whisper against his lips until you tilt your mouth to deepen the kiss.

This time Marcus doesn’t pull back from you. He opens up, allowing you to take charge of the kiss, to control what happens now. So much of your life has been dictated and he wants you to feel like you are in control. Groaning into your mouth when you slide your tongue against his.

You slide your hands around to grip his neck, pulling him even closer and you moan as you slide your tongue into his mouth, loving how he surrenders control to you.

Marcus closes his eyes, leaning into the kiss and his hands slide down to your ass and he palms it gently. He loves your body, always has and even though you have been apart for so long, he wants you.

You moan into his mouth, feeling him harden against your hip and you slide your hands down to caress his chest, “I want you, amor. I need you.” You pant against his jaw, pressing a kiss to the stubble that’s formed there. “Please take me. I’m yours.”

"Here?" Marcus asks, but you are reaching down and squeezing his cock through his tunic and he groans into your neck as he presses his face into your pulse, inhaling your sweet scent. You would love having sex in the gardens, as much as you loved spending time here. "The wall," he growls, moving you towards it. The short wall would be perfect to prop you up against and make you cum.

You let him walk you backwards and when he grabs your thighs, he lifts you up onto the short wall. You’re already wet for him and you reach for the hem of his tunic, pulling it up so you can wrap your fingers around his hard length. “Marcus please.” You beg, needing him.

He knows you have not had any man but him between your thighs and he groans when you start to pump his cock. “Uxor.” He moans, knowing that while it might not be official in any legal capacity, you have always been his wife in his heart. From the very beginning. “I’ll give you what you need.” He promises. “Do you want me to fill you?” He asks softly.

You whine, “yes. Want to feel all of you. I don’t care.” You tell him with a moan as he shuffles closer. “Please, Maritus.” You demand and spread your legs wider for him. He hisses when he shuffles closer to slide the head of his cock through your folds.

He should work you open on his fingers, but he’s too eager for you to care. Gripping your hip as he starts to slowly push into you. “Fuck.” He pants your name, pressing his lips against yours as he breaks you open. He knows his soldiers won’t disturb him unless it’s important, so he can take his time with you.

You whimper, letting him work you open with each rock of his hips and you are moaning his name, pressing your lips to his chin as he takes his time, making you pant as he stretches you out for only the second time ever.

One he is fully buried inside you, he closes his eyes. “I love you.” Moaning softly, he tries his hardest to hold still while you get used to him, your walls fluttering around him so beautifully. “Fuck.”

You caress his shoulders over his tunic, admiring the way he looks in the moonlight as he starts to move inside you. “That’s it, Maritus. Take me. I’m yours.” You promise again, wrapping your legs around him.

He loves that you are calling him your husband, holding onto your hips as he sets a pace that is slow and steady. Taking his time to fill you and then pull back. Wanting to feel everything as he reacquaints himself with the way you feel around his cock.

Your head lulls back and he leans forward to kiss along your neck. “I love you.” You promise breathlessly, “I always have. Always.” You vow and he bites down on your chin, wanting to claim you completely and you gasp, walls fluttering around his cock.

Marcus growls out your name, feeling possessive over you. You’ve had his child, you’ve given him your innocence. You are his. He’s not leaving you or letting you go this time. He will fight to the death for you and Ceres.

You are breathless as he rocks into you, making you gasp his name, and you cling to him. The wall digs into your flesh but you don’t care. You want him to ruin you, to take what's his and he does. He rocks into you, hard but slow, and you whimper his name again. “Gods, that feels - right there.” You choke, clenching around him.

“Right there?” He huffs, smirking at the awe on your moon lit face. He rolls his hips again, wanting you to come apart for him. “Thought about you for three fucking years.” He confesses. “Imagined coming back to you every day, finding you in my tent.”

“I wish I was there. I would’ve made sure you had something to fight for. To make you feel good.” You promise with a gasp when he starts to thrust into you a little harder. “I would’ve been yours every single night.” You vow, “I am now. Yours. Completely. Always.”

“You are mine.” He grunts. “You, our daughter. You are going to be beside me for the rest of our lives.” He grits his teeth and lifts your legs onto his hips as he fucks into you.

You moan his name as he rocks into you, getting you closer and closer to your peak. “Yes. Gods, Marcus. I- fuck. I am going to- I need - your fingers. Please.” You beg, moaning and your thighs shaking but you need more to send you over the edge.

Marcus hisses at how close you are, releasing one of your thighs. Snaking his hand down between your bodies and pressing his thumb against your bundle of nerves. Pressing his lips to yours to absorb your moan as he starts to rub. “Cum for me, uxor.”

You can’t deny him even if you tried. You clamp down on his cock within seconds and cry out his name. You soak him and your chest heaves, finally returned with the man you love. You caress his chest, “fill me up. I don’t care.”

Marcus hisses in pleasure, your words sending him over the edge. He pumps deep twice more before burying his cock. Throbbing inside you as he paints your walls with his seed. He could get you pregnant again, but he doesn’t care, he would love that. Once you are safe, he wants more kids with you, and wants to be present for your time carrying them.

You moan his name, loving the way he fills you up without care and you know he will keep you and Ceres safe. No matter what. “I love you.” You pant and caress his chest over his tunic, “we will be safe tomorrow.” You promise despite not knowing what tomorrow holds. You spend several moments kissing and caressing while he softens inside you until he pulls out and tells you you need to rest. “Rest with me.” You order, noticing the darkness under his eyes.

“After a check in with my men.” He promises. He knows he will wake every hour to check in, but he will give you what you want and lay down with you. “Love you.”

You smile, caressing his cheek and he takes your hand to press a soft kiss to your palm. It doesn’t take long for you to fall asleep with him wrapped around you and he strokes your side as he watches you until he pulls himself away to speak with his men. Tomorrow, you’ll escape from the clutches of the emperors.

**** 

Marcus woke several times during the night but after the guards had traded off, he had stayed asleep. He had given strict orders to wake him if something happened, but he had curled around you until just before the sun broke the sky and one his men rushed into the villa. “General! We have a rider approaching!”

Marcus is swift to get out of bed, grabbing his chest plate and sword after tying his sandals to see what the rider has to say. It’s likely an order of execution from the emperors for everyone here. You gasp, waking up and you rush to get Ceres, wanting to protect her while you hear the news from the rider.

Coming out to the gates, Marcus frowns when he sees a lone rider, a dispatch messenger. His only job is to ride to the prominent villas with important news, although only one other man in Rome had known he was going to be here. The man he had left behind to send word about the order to execute Marcus for kidnapping the future empress. He must have been sent here by Octavious after he had parted ways once you were in the trunk. “News!” The messenger cries before he even pulls his horse to a stop. “Emperor’s Geta and Caracalla have been killed!”

You are holding a moaning Ceres, angry at being woken up, when you hear the news. Your eyes widen as you look over at Marcus. You don’t respond, too in shock, and you shake your head. “They are dead. The senate - they heard you had escaped and quickly moved to form a coup. They stabbed the emperors when they gathered to discuss your execution.” The messenger declares and Marcus frowns, “and where is your proof?” He asks and the man holds out a coin. It’s covered in blood but you know it. Geta had it on a string around his neck. A charm his father gave him when he was a boy. “He’s dead.” You choke in relief, “we are free.”

Marcus nods, turning and crushing you against him. “I will have to return to Rome.” He tells you quietly. “Stay with my men.” He still doesn’t trust it not to be some kind of trap; but he doesn’t want to worry you. “I will be back tonight.” He promises.

You cling to him, “Marcus. What if it’s a trap?” You ask, knowing that the emperors are evil and you wouldn’t put anything past them. “I know, but I have to make sure. We need to know for certain.” He says and you cup his cheek, “come back to us.” You demand, pressing your lips to his.

“I will.” Marcus presses his lips to yours again and again. “You are my uxor.” He tells you quietly before he looks to the men who follow him, gathered around him silently without you noticing. “Protect the general’s family with your lives.” He orders them.

Ceres reaches for her father and he pulls her close for a second, kissing her cheek. “Be good, my girl.” He murmurs and she pouts, “pater.” She wants him to stay but you know he has to go. He will never settle without knowing for certain that you are safe. “It’s okay, amor.” You murmur to her, “pater will be home soon.”

“Help her restore the villa.” He instructs his men, hanging you a large bag of coins. “I will be back as quickly as I can.” He promises again before stealing one last breathtaking kiss.

You watch him go, your heart clenching in fear that this is a trap and he’s going to be killed. You hug Ceres tight, the bag of coins in your other hand, and you look at his men. “Well, gentleman, let’s get started. We have a lot to do to make this place suitable for the general’s return.”

**** 

Three days later, a rider approaches, the guards tense and gripping their swords as they wait. Until they recognize the general, calling out for the gates to be opened, to greet Marcus as he comes galloping into the courtyard calling for you and Ceres as he jumps off his horse.

You are in the garden with Ceres, showing her how to plant some flowers and you look up when you hear his voice. “Pater!” Ceres shouts and runs towards the gate where Marcus is and you are relieved.

He’s relieved to see his daughter come careening towards him. Bending down to one knee so he can scoop her up with a grunt. “Little one!” He hugs her close and kisses her cheek. “Have you been good?”

Ceres nods, hugging her father tight with her arms wrapped around his neck. You walk over, your heart thumping in relief, and you rush towards him, wrapping your arms around him and Ceres and you press your lips to his.

“I’m home, uxor.” Marcus promises you with a soft smile. “The emperors are dead.” He had made sure of it and stayed for the coming changes to Rome. “You and I are to return to the city to be married. And I have been promised that we will not be sent off to war for at least a year.”

Your eyes widen as you look at him, “we are to be married?” You ask and he nods, “the senate have approved it. I have claimed Ceres. We can be at peace.” He vows and you choke, “finally.”

“Finally.” Marcus smiles at you and leans in to press his lips to yours. “We will be together. And I will make sure that you never have to worry about your future again.”

**** 

You smile at Marcus as you look out across the fields, the baby boy at your breast as you cradle him while Marcus shows Ceres how to plant a seed for vegetables. You’re married and at peace. What you’ve always longed for. Marcus may have rescued your sister that day in the market, but he’s saved your life and you’ll always love him for that.

[and-so-he-rambled]

Costume

(Gotham Rogue Vlad Masters)

Masterlist

“You’re going to fight Batman?” Daniel’s curious eyes peeked over the table, watching Vlad feed material into the sewing machine.

“Not exactly, I’m planning to avoid him as much as possible, but I’m sure we will cross paths.”

“Are you going to fight him with your superpowers?”

“No, remember how no one can find out we’re special? Not even Batman, he’d turn us in to the bad men.”

“Oh.” Daniel continued to watch him as he cut and arranged black material. He’d gone light on any body armour since he didn’t need it and needed the extra movement. He did have some for appearances and in case his powers still were on the fritz by the time he went out. He was getting better with time, but it wasn’t perfect.

“You should be a Badger.”

Vlad paused, looking at the child.

“Pardon?”

“A badger! Wait here!” The boy ran off, leaving Vlad staring after him.

He returned with his animal encyclopedia, plopping in on the table and pointing to a honey badger.

“You call me little badger and so Jazz showed me, I’m this one.” He pointed to the badger on the next page, a European badger. “But these ones are called Honey Badgers and they’re really cool and mean, and you should be one like Catwoman is a cat.”

Vlad thought that over. It did seem on brand for a Gotham rogue to have a theme, and while he was only planning on petty thievery it couldn’t hurt. He had gone more for the vampire look once his fangs had grown in but a badger was different enough that nobody would connect the two identities.

“I’m not calling myself Badgerman.” Daniel giggled at that, delighted. “Perhaps you’re on to something though.”

“Would you help me pick a design? I just can’t choose myself.”

Daniel’s eyes lit up in joy as he ran away to go find his drawing pad.

Jazz and Daniel worked together for the next few hours, his sister keeping him from making it too complicated. They ended up with a catsuit with a gray stripe down the back with lots of secret pockets and zippers. The mask he had to make a few alterations on, but it had a more American badger design with white down the center of the face and up the cheeks, leaving two stripes of black over his eyes. Jazz vetoed the full cape, with both Vlad and Danny complained about, but he managed to sell her on the shoulder cape.

“I can’t believe I’m going to become a two bit criminal for a giant bat.” Vlad murmered at he started in on his sixth hour of costume creation. He’d cheated with being able to change his ghost clothing at will after a few years of trial and error, this was hard. “I was supposed to be a scientist.”

Jazz was face down on the table, but she raised an arm to synthetically pat at him.

“Th’ goal is t’ avoid th’ bat.” She reminded him sleepily before falling back alseep. He took a break to bring her to bed.

The first goal when they got a payout was to get an apartment with their new identities. As much as he wanted them to stay ghosts it wasn’t feasible for the kids. They needed lives, to be children. Daniel was getting better control of his powers with daily training and eventually he might be able to go to school.

Vlad knew they couldn’t stay in Gotham forever, that once day the government would catch up to them and they’d have to disappear again, he was pretty Jazz knew it too. He needed to give them something before that happened. This time he’d spread the money into off shore accounts, they’d never be left with nothing again.

[rhiaghostriley]

MDNI - Ghost × reader - toxic relationship

The loud thud resonating in the mess hall draws all the attention on it, including yours. As you turn your head toward the noise to see what caused it, you freeze on the spot : Lieutenant Simon Riley, looking at you with furious eyes, his hand deeply buried in the plywood next to his head. Looking at you, and the guy you are openly flirting with.

Dammit.

Before you can even think about moving, he’s gone. But you know you will hear about him soon enough.

Fuck it, after all. You were doing nothing wrong. You were not together anymore. And it was his call, this time. This hundredth time… You don’t even remember how it started, to be honest. In the beginning, he was the stern, cold, forever masked Lieutenant of Task Force 141, and you were nothing more than one of the new recruits. But you made a joke during a meeting, and it made him smile, a rare occurrence for him. He got intrigued, wanted to know more about you. And from a few drinks at the nearest bar with the team, to asking him his opinion about the outfit you should wear, you’ve grown closer. And you’ve grown to know the man under the mask. With all his good and his bad sides. A lot of bad sides. But red flags are just flags when you look at it through pink glasses, right ? And you would have managed to stay away from him if the man wasn’t able to make you cum just by looking at you. But God, in his infinite cruelty, gave him the power over your body and your feelings. So here you are, wondering whether you should go after him or not, even when you know it will end badly. And remembering the first kiss…

“Ya gonna be late for meeting.” A husky voice behind you, one which can belong to only one person, especially with that thick British accent.

You smiled, blowing out some smoke from your cigarette. “Gonna report me, Lt ?”

“Don’t give a fucking shit.” He sat beside you on the bench. “Ya too young to smoke that much.”

You giggled, looking at the cigarette between your fingers, then held it out to him. “Just have to ask, if you want one.”

He chuckled, taking the cigarette from your hand. “Ya know me, I don’t ask. I take.”

“The only right way to live.” You chuckled back.

You stayed a few minutes silent, until his gravely voice speaks again. “Gonna tell me what’s wrong, or I’ll have to get it out of ya ?”

You sighed. No need to pretend, he knew. He always knew. You gave a sad smile, and trying to sound playful you said “Been dumped. Again.”

He chuckled. “Ya gonna have to stop dating boys, and try men, little one. Ya’re too much to handle for these kids. Ya need someone who can handle himself. And you.”

Your breath caught in your throat and you chuckled. “Like you ?”

These two words. The words you should never have said. The words that made your life heaven on earth and a living hell at the same time. Because next thing you knew, you were sitting on his lap, kissing him ravenously, his lips demanding, his hands wandering, making your skin tingle and your insides clench. He was proving you that indeed, he was the kind of man taking without asking, and you let him.

From then, it all went spiraling. Addicted to his touch, repulsed by his toxic demeanor, when he was pulling, you were pushing. And when he was the one pushing, you were crawling back to him like a lost puppy. He hated that he needed you, loved that you needed him. You hated that he made you lose all common sense, and loved every second spent naked against him. The damn man did know how to get under your skin as much as under your sheets.

Without realizing, you are walking around base, trying to spot him everywhere you look. Not that you feel bad for what you did, but you’d rather find him than run into him at the least expected moment and let him have the upper hand. The hole in the wall of the mess hall was enough of a proof that he was pissed, and he was like a bottle of coke that you shook too much. You would never know when it would explode, but it would. But he was nowhere to be found, and as your steps start to lead you back to your quarters, you feel your eyes water in apprehension. First for you, and then for him. For all you know he could be either in his quarters, letting out some steam on video games, or in a bar, trying to put up a fight with any bloke who would look at him in a way he wouldn’t find acceptable.

But there is also sadness in your heart. Because as much as you want to keep him away from you, you can’t. And you dread the day your ways will split for good. But this day hasn’t come yet…

As you enter your room, slamming the door shut behind you, before you have time to turn the light switch on, you feel a hand wrap on your throat and pin you against the wall. In a matter of seconds you try to comprehend what is happening, and not to freak out. But then, things get crystal clear. From the gloved hand around your throat, to the smell of Bourbon and tobacco hitting your nostrils, now you know.

“Think ya can replace me so easily, little one ?” The grip on your throat is not tight, barely uncomfortable, just strong enough to keep you still. It’s not meant to hurt you, just to remind you who is in charge.

“Ghost, let me go.” Your breath is a little uneven, your voice trembling.

“Now why would I ?” He grunts. He is still angry. “We have a few things to talk about before. Who is he ?”

“No one.” You sigh. You know it won’t be enough. “Name’s James. I don’t know more about him. It was the first time we talked.”

His grip loosens a bit, but not completely. He presses his forehead against your temple and inhale deeply, taking in your scent. “Why would you talk to him ?”

Your breath shortens a bit, because you know that whatever your answer might be, it wouldn’t be good enough for him. And the worst part is that there was no answer, you were just making small talk while lining up at the mess hall for lunch. But still you have to answer something. “We are planned on a mission together next week. We were just trying to get to know each other better. That’s it.”

“That’s it ?” He growled, then chuckle. “That’s it.”

After a few more seconds he finally lets go of you, and turns around, walking toward the nightstand where a half-empty bottle of whiskey is waiting. He takes a long swig, then shakes his head. “It’s the first time I see you talking to another guy. I don’t like it.”

You stand against the wall, not wanting to come closer, your arms crossed over your chest. “Yeah, I got the hint when you punched the wall.”

He scowls. “Don’t go there. It was the wall or his face. Better the wall, right ?” He takes another swig.

You look away, shaking your head. “I don’t understand. You left. Why do you mind ?”

He chuckles bitterly and sit on the edge of the bed, taking a sip of whiskey again. “That’s a hell of a good question.” He rubs his face with one hand, the bottle dangling from his other hand as his elbow rests on his knee. “I have no fucking clue. Ya’re my fucking Kryptonite.”

