#They are mentioned but not overly present

[writingblogsandothers]

The Chosen One

Part 9

Writer's Note: This is it - the final part... I hope there's no disappointment. It's been so great writing this and seeing your reactions. On to the next work! Speaking of, the final hours for submitting your answers to our poll Sending all the love, as per X

Word Count: 2k

Warnings: Mild Taunting/Teasing // Mild Fear // Violence // Mentions of killing/death // Mild kissing // Mild indications of sleeping together (nothing overly descriptive)

Use of She/Her/Lady - Female Pronouns

Readers over the age of 18 only please

Part 1 // Part 2 // Part 3 // Part 4 // Part 5 // Part 6 // Part 7 // Part 8

Aurelia followed Geta, along with Marcus to secret quarters which she had never seen before. At the end of the dark hallway, was a closeted door. It was opened wide by Acacius and they all entered. The entire senate was present along with Lucilla. She ran over to meet Aurelia with open arms and hugged her tightly. They all sat to discuss the matter at hand – how they were going to deal with Macrinus.

A variety of opinions were floating around the room,

“Jail him.”

“We should exile him, he is a dangerous man.”

“He is too close to Caracalla, it would never work, Caracalla needs to be dealt with.”

On mention of his brother, Geta stood and paced the room. His mind wasn’t altogether sound, but he was his brother. His actions were inexcusable but the thought of any ill to come to him made him feel very uneasy. Aurelia noticed his demeanour and reached out to grab his hand as he paced in a bid to calm him down. He stood firmly behind her and listened to what the other senators had to say.

“Exile and jailing are not for this man. He would find a way to work around that. As you say, he is well acquainted with my brother. Death is to be the sentence. Leave Caracalla to me. He is to be excused.” Geta demanded. The senate looked round at one another, not saying a word.

“DID YOU HEAR ME SENATORS? NOT. TO. BE. TOUCHED.” He screamed.

The senators mumbled “yes, Emperor” and the room fell silent. All eyes were on Geta, seeking action. He pulled Aurelia up by her hand, “Marcus Acacius is to conduct the mission. Listen to his direct commands. Acacius, draft in whatever you need.” He took his wife to his chambers for the evening and retired into a deep sleep.

***

It was still dark outside when Aurelia heard a door handle opening. She woke bleary eyed staring at the direction of the door, anticipating seeing Geta coming in, but she looked to her side and there he lay. She lay back down again on the bed thinking she had made up something in her head when suddenly she her mouth was covered with a rag that had a funny smell. She could feel her eyes closing on themselves and as she tried to struggle, the darkness overtook her.

***

She started to come round when she realised, she was sitting upright. Where was she? Aurelia began to frantically look around and tried to get up. It was only then she noticed she was tied by the ankles and her arms were pinned behind her, also tied. There was no way to break out of the knots on her own. She prayed to the gods that Geta or someone would come to find her and free her.

“Ahhh, Aurelia. You’re awake.” A dark figure emerged from the shadows, but she would recognise that voice anywhere. It was Macrinus.

“I don’t know what you think you are doing Macrinus, but whatever it is, it’s not going to work.”

Macrinus laughed in Aurelia’s face, “Oh but it’s going to work so perfectly. Caracalla is so foolishly stupid, he is indoctrinated. He thinks this is all for his benefit, but the poor fool, HA HA!” He knelt in front of the woman, “Your husband’s pretty crown will be on my head very soon.”

“Geta will never let you get away with this Macrinus. You are delusional if you think my husband is so weak.”

“We’ll soon see about that. As I said earlier Aurelia, I am the kind of man Rome needs. A man who can get what he wants and ensures nothing comes in their way to stops them. With Geta out of the way, and his pathetic wife of no use, no one will stop me in accomplishing what I want.”

“Macrinus, you so much as touch a hair on my husband there will be hell to pay. Rest assured.”

Macrinus chuckled at her empty threat as he thought, “Well we’re going to bring him down here and let you see how we will torture him and make sure you watch as he suffers greatly.”

Aurelia sobbed and shivered at his cold, callous words. “Later ‘Princess’”, he walked out of the room as Aurelia started to shuffle in her chair and writhe like a snake in a bid to free herself, but it was no use. She broke down crying further, fearful for what was to come next.

***

It was sometime later before she heard great commotion.

Geta screamed, “AURELIA, AURELIA, WHERE ARE YOU?!”

“Geta! Please help me!! GETA!”

He followed the sound of her voice and ran into the room. He broke down into tears and ran to her to try and untie her. “My darling, darling girl. What have they done?”

“Geta, they’re going to kill us. They’ll do it, they’ll do it! Macrinus, he’s here. He told me such awful things. We must stop them – we have to get out of here!”

“Well, well, well – the woman isn’t as dim as she looks. She’s got one thing right, and it’s not about stopping us!” Macrinus and Caracalla crept round the corner.

Geta ignored Macrinus’ grating voice and looked deeply into the eyes of Caracalla, “Brother, I don’t know what he has said or promised you, but it’s all lies! Caracalla, in the name of the gods - come to your senses!”

Caracalla approached Geta, “You’re right Brother, I do need to come to my senses.” A large, bladed weapon was wielded from Caracalla’s belt, and it was held against Geta’s neck.

“GETA! Caracalla, I swear if you hurt him, I’ll-”

“Oh, sweet Aurelia, that’s quite endearing… Macrinus, deal with her.” Macrinus approached her, standing over her body and slapped her harshly across the cheek.

“Brother, please don’t do this. This man is a fraud, an imposter. He is only using you to get what he wants. Please brother, I love you – you know that. We can get through this.”

Caracalla stared into the eyes of his brother, for a second Geta saw a glimmer of hope, “Brother, she has turned you so pathetic. It’s pitiful to see you the way you are. This is why I have always had a problem with you and her. Love makes the strongest men weak, and I feel brother that by doing this, I will actually be doing you a grave justice.”

Geta was about to speak when a Marcus Acacius entered the quarters and fighting ensued. The commotion startled Caracalla that Geta was able to get free. He went to get Aurelia, but her chair was now empty. He looked over to find Acacius and Macrinus sparring with their respective swords. When he turned back around, he was pushed abruptly to the ground by Caracalla and saw his blade swipe up into the air.

This was it.

This was how it was all to end.

An ambush by his own brother.

He closed his eyes preparing for the impact, when he heard a grave groan. He looked up to find Aurelia had impaled Caracalla in the upper shoulder. He fell with a thump to the ground.

He began manically laughing as he lay on the ground, “Macrinus, get this useless woman!”

With that, Acacius dropped Macrinus’ head in front of his face.

“There’s your great puppet commander, Emperor.”

Caracalla cried out and wept, “Macrinus, my sweet, sweet Macrinus.” He swept his fingers over his face.

Geta held his wife close as both of them wept. Acacius gathered Caracalla to address his wound. It wasn’t life threatening, just enough to stop him in his tracks.

“Emperor, what are we to do with him?” Acacius asked.

“He’s to be dethroned. Get him into the gladiator quarters, and fetch Aurelia’s brothers. Let the gods decide his fate.”

Caracalla cried, “Brother, brother, please I have failed you. Please, I will do better.” He continued to cry out after Geta, but he turned his back and ignored his cries as Acacius handed him across to the guards who stood at the doorway and followed them to the gladiator stay keep.

Geta held Aurelia even tighter. He was glad his wife was safe, but the betrayal of his brother was too much for him to accept. However, he had to face facts. Caracalla was willing to make his life a living hell. She was his possession, so any harm to her, affected him. He was also willing to get rid of him in a bid to help Macrinus take to higher power. It couldn’t go on. In this case, the gods were best to decide.

“Sweet husband, I love you. I am sorry how Caracalla has betrayed you. I don’t know how to make things better, but they will. Time will heal.”

He sighed, “Yes, it will. Come, let’s get out of here.” He took Aurelia by the hand and led them into the light.

***

With Aurelia’s brothers freed, the games resumed. The crowds gasped when they saw the new addition to the gladiators.

“PEOPLE OF ROME! We have a new gladiator in the rink, my brother, Caracalla. He is there to allow the gods to decide his fate. He has shown great treason, along with Macrinus your new senator. Guards, show the crowd Macrinus!”

A head rolled into the arena, and the crowd gasped – then erupted into great cheering and clapping.

“Now, RELEASE THE MONKEYS!” the crowd cheered once more, and the fighting began. He sat to watch the carnage ensue, taking Aurelia’s hand in his. Lucilla looked on the pair fondly, she was glad the threat of Caracalla was gone. Maybe Geta would soften in his new position without having to compete with his brother and his impish ways.

By the time it was finished, Caracalla was the only gladiator standing. He cheered for himself thinking him victorious, yet Geta knew of the rule. He had the option to chose whether he lived to fight another day or not. Aurelia looked up at him with sad eyes, she knew the fate that lay ahead of him, and she did not like the burden it leaned on her husband. Acacius chimed in, “Remember his treason, Emperor.” Geta nodded.

“THE GODSSS HAVEEEEE SPOKENNNNNNN!!!” he screamed at the top of his lungs, and firmly pointed his thumb down to signal it was the end of the road for Caracalla.

He took his wife by the hand and exited the balcony, choosing not staying to observe. Acacius and Lucilla followed behind. Aurelia couldn’t help but feeling sad for the entire event. While he was vile, Caracalla was easily led, but he was dangerous. She also couldn’t help but feel terribly sorry for her husband. It was his brother after all, and she could see that it pained him. But he was treasonous, and that was not permitted. Not in the slightest.

Aurelia knew of a secret, but it was not the right time to reveal it. She knew it would make her husband happy, but right now he had to grieve the loss of his best friend and brother. Aurelia knew she had to stand up to her duties, as a wife and Empress. She had to make sure Geta was her top priority, to help keep Rome in check, and ensure she kept herself well to ensure the future heirs of Rome inherit only the best traits to create a strong line to keep Rome alive.

[jrosa82fanfics]

Youthful Mistakes

BruJay Rated E has underage Bruce (age 15), second hand embarrassment via bad flirting, incest discussed but also batcest, and gratuitous thirsting over Jason. Smut is under the cut so feel free to read the first chunk cause it's sex free though heavy on the other stuff. *Warning Note: Bruce makes some hetero assumptions about himself that results in misgendering Jason (it's not malicious but just in case you're sensitive to that in any form...)

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When he opens his eyes, he doesn't realize that anything is wrong. He wakes up in his room and for a moment thinks it's the same one that he left behind. The decoration is the most obvious and first giveaway, from the items on his nightstand to the color of his bedsheets. Everything's just a little bit off.

He used to sleep with navy colored sheets, and instead he finds himself in pitch black ones. The items on his night's stand are different from the ones he left behind. And as if that isn't enough, they're placed oddly, in places he wouldn't want them. Like if he reached out he wouldn't be able to reach every single item, the way he usually would. The addition of a strangely out of place bottle doesn't make much sense either.

He doesn't know what to think of it and proceeds to get out of bed. The second his feet touch the slippers he knows that something is really wrong. At fifteen he considers himself quite grown up, but he knows that he wouldn't wear slippers two sizes too big. He looks around for his belongings. Before he allows panic to creep in he calls out for Alfred. If anyone can fix things it's his butler and only family member. 

“Master Bruce what's-” The man cuts himself off as he takes a look at his young ward.

He's surprised as well, not expecting the years of extra age on the other man's face as he walks in. Before they can really get into the details of what's going on, another voice comes through the door followed by a dark haired blue eyed man saunterring into the room.

“Hey B I know you-” he cuts himself off the way Alfred did, though his face shows much more of the shock he feels. 

Bruce doesn't know this strange man but he refuses to deal with the crazy situation while wearing pajamas.

“Why don't I meet you both downstairs to discuss things over breakfast?” He says the question coming out as more of a command.

Both men agree and when Bruce drags homeless into the bathroom he's just happy to find it doesn't look too different. He quickly gets ready and heads down the stairs, noting odd differences as he makes his way through the house. The thing that stands out is the rooms. Growing up most of the rooms were empty, and while many still are he noticed several in the family wing happened to be occupied.

He wonders what this could mean thinking it unlikely that so many strangers could invade his house overnight. When he arrives at the breakfast table he's shocked to find not only Alfred and the stranger from before but also a horde of other young adults. He quickly seats himself at the head of the table and begins his interrogation.

“ Who are you people? He asks.

The stranger from before starts. We're kind of your family. We don't know what happened to you but Bruce, our Bruce isn't a child.

“I’m not a child, I'm fifteen years old” he interrupts. 

“Fifteen, right,” the man says with a smirk on his face, “but he's significantly older than that. So I'm sure you can understand how bizarre it is for us all to see you like this.”

“Maybe we should tell him our names,” says a blonde girl in a bright purple sweater.She looks exhausted, though they all do now that he looks at them.

“Right, well I'm Dick,” the stranger- Dick- starts before going around the table. Bruce can't imagine having so many children and wonders where his wife is. Obviously some of the kids can't possibly be his biologically, the idea of having so many is just absurd. But either they're his step-children or he and his wife adopted them.

Before he can ask about the details Duke derails him by asking “ Okay but how does B get turned into a teen? I feel like we should have noticed that after patrol or heard him mention getting hit by magic or something.”

Dick gets a pensive look, before Tim pipes up “He was patrolling with Jay last night, anything could have happened while they were out.”

Bruce wonders what they're talking about and interrupts. “Wait, magic? Patrolling? What are you talking about? Am I a police officer or something?”

They all pause and look at one another before Damian explains. 

“ No father, obviously your dreams of becoming a crime-fighting vigilante have finally paid off. Here you are some twenty years into the future, and not only do you fight crime as Batman, you also have a team of mostly incompetent sidekicks, who are supporting you. Plus me, as I'm currently your Robin.”

Pandemonium erupts at the table as coffee is placed down and breakfast is forgotten. Everyone is shooting over one another about how they aren't incompetent or how bad someone else is. It's all a bit overwhelming, but Bruce figures that's what having a big family is like. He's never had one before, but he supposes all things considered, he got himself a pretty nice one. They're a fun bunch of people, although he can't imagine dealing with them on a daily basis.

He supposed having a wife to help calm them down makes things easier. Then he remembers the mysterious J they mentioned earlier. Could this perhaps be the wife he's looking for? After all Dick referred to him as B, so maybe that's just how they refer to their parents. They might not want to be going around calling them mom and dad, not comfortable yet as they're more recently adopted, he's not sure. But he figures, it doesn't hurt to ask about the woman's whereabouts.

“So where is J? Maybe that's where our answers lie.”

