#and of course everyone’s relationships n’ such

[sleep-0-deprived]

Could you do Dom! Yan teacher and Yan Bully fighting over a himbo reader?

Yan teacher vs Yan bully x male reader imagines~! ໒꒰ྀི˶ˆᗜˆ˵ ꒱ྀི১

Taglist: @yyuinaa @kimisbunny @asher-is-hotxp @silvern1006 @unstab1eperson2 @dewday1 @blond3ang3l @creepy141dollie @m4r13ll @ihavezeropancreas @sooobiinn @just-ignore-them @fuckingmxonlight @nightwinglover101 @chasingknives

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Jus imaginin you bein a star football player- bein all handsome N’ fit but a total dummy— as oblivious to your surroundings as ever and boy if the captain of your team didn’t let you know jus how stupid he thinks you are!…oh he’s plain O’l cruel, makin you stay after practice slapping you for your mistakes grabbing your ass N’ groping you secretly on tha field like he owns you- he loves havin you to himself N’ making jokes bout you infront of everyone else but boy if he isn’t totally smitten by you…he’s full blown infatuated to the point where it’s insane? I mean he beats you bloody jus to see you look at him all pathetic

Jus imaginin bein a total pet for your college professor, I mean all tha extra tutorin has you close with him is all? That’s just it right!..? But oh no he’s dead set you’re his pretty boy- his pretty baby N’ all you can do is sit wide eyed like a pursed puppy before him, gosh he’d eat you alive if he could- he’d squish you N’ grab you like a lil boy toy but he can’t with that big O’l meanie who’s always by your side, but boy if your professor doesn’t like playin your hero, swoop in an Savin that pretty jaw from his blows.

Jus imaginin your bully givin up bein sweet on you, he starts bein all mean again, punching you N’ gripping you tight makin your big eyes swell up jus so he can angrily try N’ make out with you— poor you bein all confused not even protesting when his flushed cock is in your face, his tip all mushroomed and leakin all over the shaft N’ pressing into your inner cheek— he loves the way you pout, all sloppy with your drool on the ground sitting on your knees is a picture perfect sight to him. Of course your professor finds out, he won’t even look you N’ your eyes after that!

Jus imaginin your professor givin you the silent treatment- gaslighting and tearin your pretty boy status down til your needy and apologetic practically beggin for his forgiveness- these two men were ruinin you- a once happy go lucky man bein twisted into a toxic relationship between two big O’l meanies…N’ why was riding your professors cock the only way to get his forgiveness? “Mh, sirr- are you sure there isn’t a’nother wayy~” your voice is whiny gripping onto his desk with lewd plaps fillin up the room havin his hand on your hip with your lips pressing together forming an ‘O’ shape while his hands rest on your hips liftin and droppin you on his cock havin your insides squished to his size.

Jus imaginin your bully findin out about you and your professor— seein your flushed face and your limp when you show up for practice, it doesn’t take a genius to see you jus took the fuckin of a life time an’ he was full of rage that he wasn’t the man that gave it too ya. Oh how your poor body never catches a break- you’re bent over in the locker room grippin for dear life while he jus grunts and huffs angrily in your ear like a upset dog, your rim burns from bein stretched too long N’ your inner walls are all bruised N’ slick still from your professors cock- he can feel it and he knows you can too.

Jus imaginin the two men tryin to be at each others throats when you turn away N’ playing all nice when you’re around, your bully bein all ruthless T’ you jus so your professor can swoop in N’ be your savior, jus thinkin your bully tryin to be nice f’ once when he sees how close you are T’ the professor—maybe if he sweetens up he can have ya. Your bully bein mean to you until he sees you tuck tail and runin to Him..oh boy if that didn’t make his blood boil seeing you all clingy to that dumb old man—

[pinkboaclub]

Professor Styles

Summery: Harry is your professor who also mentors you in the field you aspire to pursue. One night, while at his home, things go a little to far.

Words: 3k

Warnings: smut, teacher-student relationship (university-everyone is of age with no large age gap), alcohol consumption, fem!reader

“It asks us to ponder how we preserve the image of power, and what those images reveal about the societies that create them.” Professor Styles said, beginning to wrap up his lesson on Oliver Cromwell's death mask. “That’s all I have for you today.”

As everyone around you gathered their things and headed for the door, you took your time, collecting your supplies. You waited for a moment, knowing you needed to speak with Mr. Styles.

One of your male classmates was already engaged in conversation with him, asking a few last-minute questions before wishing him a good weekend and leaving the lecture hall. As the room emptied out, his eyes found yours, and he offered a small smile.

"Hi," you greeted him.

"Hello, Ms. Y/L/N," he replied, his tone warm and professional.

You hesitated for a moment before speaking again. "I just wanted to confirm that we're still on for tonight."

"Of course," He said, his smile widening. "I have a feeling we'll get very far."

To anyone else, overhearing a student and their professor engaged in such a conversation might raise some red flags, but in this context, it was strictly professional.

"Definitely," you replied, nodding. "I've already completed most of the pigment analysis. I just need you to review the results tonight."

"Sounds perfect. I'll see you tonight, then."

"See you tonight," you said, before turning and walking out of the lecture hall, the door closing softly behind you.

You had been working to become an art restorer, specifically taking paintings and reconstructing and restoring them. When Professor Styles had overheard you telling another student this, he offered to be your mentor, as he was very familiar in the field. So, for the past three months, you would come over to his home every Friday, learning and practicing to restore paintings.

That night, you sat on his couch, grabbing some of your research from your tote bag as Professor Styles—or Harry, as he preferred you to call him outside of class—grabbed you a glass of water.

“So, we can go over your pigment analysis,” He places the glass of water in front of you. “Also, I have a gift for you.”

“Oh, a gift? I wish I had gotten you something.” He chuckled at your remark, walking to his book shelf and pulling two large paintings from a portfolio bag leaning against it.

He held one painting in each hand and turned them around to reveal them to you. They were two old, beat up paintings that had severe chipping and cracks all over them, but they were absolutely gorgeous. A gold mine for a aspiring art restorer:

“Wow,” you leaned in closer as he walked toward you to give you a better look. “These are beautiful, what are they? Where did you get them?”

“Won them at an auction, someone’s great grandfather’s old painting, I thought they’d be perfect to practice on.” You had previously only worked on paintings you found at thrift stores, and that was before Harry even began mentoring you.

“They’re perfect, thank you, Harry.” You looked up at him, giving him a smile.

“Of course.” He returned the smile, a soft, appreciative look in his eyes. “Those are going to take a couple weeks to finish, but it will teach you a lot. Let’s go over what you have first.”

He placed the paintings back in their portfolio bag and sat beside you on the couch. As he rolled up his sleeve, you couldn’t help but notice the muscular forearms that were now on full display. The slight brush of his skin against yours every time he leaned in made your stomach flutter, and you quickly tried to focus on the task in front of you to keep your composure.

It would be a lie if you said you had never noticed Harry in a way that went beyond a professor or mentor. He was undeniably handsome—tall, charismatic, with a presence that filled the room. It had become harder to focus on anything but him, especially since you’d started talking more outside of your shared passion for art history.

After a random comment about his bookshelf one night, the two of you had ended up spending the rest of the night talking about music, literature, and sharing recommendations. Those conversations had brought you closer—far closer than you had anticipated—and, if you were being honest, had only made your feelings for him grow.

But you tried to push those thoughts aside, focusing on the task at hand.

"Let’s see what you’ve got," he said. You gathered the stack of research papers you’d compiled over the week from the coffee table and handed them to him. He had tasked you with studying the chemical compositions of paint from various historical periods. "This is great," he remarked, flipping through the pages. "This will also be incredibly useful for restoring those paintings." He said, pointing towards the paintings he just showed you. You took a sip from the glass of water he'd offered, the coolness easing the subtle nerves you felt around him.

The night continued with you two talking about your research, where to go from here, and the paintings he had given you.

As your conversation went on, it started to diverge from art. You now sat comfortably with a glass of red wine he had offered you, him sitting across from you, doing the same. The topics were easy and light until Harry shifted the conversation.

“So, how are things going in your other classes?” he asked, genuinely curious, his gaze focused on you with an intensity that made you pause.

You shrugged, the words coming out a little more candidly than you intended. “Pretty good. They can be hard to focus on sometimes.”

“Hard to focus?” Harry echoed, his eyebrows lifting slightly. “How so?”

You chuckled softly, the honesty feeling strangely liberating. “Mm, it’s just...not as interesting,” you admitted, almost laughing at the thought of telling one of your professors that your other classes sucked, though the red wine helped with that.

Harry didn’t seem offended or put off by your answer—in fact, he seemed more intrigued. “They’re still art classes, right? You don’t enjoy them?”

“I do. I definitely do,” you reassured him. “But, your class is definitely the best. I feel like it’s the only one where I’m actually moving toward my goal of becoming an art restorer.”

Harry nodded thoughtfully, a small smile playing on his lips as if he was flattered. “I get it. It’s hard when you’re taking a bunch of classes, and only one of them really feels like it’s leading you somewhere you want to go.”

You exhaled, relieved he didn’t think you were simply disinterested in your studies. “Yeah, exactly. I feel like the rest of them are just kind of...a filler.”

“Well,” he said, leaning back on the couch, “even the ones that don’t seem directly related to your goals still help build the foundation for what you want to do. You might not see it now, but everything connects in its own way.” He looked deeply into your eyes, making you nervous.

“I know,” you agreed, taking a small sip of wine to give you a moment to collect your thoughts. “I know, it’s just hard sometimes when I can’t see the bigger picture.”

Harry met your eyes with an understanding that made you feel like he genuinely saw you, not just as a student, but as someone working hard toward a future they were passionate about. “It’s okay to feel that way,” he said softly. “It’s part of the process. But it will all click, eventually.”

You felt a quiet connection in his words, the kind that seemed to resonate deeper than just the academic advice he'd offered. You hadn’t realized how much his reassurance meant to you until that moment. The wine made everything feel softer, and for a brief second, you let your guard down, your gaze lingering on his face.

Harry smiled gently, and there was a warmth in his expression that made you feel seen in a way you hadn’t quite expected. The conversation drifted back to more casual matters, but there was a new undercurrent to the air—an unspoken understanding between the two of you that made everything feel a little more…charged.

