#I’m breaking him down to the bare essentials lol

[angelrinisadork]

“My day is ruined and I’m about to make it everyone’s problem.”

[fingertipsmp3]

This fucking cardigan I’m making for my stepdad’s niece’s kid is going to make me tear my hair out I swear to god

[theetherealbloom]

TAKE ME DOWN TO LIFT ME HIGH

Summary: In the grand city of Rome, you, a senator's daughter, are entangled in a world far removed from your aristocratic upbringing. Your chance encounter with General Marcus Acacius, a renowned gladiator and war hero, changes your life forever.

Paring: Marcus Acacius x f!reader

Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI, AU, PWP, Some Plot and more smut, ANGST, Fluff, SMUT, Fingering, PIV, Unprotected Sex, Exhibition Kink, Age-Gap, Ancient Rome, Canon Violence, Gladiators, Blood, Gore, Politics, Sexism (it’s ancient rome, babe), Sneaking Around, Forbidden Love, Loss of Virginity, Boobs,

Word Count: 6k

A/N: The amount of research I had to do for this was insane. I was more obsessed with Greek Mythology than Roman so I needed a refresher. Hehe, there’s not a lotttt of drama, but it leans more into the smut side and just cheesy over all plot lol and a little fun ceremony in the end. Everyone say thank you to @wheresarizona for listening to me go feral over Marcus. Go send her some love cause she deserves it :>

Side note: I’m dyslexic and English isn’t my first language! So I apologize in advance for the spelling and/or grammatical errors. As always, reblogs, comments, and likes are always appreciated. Thank you and happy reading!

dividers by: @/saradika-graphics

Song: Selene by NIKI

| Main Masterlist |

The return of General Marcus Acacius was an event of grand opulence. The streets of Rome were alive with screams and celebrations as he rode his golden chariot, smiling and waving at the throngs of admirers. It was as if the bloodshed and death that marked his victory were distant echoes, easily forgotten by the jubilant crowd.

"Long live General Marcus!" someone shouted.

"A true hero of Rome!" another voice rang out.

You weren't supposed to be in the crowd. Your place was at home, learning household chores such as cooking, cleaning, and weaving—the essential skills expected of a Roman matron. Yet, here you were, hidden beneath a hood, blending with the common folk as you watched the celebrated general parade down the street.

As the parade came to an end, you discreetly followed behind the procession, your eyes fixed on General Marcus Acacius. He was dressed in white and glittering gold, a stark contrast to his usual attire of blood-stained armor and weapons. Even though he was smiling and waving at the crowds, you could see the disdain in his eyes for such a grandiose display.

You had heard stories about him, rumors whispered amongst the noble families of Rome. They spoke of his ruthless acts on the battlefield, of his unwavering loyalty to Rome, and of his preferences. Yet here he was, parading through the streets in all his glory, hailed as a hero by everyone.

You couldn't help but feel drawn to him despite everything you had heard. There was something about him that intrigued you, something that made your heart race and your cheeks flush.

Your mind was filled with thoughts of General Marcus Acacius, wondering what kind of man he truly was beyond his reputation as a war hero.

As you stood there, trying to remain inconspicuous, your eyes met his. The connection was electric, almost as if the gods themselves had intervened. Marcus’s gaze was so intense that it seemed to pierce through the crowd and find you alone. He noted every feature of your face, his expression betraying a hint of fascination.

You felt your cheeks flush with heat and quickly looked away, breaking the eye contact. Your heart pounded in your chest as you turned and began to scurry home, the thrill of the encounter leaving you breathless.

Your pulse raced as you made your way through the bustling streets of Rome, trying to push aside the image of General Marcus Acacius's piercing gaze. You couldn't understand why you were so affected by a man you barely knew, but there was something about him that drew you in.

You managed to sneak back into your room, just barely slipping past the household guards. Being the daughter of a senator afforded you certain privileges, including an education that many girls your age could only dream of. Your studies typically included reading, writing, and arithmetic, equipping you with the skills necessary to manage a household and participate in society. You were also taught music, dancing, and literature, for understanding and appreciating poetry was considered a virtue for a Roman woman.

As you settled in your room, the memory of Marcus’s gaze lingered in your mind. The image of his rugged face, scarred from countless battles, and his piercing eyes was etched into your thoughts. There was something about him that was both terrifying and captivating.

A soft knock on your door interrupted your reverie. It was your handmaid, Lydia, her expression curious.

"Where have you been?" she asked, her voice low but firm.

You hesitated, then sighed. "I went to see the procession."

Lydia’s eyes widened. "The general’s return? You could have been caught!"

"I know," you admitted, "but I had to see him."

"Why? What could be so important?"

You bit your lip, unsure how to explain the inexplicable pull you felt towards the gladiator general. "I don't know, Lydia. It's just... when our eyes met, it felt like something changed."

Lydia shook her head, her expression a mix of worry and understanding. "You must be careful. The world outside is not as forgiving as the walls of this villa."

The days following the procession were filled with a whirlwind of emotions. You couldn't shake the image of Marcus from your mind. Every time you closed your eyes, you saw his intense gaze, felt the inexplicable connection that had sparked between you.

The grand villa of your father was abuzz with preparations for the evening’s banquet. Slaves hurried to and fro, setting tables with fine silverware and arranging elaborate floral displays. The scent of roasted meats and freshly baked bread wafted through the air, mingling with the delicate fragrance of flowers.

Tonight, your father, a respected senator, was hosting a dinner in honor of General Marcus Acacius. The entire house was a flurry of activity, with guests arriving in their finest attire, their laughter and chatter filling the atrium. You stood near the entrance, feeling the weight of your responsibilities as the senator’s daughter.

Your mother approached, adjusting the drape of your stola with a critical eye. “Remember, you must be on your best behavior tonight. This banquet is crucial for your father’s alliances.”

You nodded, though your mind was elsewhere. Ever since you had seen Marcus in the parade, you couldn’t stop thinking about him. The memory of his piercing gaze had haunted you, and now he was here, in your home.

"Come," your father said, his hand on your back guiding you through the crowd. "I want you to meet someone."

You followed, your heart pounding in anticipation. As you approached, you saw him standing there, taller and more imposing than anyone else in the room. Marcus Acacius, the hero of Rome, the man who had invaded your thoughts and dreams.

"General Acacius," your father began, his voice carrying the weight of his status, "allow me to introduce my daughter."

Marcus turned, his eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that made your breath catch. He bowed slightly, a gesture of respect, but his gaze remained unwavering. "My lady," he said, his voice like velvet, "it is an honor."

General Marcus was the most strikingly handsome man you had ever seen. His chiseled features were framed by dark brown eyes beneath thick, black eyebrows. His long, aquiline nose and firm mouth, accentuated by a sensuously full lower lip, completed the picture of rugged masculinity. He stood tall, towering over most men, with a lean, muscular body and broad, powerful shoulders.

His hair, a captivating mix of salt and pepper, was cut short and fell in loose curls around his head, with distinguished grey patches in his beard that added to his allure.

"The honor is mine, General," you replied, your voice trembling despite your efforts to stay composed.

"Please, call me Marcus," he said, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "We are, after all, in more intimate surroundings."

Your father chuckled, clearly pleased with Marcus's easy charm. "I will leave you two to get acquainted," he said, patting Marcus on the shoulder before moving away to mingle with other guests.

The moment your father left, the air between you and Marcus seemed to crackle with electricity. He took a step closer, the heat of his body radiating towards you. "I must confess," he murmured, his voice low and intimate, "I have been looking forward to this moment."

You swallowed hard, feeling the blood rush to your cheeks. "As have I," you admitted, your voice barely a whisper.

Marcus's eyes darkened with desire, and he reached out, his fingers lightly brushing against your arm. The contact sent a shiver down your spine, and you felt your knees weaken. "You are even more captivating up close," he said, his voice husky. "I find myself drawn to you, like a moth to a flame."

You opened your mouth to respond, but the words caught in your throat as his hand slid up your arm, leaving a trail of fire in its wake. He leaned in, his breath hot against your ear. "Do you feel it too?" he whispered.

You nodded, unable to form a coherent response. The intensity of his presence was overwhelming, his scent, his warmth, the sheer power of his focus on you.

As Marcus's hand continued to caress your arm, you felt your heart race with a mixture of excitement and nerves. You had never been this close to him before, and the realization that he was interested in you sent a wave of exhilaration through your body.

His lips brushed against your earlobe, making you shiver. "I want to know everything about you," he murmured, his voice sending sparks down your spine. "Your hopes, your dreams, what makes you laugh and what makes you cry out for mercy."

You turned towards him, meeting his intense gaze. "I want to know about you too," you said, feeling bold in his presence.

A small smile tugged at the corner of his lips as he leaned closer. "There is not much to tell," he said modestly, though the way his eyes roamed over your face suggested otherwise. "Just a soldier who has dedicated his life to serving Rome."

But there was something more behind those words, something hidden beneath the mask of duty and honor. You could sense it in the way he held himself, in the intensity of his gaze.

"I don't believe that," you said firmly. "There is so much more to a person than their profession."

Marcus's smile widened into a grin as he took another step closer to you. "You are wise beyond your years," he said appreciatively.

The room around you seemed to fade away as you became lost in each other's gaze. It was as if there was no one else in the world but the two of you.

Suddenly, a loud noise broke through the moment – someone had knocked over a vase nearby. The sound jolted both of you back to reality and Marcus stepped back slightly.

"I should go check on that," he said regretfully.

Marcus's lips lingered on your skin for a moment longer before pulling away to look into your eyes. "I promise, we will continue this conversation another time," he said softly.

You nodded, feeling a rush of warmth at his words. You couldn't wait to spend more time with him and get to know him better.

As Marcus turned to leave, you couldn't help but watch him walk away, his confident stride and broad shoulders filling you with a sense of admiration. You sighed dreamily and turned back to the feast, only to be greeted by your handmaids with teasing grins.

"What was that all about?" one of them asked, wiggling their eyebrows suggestively.

You feel your cheeks heat up, trying to hide your excitement. "Nothing," you said coyly. "Just a conversation."

As the guests were seated in the triclinium, the air was filled with the sounds of conversation and the clinking of goblets. You found yourself seated across from Marcus, who looked imposing in his formal attire. His presence commanded the room, yet his eyes frequently strayed to you, a subtle intensity in his gaze.

The evening progressed with toasts to Marcus’s victories and speeches praising his valor. You tried to focus on the conversations around you, but your mind kept drifting to the man across the table. Finally, you could bear it no longer. Under the pretense of needing fresh air, you excused yourself and slipped out into the garden.

The cool night air was a welcome relief as you wandered through the manicured paths, the soft glow of lanterns illuminating your way. The garden was a haven of tranquility compared to the lively banquet inside. You found a secluded bench and sat down, letting out a sigh of relief. The gentle rustling of leaves and the distant hum of voices from the villa created a serene backdrop as you tried to gather your thoughts.

As you sat there, the faint sound of a conversation caught your attention. You turned your head slightly, realizing that a group of senators had gathered nearby, their voices low but urgent. You recognized the voices of some of the most influential men in Rome, including your father.

"I hear that Emperor Caracalla is eager to stage a grand spectacle," one senator said, his tone conspiratorial. "He wants to solidify his power and win the favor of the masses."

"Indeed," another replied. "I heard he plans to pit some of the finest gladiators against each other. And there are whispers that General Marcus Acacius himself might be forced to take part in the games."

You felt a pang of concern at the mention of Marcus's name. The thought of him in the Colosseum, fighting for his life, was almost too much to bear.

"Emperor Geta is not pleased with this idea," a third senator interjected. "He sees it as a waste of a valuable military asset. But Caracalla is determined. He believes a victory in the arena will elevate Marcus to legendary status, securing loyalty from the soldiers and the people alike."

Your heart pounded in your chest as you processed their words. The political machinations of Rome were ruthless, and it seemed that Marcus was caught in the middle of it all.

As the senators continued their discussion elsewhere, their voices drifting away back into the villa, you felt a presence behind you. You turned to see Marcus emerging from the shadows, his eyes fixed on you with an intensity that made your breath catch. He moved silently, his powerful form cutting through the darkness like a predator stalking its prey.

"My lady," he said softly, his voice sending a shiver down your spine. "It seems we both seek refuge in the quiet of the garden."

"Marcus," you whispered, your voice trembling with a mix of fear and longing. "I overheard the senators. They plan to have you fight in the Colosseum."

His expression darkened, and he closed the distance between you in a few swift strides. "I know," he said, his voice low and dangerous. "The emperors play their games, and I am but a pawn. But tonight, I do not wish to think of such things."

He reached out, his hand cupping your cheek, the warmth of his touch igniting a fire within you. "Tonight, I only want to think of you."

Your breath hitched as he leaned in, his lips brushing against yours with a tantalizing softness. The kiss deepened, his hands roaming over your body, pulling you closer until there was no space left between you. His touch was both possessive and gentle, his need for you evident in every caress.

"Marcus," you gasped, your hands tangling in his hair. "This is madness. If we are caught..."

"Let them find us," he murmured against your lips. "I would rather face the lions in the arena than be without you."

His words sent a thrill through you, and you responded with a fervor that matched his own. Your bodies pressed together, the heat of your passion driving away the cool night air. The world around you seemed to fade, leaving only the two of you, lost in each other.

"Promise me," you whispered, pulling back slightly to look into his eyes. "Promise me you will come back to me, no matter what happens."

"I swear it," he said, his voice filled with determination. "No matter what the emperors or the gods throw at me, I will return to you."

With those words, he captured your lips again, sealing his promise with a kiss that left you breathless. 

Your breath hitched in your throat as he reached out, his fingers tracing the delicate curve of your neck, sending shivers down your spine. He leaned in, his warm breath ghosting over your skin, leaving goosebumps in its wake. 

His voice, a velvety whisper, sent a wave of desire flooding through you as he murmured, "I want you. Here. Now."

The moon was high in the sky, casting a soft glow over the garden, as Marcus pressed you against the wall. His hands roamed over your body, igniting fires with each touch. You could feel his desire for you, and it only fueled your own.

Without breaking the kiss, he lifted you up and pressed you against the garden walls. His body hovering over yours as he trailed kisses down your neck and along your collarbone. Every nerve in your body was on fire, and you couldn't contain the moan that escaped from your lips.

With a growl of need, Marcus captured your lips once again while his hands began to explore under your dress. The feeling of his warm skin against yours sent shivers down your spine as he traced patterns along your thighs.

"Marcus," you gasped between kisses. "We shouldn't-"

"Shhh," he whispered, gently sliding your white cotton robe off your shoulders. "I can't resist you any longer.”

Marcus unexpectedly reached out his large, rough hands and cupped each one of your breasts, weighing them in his palms. Your body jolted at the sudden touch, your skin tingling under his warm heat. You could feel the calluses on his fingers, hardened from years of wielding swords and other battle weapons, leaving tiny marks on your delicate skin like a trail of fire.

As he squeezed and rotated your breasts gently, desire surged through you, igniting a deep longing within. You wanted to surrender yourself completely to him, to offer up not just your body but your very being to his every whim. The sensation was so overwhelming that you yearned to throw your head back in abandonment and give in to the all-consuming pleasure he evoked.

The protests that had escaped your lips now transformed into guttural moans of pleasure as his skilled fingers worked their magic on your most sensitive spot. Every touch sent electric shocks through your body, making you shiver and writhe against the wall. As Marcus trailed his fingertips over every inch of your slick flesh, you felt yourself becoming more and more lost in the overwhelming waves of pleasure coursing through you. With each stroke, your body arched further off the wall, desperate for more of his touch. It was like a symphony of sensations, building and crescendoing until you were completely consumed by the intensity of it all.

