#a small part of was like ‘wait are they taking the piss’ but like? im guessing not lol

[femboycharles]

oscar topping mark….. i can see it

mark feeling very weird and guilty about fucking this guy who. is half his age and someone for whom he is responsible. and oscar’s just like. fine. don’t fuck me. what if i fuck you instead. and mark gets very flustered because he hadn’t thought of that before but he can’t stop thinking about it now. he ends up crying while oscar’s dick is in his ass. how embarrassing.

anon I’m so sorry I kind of just laughed reading this at first alslsks (I’ve been half awake for a while now)

I’m still laughing reading the last part alslsk help

BUT RIGHT YEAH idk I like the idea of kind of turning the power dynamic on its head and Oscar ‘being in charge’ etc

[fallbhind]

‘CASUAL’ RAFE CAMERON

genre smut, angst wordcount 1.4k

❝ i've heard so many rumors. ❜

content warnings ,, mentions oral (f!receiving), p in v, masterbation in the bathroom, 'no attachment sex', rumors (blegh, drama llama.), rafe and reader break up. s1 era.

it was so tiring being rafe's quick fix because you just wanted a real thing, y'know, not some quickie on his couch. the worst thing? your friends (not so friendly friends) call you a loser because you still hanging out with him, when any girl would have done dumped him and found someone better. but he is, or was your better.

sure, you did everything with rafe (when he called you up, not when you asked. sure one day you were fed up, left him a voicemail because of course he wouldn't pick up for you. "i've heard so many rumors." you said through the crackly phone. "that i'm just some girl you bang on your couch, i can't believe i thought you thought of me better."

an hour later (per usual), he answered you an hour later, telling you to 'hurry your ass out to tanneyhill'

you thought for a long hard while before ultimately deciding to head out to tanneyhill. where death literally layer waiting for you in your grave. you knew quite well what he was mad about and what he wanted, because you've sent multiple voicemails about the rumors going around outerbanks, you've heard about them and you‘be literally heard tourons living in the drama with you and rafe.

and you could never leave your back turned to long before people behind started murmuring up a storm.

you walked closer to your death in your busted up converses, running over impossible scenarios in your head. you stopped at the gate, texting rafe 'im here come to the gate.' you said with all intentions to be sassy. when you saw him, his pushed back curtain bangs, every part of him looked so hot.

he opened the gate, telling you to come on. rafe roughly grabbed your arm, taking you to his fathers study room were he did most of his work. whilst you were extremely liked throughout the cameron household, only you, rafe and maybe even sarah knew the real intent to your relationship. rafe said annoyingly, "we're not together, let me make myself clear.

it was like his mood immediately changed as he continued, "just a quick fix whenever we need it." when what he really meant to say was when he needed it. maybe you really should dump him. if that's how it really works. he kissed your forehead, "'n baby, no attachment." though three weeks ago he excused the both of you so he could be knee deep in the passenger seat while he was eating you out, remembering all those sweet nothings he whispered into you pussy that made you give him what he wanted. not to mention, he always acted so lovey dovey with you. and it was about time you got fed up.

you didn't expect for his step-mom, rose, two weeks later after the major argument with rafe to invite you for dinner at tanneyhill. rafe, put on a mock smile, ready to peel the skims dress off your body. you were greeted by ward, and did he piss you off, with the fake smiling and his eyes trailing across your body whenever he could. perv.

"welcome, you look nice and sophisticated." ward said with the nicest tone he could bear, "no wonder rafe doesn't bring you up, your so lovely i'd hog you to." he laughed, and it sounded so fake. rafe had his hand on the small of your back as he led you into the dining room.

you took a seat in between wheezie and sarah, rafe sat across from you, with a pissed off expression. like, how could your's and his situation be casual now? you've literally done every thing, fingering, eating you out, a little bit of intercourse action, you've jerked and sucked him off, and you've let him jerk off onto your tits, and it was somehow casual.

after dinner, rafe again, excused you and him to go to the bathroom. he led you to the bathroom, shutting the door as he told you demanding to get on his counter, you back pressing against the mirror. "fuck, y'look s'good tonight." he pushed up the skims dress up to your hips, "'n no underwear?"

"all'that arguin' f'nothin', still my sweet, sweet sluty girl, ain't you?" he slowly rubbed your thighs , "you gotta be quiet though, don't want to embarrass yourself, do you?" he smugly grinned when you nodded, he dipped his fingers into your cunt, and your let out a surprised gasp, squeezing around his fingers.

he kissed you, whispering sweet nothings like you and him didn't just have an argument two weeks ago.

he unbuttoned his pants, using his index to hook the loops were a belt would be to shove them down, following his boxers. he wiped the pre-cum off his tips, using his thumb to slide it into your mouth. "my girl takes everything." he whispered as you attentively sucked on his finger.

you sucked off all the pre-cum off his cock, rafe patting your cheek gently. he spread your legs more, giving him a great view of your pretty, coated pearl, pressing his finger against it, you rolled your head back into the mirror.

"rr-rafe!" you stuttered out as you cried out. he pulled away from your pretty pearl, aligning his cock with your tight hole. he thrusted into your hole, making you cry out for him again.

he squeezed your cheek, holding you in between his thumb and index finger. "c'mon baby give me more than that. not to loud though." he whispered harshly against your neck, gripping your thighs as he kept repeatedly bullying his way into you. and without break, he kept thrusting his cock into you, with a sneaky smirk. "your my girl aintchu?" he kissed your neck, taking a rest inside you.

rafe nipped at your neck as he moved his cock against your gummy hole. feeling you squeeze around him when he bite and sucked on your neck, he kept doing it. even if it felt like you wanted to squeeze his cock off inside of you. "s'tight. jus' how i like it." he whispered against your shoulder, bullying his way back in you as your gummy walls tried to push him out. he aggressively grunted in your ear, feeling the warmness off your breath as you let out a whimper and even softer moans. you gasped when he touched your g-spot, immediately convulsing around him but not yet coming on his cock.

he'd pulled out just before you could finish. he pulled his boxers, following his pants. he buttoned them up, leaving you desperate for release. you found yourself rubbing your clit trying any method of running your clit to come, though you weren't quite being able to finish off yourself. maybe the problem was that you never had to do anything yourself. you came on rafe's cock than he would come on your stomach.

you tugged your black skims dress back down, putting your heels back on as well before making your way out of the bathroom. you sat across from rafe as he had the satisfaction of making you better than before and not helping you like usual. it was great to see you a little grumpy, whilst a little nervous because you decided to be a little slut and go no underwear. but doesn't mean you weren't his little slut.

you were obviously out of it, because sarah had to tap you back into reality as everyone started eating. you cut the steak up before taking a bite of it. "this is really good ms. cameron, you'll have to teach me how to make it." you said cheerfully. rose smiled at you and nodded.

she was really proud of the fact you thought it was that good, but than of course, her cooking for the cameron's was something any mother should do, while some might think that she'd hire someone, she did it herself.

a week later, your friends had told you rafe had said it was casual still and that 'you get off when he hit it' when he never hit your clit not once. sure he left you drying for release but that wasn't the point. and that was near the last straw for you. you were tired.

you wanted a real relationship which was obvious that rafe wasn't ready for, so you found yourself calling him. and again, it wasn't something were he'd answer you, you said to him through the voicemail "i hate that i let this drag on so long, now i hate myself." you took a breath, "we're done." you said before slipping your phone in your pocket and walking away from the wreck after just having breakfast with your friend.

TAGS .ᐟ @archiveofvirtue @sematarygirls @beausling @mattsdolll @pr3ttyf4wn

@wi4hfulth1nking @gibson-g1rl

[poppy-metal]

Art punishing you as Tashi sits in an arm chair directing him. You're lying over some pillows on the bed sobbing and pleading for mercy as Art clutches his belt tightly in his hand, but there's none in her eyes as she smirks at you. The only word she utters is: 'Harder'

RUFF RUFF

no nice cop <///3 just two mean ones. you probably acted really out of line and usually your testing of the rules just irks tashi - arts always been lenient with you - more than willing to coddle you. most of the time. sometimes you do piss him off though -

thinking you probably forgot to check in with either of them because you were flippant enough to let your phone die while you were out with friends. at a club no less. and it's not like you're not allowed to have fun - but they need to know you're safe. you dont update them and arts sick with worry over it - on the verge of wanting to file a missing persons report and pacing back and forth. tashi's more calm, but worry pinches at her too - she knows you probably just had too much to drink and haven't checked your phone but there's always a chance something bad happened -

you don't text them back until the afternoon the next day - and you already know from the clipped way they both respond you're in trouble. arts never short with you - but his 'Okay. Thanks.' when you finally reassure him you're fine makes you swallow nervously. you feel terrible because you know the kind of person he is and you read back to messages he sent you last night while you were black out drunk and the desperation in them.

the sub has a responsibility, too, not just the dom. by the time you're picked up and brought to their home you're near tears and buzzing with the need to be punished yourself, without prompting. you were so bad. part of the deal of being their sub was letting them know your whereabouts and checking in and you'd failed.

you don't expect art to be the one doling out the punishment, though. he's given you spankings before - though always over his lap and by his hands - warm and intimate and more for pleasure than pain.

you want it regardless - maybe even more so because it's art doing it, knowing you'd worried him the most - seeing the hurt in his eyes under the cool gaze. you know he's genuinely angry with you, which is rare. it makes tashi the one you look to with your pleading eyes when you're gripping the comforter in your hands, the sound of arts belt sending a shiver down your spine.

"color?" tashi asks you - and you make yourself sink into the bed and arch your back, offering your ass and showing you know you deserve this.

"green," you whisper. feel art inhale behind you as he nudges your legs apart just a little. you wonder if he knows the best position to be in from receiving these kinds of punishment himself. everything he learned about domming he learned from his wife, after all. being a switch makes him more knowledgeable than either of you - you, a full sub, and tashi, a full dom - he knows how to wield the belt properly and he knows how best for you to take it.

"you know why you're being punished?"

you nod.

"say it."

shame courses through you. "I didn't check in with you when I should have. I made you worry."

"are you sorry?"

"yes."

tashi crosses her legs. jerks her chin, "tell him."

you glance behind you, meet arts eyes. there's a storm brewing in them - he's angry - that left over fear for your safety transferred into all this pent up energy he needs to release. you lick your lips, mean it genuinely when you say - "im sorry -"

the belt is wrapped around his fist - the metal end gripped in his palm - and that's one small mercy - tashi would have had the metal part the part that lashes your skin - she'd draw blood. nothing about it would draw pleasure - just pain. you have no doubt the beating art is about to dole out will hurt - but you're thankful he still cares enough for you at the moment to not want to hurt you too badly.

his gaze flicks up from your waiting ass to meet your eyes - his jaw clenching. "I don't know if you are." he says softly. "but I plan on making you."

your cunt pulses at that - you turn your face back to the bed and have just enough time to breathe in once before the first hit comes.

the belt is leather - and art knows what he's doing.

it stings immediately - so much worse than his palm does - it jolts your body up the bed and leaves the spot where the belt landed burning when he pulls it back. the yelp that leaves your throat is loud but you just curl your fingers into the bed harder - brace yourself for more lashes to come - for alot more burning to happen -

by the first 5, your body is tense and trembling and by 10, you're actively crying. you stop being able to keep count after the double digits - just choking on whimpers with every smack against your bare flesh - and yet everytime your color is asked, you gasp out "green," you know your limits - you can take this. more than that - you want to take it.

even when tashi bites down on her lip and suggests art do it harder - and art obeys - you don't tap out. you very nearly do - feeling like if he hits you just one more time he's going to split your flesh and you'll never heal - never be able to sit comfortably again in your life - but you've had worse - you've taken and survived worse - and despite the pain - your cunt stays throbbing -

it's not fun - it's a punishment - a real one, a correction you'll work hard not to have to endure again - but you do endure.

when it's done - and the belt clatters to the floor and your art comes down and he's kissing the side of your neck and your cheek and turning your head so he can see you, glassy eyed and flushed - "did I do good?" is all you want to know.

he kisses your lax mouth. none of the tenseness he carried before is there anymore - worked out of his body - his hand cards through your hair so gently. "you did amazing, baby." another kiss. "so good. tashi's getting something for the pain now, okay?"

you hum, stretch toward him like a cat and he lets you nuzzle him - you stay on your stomach because you know moving onto your back will just make your ass scream right now - so you rest your head in arts lap as he strokes your hair for you. murmurs about how beautiful you are and how proud of you he is. he's in awe of you, really.

your tears dry up quickly, only to prick back up again when tashi rubs ointment on your tender ass - so fucking sore and her voice is soft when she says "this will help soothe the burning feeling. it's gonna hurt to sit tomorrow, maybe for a couple days. but I'm going to take care of you - we both are."

if there's one positive from having your ass beat it's this - the aftermath. being treated like a utter princess - not like you aren't always spoiled, but they don't let you lift even a finger the next couple days. you spend most of your time in either arts lap - or curled up against tashi - she even gets you a special heating pad for your butt that feels really nice. it aches a little too much to have sex - the bouncing of your ass back against flesh as it smacks would irritate your skin too much, but that doesn't stop art from eating you out so gently it makes you cry - doesn't stop tashi from rubbing your little clit and pressing her favorite vibrator against you - doesn't stop art from rubbing the head of his cock through your folds, telling you all the ways he's gonna fuck you the second you tell him it doesn't hurt anymore -

you might cave a day earlier than you should - just because the ache of your tender ass bouncing on and off arts strong thighs is a kind of pain you adore.

[punk-in-docs]

A song of liars and beggars: part II

— Emperor Geta x Reader (Salacia)

— 5.3k words.

— Read all parts here: Part I — Part II — Part III — Part IV

Summary: You were raised outside of this Rome. Born into peace. To know of fathomless deep seas, and skies so big, they wrapped around your whole sight. The way that at night all you can smell are lemon trees kissed by salt. The jasmine plants wound around the white walls of the villa. Salacia. And now you are sent to Rome for your father in the Senate. There you will catch the attention of Geta; in all the wrong and darkest of ways— any reblog and comments are greatly appreciated 💙💙💙

TW: for this chapter; mainly violence and cruelty and mentions of death/imprisonment. also this has turned long winded im so sorry- i wish i could just bang out some gratuitous smut but noooo i need 7k of angst before penetration apparently --

The cell you are thrown into is poky small.

When the guards push you into it, you stumble and you fall. Stone breaks your landing. Collapsing in the dusty dirt. Soiling your pretty blue dress. The sea blue churned into mud. Into filth. Spoiled tide.

Bloody grit and sand sticking to your chin that still drips blood. Ichor dripped on your silk chest. Lip throbbing. Body bruised into the colour of nightshade petals.

You twist back, eyes blurred with tears, to see the dark expression under the Roman guards helmet.

Who spits at your feet and calls you a traitorous whore. He was the same one whose ring of fingertip bruises now circled your upper arm. Even though you were in chains.

Your surroundings are grim. There’s no window. No bearings. A bucket with filthy stagnant water sits in the corner.