As the evening went on, the distance between the two of you seemed to shrink. Harry, though still maintaining his professional demeanor, seemed more at ease. You found yourself laughing more freely, your nerves slowly melting away. The way his eyes crinkled at the corners when he smiled, how his voice softened when he spoke to you, it was all so comforting. You couldn't help but wonder if, just maybe, he felt some of the same magnetic pull you did.

At one point, you found yourself leaning a little closer to the table, showing him a particular section of your research. You didn’t mean to move so near, but the way you both reached for the papers at the same time brought your hands dangerously close. His fingers brushed against yours, and for a second, neither of you moved. It felt like time had stopped, like the world outside the house had disappeared.

His gaze flicked from your hand to your eyes, and you just looked at each other. His expression softened, the playful edge of the conversation shifted into something quieter, something more intimate.

"Ms. Y/N," he murmured, voice low, "you really are talented. I mean it." His voice was sincere, and the way he said your name made your heart beat quicker.

You swallowed, a little nervous but not wanting to back away from the moment. "Thank you, Harry. It means a lot coming from you." Your breath felt heavier as your heart raced and the intensity of his gaze made it hard to look away.

He hesitated for a second before his gaze dropped to your lips and you immediately felt a shift in the air. It was sudden and unexpected, yet somehow felt right. When he leaned into you, you couldn’t help but do the same, instinctively closing the space between you.

Then, before either of you could second-guess it, his lips brushed yours. It was quick, gentle and soft. For a moment you almost forget where you were, until you both pulled away.

You blinked, heart thudding loudly in your chest as you met his eyes, unsure of what to say, unsure of what had just happened. Harry looked just as surprised, his breath was heavy, though his expression was kind, almost apologetic. "I—I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—"

"No," you cut him off, feeling a surge of warmth rush to your face. "It’s okay. I...I don’t know what that was." You stayed silent for a moment, though it felt like hours.

You both leaned in again, your lips colliding, faster and harder than the first. Though, this time, you didn’t stop. His hand went to your hip, pulling you closer to him as one of your hands went to his face and the other to his shoulder.

You both slowly leaned back, laying yourself on the couch as he hovered over you. He soon helped you out of your sweater, quickly pulling away from your lips, but immediately finding them again once your sweater was gone. His hands roamed your body as both of you got lost in each other.

Harry pulled away again, an almost shocked expression on his face.

“Is this okay? I’ll stop right now if you want me too, we can pretend this never happened, it won’t affect anyt-“ he hastily asked, but before he could continue, you kissed him again, giving him his answer. You definitely wanted this.

You tugged at his shirt, telling him to take it off, to which he complied. He begins to kiss down your shoulders before unbuttoning your pants.

“Professor,” you pulled him back up to your lips. You, your body, needed to skip the foreplay and get right to it, you were desperate for him. “I want you, now.” You said in between kisses.

He nodded his head, understanding what you were saying. He helped you out of your jeans and underwear before you helped him out of his.

His hand travels down, making sure you were prepped enough before he started. There was no question, you were sure you had never been this wet before. His hand traveled to your clit and began rubbing it.

“Fuck, you’re so beautiful.” He admired your body before running his cock up and down your slick folds.

“Mm, Professor.” You moaned out with your eyes closed, taking in the very little pleasure he was giving you.

“Harry, baby,” He corrected you. “M’not sure how many times I’m going to have to remind you, darling.”

You smiled and nodded, but to be honest, you couldn’t think of anything else other than him pushing inside you as quickly as possible. When he finally did, you hadn’t realized how big he was, but had to get adjusted quickly.

"Can I move?" He asked as he pecked the corner of your mouth. You quickly nodded and wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him even closer. He kissed you again as he pulled out, leaving just the head inside before thrusting back in. You kissed each other as Harry rocked his hips into you, quickly slipping into a steady pace. He reached down to circle your clit as he kissed your neck and you gasped at the sensation.

Your moans felt like they never stopped as both or your body’s thrusted, being motivated by the built up sexual tension. His pace quickened, causing you to be louder, incoherently moaning and whimpering, which he loved. He looked down at you, taking in the pleasure you got from his cock.

“You’re so perfect, taking my cock so well.” He grabbed one of your legs, holding the back of your knee to get an angle where he could repeatedly hit your g-spot. “Do you know how long I’ve thought about this? How long have I had to watch you in class, pushing down any thoughts of doing exactly what I’m doing right now?”

You moaned out, acknowledging his confession. Every memory you had in his class came rushing back, every time you accidentally made eye contact, was he thinking abou fucking you then? When you purposely wore a skimpy outfit, did he notice?

As you felt your stomach tighten, your moans called out his name repeatedly. “I’m gonna cum soon Ha-” Before you could finish, speaking and cumming, he pulled out of you and looked back into your eyes.

“Need to see you ride me, is that okay?”

“Yes, yes.” You cried out, climbing on to straddle him. You both moved quickly, eager to please each other.

You lined yourself up with his cock, slowly lowering yourself onto him. His hands tightly hold your hips to keep you steady. You start moving up and down, your hands holding yourself up on his shoulders.

Harry watches you in awe, fascinated by your body moving up and down him, your breasts bouncing up and down, your back slightly arched, and your hair beautifully swaying around. Fascinated at how you still look angelic during such unholy activities. You moved your hips faster, looking down to see Harry appear and disappear inside of you.

Your mouth falls open as his cock hits your g-spot with every thrust and his hand moves to rub your clit. Your bounces started to become sloppy as your legs became weak, both from the repetitive movement and the pleasure.

Harry wrapped one of his hands behind your back, pushing you closer to his chest and letting you rest your head on his shoulder.

“Shh, I’ve got you, let me make you come.” He shifted his hips, gaining a better position before thrusting up into you.

“Fuck, Harry.” You grunted as his hips slammed into you, but his protective arm still held your back in place.

“I know, I know,” he turned his head towards your ear, holding his lips to it. “Let yourself cum, I wanna feel you squeeze my cock, darling.”

His sultry voice whispering in your ear was enough to send you over the edge.Your cunt pulsed around Harry as your climax hit you, sending him spiraling over the edge as well. You collapsed on top of him, your full body weight leaning into him and your head resting on his shoulder.

You both sat there, bodies sweating, chests rising up and down, saying nothing. You had almost forgotten where you were but, how could you? You were in your professor’s arms, sitting on his cock, coming down from an orgasm.

The words rang in your head again…until you lifted your head up, avoiding eye contact with Harry, despite his eyes trying to find yours. What if he hated you after this? What if this was the end of your relationship with him?

You lifted yourself up, slowly looking for your clothes. Harry, with a worried look on his face, did the same. Both of you put your clothes on, still saying nothing.

“I’m sorr-“

“That was very unprofe-“

You both spoke at the same time, then stayed silent.

“I’m sorry if I crossed a line. That was very unprofessional of me.” Harry spoke up, both of you finally locking eyes.

“It’s okay.” You whispered. “Uhm…I should go, though.” You grabbed your papers and your bag, slinging it over your shoulder and heading to the door.

Harry walked behind you, holding the door open, watching you begin to walk away.

“I am sorry, Y/N.” You turned back, not knowing what to say. You weren’t mad at him, at all. You were mad at yourself.

“See you on Monday, Mr. Styles.”

[noxitsnox]

I can’t fall asleep without you

hyun-ju x gn!reader

summary: after disappearing for days, your girlfriend comes back home.

tags: angst, hurt/comfort, transphobia and police incompetence , like one curse word

a/n: studying is for weaks, real alpha men (me) write hyun-ju x readers instead. seriously tho, i fear this might be full of grammatical errors but i'm too tired to proof read and correct them ㅠㅠ

also she didn't win the game, it's as if she and everyone else managed to escape after ep. 7 ‼️‼️

today it was your four year anniversary.

or at least it should have been. it would have been if hyun-ju didn't just disappear into nothingness. you couldn't help but be angry. you saved up for months to afford taking her to a really nice restaurant in the centre, called to make a reservation at the beginning of the year. you would've never guessed that you'd spent this day without her.

when you woke up that morning, the morning she disappeared, you were surprised by hyun-ju not being on bed by yourside. usually she'd wake up with you and you two would have breakfast together before leaving for work. even if it was weird you didn't think anything of it. probably she just left earlier for work, she always tried to do some extra shifts when it was possible. you sent her a 'good morning' text and went on with your day.

when you checked your phone during lunch break hyun-ju had not replied your text yet. hell, she didn't even see it. anger, frustration, worry started to make their way all the way up to your mind. but you forced yourself to calm down and think logically. was it strange that she didn't answer? of course it was, but maybe she just didn't have lunch yet, or her phone was dead or she forgot it in the car. it was strange, sure, but not illegal. it didn't matter, because at the end of the day she'd come back home to you.

or so you thought.

that night she never came home. she didn't answer your texts, she didn't pick up your calls... with all the things you heard on the news, all that violence and hate that was slowly growing in the street you were afraid she was attacked. what if she was hurt? what if she needed you to be by her side?

so you called all the hospital of the cities asking for her. none of their patients had her name or fitted her description.

every possible scenario came into your mind. anxiety, panic, fear didn't allow you to think rationally. you wanted to just storm out of the house and go to the police station. but it was still too early to involve the police. you forced yourself to sleep, you would have reported her missing the next day after work.

for some reason, you really believed that the police would help you. why wouldn't they care about a missing person? you almost forgot hyun-ju and you weren't élite citizen, the ones the police cares about, the ones who deserved to be saved.

you went there stressed and afraid, with a trembling voice you told them that hyun-ju didn't come home in two days, that she's not answering the phone and that she never talked about wanting to just leave. holding your heart in your hands you told them your worries only to be met with laughter and judgement.

the policeman told you with a grin that it was useless to do anything, that she's probably just ran away with some rich old man, after all that's what these people do. he told you you were wrong for trusting one of them, to stop waisting time chasing after her and to start looking for a normal partner.

when you returned home you were furious.

hyun-ju, she wasn't that kind of person. they spoke ill of her without knowing anything. she didn't just leave. she couldn't have done it. if something was wrong in the relationship she would've just talked to you. why wouldn't she?

for the first time since all of this happened, you cried. you sat on the couch on the small living room and observed your surroundings. all of her things were still there, exactly where she left them. her black heels were still by the door from your night out nights ago, on the coffee table was the book she was reading with a bookmark towards the centre, her cardigan gently laying on the back of a chair at the dining table...