He slid a finger between your legs and pushed it deep inside you. Pleasure shot through your body, causing you to arch and writhe as he expertly stroked your tight passage.

"My lady, you have an incredibly tight cunt," he grunted out, his voice strained and revealing his own growing arousal. His features twisted in pleasure and his eyes glinted with a primal lust.

He firmly grasped your aroused nub and slid another finger into your tight, welcoming entrance. "We have to be quiet or we'll risk getting caught," he whispered in your ear.

You nodded eagerly, pleading, "Yes, anything. Please."

As his skilled fingers gently rotated over your sensitive clit and his other digit pumped inside your wet, pulsing core, you couldn't help but surrender to the pleasure he was bestowing upon you. From the moment his eyes locked on yours, you knew you were his to be used however he pleased, your body a vessel for his insatiable desires. With each expert movement of his fingers, you felt yourself spiraling into a dizzying state of pure ecstasy, completely at his mercy. Your flesh responded eagerly to his touch, begging for more as he claimed you as his own.

The General's gentle touch on your skin was electrifying, bringing a growing pleasure to your body that felt almost overwhelming. You could feel yourself getting too hot, too tense, and you were afraid of releasing the intense climax that was building inside you with just a single touch. 

"Oh Goddess," you gasped, tilting your head back against his shoulder and shutting your eyes as your desire became sharper and more urgent.

A sharp cry escaped your lips as his long finger penetrated you, rotating and rubbing inside your core while his other fingers worked relentlessly on your sensitive clitoris. Your body squirmed against the intense pleasure, your hands grasping at his muscular arms to anchor yourself amidst the overwhelming sensations. He chuckled softly as you began to move your hips in a circular motion, still continuing to bring you pleasure with his skilled touch for several minutes. Just as you were about to reach the edge of climax, he eased off slightly, keeping his movements quick and light.

But eventually, your body tensed up and convulsed, your movements erratic and desperate, your breaths coming in short gasps. As the tension in your loins grew tighter and tighter, you let out a high-pitched wail and reached the peak of ecstasy. Your walls pulsated around his probing finger, which was now coated in even more of your warm juices.

As the waves of pleasure subsided, Marcus gently turned you to face him again. His white robe and short toga were cast aside, leaving him naked in front of you. He stood tall and proud, his lean and muscular frame on full display. But it was his erect penis that took your breath away. It was massive, thick and much longer than average, standing rigid and red above a nest of dark pubic hair.

His impressive and exposed physique took your breath away as you gazed upon it. "Oh, my Goddess!" you exclaimed, feeling overwhelmed by his sheer size.

Without hesitation, Marcus reached out and grasped your thighs, pulling you closer to him. He leaned over your body, closed his fist around his member, and guided the tip towards your still-dripping entrance.

He managed to get the thick bulbous tip of his penis through your opening. You immediately felt stretched and full. You gave him a pouting look, your hips wriggling in an effort to accommodate him. “You big brute, you’re tearing me apart.”

He clenched his teeth, sweat starting to matt his silver and grey hair at his forehead. The pleasure of being inside such a tight flesh was almost dizzying, and he had to pull in all of his control to prevent himself from plunging completely inside of you. 

That would come later, he promised, once you had been well oiled by him. He pushed again and managed another inch, and slowly continued to advance his penis inside your channel. 

“You’re so tight,” his voice was harsh and strained, as if in pain. It wasn't too far from the truth; she felt tight around him, almost like a vice grip. But despite the discomfort, she was so warm and smooth inside.

With a groan, he slid the thick bulbous tip of his penis into your opening. A sharp pang of fullness shot through you as your body stretched to accommodate him. You gave him a pouting look, your hips wriggling and contorting in an effort to ease the pressure. "You big oaf," you playfully scolded, though there was a hint of pleasure in your voice.

He clenched his teeth, beads of sweat beginning to form on his forehead as he fought for control. The sensation of being inside such tight, warm flesh was almost overwhelming, and he had to take deep breaths to calm himself. He promised himself that he would give in completely once you were well-oiled by him.

He pushed with all his strength, feeling the resistance of your body as he slid deeper and deeper inside. The walls of your channel were smooth and slick, clenching around him like a vice. He couldn't hold back the grunt that escaped his clenched teeth, a mix of intense sensation coursing through his body. It was a pleasurable pain, like being held in a fierce embrace by someone who loved you too much - an exquisite torture that he never wanted to end. But with each slow and deliberate thrust, he knew that the pleasure would only intensify, building to a climax that would leave them both breathless.

Slowly but surely, Marcus eased his penis deeper into your body. With each inch of progress, you both felt the intensity of your connection grow stronger. Your entire body trembled with each thrust he made. When he was halfway inside you, Marcus used his fingers to stimulate your clit, sending waves of pleasure through your body. Your core throbbed with ecstasy as Marcus took advantage of your relaxed muscles and thrust deeply inside you until he was fully engulfed.

You and Marcus both groan at the same time. He quickly covers your mouth with his hand, gently hushing you. "Shh, my Carissima... I know it feels good, but we must be quiet. We can't risk your father catching us in this compromising position." The General continues to stimulate your sensitive spot, using his fingers to tease and moisten it further.

Your hips continued to rock and push against his manhood, your desire growing with each movement. You leaned back and moaned as General Marcus Acacius took full control of your body. He held onto your hips tightly as he thrust deep inside you, the pleasure intensifying for both of you. It was clear that neither of you was far from reaching the peak of ecstasy.

You let out moans and contorted your body as the large, broad, man moved back and forth between your legs. As your face twisted in pleasure and your head thrashed about, you experienced this unfamiliar sensation called sexual pleasure. Your climax came quickly and intensely, feeling like it lasted for several minutes. You threw your head back and let out a scream as the intense pleasure broke through between your thighs. A hot wave of pleasure spread throughout your body, causing your hips to writhe against Marcus'.

As your body trembled and released into an intense orgasm, you felt Marcus' muscles tighten beneath you. A deep, primal roar escaped his lips as he too reached the peak of his climax. The sound echoed through the gardens blending with the rhythmic pounding of your heart and breath. It was a moment of pure, raw passion that left you both gasping for air and tangled in each other's embrace.

As the intense pleasure slowly subsided, you became aware of the small droplets of blood trickling down your thighs and onto the grass. It was a sign that your virginity had been taken, marking the end of an era and the beginning of a new one.

General Marcus Acacius carefully pulled out of you and helped you to sit up. You could see his concern in his eyes as he looked at the blood staining his robe on the ground and your thighs.

"Are you hurt, Carissima? I didn't mean to be so rough..." he asked, his voice filled with worry.

You shook your head, still trying to catch your breath. "No… I'm fine," you managed to say.

He let out a sigh of relief and gently wiped away the blood with a nearby cloth. You winced slightly at the slight soreness between your legs but it was nothing compared to the intense pleasure you had just experienced.

Marcus held you close, his strong arms wrapped around you protectively. "You were amazing, my love," he whispered in your ear.

A flood of emotions washed over you as you realized what had just happened between the two of you. You had shared an intimate moment with General Marcus Acacius, someone who was forbidden to you because of your status as a daughter of such nobility. And yet, in that moment, none of that mattered. All that mattered was the overwhelming feeling of love and desire that consumed both of you.

Your mind was spinning, knowing all too well what would happen if anyone found out about your relationship with the General. Your father would surely punish both of you severely and possibly even sell one or both of you off.

Even with the knowledge of what had just happened, and what could, it was difficult for you to feel remorse or embarrassment. Instead, you felt a sense of contentment and fulfillment that you had never experienced before.

Marcus chuckled warmly and gave you a soft kiss on your lips. "You are truly something special, Carissima," he said with adoration in his eyes.

You blushed at his words, feeling a surge of happiness wash over you. Despite the risks and consequences, being with Marcus felt like the most natural thing in the world.

But as the reality of your situation sank in, a sense of worry crept into your mind. How would you continue this relationship without anyone finding out? How could you possibly be with Marcus when your father would never allow it? Or worse, your father having you marry someone else?

Marcus brushed his fingers against your cheek, and it felt like he could read your mind. "We will find a solution, my love. I promise I will marry you and make you my wife," he whispered to soothe your fears.

The weight of Marcus' words settled heavily in your heart. The thought of being married to the man you loved filled you with joy and hope, yet the reality of it all seemed impossible.

"How could we possibly make that happen?" you asked, your voice laced with worry.

You couldn't help but feel a sense of doubt. How could someone as powerful and respected as General Marcus Acacius be able to marry someone like you? You were just a daughter of a nobleman, while he was one of the most influential men in the kingdom.

Marcus spoke with unwavering assurance, his gaze locked onto yours. As you looked back into his eyes, all your doubts and fears dissipated. You were certain that he would do anything to keep you safe and by his side. "We will find a way, my love. I will do whatever it takes to make you my wife."

"I believe in you," you said softly, placing a hand on his chest.

Marcus smiled and leaned in to kiss you again, his lips gentle and loving against yours. In that moment, everything else seemed to fade away except for the two of you.

"But we must be careful," Marcus reminded you, his tone serious once again. "We cannot let anyone find out about us until the time is right."

You nodded in agreement, understanding the risks that came with your relationship.

"We must also gain your father's approval," Marcus continued. "It won't be easy, but I am determined to prove myself worthy of you and your family."

You couldn't help but admire Marcus' determination and love for you. Despite the challenges ahead, he was willing to do anything to be with you.

As the sun began to rise, you woke up in your room with a smile on your face. Today was the day that Marcus would finally meet with your father and ask for your hand in marriage. You could hardly believe the moment had arrived, the day you had dreamt of for so long.

Ever since he had first confessed his love for you, the two of you had been meeting in secret, stealing moments together whenever possible. The clandestine nature of your meetings had made your bond even stronger. The thought of being with Marcus made every challenge worth it.

You dressed carefully, choosing your finest gown, and adorned yourself with simple yet elegant jewelry. Your heart raced with anticipation as you made your way to the garden where the betrothal ceremony would take place. The air was filled with the scent of blooming flowers, and the gentle rustle of leaves created a serene atmosphere.

In the garden, your father stood with Marcus, deep in conversation. The sight of them together filled you with a sense of pride and hope. Marcus, in his formal attire, looked every bit the honorable and powerful man that he was—a general respected by all of Rome.

Your father turned to you, his expression warm. "My dear daughter," he began, "today is a momentous day as the gods have blessed us. General Marcus Acacius has proven himself to be a man of honor and valor. It would be a great honor for our family to be united with his."

Marcus stepped forward, his eyes never leaving yours. "It is my greatest wish to make you my wife," he said, his voice filled with sincerity. "I promise to honor and protect you for all the days of my life."

The betrothal ceremony commenced, a formal ritual between your two families. Your father and Marcus exchanged respectful bows, symbolizing the joining of your households. Gifts were presented, and the dowry was discussed and agreed upon. A scribe stood by, ready to document the agreement in a written contract.

Marcus then produced a small, ornate box and opened it to reveal a beautiful finger ring. "This ring," he said, "is a symbol of my commitment to you, a tradition that stretches back through the ages."

He took your hand gently and slid the ring onto your finger, his touch sending a thrill through you. The ring was exquisite, a delicate band adorned with intricate engravings that spoke of ancient craftsmanship. 

"You honor me with this gift, Marcus," you said softly, your voice trembling with emotion.

Marcus smiled, his eyes full of warmth. "The honor is mine, my love."

With the ring in place, you turned to the scribe, who handed you both the written agreement. You signed your name carefully, your hand steady despite the whirlwind of emotions within you. Marcus signed next, his signature bold and confident.

Finally, the moment came to seal the betrothal with a kiss. Marcus stepped closer, his gaze locked onto yours. He cupped your face in his hands and leaned in, his lips brushing against yours in a tender, sweet kiss. The world seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of you in that perfect moment.

As you pulled away, you saw the approval in your father's eyes and felt a rush of joy and relief. You were now betrothed to Marcus, the man you loved, and your future together was set.

"Let this day be the beginning of a lifetime of happiness," your father declared, his voice filled with emotion.

Marcus took your hand, his grip firm and reassuring. "Together, we will face whatever the future holds," he promised.

And with that, your hearts intertwined, you knew that your love would endure, growing stronger with each passing day. The journey ahead was full of promise, and with Marcus by your side, you felt ready to embrace it all.

[glorysbox]

Hi! Wanted to start off saying I love your writing so much! I had an idea that I’d love to see written by you, though I’m not sure if you do swf type stuff? (If not please totally ignore me!) And also not sure how detailed you prefer people to get, so this might be way too long for a fic lol. Either way, love your writing and hope you’re doing well!

So essentially Leon has a friend (afab) who has had a boyfriend for a while, and Leon begins to notice that she’s been staying home all the time, showing up less and less to hang out with their friend group, and giving excuses to not show up that’ve begun to repeat. Leon gets suspicious and confronts her when they’re alone for a minute, asking if her boyfriend is preventing her from hanging out with her friends and family. She confirms that’s the case, and explains that her boyfriend gets insanely suspicious about her interacting with anyone outside of him because, “Why would you ever need to talk to or be around anyone else? I should be enough for you. I should be your whole world.” And Leon, who has always had feelings for her but never acted on them is essentially like, “You know there are people who’d treat you better than that, right?”

leon x fem!reader

wc: 1.6k

tags: SFW YAYYYY! implied emotionally abusive relationship, hurt + comfort, leon is a cutie that cares about u a lot, dialogue heavy again

It's been a while since he's seen you.

So long, in fact, that Leon is starting to feel worried.

He never liked your boyfriend—couldn't stand the way the guy constantly talked down to you or the people around you. Leon never said anything, though. The guy made you "happy"—(in your own words)—and he would rather keep his tongue shut than threaten the friendship he has with you over this guy.

He thought he was making the right decision.

And yet, here he is, staring at the multitude of messages that he's been sending you over the past few weeks. Invitations to hang out get ignored. Questions about your well-being get ignored. Conversation starters get ignored. It's frustrating. But above being frustrating: it's nerve-wracking. Leon is worried. And he has been for weeks now... you're pulling away from him. And not just him; you're pulling away from everyone.

bestie: Hey. I'm worried about you, can we please talk? You've been distant for a while now. Did I do something wrong? [7:32]

bestie: Hello? Cmon. Dont ignore me [7:47]

You don't even read it.

It's at this point in time where Leon is starting to feel like he needs to do something. To say something. You were never like this before—and he's upset. Really upset. Which leads him to where he is now—fumbling with his phone as he stands outside of your apartment building. What does he even say? Does he call you—maybe text you? Will you even respond? Probably not. What if your boyfriend—the whole reason he wants to speak with you—is over your place?

Jesus, Leon. He thinks, stuffing his phone along with his hands into his jacket pockets. Come on. She needs you. Whatever happens happens.

Three knocks on your apartment break you out of your boyfriend-argument induced stupor. Your mind is foggy as you stumble from your bed—wiping your tears—to head to the door. This time, you don't even know what you've done wrong. You listen to your boyfriend faithfully. You've stopped talking to Leon, stopped hanging out with your friends, stopped messaging your family everyday—what else is there to do? You just want him to be happy.

boyfie: Do you even care about me? [7:26]

boyfie: i ask you to do the bare minimum shit and you never listen [7:26]

boyfie: Maybe we should just break up. i treat you like you're the only girl for me and all you do is whore yourself around [7:27]

He's told you so many times that he's the only one that'll ever love you the way he does. Explained that he is and should be your endgame—tells you that every good relationship needs it's compromise. He tells you that he's compromised so much to get nothing in return. And you believe it.