You sigh, feeling your eyes well up. “No, not Kryptonite. You’re like heroin. You feel like heaven when you’re inside me, but when you’re not I miss you as much as I hate you.”

He growls. “Then find a damn cure. Your own version of methadone, I don’t give a fuck. Stay. Away. From me.”

You let out a bitter chuckle without looking at him. “I tried. You punched a wall, remember ?”

He scowls, his voice raising. “Not a cure that means making fun of me in front of the whole goddamn base !”

You raise your voice to match his. Not something you’re used to do, but today you’re too angry. Today, it reached a new level of toxicity. And you, as well, can play dirty. “Oh, so you’re okay with me being fucked, but not by another soldier ?”

He yells even louder. He needs to have the upper hand, to show that he is more, in every way. “Ya want to play the base’s slut ? Get laid by every fuckin’ soldier around ? Fine, be my guest ! I won’t stop ya ! But don’t come back crying like you always do !”

That stings. More than it should. Because that’s not what you want. But god are you able to, even if just to piss him off a little bit more. “And what, you’re going to punch another wall ? Plus, I wouldn’t come back if you were strong enough to say no, for once !”

You knew. You knew it wasn’t a good idea to use the words “not strong enough” when talking to him. And as the bottle of whiskey crashes on the wall right next to your head, you could only think that you should have known better…

You’re both frozen. Him in anger, you in shock. Your body starts to tremble as more tears runs down your cheeks, and you stare at him, through him, eyes wide and face strained.

He, on the other side, stares back at you, chest heaving with every ragged breath he takes, anger creeping in his mind like poison as he tries to convince himself that it is your fault and not his. As he tries to persuade his scarred mind that he is not a violent guy, that he is not like his father, that it was an accident.

He takes a deep, steadying breath, taking a shy step closer to you. Then another. Then a third one, closing the distance between you two. Slowly, like dealing with a scared animal, he raises a hand to your face, putting it on your cheek, tilting his head as he whispers “I am sorry.”

And as you burst into tears, his other hand reaches for your other cheek, cradling your head in his hands, burying your face in his chest. “Ya know I would never hurt ya.”

But the truth is that he does. Every goddamn day. When he looks at you, when he touches you, when he ignores you. It hurts. But the brain is a wicked machine, and you like it rough.

He presses his lips against your forehead, whispering sweet nothings as he tries to calm you down. How beautiful you are, how soft you feel against him, like a snake trying to convince you to bite the apple, he sneaks into your brain, telling you what you need to hear.

His lips leave a trail of soft kisses from your forehead to your temple, then down to your cheek. Your jaw clenches, knowing what comes next, trying to gather the strength to say no. Not because you don’t want to. Quite the opposite.

When his mouth finds yours, awaking the familiar warmth in your chest, you try. You really try. But it comes out barely above a whisper. “Ghost, no, don’t.”

But he doesn’t listen. He doesn’t ask, he takes. He shuts you up with a kiss, his lips soft and tender at first, but quickly turning more demanding, more hungry. More desperate. And you can’t help but give it back.

With a sharp intake of breath, he buries his hands in your hair, grabbing a fistful of it to hold you still as his tongue presses against your lips, demanding entrance. Your lips part and your tongue reaches his, addicted to the bittersweet taste of bourbon and the lingering scent of smoke.

His body pins you against the wall, giving you no other choice than to put your hands on his waist, his chest pressed against yours, his hips pushing. You can feel how turned on he is, the bulge in his pants rubbing on your lower stomach, making you gasp. And he takes it as a green light.

His hands move from your hair to your chest, his touch rough when he grabs your breasts through the thin fabric of your top, eliciting a small whimper from you. It doesn’t stop him though. He knows you like it that way, despite you trying to pretend otherwise the first time. That is certainly why you and him were a match made in hell. You like when it hurts and he doesn’t know how to be soft.

Before you have time to say anything, his hands are under your top, tugging at your bra to try and move it down. His lips haven’t left yours still, his tongue fighting yours for dominance in your mouth, even if you know he will win.

His fingers find your nipples, pinching them hardly, sending a jolt from your breasts to your cunt. When you moan softly, you can’t feel him grin against your lips. “That’s it, baby girl. Let yourself go.”

As one of his hands keep working on your breast, the other moves down toward the buckle of your belt, calloused fingers grazing the soft skin of your belly, making you shiver. You know what comes next, and the heat between your thighs forbid you to act like you don’t want it.

He works fast on your belt and the buttons of your jeans, his hand already slipping in your panties, eager to touch you. He is neither slow, nor soft, but you don’t mind. All the pent-up tension from the last hours needs to be released, for you as much as for him.

When his fingers reach your pussy, tracing your slit to find your entrance, he stops kissing you, keeping his lips glued to yours, and groan. “Fuck, so fucking wet already. You like me angry, angel. Good to know.”

Inside, you want to scream, the wave of feelings coming at his words overwhelming. Anger. Pain. Self-loathing. Because he is right. He might be a walking red flag, but your red flag is that you like it. But as overwhelmed as you feel, it’s not enough to mutter the craving you feel for more of his touch. And all you can do in response is to let out a soft moan as he slides a finger into you, his thumb rubbing your already throbbing clit in expert circles.

His voice rings in your ear like poisoned honey, dripping from his lips right into your brain. “Come on little one, talk to me, use your words. Ya want more ?”

All you can do is nod, and whimper a small “yes”, because of course you want more.

He chuckles, nibbling at your earlobe as he slips a second finger into you, shutting your brain out. You find yourself grinding your pussy in his palm, feeling the too well known sensation of your orgasm building in the pit of your stomach. Damn him for knowing so well how to play your body like a violin.

He is all over you. His lips kissing the supple skin of your neck where it meets your shoulder because he knows it is your favorite spot. His left hand still pinching and rolling your nipple because he knows it helps the tension building faster. And his right hand in your panties, fingers pulling in and out of your pussy at the rhythm of your moans flattering his ears. He loves it. He needs it. He picks up the pace of his fingers, going harder and deeper, with only purpose to make you cum. And it works.

You keep grinding against his palm, your moans getting louder by the second. “Fuck, Ghost… Don’t stop.”

You can hear the smirk in his voice as he whispers in your ear “I don’t intend to, baby girl. Do me a favor, make it loud.”

And you comply. Not that you could help it, anyway. When your pussy starts to clench around his fingers and you keep moaning his name louder, he moans as well, still rubbing his cock on your lower stomach, needing the friction to help him holding back. He revels in the feeling of making you break so easily, feels powerful when you moan his name without being able to stop, relishes knowing that you still want more. “That’s my good girl.”, he praises softly.

But the softness doesn’t last long, and before you have time to get back from your high, the hand that was delightfully torturing your nipples is now unbuckling his own belt and buttons, letting his jeans fall down to his ankles. He steps out of the pile of clothes, and the same treatment is given to yours. In one swift motion, he picks you up, wrapping your legs around his waist, pinning you against the wall, rubbing his cock against your slit like his life depends on it. He doesn’t care that you just cummed and that your body is too sensitive still. He is starving. And you’re the only meal he wants.

With a growl coming from deep inside his chest, still carrying you, he takes a few steps back and sit on the edge of the bed with you still in his lap. His hands let go of you, just enough time to remove your top and his. He needs to feel your skin against his.

Without warning, he grips your hips and moves you down on him, just enough to let the first inches of his cock slide inside you. And you don’t even try to protest, because you want it too. You need him to fill you up, to stretch you out. You need him deep inside you so you can feel that for a few minutes you two make one.

When your eyes roll back in your head he lets out a groan. “Easy, little one. Ya’re going to take it all like the good fucking girl you are, but I don’t want to hurt ya. I told ya, I’d never.”

Still, he bites down on his lip, the effort of holding back from pounding into you already taking a lot from him. He starts to move slowly, giving you a few more inches of his dick with each thrust, letting you adjust and at the same time craving for more. His grip tight on your hips, dirty reminder of who is in control, he keeps moving, nice and slow, until he is buried into you to the hilt. “Fuck baby girl, you feel too good for my own sake.”

There it is, the hint of desperation in his voice, the only sign he would give you that he needs you as much as you need him. Only when he is deep inside you, body and soul.

When he feels you relax a little around him, his left hand wraps around your waist, his right hand reaches for your throat. Not too tight, just enough to control you. He uses it to settle the pace, his face buried in your hair as he takes in your scent. Your moans are like music to his ears, he is not far from cumming already. “Come on, little one. Ride me. Ride me hard.”

Your grip is tight on his shoulders, holding on for dear life as you move your hips up and down. Every move you make makes you whimper and moan, your eyes closed tight in pleasure, a thin veil of sweat covering your skin.

His grip on your throat tightens a little. “Look at me. Don’t you dare close your eyes. Look at me when I fuck you senseless.”

His grip not loosening, he uses it to make you move faster, making you take him deeper, seeking for both your and his release. He needs to make you cum again, it’s the proof that he has a total control over your body.

Your jaw hangs open in a silent gasp and you open your eyes to look at him, your moans turning into cries of pleasure as he keeps pounding into you faster. His gaze never wavers from yours when he starts to groan with each erratic breath he takes. “Come on, angel. Cum for me. I know your close. Cum for me again.”

And as if your body was listening to him more than to you, a second orgasm hits you like a freight train, making you squirm and writhe in his grip.

“That’s it, baby girl. Let it out, I want to hear ya fucking scream my name.” He keeps pounding, milking you out of your pleasure, and cumming right after you. “Fuck, you’re going to be the death of me, ya know that. I. Fucking. Hate ya.” That’s the last words you hear before he slams into you one last time with a loud groan, and stops moving.

His grip on your throat loosens, his hand moving to the back of your head, bringing you close to him and burying your face in his neck. He stays silent a few minutes, his hand stroking his hair. And your eyes fill with tears, knowing damn well what’s coming.

He has sobered up. Still stroking your hair, he whispers in your hear. “We have to stop it, love. We’re just hurting each other, and I hate hurting you.”

His body tenses as he feels your tears in his neck. He takes a deep, steadying breath. Not out of anger this time. Out of desperation and pain. He keeps whispering. “You deserve the world, and I leave nothing but chaos in my wake.”

He pulls you away, just enough to look into your eyes. He lays on the bed, keeping you in his lap, his arms around you like a vice as you rest your head on his chest. “You were right earlier. I am not strong enough to say no. You will have to be strong for us.”

He pauses as he feels his voice trembling. He hates being weak, but he knows that if there is one person in the world he can allow himself to be weak with, it’s you. “I hate that I have to ask you that, but you have to stay away from me. I love you too much to keep destroying you.”

And your grip on him tightens as tears keep straining your face. Because you know damn well that you will never be able to stop coming back.

[kckt88]

Rooks Rest & The Silver King.

Summary:

The dragons dance and a Regent is crowned.

Warning(s): Swearing, Dragon Battle, Injuries, Blood, Anger, Resentment, Argument, Smut, Rough P in V sex.

Word Count: 3020.

Author Note: A companion piece to Wedding & Consummation/Bath Time/Arrival(s)/Mother & Father/Petitions & Final Tributes/The Hand, The King & The Dragon/Dragonstone/Blood & Cheese/A Time for Grief/The Gullet/Taking of a City/Harrenhal and the Rivers/The Gods Eye, The Fallen Queen & New Beginnings.

But can be read as a one-shot.

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the House of The Dragon or Fire & Blood characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used.

Comments, likes, and reblogs are very much appreciated.

Picture credit: Battle at Rook's Rest by Kamil Winczewski @hive_mind_3ddesigns

Aemond stretched his arms across the bed and panicked when his hand met the cold empty space next to him.

“Vaera” said Aemond as he shot up, looking wildly around the room.

“Husband”

Aemond looked towards the lounge area and breathed a sigh of relief when he spotted Vaera and Rhaegar sitting together, eating breakfast.

“Why didn’t you wake me?” asked Aemond as he clambered out of bed and pulled on some breeches and a loose tunic.

“I didn’t want to disturb you” replied Vaera.

“Daddy. Sit” said Rhaegar patting the seat next to him.

Aemond smiled slightly as he sat next to Rhaegar, who was busy colouring.

“What are you drawing?” asked Aemond curiously.

“A picture for Aemon. Mama said we could put it in his special place” replied Rhaegar.

Aemond took Vaera’s hand and squeezed it tight.

“Are you, ok?”

“I’m ok” replied Vaera quietly.

Since she had almost thrown herself from a window in the Red Keep, it had taken some time for Vaera to come back to herself.

Aemond and Rhaegar were a constant presence by her side. Helping her during her darkest days. Where they would curl up together in their chambers and hold each other until the darkness ebbed.

Even though his ashes had been entered into the great sept. Aemond had a special plaque made in the gardens for Aemon. Despite his desire to be just like his father, Aemon always loved the gardens, especially when he would chase after Rhaegar the pair of them would roll on the grass together giggling.

It gave Vaera a sense of comfort, as she would often spend hours just sitting in front of Aemon’s plaque talking and reading his favourite book.

Her other salvation came in the form of Cannibal.

Her fiercely loyal dragon who gracefully took to the skies with his rider and flew for as long as they both needed too. Sometimes Brightfyre would accompany them, the dark blue scales of Aemon’s dragon shimmering in the sunlight as he broke through the clouds, chirping expectantly at Cannibal who had no qualms about keeping his hatchling in line as he would often throw a customary snarl in his direction.

But the war between the Greens and the Blacks still raged.

Aemond was still no closer to discovering what had happened to Lucerys and the realm was up in arms over the murders of Jaehaerys and Aemon.

Something had to change, Daemon still held Harrenhall and Rhaenyra remained holed up on Dragonstone.

Aegon had grown tired of his grandsire’s inaction and lack of progress, so he removed him from his position as Hand of the King and temporarily promoted Ser Criston Cole instead.

The former Kings guard offered a more aggressive strategy.

One that involved Aegon, Aemond and their dragons. Vaera offered to help but it was imperative that she remain in Kings Landing.

Her Cannibal was the second largest dragon in the world, and he would provide an ample defence should the need arise.

In addition to the dragons Vhagar and Sunfyre, Aegon and Criston marched out of King's Landing with 100 knights, 500 men-at-arms, and three times as many sells words: thus about 2,400 in total. The forced addition of men from Rosby and Stokeworth would have increased this to slightly under 3,000 men by the time they reached Duskendale.

First they reached Rosby and Stokeworth, whose lords were Blacks but had been captured in King's Landing during the initial coup, and agreed to bend the knee in order to spare their own lives. Having secured their submission, Aegon’ s host passed bloodlessly through both castles and even added their strength to his own.

During the sack of Duskendale, Lord Gunthor Darklyn was beheaded for treason. Most of his household knights submitted to King Aegon, although a few loyal knights decided to follow Gunthor in death.

Then they marched to Rooks Rest, where a trap was set for the Blacks.

Lord Staunton closed the gates of Rook's Rest, but he was unable to prevent Criston from burning his fields or killing his smallfolk and livestock. He asked for assistance from Queen Rhaenyra Targaryen by sending a raven to Dragonstone.

Nine days later, Rhaenys Targaryen, the Queen Who Never Was, and her dragon, Meleys, the Red Queen, arrived above Rook's Rest to aid Lord Staunton.

However, Criston was prepared and had his archers and scorpions fire at Meleys. The dragon was largely unharmed by these attacks, and she responded by burning Criston's soldiers with dragon fire.

Meleys was then attacked by King Aegon atop Sunfyre and Aemond atop Vhagar. The aerial combat between the two dragons of the Greens and the one dragon of the Blacks not only saw the death of the Red Queen Meleys but Rhaenys and Aegon were severely injured.

Aemond, Criston, and the surviving Greens took Rook's Rest and killed Lord Staunton and his garrison of one hundred soldiers.

Rhaenys was sent back to Driftmark to recover from her injuries and Aegon was carried back to Kings Landing atop Vhagar with an injured Sunfyre returning to the dragon pit.

The severed heads of Lord Staunton and Meleys were paraded through the streets of Kings Landing in a show of the Greens victory over the Blacks.

Vaera however grateful that her grandmother Rhaenys had managed to survive, did not take too kindly to the treatment of her dragon Meleys.

“You are the rider of the mighty Vhagar, the last living remnant of Aegon’s conquest, how could you desecrate the symbol of our house in such a manner” snarled Vaera.

“I did what needed doing. She would have killed Aegon”.

“But to parade the head of my grandmothers dragon through the streets of Kings Landing as some sort of trophy. It’s sick” said Vaera.

“That dragon was responsible for the deaths of hundreds when she burst through the floor of the dragon pit, the people of Kings Landing need to see their King defending them”.

“Whatever you say Aemond” retorted Vaera as she hauled Rhaegar into her arms and stormed out of the room, leaving an irritated Aemond in her wake.

During the battle of Rooks Rest, Aegon suffered a number of burns and had broken his leg and arm.

He was far too injured to properly serve the realm as its King.

So, the decision was made to crown Aemond as regent until Aegon recovered.

Vaera stood with Rhaegar as she watched Criston place the conquerors crown on Aemond’s head.

As he sat on the Iron Throne, the Lords present lowered themselves to one knee and pledged their support to Aemond Prince Regent of the Seven Kingdoms.

In the aftermath of Rook’s Rest, the Red Keep, had become so eerily quiet. No mindless gossip or laughing children running through the corridors.

No words were spoken as the people of Kings Landing held their breath to see if King Aegon would survive his injuries.

Before this, on the nights when sleep would escape them, when Aemond was still a constant presence in their chambers, the nights when he had been demanding, ravenous and insatiable.

The nights when his slender fingers moved over the soft womanly curves of her body, the nights where he would nestle himself between her thighs and press his mouth against her hot wet cunt, her breathless moans echoing around their chambers.

But those nights were nothing more than a faded memory. Aegon’s injuries, and the deaths of Aemon and Jaehaerys had cast a dark cloud over the Red Keep.

Now, Vaera could count on one hand, the dwindling number of times she had seen her husband in the wake of the Council naming him Prince Regent in his brother’s stead.

Vaera cannot stop the resentment that forms deep inside her as she watches him get dressed.

The scalding wretched blackened thing that slithers and coils in her stomach like a snake as he presses a brief kiss her cheek before he leaves, slipping seamlessly from their chambers like the ghost he was.

She almost despises it, this nameless ugly thing that has robbed a husband from his wife and a father from his son.

This thing that keeps taking and taking, even more still.

The deep-seated resentment continues to grow and fester even as he slips into the bed behind her sometime during the night, pressing his body against hers, before drifting off almost immediately after looping his arms around her.