you spent the next days in misery. you called in sick at work and stared at the ceiling all day. holding the phone in his hand all the time, anxiously waiting for her name to pop up on the screen. Every time you got a message your hopes would rise, only to vanish completely when you saw your mother's name.

eventually a friend came to check on you. they asked how you were doing, you told them what happened, they said hyun-ju was a bitch, you got angry and screamed at them to leave the house.

after they left, you did felt bad about yelling. after all they were just trying to help you. and they did. you needed to take control back. laying on bed won't make hyun-ju come back.

you quickly sent them a message to apologize before hopping in the shower. you started tidying up the house, cleaning the kitchen and putting away the clothes in that black hole you call a closet. even cooked too much rice for dinner, after four years you weren't used to one person portions anymore.

looking in the mirror you said you were doing this for yourself, but in the back of your mind you knew who you were actually doing this for.

you didn't even notice how tired you were until you sat on the couch to clean up the coffee table. with the rag still in your hand you fell asleep.

you dreamed of summer, warm sun hitting your skin and wet hair. the orange color of the sun's rays reflected on the sea and on your faces. hyun-ju's hair were up in a ponytail, her white t-shirt stuck to her skin and a wide smile was printed on her face.

you remembered this day. it was your first summer together and you managed to rent a small apartment near the beach for a couple of days. you spent those days in your own world made of chattering and laughter.

a sudden noise disturbed the image that had been created, it was external to the dream.

you tried to ignore it but it only got louder and louder until you opened your eyes. with the typical confusion that comes when you've just woken up, it took you a while to realize that someone was knocking at the door.

you looked at the clock on the wall. it was barely 5 in the morning. you cursed under your breath as you walked toward the door. who the hell would knock on someone's door so early in the morning?

looking through the peephole a shiver ran down your spine.

was this still a dream or was it really her?

you opened the door energetically. hyun-ju was actually standing there in front of you. hair in a messy ponytail, she was wearing a green tracksuit stained with blood and dirt and white shoes. she looked shaken, as if she could have started crying at any moment.

you freezed in front of the door, unable to move or say anything. you didn't know what you were supposed to do, how to feel. part of you wanted to be mad, but how could you be mad at her when she looked like that?

you noticed that she was shaking, her arms wrapped around her body trying to gather as much heat as possible. she kept her gaze down, as if she were ashamed to be there, right in front of you.

"hyun-ju...", you finally talked. your voice was a whisper audible only to the two of you. you moved to let her pass through the door. "it's cold. come inside." she didn't say anything. the more you looked at her the more she looked like a ghost of herself.

neither of you sat down. you were standing in front of each other in silence. minutes that seemed like hours passed before she spoke. she told you she was gonna shower, change into clean clothes before leaving you alone in the living room.

when she got out of the bathroom she looked more like herself. she sat at the kitchen table and you put a cup of the tea you made while waiting in front of her before taking a seat next to her.

"y/n-" "where have you been?" you interrupted her, sounding harsher that intended. she shook her head, "it's not important right now... you wouldn't believe me anyway." "it's not important, hyun-ju? you're telling me it's not important, seriously-" this time she was the one who interrupted you, rising her voice to match yours. "y/n c'mon i just came back i don't feel like fighting."

you got up from the table, walked a few step away to calm down. part of you recognized that this wasn't the best way to have this conversation, but you couldn't hold back any longer, all the emotions that had accumulated in your heart these days took over.

"i can't believe you. you were gone! for days you disappeared from earth, you wouldn't even answer your phone and when came back your clothes were covered in blood!"

she sighed but didn't say anything so you continued.

"do you know how worried i was? i called very hospital, i even went to the police but you were nowhere to be found. i thought you were dead, hyun-ju... dead!" without realizing it you started crying.

there was silence before she spoke. "y/n i'm sorry, i'm really really sorry", she got up and walked closer to you, wrapping her arms around you. "i didn't think i'd be gone for this long. but i'm here now, i won't go anywhere." from her voice you could say she was crying too. "i'll tell you what happened, but tonight please let me just forget about it."

you broke the hug to look up in her eyes. "do you promise you'll tell me everything?" "i do, i promise."

[parkerslatte]

Hand in Hand

Kang Dae-ho x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 2.3k

Warnings: mentions of death. blood and injury. established relationship.

Summary: During the mingle game, Y/N and Dae-ho stay together the whole time. But when the final round begins, the two are separated.

Squid Game Masterlist

The platform moved beneath Y/N’s feet and she jerked to the side, her hand firmly clasped in Dae-ho’s hand. If she weren’t in a life or death situation, she would have probably had fun. The game was one she had played when she was younger, though without the death aspect. The rest of their small group quietly spoke to one another, discussing what number they suspected would be called. Y/N didn’t pay any attention to it, all she could focus on were the puddles of blood spreading across the floor. The platform seemed empty compared to what it looked like at the very start of the game. 

“Are you okay?” Dae-ho asked. 

“No,” Y/N answered instantly and honestly. 

“Me neither,” Dae-ho replied, seemingly taking a small step closer to Y/N. 

“We need to get out of here,” Y/N said as the platform continued to spin. 

The joyful song contrasted the mood of every player, with the exception of player 230 and player 124 who were happily dancing along. Y/N rolled her eyes. How anyone could be having fun was beyond her. 

The platform jerked to a stop and Y/N stumbled and looked at Dae-ho, there was a quick flash of terror in his eyes before he seemed to quickly calm himself for Y/N’s benefit. 

“Don’t let go of my hand,” Dae-ho said, squeezing Y/N’s hand tighter. 

“I won’t,” Y/N promised, practically holding onto his arm. 

“Two,” the voice called out. 

Almost immediately, Dae-ho began sprinting, Y/N struggling to keep up. It was by far the most chaotic round yet as many others pushed each other fighting to get into a room. There were only enough rooms for one hundred of the remaining one hundred and twenty six players. The yellow room Dae-ho was sprinting towards came into view. The closer they got, the faster Dae-ho seemed to drag her as nothing but desperation and adrenaline coursed through his veins. The more they ran, the further away the room seemed to get. 

No matter what, Y/N couldn’t ignore the chaos that was happening around her. People fought each other to get to a room, some even going as far as to pull others out of rooms, leaving others helplessly trying to find another room or trying to get back into the very same one they were kicked out from. There were also players that had already seemed to give up. Remaining where they stood on the moving platform not even attempting to run for a door.  Y/N only tightened her grip on Dae-ho’s hand. 

Suddenly before them, two people ran into the yellow room they were heading towards and Dae-ho slid to a stop. Panicked, Y/N scanned the area. 

“There!” she shouted over the shouts of everyone, pointing to a red room not too far away. 

As soon as she pointed it out, they began sprinting over to it, Y/N nearly slipping on the many puddles of blood covering the floor. Y/N wanted nothing more than to close her eyes but she knew that she needed to stay focused. One fall could end her life in this room, she had witnessed it herself with Young-mi. 

Just as they were a few steps from the door, a heavy force pushed Y/N away from Dae-ho and to the ground. A pained cry left Y/N’s lips as she landed awkwardly on her ankle. Dae-ho immediately turned around and before he could help her back to her feet, the man who had crashed into Y/N began pulling Dae-ho into the room. 

Dae-ho struggled against him. “Get off me! Y/N!”

The man struggled against Dae-ho’s instant attempts to break free of his grip yet the man’s grip remained strong and forceful. 

“Y/N!” he yelled and tried to run back to her but the forceful grip of the man who had pushed her down was too strong as he pushed Dae-ho towards the room. 

Y/N was still on the ground the moment the door closed in her face. Despite the chaos in the room, Y/N could only hear Dae-ho’s desperate cries as he tried to force his way out of the room. A tear slipped down Y/N’s cheek. There was no way she would be able to get to a room in time, there was no one around who had taken notice of her. She could run back to the platform and drag one of the people who had remained there but there was no way they would make it to a room in time. 

With a sharp inhale, Y/N stood to her feet, prepared to limp over to the door where Dae-ho was barricaded inside, her mind already made up. If she was going to die, the last thing she wanted to see was him. Before she could even get close, a force pushed her to the right and away from the red door towards a purple one. Y/N tried to struggle until she noticed the person’s familiar face. 

“Gi-hun?” Y/N questioned as she was pushed into the room with only a second to spare. 

The lock clicked into place the moment Gi-hun slammed the door closed. Y/N’s breaths were heavy as she struggled to comprehend what had just happened. She couldn’t quite believe that she was safely in a room and not on the other side. 

“Are you okay?” Gi-hun asked as gunshots sounded from the other side of the door. 

“I’m okay,” Y/N said as she wiped the tears from her face. “I’m okay.”

Gi-hun’s eyes softened. “Where’s Dae-ho?”

“We were running to a room and someone pushed me down and we were separated. He forced Dae-ho into the room with him,” Y/N answered, slumping against the wall. 

Gi-hun’s eyes glanced down to where she wasn’t putting heavy pressure on her leg. Y/N tried to hide it but as she did so, a sharp pain shot up her leg causing her to wince. 

“You should keep weight off of your leg and rest,” Gi-hun said. “You don’t want to risk injuring your leg even more.”

“I’ll be fine,” Y/N said as she pushed herself from the wall before wrapping her arms around Gi-hun. “Thank you for saving me.”

Gi-hun’s arms hesitantly wrapped around Y/N. “Don’t thank me.”

“I am,” Y/N said. “Without you, I’d be dead twice over.”

Gi-hun only nodded as the doors unlocked. Y/N limped out with the assistance of Gi-hun. Her eyes scanned the area for Dae-ho. The sound of her heartbeat was the only thing she could hear as she looked over each person’s face. What if he had left his room in search of her? She thought. Although she didn’t hear his number be called out, her subconscious might have simply been blocking it out. 

Worry filled Y/N to the brim as she helplessly looked at everyone around her as members of their small group gathered together. 

“Are you okay?” Jun-hee asked while gently clutching her stomach, a slight frown on her face. “Where’s Dae-ho?”

“I don’t know I–” Y/N continued to frantically look around and couldn’t catch sight of Dae-ho anywhere. 

“Y/N,” Jung-bae said, catching her attention. “There.”