You'll have to figure out how to make this right—after you see who's at the door. With one final wipe of your tears with the back of your hand, you open your front door—maybe hoping to see your boyfriend, but...

"Hey, I... are you crying?" Leon's face is scrunched together, eyebrows drawn in and eyes squinting at the sight of your (admittedly pathetic, but adorable) display of sadness.

"No—I'm not. I was just..." You trail off, voice low and sad and whiny enough to make Leon's heart break into a million pieces. Guilt rushes over him in waves. He should've come sooner. You feel a firm hand squeezing the meat of your shoulder.

"Don't even lie... can I come in? We really, really need to talk. I—"

"No! No—you can't come in. Look, I'm sorry Leon, but..." You put your hands up defensively, creating distance between the both of you. Leon's heart breaks into a million more pieces. "That's not a good idea. You need to leave."

"Need to?" He sounds offended. "I'm not going anywhere. What I need to do is talk to you. About a bunch of things. It's just a talk!"

He pauses for a few moments.

"He won't get mad at us for just talking," Leon adds, in attempt to quell your obvious anxiety at just conversing with him. It's pretty much just as he thought; you never would avoid or ignore him on purpose. Your boyfriend told you to. You're just too sweet to realize that he's treating you like shit.

"Even if he doesn't... I don't want to risk it. I really don't want to upset him..." You avoid Leon's gaze. "Can you just... go away? I don't want to ruin my relationship anymore than I already have."

Leon's heart breaks into a trillion pieces.

"I'm... not going anywhere." Leon says slowly, taking a step closer to you. "Come on. He doesn't have to know. I'm worried about you. Everyone is."

"I don't want to lie about having you over. That would just be wrong." You pause. "And worried about what? I'm fine. Really."

Leon sighs. You watch as he pinches the bridge of his nose—watch as he looks around your apartment building. And then, you watch as he ducks under your arm to enter your apartment. He's already got the door shut behind himself before you can protest or say anything.

You open your mouth to speak, but—

"Just hear me out! Please. Come on. We've been best friends for years. Don't you care to hear about what I have to say?" He pauses, a pout forming on his face. You start to feel guilty for ghosting him. "Please. I'll be quick."

And you sigh in defeat, saying nothing. Which to him, is an invitation to speak.

"I... uh, okay, I know I said I wanted to speak. But I actually want you to talk to me instead. Talk to me about what's going on—" He reaches for you, putting a hand on your cheek. His thumb swipes away your tears. You don't pull away this time. "I need to know. I've been dying not knowing what's going on with you. At least give me the reason you ditched me."

"I... I'm sorry..." You mutter, eyes downcast as you avoid your best friend's intense gaze. "I should've talked to you about it, I'm sorry. It's just—he didn't want me talking to you, because..."

"Because?"

"Well—he said that you... uh, had a crush on me. And he didn't want me hanging out with you anymore because it's... cheating."

"What?! I don't—I..." He trails off, voice pitched a tad too high considering the fact that he's lying his ass off. Deflect, Leon. "Okay, whatever. What about our other friends? Your family? What's your reason for that?"

"H... he just said that you and—well, everyone doesn't understand our relationship. And that you guys just want to break us apart."

Damn right Leon doesn't understand your relationship with that douchebag. And damn right he wants you to break up with him. He doesn't verbalize any of this—not now, at least. He keeps a hand on your cheek, reveling in the feeling of your warm skin on his hand.

"And... why are you crying right now?" Leon's voice is soft as he speaks to you. He's trying his hardest to coax the truth out of you.

"Because..." You bite your lip, still looking away from Leon. The look on your face has his heart breaking into a quadrillion pieces. He could treat you so much better. "I made a mistake. And he won't tell me what I did... but I want to fix it. I really don't want to lose him..."

"You know... if he was a good boyfriend, he wouldn't not tell you what you did wrong." Leon's brows furrow together once more, replacing his softer expression. "He shouldn't want you to be upset. He should want you to be... happy. That's what couples should do."

Leon's doing a lot of talking for a guy who's never had a relationship before. He'd never admit that the reason is mostly because he only wants you.

"I know, but—"

"There's no buts. Come on. Don't you see? He's treating you like shit. I don't want to see you like..." He gestures to all of you. "This. Sad and lonely and desperate for this guy to treat you well. He's never going to treat you well."

He pauses.

"There's so many people out here. People that can treat you better. That care about you... like me, for example." Very subtle, Leon. He thinks, but thankfully... you don't seem to catch on. Or you don't comment on it if you do. He takes the opportunity, pulling you closer into him.

You don't pull away.

Making progress.

"We're best friends... I only want the best for you." You wrap your arms around his torso. Making more progress, he thinks. "I care about you more than you know. And I've been lonely without you."

You bury your face in his chest. It's comforting. It always has been. More progress.

"Everyone is worried about you. You need to... stop letting him string you along like this. He's taking advantage of you." You sniffle in his chest.

Maybe he's right, you think.

"Let's go back to the way things were before. Me. And you. And, uh... everyone else, yeah. And you being happy and smiling and having fun. I haven't seen you smile once since you started dating this guy." An exaggeration, but not all a lie. Now that you think about it, you aren't exactly happy. At all, really.

You're cracking.

"But..." You want to protest, to say anything, but the words die in your throat. You miss Leon. You miss your friends. You miss your family.

"No buts. Let's watch a movie. We can order pizza and stuff our faces. And you'll block that bastard and hang out with me every day again." You try to hold back the smile that threatens it's way on your face.

You hate to admit that this sounds like a good idea.

[cloudlessly-light]

Another Hotchniss filth age gap idea for you bestie: How about Dave is emily's father figure (not necessarily her step-dad but he has always been there when her real parents weren't) and Aaron is his best friend….so she's essentially fucking her dad's best friend haha

A/N: Bestie you know I love the AU’s and the age difference so you KNEW this was right up my alley lol. I hope you like our idiots being filthy together!

Title: From boys to men  Summary: From the moment Emily meets Aaron she knows that she has to have him, she doesn’t care that he’s older than her, doesn’t care that he’s Dave’s best friend. She wants him. Word count: 3,8k Rating: Explicit   Warnings: Smut, oral sex, dirty talk, choking, age difference, (Emily is 22, Aaron is 40-ish)

“Bella!”

The familiar sound of Dave’s voice makes her hurry downstairs from where she had been packing up the last few things that she still had in her parents’ home.

“Dave!” She beams and happily accepts the tight hug and kiss to her cheek. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too, kiddo.”

Dave had been in her life as long as she could remember, a close friend to her parents and the one who she had come to know as a second father. In some ways he had always been the one to look out for her, even when she didn’t want it. They had only gotten closer when she moved back to the states for college. And now she was moving to her own apartment, her dorm room all packed up and she was starting a new part of her life, a part she was excited for.

“Have you got everything you need?” Dave asks just as a second figure appeared in the doorway and Emily swore she had never seen a more attractive man. “Oh right, Emily this is Aaron, one of my best friends. He’s kind enough to help out.”

“Like you’d be able to carry all those boxes without breaking your back, old man.” Aaron says causing Dave to feign hurt.

“Hey, you might be a decade younger but I am still wiser.” Dave jokes and Emily rolls her eyes. She had heard that before.

“Oh right, that’s how it goes.” Aaron teases gently and smiles at her while extending his hand. “Aaron Hotchner.”

“Emily Prentiss.” She takes his hand and shakes it, eyes locked on his. “Thanks for helping out.” When she pulls her hand back her palm tingles, the heat of his hand feeling like a brand on her skin.

“We should get going.” Dave interrupts, seemingly oblivious to the way Emily can’t tear her eyes off his best friend. “So we have time to unpack the heavy stuff and then I was thinking I’d treat you to dinner?” He looks between Aaron and Emily, his smile as kind as always.

“Sounds perfect.” She says and she sees Aaron nodding in her peripheral.

It was going to be a great day.

“So, how do you feel about living on your own?” Dave asked, chopsticks in hand. She smirked at him, knowing that he was more worried about her than anything else.

“It’ll be fine Dave, no need to worry.” She leaned back in her seat. “It’s like I’m an adult now.”

“You can’t blame me, you’re the closest thing I have to a daughter. And you’re barely an adult.” He shrugged and as much as she tried, she couldn’t keep herself from smiling.

“I’m 22 years old!” She laughs but secretly she loves that he cares for her in this way, her parents never did. “I’ll be okay, besides you’re 20 minutes away, it’s closer than when I was at Yale.”

“Yeah but-” The sound of Dave’s phone ringing cut him off and he sighed. “Sorry, I gotta take this.”

“Never met a busier man.” Aaron said once they were alone and she nodded as she looked at him from across the table.

She had spent most of the afternoon looking at him, feeling her mouth go dry by the way he effortlessly lifted heavy boxes, felt tingles down her spine as she watched his large hands flex as he helped her move the couch, she wondered what his hands would feel like on her body.

“So Aaron,” She made sure to put on a face of innocence “how do you know Dave?”

“We used to work together, before he retired.” Aaron leaned back slightly in his seat as he spun noodles around his chopsticks. “He trained me.”

“Oh, so you’re working for the FBI?” She made sure to keep eye contact, trying to size him up.

“Yeah, the behavioral analysis unit.” He smiled easily and Emily found herself wanting to press a finger against the dimple in his cheek.  

“No wonder you carried those boxes like they weighed nothing.” When one of his eyebrows arched she let out a breathy laugh. “Of course I noticed, how could I not?” She batted her eyelashes and she could see him swallowing and then cleared his throat.

“I’m flattered.” He said and looked down at his plate. He should not find a girl more than 15 years younger than him this attractive, he should not wonder what her lips tasted like or imagine the softness of her skin.

“Sorry about that.” Dave is suddenly there, sitting down and Aaron breathes a sigh of relief.

He could not go there with Emily, she was off limits.

It’s been three weeks since she moved and Aaron and Dave had both popped in to help out around the apartment, building furniture and painting walls even when she had told them both that she didn’t need their help. But she wasn’t going to argue too much, because seeing Aaron always ended with her hand between her legs later that night as she thought of him. She knew that he had caught on to the flirting, but he was still keeping his distance.

What he didn’t know was that what Emily wanted, she got. And she wanted him.

It was a warm Sunday when she got home from lunch with a friend. When she entered her apartment it was bordering on suffocatingly hot and she quickly made her way towards the AC. To her frustration it was dead and she had no idea what was wrong with it. She groaned as she pushed her hair out of her face.

“Great.” She muttered and reached for her phone to call Dave.

“Hey kiddo.” He sounded unusually happy she thought.

“Hey Dave, I have a question. What do you know about AC’s?” She started to move around the apartment to open the windows.

“Absolutely nothing.” He chuckled when she let out a sound of annoyance. “Besides, I’m in LA for the weekend, coming back tomorrow. But call Aaron, he might be able to help.”

Well that got her in a great mood.

“Okay, thanks.”

“Anytime Bella.”

She hung up and made her way towards her bedroom to change as she called Aaron.

“Aaron Hotchner.” He sounded distracted she thought.

“Hey, Aaron it’s Emily.” She kicked off her jeans and tore of her t-shirt as she kept him on speakerphone.

“Emily, are you alright?” She could hear the pause in his voice and she didn’t blame him.

“Yeah I’m fine, but my AC is out and I don’t know how to fix it and Dave is gone this weekend but he suggested that I could call you… Do you think you could come over?” She bit her bottom lip as she waited for his response that seemed to take forever.

“I can be there in an hour.”

Game on.

Almost exactly 60 minutes to the dot later, he was knocking on her door. When she opened it she saw the quick look of surprise on his face at the state of her undress. She had decided on a thin tank top and the shortest shorts she owned, blaming it on the heat if he dared to bring it up.

“Thank you for coming.” She smiled and gestured for him to come inside.

“Not a problem, hopefully I can figure it out.” As he moved towards the AC, she sat down on the couch.

“I’ll call someone tomorrow if you can’t.” She let her eyes move over him, he really was a stunning man. She wasn’t sure if he heard her, his focus already on the AC as he looked it over.

It didn’t take long, Aaron pushing buttons and looking over some of the wires before the buzz of the AC sounded through the apartment and Aaron laughed.

“Well, that was quick enough.” He said, his eyes lingering on her smooth thighs for a moment before forcing himself to look away.

“Sorry you had to drive all the way here for that.” She stood from the couch and batted her eyelashes as she slowly licked her bottom lip. When his eyes fastened on it she knew that she hadn’t imagined the way he had been looking at her.

“Not a problem. But now it’s fixed so I-” His words are cut off by the feeling of Emily’s hands pushing him against the wall. She’s so close that he can smell her perfume, could count her freckles and he knows that he should push her away, but he doesn’t.

“What are you doing?” He asks instead, voice low and the raspiness of it lets her know that he’s not unaffected by her proximity.

“What does it look like I’m doing?” She pushes up against him and he backs harder into the wall. With a smirk on her face she tilts her head as she looks up at him.

“We can’t.” He shakes his head, tries to rid himself of her perfume and soft body against his. Then her hand lands on his chest and he watches as she slowly moves it up to gently grab the back of his neck. When her nails scratch the base of his skull he swallows down a groan.

“Why not?” She doesn’t let his words deter her, she could feel his want pressing against her hip, could see how his pupils dilated.

“You’re too young.” He gets out through a clenched jaw and she laughs at his reply. “And you’re basically Dave’s daughter.”

“I won’t tell if you won’t” She tugs slightly on his short hair and his hands grab her hips in response. But he doesn’t push her away, and she knows she has him. “I want you. And I know you want me too.”

“Emily…” His fingers flex around her hips as he tries to keep some resemblance of control. But there’s no denying the want he feels when he looks at her, the attraction that had been clear the moment they met. When he opened his eyes she was even closer, her lips almost brushing against his. “I should have known you were trouble from the start.”

“You have no idea.” She whispers and then her lips press against his. The moment they kiss Aaron seems to give in fully, his hands moving from where they had been frozen on her hips to the small of her back, pulling her further into him. When his tongue licked at the seam of her lips she moaned softly and she swore she heard a sound of satisfaction from him.

He pushed her back, breaking their embrace and when he looked at her again, her breathing hitched. The hesitation that had previously been there was long gone as he looked at her with something dark, his eyes moving over her body slowly, deliberately and she felt her cheeks flush.

“What?” She finally asked, almost squirming under the intensity of his stare.

“You really are a gorgeous thing.” He muttered and caught her lips in another kiss, his hand firm around the back of her neck while the other sneaked under her tank top. He broke the kiss only to taste the skin of her jaw, her neck, taking note of what spots made her gasp and moan.

“Take of your shirt.” He said and Emily let out a breathy chuckle.

“So this is how this is going to go? You barking orders at me?”

“Yes.” The tone of voice was firm, determined, his face stern as he stared her down and she could feel her cheeks heating at the same time as heat settled as a dull ache between her legs. It’s his turn to smirk, happy with how fast the tables turned. “You don’t think I can’t tell that’s what you really want? What you crave?”

She swallowed hard when his fingers tangled in her hair, giving her a moment before pulling back, forcing her head back and she gasped.

“There she is.” He mumbled against her jaw. “See you’re not as good as you make yourself out to be in front of others, are you?”

“Aaron,” Her hands were fisting his shirt, close to ripping the fabric. In a matter of seconds he had taken complete control and she had never wanted anyone more. “Please.”

“Please what?” He nipped at her bottom lip, tugging it between his teeth and pulled lightly.

“More, fuck anything.” She breathed and he let go of her hair with a hum of satisfaction.

“Come on.” He put just enough distance between them to take her hand in his and dragged her towards the bedroom. When he turned back to her he quickly grabbed the hem of her top and pulled it over her head, a low groan sounding in his throat when he saw that she wasn’t wearing a bra. “Naughty girl.”