The air is stale. Packed close and scorching. It reeks of piss and decay. Necrosis. Festering. Yellow bleached skulls. You hear the wailing shouts of men. The rattle of chains. You will be left down here until they come to take you. In whatever form that may be. Beheading. Or a stoning.

Maybe the Emperors really are gods. Those twin golden growling wolves. And now they’ve thrown you down to the underworld. Left you down here with the dying and the dirt and the vermin for company.

The walls are grimy stone, and strung with chains. Torches the only lick of civilised orange light in these otherwise miserable caverns. Rats creep along the floors - the scurry and click of claws. Not that they’ll find any scrap of food near here. There’s none to be had. Not even corpses. Death isn’t merciful enough to visit here.

Bile coats the back of your tongue. Sour and acetic. The men in the cells opposite you m, sneer and call filthy propositions in the dark. Dark so thick it was like wool. Ask to see under your pretty dress. Leering at you. Puckering kisses.

You are a rare drop of clean ocean in this savagery to them. Pure. A blue crocus blossoming in a crack in the barren dessert. Wash away the sin. Their rotten teeth shine in the dark like knives. Hungry and waiting.

You curl into a ball in the corner. Bring your knees to your chest. Cower in the shadows as the rats run past your feet. Clammy tails flicking over your toes.

You sob quietly. Arms folded. One smashed elbow drying to sticky blood, stuck with grit from your collapse.

Your father was torn away before you could see what happened or where they took him. You heard his shouts at Macrinus, his begging, but couldn’t see where he was taken. You couldn’t bear thinking about the alternative.

Your brothers body will be laying in a paupers grave somewhere you’ll never know. Never be able to go and lay orange gladiolus flowers before his headstone. Forgotten. Your mother will be told nothing of this- of you. Of the supposed treason-

Or maybe a garrison of soldiers were already marching on their way to deliver news. To slaughter the traitors family in that white villa by the sea. Smear crimson up the walls- droplets of red splashed on the jasmine petals. You think of the linen shifts your sisters ramble around in. You think how the perfect hues of soft blues and olives greens will be ruined with the garish red of blood-

You squeeze your eyes shut. Drops of salty ocean squeezing down your cheeks. And even that is of no use to you now. Landed sea nymph. Away from the oceans call. And now you’re bound for desolation. Gasping. Dying. Dragged to land by men who want to pick at your scales and leave you raw, bare.

You never should’ve left home. Not for a distant hollow man and his even emptier words.

Sleep doesn’t come to you. Nor are you awake. You slouch, curled on the cold dirty floor and envelop yourself into the grit and dirt. Abrasive on your soft milk-and-honey skin. The cornflower blue of your dress matted with mucky earth.

You enter a state between waking and sleep. A shallow one, spliced with sliced necks, pooling blood on biscuit coloured sand, and your brothers final cry.

Sounds start chipping at you. The slap of metal. Clicking and shuffling steps.

A jolt across your cell rouses you from your purgatory. Head snapping up on your shoulders. When you accustomed your eyes to the dim, the sight of the person unlocking your cell, makes your stomach plummet.

General Acacius.

There’s no mistaking him for another. That unmistakably noble profile. The firm set of his brow. His aquiline nose. The curl and bend of his greying hair. The way he looks at you - it might just be the kindest thing you’ve been awarded in this abrasive hell you find yourself in.

You raise to your wobbly feet. Heart felt like it had taken to thudding in your throat. Choking tempo as it beats there. Muscle thick and ticking on the back of your tongue.

One thought echoed around your mind; this was to be the path to your death.

You were being led by the General of the armies of Rome. It seemed a grand imposition for escorting a mere slip of a traitor to her death.

War has thickened his body. Muscular arms swing from a wide back and shoulders. Sun weathered skin which spoke of his time out in the elements, fighting for the glories and victories of Rome. Age lay in the silver threaded though his hair. The muted pain in his gait of past injuries catching up with him. Body littered with scars that probably ache and tug. Mars made flesh. Glory for Rome. Victory.

You swallowed. Throat dry. Easing your way to the door on uncertain feet. Hands clasped in chains still. They feel heavy as mountains to carry along. He’s come with guards. Four of them. Armed and marching to the beat of his strides. A valorous man indeed.

You step close to the heavily armoured man. Salty tears leaking down your cheeks that you don’t care to bat away. Atleast one spec of home will cling to your skin when life is gone. Even if it is only your silly scared tears.

He leans close to you when you come to the door

Suddenly a warm hand - calluses and hard furrows that only come from years of grasping a sword hilt - is around your forearm to steady. He unlocks the iron heavy chains and cuffs that surround your wrists. The chafing welts they left circling your wrists as the only impression of your imprisonment.

It’s the kindest touch you’ve felt in what seems like years.

You look at him with incredulity. He claims it all off you so easily. You were easy to devour. Every emotion worn open on your face.

Your lashes glued together with tears. Eyes so wide. Big and shining and they must reflect spring sun off beaded waves like a blanket of sapphires. A question lingers, tucked back shyly behind your teeth. Unable to wander off the curl of your tongue.

Why are you unlocking my hands?

He tilts his head at you. It’s almost chiding.

An unexpected warmth flows from his dark eyes. It’s too dark down here in this filthy stuffy pit to discern their colour. They swing somewhere between bronze and amber.

There is a mercy in them, a mercy to him, you’ve seldom seen anywhere else. Let alone a man as slaked in blood as he is.

Maybe it’s mercy- more likely that it’s pity.

He throws the shackles aside to the guard. Eyes for a long moment the way the iron has cut into your wrists. Raw skin. Damaging such a fine beautifully untouched creature.

He’s certain there’s worse damage to come to you.

His voice when he speaks is honey thick. Deep as it carved down all the rock walls around you. Louder than the clanking of chains and the wails from prisoners. Whom, you noticed, suddenly quieted down. They were whipped when they spoke up, you guess. So they go quiet. Like cowed dogs.

“I’ve slaughtered many a traitor in my time. You don’t seem a danger to me, or my men.” He observed. It’s both a warning and a comment.

It’s ridiculous really. The thought you could be a threat. All slippery, skin soft and coveted as a purely formed ocean pearl.

When you are in fact shivering in a silky thin dress the colour of harmless cornflowers. Huddled in your cell corner gently spilling tears. No hint of resistance or fiery hatred. No storm to be found here in your veins that houses entire oceans and their tempestuous wrath.

He knows innocence when he sees it. That rare, very rare, taste that clings to his tongue like sugary sweet ripe fruit. Something to cut and slice through all the ichor and viscera he all too well knows the flavour of. There’s a calmness to you. A damned sort of acceptance. Calm as still waters.

“Come.” He tilts his head. “The likes of you doesn’t belong down here.” You with your stock of noble blood, shouldn’t perish forgotten in these filthy caverns.

He walks to the pathway that you vaguely recall you were led down. The one that ascends steps and up into daylight. Out from the dust and the dirt and the still living bones of the trapped and the damned.

“General. Pray tell me. Is my father dead?” You ask. Whisper a pathetic imitation of your voice. Raw and weak. Choking on the unknown.

His face is stiff. He doesn’t seem inclined to reply.

“I cannot give you answers.” He chides. He turned his back to you. And his brute tone slaughtered any further enquiry you may have felt compelled to make.

You shrink down as you fell into step. Being led in your dirty dress, littered in cuts and scrapes.

Numerous guards form a metal lined wall around and behind you. Shields and swords and the metal clink of their steps. Trapping you. Armoured cage for a pretty captive. You wince when the new sunlight hits your eyes. Bright and acidic. Gulp for thick air that meets your lungs like ambrosia.

You walk and follow, silently. Waiting to come to the place you’d die.

Expecting to be led to gallows. Or an executioners block. Maybe even a court lined with people, one where you’d be trialed to death for a plot you’d no idea even existed. Maybe you’d be shoved into the coliseum on the next fight to be mauled to shreds by lions. Gouged by teeth and claw. Die screaming in the same dirt as your brother did.

It doesn’t come. None of that comes.

Your surroundings change again and you find yourself outside the grand walls of the coliseum. Looking up at the huge enormity of its powerful walls. The golden stone standing proud against the searing blue sky.

You’re marched across the dusty dirt of a yard, to yet another cage; this one held bars just like your previous one. A cage built on the back of a cart that has two horses ready to pull it along the capital roads. The general opens the barred door and gestures guards in around you.

One of the soldiers hit you forwards with a harsh shove. The back of his sword hilt. A hard enough shove for you to know it would purple to a bruise soon enough. Mulberry purple staining your skin at the back of your hip. You barely even yelp.

The general admonishes the soldier harshly for his rough treatment. You were to be brought - unmolested.

A word the Emperor had ordered with a growing wolfish grin.

“Where am I being taken?” You dare ask. Words crack out your throat. Unused. Thirsty. Timid. Ocean starved. All this dry land is making you dizzy and miserable.

He explained. Tone grave. Before you are pulled inside the bars. Caged once more.

“You’ve been summoned.”

“By whom?” You seek.

His eyes weight into you. Wrapped in pity and severity. His words clang around your head. Coffin nails. Just like bars he shut around you.

“You’ve been requested by the Emperor himself.”

~

You struggle to comprehend the enormity of the palace before you.

Palatine hill boasted of the richest and finest palaces in all of Rome. Including the imperial palace. The huge sprawling building. The importance and grandeur of these halls weighted on you like tonne heavy rocks.

You feel like a smear of dirt among these polished white walls and halls. Crawling with servants and guards. Stuffed with so much riches and finery. You’ve heard tale of how Emperors were hand picked by the gods. They were gods to the people they reigned over.

You are escorted once again out of a yard and into this place you’d heard only grand things about. Marched along corridors longer than you’d ever known. You saw fountains spitting streams of clear crystalline water and imperial gardens with huge tropical plants. Statues of marble and tiled mosaic floors that shine as if recently scrubbed.

Guards at every door. Servants clad in cloth finer than you’ve ever owned - or touched - they carry huge platters of bread or bowls spilling over with plump fruits. Large amphora jugs of wine held aloft in careful hands. This seemed like a luxurious heaven. You wondered if you’d see clouds, goddesses and sun beams even from your lowly mortal perch.

The guards keep you in step. Hauled along so fast you feel blisters aching at the balls of your feet. As you’re traipsed in. Bloodied and low. Beaten down. Your split lip has dried to a cut. You worry it with your tongue. The little whip cracks of pain a reminder of your mortality - one you’re certain you will be relieved of soon.

You are brought to a set of huge imperial doors by the general. Who is bid to enter right away.

Your eyes don’t know where to settle first; the room is one of the richest displays you’ve ever seen. Orange fabric the colour of vibrant mandarins, hangs in drapes over the open arches and doorways. Mosiac floors polished to a shine. There’s gold and marble statues and plinths. Paintings in dark deep colours of battle scenes. Swords and blood and male glory. As if it had come to life right before your eyes. This room is threaded with gold and devotion to male gods.

As is the man who sits leisurely awaiting you on a padded lectus. One spilling with tasseled silken cushions to soften his seat. Emperor Geta.

His robes were the same as when you last saw him. Dark jewel colours of black and blue. Gems cast in gold on each finger. Dark cloths with gold items of jewellery on his breast in the form of a broach. So much gold you don’t now where to test your eyes first.

Maybe he is a god. He certainly has all the riches of one. Stood before you as if he were Jupiter and all his delights. Thunderbolts seeping from his powerful fingers.

A golden crown of laurels ringing his light waved hair. His eyes was where true darkness laid; dark kohl ringing eyes the colour of the darkest Umbrian. Earth of shadow.

He was idly picking at food laid on a rose petal strewn table before him. You’ve never seen an offering of food so large and all for one. Cups of wine. Bread. Dried Fruit and a tiered stand flowing with fresh fruit. Some cheeses. Meats and fish. All laid on plates for him to pick over and discard, or saviour at his behest.

You wonder which category you’d fall into- the former appears the more likely.

Your stomach pangs for the smell of the freshly baked bread. The sweetness of the fruit. The tart wine. Tongue dry as sand and sluggish in your mouth.

“There you are. My little sea nymph.” He sneers over at you. One side of his lip curls upwards.

In panic, you bend the knee and bow your head, subservient, meek, and that makes him smile more.

He’s snapped his regal bejewelled fingers and had you bought to him. Bloodied and blinking dust out your eyes. Dirt stroked on your once fine dress. It now hangs in shredded tatters at the hem by your sandals. Blood spots dried like rusted petals. Brutal handling from guards lay in the bruises now scattering your lovely arms and the welts banding your wrists.

You want to cower behind the wall of guards. But you are rudely thrown forwards. Those shadowy eyes trace over your poorly clad form; you do feel like a minuscule scrap of dirt. A crack in a looking glass. A tarnish on something gleaming golden. The smear of imperfection allowed to exist in this heavenly palace.

He sees your hands are loose by your sides; unbound.

“Why is she not in chains, General? Have we stopped chaining our prisoners” He asks. Ire woven into his words. Eyes unflinching and hard and he scowls at Acacius. Who remained unmoved even in the face of his petulant wrath.

“I saw no need to chain her. Emperor. Such a woman in her position could surely not be a threat to you.” It’s a barb. A small sensible thorn, perhaps.

You flick your eyes across to the General.

“I didn’t even have to draw my sword or threaten her. She came willingly.” He tells his Emperor.

Like a sweetly led fool. A sacrificial creature led blindly to her own slaughter.

The guards stand to attention. Unwavering. Wall of armour and swords around your back as you cower. Eyes cast to the floor as you’re being discussed like a slab of meat. Something without autonomy or feeling.

You can feel Getas eyes on you still. Hard and weighty as warm metal. Searing into your skin. The way livestock are branded.

Those eyes are unrelenting. Violating. Scouring you up and down some more. Inspecting the span of your hips. The dip of your waist. The fall of your chest. Plump of your breasts and hips. The once pristine coil of your knotted hair.

Goddesses would envy you. The furies would want to tear down your beauty and goodness in wrath. Scratch out your eyes. Shear your hair. Anything to steal the golden thread of goodness from you.

Juno had blessed you and kept you indeed. Like you’re fresh out of her temple and sparkling with promise. He knew it the second he saw you. He made up his mind to have you then.

You had something. Something wrapped inside yourself like a shell protecting a pearl. Something good and virtuous. He wanted you all for himself.

If he was good as a god, then blessing himself with a wife who was a gift from the most beloved goddess was his right.

He can smell lemons and salt. And wondered if he inhaled the nubile skin of your neck and hair if then he’d find the source of it. Made him want to bite down on that supple neck and leave his mark-

“An unlikely source for a traitor do you not think so, General?” He asks.

General doesn’t answer but his expression is very telling. “My spies tell me she was not in the capital for two days before the suspected treason.” He offers.

Your stomach lurches, manages to tie itself into knots. Clammy sweat prickles your brow and your neck.

“Maybe she wasn’t aware of the plot. An unwilling participant dragged into the sordid scheme.” Geta speculates.

No answer comes from you still.

“Is she mute? I certainly heard her screams well enough at the coliseum.” He mocks. Impatient.