Following the direction Jung-bae was pointing in, Y/N’s eyes landed on Dae-ho in a heated argument with the same man that pushed her down to the floor. Tears sprang to Y/N’s eyes as she stepped away from Gi-hun. Sharp pain shot up her leg but she didn’t care, she didn’t seem to feel it at all as she limped closer to Dae-ho.

“She’s most likely dead because of you!” Dae-ho snapped. “Why didn’t you let me out?”

“You would have died too!” the man argued. 

“At least I would’ve been with her!” Dae-ho exclaimed, his voice teary. 

“Dae-ho!” Y/N shouted. 

Her love’s body stilled as his shoulders dropped. Y/N limped slightly closer as Dae-ho slowly turned around, disbelief in his eyes. 

“Y/N?” Dae-ho whispered, yet she heard him perfectly despite the distance between them. 

Fresh tears cascaded down Y/N’s cheeks as he began to slowly step forward before breaking out into a sprint. Before Y/N knew it, Dae-ho’s arms wrapped around her waist as he lifted her up from the floor. 

“I thought I lost you,” he muttered into her neck.

“I’m okay,” Y/N muttered, her arms tightening around his neck. “Gi-hun saved me.”

Y/N felt Dae-ho lift his head as he sent a thankful look towards the man who had saved her before burying his head back into her shoulder. 

“I was prepared to leave that room,” Dae-ho said.

“When I couldn’t find you, I was afraid that you did,” Y/N said as Dae-ho gently placed her back down on her feet. “I’m glad you didn’t.”

Y/N stared up at Dae-ho and found nothing but concern and love within his eyes. Slowly he bent down and captured his lips with hers in a sweet kiss, his hands caressing her face, wiping away the tears that once stained them. 

“Come on, you two love birds,” Jung-bae said, attempting to lighten the mood slightly as they stepped past Y/N and Dae-ho. “Y/N needs to keep weight off of that leg for a while.”

Concern flooded Dae-ho’s face. “What’s wrong with your leg?”

“Oh,” Y/N said as if remembering her injury. “When I was pushed, I landed awkwardly on my leg.”

Dae-ho looked down, his frown deepening. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“It didn’t seem too important at the time,” Y/N said. “I will be fine after some rest Dae-ho. Trust me.”

For a brief moment, Dae-ho didn’t seem too trustful of Y/N’s statement but after a quick kiss to his cheek, all disbelief seemed to evaporate as he instinctively wrapped an arm around her waist, allowing her to lean on him while she walked.

The two didn’t say anything else as they were escorted back to the main room. Dae-ho’s arm never left Y/N’s waist, not even for a second. Every single one of her senses were on overdrive, her body had yet to calm down. With each step, more pain shot up her leg and all she wanted was to sit down and relax her body. 

As their small group found themselves back in the main room, Dae-ho quickly helped Y/N to the area the group had claimed, now becoming slightly larger after the previous game. 

“Stand there for a second,” Dae-ho said as he sat down on the bed. 

Y/N stood, holding onto the bed to support herself before Dae-ho patted the space between his legs. A smile tugged at Y/N’s lips as she sat down, relaxing into his chest. 

“Are you comfortable?” He asked, wrapping his arms around her. 

“I am now,” Y/N muttered as everyone seemed to dissolve around her. 

“Is your leg fine?” Dae-ho said. 

“With some rest it should be okay,” Y/N replied. 

“Hopefully we will get enough votes to go home,” Dae-ho replied. “I don’t want to stay here any longer.”

Y/N glanced to the other side of the room. The divide between the groups was clear. On the other side of the room, people talked eagerly about the next game, theorising what it was and calculating how many from Y/N’s side would be easy to kill off. Y/N shrunk back into Dae-ho, evidently in her condition, she was an easy target, especially to the one who had pushed her down to the floor. The man’s sinister gaze didn’t leave her for a single moment as he stared at her from across the room. 

“What happens if we don’t get to go home?” Y/N questioned, her fingers lacing with Dae-ho’s. 

“Then I will make sure that you make it through, even if it kills me,” Dae-ho replied. 

Y/N frowned. “No, I will not allow that to happen. We either both get out of here or neither of us do.”

Behind her, Dae-ho’s body stilled. “Y/N…”

“No,” Y/N insisted. “No, Dae-ho. We are going to get out of here together or we will both die here together, there is no negotiating that. You are the only thing I care about in my life, I have no family, I barely see my friends anymore. If I did walk out of here without you, I would pay off our debts, and then what? I wouldn’t be happy, I wouldn’t be able to just move on. So, we will either be walking out together or not at all.”

There was no response from Dae-ho for a while, all Y/N felt was the soft caress of his thumb gliding across her knuckles and his shallow breaths. If she closed her eyes, she could imagine that they were sitting in their bedroom while the tv was playing quietly in the background. If they didn’t phone that number, that was undoubtedly what they would be doing. 

“Okay,” Dae-ho said after a while of silence. “We walk out of here together or not at all.”

A small sigh of relief left Y/N’s lips as she relaxed further into Dae-ho’s embrace. 

“But I will try my damn hardest to make sure we both get out of here alive,” Dae-ho added, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of her head. 

“I love you,” Y/N muttered, bringing Dae-ho’s hand to her lips and pressed a soft kiss to it. 

“I love you too,” Dae-ho muttered, leaning over to press a kiss to her cheek. “We’ll get out of here, Y/N. I will make sure of it.”

Despite the dire circumstances, Y/N believed him. 

[aliwritex]

Heyy!! could you make a franco x reader where they are young parents fic?

a/n: this is short but super cute. some thoughts about dad!franco

Finding out you were going to be parents at 21 wasn’t exactly the greatest thing ever. You were scared and confused at first, not knowing what to do about anything, really. And it was a while till you finally figured out what to do about it.

After you told Franco about your suspicion, you took a test and cried yourself to sleep in his arms when it came out positive. That was not what you had planned. Having just finished your studies, you wanted to start working in your area, get married and then finally start thinking about kids.

He did his best throughout your entire pregnancy, of course that landing the Alpine seat meant he was working more but he always made sure you look after you. He suggested you moved in as soon as you found out, already planing to turn the empty room in his apartment into a nursery.

Franco’s excitement made things a lot easier, he loved kids and always wanted some of his own, surely not so early but he had to take what the universe offered. He showered you with attention and he was in love with your bump. When the baby started kicking he’d lay his head on your lap and stay there for hours, feeling all the movements — then telling the baby off for hurting you.

Your baby boy was born in the summer, little Mateo looked just like him, it almost made you mad. But with a face like that it was impossible.

You were convinced that he was the easiest baby ever, completely healthy, settled into a schedule quickly, quiet and not much work at all. That was until he started walking. The boy became impossible, baby proofing the house was needed the day after he stood for the first time. Your once quiet little boy was now a cheeky smiley toddler.

“¡Boludo, te va a dar um toque!” Franco exclaimed, quickly picking up the child from the floor “Did you see that, mi amor? He was pulling the tape from the outlet” he explained popping into the bathroom where you were getting ready

“Don’t swear around him, please”

Mateo was now a little over a year old and was attending his first race. What you didn’t realize about traveling with a curious toddler was how unsafe hotel rooms are. You had managed to tape all the outlets shut but the baby boy was a little too smart for his own good.

“I didn’t swear!”

“Was that not a bad word?” he shook his head and you rolled your eyes “Right. Need to remember to bring the plugs next time, he’s too smart for the tape.”

It’s not that Franco kept you a secret, you just had a private relationship and never posted about your son. So when you walked into the paddock together with a stroller it was a surprise to many people. You tried to keep a low profile but Santi was just too happy to be there, waving and smiling at everyone. He also did not want to be locked up in his dads room while an entire world for him to explore was right outside.

“He kept calling for Papa” you explained as you walked up to the garage.

It was still Friday morning so there wasn’t much happening around, just Franco talking somethings through with his engineer. So he was free to take your son.

“Vení acá, Teo.” the child smiled, slipping his hand away from yours to run to his dad “Wanna see Papa's car?”

Your son absolutely loved everything. You could see his eyes light up in excitement when Franco showed him anything. He picked him up to show him the inside of the car, Teo was giggling as he flipped him almost upside down to look at it. He even pulled out the steering wheel and the kid was perplexed with all the buttons. You took pictures of everything, so many of them both smiling and laughing at each other.

“Right, that’s enough exploring” you took the child from his arms “someone needs a bottle and a nap or they’ll be too cranky to watch Papa drive later. See you in a bit, okay?”

Franco nodded, stealing a quick kiss on your lips before you left. He couldn’t be happier that he had his family there for him.

[ssa-danhotchner]

Happier | Aaron Hotchner x fem!reader

summary: Years after their breakup, y/n struggles with seeing Hotch move on with his new partner, Beth, while still working alongside him every day.

cw: use of y/n, past relationship, heartbreak, angst?, themes of moving on, Haley mentioned. let me know if I missed anything

wc: 1k

note: English isn't my first language so please be kind. I had the entire sour album stuck in my head. Please give me some ideas to write

The sound of laughter echoed faintly through the bullpen as the last of the team packed up for the night. You sat at your desk, staring blankly at the screen of your computer. The words of your report blurred together, the glowing monitor casting pale light over your exhausted face. You didn’t even know why you were still there; everyone else had gone home.

Everyone, except for him.

Aaron Hotchner.

It had been years since the two of you had ended things, but the wound never seemed to fully heal. Time had dulled the ache, sure, but it hadn’t erased the memories.

You could still see the way he’d smile when it was just the two of you, the way his hand would linger on yours longer than necessary, the way he whispered your name like it was the only word that mattered. Back then, it felt like you had something unshakable, something real. But life had a way of pulling people apart, and for you and Aaron, it had been no different.

It wasn’t a dramatic breakup. There were no screaming matches, no accusations hurled in the heat of the moment. It had been quiet, almost agonizingly so. You’d both known it was over before either of you said the words. The demands of his job, his grief over Haley, and the ever-present weight of being a single father—it was too much for him to bear. And you, despite loving him more than anything, hadn’t been enough to bridge the growing gap between you.

“I can’t give you what you deserve,” he’d said that night, his voice heavy with regret. “You deserve more than stolen moments and half-hearted promises.”

And that had been it.

You had cried, of course. For weeks, maybe months. But you told yourself you’d be fine, that you’d move on. You tried to convince yourself that his words weren’t true, that you could have made it work. But deep down, you knew he was right.

Still, knowing it was the right thing didn’t make it any easier.