“Hard to say Jay likes to disappear and do whatever before showing back up on a whim,” Dick responds.

Bruce doesn't like the sound of such a flighty woman but he supposed she must have redeeming qualities. Before he can ask more questions a gorgeous man storms in. Bruce had never thought men were beautiful before, but the tall, broad shouldered man with green-blue eyes and black curly hair can only be described as beautiful. He feels his palms sweat and checks to make sure he isn't drooling as the man removes his leather jacket to reveal tight fitting gear that accentuates his muscular torso. Bruce is brought back to reality when the fork holding a bite of breakfast platters back onto the plate.

The man looks up and meets Bruce's eye before a look of surprise crosses his face. It's quickly gone as he asks “What the hell did you idiots do to B?”

The sound of his deep gravelly voice had heat in Bruce's chest expanding to cover his face. He can't imagine how he met such a dazzling man.

“Sorry I didn't catch your name? Who are you?”

“Oh, that's Jason. Like I said you were patrolling with him last night.”

Bruce can't believe his luck. This was the J they had spoken of. Before thinking about it too hard he asked “What's someone as gorgeous as you doing fighting crime?”

He wants the floor to open up and swallow him as the stupidest line he's ever heard comes out of his mouth. The rest of the table seems to feel the same as the sound of various people choking follows his question. Jason is lucky enough not to have anything to choke on, but he does turn a startling shade of red. Alfred on the other hand lets out a disapproving ‘Master Bruce’ at the comment.

“Do you not know who I am?” Jason finally asks as the table settles down a bit.

“My husband of course. I mean, why wouldn't I want to be married to someone so perfect. Besides our children made it clear that-”

“Actually B, we did no such thing” Dick interrupts at the look Jason sends him, “Jason not your husband he's your son.”

The words hit Bruce like a sucker punch. The horror of being attracted to his own flesh and blood causing revulsion to bubble up. He doesn't know what to do. He can't possibly back track, although he supposes not having made any salacious comments helps. What doesn't help is that he's still imagining what Jason would look like bare beneath him.

“I'm so sorry,” he says, not knowing if future Bruce feels the same way he does, but knowing that he doesn't want to ruin his own life like that.

“It's fine, you clearly didn't know and it's not like you hit on Damian or something.”

“Don't even joke about that Todd.” Damian calls out.

Bruce isn't sure if it's really fine, but brushes it off.

“Moving away from the traumatic moment, do you not remember anything from last night?” Duke asks Jason. 

“Nothing. We had a normal patrol then parted ways. No one even had a chance to use magic or some weird toxin on him.”

“I guess we'll have to run a few tests in the cave then,” says Dick. 

They all seem to silently agree and finish breakfast. For the next few hours Bruce gets to explore the Batcave while he waits for the results. After they find something in his system Dick and Tim immerse themselves in finding a cure. The others head to sleep and eventually swap places with Tim and Dick.

When Jason returns, so do Bruce's feelings of shame. The man is still as attractive as he had been that morning, and even in jeans and a t-shirt he looks like a model. Bruce tries his best to keep his eyes off the man but after being caught a few times looking Jason seems to lose patience and comes over.

“Look I get that this morning was awkward but if it helps I'm pretty sure you've seen everyone do something way more embarrassing. Also, we would have found something to tease you over regardless. So, if you want to be normal and just come join Steph and I, we promise we're not going to bite.”

Bruce tried his best to not stare at Jason's chest while he's talking but with their height difference all he can do is valiantly try to take in what Jason says as his chest moves with each breath he takes. 

“Y-yeah sounds good,” he manages to stutter out while making eye contact and then follows Jason towards the Batcomputer. Being behind him isn't helping his hard-on, as the man's perfectly sculpted ass is in perfect view as they walk.

Bruce feels like this is a punishment for something. Before long Jason stands to get a drink, and the second he's gone Steph speaks up.

“You really need to be less obvious about your feelings for him. This is a house full of detectives and You're going to be teased relentlessly, if you keep this up.”

“What are you talking about? I'm not- What do you even mean? I'm not being obvious.”

“Sure you were, I mean, first of all those comments this morning. Wow, I’ve never seen someone have so much audacity with so little knowledge. Not to mention the way you're practically drooling over Jay.”

“I'm not! He's my son so obviously I'm not interested.” He knows the indignation in his voice isn't really helping him, but he can't help but to lash out.

“Okay,” Stephanie says “first of all, he's not biologically your son, you just adopted him when he was like 13. So, it's not as bad as like, being interested in Damian or something.”

“Plus,” she continues “everyone knows Jason's liked you since forever, it's just that you're so unapproachable he's never bothered.”

Bruce feels significantly better at the knowledge that Jason isn't his flesh and blood, but doesn't like the way he's been described. Why would future Bruce be unapproachable? Wouldn't he want Jason to feel comfortable making a move.

He doesn't know what his deal is, but a plan to seduce Jason into a relationship begins forming.

‐--------------------------

Later that night they still haven't found a cure and have tried calling a magic user in to help. This Zatanna is unavailable though, which helps Bruce quite a bit. The group goes out patrolling while he stays in ‘watching a movie’. In reality he's preparing to get Jason to give him a chance.

The man had agreed to stay in the manor until Bruce is back to normal and Bruce is grateful to Stephanie for her support with that. She managed to get Jason to stay without having Bruce expose his interest. He understood why future Bruce liked her, her sneakiness was definitely endearing.

When Jason finally drags himself to his room Bruce is waiting for him. He was too nervous to do something bold like wait naked on the man's bed, but he did wait in a robe. It hung to his knees and was silky and black. He had researched how sex between two men worked, with Steph helping him figure out modern technology.

He hasn't been sure if Jason would want to bottom or not so he had just brought the lube he found in his nightstand and hoped he even got that far.

Jason entered shirtless and wearing only a pair of low hanging sweatpants. The sight of him had Bruce nervous of being rejected, but despite his trepidation he stayed awkwardly seated on the bed facing the door. Jason barely startled before asking “What the hell are you doing here?”

“I- Well I came to- to see if you might be interested? In spending the night with me?” Bruce wishes he could face-palm without making things worse. He had never stuttered as much as he had in the less than twenty-four hours that he had known Jason. He was starting to realize that future Bruce might be ‘unapproachable’ because he knew he wouldn’t be able to string a  single coherent sentence in Jason’s presence.

Despite he verbal blunder Jason seemed to consider his offer before saying, “Fuck it, I’ll probably never get the chance again.” With that he made his way over to the bed, gently pushed Bruce until he lay flat on his back, and then proceeded to kiss him breathless.

Bruce had kissed a few girls before, but the contrast of having a stubbled jaw and skilled technique made the experience something completely alien. He didn’t want to fuck his one shot up, and froze. Jason pulled back to check on him.

“If you’ve changed your mind we can stop.”

“No! It’s not that I just…”

“Is this your first time?” Jason looked a bit apprehensive so Bruce was quick to reassure.

“No, it’s just that I’ve only ever kissed girls. It’s just different and I got nervous.”

“If you're sure,” Jason said, his voice hesitant and skeptical but he still kissed Bruce again.

When their lips reunited Bruce was determined to use his limited knowledge to prove himself and began kissing back, making sure to not lay there stiff and motionless. 

The kissing continued as Jason crawled onto the bed, his bulk brushing but being laid fully on Bruce. While he liked the kissing Bruce figured he should encourage things along, making sure Jason knew he hadn’t changed his mind. He began by placing his hands on Jason’s waist, his fingers digging into the soft skin littered with scars.

As his hands shifted down to Jason’s hips he started dipping his fingers under the waistband of the sweats, dragging them down over the curve of Jason’s ass. He stopped for a moment just basking in the feeling of the flesh under his hands before fully pushing the pants down to Jason’s knees along with his underwear.

The man pulls back, quickly shucking off the clothes before opening Bruce’s robe. He feels a sudden spike of self-consciousness, unsure if his body compares to the one Jason knows, but in the end he has nothing to fear. The feeling of lips kissing down his chest soothes any insecurity away, and the bolt of arousal that having Jason nip at his inner thigh produces has him panting and writhing on the sheets.

He’s pushed further onto the bed as Jason climbs back on, and before he can get too distracted he pulls the bottle of lube from his robe pocket and throws the scrap of fabric off the bed in a ball.

“How do you want to do this?” he asks, knowing that regardless he’d enjoy every moment with Jason.

“Tempting as it would be to finally have you buried inside me, I think I’ll top this time. Older you might not be as willing to bottom if he gives me a second chance.”

“He sounds kinda boring.”

“Nah he’s just not comfortable with feeling vulnerable, and it’s hard not to understand his reason.”

“I can’t imagine not being able to trust you.”

“Yeah, well you don’t really know me.” This last statement seems to make Jason’s interest wane in their activities so Bruce is quick to pull him back into the moment.

He pulls Jason forward and presses their lips together in another kiss, “I don’t care what you’ve done, I know that what I feel for you is greater than that.” He knows the words sound hollow, but there’s this feeling in his chest that it’s true that somehow older him feels that way.

Regardless of whether he believes Bruce or not Jason seems to focus on the present as he continues their kissing and begins slicking up his fingers with the lube. Bruce is quick to arrange the pillows to get into the best position, his lips breaking away from Jason’s for a few moments. Finally he feels ready and with a nod of consent Jason places his fingers at his rim.

He assumes that the man will push in right away and tries his best to relax his body, which just makes him feel tighter and tenser in his perception. Instead he feels the digit circling his entrance, gently dipping in less than an inch and then pulling back out.

The feeling of something finally being pushed inside for the first time is startling but not painful. As the first finger becomes two then three, Bruce starts to relax and trust Jason to care for him. When he feels like he might come from the fingering alone Jason pulls out and lines himself up.

He drips more lube onto his palm and slathers his hard length with it before pushing in until his tip has breached Bruce’s rim. The thrust of Jason's cock head into his body has Bruce clawing the man's back and sides. It's rougher than Bruce expected but he can't feel anything other than completion as Jason bottoms out, the lube doing a great deal of the heavy lifting in terms of his comfort..

They kiss passionately as Bruce adjusts to the feeling of being full, then Jason begins thrusting shallowly. The movement has his chest, which is already pressed against Bruce's face, bouncing in the most titillating display.

He cups the man's tits, unable to stop himself from sticking the nipple of one into his mouth while his fingers pinched the other. The bud perked up into a sharp point, the skin becoming rosy as Jason thrust into the hilt and had Bruce seeing stars from how good it felt.

He knew Jason was hitting his prostate but the clinical knowledge that it would feel good was nothing compared to the reality. He doesn't remember releasing Jason's nipples, but he knows he must have as he throws his head back while coming. He comes back to himself with his arms wrapped around Jason's waist as the man keeps giving into him in brutal hard thrusts that have him whimpering in oversensitivity.

When Jason finally cums, the feeling of hot cum flooding his ass pushes Bruce over the edge and makes him cum a second time. He didn't think such a thing was possible, but as they lay in the afterglow Jason teases him over having a ‘dry orgasm’.

Bruce cuddles close to his Jason, not bothering to respond as he falls asleep, head pillowed on the man's plush chest.

When he wakes the memories of the previous day and more importantly the night before flood adult Bruce's mind. He lays across Jason's chest, the man's warm arms wrapped around his waist. He wonders if he should get up and face the music but decides that he can deal with the consequences later.

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Later comes far too soon for Bruce’s liking as Dick, of all people, storms in frantically searching for Bruce. He freezes at the sight of him returned to his adult self and then quickly back pedals out sensing that he doesn’t want anything to do with what’s about to unfold. Dick’s entrance after all has woken Jason.

The look of confusion on the man’s face turns to mild alarm at the realization of just who he’s wrapped like an octopus around. Before he can freak out and shove Bruce away, Bruce speaks.

“I’m not mad about yesterday. And yes I remember what happened last night so you don’t have to worry.”

“Are you sure? Because it feels like I took advantage-”

“No, of course not. I’ve…” Bruce remembers his thought from the previous night about how hard speaking around Jason can be at times and reflects that he’ll need to improve on that. Well that and talking about feelings.

He figures he can only win one battle at a time so he stumbles his way through a confession of feelings.

“I uh know that our relationship has been strained or complicated but I, well the truth is that a lot of that is my fault-”

“A lot? How about all of it!” Jason interrupts.

Bruce glares at him before replying “It’s hard enough to talk about feelings without being interrupted. So if you could shut up for five minutes I’ll finish my love confession and you can yell at me about my flaws.”

“Now,” he continues after his mini-rant “as I was saying I-”

Jason interrupts him again, although he finds himself hard pressed to care as he’s kissed until he can barely breathe and then fucked into the mattress for the second time in the last twelve hours. As they lay in the afterglow he wonders if he can get a third round to finally have Jason riding him, it had been a fantasy of his for the last few weeks after all.

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Thank you to anyone who read this, I hope you enjoyed. Feel free to let me know if I forgot a warning, misspelled something etc. because today's been rough and my writing is taking the brunt of that.

Take care,

<3<3 J

PS: Want more content from me? I update this blog every Monday at 6pm EST and have 1 complete fic here and a second in progress (plus a few one-shots). My posts are queued so even if RL gets busy you will get updates.

NOW has a part 2:

[wonder-worker]

"Any assessment of the emotional component of the reconciliation of [Empress Matilda and Geoffrey of Anjou] remains speculation: the chroniclers are silent on the issue of whether [they] grew to love, hate, or like each other. We do know, from their movements and actions, that Matilda and Geoffrey eventually arrived at a businesslike arrangement with a united viewpoint toward the dynastic, geopolitical goals that had dictated their marriage in the first place."

"Matilda and Geoffrey effectively transitioned from a Divide and Rule model to a Collaborative Union from 1144 onwards, in which they worked together throughout their marriage to ensure rulership over their territories and gained their rightful lands, as well as ensuring the inheritance for their children. Matilda and Geoffrey’s political partnership can effectively be argued as the most successful through applying different models of rulership. Ultimately the Plantagenets regained Matilda’s inheritance through Henry, conquered Normandy, and produced several male heirs."