“Speak. Your Emperor demands it.” The General barks at you. You flinch at his sudden raised voice. Finally trailing your eyes from the mosaic tiles.

“I am not mute. Your majesty.” You explain. Feeling the tickle of humiliated tears at your eyes.

“I can offer no plea for innocence, except the truth that I had no knowledge as to my fathers schemes.”

Because no such schemes existed. Macrinus should be here in chains instead of you. The lying snake. He orchestrated the whole thing.

Geta savours your words. Drinks them in the way he’d taste wine. Rolls them around in his mouth.

He merely nods slightly. You hold your breath for his response.

“Come.” He sneers. “There’s something I want you to see.”

He guides you across to the huge marble pillars which guarded the open mouth of the balcony.

You walk behind him and come to the balustrade of white marble. Peering over the ledge. Out into the courtyard below where a cluster of soldiers and horses are gathered close.

“The soldiers will ride on my command.” He tells you. Sick delight in the power he wields.

When they pull away, and the sight below is exposed to you, your entire body wrenches forwards. Desperation grips you violently. A cry shattered out your throat.

They were going to quarter your father before your very eyes.

He stood, small and beaten, blood pouring from a gash to his head, in a filthy cloth tunic, because they’d humiliated him. Had him stripped of his noble senate robes.

His limbs each tied to separate riders on separate horses. When they galloped off in different directions, he would be torn to pieces. Barbaric.

Through a blackened eye and a swollen brow your father gazes up at you. Despair on his face. A once strong man brought so very low. It wounds you.

Geta is drinking in your every expression. The full horror and pain writ across your pretty face.

“No. No, mercy, please. Your majesty. I beg of you. Mercy.” You babble.

Eyes wide with desperation. Voice breaking as surely as your heart was. Cracking in two in your chest. Sharp as glass shards. Clinking to pieces sharp enough to make your insides bleed anew.

“Why should I spare a liar? Salacia?” He asks you. “Why should I not make an example of what happens to traitors in my court…” He demands. Eyes locked on you.

“He’s offered me things I don’t want or need to delay his death. Money. Information. I cannot help but feel it’s inevitably drawn him closer to it.”

He raises his hand, calmly. You sob. The riders bolt to attention. One more move and that would be it.

You flew for him. Unrestrained. Desperate. Willing to beg on your knees if needs be. You put yourself in front of him. Put your hands to him.

The General and his guards drew swords and came close. Geta turned and and ushered them back with a harsh wave of his fingers. He was enjoying this too much. The nature of despair- the clammy stench of desperation pouring off you like ocean waves.

You could only think of one instance that might appease his lust for blood-

Dying in the place of your elder for his crimes was all you had. All you clutched in your empty injured hands.

“Let me take his place. Put the bonds on me instead. Let me take his punishment. Make me the example.” You beg. Tears shiver and fall down your cheeks. Burning drips of salt spear at your lash-line.

In your desperation you cling to Getas chest. Your nails raking gold and the fine threads of the fabric coat he wore. He didn’t seem to mind. He seemed amused by it.

“Little Salacia.” The way he used your name with a brazenly satisfied smirk altered something in you.

An arm winds itself around your hip. Cups the back. Pressed a bruise that you want to hiss in pain at. But can’t.

His other hand rings your neck. Ghosts his thumb over the curve of your chin. Smearing tears with the gold and jewels on his fingers. You gasp. Air emptying out your lungs in one fell swoop.

“You have so much more to offer your Emperor than your death.” He says quietly. His meaning became intimate. Wrapped in insinuation.

Your mouth opened, no sound came. Your lower lip trembles. You glance down at your father who is crying. Straining, wrenching forwards at his bonds. Desperate to keep you from this.

Geta takes his hand and runs his hand through one knotted lock of it for a moment. Leaning in to savour the smell of you. He moans with it.

Definitely lemons. Mixed with something briny salt, the ocean. In odes to your name.

Your father sees this. The closeness. The insulation that this man would take you. He shouts from his bonds below. Begging.

“By the gods, spare her.” He cries.

“Not my daughter. It is my crime. Take me. I am here. Take me!”

With your father and oldest brother dead, your mothers and sisters would be destitute. They would be reduced to beggars. Brought low. With him alive they were respectable- reduced in honour perhaps, but at least they’d live.

Tears bite at your eyes. You let them. Blink them away.

“What’s say you? My patience is wearing thin…” Geta bullies. Hand dropping from your hair.

It pushes you to act.

“Servitude of my body. I will enslave myself to your every whim. Emperor.” You say through tears. Every sordid whim.

“Exile him.” Youoffer.

Geta’s eyes gleam to that. Intrigued. You would exile and dishonour your own father?

“Exile him from Rome and the Senate, and send him back to Corsica to be with my mother and sisters. Where he is needed.” You implore.

“And what of you, how will you serve me?” He drawls.

“I will stay here and act as your servant in whatever manner you wish.” You accept.

“I have servants. Little nymph. I don’t require any more servants. I don’t need whores or courtesans. What I do require, however, is a wife. One who will give me strong heirs.” He smiles. Clutching your hip in a strong, thick fingered hand.

Your throat constricts. Tears squeeze. As if he’s fisted a hand around your throat and squeezed and choked until you gave. Melted into his hands pliant.

Geta has you exactly where he wanted you. As he planned.

“I need your word you’ll spare him if I agree.” You counter. Eyes hard as diamond tips. Still watery and half logged in tears.

“My word is bond. He will leave this city unharmed.” He assures. Displeased at your doubt.

Clever little nymph, too. To bargain with a god.

Asking an Emperor like him to pledge his fealty. Were you any other commoner he’d have your tongue cut out for that insolence.

Then again, cornered creatures will snap and bite and claw for survival. They will do anything.

“Then I agree.” You cry. “I accept.”

His smirk grows. Wolfish. Unsticking a coil of hair from the blood on your cheek. And he’s close. Too close for your comfort.

“You will be my Empress.” He decides.

“My wife and my property. I will own you in every manner there is. You will give me healthy sons that will dethrone my brother.”

Those words make you shrivel inside.

What have you just agreed to. You may have delayed your fathers demise. But it appears you’ve just turned the sword aimed his way to your belly. Chalked a target on your own back instead- an eye for an eye-

He turns, keeping you in his hold, he lowers his hand.

“Exile that snake out of Rome. This instant-“ He orders sharply. “Take him to the city walls and tell him never to return or I will have his head on a platter for me and my wife.”

You watch with thinly veiled relief as the guards come in to cut his bonds and drag him by the collar.

You want to run to him. You want to embrace him and tell him to return to mother with kind words and love. He is dragged away out of sight.

Bleeding and battered. But safe.

You lock eyes. Same colour as yours, shaded ocean, surrounded by bloated skin and blood sheeting his face. Cut with paths of tears rolling down, before he is gruffly marched away. Dazed, bound, and bleeding. He is choking on his sobs too.

You didn’t even get to say goodbye. Nothing. No familial words. No kindness.

He was torn from you. Now your every whim is stolen away. Dictated by this man. This cruel stranger. One who would bed you and keep you cowed like a broodmare.

You stood there. Watching down on the scuffled marks in the dirt where he’d once been. Dust clouding. Now empty. It seemed like an illusion. Had it all just passed like air. Like a warm sea breeze. Your life altered in one brief moment of mercy and begging.

Geta turns to his General. “You are dismissed. Leave. Go win my wars.” He sneers curtly.

Acacius took his leave with a frown and a bow. Look directed to you as he did. “Emperor. Empress.”

The Emperor snapped his fingers. And within seconds, servants scurried silently from other rooms. A handful of maidens came. Long hair unbound. Robes of orange and blue. He snapped his orders at them. They folded their hands in front of themselves. Heads low as they obeyed.

“Escort my new bride to her chambers. Have her bathed and made presentable. Put her in something decent. We will marry at dusk.” He informs. Glancing you up and down with a leer.

“Then she will grace my bed. Doing her duty like a proper wife.”

He strides over to you where you stand on the balcony, the marble thing holding you up. All strength sapped. Your knees and arms and bones were water. Not marrow.

It was always foam whipped off the waves that made you up. And now you sagged with it. Plaint and drowning. A sad drowned maiden in her brook. A doomed saint of the sea.

“Leave her hair unbound. I like it down.” He orders. Wrenching his hand to the back of your neck. You wither under his touch. He senses this.

“Be grateful. I spared your filthy treasonous father. But I can still make your existence an unpleasant one if I choose.” He warns.

He leans close to claim your mouth in a kiss so sudden and brazen it makes you weak.

His lips are pillow soft and anything but delicate. His tongue seeks your mouth, licks the blood off the healing cut. Moans sordidly when he does. He kisses like a starving hound.

A trail of spit connects your mouths when he pulls away. He smears it to your chin with a finger. Rubs his essence into your skin to stay forever stained.

“I eagerly await to taste more of you later. Empress. Don’t disappoint me. It’s not a wrath you want to risk.”

“Yes, Emperor.” You sigh.

He leaves you so quick, you almost keel over. The servants wait patiently to escort you out in his absence.

In the faraway sky, over the capital, new clouds sag and bloat. Darkly stalking across the once clear blue. The sky turns to grey and churning clouds. It’s too bad you couldn’t see the sea. You had a feeling there would thrashing, heaving storms and waves double the size of these damned palace walls.

Thunder crashes in the distant gathering dark. The ocean wanted you back. Neptune’s rage for the loss of you. You picture home. Humble white walls. The wind so fierce it ripped petals clean off the climbing vines of jasmine. The lemon trees swaying and rocked violently. News of treason and abduction reaching your sisters’ horrified ears. Your mothers cries in situ with the storm.

You watch at the sky until rain pelts the marble walls like lashes. Rain dots your skin. Cold stroking your hair and shoulders. Marring dark blue arrows down your ruined dress. Maybe you’re grieving-

A servant girl has to hook a hand on your shoulder and kindly try to urge you inside. Your tears entwined with the howling rain. It feels like that’s all that’s left of you.

~

Tagging in the hopes this finds its way to the right people- thank you--

@ceriseheaven @lurkingprincess @ramona-thorns @joequinnswhore @iliveforotps @eddiesskittle @roosterisdaddy36 @rose-tinted @lluviamg06 @ravensfromvalhalla @fujiihime @youaremyfamiliar @captain-tch @ghosttownwherenoonegoes @svenyves @sammararaven @feralgoblinbabe @groupie-love-71 @andromeda-andromeda @gvtosbith @munsonswhoresposts2 @shenevertricks1831 @hazzaismyreligion @harrys-titties @anaisweird @cinnamoncunt @red-lipstick-bisexual @wheels-of-despair @tvserie-s-world @callmeloverr @ho-for-joequinn-fics @bettyfrommars @rip-quizilla @songforeddiemunson @usedtobecooler @peachesandfiends @littlelioncub43 @heyndrix @babybluebex @blueywrites @joejoequinnquinn @cool-nick-miller @sheneedsrocknroll92 @rehfan @pedgito @dracomaledicte @gamingaquarius @mypoisonedvine @sharp-and-swift @chaptersleftunwritten

[caelivir]

rayne ames relationship hcs (part ii)

— WARNING: creepy behavior from a guy but that’s it

— author’s note. i feel like the author’s note from when i posted this doesn’t apply anymore, but anyway, this is part two but isn’t actually because i lost the first part when i accidentally deleted my account… again im so sorry. ALSO!! the writing is a little different bc i’m cringing rereading my old stuff. (how did u guys let that slide)

— HUGE HUGE HUGE THANK YOU TO @mikadzukis FOR SAVING MY OLD HCS I AM INDEBTED TO U!!!!

rayne ames loves dates with you. he loves them.

but he especially loves picnic dates

you introduced him to the idea on one of his days off

you promised it wasn’t going to be draining because you knew being a visionary is a taxing job

so he agreed

and he loved it

spread across the red and white checkered picnic blanket are plates of grapes, cheese, and sandwiches. two goblets of iced tea rest on top of a wooden board so they can remain balanced.

rayne’s large hands support his weight as he leans back onto the blanket. the half-blonde cranes his neck to stare up at the leaves. rays of sunlight peek through slivers of space between them. a butterfly flutters its wings above him.

“rayne!” you call for his attention.

your lover hums as a reply before directing his eyes toward you, offering his full attention.

“i made something for you.” you speak, grabbing for another basket on the blanket. you lift up the cover, reaching carefully inside it. you pull out a cake platter and set aside the lid that protected the dessert residing on it.

“it’s a cake!” you continue with a smile. “this is the first time you’ve been off in a while so i thought i could make a cake to celebrate! i even decorated it with some bunnies!”

a small grin grows on the visionary’s face. he pushes himself up. rayne takes the platter out of your hand and gently places it on a free board on the blanket. you’re caught in surprise as his arms wrap themselves around your waist. his head finds warmth in the crook of your neck.

“thank you.” he whispers.

rayne’s protective of you

he knows you’re capable of fighting your own battles, but there are certain situations where he just had to take care of it

if someone’s saying things about you or harassing you, he isn’t going to tolerate that

the entirety of easton knows not to mess with you, because messing with you means messing with rayne, and no one wants to put themselves through that

he’s already scary enough as is so all it takes is a couple of threats for the person to leave cowering in fear

you wait outside of the café as rayne uses the restroom. people of all ages each other as they navigate their ways theough marchétte street. one of them approaches you, but it’s not rayne.

“so what’s a fine thing like you doing alone here in the street.” a guy smirks, trailing his eyes up and down your body. you shift uncomfortably. he’s definitely a few years older than you and inches taller than rayne. a single line cuts through his right cheek, indicating his level of magic.

you swallow down an anxious gulp before speaking. “i’m with my boyfriend.”

“tell me gorgeous,” the man’s hand travels down the path of your jaw. you’re disgusted by his touch. “does your boyfriend like to share?”

“i really think you should go.” you respond firmly, shoving the grimy hand away from your face.

the guy chuckles, raising his hands in defense. “no need to get aggressive, sweetheart! i just want to know!”

“and who the hell are you?” a familiar deep voice says from behind you. you turn around to discover rayne, and your eyes light up at his appearance. you’re well acquainted with the detachment and chilling coldness of rayne’s gaze, but now, there’s a fire behind them.

rage.

he’s pissed.

recognition becomes evident in the man’s face, and it dawns on him that he just messed with a divine visionary’s lover, but before he can retreat, rayne steps in front of you. he yanks your harasser down to your level. you don’t know what the half-blonde says, but it’s clear that it sparks fear into the features of the other man. once rayne’s finishes with him, he apologizes profusely before running away in the opposite direction.

the anger behind rayne’s eyes fade; they soften when he finds your gaze. “are you okay.”

you grin. “yeah, now that you’re here.”

rayne lets you wear his robes

whenever you hang out in his dorm, your first instinct is to go through his closet and take them

when you first did it, he was going to protest

but you looked so cute i. them that he decided to let it slide

you especially like wearing them when you nap

though you wearing his robes does pose some problems for him from time to time

“you’re late,” orter points out from his seat at the table. his fingers slide the frame of his glasses up his nose. “and where’s your visionary robe?”

rayne strolls past the desert came, not bothering to answer for his actions. he didn’t want to admit—especially to orter of all people—the reason behind his missing robe.

this morning, just as he was almost ready to leave for the divine visionary meeting, rayne realized that he was missing his robe. the half-blonde searched ever crevice of his dorm but to no avail. rayne sighed, reaching the conclusion that you accidentally took it.

yesterday, he had to run a quick errand while you were napping. upon his return, rayne discovered that you had left. you scribbled a message on a notepad, explaining that you didn’t want to keep intruding. you were probably too tired to realize that you had his war robe in your possession.

rayne could waste any more time making a trip to your dorm. it was a bit of a distance from his. the best decision at the moment was to let you have it and attend the meeting without it.

that is how he ended up in this situation, late and stuck sitting next to ryoh.