Now, years later, you had settled into a new normal. Working alongside him every day was a constant reminder of what you’d lost, but you’d learned to compartmentalize. You had to. There was no room for personal feelings when lives were on the line.

Or at least, that was what you told yourself.

Your eyes drifted to his office, where the light was still on. Through the glass, you could see him sitting at his desk, his phone pressed to his ear. His face softened as he spoke, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

You knew who he was talking to.

Beth.

The name tasted bitter on your tongue, though you hated yourself for it. She was kind, warm, and good for him. You’d never met her formally, but you’d heard enough to know she made him happy. And wasn’t that what you wanted? For him to be happy?

But it wasn’t that simple.

Because every time you saw him with her—every time you heard him mention her in passing—it felt like someone was twisting a knife in your chest. You wanted him to be happy, but not like this. Not with her.

I hope you’re happy, but not like how you were with me.

The lyrics played on a loop in your mind, echoing your most selfish thoughts. You wanted to believe he still thought of you, that some small part of him missed what you’d shared. But the rational part of you knew better. Aaron Hotchner wasn’t the type to dwell on the past. He had moved on.

“Hey.”

His voice startled you out of your thoughts. You looked up to see him standing in front of your desk, his expression tinged with concern.

“You’re still here?” he asked, his brow furrowed.

“I could say the same to you” you replied, forcing a small smile.

He didn’t return it. “You should go home. It’s late.”

“I will” you said, though you had no intention of leaving just yet.

For a moment, neither of you spoke. The air between you felt heavy, weighed down by all the things left unsaid.

“Are you okay?” he asked finally, his dark eyes searching yours.

You hesitated. “Yeah. Just tired, I guess.”

He nodded, but you could tell he didn’t quite believe you.

“Goodnight, y/n” he said softly, his voice carrying an undercurrent of something you couldn’t quite place.

“Goodnight, Hotch”

You watched him walk away, the sound of his footsteps fading into the quiet of the bullpen.

Once he was gone, you let out a shaky breath, the weight in your chest threatening to crush you. You hated how much power he still had over you, how his presence could unravel you so completely.

Leaning back in your chair, you closed your eyes, letting the memories flood in despite the pain they brought. You thought of the nights you’d spent tangled together, whispering secrets in the dark. You thought of the way he’d kiss your forehead before leaving for work, murmuring promises to come back to you.

And you thought of the way it all ended, the way he walked out of your life without looking back.

It wasn’t fair.

You wanted to move on, to let go of the love that still clung to you like a ghost. But every time you tried, you found yourself pulled back to him, to the man who had once been your everything.

You sighed, grabbing your bag and shutting off your computer. As you walked to your car, the night air was cool against your skin, but it did little to soothe the ache in your heart.

Sitting behind the wheel, you gripped the steering wheel tightly, fighting back the tears that threatened to spill over.

“I hope you’re happy,” you whispered to the empty car, your voice cracking. “But don’t be happier.”

The words hung in the air, a quiet confession to a love you could never fully let go of.

And as you drove away, the memories of him lingered, a bittersweet reminder of the love you once had—and the happiness you’d never find again.

[lvnleah]

https://www.tumblr.com/lvnleah/771226075282997248/anyone-got-any-requests-for-steph-i-really-want?source=share

Of course! Meeting her after she broke up with her boyfriend, when she thought she doesn't want a relationship again, going to parties, until she met yn in one of those parties, (yn maybe can be a cousin from one of her teammates or not) so after they spent the night together, she tried to know who yn is, and the team is like playing detectives, only knowing Yn's name, so it's like going to Instagram, searching for her, and if you write to yn be someone teammates's cousin, that person can be like after an hour, I have a cousin with that name, so when she show her a picture, they laugh about it and of course, Steph started to follow her on Instagram.

new years twist | steph catley.

thank you for this request! :)

Steph didn’t think she wanted to go out that night. A New Year’s Eve party seemed like the last thing she needed, fresh off a breakup that had left her drained. But her teammates had insisted.

“Come on, Steph. You deserve a night to let loose,” Beth had said, practically dragging her out of her flat. “You can’t just sit in your flat, Steph. It’s New Year’s Eve. Start the year fresh.”

Steph had grumbled and muttered something about being too tired, but here she was. She nursed a drink and hovered near her teammates, pretending to be engaged in the conversation while her eyes wandered around the room.

That’s when she saw you.

You were at the bar, leaning casually against the counter, your laughter ringing out above the hum of the room. Your confidence drew her in like a magnet. She didn’t know you, but she wanted to.

“Who’s that?” Steph found herself asking Beth, who was standing beside her.

Beth followed Steph’s gaze. “No idea, but she’s cute. You should talk to her.”

Steph scoffed. “I don’t even know her.”

Beth grinned, nudging Steph’s arm. “Exactly. Go fix that.”

Steph hesitated for a moment before draining the rest of her drink. “Fine,” she muttered, heading toward the bar.

As she approached, you turned to look at her, your eyes meeting hers with an ease that made her stomach flip. “Hi,” Steph said, a little unsure of herself.

“Hi,” you replied, your lips curving into a smile. “You look like you’d rather be anywhere but here.”

Steph laughed, a little surprised at your observation. “You’re not wrong. My friends dragged me out.”

“Well, I’m glad they did. I’m Y/N,” you said.

“Steph,” she replied, shaking your hand. It was warm, and she found herself reluctant to let go. “So how come you’re here?”

“Oh, I'm with my cousin!” You smiled, “Her friends have arrived so she’s gone to see them.”

The conversation flowed naturally after that. She learned that you were visiting from out of town, and staying with family for the holidays. You told her about your job, your interests, your love for sarcastic banter—which you demonstrated by teasing Steph every chance you got. And Steph, to her surprise, loved it.

Hours passed in what felt like minutes. The countdown to midnight crept closer, and Steph didn’t want the night to end. She was caught up in your laughter, in the way your eyes sparkled when you told a story, in the way you leaned closer to her as the night went on.

“Ten seconds!” someone shouted, and the room erupted in cheers, everyone counting down together.

Steph turned to look at you. You were already looking at her, a small, knowing smile on your lips. “So, are we doing this or what?” you asked, your voice teasing but your eyes soft.

Steph didn’t hesitate. When the room shouted, “One! Happy New Year!” she leaned in, her lips capturing yours in a kiss that stole her breath. The world around her disappeared. It was just you, your hands resting on her waist, your lips moving against hers like you’d done this a hundred times before.

When you finally pulled away, Steph was speechless. You laughed softly, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “Happy New Year, Steph.”

She smiled, her heart pounding. “Happy New Year.”

Later, you both found yourselves back at Steph’s apartment. Once inside, the two of you didn’t waste any time. Kisses turned heated, hands exploring everywhere, laughter morphing into gasps and strings of moans. Steph didn’t remember the last time she felt this alive.

When she woke up the next morning, the sun streaming through the curtains, her first instinct was to reach for you. But the other side of the bed was empty. Your scent lingered on the pillow, but you were gone.

Her heart sank. She sat up, running a hand through her hair, replaying the night in her mind. Had she misread things? She shook her head, chastising herself. It was one night. Maybe that’s all it was supposed to be.

Training resumed a few days later, but Steph couldn’t stop thinking about you. She mentioned it casually to Caitlin as they stretched before practice.

“She just… left,” Steph said, frustration creeping into her voice. “I didn’t even get her number.”

Caitlin raised an eyebrow. “You didn’t ask for it?”

“I didn’t think I needed to!” Steph groaned. “I thought we’d at least talk in the morning.”

Caitlin smirked. “Well, what’s her name? Maybe we can find her.”

That caught Beth’s attention. “Wait, wait, wait. We’re finding someone? Who?”

Steph sighed, realizing she’d just made things worse. “Her name’s Y/N. That’s all I’ve got.”

Beth’s eyes lit up. “Oh, this is going to be fun. Give me ten minutes.”

What followed was the most chaotic, ridiculous investigation Steph had ever witnessed. Beth, Caitlin, and a few others scoured Instagram, typing in your name and cross-referencing profiles.

Occasionally, they’d show Steph a photo. “Is this her?” Beth would ask, holding up her phone.

“No,” Steph said for the fifth time, her patience wearing thin.

“Maybe she doesn’t have Instagram,” Caitlin suggested.

“Everyone has Instagram,” Beth countered. “We just haven’t found her yet.”

The commotion attracted Leah. “What’s going on here?”

“We’re trying to find Steph’s mystery girl,” Beth said, grinning.

Leah raised an eyebrow. “Mystery girl?”

Steph sighed. “It’s nothing. Just someone I met at the New Year’s party.”

Leah frowned, then seemed to freeze. “Wait. What’s her name?”

Steph told her, and Leah’s jaw dropped. “You’re kidding.”

“What?” Steph asked, confused.

Leah started laughing, pulling out her phone. “That’s my cousin’s name and she was with me at that party.”

The entire room erupted into laughter. “No way!” Beth said.

Leah scrolled through her phone and pulled up a photo. “This her?”

Steph’s face turned bright red. “Yeah, that’s her.”

Leah shook her head, still laughing. “I can’t believe this. You kissed my cousin?”

“It was a good kiss,” Steph muttered, which only made everyone laugh harder. “And night…”

Leah took Steph's phone before she handed it back. “Here. Just follow her on Instagram. I’ll text her and let her know to check.”

Steph hesitated for a moment before hitting the follow button. Within minutes, you followed her back, and Steph’s phone buzzed with a message.

“Small world, huh?” you wrote, followed by a winking emoji.

Steph smiled down at her phone, her heart racing. Maybe it had started as one night, but something told her it was just the beginning.

[kedsandtubesocks]

your king & lionheart

Pluto!Din Djarin x Proserpina!Reader x Marcus Acacius

summary: trouble grows & you’re in need of a personal guard, thankfully Rome’s grand general seems to be perfect - not just for you (but maybe for your husband as well)

warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY, MDNI. MAJOR GLADIATOR 2 SPOILERS, Roman Mythology AU, bodyguard themes, light creative changes in the hades/persephone myth, possibly can be read as power dynamics (god/human relationships), bi!Din Djarin & bi!Marcus Acacius, protective!Din & protective!Acacius, everyone is love sick, hurt & comfort, brief scenes of violence/threat of it, spicy themes, smut (threesome, f!oral, slight cuck vibes, moment of cock worship & cum eating), hints of soft dom!Din & sub!Acacius, M/M/F & M/M dynamics, polyamorous exploration that leads to eventual poly relationship, use of gendered language, no use of y/n

word count: 7k

a/n: I know…my first fic of 2025 & of course it’s a funky AU & poly fic lmao, thank you @perotovar for being my mythology babe and for the guidance ily erin, also shoutout to @pedgito & @hauntedhowlett for always letting me scream about my weird ass ideas & never judging me lol… and to you if you’re reading this - thanks for being here [divider credit to the ever talented @saradika-graphics]

You and your husband heard of the rumors surrounding the General who arrived into your realm.

