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themusingsofacurlyhairednerd · 7 days ago

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Ludos Imperiales

Summary: A Princess!Reader x Gladiator!Bat Boys fic that's been swimming around in my head for weeks after watching Gladiator I and II

Content Warnings: Blood and Gore, Mentions of Torture, Slavery, and Assault

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“So good of you to finally join us, cousin.” The din of the crowd nearly drowns out the words, the feverish cheers echoing off the massive stone pillars that hold the auditorium seats up and away from the stench of death and decay that permeates from the mud soaked pit beneath the plush outdoor auditorium. There are rows of decadent booths along the pit's edge, each box set with plush chases and golden edged pillows. Slaves with palm fronds fan ornately dressed royals, their faces obscured by gold lined veils. The auditorium oozes wealth and luxury, offers decadent food and drink and deep enough betting pools to make the strictest penny pinchers among the elite crawl out of their caves to try their luck.

The altar for the Mother gleams golden in the afternoon sunlight, the carved statue standing with arms and feathered wings outstretched in welcome. Beckoning those to come and offer a bit of blood in hopes of trading it for some luck. Luck for the gamblers, of course, never the males, and sometimes females, who fight and die in the muddy pit far beneath the first row of booths. My father says they made the Games to punish our enemies, and to reward our soldiers, but both fight and die as equals all the same.

I frown first at the statue, how could our most beloved Goddess reward this kind of brutality? Then at my cousin, who I remember, is still waiting for me to speak. Dagdan sports his military regalia, the glittering medals across his chest all pinned there by my father for his service to our great empire. Service he never actually participated in. Dagdan can wield a sword because of the patience of his tutors, he’s never raised it in battle, despite the stories he tells at every possible turn.

“Father said the Games would be impressive this year,” I reply, trying to keep the bite out of my tone. Mother raised me to be demure, to keep my chin up, to never let an enemy see what I was feeling. She had been good at that, too good, perhaps that was why she had been publicly executed. For all her poise, she had not been able to outmatch my Father’s paranoia.

Beside him, Dagdan’s twin sister Brannagh grins, her pearly white teeth a harsh contrast to her otherwise impassive face. It’s like watching a shark try to grin. “The Uprising in the Courts made for a lot of candidates this year.”

My stomach turns. The Empire is vast, spreading across continents and oceans. The Courts in Prythian were the last of the fae to fall in line before Father turned his attention to the Human Lands. Each year, more and more slaves and captives are carted in through the iron gates far beneath the smooth stones we stand on, all tossed into the mud to fight each other for a slim possibility of survival. Some come willingly, chasing fortune and gold; some are sponsors of Father’s Inner Circle, their armor always pristine, their weapons always sharp. But most of the gladiators are slaves, crammed into dingy cells in the catacombs beneath the arena. Despite the decadence of the auditorium, one visit down into the bowels of this awful place was enough to scar me for life. As Father intended, I’m sure. Our esteemed Emperor had not been shy about his disdain for not being able to produce a son and his paranoia often convinced him that I would one day find a husband crafty enough to steal his Throne before he found a match he thought suitable, he often dragged me to these things to remind me the brutality he was capable of if I stepped out of line. No doubt it was why he’d insisted I come out today. I had not been out in public in some time, not after the grief of losing my mother had so thoroughly consumed me. My grief had shamed him; had made some in his Inner Circle suspect I was also plotting against him. My presence here was as much a check into my loyalties as it was to remind me of what fate could befall me if I kept on wallowing away in the dark.

I smooth my hands over my skirts, putting thoughts of my Mother aside. It always feels like a gaping wound in my chest, nerve and sinew exposed and open for every onlooker to see. I must reign it in. For the sake of my future.

“We’ll see a lot of Fae, then?” There were a lot of elves last year and shifters the year before that. There is no prejudice in the games. Race and gender matter little in a battle of survival.

The twins follow me as I find my way through the bustling crowd to our booth, where I know Father will already be waiting.

“Some humans for the first round,” Dagdan spits like he’s tasted something vile.

“Some half-breeds and mutts for the second,” Brannagh finishes with far more delight than her brother. Their eagerness from blood is one of the few reasons Father didn’t name their heir in my place. Brutality is necessary, but bloodlust turns a well rounded Empire on its head. Father placates them by giving them titles, parading them around like their important so they remain loyal, but he will never truly give them the power they seek. They’re simply not smart enough to see it.

“But the final round will be entertaining,” Dagdan says, gray eyes twinkling as the wall of guards at attention in Father’s booth part for us.

Our esteemed emperor sits on a throne made entirely of gold, a goblet of wine already in his hands. A circlet of gold leaf perches on top of his salt and pepper hair, the sharp edges reflecting the light along the crimson curtains that help keep out the summer heat. We all bow to him as we enter, and Father reaches out a hand for mine without ever looking at us.

“It is good to see you outside again, daughter,” he says, chapped lips brushing over my knuckles in a brief display of affection.

“I’m sorry it has been so long, Father,” I keep my voice even, unbothered. I will not let any of them see how much I hate all of this.

He guides me to sit on the couch beside the throne, where I have ample view of the uneven floor below. Yesterday’s rain has filled the giant pit with mud. Mud that could have easily been covered and smoothed out to make the playing field fair for all, but that is not how these Games work. Bones still litter the uneven ground, a rib cage protruding from a mound of dirt, a crumbling arrow still caught inside it. There’s the skull of an animal turned upside down, a stream of muddy water running out the eye sockets like some sort of twisted water fountain. Old weapons lay scattered around the arena floor; a wagon weaves around boulders and mounds of loose earth to scatter more.

“I trust you’re feeling better?” The question is pointed, for the sake of my cousins. He has been telling people the shock of my Mother’s supposed betrayal had been too much on my health and I’d been bed ridden. It’s not entirely far from the truth.

“Yes, Father. The sunlight does me good.” Not far from the truth either. It is nice to be away from the palace and all the chaos that comes with it.

Brannagh sits beside me, a slave scurrying behind her with a fan, a second not far behind with some wine. She stretches her long legs out in front of her with a sigh, the sunlight drifting through the curtains making her pale skin look translucent. “Do you have a favorite to win today, Uncle?”

My Father sips from his goblet, a bit of wine caught in his graying beard. “Just a favorite to lose,” he chuckles. Though he is getting older, the gleam in his slate gray eyes is still sharp and youthful. Even with his bouts of paranoia, his mind is still sharp and calculating.

“Do tell, before it’s too late for me to change my bets,” Dagdan quips. Though I doubt it is all in jest, my cousin is far more in debt than he realizes.

Horns blare from the upper rings of the arena, signalling those still milling about placing bets and finding food to get to their seats. The Games will start soon. My stomach twists itself into a new knot. There is no shortage of ways my Father will have found to torment the poor souls who find themselves in the pit today, I am not eager to see what they are.

“There was some… trouble in the mountain regions of the Courts,” he says carefully.

I force myself not to turn and look at him. Trouble for my father usually means rebellion, or outright war, anything else is too insignificant to mention. In my seclusion, I had not even caught wind of it.

“We have a few insurrectionists I’d like to see fall today.”

Few are foolish enough to raise a hand against the Empire. It usually means their provinces go without food and aid in the harsher months of the year. I am curious to see who would be foolish enough to risk the lives of their people.

“Those great wings of theirs would make an excellent trophy on my wall,” Father finishes.

A shiver runs down my spine. It would not be the first gruesome trophy of his, but still, the outright admittance to such cruelty still makes me tremble. My unease is only heightened by the arrival of my Father’s General, who enters the booth followed by a handful of male slaves, all barely dressed.

“Amarantha!” It is no secret that my Father has always wished I shared the temperament and constitution of his beloved General. If he had to be cursed with a female for an heir, he wanted ruthlessness, cunning, and a smile that could peel paint. All things the red headed fae oozed in abundance.

All things my Father was convinced I lacked. I’d take it. His disdain was better than being exactly like her. I can’t help the way my nose crinkles at the sight of her. Brannagh moves closer to the edge of the couch, in hopes of ending up in her line of vision, eager to swap stories before the Games officially start. Brannagh wants to be just like her, the gaggle of pleasure slaves included. The two of them would unleash hell on the world if my Father ever put the two of them together.