Charles Beem, The Lioness Roared: The Problems of Female Rule in English History / Gabrielle Storey, Co-Rulership, Co-operation and Competition: Queenship in the Angevin Domains, 1135-1230

[notedchampagne]

no i get why ppl were pissed about the fanon davekat content before because when i look at sakuatsu and seriei content now im shocked at literally the exact same dynamics repurposed for characters with different personalities.

i do get that people have a taste for certain tropes and dynamics but there is a difference between headcanons and interpretations that influence a certain perception of a character due to personal tastes and like, reducing complex and meaningful characters down to their most consumable archetypes to mass produce another artwork of twinks kissing

[fushitoru]

rainy days and brownies

pairing ⸺ college/modern!au: bf!gojo x reader

summary ⸺ you wake up for some soft moments with your boyfriend that involves brownies (turned freaky)

warnings ⸺ smut, tooth rotting fluff, some mild angst?, gojo unfortunately mentions skibidi toilet, I think I made gojo gen z here, boob worship, brownies and baking, established relationship, oral (f!receiving), gojo eats pussy like a champ, NOT EDITED, might be incoherent to everyone except me, product of a forceful effort to escape writer’s block, rainy mornings <3, lots of intimacy, art by 3-aem, probably in the same universe as this

general masterlist

Rainy mornings with Satoru means baking.

It’s a ritual the both of you have fallen into. On a day like this, where the air smells like rain, you blearily wake up from your nap to smell the warm distinct aroma of overly sweet brownies.

The slutty brownies were Satoru’s masterpiece. Even if he did overdo the sugar, you can’t admit that your stomach was growling as you rubbed your bleary eyes and frowned while raking a hand through your head. This bed head was going to be a bitch to untangle with the hairbrush.

“AND IIIIIIIIIIIII, WILL ALWAYS LOVE YOUUU—“

You jumped, caught off guard by Satoru randomly deciding to pay homage to Whitney Houston. Standing up, you headed towards the living room of you and Satoru’s apartment—-not before you adjusted your tank top so your tits weren’t out and the boy shorts you chose to sleep in properly covered your ass.

“WILL ALWAYS LOVE YOUUUUU—-“ You cringed at Satoru’s attempt of a high note, grumpily looking at him use his chocolate covered spatula as a makeshift mic. He was in the kitchen—-shirtless, of course—-now bending over to peek at the state of his brownies in the oven. Deciding the brownies weren’t done yet, he closed the oven door and stood up once more, reaching for his phone to undoubtedly scroll through TikTok. Continuing to hum different variations of the chorus, he swiped at his phone, ignorant to your presence behind him.

You think he’s kind of sweet like this. If it weren’t for him, the both of you would never be in this position. You would always be the cold frigid bitch he saw in freshman orientation and occasionally at parties across campus, and he would be the sweet, friendly guy that all the girls would continue to fall head over heels for.

To be honest, you don’t really see what he sees in you. You’re like a Disney villain, the witch that entraps him in her webs of insecurity and jealousy, but he remains the valiant prince, fighting to get to you. When he finally has you in his arms, he kisses you into believing that you are his princess instead.

It’s obvious in the way he fought for you—memorizing your schedule, rushing across campus just to walk you to class, pleading with you to grab dinner. And each time, you’d brush him off with sharp rejections, finding excuses to keep him at arm’s length.

But when he finally had you, finally cracked all your defenses—he was never going to let you go. You could see as much; the way he proudly walked on campus with you at his side, across the main quad so he could boast that he got you. You were his, and he was fully, undoubtedly yours. At parties, his eyes would always be on you, raking his eyes up and down your figure in your nurse outfit, conjuring up the hundred and thirty four positions he would fuck you so good in, even if there were prettier girls clinging onto his arms asking for a morsel of his attention. Pettily enough, you would just need to sigh and mumble “This party isn’t fun,” to have Satoru whipped, ushering you out of the frat house while those girls glared at the back of your Halloween costume, angry beyond measure that a nobody like you has the campus sweetheart wrapped around your finger.

Loud booms of the Vine gunshot sound effect snaps you back into the present, where Satoru is snickering at some god awful brain rot. You choose to approach him, wrapping your arms around his waist and smothering your face into his muscular back.

“Hi baby,” you mumble.

“Guess which sleepyhead is awake!” He announces to the world and turns around, and your traitorous heart jumps in its chest while looking into his eyes. It’s stupid. You’re both in your PJs on a morning where the rain thuds against the window pane, blurring both the window and all outside life, suspending you both in this moment. His eyes look affectionately down to you, and he plants a wet kiss on your forehead. “How was your nap, baby?”

“It was good.” You watch him turn around again to peek at the oven, and he hums, upper arm flexing as he grabs the heavy bag of flour, dragging it closer to him. “When’d you get up?”

“Around 7.”

You shoot him a bewildered look as you hop onto the counter, a better space to observe your boyfriend. When he realized that you had woken up, he had left his phone open to give you a kiss, reel playing noises. You peek over and almost snort at what is playing.

“Satoru, why are you watching alligators get chased away by a shovel?”

He looks up from the bowl of brownie batter he was now cleaning—-with his tongue, mind you—-and grins boyishly. “Isn't it crazy how hundreds of years of evolution get destroyed by a shovel?”

”Your feed is not normal,” you shake your head, keeping a stony face as you continue to scroll through his TikTok. In fact, it’s hilarious—-the things he got were weirder than one could dream, with toilets producing heads of men taking over whole cities. You’re not sure what that means about your boyfriend, but you accept it as you watch the nonsensical video.

“Wait,” he makes his way over to you, standing in between your legs. “Is that skibidi toilet?”

“What the hell is that.”

“Baby,” he whines. “You don’t know the lore? I don’t know if I can be with you for any longer.”

Your bite back a grin. “And subjecting me to hours of FNAF backstory wasn’t testament to how much I love you?”

Before he could whine back, you noticed he had some leftover chocolate on the side of his mouth and leaned over to lick it. Humming at the taste, you grabbed his hands and took in his brownie coated index and middle finger into your mouth.

He frowns. “Are you trying to seduce me into forgiving you and giving you more brownies?”

You laugh softly and give him a soft smooch on his shoulder. “No, silly. If I ate any more than half, I would have diabetes.”

He grabs the back of your hips and pulls you closer into him, nuzzling his nose against yours. The physical contact rubs at your nerves the right way, firing off that emotional part of you that makes you think loving him is so easy. How lucky you are that he’s chosen to give you his love.

His god-awful alarm blares—same annoying sound he keeps hitting snooze on for his 7ams—and the moment breaks as he reaches for the oven mitts to pull out the brownies. The aroma hits you instantly, making your mouth water. Satoru blows dramatically on the brownies, pouting and mock-yelling, “Hurry up and cool down! My girlfriend wants to eat you.” You can’t help but giggle. Once Satoru finally decides they’re cool enough, he grabs one and offers it to you. “Make way for the choo-choo train!” he snickers, guiding the brownie through imaginary tracks, a shit-eating grin on his face, before plopping it into your mouth.

You can’t help but let out a soft sigh as the brownie melts on your tongue, its warmth enveloping your senses. Rich, velvety tones of chocolate overwhelm your mouth, with each bite releasing a symphony of deep, indulgent flavors that linger long after the brownie is fully swallowed. “Wow, this is actually good.”

He pauses, brownie and hand held in mid air. “Why do you sound surprised?”

“I don’t know.” You shrug innocently but stick your tongue out to him regardless.

Popping the brownie in his mouth--but not before sending you a pout---he brushes his hands together to remove the brownie crumbs as he makes his way back in between your legs. The way he settles between them makes you all too aware of the heat of his groin encompassing you. He lazily drags his eyes up your figure, but not before settling on your outfit. His eyes then flick down to watch his hands trace the hem of your tank top, and your eyes follow his hands, a little dizzy by the action.

You’re always a bit sensitive in the mornings, and before this day, you and Satoru’s interactions have been limited to a kiss before he runs for his 7am and then doing college work until 3am, where you’re both too tired for anything particularly frisky. So, yea, you are kind of pent up---and judging by the bulge that’s starting to form in Satoru’s sweats, you assume he is too.

You put your elbows on his shoulder blades to give him head scratches from behind and lean towards his jawlines giving small kisses. You can feel him close his eyes, purring silently like a cat, and underneath your hands, his back and shoulder blades tense and relax as you rake your hands over his scalp.

“This new?” He uses his index finger to snap the strap of your tank top against your shoulder, using his mouth to given open mouthed kisses to your collarbone.

“Mhm,” you hum, a little deliriously at that---he’s begun to trail down, mouth working at the swell of your breasts.

He slowly pulls the collar of your tank down, down down down until your breast pops out. His eyes trace the swing urgently and groans. “I missed these, sweet girl.”

You gasp sharply when he puts it in his mouth, tongue swirling around the nipple. Satoru’s always been a boob guy, joking about his hands being your bra to support “those mommy milkers.” Right now, he’s doing just that; groping the hell out of them and giving them kisses, as if they were God’s greatest creation.

As much as you were enjoying your boyfriend’s boob worshipping, you need more. You were throbbing in want of contact on your pussy, and you made sure to relay just that. “Toru, I need more,” you whined.

“God forbid a man appreciate nice boobs.” He rolls his like the sassy man he is and parts with your nipple like lips after a messy and wet make out session. Your breasts are gleaming with his spit, a string connecting your nipple to his lips. He trails his face down your torso, making his way down to his knees until he was facing your crotch.

You whine and clench your thighs together to draw his face closer to the space between your thighs. He looks up at you and coos, giving your inner thigh a kiss. “I can smell you from here, cutie.”

His statement reminds you that you’re not too wet in the mornings. As soon as you wake up, some of your morning sessions with Satoru require the aid of lube to ensure no pain. Irritation flares at you at the thought that you might need to leave your position to grab some l—-

Oh.

“What the hell. I thought you wet your pants,” Satoru giggles. The finger running through your folds glides messily, as you both marvel to how wet you are. You’re also on another plane; you haven’t felt his touch for weeks, and the feeling overwhelms you as the squelches your pussy makes echo throughout the kitchen.

Satoru gives you a kiss on your neck. “Baby, can I?” You deliriously remember that he’s lightly circling his finger around your entrance and when you finally give him the okay, he pushes in.

Both of you groan at how tight you are. “Satoru,” you moan and proceed to bring him in for a kiss as he pistons in and out of your pussy, curling them just the way you like and making you see colors.

“Pretty, pretty girl,” he groans. “Left my baby so pent up.”

At that, all you can do is nod and whimper in agreement. All that leaves your mouth are gasps of his names and oh my god’s because he’s making you feel so good.

And then, you almost scream as you feel him blowing hot air onto your folds, leaning down to give teasing kitten licks around your clit, but not directly on it. His tongue drags up and down until he finally stops it right next to your clit as if feeling the sensation of your pussy throbbing, echoing your fastened heartbeat skin-to-skin while drooling.

Frustrated, you try to move your hips, but Satoru grabs them to stay in place. He’s so close to the place you want him, but he’s stationed in one place, spit flowing down as his tongue is still and his dark eyes are staring at you as if enraptured by your struggling.

“Satoru, please lick my clit,” you moan wantonly, begging for him to change his position.

But Satoru Gojo wouldn’t be Satoru Gojo without some teasing. “What was that, baby? Avoid your clit? You got it.”

“No,” you sobbed, grabbing onto his hair and directing his tongue to your clit. This time, he relents, sucking the bud into his mouth and hollowing his cheeks, making you see stars.

But soon, his quick and fast lapping turn into lazy licks, and you get frustrated, grinding against air and pussy oozing out wetness as Satoru keeps his tongue outstretched in front of you but not close enough to make contact with your skin, teasing. You hate the feeling of your pussy throbbing and the inner thighs and pussy wet with your slick, lacking the sensation you needed to finally climax. “Oh my god, Satoru, please make me cum.”

“I don’t know baby, you sound pretty commanding to me.” The motherfucker shrugs as if he has nothing to do with your dilemma and starts trailing kisses up your inner thigh. His touches were close to where you needed him most, making you ache for the sensation of his wet laps against you.

“Please, baby,” you beg. “You feel so good, you’re making me feel soo good. I love you so much. Please let me cum.” You’re full on sobbing, hips writhing to get any sensation in.

Satoru, at your display, seems to give in, because he’s coming in once more, giving you a sweet little kiss on your clit. You nearly ascend.

He’s diving in, making a rhythm of dipping his tongue into your entrance and coming back to give sloppily wet laps on your clit. It’s when he groans while his tongue is inside, hot air and vibrations needily simulating your clit, that you come up with a gasp. You roll your hips, Satoru giving you little licks to help you ride out your orgasm.

For how hard you came, you’re bucking your hips frantically, body on a mind of its own as you almost fall off the counter. Satoru has to grip your thighs to prevent that potential injury and rubs soothing circles on the outside of your thigh as you pant, wetness and sweat likely painting the counter beneath you. It’s not until your breath returns back to it’s normal pace that you notice Satoru’s head against your thighs, looking up at you with lovesick eyes.

You’re probably giving him the same look back, you realize, given he made you ascend to heaven and back. He gives an affectionate kiss to your mound, moaning corny shit like “Your pussy tastes sweeter than the brownie.”

And then he stands up, knees popping on the way back up, and despite your fucked out state, you can’t help but giggle. “You old man with the popping knee caps.”

He glares at you playfully, but you know his expression too well to know there’s no real offense in it. “Hey. Rude to say that after I just made you cum your brains out.”

”And you’re about to get the same thing,” you purr, putting a hand on his hard-on. He hisses but looks at you with lust blown eyes as he grabs the back of your thighs to carry you to your shared bedroom.

Yes, rainy days do mean baking with Satoru, but not without intimacy with your even sweeter boyfriend in bed.

general masterlist

comment or reblog to let me know your thoughts! I appreciate all of them <3

a/n lol this was a bitch to write. this might be a word soup or salad or whatever for all readers and that’s ok! I’ve written this primarily at 1am so…

eugh ok im going back to writing ch5 of bridgerton!gojo and fixing the em dashes in this post when i wake up LOL

[loverslodge]

my bidder

summery: your parents have treated you like a show piece which Bucky hated. but what crossed the limit was when your parents hold you up for an auction without telling you.

pairing: dbf!bucky barnes x sub!reader

warnings: angst, fluff, SMUT, some plot but mostly smut, auctioning off a person, loss of virginity, panic attack mention, isolation mentioned, age gap (bucky is in his late 30s and reader is late 20s), use of nicknames (princess and baby), dom!bucky but no BDSM (because i don't know how to write it)

A/N: i love me some dad's best friend and especially Bucky. and seeing him in suit in thunderbolts is sending shivers down my spine.

James Buchanan Barnes was a bad man.

At least that's what he thought every time he saw you.

You were all he could think about every time your father was present in the room. Mostly because your father won't stop talking about you.

Your father had a tendency to show you off for his benefit and it irked Bucky greatly. You weren't something to be put in a glass jar but your father did just that. Your mom was no less. She too supported her husband on every decision he made about you and your life.