You just never thought he would be this handsome.

General Marcus Acacius now kneels before you clad in his armor. The soldier keeps his head lowered. Strands of grey flow like rivers in his curls. You caught a glimpse of his hawkish beautiful nose, every bit stunning as your husband.

Though by his appearance General Acacius looks every bit older than you. The glorious passing of time has been kind to this man.

So many fallen soldiers just like him have passed through your gates, even some that have been slain by the Roman general himself.

But what makes this man so special, so different, is the kismet swirling around him.

He ignited a new shift among Rome, among the empire. All of your kind whisper curious about the shifting of tides. It felt as if the ground felt unsteady. It’s why you headed home to the underworld early this season.

“Your majesties.” The soldier exhales, understanding the gravity of this moment.

“General Acacius,” Din, your husband, the god of this realm, gleaming in his grand armor rises from his throne.

“You are here for a reason. Rise.” He announces.

Acacius does as told, rising from his knees, ever the noble soldier.

“I have a task for you,” Din begins.

Acacius would be assigned as your personal guard until Rome and cosmos settle.

“But you both are gods, why would you need me? A simple solider? A simple man?” Acacius now appears incredibly young, curious and confusion coloring his face.

As powerful as the gods are, they rely on the worship and prayer that give them their spirit. And with the unstable times arising in Rome, there was a fear of chaos sprouting.

Especially within the underworld, Tartarus’s flames flickered stronger, almost growing brighter. The fear of the danger and evil imprisoned breaking free worried both you and Din.

“I need you to protect my wife. ” Din declares, simple and firm.

General Acacius, if he agrees, will not be able to pass into the fields to fully rest. He will have to wait until his service finishes.

But Din adds how the reward will be grand.

Acacius blinks with a stunned opened jawed awe, seems to finally process the words.

Swallowing hard, the general nods then places his fist over his heart.

“I will serve you both.”

-

Lord Jupiter and the others call for Din more than ever. Rome’s shift of power and influence continues to steep into the world. The cosmos rock, an unsteady sea, and it feels as if something could spark at any moment.

It’s why you try even now to soak in peace. You’ve always enjoyed strolls around the edge of the rivers, among your most special places within the underworld.

Now you have company in stride beside you.

“I never expected the world of the dead would be beautiful.” Acacius admires.

Glee fills you watching Acacius wander in awe over all the sights - the stretched catacombs, the caverns of crystal, the endless rivers, and the small patch of greenery sprouting with the asphodel and pomegranate trees you’ve provided now as the queen of this realm.

General Acacius proves to be a keen mind, curious and eager to learn. He asks about the rivers, the stretches of land that blend into each other.

He reminds you of a new sprout that’s budded here among the charcoal sands and looks promising to grow.

You grin pleased, unable to contain it.

His face catches you and a flustered stammer falls over him. It paints the seasoned General beautifully boyish.

“Don’t mind me, your majesty. I must appear foolish taking this all in. It’s just the poets, the myths, they said this would be a joyless place.”

“I’m glad you get to see this world through new eyes. And you’re not foolish. I adore seeing your reactions.” You understood and tell him truthfully.

A beautiful twinkle returns to his wise older eyes.

After that the soldier becomes a cherished companion quickly, especially with Din still above ground.

Eventually you even bring Acacius to the edge of the realm, to the gates. Cerberus sensing your presence immediately shakes the land with his thunderous booms as he rushes to the gate.

All three heads excitedly press against the bars begging for attention. You laugh warmly trying to pet all three beasts best as you can.

“The hell hound guarding the gates.” Acacius mutters stunned, frightened almost, and when you glance back at him you’re surprised to see the general recoiled slightly.

He’s hesitant the way a smart soldier is sensing danger.

“Cerberus is just a big puppy.” You reassure, even turning to press a kiss to one of the big snouts.

“Says the goddess who commands him.” Acacius scoffs unconvinced.

That makes you laugh. With an eased nudge you urge the general to come forward. Seeming more curious now, he takes a few steps forward moving closer to you.

The guardian hound senses the new presence, smells the scent of a soul, and instantly growls menacing.

“Shh!” You chide the beast. “Come now. He’s a friend and protector of mine. Behave.”

The creature settles and soon enough, Acacius is at the gate by your side.

Gingerly, you raise your hand with his, guiding his larger more calloused warm hand. Then you rest it against one of the snouts of the beast.

The content grumble from the creature comes. A surprise laugh, a one bubbled up in pure surprise, escapes Acacius and it’s lovely.

He pets Cerberus in full earnest now especially with how quickly the beast jumps at the attention.

You’re reminded of yourself, the first time you took to the creature.

Yet, Acacius also reminds you of your sweet husband - a soft heart for a warrior bathed in blood.

When Din returns to his realm you wondered how the two would interact with such similar personalities.

You quickly discover they’re both similar in many ways. Both warriors are incredibly stalwart, steadfast, quiet at first, but ultimately quite tender hearted.

Your heart lifts at how immediately they bond.

Din too is a soldier, one who served during the ancient war with the old gods. At times he and Acacius seem like old veterans reminiscing of their days on the battlefield.

You’re just surprised it’s now spilled over into the courtyard.

Din, in your humble opinion, is a soldier comparable to that of Mars. He’s fluid, intelligent, capable of fighting with various forms of weapons.

But he’s met his match.

While Din trains with his spear, Acacius prefers the sword, and his proficiency in it is incredible. The blade and him dance together, keeping Din on his toes. They readily trade swipes and blows. You watch enraptured at the sight of these two powerful men fighting effortlessly with each other.

Hearing their grunts, watching their strong bodies maneuver, it all ignites a fierce dizzying passion licking flames through your body. Especially as Acacius manages to pin Din down. The older general kneeling above your husband is a sight

“Seems he’s bested you, oh terrifying ruler of the dead.” You tease, but it’s a faux cover for the burning heat in you.

Your husband, keen as ever, notices it.

Later in the sanctuary of your bed chamber, Din speaks on it first.

“You desire him.” Your husband murmurs.

Gently you glide over to your king, hand reaching up to his helm, the beautiful sleek enduring metal cool to the touch as you move to lift it.

No matter how many sun cycles pass you’ll never tire of seeing Din’s face after removing his sacred helmet.

His endless abyss eyes show no anger, if anything you spot a shimmering hesitation. For being the most terrifying dreary force of a god, Din can be quite shy at times.

“I have a feeling… you desire him as well.” You mutter as the realization solidifies in you, like pieces of a pattern suddenly collecting into place.

Why hadn’t you caught it sooner? The way Din’s helmet follows Acacius, how lively and bright his voice sounded earlier during the casual match…

Din’s eyes flicker to yours.

“Do you imagine him here? With us?” You ask delicately.

A lustful nebulous haze falls over Din’s face, clouding his eyes and making him inhale sharp.

It’s a collision of teeth, a bubbling lust swallowing you and your husband whole. After centuries together, there’s comfort and something beautifully raw about not needing to say a word. Instead - knowing the way you and him both grab at each other, the understanding lies there.

Thoughts of Acacius choke the air, an unseen fog. All the possibilities mix with Din’s touch and you get lost in the molten carnal cloud surrounding your bed chamber.

The next morning when you arrive at your garden your cheeks burn bright. You’re grateful Acacius is resting today.

So many orchids now sprout along the greenery.

“Haven’t seen these in bloom since we celebrated our reunion last moon cycle.” Din chuckles amused and you glare at your husband.

Orchids, in your mind, symbolize passion with their sexual design along with the delicate nature they take. Din’s gloved fingers tenderly caress your back.

Never in your many eons would you have ever believed both you and your husband would be yearning together over one sole soldier.

“You’re not jealous?” You softly ask under the shade of the array of orchids blooming among the dead.

“Are you?” Din recounters.

Truthful, you shake your head no.

“I was worried I would be and that you would be. But instead of jealousy it feels…it feels like…”

Like your heart has simply bloomed more petals, grown larger in its size. Your love has not dwindled or even waived for your husband. In fact it’s only deepened knowing you can be truthful and honest with Din.

It almost makes you giggle thinking both you and Din are here ogling after the same man like a couple of young sprouts.

You tell this all to Din who squeezes you in his arms tighter.

“You always know what to say, even know how I feel.” He admits.

“I suppose living with you for so long has its benefits.” You tease. You don’t even have to see his face to know he’s rolling his eyes under his helmet.

Now among the delicate orchids, your mind drifts to the soldier enjoying a day’s rest.

“Do you have a plan of attack, my queen?” Din rumbles as his helm covered face presses gently against you.

“Desire, matters of the heart, laugh at plans, my lord. You know that.” You tease squeezing his hand.

His dry chuckle is a precious reward.

Especially as your heart stumbles over a sobering truth.

Acacius could possibly not care to be desired by either you or Din.

You knew he was married. Acacius often speaks of his wife and how he hopes to visit her once he passes on from this realm into the restful fields.

“Once I pass on, I believe I will be at peace.” He nods dutifully by your side when you and him return to strolling among the rivers.

Those words cause you to pause for a moment.

“Are you not at peace now, General?” You ask curious.

“I am, my queen.” He rapidly replies fighting back a flash of panic that surged in his eyes.

You know Acacius met his fate by the hands of the precious emperors. He understands what trouble can emerge by upsetting a ruler, much less a goddess.

“Marcus,” you say his name for the first time, testing it on your tongue. You don’t miss the way his deep eyes widen.

“Please speak as freely as you want. I promise, no harm will come to you.” You vow placing a hand over your heart, the word of a ruler.

Now Acacius sighs standing among the arched hallways and columns of the underworld’s palace.

“I have found glimpses of peace here. But I know I still have much to atone for. The lives I’ve slain…I don’t deserve peace for the damage I've caused.”