“Your Highness,” Amarantha bows, the loose fabric of her nearly sheer gown spilling to give my Father ample view of her cleavage. I stopped allowing myself to question the nature of their relationship long ago; my stomach turns thinking about it.

“It is a good day for betting, don’t you think?” She asks. Her voice is like gravel, fitting since its the color of her eyes. A finger bone dangles from her neck, an eye encased in glass sitting atop her finger; though she is lean, she is stronger and more deadly than most people assume at first glance. Everything about her is dangerously sharp.

“I was just telling Dagdan the same thing,” my Father says.

Those dark eyes flick briefly to my cousin, who puffs up his chest, but she ignores him entirely as her gaze settles on me. “Princess! I didn’t know you’d be joining us today. What a monumental occasion!”

“I thought the fresh air would do me some good,” I say simply. What else is there to say to Evil Incarnate? Perhaps I should put more energy into being clever, I know that if Amarantha saw a benefit to cleaving my head from my shoulders, she’d take it--power is all she cares about, so far we haven’t faced each other because she doesn’t think I have enough to steal--but I cannot summon the energy. Ever since the incident with my Mother, I have not managed to find much in me at all. Especially not for Amarantha and her social climbing.

“Nothing like a little blood sport to invigorate the mind,” she purrs as she lowers herself into the seat at my Father’s right hand. One of her slaves perches on the arm of her chair, bare chest glinting with oils in the harsh sunlight. Another sits at her feet, and her nails, sharpened to points, drift harshly through his thick curls.

I watch my cousin run her tongue over her lips at the sight.

“Did you place any bets, Princess?” Amarantha continues as someone brings her a goblet of wine. She sniffs suspiciously at it before instructing one of her slaves to test it first. Perhaps poison would be a mercy.

Never admit weakness. Never admit that my solitude has kept me out of the loop and left me ill prepared for whatever is about to happen in the Pit beneath us. Instead, I say, “We have several days of entertainment, I prefer to observe on the first day.”

To his credit, my Father does reach over and pat my shoulder in approval.

“Clever,” she says, but there’s enough bite in it to not make it a compliment.

“My money is on your Attor, as always, General,” Brannagh says with the eagerness of a child with a crush.

Amarantha huffs in annoyance, as if my cousin is a fly buzzing around her ear, “He’s too good, its almost boring at this point.”

Brannagh deflates, but before she can come up with something witty in response, the final warning horn blows from the rafters. The Games will begin.

I turn my attention away from my company, watching brightly dressed royals rush to their booths. There are all sorts of creatures here to watch: Elves and Fae and Fawn, a few Goblins and Giants, observing from a standing platform opposite us. There is room for most, save for humans, within the Empire, as long as they prove their usefulness. That is my Father’s crowning achievement, the Hybern Empire has room for all, if you play your cards right and never step out of line.

The groaning of the gates draws my attention away from the spectators and down into the Pit beneath us, where a whole cart of humans appears from the gloom of one of the entrances. They look small; mud and blood splattered as several Praetorian guards usher them out of the cart with spears bigger than most of their heads. The guards do not remove their shackles, leaving all twelve of them tethered together in the center of the Pit.

The cart rolls away, the guards with it, only once their out does another gate open to let out the challenger: Amarantha’s hulking Attor. The creature is battle scarred, lines criss-crossing over its leathery skin. Its giant wings flutter on the breeze behind it as it stalks into the center, Amarantha’s crest painted in blood red over its chest.

The crowd goes wild as it enters the pit, clawed hands swinging wildly around its hulking body. “ATTOR! ATTOR! ATTOR!” The monster has always been the crowd favorite.

Amarantha yawns. She’ll make thousands off the creature, but that is nothing to her. Money is trivial, unless it can buy her the power she craves.

I glance at my Father as the Games Maker starts addressing the crowd and explaining the match up. “Would it not be more entertaining to unchain them?” They’re all going to die anyway, surely this gives them a fighting chance to die with some honor. “We all know the Attor will win, why make it easy for it?”

Amarantha nearly spits out her wine, a gurgling sound coming out of her as she tries to maintain her composure.

I do not let myself grin at the victory.

Father runs a hand over his graying beard in thought. “Perhaps your solitude did you some good, Daughter.”

I do not shutter. I cannot save any of them, as pitiful and helpless as they look alongside the Attor. It will give them all gruesome deaths purely for the fun of it. But perhaps the Mother will take pity; may the chance to die fighting grant them peace in the afterlife.

Father stands and motions for the Game Maker to quiet. “Let the humans be unchained!”

The crowd erupts into varying shouts of surprise and approval.

“Let us test the skill of the Attor!”

This pleases the crowd, but it makes Amarantha’s cheeks flush crimson. She hides a grimace behind her wine as my Father returns to his seat.

A single guard returns with keys, and the crowd falls into a hushed silence, waiting for chaos to ensue. I force myself not to look away; to face what I have done. One of the humans cranes its head to look up at our box and flashes us his middle finger.

Dagdan bristles in his seat next to his sister. “He should pay for that!”

They will. There will be no rescue. There is none to be found. The Empire comes for all of us eventually, best that we can do is go into it with our heads up. I am trying to accept my fate in this, what other choice do I have, lest I end up dead or locked away.

Once the guard is clear, the horns once again blow, telling the Attor he can start his hunt. Those great wings at his back kick up loose dirt as he launches into the air with a roar that makes the arena tremble.

The crowd cheers, leaning forward in their seats to watch as the monster swoops down and gets its great jaws around the head of the first human. Brannagh giggles at the splatter of blood that erupts from the poor creature’s neck.

I clench my hands in my lap.

The second human tries to run, scrambling for purchase in the thick mud. It doesn’t help that they’re all barefoot. The Attor’s claws tear through the human’s back like butter, the poor thing going down with a wail that makes my heart lurch painfully in my chest.

The third manages to find a sword, the blade rusted from the rain; the man gets a good swipe in, nicking the inside of the Attor’s palm before it gets shredded to pieces.

Each human tries a little harder than the last, getting further each time. One manages to weave around the debris and avoid being swooped down on like the first, but the uneven terrain catches her ankle, sending her sprawling down with a shout as her leg is left twisted and broken. Another manages to get an arrow into the Attor’s back, but not deep enough to do damage. They all go down fighting, and each new one has me saying a mental prayer to the Mother on their behalf, but none survive. Much to the crowd’s glee.

“Wonderful!” Brannagh says, clapping as the Attor roars in victory.

Amarantha shrugs. “Boring.”

The Attor exits the Pit, ever the victor. The bodies it left aren’t even carted away. No one comes to pick up the pieces. No one will bury them. Their bones will rot and decay into the Pit floor.

I ask one of my Father’s servants for some wine to try and settle the nausea that rolls in my stomach, but even the smoothest of wine does not dull it.

My Father watches me carefully, calculating every move. I do my best to keep my features neutral.

“What did you think, Daughter?”

I take another sip of wine before speaking, giving myself time to collect my thoughts. “Humans don’t make very good gladiators.”

He laughs at that and my cousins join in, as if it was the funniest thing ever.

“Humans don’t make good anything,” Dagdan says.

“Except for a snack,” Brannagh adds.

“Worms,” Amarantha spits.

Father raises his cup in salute to me. “May the next match be more exciting for you.”

I ignore my revulsion and return the gesture. I cannot wait for this to be over. I shall retire back into my gloomy quarters with the curtains drawn and try to scrub the gory images from my brain. Perhaps my solitude would be more comforting than this.

The horns blow announcing the next match and the Games Maker drones on and on about where these next gladiators hail from. One side are all sponsored by royal families, all males trying to make a name for themselves and some coin to feed their families. They’re all well trained and well equipped for the task. They’re a filler spot, to give the rest of the Game Makers time to prepare the next victims of the Empire’s wrath. Beneath the Pit floor, in the dark of the catacombs, the next round of war captives are likely being hauled out of their cells and prepped. I can’t help but wonder if they can hear the roaring of the Bogges and Gladiator’s alike from down there. Do they understand what is about to happen? Are they saying their final prayers to the Mother?