Bucky had seen you become trapped in your room because everything got too overwhelming. You had turned from a shy kid to a wallflower. That made Bucky overly protective of you. Every time your parents paraded you and your achievements around, Bucky would always cling on to you, trying to comfort you from a distance.

It was just another big party in the y/l/n household. You were forced to dress in white satin gown and were adorned with pearls. They had made you look like a virgin doll. They had their reasons for that, of course, but they hadn't told you anything about it. It's not like this was the first time you were being pushed into the unknown.

The room started to fill up and you started to notice that the room was filled with male guests. Occasional female guests but they all looked like escorts.

You shuddered with a bad feeling and slowly stepped in the shadows. A small yelp left your lips as you crashed into someone. Before you could scramble up and leave, you felt a metal hand steady your very open back.

“Bucky?”

“Hey, princess. You hiding again?” He chuckled at your jumpiness when someone walked too close. He pulled you closer. This was wrong. So wrong but you felt so right in his arms.

“Something doesn't feel right about tonight. I'm way too dressed up for this.” You always felt comfortable in Bucky’s arms but you never said anything. Why? Because you weren't allowed to think or say anything on your own.

Bucky was looking gorgeous in his black tux. His hair was slicked back and he smelled devine. His eyes held the same softness you had become used to over the few years. But you shouldn't think about this. It was wrong. He was your father’s best friend. You shouldn't let your mind take his kindness as something more.

“You look beautiful, princess.”

That nickname. He gave that to you when you met him the first day. You were dressed in your pink pjs and your hair was tied in a loose braid. You were about to go to bed but went down to the kitchen to get some water.

He was nursing a drink when you came across him. He figured you were the daughter and you knew he was the new friend your father had made. He got up from his seat and walked closer to you to introduce himself. He looked so much larger than you. To him you looked adorable and innocent, but locked up in a house. Since that day, he had been calling you ‘princess’ because your cheeks always tinted pink when he did.

“You look beautiful too, Bucky.” You whispered loud enough for him to hear you.

“Why do you look more panicked than usual, princess? Did someone say something to you?” He brought his flesh hand and stroked your back gently to calm you.

“No. That's the thing. Nobody is telling me anything. I don't know what today is about. And there are so many male guests. It's making me uncomfortable.”

“Wait, so you have absolutely no idea how today’s fundraiser is going to go?” Bucky’s eyebrows scrunched in concern. Something was definitely not right now.

You shook your head and looked at Bucky to give you answers. Your innocent eyes were calling to him but before he could tell you what's going on, your mother’s voice rang on the mic and your name was called.

Bucky reluctantly saw you walk away and you kept on glancing back at him. His eyes were filled with worry and you knew something wrong was going to happen.

Bucky sat down at his table near the stage where the auction was about to begin. He thought about why you weren't told about this but he wanted his thoughts to be proven wrong. Surely your parents weren't that power hungry.

All the women you had noticed were called on stage one by one and were being auctioned off. Your heart racing off the charts and you kept on glancing at Bucky from behind the curtains. He hadn't put in a price at any of them. You were relieved by that but terrified about you being put beside all these women.

Soon all the women in front of you were auctioned off.

“And now, a very special someone. She carries all of my pride with her.” Your father began your introduction and you smoothened your dress, trying to look brave.

Bucky felt like he was staring at the devil. How could your own father auction you off to all these sleazy men out here? His biggest fear of tonight was coming to light. He had been meaning to save you from this prison for a while and your father had just given him the reason to drag you away, even if it cost him a few hundred thousand bucks.

“Please welcome my daughter, Y/N! Her bidding starts at…”

You were now standing in front of all these… eyes. You felt cheap. You felt like a whore. Your parents had officially become vultures to you. Tears were streaming down your face as you stood on the stage. Nobody cared about that.

Because the spotlight was on you, you couldn't see who was bidding on you. But as the numbers went higher, the cheaper you felt. Till everything came to a standstill and you saw someone walk up to the stage.

“Come on, baby. Let's get going.” Bucky’s voice tore through the hooting and booing of the crowd.

You gasped in shock but you walked to him anyway. At least he made you feel safer. He wrapped one hand around your waist and the other around your legs and lifted you like a sack on his shoulder.

You refused to meet your parents’ eyes as you were carried out of the room where another round of hooting erupted.

Bucky walked straight to your room, not bothering to stop anywhere else. When you both reached the door to your room, he slowly lowered you down. You were a crying mess but at least now you were safe.

“Come on, princess. Let's go in.” Bucky nudged your back a little.

“B-b-but that's my room.” You cowered.

“Princess, listen. If you open your door and invite me in, only then will I step into your safe space. Also, I cannot talk about anything out here. There are ears everywhere.” He caressed your hair to calm you down. He brought out his handkerchief and cleaned your face a little to make you feel more calm.

You nodded and opened the door to your room and stepped in with Bucky in tow. As soon as you stepped in the room, he closed the door shut. You panicked. Was he going to do something? This is not how you pictured to spend time with the man you had fallen in love with.

“Princess, don't worry. I didn't close, just shut the door for a little privacy. Now, pack your bags. I'm taking you home with me.”

“Wh-what?”

You were shocked by his revelation. Anywhere would be better than here with your parents but you were not ready, were you? You really were a princess and anywhere else felt… scary.

“I'm not letting you stay here a minute longer. Showing off your achievements was different but auctioning you off is fucked up.” Bucky dragged out your big suitcase and started stuffing all your comfy clothes in it.

“Bucky, wait, stop! What are you doing?” You hold his hand and pull him to face you.

“I am getting you out of here. Did you know what was going on down there? Teh auction? It wasn't just for the money. Those were… i cant believe your father… he was selling you off to the highest bidder. You would have been ruined by now! You weren't going to be returned if someone else had taken you!”

Bucky closed your suitcase after emptying more than half of your room. He was frustrated. He ran his hand on his hair and started dragging your suitcase out of the room.

“Wait, Bucky! We can’t- you can't just take me with you! That's- you're my father’s best friend.”

“I can.” He holds your jaw in his hand, softly but with authority. “I paid for you, princess. This is my one and only way of saving you from all of this.”

“Why do you want to save me, Bucky?” Your voice faltered. Your face was very close to his.

“Because, my dear Princess, you belong to me now. I've had my sights on you for a really long time and now I get to have you the way I want.” Bucky pecked your lips and held your hand to pull you to his car that was parked right outside the door.

………………………..

You stepped in the Barnes Manor and looked at the grandeur of everything around you. You didn't expect Bucky to be so… materialistic.

“Not everything is mine. My ex wife was way too much into these things. Been trying to get rid of things but i don't know how or where to start.” Bucky looked at you as if he could read your thoughts.

He asked you to follow him and he took you to an empty room. It looked like an empty canvas. Bucky’s men dropped off your bags in the room and left, closing the door behind them.

“Umm… Bucky… How will you have me?” Your whispered voice bounced against the room walls, making Bucky take a sharp turn at you.

“What?” He was flabbergasted.

“Well, you, uh, paid for me. So, you get to have me, right? That's what the auction was about?” You were fidgeting, looking down at your shoes.

“Is that what you think?” Bucky walked closer to you. “That I brought you here to have my way with you?” Bucky cupped your face and made you look up. “Princess, I brought you here because I am not letting someone else have you, not because I want you.”

“So… you don't want me?” Seeing him this close was bringing back those burning desires you have always felt for him.

Seeing your pout and hearing your question, stirred the buried desire in Bucky back to life. If he could, he would've taken you right there in your bedroom but he held on to the one thread of decency.

“Don't say it like that, princess.” There was barely any space between yours and his lips. “I want you so bad, baby, but it's wrong. You're my best friend’s daughter.”

Your eyes fall on his lips, refusing to waver. “You're right. This is very wrong.” You curled your fist around his blazer pulling him slightly closer.

“Princess…” Bucky warned you.

“Yes, sir?” The designation just slipped out.

Bucky lost all his control. He grabbed your face and crashed his lips on yours. His tongue slipped in your mouth as you moaned in the kiss. Your hand snaked around his neck and forced his face closer to yours. You bit his lower lip that made him groan.

He walked forward without breaking the kiss till you both hit the edge of the bed. He pushed you on the bed gently and hovered over you, taking your lips back on his. He kept on pushing you back till you were in the middle of the bed, all tangled up in him.

His lips moved on every inch of your face, kissing and then moved down to your neck, making you moan louder. He nipped at your skin and kissed down your valley before moving back up to your lips.

“Please, sir.” You were begging so prettily. With perfectly swollen lips and dazed eyes, you looked every way ready to be fucked.

“Princess, are you sure? This is your first time.” Bucky caressed your cheeks.

“Yes, sir. Have me. I'm ready. Please fuck me. Please.” You fumbled with Bucky’s shirt buttons.

“Ok ok.” Bucky chuckled, looking at your impatience. “We've got to get you out of that beautiful dress first and then we will remove my suit, okay? And then if you still feel ready, i will fuck you.”

You scrambled up to your feet and tried to find the zipper of the dress to take it off, without trying to tear it. You pouted at Bucky who was looking at your struggle with an amused face.

“Alright. Let me help you. You'll be patient, yes?”

You nodded enthusiastically and stood still like the good girl you want to be for him. He moved you around and zipped down your dress and gently, it fell down at your foot, leaving you exposed. All you were wearing was white underwear since there was no way you could've been able to wear a bra in that dress.

“Wow, princess, you are even more gorgeous than I had imagined.” Bucky gently cupped your boobs and thumbs your nipples, making you push yourself on to him.

“You, you imagined me?” You look at him with wide eyes. You had never expected the man of your dreams doing the same thing you've been doing.

“Of course, baby. Why do you think it was so easy for you to let me kiss you?” Bucky started unbuttoning his shirt. Soon, he was standing in front of you, very, very naked.

You had wanted to cover yourself up but you were so distracted by him, his hands and then his large cock that until he held your hand and guided you back to bed, you were unaware about everything else.

“So, one last time, do you want to go to sleep or do you still want to continue?”

Bucky was ready to pull on the comforter and go to sleep naked beside you. He could relieve himself in the bathroom. He didn't want to put any pressure on you.

“Please, sir. Fuck me.”

Bucky wasted no time in tearing away your underwear and situating himself in between your legs.

“Now, I'm going to have to open you up for me. You still have a chance to say no. After I'm done using my fingers on you, if you feel you've had enough, tell me and we stop.”

Bucky was impatient to have you around his cock but he wasn't going to make you feel like you had to. He actually thought he didn't need to prepare you for seeing how wet and dripping you were for him. But he wanted your first time to be easy, as easy as he could make it for you.

“Pay attention to this, princess. I will go easy but we will use safewords. We will use traffic signals. Green is for good, yellow is to pause or slow down and red is to stop completely. Tell me, which are the safewords? I want to hear them from you.”

“Green is for good, yellow is for pause and red is for stop.” You repeated like a diligent student.

“My good girl. Now, I will be inserting my fingers in you. If you feel uncomfortable, use the safewords. Do you understand?” Bucky started stroking your petals with his fingers, very slowly.

Your breath hitched and you nodded eagerly, excited to see and feel what Bucky would do to you. But he stopped stroking and looked with disapproval. “Use your words, princess. Do you understand?”

“Yes I understand, sir. Please don't stop.” Your breathy reply gave Bucky the satisfaction and he started stroking your petals again, spreading the wetness all around.

Bucky decided not to make you beg so much and very slowly inserted his first metal finger in. you whimpered and gasped at the new intrusion. You cover your mouth with your hands and turn your face, trying to subside the noises coming out from you.

“Look at you, taking my fingers so well. So fucking beautful and tight, writhing under me. I haven't even put my cock in yet.”

Bucky was able slide his second finger just as easily because of how turned on you were. He increased his pace and you mewled under him. He tsked at you trying to hide your voices and so he brought his other hand over to your clit and rubbed it, making you move your hands from your mouth to grip the sheet under you.

“I knew I could get you to remove your hands. You sound so fucking amazing, princess.”

“Oh god! I'm gonna- Bucky! Please, sir. I'm going to-” You were struggling to get the words out without moaning in between.

“Cum for me, princess. Drench my fingers.”

And you did just that. His ministrations led to your cum spurting out on his metal hand that kept on moving in and out of you, making you ride your orgasm. When you came down from your high, he pulled his fingers out, licking them clean, making you wetter than you already were. A small moan escaped your lips, seeing him enjoying your juice.

“You like seeing me enjoy your juice, don't you?” Bucky chuckled at your squirming reaction. He was still sitting between your legs, you being completely exposed to him.

You nodded with blush heavily creeping on your face.

Bucky leaned down and kissed you deeply, making you taste yourself. Your hands rested on his biceps as he sat back up. “What's your color, princess?”

“It's green, sir.”

“Good girl. Now, do you want my cock in you?”

“Yes sir.” Bucky pulled out a condom from the drawer beside the bed and put on the rubber. You looked intently at his actions, learning how to do it when next time you get to have Bucky.

Bucky pecked you on the lips again and aligned himself against your folds. You gasped at the new sensation. Bucky faltered a little. He was about to pull away but you held onto his bicep tighter and pulled him back.

“It's green, sir. I will tell you if I want to stop. So please don't stop. I want you so bad.”

“You beg so pretty, princess. How can I say no to you?”

Bucky pushed his cock furthur in you and just as he was completely in you, your back arched, letting out a lazy moan and a hiss from your throat. Bucky groaned as he felt you tighten around him.

“Fuck, princess. You're strangling me.”

You mewled as he began to move. In and out. The motion was simple but the feeling building inside of you wasn't.

“Been wanting you for so long, sir.” A strangled cry from your mouth cut you off as he pushed himself deeper. “Been thinking only about you.”

Bucky groaned at your confession and his speed increased, making your back arch again with a sudden loud moan. “My princess. All mine, aren't you?”

A garbled moan left you before you could form a full sentence. “All.. yours… sir…”

“Please go faster, sir.” You dug your nails in his bicep.

“No, I don't want to hurt you.” His voice strained. He was holding himself back and you knew that.

“You will never hurt me, sir. Please go faster. Don't hold back.”

Hearing you affirm that you're okay, Bucky pressed himself on you and put his arms under you. Your arms held onto his back and your nails dug and dragged on his back, leaving marks as he increased his thrusting.

“Oh god! Sir! Don't stop. So good!”

“Not stopping, princess. Never stopping. I could just keep on going like this.”

You mewled and whimpered at every thrust and he tightened his hold around you. Your nipples brushed against his and he moved his metal hand from under you to hold your nipple. He turned and twisted them, making you cry out in pleasure.