Your heart suddenly collapses into your chest.

“You’re a good man, Marcus.” You tell him. “I promise your days of peace will come, and you’ll be surrounded by more love than you have ever known. It’s what a man like you deserves.”

Suddenly your hand is being lifted up, your eyes flicker to Acacius who bows his head in grace.

He raises his hand to your lips placing a polite kiss to the back of your hand.

“You are too gracious, your majesty.” Acacius mutters.

Then a skeletal guard arrives.

”Your majesty,” he interrupts with a cautious tone.

“What’s going on?” You ask.

“We are not sure…we are searching…trying to find the source.” His answer doesn’t settle any panic but instead doubles it.

Acacius shifts closer, and your eyes shoot towards him. He stands beside you the unmovable force of Rome’s sword, the heart of its military. His face is hardened, steady.

You call to him.

“Please, go with the guard. Discover what’s happening.” You urge soft.

“My lady,” he urges and the title now tugs at your heart. “I am vowed to be by your side. I need to be here, protecting you.”

“I can manage a few moments alone. I will feel safer knowing you’re out there searching.” You truthfully tell him.

Hesitation and conflict battle on the handsome older man’s face. Then with a nod Acacius follows the guards lead.

Now alone, you stay out in the open, wandering around until you find a place to sit and rest.

A strange chill crawls across your skin. The air feels different in the grand hallway. Something isn’t quite right.

“You truly are as beautiful as the myth says.” A new voice croaks.

Behind you stands a man, a stranger, specifically an unmarked shade. How had he wandered here? His eyes dance over you, curious but in a way that feels dangerous.

Especially while he moves closer to you with a hand outstretched.

Before you can say anything, a sword shines from the darkness of the hallway. Acacius emerges smoothly out from across you keeping his blade to the spirit’s throat.

“You dare touch her, and I will show you another death.” He mutters low, deadly and powerful.

The spirit with terror in his eyes does as told, returns to where he needs to be. But the dread remains even clutching onto the general’s arm.

The goddess of the crossroads, Trivia, among her magic and grandeur wearing the face of the crone, warns you to be careful. Acacius stays stitched to your side more than ever.

“The surface world, Rome particularly, continues to eat at itself like a chained animal.” Her voices, three as one, alluded to what you can even sense here.

It’s why your eyes can’t help but watch the flames of Tartarus. Instead of its steady small amber flame, it now seems to flicker rapidly, like a furious candle that wishes to spread its wildfire. Who knows what dread would come of the prison’s chains unleash.

Then, late in the night, alone in your bedchamber, a whisper wakes you with the soft call of your name.

Immediately you glance around your large empty bedroom with Din still above ground.

But from your open window, the flame of Tartarus spills over a glow that is not a warm amber but a blazing pure blood red.

Danger.

You hastily grab your cloak and rush out.

Your mind races and you have no time to think of anything else but getting to the prison. Acacius would not be able to step foot near this space so you do not even try searching for him.

The flaming river thrashes violently, like a flood about to spill over. It shakes the ground you stand on causing you to fall.

“Little goddess!” So many voices, tormented and distorted, screech. They cry out from the depths of the prison.

“The time of your rule is coming to an end….Feed us your blood!” They howl against the raging fire.

The rumble of the hydra follows. Its many heads still do not scream but as you glance past the gate that stands looming, the iron seems to rattle. The adamantine will not shatter you know this. But fear claws at your heart.

Beyond the gates sits the primordial darkness, teeming with the treat that it can swallow you whole. You swear someone, something, smiles something sinister from it, taunting you.

This is still your realm. You’re still queen of this world, born to be a part of the rebirth.

Fighting against the fear, you steady yourself.

Snapping your fingers, you smile wide and victorious to the darkness.

An anguished and sinister howl rattles the air causing the pathway to shift unstable. The river rages. Even the hydra rumbles more, with some of its heads peering awake. Whatever aches to leave will know a harsher pain for this transgression.

Then, someone simply lifts you up off the ground, as if you are a feather.

“My lady!” General Acacius screams and the roar of Cerberus can be heard faintly. Even with your eyes stinging from the heat, you catch how his body fades in and out as if transparent. He shouldn’t be here.

You whisper out his name while he rushes out of the prison with you in his arms.

On the floor of the palace exhaustion pummels your body, Acacius barks for healers.

“Are you hurt?” You ask him worried now and his face turns to you concerned. Soot and scratches cover his body. But you’re thankful he’s here still and not consumed by the prison’s void.

“No, dear lady, they are for you.”

Finally glance down, the sight frightens you.

The skin of your hands cracks, shed open, revealing the decay and cosmic abyss of the underworld’s power manifesting within you now. It spills from your skin, stinging. You had never tapped into your abilities this much…

Exhaustion swallows your vision immediately after. But before it does you swear you feel two sets of warm hands moving to steady you.

Two voices scream your name.

-

“I was scared I wouldn’t make it .” Din whispers, holding you in his arms. It feels as if you haven’t left them for days.

“I’m alright.” You reassure your husband, rubbing his warm sturdy chest. “Acacius saved me.”

He had… more than you realized.

Trivia, once she examined your wounds. With wide multiple eyes, revealed how it had been foolish to use your powers so close to the primordial prison, to the old gods and ancient ones. It was like trying to fight fire with fire.

“It amplified your abilities to a point of instability.” She explained. “Any moment there longer, who knows what could have happened to you.”

Marcus Acacius truly came like the guardian he is and saved you.

“He’s a spirit, how did he even manage to survive?” You ask, still stunned and impressed.

“He holds a strong heart and pure soul.” The goddess of magic answers.

“I owe him a great debt.” Din had said and you believe you did as well.

So you call Acacius to your side in your bedchamber.

His molten eyes hold a multitude of emotions. He does not conceal their shine.

“My queen, forgive me-” His voice cracks and you shake your head, interrupting him.

“No, I’m the one who needs your forgiveness.” You whisper.

You and Din cannot see him as a simple tool to keep at your aid.

General Acacius deserves to find peace, a life away from service and duty. The panic you had of knowing how close he was to Tartarus felt too much. Even when you told Din that he understood.

Your hand cups the general’s cheek. Shimmering gemstone eyes soften, and his mouth drops slightly agape.

Your thumb traces against the scruff of his beard.

“You really are a rare soul.” You tell him already detesting your voice for cracking under the weight of your emotions.

His larger hand rises up to rest on top of yours.

“Tell me, what is troubling you.” He urges, squeezing your hand.

You shake your head. You need not bother him anymore.

Closing your eyes to rest some more, you realize Acacius keeps your hand in his warm firm grasp the entire time.

More nights are spent in the comfort of bed rest.

Trivia once again visits, keeping you company, this time wearing the face of the maiden.

“It seems your two warriors are getting along quite well.” She comments casually, and you curiously sit up.

Your eyes narrow, curious and suspicious at her words. Her ancient eyes, all knowing, stay focused on her scroll.

“I’ve just… seen how close the two have become. I’ve heard that when they are not here with you, they rarely separate from each other.”

That releases a flutter into your chest.

With a kiss goodbye to Din who returns above ground with the goddess of the crossroads, Marcus Acacius is again by your side.

“I’m glad you and Din get along well.” You admit.

The small tug of a smile flickers across the General’s gorgeously aged face.

“The king of the underworld has become a fast… companion.”

You know he means the term towards friendship, but the greed in your heart gnaws thinking of them as something far richer in terms of companionship.

“He loves you.” Acacius adds through a thick voice. “You two love each other. I thought after all the stories I had heard…”

You knew what the stories painted you as, what it told of you and your husband. Even now your fingers seem to inch for pomegranate seeds.

“The myths sometimes get twisted and lost with the ages.” You truthfully tell Acacius.

“I understand now.” He mutters. “It’s a type of devotion some only believe exists in stories. But I’ve seen it… see it so clearly, even without having to see his face.”

Even though love surges every inch of your being, you find a sense of longing and ache tinge his voice.

“You miss your wife.” You state low.

The general sighs, his eyes hazing over.

“At times yes. But…” he pauses, gathering himself and you find his eyes still haven’t met yours.

“I knew our arrangement, our marriage, wasn’t her first. But I was glad to provide, grew to love her. And I like to believe she too loved me in a way. But then…”

Molten earth eyes finally flicker up to yours.

You wait, expecting him to continue. Instead the general’s eyes stay taking you in, like a hesitation stops from him speaking.

Realization settles in soft, effortless, a reminder that even though this man appears decades older than you and even Din, he is still such a young soul compared to you.

He’s jealous.

Jealous of the relationship you and Din have.

Sympathy rises fast. You do understand, truly.

“I haven’t seen Din bind himself to someone as fast as he has with you.” You suddenly speak first.

“It almost has me a bit jealous.” You add lightly teasing. Fright flashes across the general’s face and you quickly grab his hand to hold.

“But I’m not.” Truth hums in you, you hear it in your voice.

“It’s a blessing to find another companion, one that he and I both deeply adore. Makes me grateful to know we haven’t become stagnant in our time down here.” You admit with a soft self deprecating grin.

“It will be hard to see you pass on from our halls.” That truth manages to slip past you.

Acacius squeezes your hand.

“My lady…” the exhale he breathes sounds uncertain, heartbreakingly vulnerable.

This time you raise his hand to your lips, pressing a grateful kiss to his palm in reverence at the man who’s brought new light into your realm.

Something shifts after that, a planetary orbit falling into place.

When you’re finally allowed to return to your garden, both your king and general stay firmly beside you.

Peace and tranquility mix within the air and you're grateful to finally be among your elements. The red roses, which you greatly liken to Din, now have new companions of their own.

White rose buds slowly make their way through the greenery, sprouting steady and true.

A disbelieved laugh almost escapes you.

If Din is your red rose, your heart sees Acacius as a white one.

Suddenly a guard humbly interrupts the gathering, announcing the lord of the palace is needed.

Din sighs, weary and exhausted, as he rises to leave. Before he does, the god of the dead rests his forehead against yours, a type of kiss you’ve recognized for eons.

And then, Din’s gloved finger tips gingerly trace along the general’s jaw.

You’re surprised at such a casual show of affection and even poor Acacius sits stunned. Din, who luckily had his face hidden under the helm, now takes his leave.

Acacius sitting a bit stunned flickers his shocked eyes to you.

“Sweet surprise suits you well, General.” You tease.