“y/n has your robe, don’t they?” ryoh teases in a whisper. for some reason, ryoh had discovered rayne’s relationship with you. whenever the two visionaries crossed paths, his senior never fails to mention you.

the sword cane doesn’t respond. “that’s a yes, isn’t it?” ryoh continues with a shit-eating grin. he pokes the arm of the boy next to him

rayne inhales. gods, he was not going to hear the end of this.

whenever you and rayne are apart due to his job as divine visionary, you communicate through letters sent by owls

he talks about the places he’s at and shit talks the people he doesn’t like

you tell him about you classes and how things are back at the academy, especially things going on within the adler dorm

and you occasionally give him updates on finn because you know deep down rayne cares about him

an owl lands on the sill of the open window of rayne’s temporary room. the animal clamps down on an browned envelope placed in its beak. rayne approaches the bird, and it drops the letter into his hands before flying off.

the mattress of the bend sinks under rayne’s weight when he sits on it. he unfolds the piece of parchment in his hands unsealing the envelope. his eyes scan down the letter that reads:

dear rayne,

how’s your trip? i hope nothing’s gone bad. things back at easton have been the same as usual, but it’s not that fun without you here.

classes are boring, but that’s nothing new. i might rip my brain out. i’ve been baking to try and cope. by the way, when you get back, you have to try this cheese tart i made. i had your brother and a friend of his try them. they seemed to like it a lot. i don’t know the name of the kid yet, but he wants me to make cream puffs next time. he says they’re a lot better than cheese tarts so you’ll have to try those too.

speaking of finn, he’s doing extremely well. he’s making lots of friends which is really nice to see. he always seems nervous to talk to me though. am i intimidating or something. i don’t think i am. unless you’ve been saying some things about me then i think we’re gonna have a problem…

gods, i miss you so much. come back soon. i’ll be waiting for you always. take care of yourself and don’t stress too much. i love you.

- y/n

p.s. please get me a souvenir. thank you! i love you, again.

rayne stands up, finding a sheet of paper and a quill. he pulls out a chair by a table. a slight smile flashes on the visionary���s face as he writes back to you—his home.

[fuctacles]

Witch Hunt

for @steddie-spooktober "witch" & @stevieweek "i don't know about this one..." prompt which i've altered quite a bit but used it twice so it kind of evens out, right???

E | 2568 | transfem!Steve (goes by Eve), witch!Steve, demon!Eddie, medieval fantasy, some arson and murder boyfriend vibes, magical srs, possible continuation, im sorry for all the lore | Ao3 more spooktober: "would you please stop trying to scare them?"

Eddie hated his job. Not only the human realm was much colder than Hell, but also, the Deal didn't always work. The success rate has been increasing each time, but it still pissed him off when nothing happened after he's been freezing his balls off for hours. He was starting to think all his fur was just decorative. 

When he had arrived at Heimdall's, the guy threw him a skimpy tunic that barely covered his privates. 

"Is this the only one you have? You can see my whole dick and balls in it," Eddie had complained, but beggars can't be choosers and all that. 

He wraps the fabric tighter around himself when the next gust of air moves clouds away from the moon, making the pile of debris in the clearing visible. Time passes and Eddie waits impatiently, tapping his hooves against the ground, and idly picking stray grass blades from his tail. It seems like the pile moves a couple of times, but it's just the wind disturbing it. 

A distant clock tower strikes midnight, and finally, the ash pile moves and keeps on moving, until a hand emerges. Eddie straightens up, his tail twitching in interest. 

The ashes start breathing, the charred remains get knocked down and a coughing fit raises a dark cloud into the air. She'll be spitting soot for hours, but at least she's up now, another success for the statistics. 

He decides to take pity on the poor girl and steps away from the fence he's been perched on, making room for his wings. With two good swats, the dirt is gone, leaving a slightly dirty, very naked woman in the middle of a charred circle. 

He raises his eyebrows. 

"These fucking perverts burnt you naked?"

She finally notices his presence, her red-rimmed eyes blinking rapidly to clear her vision, and stands up on shaky legs, still low on energy after her resurrection, barely maintaining her balance. Suddenly, Eddie doesn't seem to matter anymore, as her hands fly to her chest. 

"What...?" she murmurs to herself.

Eddie tilts his head, watching the human with curiosity. Usually, the arrival of a demon gets a bigger fanfare, he's almost insulted, but he waits patiently. He already did for so long, and now he has something pretty to lay his eyes on for once. Witches usually came with ugly meat sacks, even after their resurrection. 

"Where the fuck is my dick?!"

Ah, yes, that would explain it. The naked thing, too.

"Do you want it back?" Eddie asks because he's a demon with manners. 

"No!" she protests immediately, eyes snapping up to him from observing her crotch. "No," she adds softer. "I like it like that." Her hand reaches down to inspect her new parts, so Eddie takes it upon himself to swat it away with his tail.

"Hey!" 

He tsks, his long tongue slipping out to flick in a warning. 

"Let's not put any more dirt in your holes, okay?" he berates her. Regretfully, he shrugs off the tunic he's been wearing and throws it at the girl. "For your modesty, m'lady." 

She glowers at him but slips it over her head anyway. What was small for the demon, doesn't do much more for a human, especially not one with the curves that she has. She wrinkles her nose. 

"Is there even a point? You can see my whole—"

Eddie slaps her hand preemptively. 

"Hey! I wasn't even touching it!" 

"Your hand was too close."

"No, it wasn't!" 

Eddie rolls his eyes. 

"Let's clean you up and then you can touch it all you want. You have a river in this ditch?" he asks, nose twitching in the air. He turns at the same time the witch points her hand. 

"To the left of the village." 

Eddie's eyes stray to the cluster of houses she seems determined not to look at.

"Do you have anyone left there?" he asks curiously.

"Not anymore," she scoffs, taking off towards the river. 

Eddie has to follow her, he can't risk losing a witch, but an urge flares inside of him that he has to let loose. He claps his hands together and starts rubbing, sparks flying until a fire forms in his palm. He bounces it from one hand to another and nuzzles it with his finger, always happy to work with the little guys. When he feels the witch is watching him, he refocuses and whispers to it:

"Go, little one. Do your worst."

The flame flies off his palm, aided by a push from Eddie's phantom wings. 

She doesn't ask, only eyes him curiously, but he pushes gently on her back to prompt her into walking along his side. 

"It's gonna take a while," he says without any other explanation. 

The walk isn't long, and soon she's handing over the tunic and dipping into the lazily flowing water, dark like ink but glittering with the reflection of stars above. The night sky is probably the only thing Eddie misses in the Underworld. 

He sits on the plush grass, observing as the witch dunks under the surface and rubs her skin until it turns pink. It still contrasts with the water like it's made of the finest porcelain. 

"I guess you're clean enough to explore now," he says as her movements slow down like she's already contemplating it. She must be, he can taste her curiosity from his spot on the river bank.

"You're gonna sit there and watch?" she glowers at him.

"Of course," he answers matter-of-factly. "I'm a demon."

She huffs, but this time it sounds more amused. Her hand travels down her body.

"What's your name, witch?" Eddie asks, resting his chin on his hand. 

"Stev—" she hesitates. 

"Eve?" he picks up curiously. That would be hilarious. 

She kind of nods, kind of shakes her head. 

"I was Steven, then I went by Stevonne, but..."

"That's okay, take your time," Eddie reassures her. "This is your Rebirth, you can pick any name you like."

She hums, and he can see her hand making slow, circling movements under the water. 

"I like Eve," she admits.

"Yeah?" Eddie perks up with a smile. "You can call me Eddie. It's nice to make your acquaintance, Eve."

She smiles and opens her mouth to say something, but her attention is pulled somewhere above Eddie's shoulder. The water starts glowing orange. 

"Looks like the little guy is having fun," he hums, not looking around. The glow of fire looks better on Eve's skin anyway. 

The river carries distant cries for help, a reminder that it's not just a big, pretty bonfire. 

"Don't worry, he'll get them all," he says.

"I'm not worried," she assures quickly. 

Eve's fixated on the fire consuming her village, her eyes full of awe and the reflection of flames. She's glowing in the now orange water and she looks gorgeous reflecting Eddie's carnage like that. She'll look breathtaking among hellfire. 

"Maybe we could spare some," he wonders out loud with a lazy smile. She looks back at him. "So we can hunt them down later. The way they hunt my new favorite witch."

She smiles, mean and thrilled. He'll have to fight fang and claw to keep her.

"Maybe we could." 

They look at each other for a long while, until his eyes dip. 

"You done?" Eddie looks pointedly at her stilled hand. She sighs with frustration. 

"It's way different from this angle," she complains. 

Eddie laughs out loud, the sound echoed by the collapsing church that used to tower over the townsfolk. 

"Need a hand?" he offers, rolling his eyes when she eyes his claws with distrust. He flicks out his tongue instead. "Need a tongue?" 

Eve's totally on board for that, clambering out of the water, her hazelnut hair dripping over her curves. The wet shine on her skin reflects the dancing flames and Eddie would be in love if he knew how to.

"Weren't you appalled that I was watching you just seconds ago?" he laughs at her, a little bit mean, but he already knows she can take it. 

"Turns out I like that," she shrugs without shame, making Eddie's smile grow. The sight of his sharp teeth doesn't deter her either. In an instant, he has a lap full of a human, or at least as much of one there was left in Eve. He has her tits right in his face and he wouldn't be a demon if he didn't give them a taste, licking the river water off her skin. She sighs, fingers tangling in his unruly mane of hair, seeking purchase in his horns. He groans when she grabs them, and wraps his arms around her, pressing into her skin so he can flip them around, and lay her down in the bed of grass. 

Her yelp turns into a delighted laugh and Eddie trembles with the sound. They don't make witches like that anymore. Free and open to the joys of life, ready to frolic and mingle with the things Unknown. Christianity made it so hard for demons and fae to get laid. 

He presses hot kisses down her torso, spends extra time sucking around her navel, then nibbling around her mound, hiking her thighs higher and higher, nosing at the crease there, inhaling her scent, until he gets to his destination. It takes two, three expert licks for Eve to lock her legs around him and scream into the night. 

Eddie gently laps up around her hole, her juices too precious to let fall on the grass below. Her breath hitches and she trembles but doesn't move away. 

"Do you want more?" he asks, black eyes searching for an answer. 

Her eyes are still full of fire.

"Yes."

So he gives her one more, then three, until he loses count and his tongue is numb and Eve's but a puddle of human-shaped limbs underneath him. When he laps at her entrance, drunk himself on her smell and taste, she spreads her legs invitingly, eyes blown and impossibly wide, sparkling with flames. 

They stare into each other's dark eyes as he slithers his tongue inside. He rubs against her walls, searching for her face for a reaction, but she's too out of it for anything more than an involuntary twitch of muscles. However, when he moves away, she seems disappointed. He crawls up her body to properly look at her face, but before he can say anything, she lurches forward.

Kissing is not something he's used to in such circumstances, but he indulges anyway, letting her tongue inspect the sharp points of his teeth, and maneuver his hand on her breast. He squeezes, laps, and sucks, letting himself get lost in this new dance. 

"You know," he says when she breaks away to restore oxygen. "I don't do that outside of sealing a deal," he admits.

Eve blinks at him owlishly. 

"You don't kiss just for fun? Aren't you a demon?"

Eddie barks out a laugh. 

"I guess kissing is too tame for our tastes." 

"What's your taste?" she asks, curiosity radiating off of her in hot waves. 

He hums, caressing her side.

"Insane witches, apparently."

"What do you do with them?" she presses on, her leg moving dangerously high up his body, the coarse hair of his thighs not enough to deter her.

"Well, personally..." Eddie likes to play with his food, a habit he couldn't shake since his childhood, so he rolls away from Eve to lie on his side instead. To placate her, he starts playing with the hair that grow low on her belly. "I collect the resurrected witches and show them around. You'll get a tour of Hell and any other realms you wish to see, and then I'll help you settle wherever you feel like."

With every word, the pout on her face only grows. 

"You're not keeping me?" she asks, playing up the whine in her voice, but he knows there are genuine feelings behind it. 

"Witches aren't meant to be tied down," he explains apologetically. "They're free spirits abusing the laws of reality." He reaches for her hand to press a kiss against her fingers. "It's a power best wielded in solitude."

She pries her hand away and sits up.

"Why would I want the power if I can't share it? Don't witches have like... familiars? Or something?"

Eddie frowns.

"A witch of your power doesn't need one. They're meant to amplify and aid spells, and you're pretty much on the same level as a common demon."

"Are you a common demon?"

"Yes," he nods. 

"So we can't make a deal?" she presses on. 

His frown deepens. 

"Why would you want a deal with someone equal in power? Deals are made between a master and a servant."

"But is it not possible? Can't I have an equal by my side? A partner in crime?"

Maybe he should backtrack on her being his favorite. She's asking too many questions, ones he's not used to from a freshly reborn witch. He sighs. 

"Technically you can, but it's an exclusive deal. You're tied for eternity, you belong to each other. It's not a common practice," he says, playing off what he's been told and overheard. "Master-servant contracts have an expiration date and are easier to break. I'm not sure a deal like that could even be broken."

Eve wraps her hands around her knees, processing the information. 

"So I could tie a demon, or an equally powerful being, to myself for all eternity?" 

Somehow, Eddie doesn't like the idea of Eve making a deal like that with a random demon. He nods, though.

"Yes."

"Let's say I'd want to do that with you, right now. How would that look?" she asks curiously. 

He thinks about it, imagines it, and it pains him deep into his core. 

"A simple deal is sealed with a kiss or a blood pact. A deal between equals requires an intercourse."

"Huh."

The idea doesn't seem appalling to her, which doesn't surprise him at this point. He can feel her eyes sliding down his body.

"You're not going to find my dick like that," he says with amusement. 

She huffs but doesn't budge, searching his gaze instead. 

"Wouldn't you want to make me yours? And you mine?"

Eddie considers it. 

"I never thought about it before," he admits. "Is that something you'd want?"

She lays back on the grass with a sigh. 

"I'm just tired of being alone. Of nobody staying. You're the nicest person I've met in years, and you're not even human." He laughs at that, and she turns towards him with a smile. "You burnt a village for me." She frowns. "Unless you do that for all the witches."

Eddie quickly shakes his head. Too quickly.