Bucky put his mouth on your boobs and sucked hard on your nipples, sending waves of pleasure to your folds. His relentless thrusting just added more to what you have been holding on to. The knot in your stomach tightened, sending a familiar shiver down your back.

“Sir, i’m-”

“Cum my princess, you've been good. Cum for me.”

Bucky sped up his thrusting and you arched against him as you found your release. He kept on thrusting through your orgasm, finally finding a release in you. Your pussy had tightened its hold on him and milked him so well. He kept on murmuring praises in your ear as his thrusting faltered and he stayed still.

“Are you ok, princess?” Bucky shifted and pulled out of you. You whined at the loss but were too fucked out to move. “Use your words, baby.”

“I'm ok. I'm more than ok.” You gave him a dazed smile that made him chuckle.

He stood up from the bed and carried you to the bathroom and helped you clean up. He filled the tub with warm water and sat you in the tub and settled behind you. He pulled you flush against his chest and you rested your head on his shoulder.

“Will you send me back? Now that you got what you paid for?” Your small voice clenched his heart.

“I didnt pay to fuck you, princess. I paid to get you out of that house. Having you in my bed, naked, wanting, is just a perk.” Bucky kissed your cheek and pulled you even closer. “I am not sending you anywhere, princess. You belong to me now. The moment you stepped in my house, you were mine. And now that I've had your taste, I'm not going back.”

“So,” you fiddled with your fingers. “If I belong to you, if I am yours, then does that mean you belong to me too? Does that mean you're mine too?”

“Yes, princess. I am all yours.” Bucky kissed your shoulder and then pulled you in a sweet kiss.

You both get up from the tub and Bucky dried you with a fluffy towel. He put one of his old t-shirts on you and a pair of his old breezy boxers that had gotten too tight because of his thighs. He wore one of his joggers and an old tank.

You both slipped in bed and he pulled you flushed against him. You sighed deeply and closed your eyes as the tiring activities were taking over you. But then you had a thought and your eyes popped open. You sat up on the bed, startling Bucky.

“What about dad? He… won't he ask you to return me? What will we do? He'll be pissed. He will cut me off. I have nowhere else to go. I think I should go back.”

Bucky sat up and cupped your face, making you look at him. The panicked look in your eyes made him want to tuck you closer to him but it wasn't going to work. He needed to calm you.

“Princess, look at me. What did I say about you being here?”

“That I belong to you and I'm yours.” your voice turned smaller.

“Exactly. So don't worry about your father at all. I'm here. I will handle everything. And you are not leaving this house. This is yours just as much as mine. Understood?” Bucky caressed your cheeks to calm you down.

“Yes. Understood.” You moved closer to Bucky who pulled you further into his embrace.

“Good girl. Now get some sleep.” He pulled you back on bed and kissed your forehead as you snuggled closer into his arms.

Bucky knew it would cost something to have you in his arms but he also knew that once he had you, he would pay the price but never let you go.

[kmuradesu]

.‘ENTITLED’.

husband!gojo x pregnantwife!reader (afab)

» summary: leaving the busy streets of Sendai city back to its outskirts, the two of you got a bus. there aren’t any seats available, and being pregnant meant being able to sit in the priority seats. looks like they’re taken.

» CW: pregnancy, exhaustion, mentions of jizz, bus ride, stubborn civilian, teeny-weeny angst if you squint, protective satoru, threats, all happy, no swears, not proofread!

» a/n: this has been sat incomplete in my drafts for a month, only until now I’ve motivated myself to finish it (lmao). I don’t know what it is, but I love pregnancy fics with jjk.

———————————————————————

After a slow-paced stroll through the bustling streets of Sendai City and a bunch of offers from Gojo telling you he’ll buy whatever you want, the lingering sense of exhaustion finally caught up with you.

You had managed to make it an hour and a half.

The beads of salty sweat were becoming more prominent over your glossed skin, your breath being lost easily but being hard to get back. The overly frequent back aches weren’t helping either, it was like this baby was already overweight inside of you.

You couldn’t help but feel embarrassed as your soft, now clammy, hand weaved with Gojo’s, the wedding bands glinting a perfect chrome against the sun’s humid rays. You didn’t want to become a burden, neither a random woman in the city known for sweating abnormal amounts of sweat. “I think the baby’s had enough, huh sweets?”

Your loose gaze lifted upwards to meet his, immediately feeling the cool radiating from his cerulean eyes. Strangely, through the navy lenses in his shades.

“..yeah, me too.” You breathed.

“Okayyy, let’s get the bus back - save you walking around with that watermelon inside you.” Purposefully, Satoru presented you and your bump a judgy look.

“..thanks.”

Rolling your peepers with sarcasm, you gently swung your hand with his back and forth.

“Hey, that’s what it looks like to me!”

“Well it’s your sperm, blame your own genes on the fact it’s fat!”

“WHAT?! FAT?! I’M NOT FAT. I’M A TALL SKINNY KING! AND SO WILL BE MY BABIES!” The man was very much offended, that open-mouth and crossed brow face he pulled was all you needed to know.

“..oh REALLY? WELLI KNOW FOR A FACT ITS NOT MY GENES CAUSING IT!”

And all the way to the bus station you continued on with your quarrel on who’s genes caused your bump to be so big already.

Both you were just kids in adult bodies.

——

After earning an unusual load of overcritical glances from passers-by, you finally reached the bus station where many people stood.

Looking around with concern, your brows gently furrowed, a little confusion clouding your mind. It was good that Satoru could read you like a book.. sometimes.

“It’s okay, they’ll let us go past.”

The white-haired man muttered into your ear, placing his hands on your clothed shoulders.

“What if they don’t?”

“Oh they will.”

The way he said those words made you feel something, like it was your hormones playing tricks on you.

And so soon enough after waiting for a couple minutes, you had a glimpse of the scheduled bus turning around the corner.

“C’mon then.”

Placing a hand on the flat of your bump you both moved forwards, attempting to shift to the front.

“Satoru, I—”

“Just go baby, they’ll move for a pregnant queen like you.” He reassured, eyeing the men who weren’t moving out the way at first. Like they should, the women knew to make way, all flashing you sweetened smiles as you passed them.

Eventually you had gotten to the front with a man standing in the lead. “See?” Gojo smirked, watching you tilt your head back to see his beautiful face.

“M’kay..”

——

The doors of the vehicle swung open with a but too much vigour it almost took out the poor man standing next to them.

After Gojo, being the most pampering partner ever, paid for the tickets, he ushered you forwards only to discern no available seats. Gojo would be more than happy to stand, but it was you he worried about since you were already breathless and weak to stand.

The priority was stocked up with disabled and the impaired too apart from one space.

However that man who clearly perceived you were carrying a baby, sat in the seat in front of your face - glancing at you as he did so.

How selfish. Is he not embarrassed?

“There’s no seats left Gojo, I can’t stand anymore.”

Subtly you whined, being a little irritated that you couldn’t sit down and would have to uncomfortably stand as his baby rearranged your organs.

“..hm. Let’s see.”

“Wait—”

He shuffled to the man.

“Heello. Excuse me, but my miss is pregnant. Would you mind sparing the seat?” Gojo politely asked, hanging on to the pole situated in the middle of the aisle.

“What? Err no, sorry.”

That man was not sorry at all. It made you cringe.

Gojo’s expression paused, pressing his pastel lips together in irritation. Why wouldn’t this man listen?

“May I ask why are you being so difficult?”

After hearing those words, you knew this was going to veer off sideways. Almost everyone’s eyes were glued to the scene unfolding, all looking up from the windows and screen to see two men ‘bickering’ it out.

“Difficult? What do you mean, I was here first.” It seemed like the man had issues already, as he started to flail his hands around.

“My wife is pregnant, if you didn’t hear the first time. You’re sat in a priority seat, which where she should be sitting. Are you disabled?”

He was getting defensive. It was crystal clear that the man was not disabled, nor pregnant at that matter.

“..um no? But that doesn’t mean anything. I’m not giving up my seat for some cripple.”

A cripple?!

That’s it, Satoru had had enough and was desperate to split this man in half. Not a single person could insult you because he would already be on them like a hawk.

Anyways, the fact that the nasty being had called you a cripple, couldn’t help but make you feel a little too much like a burden, and your gaze saddened.

“You’ve gone too far. No-one. Absolutely no-one, is to offend my wife like that. So, jackass, vanish any place other so she can sit.”

“Or else?—”

“There is no ‘or else’ fool. You’ve already screwed the wrong person, so I suggest you move. Don’t do something stupid.”

The man, looking quite intimated, eventually got up and sulked off past the two of you.

“Thanks.” Satoru fake smiled, stalking him ‘till he had gone else where, far away from you.

All this drama had made you forgot about the achy pain surfacing your body, which immediately flowed back as realisation hit you.

“..oof-” It had subconsciously left your lips, and it made Satoru’s brows cross.

“Here you go my love. Is it hurting?”

He concernedly asked, holding your velvet hands as you lowered your rear on the much-needed seat.

“I’ll be fine, just what I needed.” You smiled back at him, tucking a stray hair behind you ear as you breathed out.

“I’m glad. Some morons just think they are ‘entitled’.”

—————— thank you for reading! this is my original idea and have worked hard on this. so please no translating, copying, posting my work on a different platform, or modifying my work. all rights reserved - kmuradesu

[emily--prentiss]

I LOVE YOU, ALWAYS FOREVER

aaron hotchner x fem!reader

cw: mentions of pregnancy/childbirth, no use of Y/N, just pure fluff and love

a/n: I’ve caught the writing bug again! after so long not writing anything, I now can’t seem to stop. anyway, please enjoy this short fic of aaron just being absolutely smitten with his girls <3

word count: 1.2k

You hadn’t thought it was possible to love him more.

From the moment he’d first asked you on a date - uncharacteristically timid, stumbling over his words, so unlike the fearless leader you’d come to idolise and respect since joining the team all those years ago - he’d treated you as if you’d hung the stars in the sky yourself.

He wasn’t overly affectionate in public, but you didn’t mind. You were well aware that he had an image to uphold. When you were alone, however, he showered you with affection. It was overwhelming at first, and you’d felt undeserving, not used to being in a relationship with someone that adored you, that loved you completely, that respected you all the more. But as time wore on, you’d become accustomed to these little romantic gestures that, even now, had your cheeks tinting a light pink, butterflies forming in your stomach, and a smile that you tried (and failed) to suppress tugging at your lips.

On the nights where you were apart, back when you were still living in your own apartment, he formed small, affectionate habits. He’d send a text to check you were home safe, following a date or a long day at the office. He’d have flowers delivered regularly, bright bouquets waiting on your doorstep when you returned home from a gruelling case, always accompanied by the sweetest, handwritten note (you had a shoebox full of them tucked away in your closet, a physical reminder of his love for you). He’d call you as you settled into bed, his voice gentle over the phone as he was wished you sweet dreams, told you how much he missed you, how he couldn’t wait to see you again.

When you moved in with him, just a few short months before he proposed, his gestures changed in tandem with your relationship. If he had to be at the office early, you’d wake to a note left atop his pillow, hastily written messages of love and adoration ensuring a beautiful start to your day. After a particularly difficult case, he’d usher you into the bathroom the moment you got home. He’d run you a bath, help you ease into the water, and disappear into the kitchen to cook you one of your favourite meals while you allowed the hot water and bubbles to melt away your troubles.

On your wedding day, he’d allowed himself to be less reserved. The moment he saw you, as you began your descent down the aisle, he was consumed by emotions, his beautiful eyes shining with unshed tears. He’d leaned into you as you took his hand, matching smiles on your faces, and whispered sweet nothings into your ear, telling you just how beautiful he thought you’d looked. He seemed unable to resist touching you after that initial contact. At any given moment, his hand was pressed to the small of your back, or his fingers were intertwined with your own, or his lips were pressing tender kisses to your forehead, your cheeks, your lips. Though he kept reminding you of his love for you throughout the day, whispering it into your skin, you could feel it through those small gestures, too.

He held you close to him as you danced together for the first time as man and wife. His eyes were on you the entire time as the pair of you moved effortlessly around the dance floor, surrounded by your loved ones, his ever present smile unwavering. During his speech, you’d cried tears of happiness, so overwhelmed by the life he’d given you, the joy he made you feel every day.

He loved you wholly, and you didn’t think you could love him more.

That was, until the first time you saw him hold your daughter.

It had been gruelling, the birth. Long. Tiring. Aaron had been by your side constantly. He held your hand, wiped the sweat from your brow, and told you over and over how proud he was of you.

And the smile that had consumed him, all teeth and dimples as your daughter had come kicking and screaming into the world, left you breathless.

He was smitten from the moment he laid eyes on her. Had waited for your subtle nod of assent before he left your side to be with her while the nurses weighed her and cleaned her up, unable to take his eyes off of her for a moment. When she was placed in your arms for the first time, he’d wrapped his arms around the two of you as a choked noise left you, somewhere between a sob and a laugh. And although you weren’t alone in the room, midwife and nurses alike still floating around, it felt as though the world had shrunk to just the three of you - husband, wife, child.

He whispered against your cheek how perfect, how beautiful she was. Just like her mother. You’d scoffed then, partly because you’d always been unable to accept a compliment, mostly because you were certain you were anything but beautiful in that moment. Your hair most definitely resembled a birds nest, your lips were chapped and dry, and the sweat had dried uncomfortable onto your skin. But as you’d looked up at him and found his gaze settled on you for the briefest of moments before he’d leant forward to press a gentle, loving kiss to your lips, you thought perhaps he’d truly meant it.

Aaron didn’t hold the baby - Ivy, you’d settled on fairly quickly - until the three of you were finally alone. Though he’d refused to stray far, he knew how important those initial moments of bonding were between you and your tiny speck of a baby, so had refrained for as long as possible. But after a while, you’d looked over at where he stood towered over your bed, eyes roving over the baby as if trying to memorise every tiny detail of her little body. When you’d finally caught his eye, you’d tilted your head in a silent invitation that he join the two of you on the bed, a small laugh bubbling out of you at how quickly he shuffled in beside you. The baby was transferred into his awaiting arms, and as you curled yourself into his side as best as you could, you felt your breath catch in your throat at the sight of them.

Ivy, who was already a little small for her age, appeared even more so as she nestled into her father’s chest. The palm of one of his hands encompassed her back, his thumb rubbing soothing circles against her through the blanket she was wrapped up in. The baby had grizzled as she’d been moved from her mother’s arms to her father’s. But as Aaron whispered into her ear how much he already loved her - something he’d done to you countless times over the years - she settled, as if she knew she was safe. Protected by the first man to ever love her.

And as the three of you rested in comfortable silence, you felt it again.