I can’t help but glance at Her altar. What kind of world is this that we live in? Brutal and cruel and blood splattered. If we are so favored, how could our lives look like this? It is thoughts like these that have kept me sequestered in my room. I do not know what I am supposed to live for, or who I am supposed to be any more. My life feels like it is stretching out before me, and someone else is pulling on the strings, making me a puppet that moves at their will. I no longer have the protection of my Mother. Father will soon throw me to the wolves if I am not smart or careful or cunning. The world is different and dark and I have utterly lost my way.

I am so wrapped up in my thoughts I barely register the fight. One of the males gets eaten by the terrifying Bogge, his screams echoing off the great walls. The crowd eats it up, cheering and screaming and jumping from their seats. The more blood that flows the louder they yell and cheer. These are my people? These are who I am to rule one day? What does that make me?

Dagdan huffs about his losses as the gladiators exit the arena, the Bogge all dead. He drowns his sorrows in his cup as if the solution to his terrible gambling habit might lie in the bottom.

“Finally, now we can get to the part I’ve been waiting for!” Amarantha declares.

Father grins. “I take it they gave you trouble on the way here?”

She spits again, a nasty habit that doesn’t bother anybody but me, apparently. “Damned Illyrians! Had to use faebane on them the whole way, otherwise they tore through the damn chains!”

Father shakes his head. “I have to admit they surprised me-” certainly a feat few have ever accomplished in his lifetime “-usually their kind throw themselves on their swords before they get caught. Makes you think, doesn’t it?”

I’ll chalk that up to his paranoia talking, but I have to admit, I am intrigued by the conversation. Anyone who can surprise my Father must be very skilled. Despite my disdain for these Games, I find myself leaning forward to get a better look into the arena when I hear the grates open for the third time.

“What is there to be surprised about?” Amarantha counters, but her words feel farther away as I catch sight of movement from the dark tunnel behind the entrance of the arena. “They’re rebels, their deaths will make martyrs out of them. They want a public execution.”

The world feels as if it has narrowed into this moment. The din of the crowd starts to fade in and out of focus. I am suddenly very aware of the roaring of my heartbeat in my own ears.

The first male steps out of the tunnel, stripped to the waist, his bronze chest smattered with cuts and scrapes and bruises so dark they’re nearly black. Dark twisting tattoos trace their way up his broad chest and over his shoulders and back, until they meet great, leathery wings like that of a bat’s. Long, dark hair, matted with mud and what might be blood, clings to his face, but despite the disheveled state, his hazel eyes remain clear and bright.

The crowd boos when they see him. A few people hurl food at him.

“Cassian,” Amarantha scoffs. “The rebels call him their General.”

Father frowns. “As foolish as their militia was, do not forget how many of our soldiers he killed.”

I cannot take my eyes off him. He’s taller than the guard that leads him by his bound wrists into the Pit. Larger too. Those broad shoulders and defined abs speak volumes about how skilled in swordplay he must be.

“Will you keep his wings when he dies, Uncle?” Brannagh asks.

The wine threatens to come up at the thought of having to see such beautiful wings pinned to a wall in Father’s study. The male clearly cares for them. When the guard gets too close he flicks them out of reach. While there are some nicks in the leathery membrane, the wings are the least scarred part of him. He has to take good care of them for someone so battle hardened to keep them looking like that.

“Happily,” Father says.

Even if I wanted to look at him, I couldn’t, not as the second male enters the arena. He’s a little shorter than the first, his hair shorter, the dark onyx locks curling gently around his forehead. Blood still drips from an open gash across his temple, staining his cheek and neck crimson. Like the first, his chest is bare and marked with the same swirling tattoos, but unlike the first, his great wings hang limp behind him. One drags along the mud like a cape, the leathery membrane ripped open and bleeding, the other is twisted at an angle sharp enough to make me wince at the sight. The urge to run down to him is overwhelming. My hands drift down to the seat cushion and hold tight to keep myself still.

The crowd continues to boo and throw things as he tries to keep his head up and meet the other male in the center of the Pit.

“Azriel,” Father says to Amarantha, “ was quite a challenge for you, I hear?”

His beloved General frowns. “The shadow wielder managed to get a few good blows in, I’ll admit. But surprise only gets you so far.”

My eyes drift from his broken wings to his hands, covered entirely in scars, like someone burned him. The thought makes my chest heavy.

I don’t know what’s happening to me. I have never been so obviously shaken by the Games, not since the first time I’d come. Father had made me sit through weeks of slaughter, watching as gladiator after gladiator fell prey to a magic storm and a slew of magic beasts. Even then I had managed to hold it together until I’d made it home to vomit, but now I feel as if I cannot keep my body in its seat!

The magic that lives caged beneath my, usually, pristine facade cracks through, a bit of dark mist seeping out from between my fingers. I unfurl my fists and take my hands carefully into my lap, using a bit of my skirts to hide the errant flow of power. I’ve been neglecting my studies, have not given myself an outlet, this is a terrible time for a flare up! I try to focus on my breathing, the pounding of my heart isn’t helping. I need to remain calm. I need to remain in control.

A feat that feels utterly impossible as the third and final male exits the tunnel. Time comes to a grinding halt, every footfall against the Pit floor a drumming, haunting echo in my ears. I have utterly forgotten how to breathe; how to think. The male is by far the most beautiful male I’ve ever seen, violet eyes twinkling with a thousand glittering stars. He sports the same tattoos as the others, the same bronze skin and battle hardened muscle, but it is the expression on his face that gets me. He is as battered and bloody as the second male, cheek split open, a slash mark clean down the middle of his chest; most of his body is a bruise, but he doesn’t wince at all. He keeps his chin high, high enough to look Father right in the eyes with every step he takes into the Pit. There’s a clear challenge there, unhindered by the chains around his neck and wrists. Those gorsian stone chains don’t often make an appearance, unless the person attached to them is exceptionally skilled with magic.

“Rhysand,” this time Amarantha’s voice is an excited purr and the power trying to escape through my fingers slips faster from my palms. I dig my nails so tight into my palms they bleed.

“I do admit, it’s a shame you have to kill him,” she continues. “He’d make such a pretty addition to my collection.”

It is all I can do to not turn and hurl a blast of dark, obsidian power at her. I keep my gaze on the Pit instead, as the final rebel joins the others in the center. Its only once he’s there that something clicks into place in my mind. If Amarantha still speaks I can’t hear her. Time freezes again, the only signal of its passing the pounding of my heart in my ears.

They’re my mates!

And I’m about to watch them die.

#rhysand x reader #rhys x reader #Cassian x reader #azriel x reader #poly!bat boys x reader #gladiator!bat boys #gladiator!rhys #gladiator!cassian #gladiator!azriel #acotar fic #acotar au #bat boys smut (eventually)#my writing #my fic

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succubusvalentine · 5 months ago

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Everyone loves a Ghost mechanic AU, but I raise you mechanic au where the roles are reversed.

Simon cursed as the engine to his truck made the third unpleasant grinding sound within the past half an hour. He didn’t exactly know a lot about cars, so he thought it would be better to just drive to a mechanic. And that’s exactly what he did.

Pulling into the mechanic garage, Simon stepped out, brows furrowing when he can’t see anyone.

“Hey, hun. What can I do you for?” a voice rang out from behind him, and when Simon turned and looked down, he saw you. A woman who looked far too pretty to be working in a dingy mechanic shop. You were far more fit to be in SImon’s house, all barefoot and pregnant, greeting him with a kiss and a hug when he gets home from work.

“Hello? You need something done on your truck?” you asked, snapping Simon out of his thoughts.

“Uh, engines making a sound. Like grinding.” Simon muttered, voice gruff “I'd fix it myself but all I know about cars is how to change a tire.”

You seemed satisfied with that answer, wiping your hands on a rag you had tucked into your overalls, before walking over to the front of the old beat up red truck, and popping open the hood.

Simon leaned against a concrete pillar, crossing his arms and staring at you. He didn’t trust easily.

After you’d looked at his car, you wiped your hands again, before going up to Simon. “It seems to be your bearings, sweet pea. Gonna be around four hundred, I can have it done in a few hours” you informed him. Simon couldn’t help the twinge of amusement at the nicknames you’re calling him.