"Only the most mistreated ones," he admits. 

"Is it a pity thing, then?"

"No," he protests again. "I wanted to do something nice for you."

Eve smiles. 

"Thank you."

He smiles back, and when he leans down, she meets him for a lazy kiss. 

"Would you make me yours?" she asks when they part and the offer sounds alarmingly tempting. 

"You should meet other demons before making a commitment like that," he says, and she rolls her eyes. Then, his ears twitch as he finds the perfect distraction for them both. 

"You ready to hunt?" he smiles down at her, wide and dangerous. "Someone escaped the fire."

[gh0stsp1d3r]

Hiii!!! I recently discovered your work and I love the way you write! I was wondering if I could request an angst to comfort/fluff with Hobie Brown with a “dumb” reader? Like he’s explaining the most simplest thing and she’s still not getting it and he kinda gets frustrated.

I personally get called “slow” or “not the brightest” and I have to laugh it off but it hurts.So i would like this a lot. But If not you can ignore this!! Hope you have a great rest of your day!🩷

as someone who’s been made fun of their whole life for being “slow” and dumb I get it sm, you’re not dumb you just don’t catch on as quickly, and that’s okay because everyone learns at different paces (:

I feel like Mac Demarco fits comfort/fluff so..

Even if..

“I still don’t get it..” you mumbled, looking at the whole thing he drew out for you.

Hobie sighed. He was trying to explain how to fix your watch, since it broke in battle and Miguel was already pissed enough as is.

“Just give me it.” He took the parts, you could feel his frustration. He put it back together quickly and easily, handing it to you.

“Thank you.” You whispered, putting it on and the looking at the ground.

“Mhm.”

“Sorry… I jus’ don’t get it..”

“It’s whatever, alright? You’re not the brightest, but that’s alright.” He didn’t think about what he said, and he didn’t see it as offensive to you.

You looked up when he said that, taking in his words.

You didn’t say anything, you stood up and went to the bathroom. He just waited and messed with his watch until he heard a noise come from the bathroom.

He stood up fast, knocking on the door.

“You alright in there?” He asked, he heard you try to cover your cries and sniffles.

“I’m fine.” You said. He shook his head. “I’m comin’ in.”

He opened the door to you on the floor, he went on the side of you, holding you and patting your back.

“Hey, hey, hey, what’s wrong?” He asked, genuinely not knowing what happened.

“I jus’… earlier.. when you said ‘you’re not the brightest’ it reminded me of some things that people used to say..”

“Oh…” he felt horrible now.

“Im sorry. I didn’t realize that I was bein’ rude, that was stupid of me.” He rubbed your back and out his arm around your shoulder, holding you tight.

“It’s not you-“

“It is though. You’re brilliant in other ways. Like you’re probably one of the best fighters I’ve seen. And you’re a amazing person. I love you, okay?”

“Even if I’m a little slow?” You said with a small laugh.

“You’re not. Don’t say that. Not everyone learns at the same time. We should blame society for making others think that they’re inferior because they don’t learn the same pace as they do-“

You kissed him to make him shut up. He laughed and kissed you again when you pulled away.

[thedeathwitchescats]

Okay, review time!! If you are one of the oddballs who thinks you cant be critical of something you love I suggest you stop reading now before I ruffle your feathers. Iron flame, second in the empyrean series. I am gonna start with what I was not a fan of and then go into the shit I adored.

1) what in the actual fuck was the pacing of this book?? I can tell you what, it was non existent. There was none. Where I thought there was a lot of filler in the last book there was none in this one. We got snap shots of conversations and then *boom* more plot flew at you. The timeline of this book greatly suffered for it i think bc we end only a couple weeks, if that, after threshing, which happens sometimes in October. This book was actually so wild with times.

2) while it was a spectacular cliff hanger, xaden becoming venin pisses me off. Especially if Rebecca yarros isnt going to have him tell violet. Like if that small tid bit of a conversation we got wasnt him telling vi that he was venin then the entire romantic conflict of this book was rendered pointless and their going to be having the same fucking fight for the rest of the series and at rhat point I give up.

3) I understand that the revolution is trying to take down basgaith and make the world better or whatever the fuck but can someone actually formulate a real plan for me?? Because I feel like their mission is just, giving violet and xaden something to be pissed at each other about.

4) the entirety of cats character. I get that she was set up as a spin on the typical jealous ex. Like having her be bitter about xaden picking violet over her but OH WAIT it wasnt actually about the man it was about the crown, oohh not like other girls. Im a writer too I see the point. I dont care. I think it was trashy. If you wanted her to be a bitter spiteful ex then have her be a bitter spiteful ex, the whole crown thing was shallow.

OKAY haters your time is up now onto the shit that made my heart hurt with joy and sadness

1) xadens arc in this book. I really liked that he went from "transparency is never gonna happen" to losing his fucking mind over violet and giving her everything. I love feral men and he qualifies. I think his arc was really well done and i liked it.

2) I appericiate that violet stuck to her guns for this book. She wouldnt let xaden off without a fight and I loved that. She made him bow and scrape and I was eating it up. It was spectacular.

3) the throne room scene. Violet on the throne. "Im making a temporary point not a lasting vow of maschocism" xaden being feral.

4) that gets its own point actually, just xaden being completely feral this entire book healed a part of my soul.

5) andarna's little speech at the end where she was like "I waited for you violet" made me ugly cry. That was just so hopelessly good I loved it. Andarna in general heals my heart but that part was just *chefs kiss*

6) tarin being completely and utterly ready to eat people this entire book. Just, at every turn "I want lunch their pissing me off " was spectacular

7) every scene their squad was in. Rihannon, violet, sawyer and ridoc are my roman empire. Their bond is so amazing. The fact that they launched a rescue mission for violet. Rihannon being ready to kill xaden at every turn. Ridoc being so platonically and adorably in love with violet. Just- augh happy cries happy cries. I love it all. Their so special tbh.

8) I love xaden actually, just, the whole book every scene hes in lives in my brain.

9) I liked that we saw a small bit of violet being feral this book too. I hope that we get more of that in future books. I want more of violet losing her fucking mind. Hot, badass women covered in blood

10) Liam. Fucking Liam. When violet was kidnapped and Liam was there. Now, do I logically understand that he was a hallucination, yes, do i care?? No. He was a gift from Maleck I will be hearing no critiques on that. It was so fucking sweet and amazing. I love violet and Liam and Liam being dead so horribly breaks my heart. I loved Liam. Liams death lives rent free in my skull.

[its-freaking-jordan]

If no one will say it, I WILL. Sekido got an ass like… it’s not big but it’s not small….

Am I going to write about it.. YES.

Sekido with a Touchy S/O

Sekido doesn’t understand why you’re very touchy with him, and it pisses him off because you always say “You should know.”

It kinda pisses him off, every once in a while when he’s off minding his own business then you come and get a grip of his butt in your hand.

He stops whatever it was he is doing, taking a moment to process wtf just happened.

As soon as heard you giggling to yourself and hugging him from behind, he was happy it wasn’t anyone else, or else he would’ve killed them in an instant.

Once you hugged him, he looked at you from the corner of his eye then plucked you in your face, which you “cried” about and he just scolds you for touching him.

Even when you plead that you won’t do it again he believes you, but instantly regrets it once you get handsy with him again, which ends with him plucking you again but hard this time.

He minds it a lot he doesn’t, just let him know before you do it at least.

It was night and you decided to accompany Sekido and his brothers on a hunt, because you all were hungry. You was walking by your boyfriend, as he was telling you about their mission. You purposely started to walk slow, now walking behind him responding with “Uh Huh” “Okay” and “Yea” leaving him and Aizetsu talking. While you we’re checking your boyfriend out, eyes on his ass, you feel a hand on your shoulder which it belong to Karaku. “Checking your boyfriend out I see? That’s something new Y/N~” “Can’t really help myself when he looks pretty.” You we’re tracing his curves with your eyes, drawing them out. He was really pretty, even when he’s actually angry. You were snapped out of you thoughts when your boyfriend got your attention. “Jeez, what’s with you now. Did you not hear a single word I said?” You shook your head no which caused him to sigh furiously, Karaku and Urogi to burst out laughing. “You know what…Just come, you we’re going to come with me anyway.”

You were both on a tree, looking at the village you both were going to destroy. You also heard a hashira was going to be there too, so it would be fun. While Sekido was telling you the plan, you went behind him and put your hands on his waist which caught him off guard for once. “What the hell Y/N? What the fuck are you doin-“ he couldn’t finish what he wanted to say, you grabbed his ass giving it a squeeze. For once he was at a lost for words, just what we’re you thinking..Doing this on a mission? Sekido was blushing, not a lot to the point where you can’t see it. His body felt hot and fuzzy, just what were you doing to him..“Oh I can’t wait until we’re done with this mission. Once we head back, I want to explore you even more…”

Im sorry this had to be done..Im already starting the part 2 also

[jeansplaytoy]

‘ 𝐖𝐇𝐈𝐓𝐄 𝐁𝐎𝐘 .

part four !

part three here. > if u didn’t read it. no proof read , sorry for the wait 😣 this parts kinda boring butttt i gotchu later.

you were confused. really confused.

“what’re you doing at my window?” you whispered after opening it. “can you let me in? this ladder ain’t that sturdy.” armin muttered, glancing down.

you glanced back at your door and sighed, shaking your head and stepping back to let armin in. you went over to your door and locked it. “you should be happy we’re friends, because if we weren’t-“

“i know. i know.” armin mumbled, stumbling through the window and closing it behind him. he placed his backpack to the side and sat on the edge of your bed. “fuck.” he whispered to himself, resting his face in his hands.

“you okay? what happened?” you frowned a little and stood in front of him.

“what doesn’t happen at that dumbass house?” armin mumbled, laying back on your bed. you pursed your lips together. “was it your dad?” he looked at you. “hell yeah. it’s nobody else but him.”

you didn’t know much about armin, or learn much about him that night, other than the fact that his dad was a complete asshole and his mom was basically helpless when it came to him.

“you know.. theres not a lot i can say about the situation. but i think you need to talk to somebody about that. because it goes left.”

“tryna get me killed?”

“i’m tryna help.”

armin scoffed. “yeah, ‘cus telling somebody that my dad got physically with me is gonna help.”

“i didn’t know that.”

he stayed quiet after your statement. you couldn’t do anything but sit beside him and stare at the wall. “ion wanna involve you in nothing but…. you think i can stay here?"

you frowned. "what? are you… dumb?"

"no. or i would've ran away by now. but im asking someone thats actually willing to help."

"how do you know if im willing to help?"

"you cant say no."

you smacked your lips. "armin, you really piss me off sometimes. but i’ll help, just because i don’t want you to get in trouble or sum shit.” you stared at him with bored eyes. “but we gotta keep this a secret. if you’re gonna stay here, you have to stay in my room, unless you wanna go home.”

“believe me, i don’t.” he yawned.

as you looked at armin, you couldn’t help but notice the small bruise forming on his collarbone. “is he always like that?”

you could tell the question surprised armin, like he didn’t know you were gonna even bother to ask more about what him and his dad had going. but he answered anyway.

“he never got physical as in punching and shit like he did today. but ion really care.”

“well you should care because that’s not something a dad does.”

“well it’s something my dad did so what.” armin sat up and looked at you. “just because your dad doesn’t do that to you means my dads not gonna do it to me?”

“i never said that.” you stared blankly at armin.

he started back before resting his eyes. “right.” he muttered before standing up and reaching in his backpack. “there’s a shower in this room? or i gotta risk going out?” he looked at you. “there’s a shower in here, but make it quick. it’s already late, and my moms knows i don’t shower late.” you said.

armin nodded in response, taking his clothes in the bathroom. he stopped at the door. “is there men’s soap in here?”

you looked at him for a second.

-

“you fuckin serious?”

you couldn’t even get your words out from how long you were laughing at how armin smelled.

“you smell like a babyyy.” you said, wiping the tears that formed from laughing so hard. he basically used your soap instead of whatever soap you told him to use.

so there he was, standing there with shorts on, no shirt, pursing his lips together at how awkward it was.

“it’s literally not even a problem armin. you used my soap, i didn’t tell you to do that.” you shrugged as you got up to get your clothes ready for a shower. “you’re annoying.” he raised his eyebrows and sat down on your bed.

“well you’re gonna be here for a while, so you might as well get used to it.” you poked his head.

as time passed of you showering, armin looked around your room.

“peculiar ass room.” he mumbled, standing up to look at your dresser for things to cure his boredom.

you had random things on your vanity, like a random journal that he didn’t really care for looking in. or he did, he just didn’t wanna invade your privacy. and then random little glass figures like angels and stuff.

as his eyes glanced over almost everything, he picked up a bottle of perfume. he opened it and smelled it, it smelled good. like you, most of the time you were together. but as he shook it he saw it was almost gone. he bummed and put it back down.

then there was a picture. looked like you as a chubby little toddler. and someone else. armins eyes softened. he knew what he was thinking. he just didn’t wanna ask. yet.

that was until you walked out of the steamy bathroom, sighing loudly. “i’m done. after boiling for forty minutes.” you mumbled, waving yourself to cool off. he didn’t look up until you went over to him. “whatcha lookin at?”

“who’s this?” he pointed.

you tilted your head before raising your eyebrows. “that’s my dad.” you said, staring at the picture. “what happened?”

you thought about it. what did happen? “my mom ran him off. but she tells me he left because he didn’t want anything to do with a kid anymore.” you muttered while turning around to lay across your bed.

“fucked up.” armin said, picking up the frame. he looked at it. it looked like there were more pictures underneath. as he took the main picture out, smaller ones started to fall out. like little polaroids and cut outs.

“ain’t then when we was little or sum?” he held up another picture for you to see. “why’re you looking at those?”

“cause you’re life’s more interesting than mine.”

“so.”

“so tell me about it.”

part 5 soon.

[malliluvs]

bloodied lips

rhea ripley x f!reader

After losing her fight, she seeks her girlfriend out to blow off some steam.

word count: 1.8k

(incomplete bc idk if its good)

18+!!

warnings : rhea taking her anger out on you, mean-ish rhea, cursing, smoking, mommy rhea, pure smut, oral r!recieving and r!giving, fingering r!recieving, teasing, edging, slight sadism/ masochism, thigh riding, bad girl good girl type, degredation/ praise kink, rough fucking, strap usage, cowgirl, mirror stuff, somewhat bratty reader, idk what else just really slutty

note: this is about the summer slam 2021, rhea ripley vs. nikki a.s.h vs. charlotte flair, also this is my first time writing smut that wasn't a jokey joke so erm!!! and theres barely any plot, mostly just smut bc.

if you asked me a year ago, i never would have imagined myself front row at the summer slam, but yet i was here.

i watched rhea walk into the ring, she practically demanded respect with her presence. and god knows i would give it to her. i couldn't believe i was watching my girlfriend walk into a ring.

of course, i've seen it plenty of times, but i could never get enough of it. and the best part was that she was always the most riled up after winning a good match.

but, what i didn't expect was the complete opposite. not only did she not win, she failed miserably. i winced at every blow she suffered, nikki and charlotte were not holding back.

everytime rhea looked at me in the crowd i blew her a kiss, that would usually pick her spirits up. but she was far too angry to care about me, or anyone for that matter, all she cared about was winning this fight.

after the fight, i waited back in her dressing room for rhea. i was sitting at her vanity, watching the next fight on the tv in the corner of the room. she walked in fuming.

curses spilled out of her mouth.