That love for him, a love that already felt all encompassing, growing even more.

[yappingwitch]

Say It Ain't So

pairing - Virgin!James Potter x fem!reader

summary - James busts a fat one. Porn with glimpses of plot. Maybe.

warnings - 18+ mdni, smut, awkwardness, James is a desperate virgin in this one, hence the weezer title, premature ejaculation, handjob (m receiving), one sided enemies to ???, slight m sub/f dom dynamics if you squint, legs

wordcount - 1.6k

disclaimer - english is my second language. Don't hesitate to correct me!

You hated James Potter.

Your dislike well-known among your friends, none of them dared to ever mention him anymore, fearing another long-winded rant from you. Remembering when the lot of you would stay up after curfew, sharing gossip and talking about your crushes. All of them gasped when you casually shared your feelings about the headboy after they spent what felt like hours gushing about him. Proceeding to list of every single thing wrong with the guy, making your friends regret ever bringing him up.

Did he have beautiful curly hair you just wanted to run your fingers through? Brilliant hazel eyes in which mischief was ever-present? Pretty plump lips, his slightly crooked, overly confident smirk always on them? Well, yes, you could admit that much. But as soon as he opened his mouth, you couldn’t care less about how pretty it was. He'd always disrupt the lessons, the golden boy having no filter or capability to raise his hand, always yelling the answers out or talking loudly with his posse during dinner, unable to control his volume and barely having to face any consquences for his obnoxious nature.

So when Slughorn, who aside from his quirky nature, you quite liked, decided to pair you both together for the last project of the year, you were fuming. At least internally. Your prideful nature and pureblood customs instilled in you by your parents forced you to keep a blank face, only briefly smiling at the teacher when he uttered your name after James', swallowing your rage.

Shortly after class ended, as you were packing your things after quickly finishing your notes, you suddenly heard one of the old wooden chairs in front of you creak. Looking up at the noise, you saw a certain Gryffindor already staring back, a stupid smirk on his face like always, the air of confidence around him ever-present.

“So…,” James started absent-mindedly going through your notes, but you quickly interrupted whatever he was about to say.

“I’ll take care of the project by myself. Can’t have you messing up my grades,” you simply stated, ripping your notes from his hands, frowning at the way he had smudged the last of your sentence. Ignoring your frown, he loudly exclaimed, “Hey! My grades are stellar.” He tapped his finger against his chest, where his perfect badge was. “They don’t give them away for nothing, you know?”

“I also don’t like you,” you said after a moment of silence, standing up and slinging your bag over your shoulder, quickly walking out.

But he wouldn't let up, following you all the way to the Great Hall, pestering you until you finally snapped right by the Slytherin table.

“Saturday, library, after lunch. No word from you until then,” you almost yelled, your face twisting in anger. Noticing the other Slytherins' snickers, you quickly composed yourself, swallowing your anger. He, oblivious as always, smiled widely, ignoring your state and simply basking in the glory of having won this little duel of words.

Saturday approached faster than you would’ve liked, dreading the obnoxious boy's presence already. But you approached the surprisingly empty library anyway, not one to go back on your word. You frowned slightly, looking around, realizing even the librarian must have taken the day off. Sighing, you called out to James; he was already there, notes and textbooks scattered about. He quickly jumped up from his chair, beaming like always, until his gaze drifted down, his usual aura of self-assurance dwindling a little.

“What are you wearing?” he asked, mouth hanging slightly agape.

You looked down; you were wearing a simple skirt and long-sleeved top, not too different from what you usually wore in your free time. Confused, you lifted your head again, his gaze quickly following, being previously trained on your bare legs. Realizing he had been caught, a blush appeared on his cheeks as he plopped unceremoniously down, coughing awkwardly and focusing on the books laying before him.

“Weirdo,” you stated, disinterest evident, just wanting this project to be over with. But what you saw once you reached the table he was sitting at piqued your interest suddenly. Looking down, a prominent bulge had formed in the front of his pants, straining against the material. A book was quickly tossed over it, but it was too late.

“You’re such a skeeze. Who gets hard from looking at a girl's legs?” you asked, amused, not really expecting an answer, just continuing to stare him down, enjoying watching the high-and-mighty golden boy begin to tremble under your intense gaze.

“..they are your legs,” he mumbled, blush only deepening as his eyes stayed glued to the table.

This made you laugh out loud, gasping for air.

“Are you a virgin or something? Bloody hell,” you huffed out between laughs, a single tear escaping your eye at the comical twist your day had taken.

James didn't reply, groaning in embarrassment and continuing to hold the book tightly over his lap.

“Cat got your tongue?” you said, still smirking but finally having calmed down. “I didn’t even know you were capable of zipping it.”

This seemed to push him over the edge; he picked up his bag and shoved everything in with lightning speed, until suddenly he froze, hearing your next sentence.

“I can help you out if you want,” you said, a mischievous smile adorning your pretty face, putting his own to shame.

All he got out was a quick “huh,” as you pounced, wordlessly pushing him back down onto the chair. He looked up through his glasses, his eyes wide, the cute blush still evident on his face. Fuck.

“You are so pretty,” you whispered aloud before pressing your mouth against his. Short and sweet. It was almost romantic, the way he gently started to move his mouth and the lovestruck look on his face once you pulled away.

He eagerly leaned forward again, knocking his nose against yours before trying again, this time slower, aiming properly while the book he had previously clenched in his lap dropped to the floor with a thud. He opted to instead take hold of your hips, almost moaning at the feeling of the warmth of your skin touching his, slightly poking out from the bottom of your shirt. You, in turn, moved your hand that gripped the curls at the back of his neck slowly down his chest, delicate fingers grasping at the painful bulge in his pants. This made James quickly pull away, a loud moan leaving his now reddened lips as he grasped your wrist, stopping your movement.

“I-” he gasped out. “I-I’m waiting for the right person.”

He regretted talking the second the words left his mouth, seeing you roll your eyes at him, laughing a little at the bizarre turn of events, moving to remove your hand nonetheless.

He quickly went to grasp at your wrist again, pulling it toward his crotch once more, his body moving on its own.

“You need to make up your mind, pretty boy,” you said softly, looking at him amused.

“You know…,” you started after he continued to be silent, he in turn looked up at you through his lashes, blushing, his glasses a little crooked and a dorky smile on his lips, hearing your voice again. “Maybe I’m not the right person… but… I could be your right hand,” you finished, slightly averting your eyes, cringing at your words.

He didn't notice, though, too lost in need for release; he eagerly nodded his head. You laughed a little, removing his grip on your arm and moving to open the Gryffindor's trousers, just enough for you to pull his now hard member out, precum already coating his tip, while pressing another sweet kiss to his lips. Disconnecting from him once more, you lifted your right hand, holding it up to James' face expectantly.

“Spit,” you commanded, and the boy obliged without a second thought.

One long, loud moan left his mouth as your hand slowly moved against his cock, brushing your thumb over the head, gently mixing the precum with his spit, spreading it all over his length. You moved to press kisses to his bobbing throat, his head thrown back in pleasure, as you started to move your hand up and down in a steady rhythm, sucking a small purple spot onto his neck, his gasps and groans only getting louder.

“Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck,” James repeated over and over like a prayer, lost in pleasure. You lifted your head, stopping your assault on his neck, to look at his scrunched-up face, eyes tightly shut, mouth hanging open. You couldn't help but stare, the glaring noon sun shining in through the stained glass and making his skin almost appear to glow, colors of the rainbow dancing around his face, sweat bullets forming on his forehead like little diamonds. Fuck. He really was—

“Pretty,” you mumbled, pushing James over the edge-a string of curses leaving him as he came undone over your hand, specks of it staining your skirt all the way to your pretty legs, the reason all of this started in the first place.

He continued to gasp, trying to catch his breath and gasping out apologies for the mess. You silently tugged him back into his pants, amused at the wet spot adorning his own lower half.

You wiped your hand on his pants before zipping him up. Wordlessly, you pressed a kiss to his cheek, swiftly turning around, ready to go take a shower after the ordeal.

“Wait,” you paused in your steps, glancing back at James. “D-do… you… want… to,” he started, before pausing again, finally catching his breath. “Do you want to go to Hogsmeade… with me?”

You glanced ahead, continuing on your path without replying to the desperate boy, only flashing him a quick smirk.

Maybe you didn't hate him after all.

[thebomb-thebird-andtheburntbitch]

a/n: 2.1k w.count- boothill needs a lil tune up [...y'all should've seen this one comin' honestly]

you're not sure why you bother setting an alarm every time you go to sleep. you don't even know when you'll be sleeping for one; it could be in the afternoon, it could be in the morning, it could be for ten minutes at your workbench, and on the rare occasion, you can even go to bed at night like everyone else. although, that last option when blessed upon you, never lasted the whole night.

as for the original dilemma of alarm clocks? who needs 'em! the critters getting into your shop and wrecking your tools around were a surefire way to get your blood pumping with a wild chase around the shop with a hefty, swinging wrench. kids stopping by to see the newest hunk-of-junk thing you've been tinkering with or maybe even bringing you some toy to fix with whimpering chins are always sure to keep you awake- you couldn't send them away with smashed hopes. perhaps it was a good natured older lady or gentlemen just stretching their legs one fine morning after you had pulled an all nighter, but now you have to entertain their gossip well into the morning past the ass-crack of dawn because you can't be a bad host!

this instance, however, just so happens to be the familiar sound of heavy, metal boots clanking their way through the shop's public entrance. the sound of the stomping reverberates around your small little rest room at the back of your shop through the camera feed you keep running at all hours (mostly for those critters previously mentioned). having just fallen asleep on top of being hyperaware of sounds from the feed, your eyes fly open. with a well-overdramatic, one-person show worthy groan evolved to frustrated yell, you were throwing your shabby blanket off your legs.

"wakey, wakey!" the synthetic voice of an overly familiar man projects into your room.

you stomp across the room in two short strides. slamming your palm down on a button attached to a small table with all sorts of other switches and knobs, the small indicator that audio is feeding from your microphone kicks on as red as your temper.

"the hell do you want?" you growl, voice muffled at the end of your exhausted question by your free hand running down your face. you hear his voice chuckle on the other end. peering through your fingers into the video screen, he had moved to stand away from your shop door. his arms are crossed across his metallic chest, chin tilted up so his one eye can gaze into the camera that follows his movements.

"now, now, sugar," he chuckles, "just open the door, would ya'? i could use some fixin' up." as if trying to coax you into letting him in, he waves one of his arms around by the elbow.

you're not sure if he heard you click your tongue before you lifted your hand off the audio feed button, but he chuckles nonetheless as the soft click of disconnection echoes on his end. he knew you'd come racing to the door... well, at the very least you wouldn't leave him out to dry.

the cowboy dips his chin and chuckles under his breath as the brim of his hat shadows his face. he could hear you stomping your way towards him and just imagining your irritated face with a possibly twitching brow was highly amusing to him.

the door in front of his toes swings open inwards and the rush of air as it did so flutters his long bangs that always covered the right side of his face. his chin rises a fraction, and he was right. your face was assuming.

standing in a wrinkled shirt that you no doubt had been trying to sleep in, arms crossed and a crease so deep in your brows he was tempted to push his thumb between them.

"well," he starts, swaying his hunk of metal bodyweight to one of his equally metal legs, "ain't you a sight for sore eyes."

"what. do you want." you hiss. before he gives you a verbal answer, his arm swings down and swipes something from his pocket before presenting it in front of your face. your eyes nearly go crossed to examine it. then you're looking back up at him, not any more amused than before. "is this supposed to be a bribe?"

the cowboy shrugs playfully, twisting the covered candied sucker between his fingers.

"do ya' want it to be?"

you roll your eyes, bringing your arm up to snatch the small boost of sugar from him. "just get in here, boothill." you sigh, free hand coming to rub your forehead. turning your body to retreat back into your home, the clanking of him following behind echoes at your back.

boothill whistles at the state of the familiar shop he'll find himself in from time to time for quick fix-ups. a workbench loaded with heaps of scrap metal, tools, random bobbles, and screws all littered on top of pages and printed blueprints of projects or repairs. it's even more of a chaotic mess than last time. he sits on the stool he normally snags as his when he's here and, without speaking, you're hooking up a small machine attached to the wall next to the bench and offering him the end of a circular cord.

"need a charge?" you ask with a small lisp from the candy you had already unwrapped and placed in your mouth against your cheek.

"well, why not," he entertains. taking the thick, extendable cord from your hand and plugging it into the port on his lower back.

you flit around a few other places before your snagging a stoll for yourself and placing it in front of his knees. you push some estranged tools around with your forearm and, while moving your sucker from one cheek to the other, you begin to maneuver your hair out of your face.

boothill enjoys watching you in this way. it felt familiar- just seeing someone move around in rather mundane ways. this small sense of domesticity was familiar and comfortable. it calmed him; reminding him of home.

"what's the problem?" you finally ask, looking a tad bit more awake and more or less ready to work on whatever issue he had to present.

his right arm moves to cross his lap and his palm bangs twice on his opposing forearm where his internal revolver barrel is.

"i got myself in quite a fuss with this dang thing. forkin' bullet got jammed in the goose-dud thing and i can't even pop the barrel open to reload it."

you stare at him like he just said the dumbest thing you've ever heard. "you came all the way here. because your arm got jammed by a bullet." the way you spoke sounded exactly how you looked at him.

"this ain't no one-handed fix, sugar." you stay quiet, not willing to admit he had a point. using both hands to not only try and pop open the jam, but also tinker around with what was essentially his whole arm's motion control- that did require a bit more finesse than just slamming his arm on a wall until it gave way... which is precisely what you could imagine him doing.

"fine," you yield. "take off that sorry excuse of a 'jacket' unless you want that sleeve covered in oil."

you twist away from him, half-standing at a strange angle to reach across your workbench for something as the satisfying sound of the bottom of his small zipper unlatches. shrugging it off, he tosses it onto your bench, covering a few loose tools and scribblings of paper.

you fully get out of your stool and trot over to the other side of the shop to roll over a smaller table with a metal tub. you wheel it to his left and, without instruction, boothill lays his arm over it.

as you begin to tinker around with his arm, picks, pliers, oil and all working on trying to dislodge the stray bullet that had caused such an issue, boothill has taken to lounging comfortably as he watches.

his right arm, free of any issues or problem fixing, was propped up on the corner of your workbench at his side with his forearm resting along the edge. his metal fingers had snagged a stray nail from the workspace and had been twirling it absent-mindedly between his knuckles like a bullet.

the only words spoken between you both as you worked was the occasional quick apology if something you did prods against a wire that sent a shock up his arm or made his fingers twitch.