Simon nodded silently, before pulling out his wallet.

“But,” you start, a coy smile on your lips “i’ll only charge you three hundred cause you’re cute”

The tips of Simon’s ears go red, something that happened whenever he was flustered. Been happening since he was a kid and Penny on the playground gave him a kiss on the cheek before running away. And judging by how your coy smile only grows wider, you notice his flustered give away as well.

“Right…thanks” Simon says, still reeling from your boldness. “You uh…You take care of my truck. Real attached to that thing” he finished.

“Oh don’t worry, by the time you come back to pick her up, she’ll be stripped and sold for whatever parts I can salvage.” you quipped, biting your lip as you grinned. The action made Simon swoon slightly.

Simon ended up leaving and going to a coffee shop nearby, talking to Price on the phone about an upcoming mission while he waited.

When Simon got back, he couldn’t help the twitch of his lips at the small amount of grease smeared on your cheek. You walked over, wiping your hands on your overalls this time, not the rag.

“All fixed up for you moonpie,” you grin, “I’m about to close up for the day so you best go on now.” you smile, holding the keys out to him.

Simon grunted and nodded, “thank you” he murmured, taking his keys from your hand, noting how much bigger his hand was compared to yours, before turning and getting in his truck, reversing out of the garage.

He grimaced slightly when the sun hit his eyes while he waited for an entrance to pull out onto the road, the sun was setting yet not all the way set, at that annoying angle which practically blinded him.

So, he quickly pressed the sunglasses compartment above him, Simon’s eyes widening for a moment when a piece of paper fell out alongside his sunglasses.

“You’re sweet on the eyes, sweet pea. Call me sometime xoxo" with your phone number scribbled on it.

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shadesoflsk · 7 months ago

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DRUNK WORDS ARE SOBER THOUGHTS

pairing: arthur morgan x fem reader

summary: arthur didn't believe he was worthy at all. however, you made it your duty to turn harsh words into self love.

warnings: reader is drunk, mentions of death, a bit suggestive at the end.

word count: 1.7k

Arthur was a man of few words. Blunt and straightforward statements were his way to go. He was well-spoken, don't get it wrong. But it seemed that his knowledge in words shone the brightest when a plethora of adjectives slipped from his lips at the sight of him in the mirror.

Staring back at him, was a madman. A garbage at most. Dull, horrible, and not worthy of a penny even though a bounty was placed on him.

However, life worked in mysterious ways when someone appeared in his life. He was no longer a cloud on a sunny day but a star in a clear sky. His eyes, at least for now, had a glint that has been lost ever since…—he doesn't know when or which was the ultimate instance in which happiness left his life.

You were a sight for sore eyes, a bandaid for a wound. A one and only in a world of forever ‘ifs.’ A constant where finite was the sole possibility. And lastly, a sweet fragrance mixed with the smell of gunpowder and death.

However, he seldom thought about a calm life. He was not deserving of silence since it meant replaying his life through his eyes. Maybe that’s why his own mind was sabotaging his happiness. Life as an outlaw at least gave him a purpose, trying not to get killed left him with no time to dwell on his own low self-esteem.

“You ugly bastard…” Sour as always but not less honest. In his mind, it was a payback. An attempt to not be in debt with life or whatever entity above him. He didn’t deserve a good life, so a few insults at himself would make things even.

Despite the harsh words he shared with himself, there was a chirping but endearing voice that told him otherwise. Ugly would be replaced by beautiful and old with young.

But words weren’t enough if his shell was hard to crack. Therefore, the change had to come from him and not from a third person.

"Arthur….” An intoxicated voice called him and brought him back to reality, to his reality. Both of you have shared some drinks that led to being somewhat drunk. Alcoholic beverages affected you a tad more than him, but that didn’t mean you were unconscious.

You were indeed very conscious.

“You know I love you, right?” And perhaps his own demons subtly pull him to believe your words are just drunk rambles. Lies mixed with a hint of just neediness and stupidity. No wonder, he doesn’t let you drink. Because he now has to deal with the slow poison of not being actually loved.

Damn you.

You share a cabin, you share a room and you definitely share days in which boredom was the pillar of your new life. A boredom not less welcomed but still so foreign to the rough man. But of course, in his messed up mind that didn’t mean you loved him.

“You’re drunk…”

His insecurities drowned out any joy he could feel. Dismissing your words was easier than accepting a reality he had never experienced.

Loving himself.

“I am drunk. You’re completely right sir.” The little show you were giving him was rather amusing. He had dealt with a drunk you many times before, but now it seemed there was a sense of purpose behind your actions.

“But I’m simply telling the truth.” A waterfall of I love you’s escaped your lips. As if every one of them tried to make its way deeper into his system and plant a seed of self-worth.

Clumsily, your body fell on top of him. However, you were conscious enough not to knock him towards the bed but rather straddle his lap. A poor attempt at caging him and stopping him from evading your words.

A faint of irritation coursed through Arthur as your voice rose slightly. But not at you but at his own incompetence of believing your words as beautiful as they sounded. Nonetheless, he was weak when feeling the warmth of your body embracing his. A reminder of you being alive and well next to him.

“Quit your rambling and sleep, you drunken fool lady.” His words may have sounded harsh but deep down, a tender tone hid behind his call out. Especially with how his hands protected you from falling.

A smile formed on your face as you felt Arthur’s hands on your lower back. A few months ago, you had told him you felt safe with him, his reply was no more than a scoff but that moment wouldn’t leave his mind. And although he could only see the hands of a killer, he ought to protect you no matter what.

That was the least he could do.

“You may say that but…” Your hand caressed his stubbled cheek. “Drunk words are…” A hiccup escaped your lips. “Drunk words are sober thoughts.”

And they damn were. Even when alcohol wasn’t running through your veins as it does now. I love you’s were more common than greetings at this point.

“You ain’t makin’ any sense, woman.” He whispered, brushing back some hair that was sticking to your forehead.

“You don’t make any sense either, Arthur Morgan.” You replied, this time a bit more serious than all of your previous ‘yapping’.

He groans, knowing you were right. There were days in which his existence didn’t make any sense, at least for him.

You knew that this simple talk wouldn’t do anything to the so-wounded Arthur. His heart has built an armor so strong that not even truthful words could destroy it. You shifted in his lap and slowly moved closer to him.

“Let’s do something else.” A glint appeared in your eyes as you came up with an idea to sort out the root of the problem.

However, Arthur completely misunderstood your intentions.

“I ain’t doin’ nothing with you. Look at the state you’re in.” He stated firmly.

“You fool of a man. It ain’t nothing to do with that sort of thing.” You softly punched him in his chest, not really aiming to hurt him but rather reprimand him.

“Just… hear me out, okay?” Your eyes locked with his blue-ish ones. Amidst the drunken state you were in, your intentions were as clear as if you were sober. “You’re gonna repeat after me, got it?”

“I don’t like this.” Arthur muttered, his nose scrunching up a bit.

You paid no mind, already getting your plan to work. “Listen closely.”

A hint of curiosity flashed through his eyes as he couldn’t really make out what you wanted him to do.

“I love you.”

Arthur rolled his eyes at your words. Words he had heard (and said) so much. But there was not a day he did not yearn to hear it from your lips.

He couldn’t help but sigh, a facade to hide how much he was starting to let himself drown in the feeling.

“I love you.” He finally obliged, his eyes squinting when he saw you grinning.

“Oh honey… I know.” You cooed but your chuckles were obvious to a confused Arthur. You were light-heartedly teasing him. “But you were supposed to change the ‘I’ for ‘You’ and the ‘you’ for ‘me,’ silly”

“That’s not what the word ‘repeat’ means.” His words are accompanied by his own self of teasing. Maybe this wasn’t such a bad idea.

“Shut up Arthur….”

“A little demanding for someone who can’t even sit straight on my lap.” And finally, a feeble smile adorned his face.

“Go on.” You frowned, already waiting to continue with the little game or experiment you were both taking part in.

“You love me?” He repeated questioningly, expecting some kind of correction on your part.

“Very much.” You emphasized, letting your words linger in the air for a bit before coming up with another phrase, another affirmation he had to repeat. “Now… ‘I’m worthy’.”