"that fucking bitch , using those cheesy ass moves , fucking bitch!" she yelled, her australian accent booming through the room. she kicked one of the chairs, before glaring at herself in the mirror.

i jumped as she kicked the chair, i furrowed my eyebrows. "rhea?" i said, my voice calm as i tried to hopefully calm her down.

she looked at me, but it wasn't the normal, loving look she gave me before the match, it was a death glare.

i gulped, before taking a deep breath. "lets calm down, okay? i mean... it cant be that bad." i smiled sheepishly. "there's always next ti-"

"no, there isn't a fucking next time y/n!" she yelled. " i spent fucking months training for this fight and i couldn't do shit, so don't tell me about next time, i don't need a fucking pep talk." rhea clenched her fists, running her hands over her head as she paced around the room.

i stayed quiet, looking down.

"get over here." she told me, i just looked up at her.

"i said, get the fuck over here, y/n. im not in a good mood." she said, wiping the blood off her lips as she stared at me, her voice eerily calm.

i got up from the vanity that i sat in, i looked up at rhea, she could be terrifying when she was pissed. i took small steps towards her, before she grabbed me by the back of my neck.

my eyes widened as she pulled me into a kiss. my face flushed a deep crimson as she bit my lip harshly. i was used to rhea being a bit rough, but i couldn't help but be surprised when i felt a sharp, burning pain on my lip, and blood trickled from my lip onto her own.

she pulled back, rubbing her thumb over my bottom lip, smudging the blood on my lips. she licked the blood of her lips, her eyes filled with anger and lust. almost as a warning of what was to come if i didn't obey her.

"take your clothes off." rhea demanded. my eyes widened. we had never done anything like this in such a public place, nevermind outside our bedroom. even if it was her dressing room, we both knew that her coach would be in here any minute now to reprimand her.

"rhea you can't be seri-"

"off. now."

i looked down, it was clear i wasn't gonna get a word in. "but-"

she grabbed me roughly. "y/n, im not in the fucking mood right now for your bratty shit. just do as i say, now take. it. off." i knew i should be scared of her, but the wetness in my panties were telling me otherwise.

i knew i shouldn't tease her, but i couldn't help myself. i turned my head to the side and crossed my arms.

"no."

rhea's eyes turned a dark shade of red, she growled. "what the hell do you mean, 'no'?!" she yelled. my eyes widened at her tone, gosh she was such a turn on when she was angry.

"i said no! i don't wanna, i wanna finish watching the fight." i huffed, before sitting down on a nearby couch, ignoring rhea entirely. i could practically feel her staring at the back of my head, her eyes like lazers.

i heard her breathing increase, i was surprised steam wasn't coming out of her ears. i knew she wasn't gonna let this behavior slide, and that only excited me more.

i heard rhea walk out, slamming the door behind her. she was pissed.

by the time we got back into her car to leave, rhea couldn't keep her eyes off of me, she was practically begging for my attention, and i didn't listen to her.

"y/n. look at me." she demanded, she was still pissed about her fight, and even more pissed that i wasn't paying her any mind.

"you know what? okay." that was all rhea said. my eyes widened and i looked at her, but rhea was already pulling out of the parking space.

did i fuck up? no.

i looked at the smirk that adorned her face, she had something planned, and i was completely unprepared.

the second we got back to her apartment, she pushed me up against the wall and gripped my hair, pulling my head to look at her. she gripped me tight, i winced in pain, her large hand was a blessing and a cruse. i felt her hand unbuckle my belt and unzipping my jeans. she roughly stuck her hands into my jeans, her large, calloused fingers tracing me through my panties.

i let out a shaky breath. "rhea..." i whined, i couldn't ignore her when her hands were on me, it was impossible.

"shut the fuck up." rhea glared at me. "you wanted to be a fucking brat? i'll treat you like a brat." she scoffed, a smirk played at her lips. if i weren't so turned on i probably would have punched her.

she wrapped her large hands around my waist, and picked me up like i weighed nothing. she threw me over the shoulder and took me to our bedroom.

she pushed me into the room, standing me in front of the large closet mirror.

"look at me." her voice caught me off guard and my eyes caught hers in the mirror, i felt a shiver run down my back as she glared at me.

she smirked, and started unbuckling my jeans, pulling them down roughly. they pooled at my feet as she forced a hand in my underwear, her calloused fingers running over my slit.

"god, fucking slut..." she cooed. i closed my eyes, and she bit my ear roughly. "you've been acting like such a bitch all day, you wanted this didn't you?"

i looked at her in the mirror, pleading for her to touch me. every touch of hers felt like heaven, and i needed more.

she scoffed. "what do you want?" she raised her chin up, tilting her head. god, i loved when she did that.

my words caught in my throat, i felt her thumb slowly graze my skin, and I felt my knees become weak.

"use your words." her voice was husky and demanding.

"i... i..." my words didn't seem to want to come out of my mouth.

rhea began to get frustrated, she pulled her hand out of my underwear, and gripped my waist, pulling it towards her. she roughly pushed me against the mirror, her hands the only things holding me up as my cheek smushed against the glass.

my heavy breath fogged up the mirror, as I looked back towards rhea, whos grinded her hips against me. "tell me what you want." she repeated, her hand inching up my shirt before roughly gripping one of my breasts.

i let out a surprised yelp. "rhea... i... i want you... please..." i begged, my voice was hoarse and whiny, i wasn't proud of it but at this point i couldn't care less.

"im pissed, y/n." she growled. "i wanted you to help me, and instead you gave me back talk then completely ignored me. do you really expect me to touch you?" she said, her voice was mocking, i could practically hear her smirk.

i should be mad, but i couldn't help the wet spot that formed on my underwear.

rhea let out a groan of frustration, sitting on the bed. she was manspreading as she glared at me, leaning back on her arms.

"so do it yourself."

my breath hitched at her words. "rhea... please i can't-"

"do it. you really wanna keep pissing me off?" she threatened.

i let out a small sigh, my eyes glazed over. she pulled me down on her leg, looking up at me.

i bit my lip, looking at her. her words repeated in my head

do you really wanna keep pissing me off?

my cooter wooter ached at her words. i moved my hips, moving them back and forth on her thigh.

i bit my lip and let out a soft moan.

she sat there watching me, clearly amused by the predicament she put me in.

I held onto her shoulders, rutting my hips on her thigh, the feeling of her denim jeans drove me crazy. god, and that look in her eye. it made me feel so powerless.

i felt that familiar knot in my stomach, i hid my face in the nook of her neck. i rocked my hips, they began to ache as i tried to chase my high.

"rhea... please... im so close... im gonna-" i was suddenly knocked off balance by rhea bouncing her leg, my orgasm fading away from me.

"i don't think you deserve it." rhea said, glaring at me.

i looked up at her, my lip trembling. "rhea please... i'll do anything!" i cried into her chest.

rhea sighed, pulling out a pack of cigarettes from her back pocket and lighting it, she took a drag and blew it in my face, her black lipstick staining the paper casing.

"go get it." she said, before taking another drag, the tip of the cigarette lighting a bright red as she did.

i felt relief at those words, was she gonna finally give me what i wanted?

i got up from her lap, my legs shaky from my previous denial, my core still aching from the loss. i opened the closet, and picked up a box. i opened it, pulling out a large, black, 7inch strap-on.

i practically drooled at the thought of rhea ruining me with it.

i walked back over to her, she snatched it out of my hand, before pulling down her jeans, she put it on and looked at me.

she grabbed me by my hair, pushing me down between her legs. she pushed it against my lips, practically growling at me.

"suck it."

-

i cant finish this just take this i dont know if it's good or not so erm!

[yunoclips]

“You ready?” 

“Mhm” He replies with a shaky hum.

Here you two were on the bed. Taeyong was on his hands and knees waiting for you to continue. You had just finished prepping him. Two fingers , extra lube. Careful enough to stretch him out while avoiding his prostate. You wanted to save that for later. 

It was Taeyong’s first time being the one receiving any kind of penetration. You wanted to make it nice and special. Something he’d never be able to forget. 

You crawl up the bed to meet his face. He was red , you could see his heart beating out of his chest. Placing a chaste kiss on his rosy cheek you whispered in his ear before moving back down the bed.

“Just relax , I’ll make you feel really good. I promise” 

With that his breath hitched. 

You grabbed the small vibrating toy and applied generous amounts of lube making sure to cover every part of it. 

You turned it on to the lowest setting. That would be enough to make him melt. Before you put anything in, you place two soft kisses to each of his supple ass cheeks and then trail down to place a sloppy wet kiss to his perineum. 

His arms started to shake and he let out an long whine that was cut short when you inserted the buzzing toy into his willing hole. 

You watched as his entire world shifted.  

You heard a gasp that was cut short by an overwhelming silence. His arms grew weak and he fell face first into the pillows. Then it was his beautiful legs shaking before they finally decide to give out on him.

You pressed the toy deeper. Then you hear a long mewl. You watch as he tries to lift his hands but he can only get them so far before they start to shake and he is left fisting the sheets trying to ground himself. 

“I- fuck I think im gonna…. Mmm fuck” He tries to get words out but the pleasure is so incredibly overwhelming that he can barley finish a sentence. Nd to think this is only the lowest setting

You caress his back. Running your hands up and down the smooth skin. 

“Words yongie, I need words. How am I supposed to know what’s going on if you can’t speak?” You say in a slightly mocking tone.

“I-i mmmm shit… I think I’m gonna piss myself fuck” He says in a jumbled voice. His words are barley audible. 

“That’s okay baby , let it all go.” You say before turning the toy up to the highest setting. All the previous mewls and whines have been silenced. "Did he pass out?" You wonder to yourself. You decide to check on him. You crawl up the bed to meet his face and the sight stuns you.

There Taeyong was basking in orgasmic glory. His mouth was agape , silently gasping as drool had pooled out of his mouth and left a large stain on the pillow. His eyes were taken over by whiteness and his eyelids twitched. His fingers were spasming as he attempted to grip the sheets but failed. He was absolutely fucked out. 

The sight alone had your clit throbbing. He was on the verge of passing out. That was enough experimenting for today. Crawling back down on the bed you paused the vibrations. You rubbed his right ass cheek and placed another soft kiss on it before carefully pulling the toy out which caused his entire body to flinch. 

After placing the toy at the end of the bed, you carefully turned Taeyong on his back. His abdomen was glistening. “Fuck he must’ve squirted on himself” you say to yourself. Your eyes trail up to his face. His mouth was slightly agape and his breathing was slow and deep. His eyes were glossy and his pupils were completely dilated. 

“How ya feeling baby boy? Looks like you came pretty hard”

He didn’t answer , his eyes just trailed to your face. It was as if he went non verbal. The orgasm taking so much out of him that he couldn’t speak anymore. You lean down to his left ear. Lips placing a delicate kiss to the shell of it.

“Can’t speak? That’s okay baby. I’m gonna take real good care of you, gonna fix you up” You whisper into his ear while your right arm extends over his chest. The hand of your right arm is caressing his other ear rubbing back and forth.

He still can’t speak. You place a wet kiss on his cheek before attempting to get off the bed and get a rag to clean up his mess. Before you could fully walk away you feel a hand grab at your own preventing you from getting anywhere. You quickly whip your head back and there he is. Gripping your hand like it’s his life source. He stares into your eyes with a desperate look before finally speaking up. 

“D-don’t , please just stay.. don’t wan you to go.”

[bobby-r2d2-floyd]

The Nanny (Hangman x Reader)

authors note: so, hangman won by a long shot in the poll, but for the few that voted for the rest, they're still coming! i have to deal with the bs with my basement and i am a college student, so i have to deal with my coursework as well.

inspired by @roosterforme

this will be a mutli part series, im not sure how many parts though

pairing: jake "hangman" seresin x benjamin niece!reader; established mav x penny

warnings: some swear words and an inaccurate depiction of how social workers handle dropping a baby off to its living, absent father. also cyclone is a dad bc jon hamm if a dilf.

not proof or beta read, we die like men.

summary: Hangman wakes up one day to a social worker and an infant on his doorstep. the infant? his 3 month old daughter.

word count: 1.9k

-----------

It was the one day that the Dagger squad had a later morning (11am, per Maverick’s request), so when the pounding on Jake’s door woke him up at 8:45, he was a little pissed.

He stumbled out of bed and the arms of some red head whose name he definitely doesn’t remember, throwing on a shirt along the way to his front door where the pounding is originating from and reverberating through his skull. “I heard you the first fucking time,” he curses out, throwing the door open and preparing to unleash verbal hell on the person standing at his doorstep.

All the words die out though when he sees an older woman standing there with a sleeping baby in a car seat at her feet. “Jacob Seresin?” she asks and his eyes bounce between the infant and the woman.

“Yes?” he asks, voice cracking a bit as he looks back to the woman.

“Do you mind if I come in?” he nods and moves aside as she picks up the car seat and steps inside. “My name is Caroline Husband, I’m a social worker for the state of California.” she tells him as she sets the seat down on his coffee table, “and this is Avery. Your daughter.” 

Jake feels his heart stop as he looks down at the little girl, “what, what do you mean?” he sinks down to the floor on his knees, heart racing and Caroline gives him a small smile.

“Her mother-” she looks down at the paperwork she was holding, “Samantha Barnes, passed away from complications shortly after birth, you were listed as father on the birth certificate.” 

Samantha Barnes… Jake remembered her with a small smile. They were briefly exclusive before she had disappeared one night, leaving behind the memories and a note saying she needed to go back home to help with her ailing father, her last living relative that she still spoke to.

“H-how uh, how old is she?” he asks, taking her small, but definitely bigger than a newborn, hand in between his finger and thumb.

“She spent some time with a foster while the state was waiting for you to return stateside. She just turned 3 months old.” Caroline forms him, which makes sense as he was just in the middle of the ocean for the last five months. “I have some supplies in my car that her foster mom put together for you, should you choose to keep her.” 

“Choose to?” he asks, as if there was any other option for him. The second he found out Avery was his, there was never any other option.

“You can alway sign your parental rights away, there’s plenty of families looking to adopt babies.” she says and he shakes his head.

“No, she stays with me,” Jake says as he stands and Caroline smiles up at him.

“Well then, there’s all the information that you need. Her old foster mom made a list of information for you, her pediatrician, what formula she was feeding, how to prepare bottles...” she goes on to tell him more necessary information about Avery but tunes her out as he watches the little girl start to wake up and look around, well, as much as a 3 month old can, he supposed. “Here’s my card, it has my personal cell phone number on the back should you not be able to reach me at my office in the event of an emergency.” 