"easy. last thing we need ya' doin' is settin' my gun off, sugar," he had told you. just because his arm machinery wasn't properly loaded- ain't nothing was stopping you from accidentally relodging the bullet and sending it through your wall. the sudden discharge coupled with his exposed wires could easily kick his arm back with enough recoil to knock you clean out with how close you were leaning in to see what you were doing.

"okay..!" you whisper to yourself before the sound of something sliding down in his arm is followed by a sensation; one he was almost familiar with. "give me a wrench. heavy," you instruct. on hand was spread across his forearm just at the start of the revolver barrel, the other outstretched towards your bench. grabbing the nearest one, he slaps it into your palm.

with a two, heavy whacks using your newly acquired wrench, you slam the barrel shut and boothill lets out a small breath.

"now, that feels a heck of a lot better," he chuckles. you reach around his forearm, release the tension latch and the barrel swings out successfully. with your pliers, you easily remove one problematic, greasy bullet. "knew i could count on you to get the job done."

"and thanks to you, my hands are gross," you chide. fingers greased in oil. boothill grabs a rag from your workbench drawer and tosses it over your sullied hands. you start working the cloth between your fingers the moment it hits your skin. "i recommend you stick around and charge up before heading out on whatever you got lined up next."

"shucks, you mean it?" you can't tell if he's genuinely thankful you'd allow him to stay or if he was just being facetious. once your hands were at least dry, you start using it to wipe down his arm next.

"course i do. i'll have to give you a quick check again before you go. i'll mess around and try and make it so it doesn't jam like that again. whatever tech-doc you worked with before really needed to focus on the finer details." boothill wondered if you knew that you had lifted his newly repaired limb and started rotating and twisting it like you were admiring your work. like you were admiring him.

"they don't matter no more," he tells you. "i got ya' now, don't i? who needs some random rear shirt-bag, when i got the best in the forkin' business right here?"

"careful now. flattery will get your everywhere."

"no shirt?"

"watch your mouth," you tease before you stand. "i mean it though. stay put and charge."

"i ain't no stupid electronic," he clicks. his body moves and twists so both of his arms are now leaning on the workbench behind him. both elbows supporting him as his arms dangle off the ledge. "but I hear ya'." his eye shuts under the shadow of his hat.

his eye reopened no sooner than it shut when the shadow caused by the brim of his cowboy hat disappeared and the light of your shop flitered through his eyelids. with a clear, open eye, he lifts his chin to see you standing in front of him.

you had pinched the brim of his hat between your fingers, snatching it off his head and revealing the fullness of his long, dual-colored hair and cross-hair-infused eye. you take his hat and nonchalantly toss it behind his right shoulder to avoid getting any residual oil from his left arm on it.

"take your damn hat off inside my shop will you? you don't need it." you turn away from him as he continues to stare at your back, slack jawed. you mutter something about washing your hands and arms before you disappear behind a doorway and around the corner of the wall. he'd been in the entirety of your shop before, so he knows where you went but all he could think about was you flicking his hat off him.

the cowboy let his head fall backward, the hair on the backside of his skull tangling with screws and pencils as his right hand comes to rest over his face. he can hear the water running in the other room.

"ah, son of a nice lady...!"

boothill has really got to tell you not to mess with his hat.

a/n: one day i'll write a flirty hat rule fic. *sigh* one day.

[tiamathh]

ADRASTAEA (239)

Inescapable

Adrastea often also spelt as Adrasteia in Greek Mythology also known as "she who cannot be escaped" is the goddess of revolt. In my opinion wherever this asteroid is in your chart, it indicates what you cannot escape.

Tw: ED mention for 2nd House

1st: You cannot escape your own self and insecurities about the way you look or talk or walk. You may find it difficult to let go and may overdress at times to overcompensate. There is a possibility that you may be stuck in a loop that never ends because you feel like it cannot especially when it comes to your physical body.

2nd: You cannot escape your lack mindset, and may fall into it easily. You may have had a rough upbringing financially which makes you feel like you'll be financially unstable forever. You may attach all your self esteem with material wealth rather than looking inside and may have experiences with eating disorders.

3rd: You cannot escape your own mind, you may have been overly criticised during your early schooling years and may have been compared a lot with your neighbours and siblings especially academically. Have a tendency to overthink because of how observant you are and may be prone to getting anxious in public settings.

4th: You cannot escape your home, you may have had parents who were either neglectful or didn't get along with each other and fought a lot. This may make you feel like you don't have a comfort place/home and you'll never find one, that you can't escape your "fate" of having a home life that isn't secure in the future because of your past and may be scared to start a family.

5th: You cannot escape the spotlight for better or for worse. This makes you uncomfortable with being alone with yourself as you may out on a facade due to multiple eyes being on you at all times, this can also lead to feeling helpless at times because nothing you do seems to go unnoticed. You're scared ghosts of your past will come back to haunt you because of the same and are neglectful to your inner child.

6th: You cannot escape control, this is mostly external and you may feel like you're constantly being restricted and that you can't be free. You may have trouble setting boundaries as people around you may disregard them, not only that but you may lack self-discipline as you see it may seem too limiting for you, and you may believe that it will try to stifle you and your creativity. You may also have trouble making your subordinates listen to your ideas and opinions.

7th: You cannot escape the image you've made of yourself and presented to the world, as well as your relationships (platonic and romantic) you're bound to it and feel like you need to abide by it constantly without a break. You may also have trouble leaving bad or toxic relationships because you fear you won't be able to find anyone else, and may have problems with negotiating in a way that benefits you.

8th: You cannot escape your own guilt and the occult. You find it very difficult to let go of people and things, memories and experiences and may feel like it's your burden to bear. May feel shame attached to masturbation or sexual acts in a way and may not be comfortable being in intimate situations both sexually and emotionally. You may also attract a lot of energy vampires.

9th: You cannot escape the philosophies others enforce on you. You may have grown up in an extremely conventional/religious or strict household where you were expected and taught to do everything by the book. You probably have a difficult time trying to see things from other perspectives and may be a little rigid, having to work on being open minded actively, you may also have a dicey relationship with religion.

10th: You cannot escape your work, you're a workaholic and it brings a lot of imbalance to your life. You always want bigger better things that blind you from the meaningful relationships you have and the growth that you can go through. You neglect both your body and mind, and are restless when it comes to your deadlines, you may butt heads with authority figures as well.

11th: You cannot escape your self-sacrificial nature. You have a tendency to give even when you don't have anything for yourself and then fall in a loop of self pity. Your relationships with your friends and your community may be unequal as you don't get much back. There's a feeling of needing to give back rather than wanting to which also negatively impacts your energy.

12th: You cannot escape your past. Whether it be your past in this life or in terms of your past life, old relationships, people, memories keep coming back to teach you lessons that you didn't learn because of your self limiting beliefs and self deprecating nature. You don't like delving deep because you're scared of what you'll learn and what you'll see rather than wielding that knowledge as a weapon.

All Rights Reserved tiamathh on tumblr. Do not steal, repost, plagiarise or reword and claim as your own!

[theobsessivesideblog]

Trust Issues

An anxious Astarion falls back into old patterns of behavior.

Warnings: vague mentions of Astarion's past but seriously the rest of it is just fluff, this boy deserves someone who treats him well

————————

He loves you. Of that much he’s certain now, despite the mental battle he waged to get to this point. And you love him. He believes it even though the voice in the back of his mind tells him that he could never be worthy of a creature like you, all goodness and light in direct contrast to his tortured darkness. 

But old habits die hard. A minor disagreement earlier in the day (truly it was nothing, a mere gentle dissuasion away from his more violent tendencies) has him wound tight, worry clawing at his throat as you both retire to your tent for the evening. Surely now you’ll realize, now you’ll see the truth of him and you’ll run, leaving him behind like the monster he is. 

He can feel his mindset shift, falling into old routines as he turns up the charm to seduce his way back into your good graces. He knows how to wield his body as a weapon, has used it countless times for his, and his master’s, benefit. If he makes you need him then you can’t leave him, and he intends to make you very needy tonight. 

“You were magnificent today” he whispers into your ear, coming up behind you and wrapping his arms around your waist. 

You chuckle lightly and lean into him, closing your eyes as he begins gently kissing the sensitive hollow beneath your ear that has you arching further into his embrace. 

“You flatter me,” you hum. “I’m still not sure why everyone has decided to act like I know what I’m doing. I never planned on being a leader.”

“And yet you do it so flawlessly,” Astarion purrs, gently kissing his way to your shoulder.

You twist in his hold, your breath catching as you see the look in his eyes that he’s praying you interpret as hunger and not helpless desperation.

He takes advantage of your distraction to pull you against him, lips claiming yours in a feverish dance that takes your breath away as you wind your hands into his hair, clinging to him as if he’s something worth having. 

His hands shift suddenly, grabbing the backs of your thighs and lifting you as he lowers you both to your knees. His hands drift up, pulling your shirt from where it’s tucked into your pants and caressing his way across your stomach to your ribs, teasing the edge of your bra. 

“I…” you take a sharp inhale, pulling yourself away from his searching mouth. “Astarion, stop.”

He freezes immediately, eyes instantly searching for an injury, for anything he may have done wrong 

“Are you okay, my love? Did I hurt you?”

“Of course not, I just…” your fingers flit across his cheek, searching for answers to questions you’re afraid to ask. “You don’t seem like yourself. Are you alright?” He hesitates for a split second and your brow furrows, latching on to his lie before he can even tell it. “Tell me. Please?” 

Your request is so earnest, so loving, that he has to pause for a moment to regain a hold of his emotions. If Cazador could see him now… the thought snaps him back to the present. He’s been a fool. You would never treat him like that, use him like that. 

“… I’m sorry” he breathes. “You’re right. Of course you’re right. I… I lost control today, and I was afraid that you… that you might not...”

“I told you it was nothing to worry about, love. You were just—”

“Just being myself,” he interjects, dropping his head. “Just being quick to judge, to assume the worst, to—”

“Stop that,” you frown, nudging his chin up to draw his eyes back to yours. “You know I couldn’t do this without you, any of it. What you thought of me when we met, that I was naive and overly trusting and gullible…” At that Astarion chuckles, you’ve really only proven his first impression right, though at least now he finds it endearing rather than frustrating. “You weren’t wrong. You don’t realize how much I rely on your judgment, how much I need your help to keep us all safe.”

His eyes close as he presses his forehead to yours.

“You’re too kind to me,” he whispers. “No one has ever… I don’t understand how you can just…” he sighs, shoulders sagging as the facade crumbles and his hands come to rest in yours, holding them as if he’s afraid he’ll get lost if he lets them go. “It was wrong of me to try to manipulate you like that,” he murmurs, releasing a shaky breath. “I’m sorry.” You press a soft kiss to his cheek and duck your head, gently nuzzling your face into his neck. He feels you frown against him, a touch of cold alerting him to a teardrop falling onto his skin. “No, pet, please don’t cry, I—”

You lift your head suddenly, gaze piercing into him with an intensity he hadn’t expected.

“I need you to trust me, Astarion.” 

His brow furrows in confusion. 

“I do, my sweet,” he replies, letting out a wry chuckle before adding “despite the recent evidence to the contrary.”

Your gaze softens as you grin at him, brushing a stray curl off his forehead before bringing your hand to rest on his cheek.

“Then trust me to love you.Trust that you don’t need to earn that or convince me of anything more. I’m yours. I’m not going anywhere.” 

Astarion’s eyes drift closed as a weight he didn’t realize he was carrying slips off his shoulders. He leans forward and captures your lips with his, tender and unhurried as you relax against him. 

“Have I told you recently how much I adore you, darling?” he asks, tilting his head to slowly kiss his way to your jaw.

“Hmm…” Your eyes twinkle as you pull an exaggerated thinking face. “I’m sure you have but it’s been such a long day, I just can’t seem to remember…”

“Cheeky little pup,” he chuckles, gently nipping at your neck. You giggle as you pull him back to your mouth, smiling against his lips. 

“Maybe you should jog my memory?” 

“Oh, believe me,” he smirks, “I plan to.”

[meazalykov]

the video

aitana bonmati x barca femeni x barca!reader

summary: on international break- a video circulates online that will cause your girlfriend, and club teammates, to be concerned

warnings: mentions of abuse, angst

on international break, you clashed with your coach over a situation. 

you’ve realized that your national team coach was being overly aggressive towards some of the younger players– the 18 to 22 year old ones. 

as the captain, you gave them a safe space to talk to you about it. you had the platform– as a 2020 ballon d’or winner, and 2 time champions league winner– to speak up about any situation that is bothering you. 

even if that might piss off the “higher ups” of your national team. 

after seeing your coach nearly scream, not yell, but scream at one of the youngsters on the team for not making a header during an international friendly.. you had enough. 

you pulled your coach to the side and confronted him at halftime.

 

“hey, why did you scream at her over the failed set piece? its her debut?” 

“don’t question me about my corrections.” he mumbled, looking away from you and waving at another staff member yards away. 

“i will! you can’t scream at the players about their mistakes, it's affecting the team chemistry and they need to be nurtured into having experience– not screamed at. you can see that they’re SCARED to even come to training because of this.” you snapped.

this has happened for long enough. 

little did you know, a few people in the distance were recording this interaction between your coach and you. 

what shocked them was when the coach grabbed your arm, aggressively, and pulled you close to him so you’re just 3 feet from the left side of his body. 

he squeezed your arm, purposely, which caused your face to squeeze as his physical assault caught you off guard. 

“listen, you do NOT question me about my coaching! maybe if she scored that, she wouldn’t have been punished!” he said through clenched teeth, staring at you with darkened eyes and a vein nearly popping out of his forehead.

realizing that you wouldn’t let him do this to you, you smacked his hand off of your arm and sprinted off– completely shocked that he would do that to you. 

the people who recorded the interaction sent the video to all news publications afterwards– the new york times, bbc, foxsports, tmz, 433– you name it. 

at the end of the game, where you were benched after that confrontation before the start of the second half, everyone booed the coach. 

everyone was confused– even you. at first, you assumed that your own country was booing you guys. that didn’t make sense– you guys won 3-2. 

once you guys were in the dressing room, all of the fifa officials took your coach away to talk to him. 

you had no idea that people recorded that assault that happened to you. some of your teammates noticed the red mark on your arm and the quietness of your voice– so they figured it had to do with the coach. 

“y/n..” you turn around to see the young midfielder behind you with a sad smile. 

the same 17 year old girl you defended after she was screamed over a missed header. 

“hey! congrats on today.” you pulled her into a soft hug, rubbed her upper back before pulling away. 