Sometimes she would remove herself from his grasp and go sleep in the nursery with Rhaegar. Night after night she would lie staring at the ceiling wishing her husband would pay her some semblance of attention.

But the crown weighed heavy and the responsibility even heavier still.

One night after seeing Rhaegar to bed, she finds Aemond sitting silently in their chambers, staring into the fire.

"Husband" said Vaera, watching as Aemond flinched at the bite in her voice.

The urge to snap at him grows and festers like a wound.

Yet before she can utter a word, a flash of crimson catches her attention.

Vaera’s eyes flick to the side briefly to see his crown, the crown that belonged to his brother, placed on top of her vanity table, the ruby twinkling at her as it caught the low glow emitted from the fire.

Vaera stands over the crown, staring down at the blackened metal. Every time she sees it, the uglier it becomes, this relic of long dead Kings, the beginning of the Targaryen dynasty.

It paled in comparison to the crown her grandsire Viserys once wore.

This thing was as dark as a shadow, all consuming, sweeping over the Red Keep and everyone in its path. Leaving no room for the light.

The longer she looks at it, the more she loathes it. This object that has stolen her husband and deprived Rhaegar of his father.

She’d had enough.

“All you care about is that damn crown” snapped Vaera.

“What?” asked Aemond his single amethyst eye widening.

“You heard me. This thing, this ugly disgusting crown. You care more about that, than you do me or your son” snarled Vaera as she took hold of the crown and launched it across the room.

The clang of metal hitting the wall, echoed around their chambers.

“Everything I do is for you and Rhaegar” snarled Aemond as he rose sharply from his chair.

“Yeah right. You’ve been far too preoccupied with those insufferable pricks on the council to even notice me or Rhaegar” retorted Vaera.

“I have a duty to the realm, I cannot fail” said Aemond.

“But you’ll happily fail in your duty as a husband and father” quipped Vaera.

“HOW DARE YOU SPEAK TO ME LIKE THAT” shouted Aemond his lip curling.

“No how dare you. Ever since that fucking crown touched your head, me and Rhaegar have been nothing but an afterthought to you” snarled Vaera.

“That’s not true”.

“Yes, it bloody well is. Haven’t you noticed that Rhaegar no longer calls for you to read to him at bedtime, or how he never asks you to take him to see Valaerys anymore?” said Vaera.

“I didn’t ask for this” exclaimed Aemond as he wrenched off his eyepatch and threw it on the chair.

“Didn’t refuse it though, did you?” snapped Vaera.

“How could I? Aegon is injured. Jaehaerys is dead, and Maelor is naught but a child. I’m next in line for the throne. I have to be the one to wear the crown”.

“Even if at the cost of your wife and son?” asked Vaera.

“What do you mean?”.

“You don’t care about us. All you’ve ever wanted is that crown and now you have it. I hope it was worth it” said Vaera.

“Worth it?” questioned Aemond.

“It cost Aemon and Jaehaerys their lives. It might even claim the life of your brother and yet you still clamour for it like a desperate child wanting to be fed” said Vaera.

“How can you even say that?”

“Because it’s the truth. Maybe if your grandsire wasn’t so relentless in advancing Aegon as heir, this might not have happened. Aemon might still be alive. Jaehaerys might still be alive and Luke-“ said Vaera.

“-I thought you understood. Aegon is the first-born son, the Throne was his by right”.

“What if I was my mother’s heir instead of Jacaerys? What if I was in line for the Throne? Would you still be saying the same then? Or would you snatch your own sons birth right from under him?” screamed Vaera.

“It’s irrelevant. You are not your mother’s heir. She passed you over in favour of that strong bastard boy of hers” replied Aemond.

“I will take Rhaegar and leave Kings Landing. Leave you and your fucking crown”.

“YOUR NOT FUCKING GOING ANYWHERE” snarled Aemond viciously.

“Going to stop me, are you? How exactly are you going to do that when you barely pay me any attention. I bet you wouldn’t even notice that I’d gone” balled Vaera.

“You will not leave me. You will not take my son” ordered Aemond as he drew himself to his full height and stared down at his wife, his lip curling.

"I will fly my Cannibal across the narrow sea and you will never see either of us again" threatened Vaera as she stood against Aemond, her body pressed against his.

"NO YOU WON'T!"

“I shall and you will never-“ stuttered Vaera as Aemond suddenly lunged forward and pressed his lips to hers.

Vaera ripped herself away from Aemond. Staring at him as she put a hand to her mouth.

The resentment swirling in the pit of her stomach was now morphing into something else. The dormant fire of their relationship was roaring to life once more. Coursing through her body.

One kiss, that was all it took. She needed more. She needed him.

Suddenly Vaera wrapped her arms around Aemond's neck and drew him in back in.

Their kiss was rough and vicious. Consisting of teeth and tongue.

It had been so long since they’d shared any form of intimacy.

Aemond backed Vaera towards the bed, his hands tearing off her shift until it was a ragged mess on the floor.

It was an eruption of frustration and passion. Hands everywhere, grabbing, scratching, and pulling at one another.

Aemond took a brief minute to yank off his tunic and shirt before he shoved Vaera on the bed, her back colliding with the mattress with a soft thump.

His body covered hers as he sucked and licked the delicate skin of her neck, leaving red marks in his wake.

Vaera moved her head to the side and moaned loudly as she felt Aemond’s teeth nipping at her skin.

Aemond pulled away to unfasten his breeches and push them down, freeing his hard cock.

Vaera lay back on the bed, her heart thumping wildly in her chest.

Aemond runs his hand up and down the length of himself, eyeing his wife with an animalistic hunger, a smirk on his lips as she parts her legs for him.

As he guides himself to her entrance, she barely has a moment to adjust before he is pressing his cock forcefully inside and stretching her brutally, causing her to cry out.

“FUCKING TAKE IT!” spits Aemond, wrapping a hand around her throat while the other digs into her hip, pulling her aggressively against him to meet each one of his hard thrusts.

Vaera can’t think of anything but the intense pounding thrusts that greet her, causing her to wail and moan, causing tears form in her eyes, before running down her cheeks.

Aemond sets a brutal pace, his hips crashing into hers.

“YES! YES! AEMOND!” screams Vaera.

“FUCK!” shouts Aemond as he feels her cunny clenching around his cock.

As Aemond’s hips begins to falter in their movements, Aemond snakes a hand between their joined bodies, his long fingers expertly circling her pearl, causing heat to bloom in her stomach.

He presses down more firmly, making faster movements against her bud making her shudder, as a sudden warmth crashes over her in waves making her cry out, her cunny tightening around him.

“AEMOND!!” screams Vaera as her hands claw at his back.

“Fuck!! baby, that’s it come all over my cock!” growls Aemond as he moves to grab the headboard, bracing himself as he continues to pound his hips against hers.

“A-Aemond” gasped Vaera.

With a loud animalistic groan, Aemond stills, leaning over his wife, his cock pulsating as he spills his seed deep inside her.

“I didn’t hurt you, did I?” asked Aemond quietly as he observed the reddened marks that littered his wife’s pale skin.

“No” whispered Vaera, the tears rolling down her cheeks.

“Y-Your crying” muttered Aemond.

“I-I’m not crying because I’m hurt. I-I’m sorry for what I said” whispered Vaera as she pressed her face into Aemond’s side.

“Vaera” exclaimed Aemond, wrapping his arms around his wife’s shaking form.

“I would never leave you and take Rhaegar. I just feel like I’m losing you. Ever since Aegon was crowned everything has gone wrong” sniffed Vaera.

“I know” murmured Aemond pressing his lips to Vaera’s head.

“We’ve lost Aemon and Jaehaerys. Luke’s dead and we don’t know if Aegon will recover. Your grandsire said crowning Aegon would prevent a war, but it started one” replied Vaera.

“We had no other option. If your mother took the crown, she would have killed us”.

“Y-You don’t know that for sure” whispered Vaera.

“Yes, I do. Her rule as Queen would never be stable, there would always be discord and calls for Aegon to be King. He is Viserys’ first-born son. In order to secure the throne for herself, she would have to put us to the sword. Then there’s Jacaerys, a known bastard. Do you really think the realm would accept him as King once your mother passed” said Aemond firmly.

Vaera shook her head, she knew what Aemond was saying was right. War was inevitable.

“We need to be together in this Vaera. We cannot be divided any longer” urged Aemond.

“I know” muttered Vaera sadly.

“You and Rhaegar are my sole reason for existing. I would gladly lay down my life if it meant the both of you were safe”.

“No. Aemond” sobbed Vaera desperately clinging to Aemond.

“I just need you to know how much you and Rhaegar mean-”.

“-Love you so much” said Vaera.

“I love you too” replied Aemond.

[deanscherrypie420]

Demon Blood - Part 1

A/N : Hi! This is my first public fan fiction I've written. I hope you enjoy! (Supernatural storyline is not followed) I didn't word count but uh.. It's.. It's long :D

Characters: Dean Winchester, Reader (Y/N), Sam Winchester, Bobby, Castiel.

Pairing: Dean Winchester X Fem!Reader, Sam X Reader (Platonic) Castiel X Reader (Platonic)

Warnings: Angst, demons, blood, injuries, mild detail into injuries, cursing, arguing, physical fights, supernatural hunts, slow burn (Let me know if I missed anything :) )

Summary: You were born a demon. You never found out why, but you have demon blood in your veins. Your father left when you were young and you've lived with Bobby ever since. One day, the Winchesters come storming back into your life for a place to stay. Sour memories are brought up and you and Dean can't stop fighting..

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She woke up to commotion in the main room. She glanced around her bedroom and pushed the blankets away. Grabbing her gun from underneath her pillow, she quietly walked to her door, listening in for any context. All she heard was men laughing. Groaning slightly, she made her way out to the living room. Immediately Bobby turns to her, a weary smile on his face.

"Y/N! The Winchester boys are gonna be staying here for a bit between hunts."

She glanced at them. Sam had changed a bit, he was tall, very fit. He'd grown his hair out more and he had an awkward smile. Dean was.. Dean. She didn't need to get into more detail.

"Why? Can't they just motel surf?" She said bitterly. She glared at the older Winchester. He had a small shit-eating grin on his face and it made her sick. "Or did you miss me, De?" She said with a tight smile, sarcasm lacing her words line thorns on a rose.

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She was coloring at the dining room when two boys arrived. The older man dropping them off seemed to be in a hurry and just as quickly as he was there, he was gone. Bobby had guided the two over to her and she smiled big.

"Hi! I'm Y/N! What are your names?" She said excitedly. One of the boys was older than her, taller too. He seemed to be about twelve years old. The other one was definitely around her age, maybe just a little older. The older one glanced down at his brother and he answered, "I'm Dean. He's Sam."

This was the start of a friendship between Sam and her. They were best friends, always drawing or reading together. One time she even stole a book from a library for him. Dean on the other hand, didn't like her that much. He wasn't outright mean or anything, he just didn't spend time with her. Everything was fine until one day..

"Guess what! Look what I can do!" She giggled as she dragged Sam closer. Intrigued, Dean came over as well, glancing over his little brother's shoulder. She closed her Y/E/C eyes, and when she opened them again they were like a sea of ink. Dean grabbed Sam and pulled him back, shoving the little girl to the floor. Her eyes quickly went back to normal but they were filled with tears. "W-what's wrong?" She asked.

"You're some sort of demon freak! Stay the hell away from me and my brother!" Dean shouted at her. Bobby soon rushed into the room and went to Y/N's side. She was crying now. Bobby had to explain to the boys how she was indeed, a demon.

It was never the same after that.

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At dinner they ordered take-out from a nearby fast food restaurant. It was quiet. The air was a bit tense, just the sounds of food packages moving around occasionally and beer bottles being set down. She wasn't legally allowed to drink for another six days, but who's counting?

"So, what's it like being a demon? Bein' all grown up now I'm sure you use your bullshit in some way." Dean said casually, a smartass grin on his face. He was taunting her.

She took a deep breath before responding, "It's great, y'know. I live normally. Just like any hunter would." She took another sip of beer and gave a unamused smile.

Dean cleared his throat, taking a swig of beer himself. "Yeah well, I bet your family is scared, huh? Never knowing when you might kill them.." He said coolly. It was such a random comment. He was trying to get a reaction out of her and she knew it. It was making her blood boil.

"Good thing I've never hurt any human before, huh?" She was tense and everybody could tell. Bobby and Sam were allowing the conversation to continue, cautiously glancing at her to make sure she was alright.

She's not sure exactly when the argument escalated but it did. They were yelling at each other and she was pissed. He brought up a time when she got violent, and for some reason he was so hell bent on bringing up her family. God, it infuriated her! She screamed at him, "Good thing I don't have a family to kill! Nobody has to worry about fucking shit!" She then stormed out and sat on the porch, trying to control her breathing.

Shortly after her, Sam walked out. "Hey, you okay?" He said quietly as he sat down next to her. She scoffed and nodded. "Yeah, golden." It was quiet for a moment. "We don't have much family either. Our dad is.. who knows where, and our mom is dead." He said quietly. She glanced over at him and smiled softly, "Yeah, but you have each other. I got no one." Her voice was gentle. Sam wrapped an arm around her and sighed, "You have me."

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Bobby had taken them to a playground for her seventh birthday. He was trying to distract her from the thought of her dad. The boys had been staying with Bobby for a year now, Dean was thirteen years old and Sammy was nine. Sam and her were still okay, despite his older brother's wishes. Her, Sam and Dean were at the top of the tallest slide and she was yelling for Bobby to watch her go down.

"Bobby! Bobby! Look at me! Watch!" She squealed excitedly. She was such a bubbly kid. Bobby looked over and smiled. "Go! C'mon now." He cheered her on the best he could. She was giggling and as she was about to go down she felt the wind knock out of her. Before she knew it she was falling down to the ground, and then It went blank.

She woke up moments later to Bobby and Sam next to her, helping her up. She was crying hard. Bark and dirt covered her new "birthday dress" and she was bleeding from scrapes all over. Sam hugged her tightly as she cried while Bobby scolded Dean for pushing her.

"I got you, it's- it's okay, Y/N. I'm here." Sam said, squeezing her tighter.

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She was in the Impala with the boys on a hunting trip. The only reason she was brought along - and the only reason she agreed - was because they suspected it was demons. She was in the backseat with her earbuds in, listening to Taylor Swift to block out whatever the hell Dean was listening to.

It was night time when they arrived in Colorado. They were in a small town, a rather trashy town to say the least. They booked a motel room because, as Dean said, "We aren't gonna book two rooms and change routine just 'cause you wanna feel special, sweetheart. Suck it up."

She set her stuff down by the couch while Sam went to shower. Dean grabbed a beer and made himself comfortable on his bed. He turned on the T.V and started watching a show she couldn't care less about. She made a makeshift bed on the sofa and laid down. She was exhausted.

When Sam came out of the shower, Dean went in. She cursed him under her breath for not letting her shower first.

"Hey, earth to Y/N." Sam said, waving his hand In front of her. She snapped out of her thinking and gave an awkward laugh. "Sorry, I was just zoning out." She rubbed the back of her neck. He ruffled her hair as he walked past and smiled. "Yeah, I noticed. Take the bed, I'll sleep on the couch." She rolled her eyes at the suggestion, "No. I'm fine, Sammy." They bickered about it for a minute before Dean stepped out of the shower. "She gets the couch, Sam. End of discussion."

The room was filled with tension and she told Sam she was gonna clean up really quick. She went into the bathroom and showered. The water was cold, Dean purposefully using as much warm water as he could. When she was finished, she wrapped herself in a towel and peeked out the bathroom door. "Sammy," She said sweeter than usual, catching both the boy's attention, "Can you please grab me a shirt? I kinda forgot one." He smiled and nodded, "No problem." He reached into a bag and grabbed a t-shirt. Once he gave it to her she retreated back into the bathroom. Her face was flushed and she felt like an idiot. What the fuck was that, Sammy, can you pretty please grab me a shirt? She mocked herself, Sounded like you were trying to fuck him, Jesus.

She left the bathroom and made her way over to the couch. Dean stared at her the whole time, making her slightly uncomfortable. "Can I help you?" She said, more attitude in her tone than she intended. Dean gave a tight smile back. "You're wearing my shirt." He said calmly. For some reason, everything he did seemed to irritate her. "Oh, boo-hoo. Cry about it. It's just a shirt." She rolled her eyes and crossed her arms. "Don't give me attitude, I'm just pointing It out." He winked at her, a grin on his face. Is this fucker serious right now? She thought to herself. "Fucking. Gross." She said as she peeled the shirt from her body, leaving herself in nothing but sweats and a bra. She tossed the shirt at him and flipped him off, "Go bang a bartender or something, don't flirt with me." She scoffed and shook her head, "I might kill you, remember?" The room went silent as she lay down on the couch, quickly falling into an uncomfortable sleep.

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"Rise and shine, doll face! We got work to do." Dean announced as he opened the curtains to the motel window, the bright sunlight causing her to cringe. She forced herself up and immediately noticed a new face.

"Who the fuck is that?" She said bluntly, staring at the man.

"I'm Castiel, the Winchesters guardian angel. Nice to meet you." He said almost robot-like as he stuck his hand out to shake hers. She just rolled her eyes and shook her head, going over to the coffee machine and pouring herself a cup. Castiel tilted his head and quirked a brow at the brothers. "Was I inappropriate?" He questioned. Sam quickly answered before Dean could, "No, she's just not a morning person." Castiel seemed to accept this answer and remained seated.

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"Fucking bitch!" She yelled out as the demon sliced her chest, throwing her to the floor. It grabbed her by her throat and squeezed, nearly crushing it before chucking her to the wall.

She got into the predicament because she was playing bait. "A demon can't kill you, so just go in there and distract him while we figure something out." Dean explained to her. She had rolled her eyes and agreed, now wishing she hadn't.

"Not so strong now, are you, little girl?" The vessel cooed, making her teeth grind. She flung herself forward and shoved it to the ground, her eyes pooled with black. She heard a gunshot as she fell to the ground with it, but she didn't care, she was determined to kill this demon.

Suddenly, after tearing it apart, she was pulled off of It. She went to attack whatever the fuck interrupted her but she was quickly soothed by Sam's voice. 'Hey, calm down. Shh.." He whispered in her ear. Her muscles relaxed and she exhaled, her eyes returning to normal. "Fuck, we didn't mean to shoot you. Dean, wheres Cas?" Sam asked urgently. She was beginning to feel lightheaded and she realized that she was the one who got shot. The bullet went in right by her hip, the soft flesh around it soaked in blood. She couldn't make out what the boys were arguing about, but before she knew it she was laying flat on the ground while Dean tried to remove the bullet from her side. Sam was above her, definitely talking to her but she couldn't hear him. Black spots formed in the corners of her eyes and soon it consumed her.