He furrowed his eyebrows, he hadn’t even said the word yet and it already felt so foreign to him. Worthy of what?

“Say what?” He feigned ignorance, knowing damn well what your little plan was. A playful smile was on his face.

“Don’t play dumb. It doesn’t suit you.” You persisted, not allowing him to escape from the inevitable. “Repeat it.”

You gently held his face, your noses brushing in an endearing display of affection. And for a few seconds, both of you just stayed there, embracing the warmth of shared love and unspoken intimacy.

Maybe he was indeed worthy. Worthy of having someone next to him every time he wakes up. Worthy of having a warm meal every day, and having someone he could so easily love.

Both of you are grinning like idiots, you were drunk on alcohol and he was in the love you were—or rather always provided.

Reluctantly, slowly, and carefully. He thought about those two words and let them set in his brain before saying them.

“I’m worthy.” He finally repeated… or confessed? His mind was still adamant to believe it. But acceptance is the first step for a change and you have taught him about the art of betterment.

A lump formed in his throat as he looked into your loving eyes. A feeling of purpose suddenly rushed back to him. After all these years, this was the first time he actually felt worthy.

“So worthy…” A loving kiss was pressed against his lips. Your words were a silent prayer and the dim room was your sacred place. If God existed he surely did an amazing job forgiving him.

Arthur’s eyes fluttered closed as your lips locked with his. He was no stranger to your affection but damn he would never say no to them. A strange sense of hope washed over him, maybe this was the beginning of a new era.

He had everything, it was time to enjoy it.

“So worthy…” He repeated even though he wasn’t mean to. Those were your words, but now he managed to sing them as if they were a song he was learning.

And the phrase was repeated over and over that night. When your eyes got tired of being opened and when the alcohol finally took its toll on you. It was repeated when you finally fell asleep and he admired the face of his life partner. And it was repeated over the course of days, when he found his home inside of you, letting his body show how much he adored you.

Arthur was a man of few words. But now, his mental dictionary was completed and the insults were soon replaced with only words of affection.

Worthy of life and love.

#arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan x you #arthur morgan fanfiction #arthur morgan #arthur morgan rdr2 #arthur morgan fluff #red dead redemption 2 #rdr2

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baka-bakeneko · 1 year ago

Text

Body - Toji Fushiguro x Fem Reader [NSFW]

tags: bodyguard Toji, bodyguard/damsel dynamics (if you squint), Toji is a bastard, brat/brat tamer dynamic, dry humping, a tad of CNC, wrap it before you tap it psa, rough fuck, dominant Toji, our little secret vibes

wc: 3.19k

synopsis: Toji gets hired to be a bodyguard for a bratty public princess.

a/n: thank you to @/yunonoai_ for singlehandedly fueling all my Toji imaginations into reality. This one for you, boo. and also u, anon that was asking for more toji content.

Toji repeated in his head brat, brat, brat every time he was in vicinity of you. Of course, public princess like you needed Daddy's protection. And Daddy paid a pretty penny for you.

Upon his first time meeting you, after effectively schmoozing your father for the position, Toji kept his eyes trained to yours while he dully scanned over you.

Toji bit back a scoff, bowed his neck to show respect in front of your father and introduced himself. He'd sat down after your father left with a kiss to your cheek, leaving you in the loft alone with him.

When the door shut, you rolled your eyes and undid the top buttons of your shirt and undid your hair. Toji quirked a brow, already assuming the worst.

In all honesty, Toji wished that your father had called it what it truly was: brat sitter. He followed behind you, carried your bags, listened to your girly gab with your friends about boys and sat with you in the car while you talked on the phone to your mother.

He wildly misunderstood the duties of this position. While he casually carried his gun attached to his hip, Toji hadn't gotten a sense of danger except for him being around you.

Whether or not you agreed with your father's need for protection, you had to commend Toji for being able to blend into the background. He was barely close to agreeable in anything you did, a grimacing pillar of stone close behind you. But he was intimidating, to say the least.

You remembered the look on your friend's faces when he sat behind you at lunch; his looming, plain glare piercing through them, leaving them quiet and nervous.

With a glance behind you, Toji raised an unamused brow then lowered his head to eat his meal.

"He's very..." one friend whispered at you.

"Big. And scary." The second one added.

You shrugged and resumed your meal. "That's what he's meant for."

He did exactly what your father ordered him to: to be your shadow. A phantom among your daily routine without a hitch. He was silent in the car afterwards, following you out of the car with your bags in his hold.

You retrieved your loft keys from your purse as the doorman opened the door for you two. Toji grumbled softly, dropping off the bags to an attendant while keeping in step with you to the elevator.

Just as the two of you made way into the elevator, Toji's earpiece sounded and he tapped it with his middle finger. "Sir?"

The formal introduction grated Toji's nerves, his teeth gritting while he listened to your father. He was quiet while his earpiece buzzed with information, wedging himself to the back wall of the elevator after pushing the button for your floor.

You stood near him, pulling out your phone to check your messages in the downtime. As the two of you stood, waiting for the elevator to close and go up, more tenants filed in.

Toji instinctively grabbed your elbow and pulled you before him, giving more space to the strangers that slowly filled the confined space.

"Yes sir, we're boarding the elevator now." Toji offered, turning his attention down at you then to the closing doors of the mechanism.

You glanced up at him, his hand now grasped at your elbow to keep you close. The elevator was soon cramped with strangers shoulder to shoulder and you stood close in front of Toji.

You shifted your footing, pulling your knees together to fit in Toji's wide stance. Toji glared down at you stepping closer to him.

Brat, brat, brat. He repeated in his head, even as your backside squished against his waist. He pursed a breath out, turning his head to listen to your father again.

"Take her inside when you get upstairs. I'd like to implement a short-term lockdown, just in case."

"Of course. How long?" Toji asked, ignoring you shifting against him again.

He attempted to flush his mind back to the pay, anything but the actual wedging of his soft cock between your cheeks.

Were you even wearing panties under this skirt? Toji cleared his throat and blinked hard, trying to rid his mind of that thought.

You wiggled in front of Toji, shifting your weight from one foot to the other. Putting your phone back in your bag, you crossed your arms and stood tall before Toji.

His pecs felt directly behind your head, the heat of his body looming behind you. With a glance over your shoulder, you rolled your eyes and crossed your arms.

Toji couldn't find a placement for his hands, unable to cross them like you had. He placed them on his hips, releasing a soft exhale above his head.

"Yes sir. Will do," Toji finished off his phone call with a double tap to his earpiece.

You turned your head over your shoulder and lowered your voice.

"What did my father have to say?"

Toji grit his teeth, leaning down to meet your ear with a whisper. "You're going to be on lockdown."

Toji's breath traveled down your spine, making you inhale sharply. Your arms crossed tighter over your chest, hiding the perk of your nipples.

You shifted your knees, which made your ass rub against Toji's cock again. He tilted his head back against the wall, trying to ignore the feeling of you against him.

Brat, brat, brat. Stupid brat. Spoiled little fucking brat. He bit at his inside lip, his hands gripping tighter at his hips. Toji couldn't pull his hips back any further, only let you lean against his cock.

An errant whimper escaped you, feeling your bodyguard's figure stiffen behind you. You flinched, tightening your cheeks only for Toji to clear his throat.

The doors one at a time, allowing small groups of people to filter out of the elevator. Toji glanced up at the corner of the elevator, noticing the security camera no doubt getting the full view of him practically dry humping his boss's daughter.

By the time that they reached your floor, Toji was adamant with pushing you off of him and out of the doors as quickly as possible. You couldn't blame him in the slightest; a moment longer in that situation and you would've faltered.

Toji had to admit that he would have folded, his natural beration of you in his head no longer aiding his disdain but his natural urges.

He kept his eyes level at the back of your head, following you down the hallway to your father's penthouse. Eyes up, Fushiguro. Goddamn it.

Even with his personal lashing, Toji couldn't help but falter his eyes down your spine and to your ass poured tight into your pencil skirt.

The slight slit between your thighs was highlighted with the flash of sensitive skin. He growled in his throat, straightening his back and returning his gaze to your head.

You felt Toji's eyes bore into the back of your skull, felt personally ogled and examined by this man. When you finally reached the door of your father's penthouse, you opened it and let your bodyguard follow you in.