He takes it with a smile and a thank you before walking Caroline to the door to help her bring the items in from her car and as quickly as she was here, she was gone. Leaving Jake to sit on his couch as he stares into the eyes of his daughter. 

He kicks out his guest after 15 minutes of sitting there before he’s googling how to put a car seat base securely into the back seat of a F-150. After fighting for what felt like an hour (only 10 minutes) he has his daughter secured in his car before driving way under the speed limit to The Hard Deck, only 45 minutes late to meeting up with the rest of the Daggers but as soon as they see him walk into the bar with a car seat, all the teasing for being late blows out of there mind. 

“Do we need to call the police?” Bradley teases and Jake lets out a nervous laugh.

“No.. no police needed.” Jake says as he sets his daughter’s car seat and diaper bag in the middle of the pool table the team was surrounding.

“Well, then who is this?” 

Jake takes a deep breath before answering, “this is my daughter, Avery Seresin.”

Immediately the team has plenty of questions for the team’s resident playboy. He explains the situation as best he can with the information he got from Caroline.

“I never even knew Sam was pregnant. She never said anything and then she was gone.” Jake says softly as he looks down as his daughter in his arms, sleepily drinking from the bottle he made and Penny gives him a smile.

“You seem like a natural already.” she says, snapping a photo of the daddy-daughter moment and he smiles.

“Yeah, I was still around when my sisters started having their own kids, all girls too, ironically.” he responds with a small laugh and the movement of his chest startled Avery awake and she starts drinking more steadily again.

The squad takes the rest of the day before the bar opens with turns holding the newest member of the team. Aside from Jake, Bob and Natasha were the only other two who seemed comfortable enough to hold her without needing any instruction on support for her head. 

“Does Cyclone know you have a kid yet?” Mav asks as he takes his turn holding Avery, seasoned from when Bradley was a baby and he used to watch him while Carole and Goose needed alone time. 

“Fuck, no not yet.” Jake groans as he rubs his hands over his face. “I need to go see him.”

“Go see him now, between Penny being a mom and me dealing with Bradley as a baby there’s plenty of experience here to watch Avery for a bit while you try to get some time to adjust to dad-life.” Mav says and Jake looks over at him.

“You’re serious?” 

“Yeah, besides, Avery is already better at 3 months than Rooster ever was.” Mav teases and Bradley makes a couple of offended noises before being slapped in the chest by Natasha. 

Jake nods, “okay well here’s her-”

“Hangman, get out of here. I did all this with Amelia.” Penny says as she pushes him towards the door and Jake pulls her into a hug.

“Thank you so much, Pen.” he says, meaning it too since Penny is the closest thing to a mom that he has since he hasn’t talked to his real mom in years. 

The drive into base wasn’t a long one, but felt like it was with how often he was checking his backseat and not seeing his daughter before remembering she was safe with Penny and Maverick at the bar. 

Walking into Admiral Simpson’s office, Jake broke out into a nervous sweat. “Um, excuse me, sir.” he says as he knocks on the open door.

Both Admiral Simpson and Admiral Bates looked up at him from where they were sitting at the desk discussing some news that they received from higher ups. 

“Can I help you, Lieutenant?” Cyclone asks and Jake nods, taking that as an ‘okay’ to walk into the office.

“Yes actually, I uh.. I was wondering if I would be able to get leave, sir. I had a surprise visit from a social worker this morning and-and my infant daughter.” he says as he straightens out his back and rolls his shoulders back.

“You have a child?” Cyclone asks, closing the folder that he had open to focus more on Jake. “Since when?” 

“Well, as of 9am this morning, sir. Her mother passed away after she was born and no other living relatives so… She’s currently with me. Well, not with me Captain Mitchell and Penny Benjamin are currently watching her.. sir.” 

Warlock and Cyclone share a look and Jake stands there nervously, “I know that this is short notices but all I’m asking for is a week to figure things out, find a sitter, get some kind of a routine started for-”

“Okay.” Cyclone says and Jake looks at him instead of the spot that he had been looking at on the wall. “You only want just one week?”

“I can have more, sir?” Cyclone nods, having recently become a father himself and knows how important bonding is for parents. 

“Unless something urgent comes, how does three weeks sound?” he asks as he pulls something up on his computer and begins to type.

“I would greatly appreciate that.” Jake says with a small smile and Cyclone nods, ending the conversation and Jake starts to walk out of the office.

“Seresin?” Warlock calls out and Jake turns around, “congratulations.”

“Thank you, sirs.” 

Jake drives back to the bar already feeling lighter than he had in the last 6 hours, and upon walking back into the watering hole, he sees a red faced Avery and a panicked Rooster.

“Bradshaw what did you do to my daughter?” 

“What did I do? She threw up on me!” he says, holding the infant safely, and at an arm's length away. 

The rest of the team is laughing behind him and Jake just takes Avery and lays her against him so her head is on his shoulder, “well I’m sure you deserved it.” 

Bradley glares at him before wandering away to the bathroom to clean up. Jake smiles and rubs his daughters back as she babbles in his ear.

“How did talking to the boss go?” Penny asks and Jake smiles.

“Really good, actually. Said I can have three weeks as long as nothing urgent comes up that’ll need the full team's attention.” 

“Well, if you ever need a nanny so you can have a break and none of us are available, my niece just moved to the area and is looking for work.” Penny says with a small smile as Jake moves to sit next to her. “Plus she has a degree in early childhood and special education.” 

“Okay, yeah I’ll let you know.” he says with a nod.

“Well, you can meet her tonight, she’s supposed to come and help me out here for the night since Jimmy can’t make it in.” Jake just nods and Penny pats his shoulder that Avery isn’t sleeping on while she stands to start opening duties for the bar. 

Jake didn’t end up meeting Penny’s niece that night, or any time in the following week. In fact, it wasn’t until the last week of his leave that he met her. 

Jake was holding Avery as he walked into the bar before it opened, she was babbling up a storm and he took his sunglasses off to put on the top of his head when he saw someone new behind the bar, head thrown back and laughing at something that Bob had said. 

You look over at him and he swears his heart stopped, “Hi! I’m Y/N Benjamin, but you can call me Saturn.”

------------

next part

-----------

taglist: if you want to join the taglist for all my future works, shoot me a message and i'll be happy to add you :)

@mandylove1000

[0verthemo0n]

FUTURE Ramattra General and romantic headcanons

This is my au that I don't know what to call it so oof...

Also, im not good with headcanons either...

Warning: i add spoiler alert, so if you see red, it means it's a spoiler to part 2. You can either skip it or just read it, it not that much important... I think...

General

So we're talking about Ramattra, but in the future, where he won the War, disbanded overwatch and well murdered a few junkers and talons... yeah.... sooo

10 years since he disbanded overwatch, so right now, he's 38 years old. Five years ago was the worst years for him, for many reasons, one of them is what you read in "this is what you wanted right"... punching zenyatta faceplate, and also realizing how his rules and his actions were too cruel, blinded by power.

But he changed, still stubborn and thinking he's the right, but he isn't cruel or power hungry anymore. He's got wiser.

Height, future ramattra upgraded his body, so his normal form is 7'5 feet tall. his Nemesis form is now 9"1 feet tall

Ramattra normally always in his office. He never gets much breaks, too focused on his paperwork and leader thing.

Ramattra likes ants and still does

He hates people who try to outsmart him or use his words against him. He won't hesitate to switch it back at you.

Mentioning him about Talon, he won't hesitate to get you out or shut you up, never EVER mention them.( The same goes Overwatch, but he'll show some respect)

Spoiler alert for part 2: Ramattra is the leader of the Seven Captains who help him with society, authority, and more.

His scarf has stars and constellations, but it's small... The clothes he wears are his old monk outfit but upgraded to show he's more than just a leader but a protector.

Romantic

he's a demisexual in this au

love language he would like to receive from his reader would probably be act of service, he would definitely love his reader that helps him around with work, especially if he thinks about settling down (probably will never happened )

Now, the way he expressed his love language would be a word of affirmation, this man would praise his reader and compliment them when they least expected. Would love see his reader get flustered. Bonus: If you praise him for doing something, you may not see it, but he lets a few steams(aka you flustered him)

He isn't much into physical touch, so his reader might have to give him time. He also prefers to do it private. He doesn't care about his reputation. Literally, he does not, but he doesn't like people interrupting his time with his reader.

Imagine Maximilian or some random omnic/human worker entering his office while he was about to get a kiss on the forehead or having a bunch of lipstick kisses all over his faceplate. He's gonna get teased.

When it comes to dates, he prefers simple places like a cafe restaurant(probably be annoying considering people will gossip or some paparazzi ruins it) in case his reader hungry or takes them to a place where both can do stargazing and talk about different constellations.

He has a lot of patience with his reader. If his reader is angry or something, he'll patiently wait for them to calm down.

Sometimes, he will ignore his work to have some alone time with his reader. Or make some excuse to check up on tjem.

Spoiler alert: if his reader is a human, he will get pissed if one of the seven captains ever insults or uses racist slur towards his reader, especially if his reader is married to him. He's not gonna tolerate any vile words towards his spouse.

[sporadicthingcollection]

A Day in the Life (Buggy the Clown x F!Reader)

Summary: The days are never dull with a baby on board. Pairing: LA!Buggy the Clown x F!Reader Rating: 🌶 Explicit 🌶 Word Count: ~3.2k Warnings: Infants in very mild peril, cunnilingus, PiV sex A/N: daddy buggy my beloved

---

4:41

Keeda’s fussing before the sun’s even up. And then you start fussing as soon as Keeda starts fussing.

“Your kid’s awake,” you grumble into his back.

Buggy has no choice but to fuss back. “Before dawn, he’s your kid.” You nudge him with your foot. He huffs. “I’m comfy, bitch. Get 'im yourself.”

You do not appreciate how comfortable he is. You knee his ass with each word -- not hard enough to hurt, but enough to make your point. “You. Are. A. Chop Chop man.”

...Yeah, alright, that's fair. Detaching his head and arms, he floats himself over to the crib.

Any other child would be concerned if their father’s disembodied head hovered above them, but Keeda’s never known any different. His grumbles turn to happy babbles, his chubby little face lighting up like the moon.

“Mornin’, ya li’l rugrat,” he says with a smile. “Starting on your bullshit early today, huh?”

He slips his hands under the boy’s arms and lifts him up and over to the bed. He's getting heavier, maybe about as much as a decent-sized cannonball. Makes sense, given his parents’ heights. 

His parts rejoin the rest of him and he lays back down, placing the baby on his chest. He's still not too big for that, at least.

You roll over — more of an aggressive flop, really — and tuck yourself up under his arm. “Hey, bug.”

"Hi, dear," Buggy replies.

You rest your head on his shoulder as you lay your hand on your son's back, rubbing in small circles. Keeda lets out a happy coo, his little fingers curling as he reaches out to you.

You take his hand and stroke it with your thumb. "Back to sleep, sweet baby," you mumble, already halfway there. "Back to sleep..."

Buggy waits for your breathing to even out and for Keeda to go still before he lays his head against yours.

———

9:03

"Son of a bitch!"

Buggy watches as you pitch the jar of baby food and spoon over the deck railing. "First you wake me up, then you pee on me, and now you won't eat!” You jam your finger into Keeda's face. “Why are you being such a little fucker today?!"

The boy giggles, kicking his legs and smearing his breakfast around. He's got your laugh, but that little hater attitude couldn't have come from anybody but his father.

Buggy's just glad it's not his turn to feed him. "Food's supposed to go in his mouth, ya know."

You flip him off without even looking at him. Keeda waggles his fingers like he's trying to mimic you, but he doesn't quite have the motor control down yet.

“I'm gonna go get a new jar,” you grumble. “Make sure he doesn't spontaneously combust or some shit.”

You slink off without waiting for confirmation. Buggy's not worried. You'll cool off in no time. And he gets to watch your ass as you walk away.

He turns his full attention to Keeda. He picks the boy up into his arms. “You really wanna piss your mom off?” he asks. The boy babbles in what he decides is a yes. “Give her hair a yank. She spent all morning on it and it'll drive her nuts.”

He knows Keeda shouldn't be able to understand him, but there's a sparkle of recognition in those big dark eyes as he reaches a little hand out to touch the hair peeking out from under Buggy’s bandana.

He knows grabby fingers when he sees them. He angles his head away. This does not deter Keeda, but merely changes his target.

And now for the most confusing emotion he's ever had. There's the usual agitation that comes from someone noticing... it... but it's Keeda. He's never mocked it or thought it odd or asked questions. He just thinks his daddy's neat.

He can't help the slight smile as he lets Keeda touch his face.

———

9:50

Richie’s liked Keeda from day one. He’s always smelling him and headbutting him and gently pawing him. Mohji thinks it's because he's trying to scent-mark the kid.

“Should I do something?” Buggy asks quietly.

Mohji shrugs. “He's laughing, isn't he? Richie wouldn't hurt a fly.”

Keeda giggles as Richie presses his nose against his head, gently sniffing. Richie lets out a pleased chuffle as he rubs his whiskers along Keeda’s face.

Mohji crosses his arms. “He doesn't do that to me,” he mutters.

“I’ll dunk you in tuna oil, if you want,” Buggy says. “He'll be all over you.”

“I think I'll pass--” Disgust turns to horror as Mohji blanches. “Oh shit!” 

Buggy whirls around. Richie has Keeda in his mouth. Completely in his mouth. Richie is a big lion and Keeda is a small baby.

Panic grips him. He's never actually had to fight a lion before, but it looks like that's what he's gonna have to do. You're gonna kill him anyways, so might as well go out in style--

Richie deposits Keeda at Buggy’s feet. The boy looks no worse for wear, if not a little confused and covered in kitty drool. The overgrown house cat looks very pleased with himself for taking a few years off of Buggy’s life.

Buggy glowers at Mohji. Mohji avoids eye contact and tries to shrink into his hoodie.

———

10:15

Well, after that, baby needs a bath. Fortunately, the giant soup pot in the galley is the perfect size for a little guy like Keeda.

Buggy hums an aimless tune as he rubs the shampoo into Keeda's hair. It's dark and thick like yours -- not to mention long. Kid’s hair grows faster than the rest of him.

He scoops up a fingerful of bubbles, then gently boops Keeda's little nose. The boy’s face scrunches up, and he goes cross-eyed as he grumbles.

An intrusive thought takes root. He chuckles to himself as he smooths Keeda's hair upwards. “Look, babe. Mohawk.”

“Keep the suds out of his eyes,” you warn from the doorway. 

He rolls his eyes. “I'm not gonna let him drown, ya know. You don't have to hover.”

You smile that narrow little smile of yours. “I like watching my boys.”

Buggy's chest tightens. How can one expression, one quirk of your lips, one flash of teeth make his stomach backflip? His breath catch? His cheeks burn?

A splash of sudsy water rushes up to hit him in the face. Seems the kid’s discovered volume displacement. He regrets going with a full beat this morning. Between the splashed water and the heat in his cheeks, this makeup is gonna melt right off.

———

12:24

Dropping an ear in Keeda's crib while he napped was a brilliant idea. Amazing, even. Buggy can be off doing Hot Dad Shit but still come running at the first sign of trouble.