She didn’t get the time to respond, his lips once again on hers as they started to tear at clothes. Her hands moved over his strong chest, enjoyed the heat of his skin and the feel of his chest hair against her palms before moving further down to work on his jeans. With some help from him, she got them off, his jeans and boxers landing in a pile on the floor and her shorts soon following.

The sound that ripped from his throat when she wrapped her hand around his painfully hard shaft sent tingles along her body, and she knew she needed to hear it again. She pulled him into another kiss, only licking over his bottom lip for a moment before continuing to kiss down his jaw. His stubble was rough against her lips, a feeling she enjoyed until Aaron’s heavy hand pushed in her shoulder, urging her further down.

When her knees hit the floor with a soft thump she looked up at him with wide eyes, her hand still stroking him.

“Open your mouth Emily.” He pushes his thumb between her lips and when her tongue circles the pad of it he smiles. “Good girl.” He pulls his thumb out and gives her a nod and it’s the only thing she needs before she takes his cock in between her lips.

Her mouth is wet and hot and he hisses at the sudden pleasure as she licks around the tip of him, tasting his precum with a sigh before moving further down. He throws his head back as she takes more of him, he’s sure he’s never felt a more wicked mouth around him.

Emily keeps her eyes on him, gauges his reactions and feels smug as he groans and swears above her. Like he senses it he looks back at her, and his fingers tangle in her hair again. The scratch of his short nails against her scalp makes her moan and his hips buckles against her face in return to the vibrations around his shaft.

“Can you take it all?” He growls, fingers tightening slightly as she licks the length of him. She isn’t sure she can, he’s thick and long but she was damn well going to try so she nods. Her lips wraps around him again, and she slowly pushes forward, making sure to flick her tongue and relax her throat.

“Fuck, just like that.” He doesn’t push her forward, watches in awe as she chokes and her eyes turn glassy. “Gorgeous.” He mumbles, more to himself than anything as he watches how she pulls back to breathe and then takes him back in her mouth. This time she doesn’t stop until the entire length of him has disappeared and when she chokes, he groans at the way her throat contracts around him.

She pulls back gasping, a tear falling from her eye and he carefully brushes it away and she smiles, proud that she had done what he asked. As she tries to continue, his fingers tighten in her hair and she hisses at the pull.

“Come here.” He gasps and effortlessly pulls her up to stand again. His hands move over her body, taking in every curve and valley as he lays her on the bed. He listens to her moans as he sucks on a nipple, watches the flush on her skin as he touches her everywhere except where she wants. She tries to turn them, but he’s too strong and easily pins her down with a slight shake of his head. He licks between the valley of her breasts, sucks hard on her collarbone, making her mewl. When her legs spread for him he smiles against the skin of her neck.

“What do you need?” He whispers, one hand moving between her legs, gripping the soft skin of her thigh and then slowly moving further up.

“You.” She pants, her body feeling like it was on fire from his lips and touch. She could barely think, let alone form words and for a brief moment she wonders if this is what madness felt like. Then his fingers move through her, slowly, carefully and her hips twitch.

“So wet, all for me.” He wants to taste her, wants to make her fall apart again and again but his own need to feel her wins out and he quickly rolls between her spread legs. He groans at the heat of her against him, lets the length of him move against her as he claims her lips in a breathless kiss.

“Aaron, please.” She whimpers, and he knows that the sound of her begging him will stay with him forever. He keeps his eyes on hers when he pushes inside of her, wants to see the pleasure on her face. Her jaw turns slack, her eyes drift close and a moan, breathy and loud falls from her lips and he can’t help the way his hips snap in response.

Her legs wrap around his waist, causing him to go deeper inside of her and he groans lowly. He moves with long strokes, each of his thrusts met by her moving hips. She clings to him, her nails digging into his back as he fucks her hard enough for her body to jolt. The sounds that come from her are breathy and deep and unfamiliar to her, the pleasure he’s causing almost overwhelming.

“God you’re so fucking tight.” He rasps and she can only whine in response as he sneaks a hand between them to rub her clit. When her eyes roll back and her back arches into him, he takes advantage and sucks on one of her nipples.

It’s not long before she starts to feel the coiling in her belly, and she knows that Aaron feels the way she’s clenching around him when he looks down at her with a smug grin.

“If you stop I’ll kill you.” She breathes and he chuckles but he doesn’t stop.

“Already so close. It’s going to be fun to see how many times I can get you to fall apart for me.” His voice has dropped even further, his own arousal clear as he speaks. He moves up on his knees, continues to rub her clit and holds her hip with his other hand, keeping her in place as he pushes deep and hard inside of her.

She comes in only a few moments, tensing and shaking at the same time as she cries out loud enough that she knows the neighbors would be able to hear. It only seems to spur him on, his thumb insistent on her clit, and hips strong as he fucks her through it.

“One more.” He growls and she whimpers but nods. There wasn’t a doubt in her mind that he’d make her come again.

He grunts when she starts to clench around him again in no time at all and he rubs her clit faster. Watching Emily come might be the most erotic thing he’s ever seen and he knew right then that this wouldn’t be a one-time thing. She comes with a groan, hips buckling and head thrown back as she moans his name.

It isn’t until she’s sucking in desperate breaths of air that he slows to let her come down from her high. When her eyelids finally flutter open, her dark eyes are hazy and there’s a lazy smile on her lips.

“Let me ride you.” She says and he nods before laying down.

He watches with dark eyes as she straddles him, lets his hand rest on her hips as she starts to slowly grind on him.

“You’re so big.” She gasps, the fill of him close to painful as she moves above him. Her eyes find his, sees the same pleasure reflected in his eyes that she feels and she smiles.

“I know, baby.” He whispers as he enjoys the view of her on top of him. “You’re doing so good.”

“I want you to come inside of me.” She plants her hands on his chest and starts to move faster, lifting herself up and down. “I want to feel it.”

“Jesus Christ.” He grunts, his hips pushing up against her in response. “Make me come then, filthy thing.”

Emily keeps her hands on his chest as she grinds and rocks her hips above him, wanting him to feel as good as he had made her feel. When his hands grip her hips harder she knows he’s getting close and she lets him help her move. Then one hand moves from her hip to wrap around her neck and she gasps as she looks down at him, finding the look on his face close to wild.

“Fuck, that’s it.” He growls as he squeezes slightly around her neck. “Gonna come inside of you, pretty thing, don’t stop.”

She doesn’t. If anything her movements become frenzied, the feeling of his hand around her throat and the feeling of him inside of her driving her crazy. When his hand tightens and he groans her name she whines, the sound of his name falling from her lips and it’s the last nudge he needs before his hips stutter against her and he comes with a loud grunt.

His hands loosen and she switches to slowly roll her hips against his, drawing out his pleasure until he stops her with a breathless laugh.

“Give me 30 minutes and then we’re doing that again.” He says and she feels another rush of arousal settle in her belly.

“What’s the matter, old man?” She teases and he laughs.

“Do not even think about acting like a brat right now.” He pinches her side and she jerks before settling back over his lap, happy to watch him as he catches his breath.

“So, we’re doing this again?” She asks with smiles as she looks down at him.

“Oh yes, we’re definitely doing this again.” He gently pulls her down to kiss her. “There’s no way I’m letting go of you.”

[sunstone-smiles]

The Ferocious Tiger and the Curious Spider

Author’s Note: I recently watched Across the Spider-Verse and have officially fallen down the Miguel O’Hara rabbit hole, Lol. I saw a few things comparing him to a cat, and a few days before I saw the movie I visited my friend that has kittens, which eventually led to me thinking about this popular surprised kitty video that became one of the bases of writing this, which I also directly reference in the fic! I hope you enjoy! 

(Also: This will most likely be my one and only Spider-Verse fic. I know the bare minimum when it comes to Marvel and Spider-Man, so forgive me if anything may be incorrect! I just had an urge to write for Miguel, Lol.)

Series: Across the Spider-Verse

Characters: Miguel O’Hara and Peter B. Parker

Word count: 2,095

Summary: Miguel has to finish a report with a disruptive Peter. That is, until Peter mistakenly discovers a fact about the ferocious leader of the Spider-Society that causes an even bigger, but giggly, distraction from their work. Enjoy!

—

Miguel types away at his virtual floating screens while he writes his report about the new anomaly that was successfully captured. Another Vulture from a different world, Earth-468, had broken through the dimensional barrier. Unlike other Vultures the Spider-Society fought before, this one had real feathered wings instead of mechanical ones, making the villain even harder to catch due to their increased maneuverability. And, unfortunately, Miguel needed to call for backup…again. As luck would have it, he was sent his, essentially, counter opposite to finish the fight with him. Great.

A boyish laugh from behind Miguel throws off his thought process. He tightens his fingers in annoyance and growls under his breath. He glares over his shoulder to see Peter B. Parker in his pink robe, sitting on a nearby desk with his legs dangling off the edge and his eyes glued to the screen of his phone. The other man is unaccompanied by his small child he usually has protectively strapped to his chest.

Peter erupts into disruptive laughter again at whatever moving picture is on his device, further driving Miguel’s patience through a wall.

“Do you have to be so noisy back there?” Miguel snarls and tries to refocus on his work.

Peter reels in his laughter, even whipping a joyful tear from his eye. “Ohoho, sorry Miguel. I’m just trying to keep myself occupied while watching these hilarious cat videos.” Peter jumps up from the desk to lean over Miguel’s shoulder and shove the phone in his face. “Here! Watch this one!”

“Parker!” Miguel nearly smacks the device away, “I’m busy!”

Peter retracts his hand. “Alright then, maybe later.” He then returns to his seat on the desk behind Miguel.

A rumble of frustration is heard from Miguel’s throat. “You’re lucky you need to be here with me to finish this report…” Miguel swipes a finger at one of his floating monitors. “And haven’t you watched enough cat videos already? You shoved that screen in my face to show me one and I got thrown into a wall—twice.”

“I need to find more to show Mayday,” Peter starts to gush about his daughter, “Her laugh is so cute when she watches them. They’re funny!”

“Not when you’re in the middle of a fight!”

“Hey, you’ve got to take a break to laugh every now and then, right?” Peter ends his statement with a head tilt and a smile toward Miguel.

Miguel rolls his eyes and tries to return to business on his own, important, digital screens. 

Once the room turns quiet again, Peter glances up from his phone. He notices Miguel shifting his shoulders from discomfort, like he’s trying to adjust from something bothering him. Upon closer inspection, Peter detects an object that looks like a small, pointed pin needle poking out from behind Miguel’s collar of his spider suit. He couldn’t believe that he didn’t notice it earlier when he leaned over to show him the video. Peter quietly gets up from the desk and approaches the other man. 

“Miguel?”

Miguel lets out an impatient huff. He refuses to even turn around. “What do you want now, Parker?”

“Hold still.”

Miguel pauses from that unusual statement. “Wha-Ah!” Miguel leaps out of his chair with a visceral reaction and whips around with a growl. One hand clutches the back of his neck, while the other is prepared to attack the culprit.

“Whoa! Relax tiger!” Peter holds out a hand to reassure him. In his other hand, however, Peter holds up a large, shiny, and black coated feather—one that looks similar, if not exact, to a real bird feather. “This was caught in the back of your neck. It must have gotten stuck during our fight with that villain Vulture.” He twirls the feather in his fingers, “I’m surprised it got caught back there, being that you’re wearing a skin-tight bodysuit and all.”

Miguel clears his throat. He narrows his eyes to return to his intimidating appearance. “A little warning next time would be nice.”

“Sorry, but I didn’t expect you to react like that,” Peter places the feather on the desk. “I mean, a feather usually gains that reaction from someone who’s—” He suddenly stops himself with a gasp when the realization hits him. His eyes expand as he looks at Miguel. “Wait,” Peter blinks at the other man in shock. “Miguel…are you ticklish?”

The other Spider-Man quickly scoffs. “Don’t be ridiculous.” Miguel then turns back to his work. 

Peter raises an eyebrow. He absolutely isn’t buying Miguel’s unfazed demeanor. A crack in his tough appearance showed when that feather grazed his neck, and Peter is determined to get to the bottom of it. Miguel is purposely trying to hide it from him. Well, not for long.

Peeking over Miguel’s shoulders again to make sure he’s distracted by his work, Peter tests his theory by promptly delivering a jab to Miguel’s side. The other man jolts with a small yelp and a choked out giggle. Miguel twists his head around to glare at Peter, but his menacing gaze shifts into wide eyes when he sees Peter grinning right at him. A little voice in Miguel’s head tells him to run.

With no time to spare, Miguel bolts out of his chair and dashes past Peter. He books it towards the automatic metal doors at the other end of the room; however, a web shot hits directly at the nape of his neck and yanks him backwards to the floor. Miguel kicks his legs and tugs at the rope of web above him as he’s quickly reeled in like a fish. Before Miguel can cut the web with his claws, Peter grabs the back of his suit collar, leaving Miguel immobilized like a kitten being held tight by the scruff of its neck.

“Peter!” Miguel roars and struggles to break free of the surprisingly tight hold of the other Spider-Man. “Let go!”

“So let me get this straight,” Peter comments from above, ignoring the other man’s shouting. “If I try this, you’re going to giggle?” he ends his question with a clawing motion into Miguel’s outstretched underarm. Miguel sputters out another yelp and reflexively clamps his arm down, before raising it back up to desperately swipe and grasp at the hand behind him holding him captive. He snarls through his teeth to keep back the giggles boiling from within his chest. A smile threatens to tug at the corners of his mouth the more Peter scratches at the hollow of his underarm.

“Trying to act tough are we?” Peter asks with a tone of mischief, “Don’t worry, I can fix that!”

In a few swift movements, Peter releases his hold on Miguel’s collar and dives both of his hands to dig into the other man’s ribs.

“AHA! Peheheheter!” Miguel can’t contain his laughter any longer, “Yohohohour gohohoing to pahahay for thihihihs!”

“Eh, your empty threats don’t scare me. Besides, seeing this is worth any price,” Peter smiles above him. 

“Grrr!” Miguel attempts to tear himself from Peter’s clutches, “I’m gohohoing to—AHACK!” but he’s cut off by more of his own laughter when Peter scribbles again into his underarms. Miguel forcefully twists to the side and flops onto his stomach, while Peter continues his attack with squeezes to his sides.

“You’re going to what Miguel? Sorry, I can’t hear you. I think your laughter is muffling your words.”

“Cuhuhuhut it ohohohout!” Miguel demands while he claws at the ground. Peter creeps his fingers back up to the outline of Miguel’s ribs, making the man jolt and wrap an arm around his torso for defense. Miguel, unfortunately, lets out a giggly snort, and he drops his head to the floor, almost as if he was hiding himself from an embarrassing defeat against Peter’s tickly method.

“And miss out on this opportunity to make the leader of the Spider-Society giggle like a hyena? Not a chance,” Peter beams. Miguel tries taking a slash at him from behind, but Peter uses the opportunity to wiggle his fingers into Miguel’s unprotected underarm, causing Miguel to curl up onto his side. Peter follows up by grabbing Miguel’s shoulder and easily flipping the man onto his back, which gives Peter better access to Miguel’s ticklish torso.

Peter grins when he sees a new opening. “Maybe this big cat is so feisty because he just needs a few…” his voice heightens in anticipation, “belly rubs!” He finishes his sentence and strikes at Miguel’s middle to vibrate his hands back and forth across his tummy.