Upon closing and locking the door, Toji's heavy hand slammed over your shoulder.

Your breath caught, feeling the man's massive stature over your back as his lips crept to behind your ear. Just as you felt his other hand slip up between your thighs from the slit of your skirt.

"Are you fucking wet for me right now?"

You whimpered softly, your body pressed against the heavy oak door. You willed yourself to ignore this man's question, even as his calloused fingers stroked up the sensitive insides of your thighs. His knuckles left no side of you in want, caressing up just to stop before your pussy.

You shut your eyes, holding your forehead to the door before Toji grabbed the back of your neck and pulled you back to look at him. His fingers weaved into the hair at the nape of your neck, offering a delicious sting down your back.

"You want to answer me, brat?" He seethed at your face, his teeth bared together.

Your chest curved out, the buttons of your shirt tempted to break open. Your hands went for Toji's at your skirt and neck respectively, earning another tug at your hair.

"Behave and answer me." Toji's scarred lips made their way to your ear even as his fingers slipped between your lips.

You crooned at his touch, feeling him swirl the wet he caused back and forth before retracting. Still, you didn't answer him as he found his own answer.

Toji scoffed, pulling his fingers from your skirt and holding them up for you to see. He tilted his soiled fingers in the afternoon light from the windows and clicked his tongue at the sight.

"Fucking knew it," Toji purred, nipping at your earlobe. "Why don't you tell me how you taste, hmm?"

You forced your lips together, folding them in to keep Toji's fingers out. Even though you'd been with him all day, you didn't trust the cleanliness.

"What if I don't want to?" you quipped, nipping out at Toji's digits when they approached your mouth.

His glare was unfazed by your defiance, knowing this was nothing new he expected. Toji shook his hand in your hair, loosening your fight against him.

"Fine," he bit, using his wet fingers to pluck your shirt buttons open. "Tell me then, brat, what'll happen when I force my cock in your mouth."

Your eyes flamed at the thought, your knees melting apart when Toji shook you to the floor. He was not one to ask for your permission, but he understood when you said 'stop' it'd be done.

There was no way that he'd actually risk his pay to fuck a spoiled brat. "Say you swear by my cock that you'll keep it secret."

You sneered up at Toji, knelt before the knot on his pants. "Fuck you."

He took a deep breath in and out, your venomous tone nothing against your seductive eyes. "You should work better on your delivery. And hide your want a bit harder."

His free hand had his thumb flatten against your lips, admiring how malleable and biteable they were. Toji would mark them last, pierce the soft skin with his teeth to make you bleed.

Thumb forcing between your lips, over your teeth, he hooked you towards him. The jut of your jaw made you straighten up, glaring at Toji. When you were right where he wanted, he pulled his thumb out and unceremoniously tugged his pants down to reveal his thick, at-attention cock.

It sprang before your face, practically kissing your nose with precum. Though your glare attempted to convey disgust, your pussy wetted further at the sight. His musk was natural, something expected from a man who only showered on days he worked.

The sweat from him was pungent, cloaked with cologne but was now heady before your face. Your mouth watered, repulsed with yourself.

"You can't hide that you want my cock." Toji said, grabbing the base of his erection and tapping his tip against your nose. "I'll let you kiss it if you beg."

Your teeth forced together, narrowing your eyes at your bodyguard. Toji grinned at your expense, shifting his angle to tap his cock against your pressed lips.

"Just like a brat to want me to force you." Toji pushed at the back of your neck, bringing you to kiss at the underside of his cock, dragging your lips down to his balls.

You moaned at the feeling of his dick skin hot and tight against your lips. His vein twitched against your mouth, giving way to his desire. Your nose was violated with the sting of his musk, only driving more wet out of you.

Toji groaned at the feeling of your lips against him, wanting to grind his cock over your mouth to climax. It was the very least he was willing.

"Give me something. God damn," he exasperated, pulling your soft lips away.

You hissed at his grip, giving him an arch of your chest in exchange. Your hand went for his wrist again, your other tugging at your skirt to hike it up.

"Oh," Toji said, his eyes wandering down your body until he caught sight of your bare pussy. "That's exactly what I wanted."

You purred softly, spreading your knees further apart by his agreeance. When he tilted his head to gain view of your wet lips, you slammed your knees together again.

A carnal growl rumbled from Toji's chest then, his teeth bared like a feral dog. "Brat."

He released your hair and sat on the couch in the room, grabbing hold of his cock and stroking. He shut his eyes, imagining anything else to get his mind off of you but was met with the mental roadblock of your ass, your lips.

You sat on the white marble floor, staring over at frustrated Toji. Even without him paying attention to you, he made you bothered. Your hand on your skirt hem dipped in to tease yourself, watching as Toji bitterly handled his cock.

Toji lolled his head side to side, trying to meddle through you but ultimately failing. Opening his eyes to you, he raised a brow at your efforts. He so badly wanted to force you down and take from you, but there was delicate game to be played.

Even when you met his gaze, your doey eyelashes fluttering in invitation, Toji remained sat on the couch handling his dick in softer strokes.

"Stop toying with me. If you want me, come sit on it."

His eyes narrowed on you, rolling his shoulders back as he toyed at the head of his cock. You pouted, sinking your fingers into your core.

Toji sneered, watching your fingers slowly pump into you. Your brows furrowed, pussy clenching as you hummed. He attempted to keep himself at his seat, though he felt taunted by your sounds.

"Brat." He barked. "Now. Get on my cock."

You squeaked, leaning forward on your fingers as you ran your other hand up your chest and to your neck. Fighting his want and your own felt nauseating, but you knew what it would mean to fuck your bodyguard.

Even without your father knowing, you'd know. And once it started, you weren't sure you could stop. To have his dick on command was exhilarating to some effect, but still you fought yourself.

Toji launched himself from the couch, crawling over to you before grabbing your knee and pulling your legs spread. He was tired of wasting time, he was exhaused by games.

"Tell me now. Yes or no?" He asked the softest he could. Toji's teeth were still grit, his scarred top lip quivering in a sneer.

His cock was hung precariously between your splayed thighs, your legs draped over his hips. You felt the heat of him against you, ready and willing.

You slipped your fingers out, vulgarly displaying your open pussy to him before pulling your skirt up to your stomach. Your throat parched, you nodded at him.

His sneer curled into a sinful grin, his hands gripping your hips as he angled his cock to your ready entrance. Without a second to ready yourself, he pushed into you.

Your hands fisted on the marble floor, wiggling your hips to accomodate his girth. Shaky breaths rattled your chest with Toji pushing further into you.

"So tight," Toji groaned, throwing his head back at the instant relief. "So wet."

You mewled at his words, shifting on his length. He raised up on his knees, effectively pulling your legs up and over yourself before he started slamming his cock down into you.

Audible cries escaped you, your body folded onto your shoulders. Hands flailing at his thighs for him to slow down, but he tore through you with a stamina that had you melting.

Sweat was instant, dotting your bra and hairline while Toji maintained his standard of put together. His hands gripped tighter into your thighs, effectively bruising them and ready to puncture them with his dirty nails.

You crooned out with each thrust, Toji becoming entranced in the chase of the high rather than your pleasure. He relished in your pulsating walls, your wet pussy sounding with each slap of his hips.

Your body became a whole from you, vibrating on the end of Toji's cock. You seethed when he fucked into you, whined when he pulled out and moaned when he spread you open around him.

He strung a long dip of spit from his bottom lip where your clit throbbed, ignored, and kept pumping. Lechery coursed through him, abandoning all pleasantries for the boss's daughter.

Lower back aching, you angled your hips to ease the weight of Toji's heavy hips jackhammering. With that, you found yourself clenching tighter around his cock.

Your breaths drew fast and layered, your chest choking your neck. "Shit, Toji, h-hold on, I'm gonna--"

Toji squeezed terminally hard at your thighs, piercing your skin as he tutted deep against your insides. A pained gasp escaped you, his mouth finding your bottom lip and nipping you raw.

The euphoria slammed into you, your stomach rolling. Mouth gaped, you tasted a tinge of blood on the tip of your tongue. Toji's dark glare bored into your watering eyes, taking in each minute tinge on your face.