“thank you.” she smiled. 

you couldn’t resent her for the moment between the coach and you– he is the problem not her. 

when the national team got on the bus, the coach wasn’t there. the nice assistant coach (who has fallen to the main coaches abuse too) took his place. 

your eyebrows knitted together as you saw a notification from your barcelona teammate and close friend– alexia. 

ale 

WHAT THE FUCK? 

ale 

are you okay?!! 

y/n 

i am? 

y/n 

what's going on!?

ale

there’s a video on the internet

alex 

instagram.com/justwomensports….

when you clicked on the link, your face turned pale. 

many people have recorded the moment between the coach and you from hours before. 

you looked strong at first, until he grabbed your arm. the terrified look on your face was present until you smacked his arm away. 

to say that the media was in an outrage– that would be an understatement. 

almost every news publication has posted about it. there was no possible way that the coach wouldn’t be sacked for the amount of negative attention this has brought. 

you didn’t want to imagine how aitana, your girlfriend, is reacting to the situation– as she keeps calling you over-and-over again.  

y/n 

tana, i’ll call you once i’m back in the hotel. i will explain. 

aitana

i should kill him 

aitana

are you okay mi amor? 

y/n

i don’t know

y/n 

i think my mind is trying to supress it, but i can’t explain how i feel 

aitana

please call me asap 

when you clicked off of your imessages– mapi texted you in the groupchat between ingrid, her, and you. 

mapi 

y/n are you active? 

y/n

yes, hi!

mapi

do you want me to kill that pos? 

you giggle at the message- not because you want to see him dead- but the barcelona girls have their extreme way with defending their loved ones. 

ingrid

maybe you shouldn’t threaten ppl mapi 

ingrid

especially not now

ingrid

y/n please tell me you’re okay 

mapi

or will be okay? 

y/n 

i don’t know how to feel about it

y/n 

it happened so fast 

y/n 

i think my brain isn’t trying to process it. i’m scared

ingrid

call aitana

y/n

i am once i’m back in the hotel, i’m on the bus with the team right now. 

after turning your phone off and looking at your phone, your national teammates on the bus were very quiet. 

as they’re scrolling on their phones– they’re understanding why the mean coach isn’t on the bus anymore.

 your best friend on your national team taps your shoulder and you look over at her, seeing that she finished watching the video. 

“WHAT THE FUCK?” she mumbles very quietly as she gives you a heartbroken look. 

“when did this happen?” she asked. 

“at halftime, remember when i had to pull him outside of the dressing room to talk to him..” you say. 

your best friend frowns before pulling your head into her body for a hug. 

“is this why you were benched once the game started again?” she whispers. 

“i believe so.” 

one thing that everyone knew– your girlfriend in spain wasn’t going to let *that* slide. 

the next day-- your 2023 ballon d’or winner girlfriend scored a goal in a game against another country.. she held up two fingers on her left hand and one finger on her right, dedicating her golozo for you. since you wore the number 12 on your club and national teams.

next, an important post on instagram spoke up about abuse in the community. a post that went viral alongside your situation.

aitana was quick to repost it on her story– bringing more support for you as you struggled with that traumatic moment. 

before you came back to barcelona a week later, you told the “higher-ups” of your national team that if your coach stays, you would retire from international football. 

you are 24 years old, so that is an extreme ultimatum. 

they couldn’t afford to lose you, one of the best players in the world. 

the coach was sacked, charged for assault, and you are happy about it. 

in barcelona, most of the girls came to your apartment to comfort you. 

alexia, her girlfriend olga, ingrid, mapi, esmee, fridolina, patri, caroline, marta, and jana were all there to give you support. 

you cried for the first time about it since the incident occurred. never in your life were you treated that way. 

once the girls left your house hours later, aitana stayed. well– you guys lived together so it wasn’t an option for her to leave. 

with aitana, you told more details about the things you’ve seen the coach do to the team. the way he ruined the chemistry and motivation of the girls is something you’re prepared to fix with the new coach coming onto the national team. 

she cuddles you and plays with your hair as you talk. refusing to leave your side for a while. 

the spanish national team had their own problems, which you know about, so aitana is able to help you as you help her through her problems too.

aitana and your club teammates vows to never let someone hurt you like that again. 

authors note: this has been in my drafts for over a month.

my master list is linked here if you want to read more fics <3

[vrystalius]

How would Sanemi and Tengen react if they were jealous? For example,a random guy looked at his wife and said a compliment.

❕Sanemi and Tengen’s reaction of a guy trying to hit on his wife.

Someone is trying to hit on you while you’re on a date with your husband. How will he react?

Note: Thank you so much for requesting! I had lots of fun writing this. Sorry about Tengen’s part being so short, I got really tired. My requests are open and I look forward to writing more! <3

Pairing: Sanemi, Tengen x fem!reader

(Creep behaviour in Sanemi’s part, mentioning of sickness and vomiting in Tengen’s)

💚 Sanemi Shinazugawa 💚

— Sanemi really looked forward to finally go on a cute, simple date with you again. He’s a very busy person with a lot of responsibilities, and he felt like he was neglecting you for a while now. So, Sanemi planned out a cute date for you two: first stop, the main city. A new restaurant just opened and Kyojuro seemingly really enjoyed it, so he decided to take you out for a nice night. After eating, Sanemi wanted to take a walk with you on the outskirts and maybe do some light shopping, and then finish the night off with making some desserts together at home.

— Sanemi held you close to himself, lazily wrapping his arm around your waist and glancing at you every now and then. You made yourself look so pretty tonight, he can’t help but stare a little. Your pattern kimono was matching his new yukata he recently bought. You’ve made your hair look really pretty tonight, even though it’s always gorgeous.

— After eating out, he spotted a gold-plated hairpin with green gems in a shopwindow. He didn’t want you to spot it right away and gift it to you as a nice present to remember this day by, so Sanemi send you out on a mission to go to the sweet-stand across the street and grab some sweets for yourself and some ohagi for him.

— As you were ordering, you cannot help but notice how overly friendly the stand-owner was talking to you. He asked you what moved you to be out here tonight, what you were planning on doing and if you were alone. You mentioned multiple times that you were here with your husband, and that you were buying the ohagi for that said husband. The owner didn’t seem to care and shrugged it off.

“How about we talk for a little more? You’re nice company, and I might give you this stuff for free if you do.”

— This guy was seriously creepy. You expressed multiple times that you had a husband and were not really interested in holding a longer conversation with him. That made the owner pout and whine about your behaviour and how ungrateful you are. He just offered to give this to you for free!

“Didn’t you hear her, dipshit? She’s. Not. Interested.”

— While you two talked, Sanemi came back from the shop. He was surprised that you weren’t finished purchasing yet, so he wanted to make sure everything’s alright. That’s when he noticed how uncomfortable you seemed. You had a scowl on your face and your eyebrows were furrowed. You seemingly still tried to be nice and kindly push this creep away in a nicer and gentle manner and just get the damn sweets you ordered, but that guy just kept going.

— Sanemi was fucking mad. He waited to have this nice date with you since forever, and now this creep was fucking ruining it. He balled his hands into fists after threatening the stand owner, standing beside you. His blood is boiling, and it’s starting to get hard to hold back and make sure this guy will never be able to creep out another woman like this with more violent means.

— Realising that Sanemi was the husband you meant, the owner apologised to you and handed you your sweets and ohagi. He seemingly didn’t expect your husband to be this intimidating looking.

— After walking off and taking a small walk, not even ohagi managed to lift his mood. Sanemi was so pissed at this creep for making you uncomfortable. Ohhh, how badly he just wants to go back and beat this shithead into the curb.

— Sanemi’s mood lightened up slightly after seeing your happy face when he gifted you the hairpin after you and him got back home. He was glad that this date night wasn’t complete shit.

“Let’s go on another date again. This time in the woods or something, picking flowers n’ shit. I don’t wanna go back there for a while.”

🩷 Tengen Uzui 🩷

— Tengen and you went out to run some errands. The other girls got sick with the flu and you and your husband are the only ones who are still healthy. So, you two went out to grab some medicine, food, (a new carpet after Makio accidentally threw up on the old one) and some blankets for you and your husband, since Makio, Suma and Hinatsuru stole the cosiest ones.

— While you two shopped, Tengen remembered that he promised to pick up a basket of sweet potatoes for his friend Kyojuro the next time he went out. So, he quickly dashed off to grab one.

— But while Tengen was gone, another man quickly found his place beside you and struck up a conversation.

— This man seemed nice, complimenting you on your appearance and choice of blankets. He was seemingly flirting with you, and you noticed that. You tried subtly explaining that you wanted to buy blankets for you and your husband, the husband you loved very much.

“Well, your husband is very lucky to have such a beautiful lady like you.”

“Beautiful? Surely you meant astonishingly gorgeous, flashy, beautiful AND incredibly attractive? Yes, I’m extremely lucky!”

— While this man was complimenting you, Tengen snuck up on you two and scared the life out of this random man with his voice. He easily held the basket of a sweet potato on his shoulder with one arm, towering over this man and looking down at him.

— Tengen doesn’t really get jealous. He trusts you and will instead show his affections to you right in front of the person, making them uncomfortable enough to leave. He would wrap his arm around your waist and coo at you, calling you cheesy petnames and smooching you all over your face. Sometimes, if he feels especially playful today, he’d cup your face and kisses you, holding his lips on yours for up to ten to fifteen seconds, or until you need air to breathe. This would make any person trying to flirt with you so uncomfortable, they’d quickly disappear.

— After an event like this, Tengen would tease you immensely about it.

“See? I’m not the only one who knows that I have the flashiest wife in all of Japan. No, no… the flashiest wife of the whole world!!”

💠

Thanks for reading! Hope you enjoyed.

Anyways, make sure to EAT, SLEEP and DRINK enough!

Take care of yourselves <3

Here’s my Hashira masterlist.

Here’s my Demon masterlist.

[aphroditelovesu]

Yan!Husband Alexander the Great pretty please? 🥹

❝ 📜 — lady l: here! I hope you like it and forgive me for any mistakes! ❤️

❝tw: possessive behavior, mention of death and toxic relationships.

❝📜pairing: yandere!alexander the great x female!reader.

Alexander had no thoughts of getting married anytime soon or, according to some sources, getting married at all. The rumors were always varied, some said he didn't want a wife and others went as far as saying he wasn't attracted to women.

This continued for some time until he met you and decided he would take you as his wife. Alexander found himself enchanted by the way you spoke, your smile and the look you had. He knew he would have to become your husband and so he did.

Although his generals were surprised and some even worried about his choice of bride, Alexander was resolute. He fell in love with strength and with an intensity that few could resist, making a point of showing his power and determination.

Alexander's marriage to you was a grand event, worthy of a King who conquered vast territories and accumulated immense power. The ceremony was held with all the pomp and circumstance expected from an event of such magnitude. Alexander wanted the world to know the importance of this union.

The preparation for the wedding was meticulous. From the luxurious costumes, decorated with embroidery and precious stones, to the sumptuous banquet that would be served to the guests. Everything was handpicked to reflect Alexander's greatness and the respect and love he felt for you.

As you exchanged your vows, Alexander spoke with a passion that touched everyone present. He has promised to love, protect, and honor you no matter what adversity may arise. His generals, although still surprised, could not help but feel the impact of that devotion. Any doubts regarding the choice of the bride were put to rest at that moment.

Alexander proved to be a very understanding husband, although authoritarian and possessive. He doesn't like being contradicted and, although he will listen to your opinions and desires, he is unlikely to change his mind when he gets one in his head. But with the right persuasion, he will do what you want.

He will spoil you without scruple, all the best to his Queen. Although, in the beginning at least, Alexander tends to maintain a more spartan style, the same will not apply to you. You will be showered in jewels, the richest fabrics, servants and anything else you could desire. You will have whatever booty you want.

Alexander is extremely possessive and this is very evident in the way he acts around you. He's always close to you when you're together in public, the way he places his hands on your waist, a dark look at anyone who looks at you for too long. He will not tolerate potential rivals in any way.

Quality moments with him are limited to reading, riding horses, bathing together and just exchanging caresses. Alexander, although he won't admit it, enjoys being spoiled by you and will happily accept any kind of affection you are willing to give him. And he will be happy to offer the same. And massages, he loves massaging you.

Alexander is also protective, although not overly so. He will make sure that you always have an escort wherever you go and that you are always fed and happy.

Even if he takes other wives in the future for political reasons, you will always be his favorite and his first. He will always be sure to remind you that you are the one who has his heart.

If anything were to happen to you, no matter how small, all hell would break loose. Alexander can become extremely violent and cruel when necessary and he will have no qualms about killing, maiming, or torturing anyone who poses a threat to you. He will destroy cities for you, kill the men and enslave their inhabitants. All for you.

Alexander's love for you, his wife, has become legendary. He is deeply devoted to you and will do anything you ask. You hold a great deal of power over him, one that he is only too happy to allow. After all, he is as much yours as you are his.

[kidovna]

anonymous said: a link to a tweet that said something like ‘stop giving older will a moustache. it is mischaracterising him because he’s not overly-masculine.’ (i’m posting it like this to not mention the username of the original tweeter)

here’s all the times i’ve mischaracterised will byers <3

in all seriousness, i’m sorry but it’s presumptuous to think that your headcanon is the only one that’s right.

yes, headcanon. because we haven’t seen 30 y/o will. we haven’t seen him out and proud. we don’t know how hopper and mr.clarke (both who have mustaches) being the two most influential adult men in his growing years could change the way he presents himself. it literally cannot be mischaracterising when the oldest version of will we know is 16.

it’s okay to have a different opinion. if you think will is going to be clean shaven for the rest of his life, that’s your take. i personally don’t think will is immune to making era and age appropriate fashion choices 🤷🏾 i also thought mustaches were awful when i was 16. i’ve since grown up and can appreciate a good stache.

and lastly, calling mustaches/facial & body hair overly-masculine is just… wrong. case in point:

freddie mercury, alok v menon, and esther calixte-bea

again, i paraphrased and posted this without the username because i don’t want anyone to go and pick an argument with op if you find the tweet. i just think that the byler fandom has always had the knack for getting offended by harmless headcanons like this and you guys need to chill.

you can say “i dislike mustaches. it’s just not for me.” without saying “you’re mischaracterising this fictional character by giving an older version of him a mustache”. something doesn’t have to be wrong for you to not like it.

Anyhow, here’s my headcanon of how hopper would react when he sees will with a mustache for the first time. I also headcanon that will starts greying very early because of all the trauma and stress he experienced as a kid.