“PEHEHETER!” Miguel tosses his head back with a roar of increased laughter, “Nohohohoho!!!” The bigger man bats and tugs at Peter’s wrists to yank himself away from the devious fingers, but Peter easily has the advantage to keep scribbling at the soft spot that is his stomach.

Peter chuckles at the other man’s loud reaction. Seeing this squirmy Miguel reminds him of something. “You know, I saw a video the other day called Surprised Kitty where a small kitten was tickled and threw its paws up in the air. I wonder if you’ll do the same. Let’s see!”

“Dohon't you daHAHARE!” Miguel jolts to fold his middle when Peter scritches both of his hands at Miguel’s belly.  

To Miguel’s dismay, Peter uses a baby voice as if he was tickling his daughter Mayday instead of the leader of the Spider-Society. Peter says the words so fast that it sounds more like the squeaky gibberish of a guinea pig. “Goochie goochie goochie goo!” He teasingly raises his voice higher in pitch when uttering the last word, then lifts his hands away, as if he was playing a tickly version of peekaboo with Miguel.

“Grraah!” Miguel launches himself forward and clings onto Peter’s shoulders in an attempt to shove him away, but Peter quickly dives his hands back towards Miguel’s tummy to repeat the same scritches and coos, taking advantage of Miguel’s defenseless opening.

“AHA! Pahaharker!” Miguel darts his hands down to nab the other Spider-Man's wrists from his belly. Peter quickly slips his hands away again to momentarily halt his attack. Miguel snarls and takes a swipe at him, “Will you—GAHAHA!” but he misses, flops back to the ground, and busts into more laughter when Peter pounces at his vulnerable tummy for a third time.

“Goochie goochie goochie goo!” Peter teasingly repeats. 

“Will yohohou quhihiit thahahaht!!!” Miguel kicks his legs out from behind Peter. He leans his head back with another snort. Miguel’s smile is so big his fangs that he usually keeps hidden are showing.

“What? You can’t handle the spidering of my fingers?” Peter chuckles while he purposely scribbles around the edges of Miguel’s belly, “Forgive the pun.”

A dad joke is the least of Miguel’s problems right now. As much as Miguel doesn’t want to give in to this rambunctious Peter and his uncalled for ambush, Miguel’s strength has all but been completely zapped away with his laughter. The best course of action now is to surrender.

“AHAHALRIGHT!” Miguel squeals through his laughter, “Enohohohough!!!” 

Peter chuckles, “I hear ya, big guy.” Immediately, Peter withdraws his hands, for good this time, to allow Miguel a well-deserved rest. Miguel wraps his arms around himself and lies on the floor for a few moments before rolling onto his stomach and propping himself off the ground with any remaining strength he has left. 

Peter squats down and pats him on the back “You alright, big guy?”

Miguel growls and smacks Peter’s hand away from him. He glares directly at Peter’s face, his eyes snarling, his fangs bared. “Never speak of this to anyone!”

Peter performs a zipping motion across his mouth. “My lips are sealed.” He pauses to change his mouth into a smile, “Buuut I keep no promises.”

Miguel hisses out a huff. Not very reassuring, but at least it’s something.

Miguel then lifts himself back to his feet, while Peter pulls out his phone.

“And enough with the cat videos!” Miguel snaps towards Peter’s direction when he sees the device, “I’ve had enough of hearing about those furry menaces for one day.” Miguel takes a deep breath with a lingering grumble and pinches the bridge of his nose. “Let’s just finish this report and get it over with,” he turns to move to his desk of virtual screens. 

Peter puts his phone away with another chuckle, “Got it. Duly noted.” He found enough cat videos to show Mayday when he gets home anyway. Plus, he can’t wait to tell her a new story he learned today about a ferocious tiger who turned giggly from a curious spider.

[froggibus]

Stay - Leon Kennedy

Pairing: Leon Kennedy x f! reader (reader uses fem pronouns + has a pussy)

Genre: smut/NSFW

Word count: 1.8k

Summary: Leon shows you that his commitment issues don’t apply to you

CW: porn w plot, friends to lovers, slight dubcon (Leon convinces reader why she should have sex with him), alcohol (both reader and Leon are slightly drunk), unprotected sex (make good choices lol), breeding, cum stuffing, multiple creampies, impreg, size kink if you squint, lots of dirty talk, essentially just pure filth + some fluff at the end

i am back from the dead and horny as ever lmfao. y’all would not believe the absolute whirlwind month ive had but I’m here now so that’s all that matters. also leon is a little OOC here but I don’t care so…

You get five steps to the front door of Leon Kennedy’s house before strong arms envelop your waist and drag you into him. Flushed cheeks press against yours as he leans his mouth closer to your ear, “where are you going?”

“Home, Leon,” you sigh, struggling to break free of his warm skin. “I need to go home, this isn’t…”

He releases you from his grasp, spinning you around to face him. “This isn’t what?”

You curse yourself and the way the sight of his sun kissed skin underneath his tight black t-shirt makes your panties dampen. You squeeze your eyes shut. It’s just the alcohol talking. But it isn’t. The desire you feel for the man in front of you has nothing to do with the frozen daiquiris you’d shared on his porch earlier in the night. It was something that had been building for years, waiting for the right time. And the right time was when Leon leaned in, brushed the hair from your face and whispered; “stay with me.”

“This isn’t right. You’re drunk and—it just isn’t right.”

He steps closer to you, the hunger in his eyes making you swallow hard. “Bullshit.” He enunciates every word, staring directly into your eyes.

You step backwards. “Leon.” 

“Y/n,” he counters, stepping closer. His frame is so much larger than yours. He’s really filled out over the years, and though you’ve always forced yourself not to look, it’s impossible when he’s so close to you.

No matter how annoyed you are with him, there’s a flicker of something else in your chest. Something electric and dangerous, that secretly loves the way he’s trapped you between himself and a wall. Something that loves how much bigger he is than you.

“Don’t you like me?” He leans an arm on the wall above your head, smirking down at you.

Fuck. “I-I like you, but you’re drunk and—” You break off from your sentence, too flustered by the way he’s towering over you and looking at you like you’re the only thing he’s ever wanted in his whole life. 

“And?” His face is so close to yours, the smell of wine fanning your face. 

“You have commitment issues, Leon!  I don’t want to start anything knowing you’re just gonna leave me afterwards.”

He scrunches his face, tilting his head at you. “You think I’m gonna leave you?”

You sigh, “let’s just turn in for the night.”

He gets even closer to you if that’s possible, his face an inch from yours, his chest pressed into yours. The hard on in his jeans presses against your hip bone and you suck in a breath. 

“Not with you, y/n. Never with you,” he whispers. “Let me prove it to you. Let me fuck you and show you that you’re mine.”

The words have your jaw dropping, a fire spreading through your body. You can feel your slick dripping down your thighs, and based on the smirk on his face, Leon knows it. 

“Leon,” you whisper, ready to protest, but it’s Leon and your guard is down and everything is hot and your head is so fuzzy. 

He closes the gap, hungry lips devouring yours. He tastes like wine and mint and everything you’ve ever wanted, and it has you tugging him forwards by the fabric of his shirt. Your hand grazes the stripe of bare skin where his shirt doesn’t quite meet his jeans and he groans. 

He grinds into you, rubbing against your thighs and hips. One of his hands is on your waist, the other in your hair. One taste and Leon is gone, melting into you and consumed with only the thought of claiming what’s his. What’s always been his. 

He kisses down to your neck, sucking a rough mark into the spot just above your collarbone. You whimper, threading your fingers through his hair. Before you can even register what’s happening, he’s ripping your shirt over your head and tossing it somewhere to the side. 

You gasp at the cold air on your warm skin, and you have no time to recover from the shock before Leon is leaving needy kisses down your chest. You clench your thighs, trying to control the desperate waves of pleasure rolling over you. 

“Le—Leon…”

He groans against your skin, moving his arms up your waist. He lifts you up suddenly and you get the hint, wrapping your legs around his waist. His hands cup your ass and he stumbles his way to the bedroom while you kiss along his jaw. 

He tosses you onto the bed, standing at the edge while he pulls his shirt over his head. The way his arms flex while he pulls off the fabric makes you whine in want. His thick fingers make quick work of his jeans and underwear, and suddenly he’s standing in front of you in his full glory. 

He looks like a god in the moonlight, all tanned skin and rippling muscles and those fucking eyes that are looking at you like you’re his world. 

He clutches his cock, slowly stroking it while looking into your eyes. “Why are your pants still on?” 

It’s posed like a question, but the undertone is commanding, and you find yourself obeying with no question. You slide your pants and soaked panties off, rolling them into a ball and throwing them onto the floor. 

Leon stares at your glistening pussy in awe. This is all he’s ever wanted, and seeing you naked in his bed, hair messy and pussy dripping? It’s enough to make him feral. He’s never letting you go after this. 

A dark look falls across his face, and a chill goes up your spine. “Lay down on your stomach,” he says. 

You flip over, face and tits pressed against his comforter. You can feel the bed dip down where he crawls into it, feel his hot breath on your bare pussy. 

He licks a stripe up your pussy, groaning at the taste. His hand still grips his cock, jerking it onto your thigh. He presses a hand onto the small of your back, pushing you further into the mattress and forcing you to arch your back. 

He pulls his face out from between your thighs, rubbing his cock head against your clit. He thrusts his cock between your folds, getting it lubed up with your own slick. You whine from the bare minimum contact, trying to push your hips back onto his. 

His grip on your hip is impossibly tight, fingers digging in hard enough to leave bruises. You don’t care, though. All you can focus on is the heat of his body against yours and how badly you want him to shove his cock inside of you and claim you. 

“Ready?” He plants a kiss on your shoulder. 

“Please just—I need you, Leon.”

Your whiny desperate voice is all he needs to hear. He thrusts into you in one, fluid motion, his thick cock stretching you out so much it’s painful. You knew he was big, but not this big. He doesn’t stop to adjust, but he keeps his thrusts slow and steady, trying to mold your walls to the shape of his cock. 

“I—it’s too big,” you whine. 

Leon feels a swell of pride at that, and it only encourages him to thrust harder. “You can take it,” he groans. “I’m gonna ruin this pussy. Ruin it until you can only take my cock.” 

His words have you clenching down hard on his cock, juices squeezing through the tiny gaps between his cock and your pussy. He thrusts harder, faster, slamming his hips into yours. 

“God, how could you think I would leave you after this?” He punctuates every word with a thrust, hips pistoning into yours, “such a nice, tight pussy.”

“Fuck, Lee, I’m close!”

“Mmm, you want me to cum inside of you baby? Fuck you full of my cum, claim you as mine? Breed you until all you can think about is my cock?”

“Fuck, yes!” You whine, “I-I want it so bad.”

Your words only encourage him to keep going, his hand reaching down to toy with your clit. You’re so close to the edge, you just need one more—Leon tugs on your hair, forcing your back against his chest, and you’re sent spiraling over the edge. 

You cum so hard you collapse back onto the bed, Leon collapsing on top of you as he pumps his cum inside of you. He holds you against him, making sure not even a drop slips out. 

You have no time to recover before Leon is thrusting into you again. His cock is already aching from the overstimulation and how hard your pussy is squeezing him, but he doesn’t care. All he wants is to fuck you full of his cum and breed you until you have no choice but to be his forever. 

You know what he’s doing, too, and the thought of having his baby is so fucking hot that you don’t care. You weakly push your hips back against his, your brain begging for a break but your needy pussy wanting more. 

Leon doesn’t last nearly as long this time, not with the mixture of his cum inside of you and the way you’re whimpering and begging him to fuck you full. He explodes inside of you, hot streams of cum making your eyes roll back in your head. His orgasm triggers another one for you, way more intense than the first.

Your breaths shorten and it’s a struggle to stay conscious, but by some miracle, you manage. You’re so full of Leon’s cum that it’s borderline painful, but still he doesn’t pull his cock out. 

He flips you over so that you’re on your back, facing him. He plants a sloppy kiss to your lips and continues thrusting, “do you like being full of my cum, baby?”

You can only nod and somewhat whine in agreement, Leon smiling at how fucking cute and fucked out you sound. 

“Just one more,” he pants, ruthlessly fucking into you. 

Both of you are shivering from the sensitivity, but all Leon can focus on is your sweaty, shaking form below him and how fucking hot you would look carrying his baby. How hot you would look if you were his forever. 

“You want me to cum in you again baby? Keep cumming and stuffing you full of my cum? Want me to make you a mommy?”

You gasp, nodding your head. “Yes, yes please! Make me a mommy, please.” 

He cums quickly, filling you so full that it leaks out in the gaps between where his cock and your pussy meet. He watches it drip out of you in a trance, collecting some of it on his finger and smearing it across your clit. 

You whine, but your body is far too tired to cum again no matter how much you want to. Leon collapses on top of you, pressing messy kisses to your neck and cheeks. 

He kisses you softly and tugs you closer to him. “You’ll stay, right? At least for the night?”

The sentiment takes you back, just for a second. Here you were, teasing him for his commitment issues, while he begs you to stay with him. 

“I’m staying,” you whisper, cuddling closer to him. “And not just for the night.”

[halcy0ng1rl]

To start, I really loved Nesses Journal. The characterization for both Vanny and Vanessa was on point. You changed the way I look at both of them forever! I wanna try to maybe make something like that one day, but I'm having trouble getting the characterization down for both of them. Vanny in particular. Can you give some pointers please?

So happy you liked it!!

Vanny, to me, is Vanessa if she could let go with no restrictions. Knowing Vanessa’s past, it’s likely she was forced to grow up very quickly, so I usually depict Vanny as pretty childish. Exclamation marks, doodles, pop music.

However there’s also that side of Vanny that has that naivety, not quite understanding why what she’s doing is wrong, trusting Glitchtrap and seeing him as a father figure for her and Vanessa. Not understanding why the Vanessa side of her doesn’t want to submit, because she sees this all as a game. As the most fun she’s ever had.

However in canon it’s likely the Vanny side of Vanessa does not have that much depth and is just her murderous fun alter ego, but that’s just how I portray her ;)

So, in short, childish but mean spirited and a bit of a trickster.

As for Vanessa, I categorize her characterization during the events of the VR era into three acts.

Act 1: Pre Posession

Act 2: resistance

Act 3: Acceptance

During act 1, she’s trying to figure things out for herself and forget her past rather than confront it. (She compartmentalizes it all) To try and get back the childhood she had stolen from her, she incorporates bright colours into her adult life: rainbow hair extensions, glittery journals and cupcake cookbooks. She’s a young woman in her 20’s adjusting to the working world while also dealing with her own personal demons— outwardly happy but inwardly conflicted.

In act 2 things take a turn for the worse. She’s irritable, and wants nothing to do with anyone. Maybe she lapses back into old habits from when she was younger, forming self destructive tendencies and shutting everyone away who’s trying to help her. She’s grasping at parts of herself and trying so desperately to cling onto who she is, but as her father broke her when she was younger, glitchtrap is now breaking the new foundations she built for herself. During this act Vanessa doesn’t wear her rainbow extensions anymore, and barely takes care of herself. She’s basically a shell of who she is.

In act 3, Vanessa is gone. She’s basically just a vessel for glitchtrap. While she has control over most of her body, she doesn’t use it to fight back anymore and instead just does whatever he wants. To keep up the act of being a normal person, she does take care of herself, she acts like anyone should. But her emotions and frustrations sometimes get the better of her, so essentially if she isn’t a robot she’s the angriest person you’ve probably ever seen.