She was out.

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She woke up in the motel bed, a groan leaving her throat. Both of the brothers perked up and looked over at her. Sam rushed to your side and began rambling, asking if you were alright and such. Her headache was banging against her temples and she shut her eyes tight. "Sam, shut up. I'm fine." She said sternly, quickly silencing the younger Winchester. Dean cocked a brow, "He's just making sure you're okay. Son of a bitch shot you, be grateful he gives a damn." Dean all but nearly yelled, his tone clearly pissed off. "Dean, shut the fuck up. I'm not in a mood to bitch with you right now." She snapped back, pushing herself up out of bed. She had bruising underneath each of her eyes, it was mild but it was there. Her forehead was scratched and she had a long incision down her chest. It felt like the wounds were burning through her clothes and It just pissed her off more.

Pulling her out of her thoughts, Dean shouted at her. "I'm sick and tired of you thinking you're some sort of fucking god because you're a demon. Get off your fucking high horse and be grateful we patched your ass up!" His brows were furrowed and his fists were balled up, his knuckles white. She grit her teeth and shoved him back. "It's your fucking job." She said as he banged against the wall. "Your job is to protect people, whether it be me or Sammy. Don't give me the "be grateful" speech when you aren't appreciative of shit!" She yelled back at him.

He sprang forward, not knowing what came over him. He slapped her so hard across the face her mind shook. "Good thing you're not a person. You're a disgusting fucking demon, sweetheart!" He chuckled dryly, "We should have left you for dead."

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It's been hours since she's been back at the motel. She checked her phone and it was nearing three in the morning. 2:37 AM. Great. She laughed to herself. She was freezing, the cold wind and rain chilling her to the bone.

By the time she made it to the bus stop, there was only an hour left until it took off. She sat down on a bench, the warm heaters inside the building making her head lull back. She closed her eyes and exhaled.

"5;00 AM Bus to South Dakota Leaving In Five Minutes." The intercom said, waking her up. She hopped on the bus and made herself comfortable in a seat closer to the front. She would be back home within a few hours.

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When she returned home, her clothing was still damp and she looked pretty.. rough. She quickly made her way past Bobby, and into her bedroom. She changed into a new set of clothes and took a deep breath. She knew the boys would be home soon, so she had to figure out a way to explain the situation to-

"Are you alright?" Bobby yelled through the door, knocking quickly before opening it. She smiled at his familiarity, the comfort of being home. He quickly rushed over to her and grabbed her face. "Who in bloody hell laid a hand on my kid?" He said through gritted teeth. She just shrugged and waved his hand away, sighing. "Hunts are rough." She remarked dryly. Bobby exhaled and turned her head to the side, not caring that she waved him off. "Only a demon would hit a woman like this." He said coldly and a part of her inside smiled.

Who's the demon now, De?

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"De! De! Look at what I drew for you!" She said, wobbling around as she ran up to him with a picture in hand. It was Deans thirteenth birthday. He was waiting for his dad at the kitchen table. He was supposed to come.

The picture was in bright colors and it read "HAPPY BIRTHDAY DEDE!!" In big pink letters. There was a cake drawing on it with three candles, she explained It was for the three of them. "One is for you, the red one! See, see! The green one is for Sammy, because he really likes trees! And- and the pink one-" Dean cut her off, "I don't care! Get your stupid ass picture away from me and stop calling me that!" He shouted as he grabbed the paper and ripped it, throwing the two halves back at her in little crumpled balls. Her eyes watered and she nodded, picking up the scraps. "I'm sorry, De.." She said quietly, and he pushed her hard. "Don't fucking call me that!" He yelled.

"Do not cuss at her like that, boy!" Bobby had said when he came in, yelling at Dean. She ran to her room and cried.

She couldn't stop crying.

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When the boys got home Bobby immediately approached them. Dean was prepared for Bobby's wrath. How he would yell at him for laying a hand on her.

"You boys! I swear to God! You need to take better care of her, that evil creature got 'er good! Cut her up and slapped her hard." Bobby said with the shake of his head. Dean's eyebrows quirked in confusion, cautiously answering, "The demon slapped her?" Sam glanced down at his brother and shook his head. "Who else woulda done it, Dean? Monsters are sick people.." Bobby said before waving the boys off and walking away.

Before Sam or Dean could say anything, Y/N appeared in the doorway, mimicking Bobby's voice.

"Only a demon would hit a woman like this." She said with a smug grin. Dean's eyes darted towards her and he seethed. "Bullshit. He didn't say that." Y/N just smiled, walking over to him and placing a hand on his chest. Sam raised a brow, a bit antsy. Dean's heartbeat was racing. He cheeks grew flushed and she just chuckled softly. Her hand trailed up Dean's collar and found its way to his cheek, cupping it gently.

"Only a demon, De."

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A/N : That's the end of part one! I wrote this all in one sitting and I didn't exactly proof read, so let me know If there are any mess ups! I hope you enjoyed :)

Thank you so much for reading! If you have any rec's feel free to send them over :)

[what-am-i-outside-my-google-tabs]

You watch Bang Brave Bang Bravern and you ask yourself, how much of this was intentional and how much casual.

The girl in the box is an actual child. We see her grown up in the future, and her face and body changed, she is a child and she get adopted and watch cartoon and does not have a romantic relationship with one of the leads. But her body is still sexy, and in the beach episode she have a bikini and low waist jeans, and her tits giggle, and it is normal for tits to giggle, but was this fanservice for the classic mecha public, was it a critic to how these character are represented. She is a baby, but we see a shot of her ass, and we are not sure if the very cis very male director didn't do this scene as a consolation price to the men forced to draw oiled abs and men grinding on each others.

The CIA waterboard the protagonist, and it is a traumatic experience not even being saved and thanked can cancel out. There are two other waterboarding scenes after, one against a child and one against a giant robot. They both play comedically, because they both fail. It is just to show how the genre of the story changed, from real robot to super robot, or does it means more? Is it a critic to the system of torturing people to get information, because it will never function, and maybe waterboarding a giant robot will not get you anything, or is it just for laugh?

And you ask yourself, why are you asking these questions on a gay mecha anime, and well, i would not ask these questions if it was not a gay mecha anime.

It is a show decided to change genre three times and mix real robot and super robots in a gay romance that save the worls, and it is meant to be a love story to the old super robot genre, and to aks the question of why these type of stories exists. Maybe i should ask myself these questions.

They reference evangelion, but they are not able to give a woman character space, and you have no idea if it is for parody or for being unable to do it. There is an autistic fujoshi, and she is only an autistic fujoshi. There is the woman love the protagonist, and she save his life, but she is not important to the plot to she stay on the sideline. They tell you the military is not that bad, and you close your eyes to it because it is set in a not so far future and maybe things have changed, and than they give you two men singing a love song to each others shirtless.

And then the story tell you that the desire to die honorably, the very japanese feeling of getting out in a spectacle, is not good. It is actually what the evil guys want, to die honorably. You deserve to live, and you deserve to want to live. You can say no and hope in a future with the men you love. And if you want to live any diegetic explication for the super robot effects will disappear, and people will be able to transfer you the energy to resuscitate the commands and transform in the final gold form, and your hairs get longer and you can now defeat the final main guy, a giant angel created from the deaths of your other enemies. And since now everything does not need anymore to make sense, your partner is send to you again, for a third time, and you want to kill him for what he put you thought but you take his hand and the sky is blue and everyone is happy and the world is saved.

Where does the comedy end. Where do the serious thoughts start. How does the fanservice, and which kind of fanservice, control the plot. And it is a gay mecha show.

[tamelee]

Hey!

I love your analysis so much! You are the most impartial and nice person I met here so far ❤️❤️❤️

What do you think about the theory that Naruto invented harem jutsu because he wanted to get some men attention? It’s a little messed up since he was a kid, but I mean… Little girls have crushes on grown up men, boys probably have the same (Not saying he was doing it because he crushed on everyone in the village!) but there were times that he didn’t do it to gain something or anything. I’m confused. And I know that probably most of it was just for the fan service, but… I guess I like to have everything to make sense. I would love to hear you opinion on that!

Hi Nonee, thankyou so much ;-; 🧡🫶!! What a sweet thing to say! Hm' I don't think that's the right approach to the topic.. at all. In fact, I think that's very wrong tbh..

..we're talking about a neglected child here. Naruto created the Jutsu because he knows men think a certain way and thinks they're idiots for it. In the beginning he calls the villagers morons and he's quite full of himself (saving face) despite failing in class. Naruto is painfully aware of his own flaws though and so.. has an alternative for shits and giggles because he knows the reaction it'll draw out of men and laughs in their faces.

He gets scolded for it but remember, negative attention is still attention to a deprived and neglected mind of a child.

And yes, attention towards his existence, but it has nothing to do with sexual attention from Naruto's perspective. (wth.) For Naruto that's not why he's doing it and I think it's really weird to (whomever did to) suggest that. Big difference there because for Naruto it is a way to cause trouble as he knows he's already hated (at this point didn't know why) and it is a way to pay them back because they're (as grown men and 'elite Shinobi') humiliated for their severe reactions towards his Jutsu regardless of how negatively they think about him.

Let's see some examples.

Naruto got manipulated into stealing a super forbidden and dangerous scroll and somehow was easily able to do so by using this Jutsu on the Hokage and walked away with it without a problem for hours thanks to it... Apparently it was more effective than whatever Mizuki had in store because he needed a kid to get to the scroll. Obviously Naruto at this point is just toying with all these people and it makes sense that despite him glorifying the name 'Hokage' he doesn't think very highly of Hiruzen or men who fall for it. That's not to say he doesn't respect them in other regards, because he loved Iruka and Jiraiya. But still. "The nose-bleeder":

Ebisu earned his closet-pervert-name for a reason and Naruto wasn't happy with getting training from him instead of Kakashi.

He called Naruto trash at first, thought so lowly of him and told Konohamaru that if he decided to hang out with him longer he'd become stupid (like Naruto).

Naruto used his KBnJ and Ebisu got cocky about it... until..

Because Naruto knows it works. As in "who's stupid now? You fall and get defeated by my Jutsu despite me being all these things you say I am. You loser/pervert."

So later, Naruto even said that Ebisu was 'weaker than him' because he fell for the Jutsu and I think that says a lot about Naruto's perspective on the matter. Especially because he says it so.. passionately and he reeeaallyyy didn't want any training from him.

When he meets Jiraiya for the first time he severely disliked the man. Naruto screams and scolds him for the nasty book, peeping at the women in the bath, being a pervert and committing a crime, he calls Jiraiya a liar and flips him the bird..

It's genuinely wild. Naruto is wild I'll tell ya.

But then it gets more interesting.. because for some weird reason Kishimoto thinks he should let Jiraiya say during their argument that "he doesn't like men!!!".

Which is strange imo because Naruto is a child and not a man and it has nothing to do with his request for training. So what would that do to Naruto?? He's basically saying: "I won't train you because I don't like you the way you are, thus you have to transform into the thing I do like for me to change my mind because that's the only thing stopping me from training you." And what information has Naruto at this point? He knows shallow minded men fall for his Sexy no Jutsu easily, he knows and scolded Jiraiya just a minute ago for his book, peeping and being a pervert.. Naruto is actually so much smarter than people give him credit for (throughout the entire story actually)- put two and two together and he's forced to:

.. exactly.

Naruto even tried to compliment the "nasty book" first even though he obviously didn't mean it before resorting to this Jutsu knowing and even having said before that such behavior is distasteful doing so to humiliate and manipulate Jiraiya to get what he wants (because again, he thinks they're all idiots for this specific reason only). Naruto is very aware about the situation. He doesn't do it for attention, he does it to get trained and Jiraiya quite literally said "I don't like you, you're a rude brat, why would I train you anyway? I don't like men." So what's the alternative? Become a woman (in this case desirable to Jiraiya) and manipulate this fool into getting to train him.

Naruto is extremely uncomfortable and the second Jiraiya suggests he stays that way throughout the training he undoes the Jutsu immediately and gets angry. He throws more insults towards Jiraiya like "pervert" "nasty Sannin" and calls him "totally crazy". He doesn't enjoy to get perved on, he enjoys humiliating them for being fooled so easily because their first impressions of them weren't great to say the least. Iruka always scolded him, Ebisu called him literally trash and Jiraiya was literally the worst at first. Notice how he didn't try using it during the Bell Test on Kakashi for example. He wasn't nice but it wasn't personal towards Naruto.

[chicknstripz]

∘₊✧ [[ Flesh wound ]] ✧₊∘

Pairing|| Fem!Reader X Jesse Word Count|| 837 Tags|| dad!Jesse, mild injury, blood is mentioned, fluff, Jesse being a good Dad. Synopsis|| You come home to find your loving husband tending to your ad'ika.

Blood prompt for @clonexreaderbingo

Low chatter draws your attention as you enter your apartment, the gentle back and forth of its occupants making your heart swell with love. The first voice was deep and rich, his distinct flash-trained accent rounding each word as he spoke. It had mellowed over the years, smoothed and softened by years of listening to his commander, but it was no less familiar - your smile growing as he addressed his companion.

“This is going to sting, but I know you can handle it. Right trooper?”

A low sniffle follows, the lighter voice of your son muted by a small hand wiping a tear stained face.

“Right.”

“Atta boy.”

You can just picture the smile on Jesse’s face, the upward curve of his lips and crinkle of his eyes making the lower end of his tattoo distort. It was one of your favorite sights in the whole wide world, the light that shone in your eyes more than enough to make you fall in love with him all over again. Stars, even the sight of him standing opposite your small child made you gush, his broad frame near hiding the toddler from sight as he fiddled with the sprawled contents of a first aid kit.

“I want you to take three deep breaths for me, count them for me ad’ika.”

“One -- two --”

Your son never got to three, the world hissed from between taught lips as Jesse wiped his bloodied knee clean with a sterilizing wipe. Poor kid. You didn’t like the sterilizing wipes either, especially when they made contact with an open wound, and it made you want to run in and wrap your arms around him. But you didn’t. Jesse seemed to have the situation more than handled, the ease in which he tended to the scrape making your head spin as he whispered soothing words to the toddler.

“You're doing great kid, Kix would be so proud.”

“He would?”

The youngster’s voice trembles, his innocent tone empathized by the whistle of a lost tooth.

“Absolutely! He’s seen grown men flee at the sight of a sterilizing strip.”

That earns him a hesitant giggle, the pain of the scrape long forgotten as he continues to clean the wound. You can tell at a glance that it’s one of those scrapes kids are prone to, that your excitable toddler had probably fallen over in the middle of one of their games, but that doesn’t stop you from gushing at how competent your partner is. He has the wound dressed in no time at all, his eyes sparkling with warm pride as he fishes a sucker from his belt pouch.

“In fact, he’d insist I gave you one of these for being such a good patient.”

You laugh as your son drops down from the counter, his rounded cheeks dimpling as he catches sight of you in the doorway.

“Mommy! I got a sucker!”

“You did? You must have been very brave indeed.”

He nods his head emphatically, his wild curls bobbing as he rolls up to his toes and back down again.

“I was! Daddy said ba’vodu Kix would be very proud.”

“And daddy’s never wrong, right ad’ika?”

“Right!”

You grin as you ruffle his curls, your head tilting in the direction of the living room as you turn him gently towards it.

“I think my brave boy deserves to watch some cartoons, don’t you?”

You don’t think you’ve seen him vacate a room so fast, your laughter rolling pleasantly in your chest as Jesse curls his arms around your midsection. He’s so warm and firm, the breadth of his torso making you feel oh so safe as he pulls you flush against him.

“Sorry. I should have com’d you the second he took that tumble.” 

“You know you don’t need to.”

“But you’re his mother. Kix told me before his birth that you’d be very upset if I didn’t tell you he’d sustained an injury in my care.”

You snot, as ever entertained by his brother’s wild interpretation of natborn emotions.

“I think that brother of yours regularly forgets you’re an ARC, with all the training that goes with it.”

You reach up, curling your arm to palm the back of his head in a gentle hold.

“I wouldn’t have married you if I didn’t trust your judgment, stars, just watching you with him makes me think we’re ready for another child.”

His breath catches, an odd stuttering sound that makes you smile as he nestles his nose against your temple. You know what being a father means to him, that he enjoys and treasures every single moment of it, so for you to add to his boundless joy? It means the galaxy to him! The vibration of air filling his chest makes you giddy as he pulls you closer with a growl.

“Kriffing love you.”

“Love you too.”

You always would, for in him you’d found the perfect husband and father, your life a blessed thing as you pressed a loving kiss to his cheek.

[literatehiss]

Day 21 - Farm

Day 21 of DeerCon24 Saga and Logan go to visit the Anderson Brothers Read on AO3 here

Saga hesitated before turning off the engine to her car. The farm outside was partially derelict, the Anderson brothers not having been able to keep up with the upkeep for many years. 

Her mother had been born here, grown up here, had left here—never to return. 

Saga wondered if her mother had ever wanted to come home, if she had missed this farm as it had been in its heyday. 

A smaller hand reached out to her own. Saga turned to look over at Logan. 

“You ok, Mom?”

“Yeah, I’m alright. Just nervous.”

“You have met these guys before, right?”

“Yes, they are great guys; they helped me when I was here with work. Tor and Odin were lovely, and I’m sure they will love you. They were very excited to hear that you were coming with me.”

Logan fiddled with the end of her sleeves. She always had needed something in her hands to fidget with—Saga was the same, currently fiddling with one of the puppets she had found during her investigation. 

“That's good… I’m nervous too. I’m nervous that even though they are excited, that they will be disappointed by me? Like they seem so cool from what you’ve said.”

Saga nudged her daughter with her shoulder.

“You are so cool, don’t worry about it.”

“So what are you nervous about?”

“Well… They can be very eccentric, and I’m worried they might be a bit much for you. And I’m worried that they will over exert themselves; they aren't the young men that they sometimes think they still are. I guess I’m worried more about things that could go wrong or how any of us could be hurt. I worry too much I suppose. 

“That’s what dad says.”

“Oh, does he now?”

Logan skipped out of the car with a mischievous giggle, just in time for them both to hear the greetings shouted from the porch of the Anderson’s farm house. The brothers both had a hand raised and, Odin at least, had a smile on his face. Her grandfather, she had noticed, was considerably grumpier than his brother, though no less loving. 

Saga smiled and followed after Logan, who ran up to the two elders before her shyness returned, and she ducked back to hide behind Saga. 

“Saga! It is good to see you, my dear. And is that our dear Logan behind you?”

“Hello Odin, it is good to see you too, and you, Tor. A sudden case of nerves, I think.” Saga pushed Logan a little forward, and it was Tor who reached out to pull the girl into a hug. 