"Easy little brat," Toji spat down at you, riding your velvety walls. "Daddy would die if he saw you sullied like this, huh?"

Dirty talk was never one of Toji's strong suits, especially with practical silver spoon princesses.

"Guess it'll be our little secret," Toji said, running his hands further to catch onto your skirt. He tore the fabric at the zipper lining down your back, exposing your blushing, sweaty skin to the apartment.

You whined, pulling in your bottom lip to aid the nip. Toji shut his eyes and staggered through his thrusts, jutting his hips hapzardly in and out until he finally pulled out and came.

His twitching cock rested against your spent pussy, marking your face and chest with his cum. He rolled his shoulders back with a satisfied huff, giving your plushy thighs another hard squeeze before dropping you to the floor.

Toji reeled back on his haunches, catching his breath and nursing his sensitive hard on back into his pants. He wasn't going to spare another look at you, knowing that if he did, he'd bend you over again.

You gasped at the ceiling, slowly regaining feeling in your toes before sitting up. You stretched your neck, grabbing your tattered skirt to clean up Toji's signature mess on you.

After a few moments of silence, Toji looked around the penthouse. Still intact as minutes before, no security cameras in sight.

He rounded his stature, returning to his hardened work demeanor. "Aren't you going to offer me some tea?" He asked, matter-of-factly.

You scoffed in disbelief at him, glaring at him from under your brows before you pushed your way onto your feet.

"Make it yourself."

#toji smut #jjk toji #toji fushiguro #toji x reader #toji x you #jjk #toji jujutsu kaisen #fushiguro toji #fushiguro #jujutsu kaisen

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alwayscorvus · 6 months ago

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Do not forget your place

Do not forget your place - Part 1

bodyguard!malereader x Yuanwu, fluff, short;

a little bit angsty? But it's a good ending that matters, right?

How many years have you been his bodyguard? Five, ten…twenty?

It all started with that one session at his gym. At that time you were not the best, even pretty bad. Yuanwu, however, recognized something special in you.

And it wasn't about your torn, dirty clothes or the fact that you didn't have a single penny to pay.

Although that, indeed, was a big problem. Not for Yuanwu, he didn't care about money. But for you, for your pride. Ego.

Especially after the way he treated you so well.

You felt guilty for letting yourself get carried away with your emotions earlier. And for wanting to get rid of them, which led you to the ring.

You were no longer a teenager. In your opinion, you were far too old to be a trainee. Nevertheless, Yuanwu soothed your nerves over a cup of tea, provided a roof over your head, and eventually trained you. For a person he could entrust his life to.

It's not that Yuanwu needed a bodyguard. He was perfectly capable of protecting himself. Maybe even more than you. People in his position, however, were not suited for defending themselves. They could afford to hire someone to get their hands dirty.

Yuanwu was not fond of this idea, but he was not foolish either. He had to try really hard to keep being respected by others, in order to keep things in peace. "Maintain the stability." "Keep his hometown safe "*.

You heard a loud hoarse cough, which snapped you out of your thoughts.

Sight of your boss reappeared before you.

Elegantly dressed Yuanwu was sitting sideways to you on a white quilted couch. His longtime rival took a seat on opposite, simillar sofa. They were separated by a glass coffee table, with two cups of untouched tea. You stood straight, as the rest of bodyguards of both sides.

However, this was about to change.

Yuanwu's expression spoke by itself. At least to you.

In a split second you dashed forward. Shots rang out all around.

Yuanwu jumped up. And you felt a ripping pain of a bullet rubbing against your shoulder. Yuanwu was safe. But only for a moment. You had to get him out of there.

Your co-worker just collapsed onto a floor. Wounded by another weapon. Other took cover behind a pillar. And by great aiming, took revenge of his friend. Got rid of a bodyguard from an opposite side.

Yuanwu's rival was preparing for another attack. You grabbed your boss by his hand and rushed towards the door.

On your way, you had to push off another attacker. Struggle was brief. In a rush of adrenaline, you managed to dodge all his punches.

While you cleared the way, Yuanwu protected your back until you both were able to safely leave the building.

You ended up in a black alley, a few blocks away from a meeting spot and a few kilometers from home. Your hearts pounded like crazy. And breaths were raspy. You started screaming. About how stupid this idea was. About how he could have died.

-You know what they are like! It was obvious that they would attack you! And what if something had happened to you, huh?!

-Then I would die. And what? No one would care - he said with stern voice.

-Are you joking? Eveyone would care! I would care! -you uttered in a breaking voice.

Your emotions took control of you. Eyes turned glassy.

Yuanwu's expression wasn't helping. He looked at you terrified. As if your words and message behind them were much worse than todays events.

You looked at the man with hope. Seeking for support. Without thinking, you reached your hand towards him. You grasped his arm tightly.

You didn't know why you were so heartbroken. You have been in these situations many times. Even in much worse ones. But today-… After what he said-… You wanted him to finally understand that he really was important. That he had people around him who cared. That he had you.

Finally, you could become his support. The same that he has been for you for past years.

Yuanwu shook your hand off. Before you had time to react he turned on his heel and with a slow steps started to head towards an alley exit.

-It's better for us to go already.

-B-but-!

-Stop - he interrupted you. And you couldn't believe what was happening - Do not forget your place. You are just my bodyguard.

His voice was sharp, harsh and forceful. It hit you deep and greatly broke your heart.

You gripped your chest. You had to check if the pain was real.

-O-oh… okay... I understand-

Lie. You couldn't understand. All your shared memories passed before your eyes. Your trainings, walks. How you brewed tea or how you decorated your home together. Hours spent on talking.

Over the years, Yuanwu became your mentor, your friend, something more. On many occasions you joked around, gave hints. And you weren't the only one. It's true that man always quickly changed the subject. But he never openly showed his disapproval.

That hurt. Even though you were already mature and ready for a rejection.

But not in this way-

You understood that Yuanwu might not feel the same, might not approve it. But you would have given anything for him to accept your care. Even if only as from a friend.

But if that was his will, you had to accept it. Quickly you pulled yourself together. With a swift motion, you wiped away your tears and continued in a cold voice:

-Sorry.

Yuanwu stopped for a moment. It was as if this one word affected him more than the previous few. Nevertheless, you couldn't see his face. And you didn't even want to.

Chills ran through his body.

But your only goal now was to return home. His home.

*quotes from Yuanwu voicelines

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sohannabarberaesque · 9 months ago

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During a "girls' night out" at some hot springs outside Bedrock

[Mise en scene: Essentially during the time frame of The Pebbles and Bamm-Bamm Show, finding the titular characters as high schoolers and having a clique as includes the likes of Penny Pillar and Wiggy Moonstone. As the scene opens, we find Pebbles, Penny and Wiggy in what essentially amounts to "bonding" exercises prehistoric as involve having vaginal rubs in the shelters designed for overnight accomodation....] WIGGY MOONSTONE, lying atop Pebbles Flintstone in their common nakedness and rubbing each other vaginally: Ohhhhh my stars ... I can't help but find these exercises feeling so fantastic and oh so delightful! PEBBLES FLINTSTONE, chuckling at the sheer feel of Wiggy's vagina pressing against hers and rubbing as well: You can certainly say as much! [No wonder such an exercise in the prehistoric manner felt as wonderful as it did to build trust among fellow cavewomen, even when the pair rolled around and shifted positioning occasionally for the sake of comfort]

#hanna barbera #vignette #the pebbles and bamm-bamm show #prehistoric women #prehistoric sexuality #pebbles flintstone #penny pillar #wiggy moonstone #belly rubbing #vaginal rubbing #prehistoric bonding #building friendships #girls' night #hannabarberaforever

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trashcanplant · 11 months ago

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A Neighbor from an Older Time!

Introducing Doctor Terrance Tops! He’s a retired archeologist and history professor who now currently runs a small museum of Home. He’s a very kind old man, with enough patience to deal with each and every neighbors quirks! Doctor Tops wants nothing more than to make it to see his great grandson hatch, although he sure is taking his time. Some people joke that he’s Poppy’s grandpa, but the two will neither confirm or deny it. He used to teach Deirdre, and since moving to home has struck up a friendship with her. Terrance is an overall upstanding man who just wants the best for his students and the people of Home.