This is RIDDLED with personal headcanons so take this as you will, but I’m glad you liked my interpretation of her :)

Also side note she’s a lesbian because I said so lol

[birbleafs]

[fic] Stasis

Series: Genshin Impact Rating: T Characters/Pairing: Kavetham. Al-Haitham, Kaveh, Cyno and Tighnari. Also, very brief mentions of Al-Haitham’s grandmother and parents. Additional Tags: Canon Divergent, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Mild/Bittersweet Angst (but there's a happy ending I promise), essentially a what-if scenario with the Divine Knowledge capsules. Summary: Al-Haitham and Kaveh run into several anomalies, and are trapped in a cyclic stasis. A/N: I lied, I do have a short birthday ficlet lol. Inspired mostly by that one hauntingly gorgeous fanart on twitter. The idea wouldn't leave my brain for weeks, so I had to keysmash out some feels :'') Also, happy birthday to my favouritest weirdo cat, Al-Haitham ❤︎ Fic can also be read on AO3. _______

It’s the seventh time they have walked down this narrow path through the dimly-lit underpass. The seventh time they have passed by too-familiar faces, too-cherished voices; ghostly whispers and distorted laughter that creep closer at every turn, at every flicker between shadow and light. The ceramic tiles lining the walls of the underpass are a polished bone-white, void of any pixel or colour. The overhead lamps are humming with a persistently piercing drone that crawls down his spine, prickling glass shards beneath his skin. Nonetheless, Al-Haitham doesn’t cease from stepping in just as Kaveh reaches an arm out towards the beckoning silhouettes; never hesitates to prevent Kaveh from pursuing guilt and being ensnared by long-dead memories that only mimic fleeting shadows of happiness without the warmth, always dragging Kaveh away to safety, again and again and again… even if it means both of them remain trapped in a cyclic stasis, in this repetitious melancholy of despondency.

He may not have realised it yet— (He does; he always does) Or perhaps he can’t quite bring himself to steady the tremulous disquiet within his heart. To accept and acquiesce to reason, to the unfaltering truth— (He must; this… this isn’t like him at all!) Al-Haitham trudges on, his brow creased into a barely imperceptible frown as he tightens his hold around Kaveh; presses his fingers against the pulse thrumming brightly along Kaveh’s left wrist. He’s not letting go of Kaveh again (Al-Haitham's already lost him once before; already lost Teyta… lost far too many too soon, these little pieces of his own, of home). He can’t, he won’t… “—isten, Al-Haitham! Haitham!” Kaveh’s troubled voice startles him then, breaking through the fog of nebulous thoughts, the rising surge of emotion and memories. He flicks a furtive gaze over his shoulder, head angled in confusion. Kaveh is heaving, inhaling deep breaths as though he had been running miles within the labyrinthine twist of tunnels, even though Al-Haitham is certain they had only walked less than thirty paces ahead on this one straight path. “I’m sorry, Haitham,” Kaveh says as he lifts his head; meets Al-Haitham’s perplexed teal gaze with a wry and near-despondent smile. “But I have to save you too.” The knife is already buried deep within his chest, the bitter surprise only a lingering aftertaste when Kaveh closes the distance between them in a whirl of crimson, gold and blue. “Kaveh…?” Al-Haitham chokes at the wrenching pain, unresisting as Kaveh pulls him into a stifling embrace. His vision is already flickering with dark spots, pain searing beneath his skin when Kaveh drives the sharp blade further into his flesh. Blood trails bright and crimson beneath the jewelled piercing in Al-Haitham’s chest and he relents completely, giving into the darkness.

※

When he blinks awake once more, Kaveh is brushing grime and the smudged kohl from the corner of his eyes, trembling but warm hands still cupping at his face. “We’ve confiscated all the lost Capsules and shut them off. That should've severed the link completely. There might still be some residuals, but there shouldn’t be any serious effects remaining from these forgeries.” The… General Mahamatra’s voice drifts from somewhere behind Kaveh. Another figure glances over him briefly, long furry ears twitching in concern—someone that Al-Haitham thinks he should recognise easily but he can’t quite sieve the exact name from the dregs of this mental fog. “His heart rate is a little elevated, but his breathing looks to be normal. We should still get him checked at the Bimarstan, however, just as a precaution. But it’s all right, Kaveh; he should be relatively fine.” “Kaveh,” Al-Haitham says hoarsely, when the mist gradually recedes from his mind and he finally remembers. He presses Kaveh’s trembling left hand closer against his cheek, and exhales a slow, deep sigh. “You fool.” Kaveh’s voice is low and strained, raw with the conflicting meld of emotions, even if he doesn't recoil from Al-Haitham’s touch; doesn’t release his hold. His fingers curl tight into the dishevelled strands of Al-Haitham’s matted hair, drawing Al-Haitham close to his chest once more. “You arrogant, reckless fool. It could have been worse. You could have been trapped in a coma, your mind broken forever… You could have died, Haitham, and I would have lost yo—! I—Ugh—Don’t you ever go off without me again!” For once, he doesn’t refute Kaveh’s flurry of accusations; doesn’t brush away the stray tears that drip from Kaveh’s crumbling expression to his forehead as the clouds of worry and apprehension finally burst and solace washes over both of them. “Thank you,” Al-Haitham huffs a soft, ragged laugh instead as he returns the embrace, grounding himself once more in the warmth of Kaveh’s hold. “For coming back for me. For saving me.�� —End— _______ End Notes:

- Teyta/Teta [ تِيتا ] = Arabic for "grandmother". The formal way of addressing your grandmother in standard Arabic is jaddah [ جَدَّ ] but there are many variations depending on the region and dialect used. Also iirc, teyta is informal and commonly used by children. I like the headcanon that Al-Haitham likely still addresses Grandma (in his head anyway) the way he did as a child.

- I had actually planned to write and post a longer AU oneshot for Al-Haitham's birthday. But work has been eating my brain/energy and keeping me too busy, so I've decided to let this other WIP percolate and simmer a little longer. Hopefully it'll be ready for posting by Kaveh's birthday? Then they can both share a birthday gift fic - they’re already joined at the hip anyway lol.

- When I wrote this short fic, I didn't know anything about The Exit 8 game and have only seen different fanart versions of the redraw meme. So I wrote this from the perspective of Al-Haitham not being aware that his mind was slowly being corrupted by (seemingly) forged Divine Knowledge capsules which turned out to have residuals of Forbidden Knowledge. And of course, the plot-twist of him being saved by Kaveh instead (you save the ones you care for and are saved in return)...

- Sorry but also not sorry lol about the (literal) knife of feels to the heart :") Something something, the symbolism of Kaveh being the one to sever the grasps of Forbidden Knowledge from completely overwhelming and breaking Al-Haitham's mind. Yeah.

- Comments are always lovely; if you've enjoyed this, I'd love to hear what you think. Thank you for reading!

[roosterbox]

Stripper Steve/Writer Eddie

Inspired by my results from a NSFW generator tweet, lol. This is just a brainstorming session, mainly so I can put SOMETHING in my WIP folder for this idea.

Said results were: Stripper Steve, Writer Eddie, At a Gay Bar, Size Kink. Simple enough. It could be either a smutty PWP one-shot, or a smutty epic romance. I could see it going either way, but I never met a story I couldn’t spice up by adding romantic clichés.

So Writer!Eddie meets Stripper!Steve at a gay bar. Sparks fly, as they often do. Eddie has a bit of a size kink, and loves how strong and muscular Steve is compared to him. They talk a little bit about their respective professions (especially Steve, who wants to nip any anti-sex work or anti-stripper bias Eddie may have in the bud as quick as possible. He’s been slut-shamed about it way too many times to count; Eddie’s cool with it), and decide to head back to Eddie’s place to have sex. Turns out Eddie has a huge dick, and Steve has a size kink too.

[if this was a PWP one-shot, this is where it would end. But I love to complicate things, lol, and so it continues…]

Initially, the plan is just for a one night stand, but of course, this is Steddie, and they can’t get enough of each other. They start meeting up semi-regularly. And it’s not just sex either. Sometimes they have dinner beforehand. Sometimes one of them spends the night and stays for breakfast. It doesn’t take long for them to develop, ugh, FEELINGS. Eddie, who’s been in a bit of a creative dry spell lately, finds himself able to write again. Sometimes he’ll even read Steve a few passages from his novel in progress (Steve, who is semi-dozing beside him in bed, is only half-listening, but tells him it sounds good).

But eventually, because romance story cliché, some wires get crossed. Maybe Steve realizes he’s catching feelings (caught feelings, really - these boys are down BAD), and breaks things off. Maybe they both say hurtful things they don’t mean. It’s easy to be hurt when you’ve fallen so hard.

Some time later (idk, a year? Don’t press me for details, I’m spitballing here, lol), Eddie’s book comes out. Bestseller, naturally. It’s not specifically a love story, but the love is practically dripping off every page (not like that, ya nasty). It’s textual, but also abstract and symbolic. It’s painfully obvious to anyone who reads it that Eddie was in love, but it didn’t work out. Someone (Robin? Yeah, Robin) lends Steve the book and tells him to read it. Because she is wise and knows all. He does, and is incredibly touched and emotional about it. Because even though people have been teasing him for being “just a pretty face” his whole life (which he’s not of course), even Steve can read between the lines. In fact, he even recognizes a few lines in the book from Eddie reading them to him in bed. Said lines are essentially a love confession. And Steve realizes that even though he might have fucked up worse than anyone has ever fucked up in their life, he needs to see Eddie again. Even if Eddie ends up slamming the door in his face, which he’d deserve, he must.

At Eddie’s place, Eddie doesn’t immediately slam the door, but it’s a near thing. Steve starts off by telling him he read the book. That it was amazing. Talks about the symbolism. Talks about how much he related to the main characters (especially the one obviously based on himself). He’s rambling, a bit nervous and awkward, but it eventually becomes him talking about his own feelings. Getting a bit worked up. There may be a heartfelt apology in there somewhere. He’s essentially baring his entire heart and soul right there on Eddie’s doorstep.

Eddie, for his part, is cold to Steve at first. Which is understandable - he got his heart broken, after all. But the more Steve rambles, the softer Eddie gets, until he can feel tears pricking at his eyes.

“Um,” Steve says, finally losing steam after god knows how long, “well. That’s it I guess. Sorry to just show up here. I’ll let you get back to what you’re doing. I’ll see you around…” That last bit said with the air of ‘I know we’ll probably never see each other again.’

He turns to leave, already planning to head to Robin’s place to raid her ice cream freezer and cry, but before he gets even once step, Eddie grabs him. Pulls him inside. Shuts the door. Practically shoves him against it. He’s surprisingly strong for how skinny he is, as Steve had found out early in their…interactions.

“Steven Middle Name Harrington,” he growls, but he’s smiling. “You are, without a doubt, the single most insufferable human being I have ever met in my life. You leave your dirty socks on the floor, you let dishes sit for too long, your hair clogs the drain more than mine - which, how is that even possible? You have more beauty products than a cosmetics department, you snore like a lumberjack, and you can barely cook anything more advanced than instant ramen. And-“ he pauses. Steve winces; he’s torn because Eddie’s words sound angry, but he’s still smiling? Was that a tear? “And I love you so much it’s made me stupid because here I am, with you in my house again, in my arms, and all I want to do is kiss you silly.”

Steve smiles, letting his tears fall freely now. They both are. He reaches over to cup Eddie’s face in his hands.

“Don’t hold back on my account,” he tries to tease, but to Eddie it sounds more like “I love you too.”

The kiss feels like coming home. A very wet and salty coming home perhaps, but a homecoming nonetheless.

[tonysslut]

Hey!!

Could I officially request this?

Like, just older, dark-ish Tony carelessly overstimulating you over and over again (and being pretty rough too)

Hi! I hope this turned out how you wanted. I'm still figuring out how to write dark!tony lol. and the ending it kinda shitty but that's expected

Summary: Tony tried being gentle, but he just can't hold back anymore

Warnings: Smut, dirty talk, overstimulation, unprotected sex, choking, cream pie, slight size kink.

W/C: 1.1k

Tony Stark Masterlist

Seeing your small, naked frame sprawled out on his bed was a sight for sore eyes. You looked so fragile, almost like one wrong move would break you. That drove him completely wild. He used every ounce of his willpower to be gentle with you last night, but he doesn’t think he’ll be able to restrain himself today.

You feel his fingers dancing along your side, causing goosebumps to rise on your skin. He slowly woke you up, pressing opened mouth kisses on your shoulder, his thumb brushing over your hardened nipple.

“Tony.” You breathe out, feeling your clit starting to throb with need. 

He rolls over and spreads your legs to settle in between them. His heavy cock rested on your stomach, tip an angry shade of red with beads of precum leaking onto your skin. Leaning down, he leads you into a passionate kiss, his tongue slipping into your mouth as you moan.

He pushes your legs to your chest with his thighs, leaving you bare to him. Caging you in with his big arms, essentially trapping you. Your cunt glistens with your arousal. He groans, seeing how wet you are. 

“You want daddy's cock?” He says, voice laced with lust. You instantly shake your head, biting your bottom lips when he rubs his bulbous head in between your puffy folds. He tsks, shaking his head in disappointment. 

“What did I tell you last night? Use your big girl words, or have you already gone dumb?” His words go straight to your core, making you clench around nothing. 

“M’sorry daddy. I want you inside me, please.” You whine, shaking your hips to see if he finally sinks inside you. 

He gives you a quick ‘good girl’ before lining up with your entrance and slowly pushing into you. Tony circles his hips when he bottoms out, your nails digging into his biceps at the intensity. Pulling out, he leaves just the tip in before pushing back in, making you gasp and clench around him. He closes his eyes and tries desperately to recompose himself, but he loses it when he opens his eyes. 

Your eyes are glazed over, senses completely taken over by Tony. His aroma wraps around you, mind going blank. You notice his eyes darkening, a feral look that sends a chill up your spine. The speed of his movements increases, blurring the lines of pleasure and pain.

“T-tony. Slow down.” You rush out, feeling like he’s about to split you in half. 

He grabs your face, squishing your cheeks together as he speaks. “You take what I give you. Understood?” You try your best to respond, but between his grip on you and his thrusts, it comes out more like an incoherent mumble.

You feel him squeeze your cheeks, ‌parting your lips and spitting into your mouth. You moan at the obscene action, your walls fluttering as you swallow. 

“Dirty girl, I can feel your greedy cunt clenching around my cock. Gonna cum?” He says in a mocking tone. 

“Yes! Yes, please. I’m so close.” Tears fill your eyes at the intensity, jaw going slack when Tony presses two fingers on your swollen clit. The extra stimulation makes your orgasm rip through you, toes curling as your legs shake. Your cunt tightens around Tony’s cock, almost making it impossible for him to thrust into you. 

He throws his head back with a low roar at the feeling. The bit of restraint he had is now lost when he sees tears running down your cheeks. He places his hands on your waist and leans back until you're straddling him, your hands dropping to his chest to stabilize yourself. 

“Grind that pretty pussy on me, baby.” You do as he says, moving your hips back and forth, feeling the sparse hairs on his pelvis rub against your sensitive clit. “Just like that, good fucking girl.” 

Your legs shake as you move, still riding out your previous orgasm. Tony’s hand creeps up your front, pinching your hardened nipple before wrapping it around your throat. He watches as your eyes roll back, squeezing just enough to give you a head buzz. 

You wrap your hands around his wrist, lips parting at the feeling. Tony takes the opportunity to push two fingers past your parted lips. Your eyes widen, but you enclose your lips around his thick digits, moaning as you suck on them. 

“Look at you, sucking daddy’s finger while you ride me. Such a dirty whore.”

He pushes his fingers further into your mouth, causing you to gag around them. His fingers glisten with your spit when he pulls them out, bringing them down to rub your clit. You jerk away at the sensation, still feeling sensitive from your previous orgasm.