“Well, look at you! Another fine warrior for the Anderson line, just like your mother, I bet.” 

“Oh, I dunno. I’m not as cool as Mom. I like art, like drawing and stuff.”

The brothers looked between themselves.

“You like music, Logan?” Odin asked.

The girl in question flushed a little red, embarrassed, “Yeah, I like singing a bit.”

Saga sighed as Odin let out a smug whoop. 

“Oh well, no one is perfect, I suppose,” Tor grumbled, “I’ll show you my old drum kit out in the shed later. I bet you’ll be a natural.”

Saga watched as her grandfather ushered her daughter into the old farm house. The two men immediately falling into their roles as if they had known Logan all her life. 

It was nice; she had always wanted a family like this. 

She looked at the bespectacled cloth doll she had been fiddling with in the car, that was still clutched in her hands. 

She just had one more family member to join them now.

[seiyasabi]

GBF

(Someone told me their idea of ‘yandere seemingly gay guy x fem reader who thinks they’re their bestie,’ and I foamed at the mouth. Anon I wanna kiss u on the mouth. 

This is a Yan Vil x Fem Reader story, so proceed w caution!!! Some details may not be canon, so plz don’t yell at me, I’ll throw up. 

TW: !!!noncon/dubcon!!!, !mistaken sexuality!, !reader is like ?? but ur gay and Vil is like ‘lemme show u that I’m not’, Vil is a meangirl as usual, unsafe sex!, need to express that he’s straight!, slight manhandling that is seemingly OOC, kinda dacryphilia, D/S kind of relationship, use of the word master, drugging!, hand on neck action, etc.. 

Please proceed with caution!)

“-So I asked him if the extension was necessary, and he told me that because I was a distraction, he couldn’t get his part of the project completed. Can you believe that??? He’s blaming me for wanting to do the project in the same room, rather than separately, just in case he needed help! How rude!” You puff your cheeks indignantly, painting your nondominant hand a royal purple, matching Vil’s iconic look. 

Vil gives an airy chuckle, he’s currently styling his hair into his normal updo, making sure his braids are even on both sides of his head, “I don’t think he means it in the way you think, darling. I believe he’s insinuating that he finds you… endearing. Perhaps he has a crush on you?” The blond is gritting his teeth at that idea. No one deserves to have you (besides him of course)! This disgusting boy who happens to be your partner needs to be reminded of his place.

Whilst your best friend is brewing in his growing anger, you think about the situation thoughtfully. He may be right, your lab partner may have a crush on you! He wouldn’t be the first to, but he’s quite unkempt. Idia doesn’t practice self care, and that’s a big ick to you, “Hmm, maybe. But, hopefully not! While he may be nice, he’s not my type.”

That catches Vil’s attention. You always say they’re ‘not your type,’ but you have yet to disclose what is! 

“I see,” He joins you at his coffee table that you’re currently sitting at, daintily setting himself down on the seat next to you, “Now, be honest with me; what man- scratch that- boy is your type? I’ve grown curious about who you may fancy.”

You feel your face grow hot, eyes glued to your newly painted nails. You can’t possibly tell him about your crush on his guy best friend! That would be overstepping soooo many boundaries, so you need to think of someone other than Rook! 

“It’s too embarrassing, I don’t want to say,” The slight tremor in your voice catches his attention right away. Who could you possibly be thinking about to make you so flustered? 

“Oh, don’t be shy. I’m your best friend, you can tell me anything,” He drawls, grabbing your hands and inspecting your paint job. You did quite a good job, and he gives a small smirk of approval. 

“Well… you have to promise to not be mad,” He raises a perfectly shaped eyebrow. Who could it possibly be? 

“Darling, as long as you don’t say the name ‘Crowley,’ I promise I won’t be.”

That draws a giggle from your perfect lips, body shaking with laughter. That was certainly unexpected, but what else do you expect from your best friend? He’s quite hilarious when he’s comfortable with you. 

“No, no! I’m not into men like that,” You stick your tongue out at him teasingly, “He’s way too old, he reminds me of a grandpa.” 

He cracks a smile, his dark lipstick contrasting perfectly with his white teeth, “That’s fair, but no changing the subject. Now I’m even more curious as to who you like.” 

You grumble for a few moments, before deciding to be honest, “Well, you know him, first and foremost. He’s blond,” Vil visibly perks up, “He’s funny, quite strange, and takes very good care of himself.” 

You must be talking about him! Though, that strange comment hurts a little bit, he’s willing to look past it if it means he can have you, “I think I know who you’re talking about,” Vil states smugly, a practically dazzling smile on his perfect face, “I’m not mad at all about it, I’m actually quite happy. It must’ve taken a lot out of you to confess like this.” 

Nodding, you give his hands a small squeeze, “I’m so happy you’re not mad! I was so worried you would be!” 

“Not at all,” He releases one of your hands in favour of moving some stray hairs out of your face, “I’m so glad you feel the same.” 

This causes your heart to practically explode in your chest! Rook feels the same?! 

“Really? He feels the same way?” Instead of answering you, Vil presses a perfect kiss print against your cheek, surprising you, “Uhhhh, what?” 

He smiles at you, eyes practically glimmering like the glitter on his eyelids, “Oh, how long I’ve waited for you to confess. I’ve liked you since the day you asked for blending techniques, fairest.” 

Hold on- did Vil think that you like him?! And did he like you back?! Isn’t he gay?! And did he just admit that you’re the fairest of them all?! What the fuck is happening?! 

You shrink back, gulping due to your nerves, “I-I think there’s been some confusion,” His smile noticeably becomes tight, eyes staring into you like a great white’s, “I like Rook… I like him a lot. I should’ve been more specific, I’m sorry. But, I’m also really confused right now.” 

“What could you possibly be confused about?” The way he speaks through gritted teeth scares you, especially with how tight the grip on your hand has become. Is he trying to break your hand? 

“Aren’t you, uhm,” You pause for a second, trying to come up with the right words, but find none, “Aren’t you gay? I-I thought you liked men this entire time!” 

He stares at you for a long moment, before bursting out into uncharacteristically loud laughter. Vil can’t believe it- you thought he was gay? Oh dear, that sure complicated things, “Oh no, I’m most definitely not. Whilst it’s okay to be gay, I am not. I love women,” He leans in close, eyes shining in pure, unadulterated love, “And let there be no mistake; I love you.” 

A nervous sweat breaks out on your skin, as you realise how many boundaries you’d inadvertently pushed, “Wait, hold on; does this mean that you’ve,” Your heart stutters in your chest, “You’ve watched me change and-“ 

“Yes, and I won’t apologise for doing so. You never asked, darling, so you can’t blame a man for watching the love of his life in the nude.” 

This entire situation is too hard for you to handle, “I can’t believe it- you broke my trust! I-I did all of these things under the-“ 

“Ah, ah, ah, that’s not fair. You assumed that I was gay, if anything, I should be the one who’s offended,” His grip somehow becomes tighter, long, perfectly manicured nails digging into your skin, “And on top of that, it turns out you’re foolishly in love with my other best friend.” 

The way his shadow suddenly looms over yours causes you to twitch in mild fear, his voice sounding icy like his stare, “I can’t help that I like him! And how could I not assume?! You never explicitly stated any interest in women, but you are always obsessed over other men’s looks! What was I supposed to think?” 

“Tch, you’re lucky I love you, (First name). If I didn’t, I would post a smear campaign against you online, because of these allegations,” Oh, that was a thinly veiled threat. You’re so close to pissing yourself in fear, it’s not even funny. 

“I-what- are you threatening me?” 

“Not at all, I'm just stating my feelings on the matter,” He smirks, suddenly releasing your hand, in favour of inspecting the nail polish you’re currently using, “Now that that’s out of the way, I’ll finish your dominant hand for you. You know how much I hate sloppily done manicures.” 

Your mouth is wide open, disbelief encasing your entire being, “What?! You-you can’t just-“ 

“Shh,” He silences you with ease, his shark eyes shining in barely concealed delight, “I can just do that, fairest. Who would believe you? Hmm? You’re just a pretty girl against a social media tycoon.” 

Your lip wobbles at his softly spoken, but stabbing words. He’s right, you know he is, but it still doesn’t stop a sinking feeling from forming within your chest. You want to scream, cuss, spit, pull his perfectly done hair from his head… but you can’t. Even when he threatens you, you can’t help but think about the times he was a good friend. Before… all of this, which makes it hurt even more. 

“So, you’re going to be a good girl, and let me finish your manicure. You know I hate it when a beauty regimen is half done,” Without waiting for your response, he carefully unscrews the royal purple nail polish with one hand, and begins to meticulously apply it to your perfectly filed nails. 

-

You hate to say it, but the blond is amazing when it comes to anything beauty related. 

It’d taken a very long (and tense on your part) hour for your nails to be ‘done,’ leaving Vil to bask in your, understandably, uncomfortable presence. 

The need to leave continues to rise, but you’re unsure how to go about saying goodbye. Normally, you wouldn’t leave until Vil finished his nightly routine, the male gently shooing you under the guise of him needing his ‘beauty sleep.’ 

But, today it was completely different. It was only 6 in the evening, and you were ready to run as far away as you can from his expensive flat. 

Maybe if you left and ghosted him, he’d leave you alone… that’s what you hope, anyway, 

But who are you kidding? The blond would probably make a very public post about you being lovers or something, forcing you to come back into his clutches without the need for physical violence. 

And, if that didn’t work, he’d send Rook to drag you back to him. 

You’re so deep within your own thoughts, that you don’t notice the blond making dinner, much less finishing it, and plating the (healthy meal of choice). He sets the dish in front of you, expecting your usual praise. But, when he notices your glossy eyes staring off into nothing, he snaps his fingers, immediately gaining your attention. 

“(Your name), darling, are you alright? If you continue to day dream, I can’t promise that your food will be fresh when you get to it,” He sets his own plate down at the seat beside you, gracefully sitting down, and placing a napkin on his lap. 

You nod at him, eyes fixating on the food in front of you, “Yeah, I’m good. Just thinking.” 

His sharp eyes are on you in an instant, watching as you fiddle with your utensils. 

“What could you be thinking about in that cute brain of yours?” He (pushes your hair out of your face/pulls your chin in his direction) with two fingers, allowing you to view him with ease. 

“I’m just… in shock. I didn’t realise that you’re not… you know-“ 

Sighing in slight annoyance, Vil stares at you with dull eyes, “When will you drop this?” His sharp words cause you to flinch, not expecting his slightly elevated volume, “I am not a gay man, I am straight. I will always love women romantically, I will never view men in that same regard,” He grabs your hand in a tight grip, “I am also helplessly infatuated with you, and there’s nothing you can do to make me feel otherwise. Now, do you feel assured of my true feelings? I promise that I am not toying with you, and I genuinely want to pursue a relationship with you.” 

You try to pull your hand away, but his grip remains strong. The intensity of his stare is enough to make you avert your eyes, “That's the problem; I don’t want a relationship with you. I no longer trust you-“ 

He releases your hand, in favour of gripping at your thigh. Vil’s nails dig into your flesh and muscle, causing you to yelp in mild pain, your own hand grabbing at his to try to ease his grip, “Eat. Your. Food. I don’t want to hear the hurtful things you’re about to say.” 

When you don’t immediately begin to eat, he gives another squeeze. Glaring, you shove his hand off of you, causing him to scratch your smooth skin, but you don’t care, “I’m not hungry! I want to go home-“ 

Vil stands up suddenly, scaring you. He marches to the fridge, forcing it open, and grabbing a large cup filled with a pink smoothie. Slamming the icebox closed, he rushes at you, face unreadable but eyes flashing with anger. Placing the smoothie in front of you, he crossed his arms, looking at you expectantly. 

“Fine, if you’re not hungry, at least drink this smoothie. It’s filled with vitamins and minerals, along with a potion to make your skin clear and glowy.” 

You look at him, before looking back at the smoothie, “I don’t want it. I just told you; I want to go home. Hell, maybe I’ll go see Rook-“ 

“You will do no such thing,” He hisses, pushing the drink closer to you, “Drink the smoothie, or else I’ll do something you won’t like.” 

You swallow harshly, eyeing the drink. With a shaky hand, you grab the cold glass, before taking a large sip. It’s so sugary, reminding you of the pastries Trey makes. You can’t help but gag at the overabundance of sweetness, setting the glass down on the countertop, and pushing it away from yourself. 

“Great Seven! What did you put in this?” Coughing, you try to clear your throat, eyes watering. 

“Don’t be dramatic- the smoothie is good for you. Drink it all, or else I won’t let you leave.” 

“You can’t keep me here, that’s unlawful imprisonment-“ 

“Shh, just drink,” Without warning, he picks up the smoothie, and practically pours it down your gullet. Liquid splashes down your face, as you try, and fail, to swallow all of its contents. 

You’re somehow able to gulp down the majority of it, causing Vil to let up, effectively letting you breathe. You cough and splutter, leaning over the counter to try to catch your breath. 

“What the fuck, Vil?! I could’ve choked!” You wipe at your mouth and chin, taking in the soiled front of your cute blouse. The pink is sure to stain :// 

He says nothing, just staring down at you, as if he’s waiting for something. 

“Why’re you looking at me like that?! Say something!” He grins at you, showing all of his teeth, causing a feeling of dread to settle deep within your bones, “Did-did you poison me? Oh God, am I going to die?” 

Your body suddenly becomes hot, causing tears to head your eyes in fear. This is how you’re going to die! 

Sobs wrack your body, as Vil all but drags you to your feet, and begins to bring you to his bedroom. Is he going to dismember your body in his en-suite bathroom? Oh no! Oh no! 

Pushing you into his bathroom, he begins to unbutton your blouse, nimble fingers exposing your perfect, bra-clad chest. You try to shove at his hands, but your limbs feel like they’re made of lead. Even standing is a chore, causing you to stumble, falling into Vil’s surprisingly sturdy chest. 

He clicks his tongue at your actions, but says nothing, making the experience all the more terrifying. He’s almost never quiet, which means he’s probably up to something. 

“What’re you- what’re you doing? Why’re you undressing me? Are you going to cut me up?” Your teary eyed look makes his cock throb, you’re just so adorable when you’re reliant upon him. 

“Not at all, I’m simply making it easier for us when you reach the next stage.” 

Fat tears drip down your face and your lip trembles, “Next stage?” 

He nods, the smirk on his face is domineering, crazed, even, “Yes, fairest. I know you don’t believe me when I say I’m… infatuated with you, and what better way to show you, than claiming your pretty pussy?” 

You blanche, body heating up more than before, heart beating almost out of your chest. You don’t want him to, but it seems your body is thinking to you, “What did you do? What was in that?” 

He loves that pleading tone, loves your pitiful reaction, and especially loves the way you tremble against him. Oh, how long he’s waited for this moment! 

“Shh, don’t worry about that. All that matters is that you’ll feel good. Master will make sure of it.” 

Sudden cramping in your abdomen causes you to slump into Vil bonelessly, a small cry leaving your lips. His lithe fingers dance against your hot skin, relishing the way you’re being broken down by the aphrodisiac. 

You once again try to shove at him, but to no avail. You practically sink to your knees in pain, Vil loosely holding your arms as you rest your head against his hip. He’s so tall compared to you, so the only way to rest against him was quite inappropriate. 

“Awe, are you alright, darling? Tell your Master what the problem is.” 

A small sob is all he receives in response, causing a chilling laugh to resound around the room. 

“Poor dear. Here, I’ll help you out of these pesky clothes,” Pulling you up to your feet, Vil begins to undress you. He pulls your top completely off of you, before all but ripping off your trousers. You’re left only in your bra and panties, which you try, and fail, to cover with your hands. The blond coos are your cute display, before he yanks your bra off of your chest, and shucks your panties down your legs. Slick immediately drips down your thighs, now that your panties are no longer holding it in. He used two fingers to swipe at your sensitive pussy, causing you to whine as you soak his hand in your fluids, “Does your cunny feel empty, fairest? Do you need your Master to fill you up?” 

“No! Don’t- don’t touch me there! I don’t want you; I want Rook!” 

Vil practically growls at your words, a sudden and mannish feeling of wrath overcoming him, as he grips your jaw in one hand, squishing your cheeks painfully, and digging his nails into your pretty skin. You whimper, as he starts to drag you to his perfectly made bed. 

“Don’t say that name is my presence ever again, (Your name), I don’t have the patience for your rebellious behaviour. I am the only man who deserves you, and I won’t let him or your incorrect ideals about my sexuality get in the way of that.” 

He shoves you on the bed face first, forcing your ass up into the air, your legs folded underneath you. Vil grabs a pillow from the head of the bed, shoving it under your stomach, making your back arch more than before. He shrugs his expensive robe off of his shoulders, gracefully tossing it onto the bench at the foot of his bed. 

You writhe on the mattress, trying to move out of the position he forced you into, only for a harsh grip around your waist to still your movements. Your tears drip onto the silk duvet, as you sob out in both pain and betrayal, “Stop this insolence, darling. I won’t hurt a single hair on your pretty head, as long as you sit still and look pretty for me.” 

He smoothes a hand over your perky ass, relishing the feeling on his soft hand. He’s waited so, so long for you to fall into his clutches, and now he doesn’t ever want to let you go. 

Moving his gaze down to your dripping cunny, he can’t help but shove two manicured fingers into you. A loud keen echoes throughout the room, causing his cock to jump in his perfectly pressed trousers. Yeah, he should’ve done this the moment he realised his feelings for you. 

He scissors his fingers in and out of you at a steady pace, his thumb rubbing small circles over your throbbing clit. You can’t control your moans, as the pads of his fingers massage your g-spot with vigour. Your fluids drip down his hand, coating his dress shirt’s sleeve in your slick, but he can’t find it within himself to care. 

You’re so out of it, that you begin to ride his fingers, ass bouncing with every rut against his pretty hand. You ground yourself against his finger tips, loving how he plays with your enlarged g-spot, wanting nothing more than to cream all over him. If he’s this good with his hands, your drugged mind can only imagine what he can do with his cock. 

Vil’s in complete awe, relishing the way you’re seemingly giving into him. He should’ve given you an aphrodisiac a long time ago. 

He so desperately wanted to see your face, knowing that a pretty princess like you would be drooling at his fingering skills.  

You teeter so close to the edge, pussy clamping down on his nimble fingers. Your moans and cries grow louder, as he constantly abuses your g-spot, causing your legs to shake and your eyes to roll to the back of your head. Yet, before you can squirt all over him, he pulls back, delivering a harsh smack to your plush ass, “I didn’t say you could cum, fairest. Only good girls are allowed to, and since you didn’t ask, I don’t think that applies to you,” 

Sobbing, you grip the sheets below you, “Please, Vil! I need it! I need to cum so bad!” 