And then the baby found it and it became less of a good idea.

"C'mon, give it back." He reaches for the ear, but Keeda shifts just out of reach, clutching it to his chest. Given the boy's grip strength, he can't just yank it out of his hands without ripping cartilage.

Buggy hears Keeda's heartbeat thumping as he slumps against the edge of the crib. "What the hell could you possibly want with an ear?"

Keeda looks him dead in the eyes. Slowly, slowly, slowly, he brings the ear to his mouth.

Buggy has never moved faster in his life. He shoots his hand off and claps it over Keeda's mouth. You were right, he is being a little fucker today.

Keeda's muffled whines catch your attention, and you stick your head into the cabin. "Having trouble, Captain?" you ask with a smirk.

"Your son's being a dick."

The smirk grows into a smile. "He gets it from his father."

———

14:21

As Captain, sometimes one must spring into action and help secure a loose cannon threatening to smash the hull. For that reason, Buggy appreciates his crew’s tolerance of having a baby shoved into their arms at barely a moment’s notice. Alvida, especially. He’s never known her to like kids, let alone infants, but she seems to make an exception for little Keeda. Sometimes he thinks she makes up reasons just to hold him for a bit.

She's smiling a big, cheesy smile at him as he returns from his heroics. The kid gazes up at her with his enormous eyes, returning the grin. Alvida then sticks out her tongue. Keeda does the same. She blows a raspberry, and Keeda giggles.

“Having fun with Auntie ‘Vida?” he asks.

“Time of his life.” She makes an angry face. Keeda's mouth screws up into a grumpy frown. “It's crazy how much he looks like you. Especially considering he doesn't have your--”

Her mouth shuts so hard and so suddenly that her teeth click.

Buggy keeps his voice low and even. “Doesn't have my what?”

Alvida blinks. “Hair. I was gonna say hair.”

...you know what? Acceptable.

“Eh, I'm just glad he's got ten fingers and ten toes.” He ignores the relief on her face as he takes his boy back. “His mom’s prettier anyways.”

———

15:46

You don't need a detached ear to know when your son is crying. Somehow, you know. You can be down in the bilge and you'll hear his whining from the top deck.

"What's going on?" you ask as you come up on deck.

Buggy watches as Keeda flops over onto his belly, thrashing his limbs and wailing. "He's mad because I won't load him into the cannon."

Keeda pauses in his fit as sees you, then lets out a bwuuuuuuuh and continues. He looks very much like a fresh fish as he flails around.

You watch him for a moment, then look at Buggy. A silly little glint sparkles in your eyes, the one that you have when you get a bad idea. The same one he saw during that first kiss you shared together.

“He would fit in a Buggy Ball shell,” he says.

You stare at him a moment longer, then shake your head. “We shouldn't.” Keeda lets out a wail that makes you flinch. “But we could.”

After a few moments, the boy runs out of steam, lying there like a dead bird on a beach and whimpering pathetically.

Buggy scoops him into his arms and brushes the tears away. "Can't load ya up, li'l man, but wanna see it go..." He pops his hands off and splays his fingers in front of Keeda's face, popping them apart at the knuckles. "...ka-boom?"

Keeda's agitation melts away like an ice cube in Hell, replaced with wide-eyed wonder. You take him and sit on a crate, covering his ears. You give Buggy a nod.

He grins. He points at a pair of idling crewmen -- the artillery boys, fortunately. "Ready piece!" he barks. “And make it snappy! My kid’s in the audience!”

Buggy appreciates how they trip over themselves rushing to the cannon. He really is lucky that his crew likes his kid half as much as he does.  Even if they “kidnap” him sometimes and hide him in the crew quarters to dote on him and to stress his parents out.

In moments, the Buggy Ball is loaded, the powder set, and the artillerymen stand at attention, waiting to light the fuse.

He holds his fist up. "Aim!"

The cannon is already in place, but he pauses for dramatic effect. A quick glance at Keeda's wide eyes and your little smile confirms it's working. 

He gives you both a little wink  "Fire!"

With a bang and a whistle, the shell flies up into the air. A safe distance away, it explodes into a shower of smoky crimson streaks.

They reflect nicely in your smiling eyes as Keeda squeals in delight.

———

19:02

Buggy sticks his tongue out. "Blah."

Keeda sticks his tongue out. "Blelck."

He puffs his cheeks out. Keeda puffs his cheeks out. He puckers his lips. Keeda puckers his lips.

He opens his mouth. "Ah."

Keeda opens his mouth as wide as he can, showing off his little pink gums. "Ah!"

Buggy jams the spoon in there before Keeda can even react. Blinking in surprise, he swallows, even licking some stray banana mush from his lips.

You watch, slumped across the table with your chin in your hand. "How are you so good at that?"

"Clown to clown communication. Sounds like this." He puts the spoon down and, squishing Keeda's cheeks, affects a croaky voice. "’Feed me. Feed meeee.’"

Your laugh your lovely seagull laugh and his heart flutters like a hummingbird.

———

20:50

“Don’t wake him up,” you warn as you open the door to the main cabin.

"I know, I know." He separates himself at the waist. “Floating, see? Shock absorber.”

Keeda snuffles and twitches. You both freeze, praying that he doesn’t wake up. He does not, and you relax.

You side eye him as he crosses the room, not letting up until he lays the boy down into the crib. You slip Mr Toucan in next to Keeda and pull the blanket up around him.

"Sweet dreams, li’l bug," you say.

"I'm not going to bed yet." You glower at him and he grins. That's never going to get old.

You tiptoe out with him close behind. He leaves his ear on the table, just in case.

The door clicks shut, and you both let out your held breaths. You hold your fist out and he knocks his knuckles against yours.

“Good job this time, Dad,” you say.

“I can be subtle when I want to be.” He drapes his arm around your shoulders. "Y’know, I was thinking..."

The breeze tousles your glossy hair so artfully. "Was wondering where the smoke was coming from."

He pulls you in closer, his hand wandering to the top of your thigh. You've been bitching about baby weight, but to him? You've never looked better. "Was thinking... Wanna make another?"

You give him a smirk that makes his cock twitch. You cross your muscular arms and it turns into a pulse. "Weird way to ask to go bareback."

"No, I mean it,” he says. "He looks like you and I want one that looks like me. Balance it out."

You breathe in sharply. The mischief in your eyes fades, replaced with thoughtfulness. You duck out from under his arm to saunter away. “Sell me on it.”

He follows. “What's cuter than one Keeda? Two Keedas,” he says. “Especially if it's a girl. Built-in double act. And I've got the perfect name for a girl.”

“Yeah?”

He gives you a big stupid grin. “Buggetta.”

You stare at him a moment, then crack a smile and make that glorious, glorious snnnrk noise. “Absolutely not.”

“To the name or to another kid? Because I'm fine with Buggy Junior if it's a boy--”

“Over my dead body we name a kid that.”

"Alright. Fine." He grabs your hips and pushes you against the deck railing. "Guess I'll just fuck you 'til you're knocked up again anyways and we can improvise."

You suck in a breath. Your tongue darts out to lick your lips. He goes in for a kiss, but you duck beneath his arms.

“Catch me and you can do whatever you want with me,” you say before taking off.

He sprints after you.

———

21:24

He wanted to be romantic. He wanted to be cool and suave and sweet for you. You, light of his life and his hard-won prize. You, his partner in crime and mother of his child. You deserve nothing less than the sultriest, slowest, languidest of lovemaking, full of sweet nothings whispered breathlessly into your thighs.

Unfortunately, just looking at you makes his cock leak and if he doesn't strip you down and fill you up as soon as possible, he's gonna make a mess of his last clean pair of underwear.

So that's how you ended up pinned between him and a crate in the cargo hold, moaning like a bitch in heat as he ruts into you. He's lucky you like it like that.

“Harder!” you spit.

He grunts into your shoulder as he snaps his hips. His tongue is busy taste-testing that sweet sweet clit of yours.

You let out a long, guttural groan. “Less talking, more -- ah, ff--!”

He must have hit something nice, because your back arches and your pussy flutters around his cock, squeezing it tight and making him damn near black out.

He hates this stupid condom. Hates it, hates it, hates it. Hates how he can't feel your warmth, your slick, your soft, satin walls as they clench. Hates how he can't fill you up with his cum, painting those lovely walls a pearly, sticky white. Hates how he can't fuck another baby into you.

...unless. Unless he's lucky and it breaks. Or if it's just a piece of cheap shit not worth the paper box it came out of.

Oh yes. Oh, then he'd be lucky. Then he'd get what he wants. He'd get you pregnant. Again. You’d be all soft around the edges and glowing like a full, terracotta moon with hair as glossy as a fresh tube of lipstick.

His hips stutter. Yes yes yes yes yes--!

He grips your hips tight as he thrusts into you, not stopping until his balls are drained and his cock is limp. He flops against you, burying his face in your minty, citrusy, cinnamon-y hair.

“I love you,” he mumbles.

He can hear the smile in your voice. “Love you too, Bugs.”

———

00:57

Sad little whimpers in his ear distract him from his carousing with the crew. You're significantly more fucked up than he is and on round eight of a three-round game of cards, so he slips away without disturbing you.

Keeda is sleeping when he enters his cabin, but the little twitches and whimpers suggest it’s not a restful one.

He tickles the bottom of his foot -- his teeny tiny little foot -- and the boy wakes with a start. He starts to cry, only to falter as he sees his father, his lip quivering and his eyes watering. 

Buggy scoops the boy into his arms. “Shh,” he says. “Daddy's here. Don't worry.”

He strokes his fingers through the boy’s hair. Keeda coos like a dove, trying to burrow his face into his chest. Failing in that endeavor, he peers up at Buggy with those enormous eyes.

Somewhere, deep in his heart, Buggy knows that all the treasure in the world couldn't match the feeling of holding his son in his arms. And that all the praise and all the applause would be nothing compared to the way you smile at him like you have a secret to keep.

But why settle for just two people when he could have the adoration of them all?

He sits down on the bed, propped up against the headboard, cradling the boy close. “You're gonna be a prince someday,” he whispers. “A little pirate prince. Daddy’s gonna be king and they’re gonna love you as much as him.”

Keeda exhales heavily, letting out a soft peep as he goes limp. His eyes drift closed.

Buggy is suddenly very aware of how tired he is. He lays back into the pillows. “Go to sleep,” he murmurs. “Go to sleep...”

---

To the "Curious Courtship" Masterpost | To the Mastahpost | Tip Jar

[freestyle-crocodile-trashpile]

Hello! I was wondering if you could do a part two of Face down. Like the aftermath of this or where M!MC does something similar to the other brothers (like they are being annoying and end up on the ground suddenly?). Sorry if this is confusing im not used to sending asks

[A/n: Your find, don't worry about it 😊. Thank you for requesting]

Summary: Part 2 to "face down"

Type:Scenario:Brothers + dateables X M!MC

Version:NightBringer

~

The Satan incident was definitely unexpected, but it proved Diavolos' point. You were the perfect attendant, strong, brave, kind, won't take no one's shit, etc. You could handle the brothers, but the real question is, how? You handle them like you've known them? It confused Diavolo, especially since he gets this familiar feeling around you. But besides that, the Brothers seem to enjoy your company.... Besides Satan, of course. He needs some time to cool down, especially after you bodied him. Lucifer was also cautious around you, but still enjoyed your company. After all, you didn't slam Lucifer to the ground. Diavolo was quite entertained by your way of doing things, especially since Satan wasn't the only one who got bodied. Leviathan was the next. He just couldn't hold his jealousy in. He got so angry about you getting a game that he wanted before him. He got so mad that he went to cocytus hall himself, well kinda. Mammon and Lucifer was with him.

"YOU!"

You turned to see a pissed off Levi, along with a confused Mammon and Lucifer. You smiled at them, giving a small wave.

"Mm? Is something wrong?"

You said once you realized Levi was pissed. He didn't say anything just stormed up to you until he was inches away from your face. You raised your eyebrow confused. Then, you remembered the day of the TSL competition. That's when your face changed from confusion to serious. You knew if he tried to attack, he'd have the advantage. He would be ready, and you would be caught off guard. He's waiting. Like a true snake. For the perfect moment to strike, just one second, and you're done for, he's close enough to kill you. You'd have to do it first. So, as soon as you see his hand twitch, you quickly grab his shirt, bending down and putting your hand through his legs to grab the back of his shirt, you then lift him and throw him over your shoulder, in one quick motion, Levi's on the ground. Stunned, he stared at the ceiling as you leaned over him.

"Don't even try Leviathan."

You said his name with a venomous tone, giving him the chills. He gulped and nodded, not knowing how he knew his intention. Smiling, you walk away, leaving him on the floor. Mammon helped his younger brother up as Lucifer watched you walk away. The moment stuck with Levi for a day or so. Then it went away. He forgot about it, his kind being more occupied with his games and anime... until you did it again. You were in the living room with Asmo and Levi. You weren't paying attention to what Asmo was saying, more focused on the TV in front of you. Beelzebub had been pissed off that day. Someone ate his custard. You, Levi, and Asmo were the only ones in the house besides Beel. He was looking for his brothers, or just anyone in the house. When he walked in the living room, he practically growled.

"Who. Ate. My. Custard."

You three looked towards him, and no one said anything. You didn't eat it, but neither did Asmo and Levi. You made eye contact with Beel and shrugged. He only narrowed his eyes at you. You stared back at him, neither of you looking away. You knew what he was thinking, so you narrowed your eyes back at him.

"You got the wrong guy, Beelzebub."

He huffed and walked towards you. Leaning down over the couch to be face to face with you. Beel was in his demon form, well... technically, he never got out of it. He had a glare on his face, clearly not believing you. He had many reasons. One, you didn't live there, so you probably didn't know the rules. Two.... he didn't have another reason. You glared back at him.

"Prove it"

You gave a nasty look. How would you prove it? You can't, you didn't eat it.

"How?"

He didn't give an answer. He just glared at you, and you returned the look. He growled again as he stood up, grabbing the collar of your shirt. He picked you up off the couch. Pulling at your shirt, to hopefully get it out of his grip, you did eventually get put off his grip. But you getting out of his grip didn't stop him. He tried to grab you again... but he was fast, way faster than you. As soon as he grabbed your shirt, you grabbed his arm. Gripping it as hard as possible until he winced and let go, then while he was distracted you kicked his shin, then using that moment to grab his shirt, putting all your strength into lifting him, you let go of his arm and grabbed his belt for more help. Somehow, you completely lifted Beel off the ground and above your head. You stayed like for a second, surprised you just lifted him up. But as soon as that second of surprise was up, he was thrown over the couch onto the coffee table. The coffee table broke on impact, Levi jumped, almost throwing his Nintendo, Asml sat their completely baffled. You didn't notice the others who walked in. Lucifer stood there shocked, Mammon shivered, Satan's eyes widened since he ate the custard, and Belpie, he had rushed to Beel. You let out a sigh and chuckled. As you looked over. Lucifer had given you a nod of approval as the others still stood shocked.

~

[A/n: Is this good? I hope you enjoyed]