“Don’t run away from me, princess.” He growls, placing his free hand on your hip to keep you grinding on his cock.  

“Too s-senstive.” You whine, quickly feeling your release build deep inside you. 

He completely ignores you, only focusing on the way your cunt tightens around him. You throw your head back with a scream as you gush around him, your release hitting you without a warning. Your body goes numb, you feel hot and cold all at once but you keep your hips moving because it just feels too good. Tony looks down at his chest that’s now covered with your juices. Collecting some on his fingers, he shoves them into your mouth. You moan as you taste yourself. 

Without a warning, he pushes you against the mattress and flips you over, putting your ass in the air while your face is pressed against the mattress. He’s quick to slam back into you, fucking you deeper and harder than before. You can feel the tip of his cock kissing your cervix. It’s unlike anything you’ve felt before. The bed creaks with the force of his movements. You gasp as you desperately try to fill your lungs with air. 

“It’s fuck t-too much.” You rush out, hoping he’ll slow down. 

“Does it hurt, princess?” He says in a patronizing tone. You quickly nod your head. “Well, too bad, you’re gonna take it until Daddy's finished.” 

You whine at his words, hot tears soaking the sheets as you press your face into the mattress. Your limbs give out on you as orgasm after orgasm wash over you, thighs covered in your slick, a thin layer of sweat makes your skin glow under the sunlight. 

Tony’s thrusts start to become sloppy, his groans and moans fill the room, letting you know he’s about to cum. You use whatever strength you have left to turn your head to look at him. 

“Please cum in me. Fill me up daddy.” That’s all it takes for Tony’s orgasm to take over. He pushes you into the mattress, a bruising grip on your hips as his hot seed coats your velvet walls. 

He collapse on top of you, his weight pressed against you feels so comforting, causing you to pass out before he has a chance to pull out. You wake up when he picks you up, walking towards the bathroom to clean you up. 

“Don’t worry, princess, I’ve got you.” 

Taglist: @ccbsrms @athenastark18 @aetherneto @hiddlechive @raajali3 @rookiemartin @strangeions @esposadomd 

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[skyloftian-nutcase]

Skyfall (LU in Healthcare Backstory)

So I was gonna write the whole chapter for this adventure - I had specifically created a Healthcare AU War Era story on AO3 to add this to it, but I get the feeling it's going to be a lot more involved lol. SO.

Have a piece from Healthcare AU War Era chapter in honor of Whumptober. :)

“Repeat, abort the mission, the zone is hot!”

Sky bit his tongue. Gunfire was everywhere, and he was very tempted to snap that it doesn’t make a damn bit of difference because I’m already getting shot at, but he kept his mouth shut. Instead, he opted for ignoring the voice entirely – he’d just report later that the radio traffic was unreadable.

Ever since his last chopper had been shot down, Sky had been simultaneously paranoid and nonchalant about flying into hot zones. On the one hand, he’d survived it before (barely, Sky, you barely survived, and it almost got other people killed), on the other hand, he was putting his crew’s life at risk (but what about the wounded who so desperately needed medevac? Their lives are in danger too). This time, though, he couldn’t really take the blame. He’d been the closest helicopter when the call for help had come, and command had said the LZ would be clear upon his arrival.

That was clearly not the case.

Sky would have to land hot and pray the medics could load the patients quickly enough. He wouldn’t put it past the enemy to fire on them again like last time.

“Get ready, we’re about to land,” Sky advised the medics in the back. Ever since he’d been given this new helicopter to fly, he’d been the sole pilot and essentially in charge of everything.

He missed Sun and Groose.

The ground beneath him was definitely not a safe landing zone. A lone soldier was holding her own against what was a veritable army of gunfire. Sky couldn’t see all the enemies, but he had a pretty good view.

Furrowing his brow, he lowered the chopper close enough to kick dirt and debris into the air. A mild vortex of dust and pieces of trees formed, sheltering the soldier and the wounded. If the enemy had a shred of decency in them, they wouldn’t fire on a medical helicopter.

But Sky already knew that wasn’t the case.

“Go!” he shouted behind him towards the fuselage where the medics were on standby.

He kept the helicopter just above the ground, hovering by a few inches so the medics could still load the patients, but revving the engine enough to keep the whirlwind going and decrease visibility. A console alarmed, and he glanced down, his heart racing, praying his aircraft wasn’t damaged too badly. His body jolted a little, his arm suddenly sore, and he grimaced, reaching towards the console to read the display.

Well, they were already trying to riddle holes in the helicopter, but at least they hadn’t hit anything vital yet.

The female voice from before came over the radio loudly, the sound of the helicopter roaring in the background. “I said the zone was hot!”

“Sorry, ma’am, situation changed before I had chance to turn back,” Sky said a little apologetically. He really wasn’t the biggest fan of breaking rules, but this hadn’t entirely been in his control anyway. Besides, what was the soldier going to do if he hadn’t shown up? He wouldn’t abandon anyone.

The soldier’s tone changed from frustrated to thankful and tremulous. She was scared. Whoever it was, she was so scared. “Thank you.”

Sky wanted to leap out of the helicopter right then and there and drag the soldier to safety. But he knew she wouldn’t board – his aircraft was headed for a hospital, and he didn’t know what her operation was. So long as she wasn’t injured, she wasn’t authorized aboard his loftwing.

His arm throbbed again, as did his heart and his head. Sky heard movement in the fuselage, and then one of his medics shouted, “We’re ready!”

“Godspeed,” he muttered under his breath, pulling the collective up and feeling the helicopter ascend into the sky.

It didn’t take long to leave the area and enter friendly territory. He heard very little noise from the fuselage, which usually wasn’t a good sign. Patients were often screaming or cussing or something, giving some kind of indicator that they were still alive. His medic crew scurried about, telling each other what supplies they needed, but admittedly military medics had very little to work with – tourniquets, painkillers, gauze, IVs and fluids, those were the main toys they could play with, and Sky knew by now that those weren’t always enough.

They reached the hospital within fifteen minutes, and Sky started contacting the helipad control to announce their arrival. His medics would have already reached out to give an incoming report and patient conditions. What little he’d heard hadn’t been promising.

One had already died en route.

Sky felt his limbs grow cold as he landed. His head bounced back against the head rest, his body utterly exhausted. Adrenaline still surged through him, making his heart race, but his mind was so, so numb.

What’s the point of any of this?

Looking to his left, Sky expected to see Sun sitting in the copilot seat trying to give him a reassuring smile. Instead, he just saw outside the window.

Warriors was out there.

Sky tried to smile, but his friend wasn’t looking anyway. He was busy taking bloodied bodies into the hospital alongside the others who had come out to meet them. Sighing, the pilot unfastened his harness and shakily made his way outside. He had to check the damage on the helicopter for himself.

When he took a few steps, Sky found his world swimming and swirling. Confused, he leaned against the interior, wondering why he was suddenly dizzy. He shook his head briefly and went outside.

Warriors lingered near the entrance to the hospital, watching the other patients get taken inside. Apparently they’d had more hands than necessary for this unloading. Again, Sky wanted to catch his eye and just get something, some kind of reassurance, some kind of reminder that there was actually good in this world and that someone cared about his well-being, and—

The world spun again. Sky stumbled, leaning against the tail. He took a shaky breath. Focus, Sky. You have a job to do. Others are depending on you.

But he’d been too late for these soldiers. He knew he’d been too late.

Sky blinked the tears away, turning his gaze towards his helicopter. He could already see some of the damage, bullet holes apparent. One was going through the windshield in the front… weird. He hadn’t registered a bullet entering the cockpit.

Then he heard Warriors’ voice.

“Sky…?”

The pilot turned. Warriors was watching him worriedly. Sky furrowed his brow. What was wrong?

“You okay?” Sky asked, taking a step and stumbling. Warriors immediately hastened forward, but Sky waved him off.

Except he saw blood on his hand when he did so.

Blood? Was… was that his?

Ah. That was probably why his arm hurt. Oh, and that would explain the bullet hole in the cockpit too.

His blood froze and he felt entirely too lightheaded as the realization sank in.

I’ve been shot.

“Oh,” he said softly, registering the thought, and then his legs gave out as his world went black.

[chericarlisle]

hi!! can i request some carlisle fluff? i’m thinking maybe helping taking care of you after a long day? or just anything cute and fluffy lol

𝐒𝐩𝐚 𝐃𝐚𝐲 || 𝐜.𝐜

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: carlisle cullen x human reader

(𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝)

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: this is a hc so it’s bound to be short :/

𝐚/𝐧: I CANNOT EXPLAIN HOW SORRY I AM TO YOU AND EVERYONE ELSE WHO HAS SENT IN A REQUEST. ITS BEEN FAR TOO LONG BUT IM SLOWLY TRYING TO RESPOND I HOPE YOU ALL FORGIVE ME <3

It had been an extremely long week for you.

One of the types that is just centuries long and just absolutely horrific.

For five days straight, you endured each gruesome day, coming home to your family feeling nothing but drained.

Even though you tried to mask the physical and mental fatigue with the relief of being home at last, your beloved Carlisle could see nothing but the truth.

He slowly was able to pry the words out of you as he wanted nothing more than to help.

It of course started with you two peacefully laying in bed while Carlisle’s hand rhythmically ran up and down your side persuading you to sleep.

However one thing led to the next and suddenly you were breaking down into tears, sobbing into Carlisle’s side.

That’s when he knew he needed to do something special for his darling.

The next morning as you were deep in much needed sleep, Carlisle sent Rosalie out to pick up a few things for him.

She returned in a prompt manner with all the basic and not so basic spa essentials.

The man full of nothing but compassion has decided to make this lazy Saturday into a spa day for you.

Carlisle worked diligently in the main bathroom to set up each little so-called spa station.

Just in time, you sleepily padded to the bathroom, barely even aware that Carlisle was missing from his spot in the bed.

Assuming that it was later in the morning you figured that he was in the kitchen and what not; yet you were thoroughly surprised to find him in the bathroom as well.

“Good morning, angel.” He held out his arms to embrace you in a warm hug, a kiss on the tip of your ear awakening you slightly.

“Carlisle, what’s all this?” Waving your pajama clad arm to motion at all the supplies set up, the man followed with his eyes to see what you were pointing at.

“Oh, all of that you mean?” A tiny smirk was on his lips… what was he up to now?

You nodded in answering his question.

“Simple. We are going to have a spa day!” Carlisle looked so giddy, you burst into a grin.

It was quite adorable how he had set up a spot to give you a pedicure by the large tub and another for a manicure on his side of the counters.

Carlisle led you to sit on the edge of the tub where hot water met your aching feet. (Yes, they were still hurting.)

It was almost as if Carlisle had done this before as he went through all the steps of a pedicure, leaving you in comfortable silence to relax as he did so.

If that wasn’t enough to make you feel like the luckiest person on earth, Carlisle then led you to sit on a comfortable stool as he now manicured your hands.

Just like with your achy feet, Carlisle carefully massaged the knots out of your hand.

These glorious hours passed by too fast as suddenly he was done with his handiwork.

“All done, darling!” He kissed your now softened hands, proudly showing you his painting skills as well. (He really did have those steady doctor hands.)

You readily complimented him and thanked him repeatedly, smothering his face in pecks to get the point across.

Carlisle just laughed it off, “It was no problem because you deserve nothing but the best.”

I NEED A SPA DAY WITH CARLISLE UGHH. also please excuse any mistakes! i didn’t proofread…

i hope you enjoyed! <3

[ayamturd]

cuddles│technoblade

summary: you want cuddles, but techno’s busy; laughs turn insecure, yet love overpowers it all

prompt: “Why won’t you let me love you?”

warnings: none, only fluff

pairing: in-game c!technoblade

a/n: this is my entry for @mayasimagines​‘ 600 writing event!! huge props and congratulatory once more, they’re such a talented and creative writer (pls go give them love!)

i was really tempted to make it angst, i won’t lie lol (also techno visual based off SAD-ist design cause pretty pig make yam go brrrr)

wc: (1.4k) - m.list

“Techno.”

Tilting his head to glance behind him, Technoblade’s ear twitched once spotting you. You were dressed comfortable from the cold weather despite the roaring fire besides him. Holding a pillow you carried from bed, you rested your chin above it while clutching the soft fabric close.

He turned back to his work before addressing you, mixing the most recent ingredients he gathered the same day in a small brewing pot. The potion glistened in the dark of the night, the concoction dyed a subtle grey as it was unfinished. 

“What?”

You padded closer to him, and with him sat low at the work bench, you leaned onto him from behind, resting against his back while laying on his shoulder. He barely moved from your current position on him. 

“Cuddle.” He gave a small noise to indicate that he heard you, but continued to stir his potion. Being the patient person you were, you waited until the color slowly shifted its hue as a sign it was finished. Setting the spoon aside, Techno grabbed the nearest rag and began cleaning his hand. 

“I’m busy,” he murmured, still distracted as he looked back to his current elixir on the stand. You frowned from his words, and as if he could sense it, he tried to reassure you. “But I’ll try for later if I can.” 

That wasn’t good enough, you thought. With the pillow trapped between the two of you, you moved your arms around him and held his torso, hooking your hands together to secure him. 

“But… cuddles?” 

In spite of your attempts, Techno disregarded the small and childlike tone you used. You started to pout from his lack of response and narrowed your eyes in annoyance. Moments passed without an answer, and you lifted your head back up the stairs while still settled close to his neck, the idea of going to bed alone making you discourage to make the trek back. 

With a slight sigh, you let go of him completely and hugged the pillow again, gathering yourself before heading towards the fireplace. Picking up the disregarded throw blanket on the armchair, you dropped the pillow close to the fire and plopped yourself on it, crossing your legs while wrapping the blanket around you comfortably. 

The warmth from the fire would have to do in place of Technoblade’s body heat, and with your backed turned towards it, you leaned onto your placed palms to observe him.

After a few minutes, Techno couldn’t ignore your staring any longer, sighing and turning towards you. He had his hand against his knee with the other rested on his table, twisting his body.

“What are you doin’?”

Slightly smirking from his question, you took his appearance, it being the first time you could fully saw him with his attention on you for the first time that day. His hair was disheveled, yet fluffy as it encompassed his face, like a halo to emphasize his handsome features. 

Though white and sometimes argued empty, you loved staring into his eyes. They always expressed more than what he was willing to voice, and although they currently were squinted from confusion, they were filled with a charm most wouldn’t see from him. 

You looked him up and down, noting his casual wear and the way he rolled his sleeves up, before concentrating on his face again.

“I wanna be near you, you’ve been busy all day.” 

He chuckled lightly, shaking his head and shifting his body completely to face you, resting his elbows on both his knees and tilting his head down at you. 

“You sure are bein’ clingy, huh?” Your dazed grin dropped immediately from his teasing, and the action made Techno laugh loudly, it devolving to his classic snickering.

Reaching behind you, you snatched the chair cushion and chucked it his way. Technoblade obviously caught the aimed projectile mid throw but was weak to his current laughing fit. 

You pushed yourself promptly off the ground, and with a roll of your eyes, began walking away. Techno reached out to grab you, his laugh fading with a big smile.

“Wait, wait-” You stepped back before his hand could nab you, and crossed your arms at him.

“No, leave me alone. You’re being mean.” 

He chuckled, and stood up, his height in full as he towered over you. Shrieking from his playful glare, he bounded for you while you tried to run. You were quickly caught and yelled loudly once picked up off the ground. 

With his hands on your waist, he spun you fast, laughing with you and pulling you close to him. His breath tickled your neck while his tusks rubbed gently against your hair. He continued to spin you relentlessly, your feet pathetically dangling helplessly below. 