He laughs at your pitiful display, before unbuttoning his dress trousers and pulling out his cock. He’s long and thin, tip flushed a pastel pink. Pre-cum practically drips from his tip, leaving small drops on both his trousers and sheets. He’s not too worried about it, though, you’ll either lick it up later or a maid will clean it. 

“Hmm, I suppose I can allow it. But,” he spreads your pussy open with two fingers, taking in the perfect sight of your puffy, dripping hole, “You can only cum on my cock.” 

When you don’t immediately respond, he pinches your clit between his thumb and forefinger, causing your body to jolt, a scream tumbling from your lips before you can stop it. 

“You will respond when I ask you a question, (Your name). Never ignore your Master,” You nod your head rapidly, more tears dripping down your face. 

“Yes, yes, I’m sorry! Please stop,” He releases you, lightly patting you on the pussy, before lining his cockhead up to your prepaired cunny. 

“Good, darling. Now, let me show you what you do to me,” Without another word, he shoves his prick inside of you, bumping into your cervix harshly. What he didn’t have in girth, he made up for in length. Vil’s eyes practically roll to the back of his head, mouth open, face screwed up in an abnormally imperfect expression, “Fuck,” He swears, which he almost never does, “I knew your pussy would be perfect for me.” 

He bucks into you ungracefully, which would have surprised you, if you weren’t so drugged up. You moan and cry, both loving and hating what he’s doing to your body. Your pussy creams around his cock, coating his cock in a milky white sheen, which the blond male looks at in awe. Using the two fingers that’s holding your cunny open, he releases one part in favour of lightly rubbing your engorged clit. 

Gasping at how you grip down on him, he begins to slam into you at a decent pace. His thrusts lightly rock your body, your face still smooshed into his bed spread. His pretty moans intermingle with yours, as he continues to assault your clit and fuck into you. 

Your juices drip down your thighs and onto his bedspread, cream and slick mixing together for a sinful concoction. Your g-Spot is so enlarged from the drug, that every drag of his cock has you practically convulsing. 

“Vil! Vil!” He gives a breathy laugh at your sweet keening, pressing down a little harder on your pretty clit. 

“Yes, fairest?” He acts coy, pretending to not understand why you’re calling out for him. 

“It’s-it’s too much! I’m gonna- I’m gonna cum! Please let me cum!” Your foggy mind barely recalls his previous orders, filling the blond with pride. 

“Since you asked so nicely,” He leans in close to you, the soft fabric of his blouse feeling wonderful against your heated skin, “Go ahead, darling. Cum all over your Master’s cock.” 

Your body squeezes down on him harsher than before, practically milking him for everything he has. He lets out an unusually mannish grunt, spilling his seed deep inside of you, as you squirt around him. Both of your releases drip down the both of you; your bare thighs covered in delicious cream, whilst Vil’s designer trousers are completely soiled. Yet, Vil wouldn’t have it any other way. 

“What a perfect darling,” He releases your pussy, in favour of wrapping an arm around your bare chest, and flipping you onto your back. Your (hair is a complete mess/drool is leaking out of your mouth), makeup completely smeared all over your face. Though Vil is always one for perfection, he can’t help but think you look better this way, “You did so well for me, (Your name). So well, in fact, I believe you deserve another release.” 

You whimper, body completely boneless underneath him, “Please, please, I need you so bad. I feel so empty, Vil,” Your eyes are still teary, lips still trembling. It causes his cock to twitch. 

He places a kiss to your lips, his lipstick transferring onto you very noticeably, “Call me by the correct name, fairest, and I’ll make sure you can’t move tomorrow.” 

You gulp, mind screaming at you to hold your ground, but you fall victim to the drug burrowing inside of you, “Please, Master, I need you.” 

With a smug grin, Vil forces your thighs open, lining his now erect cock with your cum filled pussy, “I’ll do so, with great pleasure.” 

[reallyromealone]

This is a dumb idea but like

House husband reader becomes a toddler and Bonten has to take care of him for the day.

Enjoy

Mikey sighed as he snuggled into (name)s hair, pulling his small body towards his own.

Wait

What?

Opening his eyes he looked down to see a small child who looked like a smaller version of their lover, same clothes and all clinging helplessly to Kokos stomach "holy shit..." Mikey mumbled before turning to wake Ran, the older man grumbling before looking at him "what...?" Ran groaned out and Mikey pointed to (name), ran sitting up and jaw dropped.

"Whose the kid...?"

"Fuck if I know!"

"Well wake him!"

Mikey glared slightly at Ran, the other lucky Mikey loved him or God damn.

"Wake up " Mikey said bluntly while poking the toddlers cheek, said small boy grumbled in his sleep before opening his (color) eyes and perked up significantly "Jiji!" (Name) said happily and shakily turned to see the blond "do you know who you are?" Ran asked tired but kindly to the child and (name) smiled that signature smile before speaking "(name)!" "And how old are you?"

(Name) frowned slightly, thinking before holding three fingers "this many!"

"Why are you guys so fucki ---- holy shit!" Mochi practically yelled and woke the other men who all held looks of shock at the toddler "hi!" (Name) said happily.

The men looked at the toddler in awe the little boy in one of Mikey's shirts, him being small enough to be like a dress on the boy "soo...(name), do you remember how Haru likes his lunch?" Koko asked, a test for the small boy "h-he likes it (specific way I can't be bothered to write)!" (Name) said proudly as he sat in Kakus lap, confirming it's in fact him.

Only (name) knew how he liked it as he was the one who figured it out.

"Well bud! Let's take you shopping yeah? Can't wear Mikey's shirt all day" Koko said placing a kiss on his chubby little cheek "ok 'jime!" (Name) said smooching him back innocently, the men silently cooing at their tiny husband who let himself be transferred from Kaku to Koko and the men decided that (name) was in fact the cutest kid.

And probably the only one they would tolerate minus the one the surrogate was carrying.

"Are you hungry bud? We can go anywhere you like!" Koko said ready to drop any amount of cash for the toddler as the men weren't exactly culinarily gifted like the toddlers adult counterpart was.

"We go 'donalds?" (Name) asked innocently, staring at the grown men with his big doe eyes that made the men melt "we will go anywhere you want baby" Koko said happily, the men knowing the menu at McDonald's from their drunk drives home (don't worry someone was driving them).

The men watched (name) eat happily after they got him some temporary clothes and a bunch more as they didn't know how long they would be like this and the clothes could go towards the babe when they get older so win win! (Name) ate his nuggets happily and periodically offered some to Mikey he pretended to gobble his little hand, making the child giggle.

All their Bonten tattoos were covered as to not draw that kind of attention to themselves, people assuming they were models or business men "oh what a sweet young man!" An elderly woman said to the men, (name) waving shyly making the elderly women coo at him "you must be such a proud dad!" The woman said to Ran, the man (name) was leaning on "ah thank you, I'm very proud of him myself" ran said with a fake kind smile as the ladies walked off with a final wave and leaving the men "you ready to go bud?" Ran asked the toddler who finished his food.

"Where we go?" (Name) asked as he was carried out, glancing around curiously by the endler Haitani "you get to come with us to work!"

"Yaaay!"

(Name) followed the men around their offices like a duckling, never leaving their sight as they got some child friendly toys for the boy, (name) sitting content in the corner of Mikey's office with his toys.

It was roughly three when (name) began to get fussy, a mixture of hungry and the need of a nap as the men panicked at the child sobbing angrily.

"Ah, seems like it's Naptime" Takeomi said causally as he lifted the angrily sobbing husband, the boy clinging to Takeomi and slowly rocked to sleep before getting set on the couch.

"We are totally gonna rock this parenting thing" sanzu said confidently, tucking little (name) onto their bed, the men found him adorable but desperately missed their husband.

Morning came, mochi held (name) close as he looked down and let out a breath of relief, (name) sat there in all his glory, torn child clothing around his naked self.

"Oh thank god"

[stormblessed95]

Ok, Storm storm, I need you to talk about this video, I only discovered it today and I'm collapsing... I don't know if you've already talked about it or not but I'll leave it here

https://twitter.com/motivatedpjm13/status/1498735024572665859?s=21&t=Orjsp5vvdZLlKDiA2rpXnQ

Lmaooo I was going to talk about this in part 2 of my 2015 post, but we can talk about it now!

Link:

It comes from the 150505 Radio Interview, you can watch the full thing subbed here, this particular part happened about 19 minutes in

There is plently to talk about with all of them from this interview, so you should watch the whole thing if you haven't yet, but we can just focus on this particular jikook moment here.

The host takes turns asking them all questions and before moving onto JK from Jimin, the host mentioned that Jimin really liked their golden maknae and asked what it was he liked about him. What truly stands out to me about this moment is JKs reactions more than anything else. 👀 The host asks what Jimin likes about JK, and JK goes shy as heck, rubbing as his neck, this is almost shy girl twirling her hair around her crush type behavior. He wants to know too. He is fairly interested in this answer

Jimin says "there's somethings I don't like, but he's cute. Because he is the maknae and all..." And JK smiles all sweetly. And while he is preening, Tae jumps in with a "I think he kind of likes men." To which JK seems to process that comment himself too.

And Jimin immediately cuts back with a "I don't like you." And JK immediately laughs and giggles. Jimin does not deny the liking men comment, just cuts back at Tae with his own. Idk if JK took note of that lack of denial or not but to me, it did seem like that comment did not pass by unnoticed.

The interview moves quickly on at this point to JK talking about his drawing skills and learning it from his older brother.

Now before moving on, I don't think this was a malicious or bad comment from Tae. I think it just wasn't thought through like at all as a joke before it was said. I think they have ALL grown a lot in the way they joke around with each other and with being tactful of others too. They all occasionally threw out a gay joke in these early years. It just... was just a bad joke with no ill intention behind it. While it wasn't great, I think Jimin handled it really well, he made people laugh and allowed the conversation ton continue to flow smoothly. And if perhaps the comment was correct, and he DOES like men and was well aware of that fact at this time (both of which I personally think are true) he didn't lie or backtrack or make things awkward, which he could have done, while also deflecting the situation admirably.

Anyway though, honestly it's an amazing moment, but honest JK, what was going on there. That was like preening. Shy, squirming in his seat, giddiness and anticipation over what Jimin was saying. I'm 👀👀 over that reaction. Like damn baby, your crush might be showing. It was like he was two steps away from twirling his hair and biting his lip over that question. Lol

So much we could unpack there. Lol just wow! And the sass on Jimin is top notch as always! Thanks for the ask! I love this moment!

[bakudekushimasimp]

Pairings: katsuki bagukouxy/nxkirishima

Warnings: 18+, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, threesome, vaginal sex, anal, DP, mild degradation, unprotected sex (wrap it, before you tap it), oral

Summary: you walk into their dorm while they’re comparing sizes 👀

*A/N: yes they are in a dorm but they are also aged up, however old reader thinks is appropriate for people to have sex at, I don’t see grown men comparing sizes so of course they’re still younger. (I’m thinking around 18) can be older! It’s all up to the reader!

Mina and you are walking down the hallway about to turn in for the night, discussing improving your quirks and how your internships have been going. Everyone was either already in their dorms, washing up, or chatting it up in the lounge area. You both pass by the boys restroom as Todoroki steps out in only a towel hanging on his hips. Mina, being the overly confident one, praises him for his fit figure and tells him she might need his ice quirk with how hot he’s made it in the hallway and it wasn’t because his fire quirk. Shouto’s cheeks turn a bright shade of pink as he slips past you two and crosses the hall to his dorm. You both continue walking as you both giggle at his cute reaction. Mina then decides to bring up the topic of who the cutest boy was in your class. You roll your eyes and look at Mina,

“Mina, we are not 13 anymore.” She only nudges you and laughs. “That doesn’t mean you haven’t thought of any of the guys being insanely attractive, or their quirk just interest you more than others..” You think about it as you watch your feet, and slow down your pace. Now that you thought about it you have been paying more attention to someone than usually. Not being able to take your eyes off them while training. Or in class. A blush creeps across your face and Mina shouts, “See! I knew you had a little crush on SOMEONE!” You jump and quickly tell her to quiet down. You did not want to draw attention to yourself. Before you can say anything Mina turns to you abruptly, “Y/n I totally forgot. Kirishima has my *insert subject* book from class he needed to borrow it to finish up some of his homework do you think you could grab it for me! I need it before tomorrow!” An image of Red Riot smiling flashes across your mind and you start to stutter, “I s-suppose.” She jumps a little and claps her hands. “Thank you y/n” she quickly gives you a hug, your now standing in front of her dorm room door. “I’m going to bed, but you can leave it outside my door I’ll grab it in the morning when I wake up!” You hesitantly smile, hoping that the boys weren’t busy or asleep so you didn’t disturb them over a silly book. Mina retreats into her room, as you turn around to head back towards the boys dorm.

You stand in front of there door hearing muffled voices on the other side. You figure it’s better to get it over with, and since they both seem more than awake you’d just grab the book and go. You take a breath and twist the door knob open.

Your breath catches in your throat and your mouth hangs slightly ajar. Your face turns a fiery red. Both Katsuki and Kirishima stand their with their manhood in their hands. It looked as if they were trying to compare sizes, you only heard a brief “mine is definitely bigger,” before they turnt to the side snapping their heads towards you. You never knew someone could be that big. Kirishima’s cheeks flush and he quickly pulls his shorts up and over his cock only leaving his perfect v line and a red trail to view. Katsuki still holds his and isn’t so quick to move but eventually tucks himself back into his sweatpants. “What are you staring at idiot!” He practically barks at you. “Never seen a dick before?” Your throat is so dry your eyes quickly shift to the floor and you simply croak out, “M-m-Mina sent me to get her book from Kiri.” You see Kirishima tense at your cute nickname you’ve always called him. Katsuki rolls his eyes and grunts plopping onto his bed. “Well.” You look up from your feet and make eye contact with Kiri. He chuckles and scratches the back of his neck, “I guess I did forget to give that back to her,” he then turns walking to his desk and grabs the book. But before he could make it to you, to hand it to you, Bakugou stops him. “Wait,” you both turn and shift your attention to him. “so you obviously just saw us both just now when you walked in so..” you look down quickly twirling your thumbs around each other. Kirishima shifts back and forth on his feet feeling embarrassed by the whole situation. “Who looks bigger to you.” You stop twirling your thumbs at the same time Kiri stops shifting on his feet. You look up at Katsuki who is now leaned back smirking with both hands behind his head. You can’t help but look at his muscular arms twitch, and your eyes trail to his shirt that is lifted revealing a peek of his toned abs and blonde patch of hair that leads to the monster he was hiding in his sweatpants. You hurry and snap your eyes back up to his face where his smirk has now widened he knows what he’s doing, he licks his bottom lip and brings it under his teeth. His look sends a rush of heat straight to your core, dampening your panties. You then look to Kirishima who’s print is revealing itself in his shorts. He licks his lips, “You don’t have to answer that we all know the answer.” Katsuki sits up breaking his seducing pose and shouts “Oi!” You giggle and they both can’t help but let out a groan at the cute sound leaving your mouth, thinking of how nice your moan must sound. Katsuki’s cock twitches underneath his sweatpants and he stands and walked towards you like a lion prowling on its meal.

“We’ll see about that, Y/n can decide who genuinely has the bigger cock here.”

Kirishima tosses his book to the side and slowly approaches you never breaking eye contact as Katsuki makes sure the door is secured shut. Kiri comes up and gently cups your face and your legs start to tremble. Katsuki comes up behind you pulling his shirt off on the way, and soon enough you are pressed between both guys. Bakugou runs his hands down your arms and over your hips as Kirshima leans in only an inch or so away from your parted lips. Bakugou leans into your ear after places a few sloppy kisses up your neck, “tell us you want this..” your eyes are fixed on Kirishima’s and you can’t believe this is happening. “Y-y-yes.” Bakugou nibbles and your ear and then bites your shoulder leaving a love bite. “Yes what?” Kirishima is searching your eyes waiting for the words his erection raging underneath his shorts, he gently pressed it into your stomach as he is taller than you. “I want this, I want you, both.” You finally manage to get out. Katsuki hums into your skin as he grabs your ass and slides his hands around your thighs feeling all your curves. Kirishima takes the opportunity of your little moan to kiss you letting his tongue slip into your mouth. You both start kissing wildly and passionately as if you’ve both been waiting for this moment. Bakugou’s hand slips into your pants as he continues to leave his marks over your neck and shoulders, he feels just how wet him and his roommate have made you. “Already s’wet for us, you came here wanting to get fucked didn’t you, you little slut.” He pulls his fingers out of your pants covered in your slick and brings it up to where you and Kiri are lustfully exploring one another’s mouths. He pushes his finger in the mix of both of your tongues letting you both have a taste. You let out a whimper as Kirishima groans into your mouth. Katsuki pulls his finger back and takes it into his own mouth sucking in the mix of saliva and juices. “S’good” he groans as he pushes his erection into your ass.

Kirishima pulls away from you a string of saliva drawn between both of your lips. You look at him dazed with hooded eyes. He pulls your shirt over your head as Katsuki unhooks your bra from behind you and they let both pieces of clothing fall to the floor. Katsuki grabs your breast and squeezes tightly, “who knew you were hiding such a sexy body underneath that hero suit of yours, you’re always so shy and bashful but look at you turning into our little whore.” Katsuki slaps one of your breasts causing you to let out a whimper. Kirishima slips his shorts off along with his boxers and pumps himself with his fist watching as Katsuki plays with your hardened peaks. You rub your thighs together trying to give some type of relief to your aching sex. Bakugou makes eye contact with kirishima and it’s like they exchanged words because next thing you know Kiri was sweeping you up and bringing you to the bed. Kirishima lays you on the bed and helps you out of your remaining clothes, while Katsuki is removing his sweatpants and boxers from his godlike body. Kiri crawls between your legs letting your thighs rest on his as he spreads you out in front of him. You bring your hands over your eyes to hide your face and Kiri leans down next to your ear. “I’ve only dreamt of this happening, I can’t believe I can really enjoy you like this y/n. Don’t worry I’ll be gentle.” You remember the length and girth of his member from early and all you can think is of how no matter how gentle he was he’d still tear you open. Your pussy clenches around air, your stomach in a knot.