I have 8 kids. Tell Cherry to stop inspiring me, cause he was an accident too. But now I have a sweet old man in my care, so what do I mind? I love him a lot. Good old man.

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cherrythepuppet · 10 months ago

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A Dear In Headlights

Boxes. Thats what Jonsey saw in front of Franks house while on his walk to Howdy Place, He also saw Penny there and she wasn't destroying Frank's garden but instead helping move boxes inside "She seems like such a little doll! I bet Dandy will like her" Penny exclaimed

"I hope she'll be able to adjust well… I still have to enroll her into Deirdre's school" Frank sighed "I can probably help ya with that" Penny shrugged

Penny picked up a box then used her head to open the front door and she put a box inside "Say, Where is the little miss?" She asked

"Hm? Oh She wanted to explore the neighborhood" Frank repliedJonsey watched the two interact thinking it seemed a bit… Strange to see them talking and not yelling at each other

After a moment of watching He decided to continue on his way ignoring the two, He opened the door to Howdy´s place but didn't see Howdy at the counter but He saw the tall caterpillar standing in one of the aisles

"Mr Pillar! Im back" Jonsey called out

"One monet Jones!" Howdy said as he grabbed something off the top shelf then bent down "Here ya go" Howdy mumbled "Thank you!" A high-pitched voice told him

Jonsey perked up and looked over but couldn't see much so he moved over to the second Asile and peeked through the shelves, Yet even then he could hardly see anything just a small girl with a mop of orange-red hair

Jonsey frowned then one of the boxes of cereal was taken off the shelf, Jonsey blinked and saw the face of a girl with orange eyes and freckles

The girl froze and stared at him before she slowly put the cereal back and acted like nothing happened

"I think I've got everything, May I check out now?" She asked "Of course. Follow me" Howdy replied while he walked over to the counter and the girl checked out then left

Jonsey looked at the girl and at Howdy

"Jonsey! Howd the delivery go?" Howdy asked "Good" Jonsey paused "Who was that?" He added "Who? The girl?" Howdy muttered as Jonsey nodded

"Oh uh- well i believe that she´s Ed´s neice and she´s gonna live at Franks" Howdy explained "Saw Penn helpin´ with the unpacking over at Frank´s too, Strange sight ta se those two get along" Howdy chuckled

Well That explains the boxes "And im pretty sure the girls name is Bella and that shes around your age" Howdy added

"So now ya dont have to spend all your time with Me but dont forget about me!" He told Jonsey"I wouldnt!" Jonsey squeaked as Howdy patted him on the head…

Happy late birthday @trashcanplant!! Im sorry i was late with the writing (Very late- its been almost two months i feel awful-) And im sorry its short too, It was difficult writing kids

#welcome home #welcome home oc #penny peaches #fanfic #Bella Dear #Jonsey fruit bath #welcome home howdy pillar #howdy pillar #frank frankly #welcome home frank #BIRTHDAY GIFFFTT

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jaune-submissive-and-breedable · 4 months ago

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(FemDom) Ruby decided that the Vytal Festival would be the perfect time to broadcast to everyone that Jaune and his 'greatsword' belongs to her and her alone.

Amity coliseum was silent during the fight between Yang & Mercury. Not because Cinder's plan to frame the poor girl, both combatants' eyes locked on the giant screen. As were all eyes in the coliseum. Yang in particular, seeming most distressed. The reason being an outside source had hack into the broadcast and began projecting a special stream from within her dorm.

"You're all set Friend Ruby!" a chirper voice, recognized as Penny Polendina, called out to the young rose. the android holding a camera in facing the center of the room.

The girl in question, upon hearing que, popped into view, cause her friends and family to gasp in shock. She wore a red corset that left her perky tits exposed and black studded stocks with arm length glove to match. And most importantly, nothing covering her plump, and moist pussy lips. Yet, she stood oddly confident with a slight scowl on her face.

"Alright LISTEN UP YOU SCANKS OUT THERE!" She shouted, surprising many who knew the young girl "I want you to take a look at this"

the camera panned over to the nearest bunk. Laying on it was Jaune Arc, leader of team JNPR, her sister team. Tied to the bed posts, gagged with a pair of her panties, and very much naked with everything exposed. Most notably, his raging 9in cock, standing proud for the audience, making a lot of women watching the stream blush, wolf whistle or lick their lips at the sight. A certain red-haired Spartan's nose shot a cartoonish amount of blood at the sight. The blonde blushed embarrassed and ashamed when the camera panned to him.

Ruby walked back into view and gestured to Jaune dramatic, "YOU SEE THIS! THIS IS MINE THIS IS WHERE MY BABIES WILL COME FROM!!"

*what the fuck....* Jaune muttered, confusion visible in his eyes.

On que, Ruby lined herself up with his cock, facing the camera with a look of determination and fear.

"Friend Ruby, I don't this he'll fit inside you" Penny remarked as she eyed the solid pillar of Arc meat. A sentiment shared by all who watched the stream.

Ruby huffed and started pushing herself down onto the mass of flesh. Her face red as the bulbous head pierced her tiny pussy, a grotesque bulge forming as she slides down further. A small whimper escaped her mouth as she did. The audience watched with bated breath as she continued to struggle to against the blonde's length. Many, mostly the woman, watching the reaper expected her to give up and move one, but to everyone's surprise, and Yang's horror, Ruby successfully impaled herself onto Jaune's cock with a loud scream and a forceful push down.

Ruby sat there for a while, processing her lost of virginity and actually taking Jaune's monster cock. A grotesque bulge running up her stomach stopping a little above her belly button.

"Friend Ruby, Are you ok" Ruby just nodded, her hands using Jaune's thighs for support, "Are you sure. By the way your stomach is bulging, I think you should.."

"I'M FINE PENNY!" she snapped, slowly raising herself along his length before letting herself fall back down. Blood and sex fluids mixing together.

After a short bit, she began speeding up, finally getting over the shock. Rocking her body against Jaunes, both teens moaning softly. As she did, the bulge in her chest fluctuating with her movements.

"S...SEE.....He was....m...made for my kitty and mine alone!" she stammered, earning a few snide comments from onlookers.

Ruby began riding him harder, her breast bouncing up and down, and bubbly booty producing lewd plaps as she collided with the blonde's hips. Her breath become more rigid and hot, and body producing more and more sweat. Her silver eyes rolling in the back of her head.

"F.....Fudge he's so big!" She whined. She ceased bounce and rolled her hips against his. "Time to kick things into overdrive!"

Rose petals began to appear as her body began moving at impossible speeds. Those that knew her recognized this as her semblance and silently offer their prayers to Jaune. Who now moaned uncontrollably through her panties as he took Ruby's assault. Not stopping for a moment, she spun herself around, giving the audience a generous view of her bouncing bubble butt as it clapped and rippled from colliding with Jaune's hips.

Ruby arched her back and used his chest for support as she grinded her hips into his once more. Her breath wild and feral. She kept grinding till she felt herself getting closer to climaxing. Resuming riding Jaune's cock recklessly, the boy in question groaning as he felt his once climax approaching. She ripped the panties out of his mouth and pressed their lips together in a lust filled kiss.

"R...RUBY......I....I'M GONNA!!!" He cried once they were through with the kiss.

"ME TOO, BABY! LET'S DO IT TOGETHER! SHOW THOSE TRAMPS WHO YOU BELONG TO!"

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The coliseum erupted with groans, gasps, and moans as the two love birds on the screen climaxed, many of the onlookers began masturbating half way through the broadcast. Many of the females, especially a certain spartan, bunny, and maiden began concocting plans to stealing the blonde knight from the young reaper. While the males felt pangs of jealousy toward him.

Meanwhile in the arena, Mercury knelt down and comforted a crying and horrified yang

"Sh.....SH...SHe USED TO WATHCH SESEME STREET!" she wailed, trying to ignore the screen

"PENNY GET IN HERE! LET'S MAKE THIS SHIP OFFICIAL!"

"SHE USE TO WATCH BLUES CLUES!!!!" she wailed once more.

#rwby #rwby smut #jaune arc #ruby rose #penny polendina

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