Eventually you grew tired and dizzy from the notion, shouting out in giggles for him to stop. He paused from your protests, and without warning, threw you up in the air.

You gasped from the unexpected action, voice caught in your throat from the sudden motion and the fear that gripped you. Before you knew what was happening, you were back in his arms, instead held bridal style within his arms. 

Gripping onto his dress shirt and with wide eyes, you looked up at his proud grin. What a show off. 

You smacked him, though not hard, and he laughed again. Wrapping your arms his neck, you laughed with him, smothering yourself into his chest and breathing in his scent. You really did miss him today, and with his hands holding you, you melted from the close contact. 

While your laughing waned, his did not. You stared up at him like before, watching how beautiful he was in the dim lighting against the crackling fire and the open starry darkness of the night in contrast. You adored him for his openness with you, you loved him for being him around you. 

Tenderly, you put a hand on his cheek, turning his focus onto you. You lifted yourself up in his arms, and ever so slowly, leaned up to kiss him. Before you could, however, he turned his head away, the action small yet noticeable to your acute senses and knowing eyes. 

You pouted lightheartedly, hanging your head back dramatically as a joke. 

“Why won’t you let me love you?”

Techno became silent, swallowing a harsh inhale from the innocent and obviously meaningless tease. Despite the previous laughs, the room’s atmosphere changed, a now empty and tense space. 

Your feigned heartbreak-act softened, though the frown remained in place. You knew what he was doing; he was going too deep in thought and over analyzing, letting the voices reign control over insecurities and fear. No matter how strong or vicious he may seem to others, you knew him and that essentially, he was a man who was too anxious and too doubtful of himself for his own good. 

With a comforting smile, you called his name, bringing him back after briefly falling into the void. 

“Hey love?”

Blinking repeatedly to regain control, Techno snapped his head at you, your voice calm and firm in spite all that he was forced to hear. He hummed as to answer, and you cupped his cheeks before he could escape your attempted kiss again. 

He was still for a few seconds, before becoming undone and lifting you closer towards his lips, fingers curling tightly on you as to express the uproar of emotions he held for you. 

You pulled yourself up, hand reaching into his hair while the other remained kindly to his light stubble. Techno supported you further by shifting you, his arm now against your back that cradled you into a sitting position. 

The kiss was tender and passionate, yet more gentle than one would assume. All you could feel was him and him alone, nothing breaking the pure moment of bliss and true pleasure between the two of you. 

You pulled away suddenly, while fast, but to express anything left unsaid between your shared acts. 

“Love you,” you whispered, still out of breath from the loss of air. Techno couldn’t help the adoring gaze he showed for you, his own voice bright from the high of your taste. He met your forehead halfway, and closed his eyes while speaking so closely to you. 

“Heh, and I you, darlin’.”

“Cuddles now?”

Techno nodded, using his hands to carry your thighs as they moved to wrap around his torso instead. He walked you both towards the stairway to your bedroom, his hold on you never faltering against him. 

“Yeah, cuddles now.”

[emmaem111]

*Double Life spoilers*

Okay so, I just finished watching the Double Life series (from Grian’s POV,) and I binged what was essentially the entire thing in one sitting because I took a break from watching Grian cause I was busy watching Better Call Saul and couldn’t handle too much excitement coming from multiple directions

And Jesus. Christ. I seriously gotta just dump all my emotions somewhere, cause I have no one I talk to who shares my interests so why not here? I don’t even normally do this lol, I usually just post my art with a small rant and that’s that. Doesn’t even matter if no one looks at this, I just need to vent somewhere and it’s 3 AM omg

How is it that there were so many parallels and foreshadowing in an unscripted series from one person’s POV alone??? Like that’s actually insane.

Like Grian dropping that stalagmite on Scar in episode 1 to show him they were soulmates? Then he proceeds to accidentally, indirectly kill his secret soulmate using a perfectly timed stalagmite???? Which that was such a cool kill btw like wow my heart could barely handle it

Then Grian telling Scar off for going into the Deep Dark saying it was “off limits” to him. And Grian proceeds to get himself, and by default Scar, killed in the Deep Dark????? Like the irony.

Not to mention the fact that the reason why Grian was killed was because he couldn’t get away in time thanks to those horrid two block high stairs. Like the same kind of stairs he originally made leading to the Deep Dark and defended saying he didn’t have the time to waste the session making the staircase better, so that whole death’s a double whammy

And I also read in a comment—although I didn’t watch Ren, BigB or Pearl’s POVs—that Pearl warned Ren and BigB about not walking into people’s bases and then they proceeded to get killed by the stalagmite in their own base.

And I’m sure I probably missed some stuff but my mind was just so all over the place that I probably forgot it or couldn’t connect dots—mostly due to the insanity that was episode 5—but I really just had to spill my thoughts somewhere.

Also Scar’s water bucket clutch was literally such a cool moment, him and Grian are definitely an S-tier duo.

God and then there’s the whole thing with how every Third Life season Grian’s destined to lose the one he loves and cares about (especially to his own hands) and Jimmy’s destined to be the first to lose his final life, canary in a coal mine and all that

This whole thing really makes me wanna do some art on it, even though I’m lazy lmao

I lowkey wanna learn how to animate and gain the energy to do so just so I can be able animate some of those moments from Double Life, and maybe the third life series as a whole. At the very least I’ve gotta gain the motivation to do some fanart of it all

Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ve gotta catch up on Hermitcraft content now. Thank god I did Double Life first, cause I’ve really gotta calm down lol

[gojology]

Intense Healing Session.

the request :

pairing : caring! healer! fem! reader x gojo satoru hehhehe warnings : cursing, implications of seggs after sum intense kissing, pet names wordcount : 2.0k a/n : yoyo i’m back!! semi-long one for u all. cute request, anon. sorry for late delivery. pls dont rate me a 1/5 on yelp </3 hehe the title is kinda funny LOL

     You’re beginning to hate Satoru.        Surprisingly, it’s not for the reasons people dislike him- he’s a bit of a blabbermouth, never quite learned how to seal his lips just because of how important he was to the jujutsu world. Unsurprisingly, he gets away with everything because he’s attractive and crucial to defeating curses, and there’s no shame in admitting it.       People hate Satoru for his destructive personality, he’s carefree and doesn’t let anything get to him. This may be a good trait for the untrained eye, but look carefully and you’ll see just how hectic he gets. It’s manageable since you don’t have to deal with him at the level of the Jujutsu elders.       You don’t particularly hate him for this, though.       It’s the fact he puts you through so much work, for almost no reason. You’re a healer- something very important to the quaint school that you worked at. Healing abilities are often overlooked, it’s often said that if a jujutsu sorcerer can’t provide offense, then they’re not much of a jujutsu sorcerer. Unfortunately, you have little to no talent in the battlefield, so essentially you’re a meat shield to everyone.      It was a growing occurrence to see him after every business trip, slightly roughed up but not enough to kill him. He comes into the room you share alongside Shoko, almost always when she’s not there, takes his shirt off, and displays a wide variety of cuts and bruises on his back like he’s a museum. You’d scold him, asking him how he’d get such abrasions with his infinity up constantly- but Satoru would hum, unanswering while you’re working your hands on his back.      Maybe you’re overreacting- but something tells you he does this on purpose, perhaps to fuck with you, and you’re bitter about it.     So it wasn’t surprising to see him whistle a sweet tune, hands shoved deep into his uniform pockets, casually strolling into the medical attention room for the fifth time this month.    “Gojo Satoru.” you say his full name aloud, just so he knows how much you hate his presence. Turning to look at you, his face displays innocent shock, but you just know that he’s probably rolling around in the inside seeing how riled up you got just by him stepping into the room.     Drained, lifeless eyes stare back at his childish bright ones.     Gojo places a hand on his chest defensively, “Well, I’ll be, Y/N. When did you want to disrespect your senior?” he snickers before shutting the door behind him. “You mad?”      “Unbearably. Lucky I care for you.” you utter back, venom dripping in your words, you feel like you’re making a fool of yourself as you shove your lunch aside that you had been enjoying on the tiny table next to you, sighing and rubbing your temples, tugging and effectively straightening your coat. “Get on the bed, let me work my magic.”     Looking at you with a shit-eating grin, he whistles, placing his elbows against the mattress, his roughened hands caressing his cheeks. “Working your magic? I’m interested. Tell me more, Y/N. Does this involve... Getting naked, perhaps?”     Staggering, you give him a dirty glare, “Satoru! I’ve been working my ass off like every week to get you all healed up, and you dare be perverted in my-”     “No cursing, lil girl! You wouldn’t want this rubbing off on Yuuji-kun and everyone else, would you? You’d be charged with a felony!” leaving you stunned for a second time- the first time being when his lanky figure strode into the room like it was his room- you don’t even know how to respond. How could one possibly be so... Ungrateful for your work?  Well, then again the elders existed... That was besides the point, though. You’re not even sure if Yuuji knows what the word fuck or shit is.     He drags his finger lazily along the cot, drawing various shapes into existence, giving you a skeptical look. “Not gonna answer? Stumped?”     He broke through your train of thought, and you shake your head. “Satoru, I don’t know any sort of fighting jujutsu, but I will fucking pulverize you and make sure you’ll be dust by the time I’m done with y-”     Butting in, he raises his hand as a way to shut you up. “Honeybun, you’re an amazing jujutsu sorcerer, but I hope you realize why they call me the strongest of all time. If you haven’t noticed, it’s because I have a constant shield. The closest you can get to doing that is maybe poking me.”     Giving him a snooty face, you’re frankly about to push him out of the room with sheer willpower and hatred alone. It seems he realizes this, a moment of adoration flickering across his eyes before finally neutralizing. “Alright, alright, I’ll stop playing with you. You’re so cute when I do though, like a little... Rabid raccoon! How can I not resist?”     It’s difficult to tell if that’s a compliment or an insult, with Satoru, it could be several things. But, you’re still slightly flattered, knowing him he’d go out of his way to lengthen his insult if it was one- just another reason why you hated him. Being called a rabid raccoon was definitely not on Satoru’s top 10 utterly offensive insults.       “Shut up, Satoru. Here, take off your shirt, what did you get yourself into this time?”       He obliges with a nasty grin on his handsome features, hastily yanking off his uniform. Underneath was a very meticulously trained body, toned muscles and all. You can’t help but to also catch a glimpse of his collarbones, which were so defined it looked like it could cut your butter for your morning pancakes. You gulp, blinking, you had forgotten just how well-shaped he was in the one week you hadn’t seen him.       “No need to stare, sweetums.” he chirps, realizing your darkening cheeks. “Feed my ego any more and I’ll probably burst and my organs will decorate your walls. You can donate my body to the local college, they’ll be surprised by how top-notch they are.”       Giving him another stern, but much more sheepish gaze, he snaps his mouth shut, but a triumphant smile replaced his grin in place.      “Please, no gruesome detailing. I’d much rather my cute kitten posters.” you motion to a white cat slumbering peacefully in a basket.      “Looks just like you.” he says.      You close your eyes and pretend he’s not there, choosing to ignore yet another one of his compliments, but your heart thumps faster in your heaving chest. Heaven knows how curious your hands could get if you could see where you were touching-      “Those are my abs, Y/N. I think we’re focusing on my back.” he muses aloud in an almost teasing tone. You can already imagine how obnoxious his face is, opening your eyes hesitantly, blinking to adjust to the bright room lights. Your hands are still hovering above his abs, his gaze is upon yours, looking at you with a mix of speculation and speechlessness. Instead of his unusual smug smirk, there’s an almost coy expression on his features, which shocked you.        “How’d your hands get there? Last time I checked, abs are at the front, not the back, hmmm?”        You grit your teeth, your face flush with warmth at your sudden realization. There was no cheeky retort you could’ve possibly come up with, after all, he was right, how did your hands wander to his abs? You weren’t thinking of doing it. You weren’t interested in him either, but he was attractive. Of course you’d be too curious for your own good.. Yes, that was it..       “Your hands are still on an inappropriate place, Y/N. Except, a lil lower than last time.” he chuckles wholesomely as you jerk up, straightening yourself and clearly sweating, your arm wiping your brow and exhaling a drawn-out and awfully dramatic sigh.       “Give me a break, Satoru. I just, um, you know... Zone out.” your pitch was unconvincing, high-pitched and wavering, bringing your chances of believability to a low.      “So, this is like, the 375th time since you’ve zoned out, lil girl.” he tsks, “You’ve gotta sound convincing if you wanna fuckin lie, you know.”      “I--” you falter, now clearly a shade darker than you were just 5 minutes ago. Your heart beating so rapidly it was almost like you were running a marathon. Why was your pulse so quick? Why was everything in the room a blur besides him? Why couldn’t you focus on healing him? What was he doing to you?      “You haven’t even begun the healing process.” he murmurs, his large hands caressing your arm that was by your side. “Anything you want to tell me, pumpkin? I’m on a tight ass schedule, but I’ll let Ijichi solve that. Spit it out.”       His voice rang out high and clear amongst the hectic fight that was going inside your head, steadying your thoughts. A few moments pass by, studying him, lips moving but no words coming out. Why was it so difficult to say through the insults, you cared for him, and wanted him to be more careful? Was it because of the monster inside of you, who wanted him to get hurt, to spend his time with you, listen to his horrible compliments and giggle at the jokes he made as you worked at a snail’s pace on his back, that weren’t even funny, but was funny because of his presence in the dead room, his boyish laugh very much needed in such days of flatness?      “Satoru..” you finally muster out, his eyes flickering on you once more as he was studying the kitten poster with much boredom. “I just.. Care for you.”      “Huh.” is all he says, face falling and examining the spotless floor. “Is that all?”      Acknowledging his body language, you huff, suddenly filled with the need to defend yourself. “What else did you want me to say? I just feel like you’ve gotten yourself hurt a lot more recently and... I just, want you to be more careful. That’s all.”     “No.” he was barely audible, so you had to lean down to hear him. “No, that’s not it at all. You’re hiding something. Do you prefer me to say it?”     Puzzled, you peer at him with childlike curiosity gleaming in your eyes. What did he know about you that you didn’t? Surely, you knew all about yourself?    “You’re not that fucking dumb, are you?”     “Huh?-” you begin to speak, clearly offended, but you’re stopped.     By none other than his lips.      They’re soft, pillow-like even. A familiar warmth floods inside of you at the sudden physical contact from Satoru, except it’s amplified by 10 times. A moan slips out of your mouth, his hand against your back so suddenly you could’ve sworn it wasn’t there just a millisecond ago. His lips were mashing against yours, as if he wanted to have done this a long time ago. You hungrily push back, teasing your mouth with his tongue that slipped just barely into your mouth before indulging in you, which you thought wouldn’t had ever happened prior to this.      You grip the back of his head firmly, as if he were to escape, other hand tangled in his snow white tufts of hair. Eyelashes fluttering, heavy breathes fanning out both of your noses, your lips were sure to be swollen after this. Your tongues dueling each other, working your mouth against his. His unoccupied hands start to play with the hem of your shirt, and another moan slips out of your mouth, anxious to have progressed so far to the removal of clothing, but at this point, you’re ready for anything.    ‧₊˚✩彡.       “I don’t think Gojo-Senpai and Y/N-Senpai are just in an intense healing session.” breathed Yuuji with a terrified look in his eyes, clutching his arm that was bloodied up, his head leaned close to the firmly shut door.        Nobara looked like she was about to faint, looking at the door as if it was a several feet tall monstrosity of a curse.        “What? What are they doing in there?” Megumi knelt down to where Yuuji was, pushing his ear against the door, and immediately his eyes shot open, a traumatized look in his fearful eyes.        “What the fuck.”