Katsuki makes his way over to you and stands next to where your head lays on the bed. He strokes himself and reaches out removing one of your hands from your face. “Don’t be shy now.” Kiri takes your other hand and lets it run from his chest to his rock hard abs. You shutter at the feeling sending goosebumps up your body. You look at Bakugou’s stuff erection and watch the precum drips from his tip down his shaft. He lets go of your arm and grabs a fist full of your hair pulling you to the perfect angle. He slaps his member on your cheek, “open.” You look at him through your lashes and open letting your tongue roll out. He wastes no time shoving his cock into your mouth letting his head fall back at the sudden warmth. Kirishima kisses his way down your body to your core, but before ravishing you he doesn’t hesitate to leave some love marks/bites all over the insides of your thighs. You try to refrain from squeezing his head between your legs as he then licks straight up your slit and starts to suck on your swollen clit. You moan letting your eyes roll back, the vibrations around Katsuki’s cock driving him wild. He thrust in and out of your mouth matching your head bobs. Kirishima uses one of his hands to slip a finger into you to prep you for what was to come as his other hand went to work twisting your nipple and palming your soft tit. You were drenching his face as you reached your high, it seemed Bakugou was coming close to his as well. Kirishima added another digit to your cunt and curled his fingers pressing against your sweet spot. Your back arched off the bed and not much longer you were coming unraveled. As your throat opened and you hummed against Katsuki’s cock he took the opportunity to shove his entire length down your throat, thrusting into your face until he exploded forcing you to swallow every drop he gave you. He pulled out of your mouth and tapped you on the face wiping saliva and cum across your cheek. “You liked me fucking your pretty little face didn’t you slut.” You nodded your head yes licking your lips, kirishima came up from devouring you to bring you into another hot steamy kiss both of you tasting you and Katsuki on each others tongues.

Kirishima then rolled you both over pulling you on top of him. Your breast hovering over his face and his cock at your entrance. “Are you ready, y/n?” He then took a nipple into his mouth and sucked gently. You brought a hand up to tangle in his hair, and you stammered out “y-y-yes Kiri, I’m ready” he nipped at your nipple at released it from his mouth. He looked at you to check if there was any doubt in your eyes but all there was was the reflection of lust and desire. He slowly started to push himself into you and you could already feel the stretch. He placed his hands on your hips easing you down gently. There was pain mixed with pleasure. All your wetness from the orgasm made it a little easier. Katsuki was on the bed and had positioned himself behind you. He reached around and cupped one of your breast while the other hand rubbed circles over your clit creating more slick for kirishima to push himself into you. You eased yourself all the way down, letting Kiri bottom out in you. You moaned his name digging your nails into his chest. His quirk activating at the sensation making you moshing even louder as you felt him harden and pulse inside you. He pulled you down into a sloppy kiss. Katsuki took the opportunity to massage your bottom as Kiri started his movements thrusting into you. Suki spit letting it drip down onto your lower back he rubbed his thumb in it dragging it down to your puckered hole. He eased his thumb inside you stretching you. You gasped at the feeling of something penetrating you there. “You like that dirty slut?” He slapped your ass cheek with his other hand. You grinded yourself against Kiri moaning into his mouth. “I’ll show you who’s dick you like more, princess.” With that Kirishima broke the kiss and moved to your neck finding your sweet spot and not moving. Katsuki removed his thumb and ran his length up and down your ass. He eased himself into you giving you time to adjust. He groaned as you sucked him in to your tightness. Kirishima was panting as you had your mouth agape tongue hanging out. Kiri took two fingers and hooked them into your mouth as Bakugou reacted up and grabbed your throat bout of them penetrating you at the same time. The tension in your stomach built as you felt another release coming. Kiri’s thrusts we’re turning sloppy as he starting mumbling to himself. “Fuck…s’tight..you like taking both of us…our little slut..all ours.” Katsuki smirks and slams himself into you causing your back to arch higher. “Look at you bringing Red Riot to his knees.” You tighten around both of their cocks as you reach your release. Kiri squeezes your thighs hard as you clench down on him. You see spots of white as you squirt all over his cock and Katsuki’s balls.

Katsuki pulls out of your ass looking at the gaping mess he’s left you, grabbing your hair and pulling you up to his chest. He grabs your thighs and pulls your body off Kiri holding you as Kirishima gets up on his knees. Bakugou puts you back down on the bed, your knees and arms wobbling as you are on all four. “We’re not done with you yet, princess.” He grabs your hair and slips himself inside your drenched sex. “Fuck.” He moans bottoming himself out. You can feel your stomach bulge as he fills you up. Kiri swipes your hair out of your face and caresses your chin pulling your face up he gives you a lazy smile before licking his bottom lip and pushing himself to your mouth. As Katsuki starts to relentlessly pound into your walls he uses the grip on your hair to help you suck all your wet juices off his friends dick. You gag slightly as he forces your head completely down his length. Tears brim your eyes at the complete euphoria your body is going through. Katsuki shoves your head down several more times before kirishima throws his head back loudly moaning your name. He pulls out and paints his seed across your beautiful face. The sight pushes Bakugou over the edge and he releases his vice grip on your hair to dig his fingertips into your hips, he was sure to leave bruises. He sloppily pumped into you until he pulled out and fisted himself until he released all over your back.

You collapsed onto their bed making sure not to lay your face directly onto anything. Katsuki chest is heaving as he climbs off the bed, kirishima holding you somewhat in his lap. Bakugo grabs a towel and hands it to Kiri for you both to clean up while he cleans himself up. After you all are wiped clean you all lay on the bed. Your whole body is tingling and your mind is spinning. You lay between Dynamight and Red Riot amazed that you of all people just got to experience them both at the same time. You lay on Kiri’s chest as Bakugou rubs circles where he had just spread his seed on you only moments ago. Didn’t take him long to break the after care silence when he clears his throat, “So who do you think was bigger?”I

[aimless-imagines-for-fun]

Racing Heart

Pairing  ::  Clark Kent  x  short/petite fem!Reader

Warnings  ::  Smut, Size Kink

Word Count  ::  4,265

Summary  ::  You never knew why, but whenever you were around Clark, your heart always raced.

A/N  ::  Just an fyi, I used Henry Cavill’s Clark Kent, but I used the comic book height of Clark, which is 6′3′’, versus Henry’s 6′1′’

You never quite understood why, all you knew was that your heart always started racing when you were close to Clark. It wasn’t whenever you saw him, or when you were just in the same room as him. It was only when you were able to notice how small you were compared to the 6’3’’ man. 

There were many occasions when this happened. Whenever Clark hugged you, helped you grab something on a top shelf, or even when he was standing so close to you, you two almost touched, your heart began racing. It had gotten to the point where you went out of your way to avoid getting close to the man, making sure you were always on the opposite side of the room from him.

There were three specific times though that made your face heat up just thinking about them.

-

The first one was in the break room.

You had managed to open the cabinet doors right above the refrigerator, but were struggling to grab the box of plastic utensils. You always forgot to bring a fork or spoon from home for your lunch, though you never had to worry about it because The Daily Planet had some. Of course, in an office full of tired reporters, others were bound to forget their utensils as well, and thus the box that was placed on the counter was now empty.

You stood on your tippy-toes, fingers barely grazing the corner of the box. The heels your wore offered no help, only adding a mere inch and a half to your height. You open the cabinet with ease, and a huff of annoyance left you when you saw the box of forks was on the second shelf. You had grown so frustrated, you began hopping just to try and hit the box that you now believed was taunting you. However, your hopping was working, as you managed to hit the corner repeatedly to make the box slowly come out. You didn’t care if you were wearing a skirt. It ended right before your knees and you were wearing black tights so it was fine.

You just needed one more good hop and you knew you’d be able to grab the box. You bent your knees only slightly, and then-

“Do you need some help?” A deep kind voice asked, followed by a large hand reaching past you and grabbing the box.

You whipped your entire body around, now facing a tie and button-down plaid shirt. You tilted your head up, seeing the man from Kansas, Clark Kent. He was giving you one of his classic golden boy smiles, looking down at you.

You gave him a small smile in return, and you could feel your heartbeat begin to grow faster. Perhaps Clark sneaking up behind you startled you, and he seemed to notice.

“I didn’t mean to scare you, I just saw you were struggling for a bit,” He commented, holding the box out for you.

You grabbed it, thanking him quietly before a small idea popped into your head. “Were you watching me?”

You swore you saw a small tint on Clark’s cheeks as he let out a cough to clear his throat. “Um, no, I had walked by earlier and saw you struggling then, and, well, when I came back I saw you were still here so I decided to help.”

You let out a small giggle. “I’m teasing Clark.”

You saw him visibly ease up, letting out a small exhale. Little did you know he had been staring at you for a small while before he helped you. Watching you hop up and down had brought a small smile of amusement to his face. 

-

The second one was in the supply room.

Some people bought their supplies, and that was their stash. Others, such as yourself, helped themselves to the abundance of the supply room. What you had just ran out of only moments ago were sticky notes. You used them quite often, not only for notes but also for little drawings you did to pass the time. As a matter of fact, your entire desk was nearly covered with either small memos or doodles of random characters.

The sticky notes, unfortunately, were located on the top shelf. To add to your bad luck, there was also no stepping stool or ladder. Now, you could’ve been rational and go get someone taller to help. ‘Nah, I got this,’ you thought as you carefully began to climb up on the shelves. You believed in your climbing abilities, even in your heels. Admittedly, it was a bit awkward trying to grip onto the shelves, and the heels of your feet were hanging off, but you felt secure enough. 

You reached the top shelf with relative ease, only needing to step up two shelves. Then came the matter of the box of sticky notes that had yet to be open. There was no way you could open the box to grab the small number of notepads you needed, not without both hands though. You could throw the box down, but what were the chances of it breaking open and creating a mess? ‘I really should’ve thought this one through a little better,’ you regretted.

Busy thinking of how to get the sticky notes down(along with how often you found yourself in this sort of ‘you’ve made your bed now lay in it’ situations you’ve been in) you didn’t notice the door open and close once again. “(Y/N)?” 

“Wha- Ah!” You let out a squeal, losing your balance from being pulled from your train of thought. Your eyes widened and your heart froze, feeling your feet slip off along with your grip.

You squeezed your eyes shut, ready for the oncoming impact from the floor, along with the pain. Thankfully, the person who had caused your fall was quick enough to save you. Instead of feeling the hard tiled floor, you felt a pair of strong arms catch you. They held you close, almost squeezing you a bit too tight, but you felt safe in the embrace. You opened your eyes, blinking a few times to make sure you were indeed okay. You looked up to see who had caught you, your (e/c) eyes locking with blue ones behind a frame of glasses.

There was a clear worried look on Clark’s face. “You need to be careful (Y/N), you can’t just climb up shelves. If you need help, ask for it,” He continued to scold you, but you couldn’t focus on a thing he was saying.

Your heart was pounding, though you thought it was from the adrenaline of almost falling, and your mind was elsewhere. You couldn’t listen to him with him still holding you, it was all your mind was focused on. His grip on you was frim, and you were so close to him you could smell his cologne, citrus with a hint of musk. You always knew you were petite in build, but being held like this made you feel tiny. ‘His arms are so big. Am I really this small? He doesn’t look like he’s struggling at all. When does he have the time to work out? How-’

“(Y/N) are you even listening to a thing I’m saying?”

You blinked once, looking at him with big eyes. “Um… You’re still holding me…” You pointed out, a small blush coming to your cheeks. Unable to look at him any longer, your eyes darted down, missing his flustered face.

He put you down quickly, apologizing, and you told him not to just as quickly in response. After, you thanked him and rushed out without even taking a single sticky note with you. Later on in the day though, when you had walked away and returned to your desk, there were two sticky note pads on your desk.

-

The third one was at a charity event.

You and Clark were assigned to the event together as it was a rather large event. The money being raised was for meta-human teens and children, to help them better understand their abilities safely.

After hearing the guest list, you knew you had to wear the one forest green dress you wore to every fancy event. It was the nicest, and expensive, dress you owned. You paired it with three-inch black heels and a simple opal pendant. You never like dressing up too much. Clark wore a simple muted dark brown suit, with a navy blue button-up and blue tie to match it.

Now, it was rather tricky to keep your distance from Clark this time, and you really didn’t want to get flustered during work. Before it was at work, now it would be during work. There was a difference, granted a small difference, but still, a difference. At work, you just minded your business, and on occasion, goofing off when you weren’t writing an article. Here you were supposed to be interviewing and taking notes of everything happening. You couldn’t miss something important because Clark wanted to dance and you couldn’t keep your mind straight after. He didn’t ask you to dance, but, if he did you’d refuse.

“So, Mr. Wayne, Mr. Queen-”

“Please, call me Oliver,” The blond said.

Before you stood Bruce Wayne and Oliver Queen. You were intending to speak to Mr. Wayne alone, but just as you approached him, Mr. Queen also got to him. You were about to apologize and walk away, however, Mr. Queen, or rather, Oliver, insisted you interviewed them together. You had to admit, it was rather nice having Oliver around as Mr. Wayne, even though he was known as a playboy, gave you a rather intimidating aura. 

You began interviewing the two, asking them the same questions you had asked all the millionaires, but ended up talking with them and enjoying it. Mr. Wayne wasn’t as intimidating as he had seemed, and Oliver was rather humorous. It was clear to you the two were friends.

You were in the middle of laughing at a joke Oliver had told when you felt a gentle hand on your shoulder. You turned your head, seeing Clark, standing right beside you with a smile. 

“Well you most certainly are having a good time,” He commented before turning his attention to the men in front of you. “Mr. Wayne, Mr. Queen, it’s a pleasure to meet you.” He reached out with his free hand to shake theirs.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you as well…” Mr. Wayne’s voice trailed off as he looked down at Clark’s badge from the daily planet, “...Mr. Kent.”

“Call me Oliver,” He said as he shook your coworker’s hand. “I take it you two were sent together?”

“Yes,” You said in sync.

The conversation continued, and the entire time Clark kept his arm around your shoulders. You nodded along, even humming a few times in response to make it appear as if you were listening as your mind wandered. ‘Why is my heart racing? Why is he still holding me? Should I say something? What if I seem rude? I don’t want him to let go though.’ Even though you didn’t want to acknowledge it, you knew there was a small part of you that always liked how petite you were compared to Clark. 

Then, you felt his thumb begin to rub small circles onto your bare shoulder. Without thinking, you slowly leaned into his larger frame. Now, you couldn’t see it because you were still looking ahead at the two millionaires, but Clark glanced down at you, happy you had come closer.

-

You couldn’t avoid Clark forever though, despite your best efforts.

You walked down the sidewalk, holding four large reusable grocery bags each full to the brim. You lived alone, but you liked to shop in bulk so you wouldn’t have to go out often. You were struggling a fair amount though. Normally, you had a friend who’d come with you to help you out and then the two of you would hang out. Sadly, all your friends were busy for the next few days and you were beginning to run out of your favorite conditioner, not to mention you were low on food.

You didn’t drive to the grocery store either, adding to your struggle. It was only three blocks away, why waste gas? You wouldn’t be struggling much longer though.

“(Y/N)! (Y/N)!” A male voice called out.

You stopped, eyes darting everywhere to find the owner of the voice. It took you a moment until you eventually spotted Clark in front of you, a good distance away.

“Oh, hi Clark!” You placed two of the bags down to give him a large arm wave.

It took him a moment to get to you, and when he did he looked down at your groceries puzzled. “That seems like a lot for one person to carry.”

“Yeah, I tend to bite off more than I can chew.”

“I’ve noticed,” He said with a chuckle. “Do you want some help?”

You shook your head. “No. I couldn’t possibly drag you away from your day off to help me.”

“It wouldn’t be a hassle at all,” He reassured you. “Plus, it’d eat at me all day knowing I left you struggling.”

Knowing he wouldn’t take no for an answer, you let out a sigh, agreeing to his help. He took three of the bags, leaving you with the one bag filled with two bags of chips, three loaves of bread, and two dozen eggs. You tried to hold two bags, make the work even between the two of you, but he insisted. He tried to carry the bag you held as well, but you were adamant you held at least one.

Walking down to your apartment complex, the two of you mainly talked about work. At least you did, and Clark more so listened. This was the first time your heart didn’t start racing as you stood next to him, probably because you wouldn’t shut up about the deadline for your new article. You refused to look up at him, eyes fixed only on what was in front of you. It didn’t take long for the two of you to get to your apartment. You thanked him and told him he could go on with his day, but he insisted he helped you carry the bags up to your apartment.

You were quiet from then on, listening to Clark talk about the building. He lead you all away to your front door, standing patiently for you to unlock your door. Then, it hit you. You noticed his shadow over you as you faced your front door. Your heart quickened a bit, still, you ignored it as you opened your front door.

You speedily guided him to the kitchen to place the groceries down, and just as fast you tried to rush him out. His brows furrowed, confusion written all over his face.

“(Y/N), why are you in such a rush to show me out?”

‘Because I can’t think straight now with you around!’ You thought. Instead, you said to him, “Because I’m tired and I want you to enjoy your day off!”

He didn’t seem to believe you. He stood in front of you, a small frown on his lips. “Do you like me?”

Your eyes widened, mouth left ajar at his question.

“Because sometimes I get the feeling that you don’t like me.”

‘Oh-’ “What- No. I think you’re a great guy Clark.”

“Then why are you always avoiding me?” You didn’t think he had noticed. “Whenever I get close to you, you scurry off, and when you can’t you look uncomfortable.”

Like a child who had just gotten caught, you covered your face, too embarrassed to look at him. You didn’t want to tell him the real reason you were avoiding him, but, you also didn’t want him thinking you disliked him. It was the exact opposite.

“I’m not avoiding you because I don’t like you, Clark,” You said through your hands. You spread apart your fingers so you could look him in the eyes. “I… I avoid you because you’re… you’re so big.”

Now Clark was taken aback, a brow raised. “What?”

With a long exhale, you lowered your hands. “I said, I avoid you because you’re so… so big, and it makes me feel really small, and I can’t think straight.”

“You avoid me because I’m too big, and it makes you feel small, and you can’t think straight?” He repeated.

You nodded.

He was silent for a few seconds, tilting his head to the side. “In a good or bad way?”

“What?”

“In a good or bad way?”

You could feel your face heat up, and it wasn’t the only spot on you beginning to grow warm. Softly, you answered him. “In a good way, I guess.”

Clark took a step closer to you. “So you like the fact that I’m larger than you?”

“Yes, I just-”

“No.” His normally bright blue eyes seemed to darken, his eyes narrowed on you. “I want you to say it.”

You closed your legs closer together, feeling a heat rise in between your thighs. “I like that you’re so much bigger and stronger compared to me.”

Swiftly, Clark scooped you up, hands just beneath your bottom to raise you to his face. With how fast your heart was racing now you were sure he could hear it pounding in your chest. 

You looked into his eyes as you carefully took off his glasses and tossed them onto your couch. Then, you placed a hand on each side of his face and gave him a long soft kiss. He returned the kiss gently, though after a few minutes you could tell he wanted more, his kiss began to grow rough. 

You had wrapped your legs around him to be more comfortable, giving him a better grip on you. He squeezed your ass and in response you let out a soft moan. He lowered you a bit, only enough for you to feel his growing erection against your fully clothed core. He held your hips close, moving you against him for a bit of friction. You whimpered, lowering your head into his chest and gripping his dark grey shirt.

“Clark, please,” You whined.

“Where’s your bedroom?” He asked, voice deeper than usual.

You pulled your head away from his chest, nodding over in the direction of your bedroom. “Second door to the right,”

Almost hurried, he carried you straight to your bedroom. He stopped right at the edge of your bed, letting go and letting you fall back onto your mattresses. He crawled on top of you, placing a knee between your legs. Gently, he peeled away your clothes, tossing them to the side and leaving you in your underwear. He began peppering kisses around your neck, slowly moving down to your collarbone. As he did, his hand crept its way behind your back and undid the clasp on your bra. He pulled away from his kisses to watch your breasts bounce free, eyes fixed on your bare chest. 

Feeling embarrassed, you moved to cover your chest with your hands, but he pinned your hands above your head with one hand.

A low chuckle escaped him. “Aw, are you feeling shy?”

You were about to turn your head away when Clark dipped his head down, capturing your lips again. You could feel his free hand slowly trail up your side, humming as a shiver went down your spine. He cupped your breast firmly, beginning to knead it in his palm.

Small moans left your lips, arching your back, body begging for more. You already knew your panties were wet, and you needed him, but he was still fully clothed. All the while you could feel his denim-covered erection against your thigh.

“Clark,” You groaned against his lips, “It’s not fair.”

He pulled back, brows raised. You struggled to pull your hands free, to no avail.

“You’re still dressed,” You said with a pout.

He gave you an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry, how about you take care of that for me?”

He let go of your hands and you eagerly reached for the end of his shirt, pulling it off of him. You almost started drooling seeing him shirtless for the first time. Your hands began to wander around his chest, tracing the lines of his muscles. Your hands wandered down further, to the hem of his pants. Just as you were about to reach for his belt, his hand stopped you.

“You’re not ready yet sweetheart,” He warned you. 

“Clark-”

He pressed his mouth against you, silencing you before you could complain. Even though you weren’t allowed to undo his pants, he slid them off with ease and you felt his long hard member pressed against your thigh. You momentarily pulled away to glance down, gasping loudly when you saw his length.

Worried, you looked back up at him. “It’s not going to fit.”

He dipped his head back down to your neck, peppering kisses across your jaw. “That’s why we need to get you ready.”

His hand moved down to your soaked panties, pushing them down so you were completely bare now. Your breathing hitched, feeling him stick in a finger and begin to move it in and out of you slowly. He picked up the pace with his finger, eventually sticking in another and he could already feel your pussy tightening.

You were growing close and he was only fucking you with his fingers. Granted, his hands were larger than yours, so two of his fingers felt much larger than two of your own.

To add on, he lowered himself so his head would be right at your dripping cunt and began sucking on your clit. 

“Ah!” Your hands went straight to his hair and began to tug. You were a mess in his hands.

It didn’t take long for your body to shudder and your hips begin to spasm as you hit your high. Clark licked up your pouring juice, humming at your sweet taste. He looked up at you, two fingers remaining and now scissoring inside of you.

“You know, you really should ask for help if you can’t reach something,” He began. “It’s hard trying to hold back when you reach for things in those tight skirts of yours.”

“Well, now you don’t need to hold back,” You teased.

You propped yourself up on your elbows, grabbing his face with one hand and guiding him back to you. You could taste your juices in the kiss, humming in delight.

He pulled his fingers out, your core aching to be filled again. Luckily, you soon felt his already dripping tip at your entrance. Slowly, he pushed himself into you and you could feel your walls stretch around him. You nearly cried, your body in a mix of pain and pleasure. Your back arched, breasts pressing against Clark’s chest. Your hands gripped his arms as tight as you could, and you were sure you were digging your nails into him.

It was so much. You could feel your eyes water and tears prick at the corners of your eyes.

Clark kissed your forehead, muttered against it, “Just relax.”

He gave a small moment to adjust, noting how your breathing changed when you had gotten used to him. He pushed himself further in though, and you cursed under your breath, body growing tense again. 

Again, he gave you a moment to adjust, despite how painfully tight your walls clamped around him. He pulled out a small amount before pushing back in, bucking his a few times to get you used to him. Eventually, your quiet whimpers turned into small moans.

“M-more,” You breathed out, breath shaky.

Like a switch had been flipped in him, Clark pulled out almost all the way and speared you, no longer as gentle as he had been before. He did this again and again, going a little harder each time at a constant rhythm. Then, with one thrust you shouted his name loudly and your cunt squeezed around his cock.

“Ah! Clark again! Right there, please!” You begged him.

Knowing he had found your g-spot, he pulled out all the way this time and pounded that same spot, earning another cry of pleasure from you. He did this repeatedly now with a faster rhythm, leaving you gasping and clenching with each thrust. With each of your breaths growing ragged, it was clear you were both close to your release. 

You wrapped a leg around his hips to try and bring him closer, and he gripped your thigh harshly. He squeezed it so tightly, you were sure there’d be a faint bruise. 

With a few more thrusts, you shuddered, juices flowing out of you again and around Clark’s cock this time. You swore you heard Clark curse, feeling you squeeze around him and juices cover him. 

His rhythm was growing sloppy, and he pumped in and out of you until he let out a low groan of relief. You took a sharp breath, feeling his warm seed enter you. He continued to buck his hips, riding it out until he finally stopped, breath heavy.

He looked at you with now clear eyes and a smile on his face. “So… Do you need help putting your groceries away?” He asked cheekily.

You giggled. “Only if you don’t put anything important on the top shelf.”

“Why not? I’ll be around to help you now.”

[radiant-reid]

Gift Giving

Paring: Spencer Reid x reader

Summary: On their second anniversary, Spencer and his girlfriend exchanged gifts

Genre: Mainly fluff, smutty at the end

Warnings: Allusion to smut at the end, discussing of sexual activities,

Love of my life,

10 am, be ready.

S.R x

P.S. I cannot believe it's been two full years. The earth has travelled roughly 1168 miles since you agreed to be my girlfriend. Did you know it only takes men 8.2 seconds to fall in love? Still, I think it took me less.

P.P.S. I was trying to make this as short as possible.

I love you xx

That was the note Y/n rolled over to find on Spencer's pillow.

She was a little disappointed. Waking up next to him, in their own apartment, was a rarity, one she wanted on their anniversary. But, Spencer was the master of surprises, and her excitement quickly took over.

Before she knew it, her feet were on the ground as she raced to get ready. She already had a dress picked out in anticipation, something new. It was a strappy, white sundress. With a lace pattern, it was tight in the torso and had a flowy skirt. Perfect for their July anniversary.

Next came her makeup and hair. She did more than she usually would, wanting the day to be special. It never mattered to Spencer. He had seen her break down on numerous cases and vice versa.

However, Y/n did enjoy the way his jaw would drop as he fumbled for words, a pink blush heating his cheeks. She found it endearing she could still make him nervous after 2 years.

Spencer was 4 minutes early, walking into the apartment to find Y/n retrieving her gift for him. Well, gifts. It had been hard for her to find a hiding place, but he didn't look in the vegetable draw of the fridge.

That was where they had sat for weeks, and, although the fact Spencer hadn't gone looking for fresh produce in that time appalled her, she was thankful they stayed hidden.

"Good morning, my love." Spencer greeted her. He had a navy blue blazer and matching dress pants on with a white dress shirt that was unbuttoned at the top.

"Hey," Y/n replied, walking the few steps closer to him, so she was against his chest. The gifts sat on the kitchen island, temporarily forgotten.

With her heels on, Y/n was just tall enough to not need to stand on her tip-toes to kiss Spencer. She was able to just lean up to place their lips together, cupping his face. His hands fell to her waist, pulling her impossibly closer.

When they ran out of air, they pulled off.

Spencer nervously took a step back to admire her. "You, uh, you look... real pretty... extremely g-gorgeous." There was the fumbling she had dressed up for.

"Thank you, pretty boy," Y/n replied, running her hands up the lapels of his suit jacket. She hadn't noticed his hair until now, still wildly curls but slicked back. It drew her focus to his cheekbones and his newly grown facial hair.

"Oh, H-Happy Anniversary," Spencer mentioned, glancing down at his pretty girlfriend.

"It was a team effort." Y/n giggled, sending him a wink. Spencer chuckled. "Do we need to go now, or can I give you your gifts?" She asked, turning back to the presents on the table.

Spencer moved his wrist, checking his watch. "We've got time." He decided. "I've got to go and get yours." He told her as he dashed off to the spare bedroom. Y/n was desperate to know where he had been hiding it. She had been looking for the past few weeks. Maybe, she was the nosier of the couple.

When he returned, Y/n was sitting on the couch, looking out the window at the DC view. Spencer grinned as he silently approached her.

She looked up at him once he'd placed the gifts on the table.

"Spence, there's like 10!" Y/n squealed, giggling as she patted the couch next to her. She was trying to make out what was in them. Spencer's wrapping skills were subpar, which incredibly disadvantaged her from figuring out what was in them.

Spencer drew his lips together but smiled. "You got me just as many." He defended, laughing as he looked at the presents she had put on the coffee table.

She didn't say anything else as he took a seat next to her.

"Come here." Spencer requested, opening his arms. Y/n happy jumped into them, comfortably sitting on his lap. "How are we going to do this?" He asked, looking at the enormous pile of gifts. Although they had both agreed on only one.

"One at a time." Y/n decided, lurching forward to grab one of the gifts for Spencer. Spencer followed, picking up a weirdly shaped gift. It was wrapped in plain brown paper, the only one different. But it was quite big but narrow at the bottom.

"Here you go," Spencer said, handing it over to Y/n. She handed him the gift in her hand in exchange.

"I love you." Y/n smiled, placing a quick kiss on his lips before unwrapping the present. It felt just like Christmas morning. Nervous anticipation tingled all over her. Spencer always picked the best gifts.

Spencer just watched as she opened it.

Flowers. Carnations, Lily of the valleys and roses. The perfect mix of pinks, reds and whites.

"Aww, Spence." She cooed as she smiled back at him.

Spencer had a proud look on his face. His lips tugged up into a smile, and his face wrinkled with dimple lines.

"Carnations are symbolic of the first anniversary. They represent young love." Spencer began to explain. "Lily in the Valley flowers are for the second anniversary. It's actually indicative of purity, and it's thought to bring luck into love."

Y/n interrupted. "I'm beyond lucky in love." She smiled widely at him.

Spencer placed a kiss on her forehead. "Obviously, the roses represent love. But, I do know that you hate it when flowers die." He mentioned to her. It was true. With all the death she had to see every day, seeing pretty flowers die wasn't pleasant. Y/ nodded briefly, letting him continue. "So, this one actually lasts forever." He told her, pointing at one different looking flower. She hadn't noticed it before now.

"Spencer," Y/n said with a smile. There were no words left to explain how she felt. He was beyond thoughtful. "I love them." Just warm and fuzzy.

Spencer looked pleased with himself before turning to the gift in his hands. It was obviously some kind of book, but he wasn't sure which type it was.

He quickly unwrapped it. It was a copy of his favourite book ever. But not just any copy, a first edition. His face lit up, even more, eyes widening as his grin grew.

"Y/n!" He exclaimed, his voice going squeakier than normal. "It's my favourite!" The grin didn't ease off his face.

Seeing him smile made Y/n grin. "I know. I also know how fast you read so I, uh, did some annotations." She admitted to him shyly.

Spencer couldn't help but place kisses all over her cheeks. "I'm so excited to read it." He confirmed before reaching forwards to pick up another gift to give her.

Y/n reached out to get another one as well. They exchanged the gifts, opening them up at the same time. Y/n gasped at the necklace in her hands. It was beautiful. Engraved with S.R + Y/n's initials and a date, in roman numerals. It was the exact day in July, two years ago.

"Spence, it's beautiful." She grinned, gripping it in her fingers like she was afraid to lose it.

In Spencer's fingers was a leather bracelet, with its own engraving. Forever proud of you, S x. The words that meant more to him than anything else in the world. It was so precious he hurried to wrap it around his wrist, fumbling around.

"Here." Y/n swapped it with her necklace. She easily wrapped the bracelet around his wrist. Spencer moved her hair out of the way, putting the necklace on her. It looked even prettier than he thought it would.

"I love it," Spencer said, shifting the bracelet on his wrist so he could read the message when he looked up. His eyes were glossing over with tears. "It means the world to me." He quietly said.

Y/n wiped up the tears as they fell. "Happy tears?" She asked, and he nodded. "Good, and it's true. I'm always proud of you." He was so grateful to hear her words. It was something he was never told enough, and Y/n had spent 2 years telling him it every day.

Spencer nuzzled his head into her neck, enjoying being so close to her. He didn't feel anything but happy. Y/n ran her fingers through his curls.

"We've still got a lot more to do," Spencer mentioned, looking at the remaining gifts. Y/n giggled with a nod.

"Let's keep at it, Doctor." She told him, reaching out for another two of Spencer's gifts. He grabbed two that were intended for her.

Y/n gave Spencer the two book-shaped gifts, and he gave her a small box and something incredibly soft.

"This is amazing!" Spencer exclaimed, having unwrapped his personalised journal. Like anyone analytically minded, Spencer loved a good notebook. This one was thicker than any he'd had and it had his initials on the front, in discrete gold lettering. It was perfect.

"You like it?" Y/n asked. The answer was obvious from the never-wavering grin on his face and the eager nod he gave her. "My turn." She said, unwrapping the small box before opening it up. "Oh wow."

The contents were two rings. One was much thicker, with the top of a key cut out of it. The other was daintier, with a key. They fitted together perfectly, Y/n discovered.

"They're perfect." She told him, now only looking up to find him watching her fondly. "Now, I just need someone to give the other half to." That made him laugh.

"It does happen to be my ring size," Spencer mentioned, moving his hand from her back so she could see it.

Y/n hummed before taking his hand, gently sliding the ring on his right ring finger. Spencer took the other ring, sliding it onto the same finger on her hand before bringing it up to his lips to kiss.

"It's a placeholder." He explained. She didn't need to ask any questions about what he meant.

They locked lips once more before turning back to the presents they had. Simultaneously, they opened them.

Y/n's was a silk sleep mask and matching fluffy slippers in her favourite colour. It was remarkable he remembered her complaints on the jet, not being able to sleep due to how bright it was. He had managed to get the perfect gift to make the travelling better.

Spencer's was another book. However, this one wasn't by a famous author, or for him to write his own thought, it was a book by Y/n. He flipped through a few pages, finding each one filled with pictures and writing. Pictures of them; at Rossi's dinners, on vacation, out on dates. The writing was all done by Y/n. From what he read, it was why she loved him, or cute quotes, or her favourite memories.

Once again, Spencer found himself crying. Y/n grinned up at him, shaking her head.

"You're such a sap." She told him. He just laughed, reaching down to tickle her sides. She quickly broke, laughing even harder than he was and squirming in his lap.

He flipped through the pages, showing her the words she'd written. "You filled this out and I'm the sap." He defended, faux pouting.

"Alright, I'm sorry." Y/n gave in. "Can I have a kiss?" Her request was quickly approved. "Thank you." She mumbled again his lips.

"Thank you." He replied before fully pulling away. "We've still got more." He looked at the 4 remaining gifts, 2 each.

"Hmm, maybe should have stuck to one?" Y/n asked, poking him in the chest.

"You're one to talk." He quipped back which resulted in him getting a well-deserved, light smack on the chest.

Y/n dished out the remaining presents, already starting to open hers. She stopped when she saw the shoe box, looking up at him. That caught Spencer's attention, and he stopped unwrapping his gift to watch her.

As soon as she'd opened it, her hands flew to her mouth. She couldn't even say his name as she let out a few of her own tears.

"D-do you like them?" Spencer asked, he was so sure she would.

"Yes!" Y/n quickly replied, picking up one shoe to look at. Identical. They were the exact same as Spencer's black converse. "But- but this is your... M.O."

Spencer laughed at that. No matter how hard they tried, BAU terms were always there. "Wanted to get you ones the same." He admitted.

Y/n flung her hands around his neck, getting even closer to him. "I adore them, thank you."

Once she'd pulled off him, Spencer opened up his present. His mouth opened wide once he saw what it was. His favourite candy Garcia brought back from England.

"How did you?" He trailed off, grinning at the girl in his arms. "I've looked online for it before and I couldn't find it."

Y/n smiled back at him. "I know people in high places." She said as a reply.

"I'm going to need you to get me more once I finish this," Spencer told her.

Y/n tilted her head as if she were considering it. "That can be arranged."

They turned back to the last presents. Both looked and felt like some form of clothing. Y/n could almost guess what hers was, knowing Spencer the way she did.

Her suspicions were confirmed when she opened it to find a beautiful set of lace, green lingerie. Spencer was antsy to see her in it. He knew how well the colour would compliment her skin tone. Not to mention how amazing it would make her already gorgeous body look.

Spencer's final gift was a new tie and matching socks. Oddly, they were an almost identical shade to Y/n's lingerie, deep green.

"How did you know?" Y/n asked, looking at him with a stern look. "I hid it so well."

"I had no idea, love." Spencer defended, also shocked at the coincidence. She gave him a look, asking if he was telling the truth. "Honestly."

"I think that's called being soul mates." She smiled up at him, lacing their fingers together on her chest. Spencer lent down, itching to put his lips on hers once more. After a few lingering kisses, she pulled her lips away, trailing them up to his ear. "Maybe, if your lucky, doctor." She spoke slow and sensually, leaving Spencer lingering on her every word. She could feel the tightening in his pants as his blood rushed south, as well as the goosebumps on the back of his neck. "You'll get tie me up with that tie tonight."

He didn't know what to say, immediately turned to mush as she continued to kiss along his neck.

In a second, the mood changed. Spencer flipped her over so he was on top, towering over her. Now his lips were the ones planting wet kisses along her jawline. "I'm sure I'll be putting this new ring to use. Right up inside you. The perfect baptism." He told her, his voice had dropped an octave. Y/n's brain was fumbling over how he could say a word as innocent as 'baptism' and have it mean something so dirty.

"Is that a promise?" Y/n asked, hoping to call his bluff and cause his dominance to crack.

Unsurprisingly, it didn't. Spencer pinned her harder onto the couch. "It sure is." He confirmed, making Y/n try to clench her thighs together. Spencer's knee was making that impossible. "Hmm, I bet you're already wet down there, bunny." He challenged.

Y/n didn't need a second to collect herself, she just blurted out what she was thinking. "Why don't you find out, Doctor?"

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