Now a rather grumpy hardened look of a soldier falls over his face, and laughter overtakes you at his reaction.

But the joy extinguishes quickly. Din returns back to the garden, this time with more guards accompanying him.

From the tense stillness of his shoulders, the way his helmet stares unflinching at you, worry settles into your heart immediately.

-

Marcus Acacius is a man battle tested. He believes in the law, in the rational of the mind. He favored the tangible over the thought of mythical gods. Yet now that he lives among their realm, walks beside them, Marcus feels more human than ever.

He had witnessed the sight of the rulers of the dead when he first arrived.

But now he watches with new eyes.

He drinks you in.

The legends speaking of your beauty are true. You sit on the throne beside your husband the picture of a composed queen, a goddess created of both life and death.

And then your husband, clad in the sacred steel of the underworld and the unflinching helmet he wore - the two of you were a marvel of a pair.

Acacius feels out of place, a simple observer and passerby.

Then his soul leaves his body when the guards bring in the soul in question for judgment.

Emperor Geta, the watchful creature he is, whips his head all around with a grimace on his face. Then the young emperor’s eyes spot him and Acacius stiffens.

“You.” He sneers. “What are you doing here? How are you here?”

Geta then snaps his attention to the two rulers. “He is but a simple soldier! I am the ruler of Rome, the vessel for the gods. Why is he not the one on trial?”

“When you die, you are but a simple man. And you will be judged as such.” Lord Din says simply, unmoved by the frustrated loud tone of emperor Geta.

“Because you were being unreasonable with the judges, now you stand before us.” You further explain.

Geta, like a petulant child, continues to demand and scream.

“You act so high and mighty for a man brought down by his brother.” That’s when you step in again, a softer reply cutting sharp through Geta’s voice.

Acacius wonders if a mythical lust driven creature has crawled under his skin. Because witnessing you, in the most luminous crown, sitting unbothered as you stare down the once emperors, you’re truly the goddess he wishes to sink to his knees for.

Geta narrows his eyes, a defiant act of a man raised to rule Rome and never accept any opposition from anyone.

Not even a god.

“You two,” he spits.

“Locked away in this dreary world of death. Neither of you know anything! You do not know the trials and tribulations I have faced! I am Rome! Rome is me! I understand it better than anyone!” He screams now.

Thorny vines sprout out from the marble floors wrapping around Geta and drag him to the floor onto his knees.

Acacius quickly finds your hand outstretched while you stare down at the emperor. Din walks down from his throne, staff in hand, and points it to Geta’s throat.

“You will be wise to remember who you speak to, boy.”

You and Din speak together, one unified front, and the general of Rome thinks never in his life has he ever gotten so aroused so fast in his life.

Geta fidgets against the thorns, defiant even in this forced submission.

The young emperor’s eyes flash to Acacius.

“This is your fault!” He screeches wild and frothing, eyes absolutely feral. “Acacius! I damn you! I damn your soul! You are to blame!”

Guilt, like a bull, barrels into him. Acacius knows these words are just the ragging of a foolish man, but Marcus only thinks of the chaos born because of him.

The countless soldiers he’s lost, the endless villages destroyed by his hand…

There’s blood unwashable and stained into his very hands. Even his final moments of trying to save Rome, to do something other than conquer and destroy…

Marcus brought bedlam.

“You’re nothing compared to that man.” The god of the underworld snarls, breaking through the sinking guilt. It ushers in a wave fondness that cuts through Acacius.

“You were once such a brave, good hearted young man. Cared so deeply for your brother. But corruption has poisoned your heart, Geta.” Your voice is hardened with a wise unflinching observation.

A reminder to him that you’re truly a being born from the stars themselves.

“You lived a decadent life while others suffered. Their suffering is finally here to greet you.” Din announces.

The thorns wither away from Geta and before he can react, two skeletal guards emerge, yanking the young emperor away.

To no one’s shock, he screams raging the entire time refusing to go down without a fight.

“Acacius!” The still screams. “This is your fault! You deserve death! A fate even worse than that! I damn you! Curse your soul!”

Geta’s screeches bounce off the walls, lingering long after he’s vanished.

Acacius feels his vision go hazy, fighting so many emotions that cloud him. Then hands steady him, pulling Marcus from his thoughts.

Both you and King Din surrounded him, concerned and close.

“Are you alright?” The king asks.

Acacius stays quiet.

“That childish fool, don’t listen to him.” You urge.

“Geta is right.” Marcus mutters.

He’s been the source of unspeakable damage, causing countless waves of pain. The lord and lady of the underworld deserve someone more honorable -

“You’re honorable.” You immediately cut him off, determined and unwavering.

Not realizing he spoke those thoughts aloud, embarrassment rises to his cheeks feeling rather young and foolish among these two.

“There was a reason why you were chosen.” The king adds soft. “And we would make that choice again.”

Acacius knows it’s strange but not uncommon to desire two people at once. He knew of a fellow commander who swore he loved both his wife and a fellow soldier equally. It is possible. The heart is a strange weapon after all.

Marcus just never thought his heart would be entangled in such a web.

But when his eyes finally glance to yours, he stills. He adores your eyes, always so expressive with waves of emotion.

That’s when he catches your gaze flicker down to his lips, the most subtle action reawakening a raw hunger in his chest.

He leans in, until truth freezes him solid.

You’re married. You’re a queen and goddess of this land.

He can never…

Immediately Marcus draws his face away, ready to flee from this warmth surrounding him. Until the king shifts to press against him firmer.

“Do you wish to keep your queen waiting?” The king’s voice, even speaking through the helmet, is a low deep purr, sending a chill up Acscius’s spine.

“Din.” You quickly chide, panicked under your breath. “Don’t pressure him. If Acacius doesn’t want this-”

Marcus doesn’t need to hear another word, won’t let his thoughts hold him back. He reacts like a soldier, moving into the battlefield possessed by this goddess, by you.

So he takes and plunders.

Your lips are soft, unbelievably sweet, the true taste of ambrosia Acacius might not ever return back from.

Especially when you whine into his lips as your hands run into his curls.

Acacius drowns in you. But when he returns for air, he realizes there’s another present, another he maybe even longs to kiss, to know his face.

The god of the dead stands close, moves to slide his own hand across Marcus’s cheek and the General closes his eyes when he feels the press of cold metal against his forehead.

It feels as if they floated to the bedchamber.

“Lay her on the bed.” The king commands effortlessly.

Watching the god slink to sit on the plush chair in the room, spreading his legs open wide, is erotic, more than Acacius could have ever expected.

Din commands him, soft but firm, on how to tease and taste you.

Acacius finds having a powerful god, the striking king of this world, take command, affects him greatly. Letting himself go, not having to think or worry, has Marcus rutting his hips into the bed, drunk on both rulers who seem to engulf him.

When you come on his tongue, fingers gripping into his hair, Marcus wonders if this is what the nectar of the gods must taste like, what a blessing this is.

You draw his face up to you, messily kissing and licking into his mouth.

As you start kissing down his neck, Acacius looks over to Din in his chair. The general almost comes seeing the king stroking his cock.

“We shouldn’t neglect our king.” Your breath tickles Marcus’s neck as you whisper and nip at his skin. A blazing heat grows hotter within Acacius.

But then, with one final kiss to his shoulder, your warmth leaves slinking off the plush bed.

Quickly you make work of undressing Din and Acacius again feels as if he’s intruding again even with how painful his cock feels watching you, bare and naked, against the fully armored ruler.

“I can do the rest.” Din replies through a hoarse voice stopping you.

With an understanding nod you return back to Marcus and his eyes watch you drop to your knees, immediately kissing up his thighs.

He’s so close, torn between release and wanting this to last. Until you rise up to his face again, placing the softest kiss to his lips.

“Do you trust us, my general?” You ask softly as his hinds run up and down your soft skin.

“Yes,” Marcus exhales. nodding wanting to hear you call him that for as long as you can.

Someone snaps their fingers. The candle light goes out and Acacius is thrown into a pit of pure desire.

Solid larger and firmer hand grabs at his face clashing their lips into his fiercely.

Din. Acacius is kissing the king.

The lord of the underworld kisses without hesitation, a man unchained. Yet Marcus discovers Din whispers gentle and follows his lead, such a beautiful flip of the once powerful commanding force now chasing after his lips.

An intoxicated sense of power surges in Acacius, a type of possessiveness he feels when conquering a battle. His hands map out the king’s face and he’s glorious.

Marcus has never felt more desired, more wanton, then right now. Being plunged into the dark, relying simply on his instincts, beautifully heightens the passion he’s in.

It’s a clumsy scramble, Din falling onto the mattress and Marcus slotting against him above.

You lick up his back as Marcus grinds his cock against your husband’s. Acacius knows he will not last long. For a man his age, he’s even surprised he’s held off this long.

“Let go for us, Marcus.” You coo, almost begging and he’s groaning out painful and loud.

Din moans, drunk and pleased as his hands grip tight into Marcus’s thighs.

Acacius cums harder than he ever has in his life. His vision goes white, and his body melts into a blur until your warm arms steady him in your embrace.

Marcus even thinks he’s never spilled this much before. Embarrassment clogs his throat as he feels the cum leak across his thighs and even pooling onto Din.

Among the embarrassment, a heavy exhaustion creeps into him. Until Acacius feels the warmth of your body leaving him.

The bed shifts suddenly, and your tongue licks across his cock and Din’s. Feeling your tongue wet and slick on his cock makes his eyes roll back. Both him and Din groan when the slurping sounds fill the room and Acacius realizes you’re trying to consume their seed, lick up as much as you can.

It’s like a storm sent from Jupiter himself galvanizes Acacius. His soul comes alive more than ever and he lets the darkness drenched ecstasy swallow him happily.

-

“You know his time here is limited.” Din mutters.

Acacius protectively rests between you and Din, tangled warm and sound asleep.

The underworld’s gemstones soft glows shimmer into the room, the underworld's own stars embedded in the darkness, illuminating the room. You’re able to soak in the sight of his glorious man alongside your gorgeous husband.

You understand the gravity of Din’s words.

Marcus deserves the peace he seeks, the freedom and rank to go anywhere he pleases. When the general passes on to the fields where souls go to rest, you know he will never be able to return to the palace.

So your mind wanders, trying to accept this time with Acacius simply might be like a shooting star, brilliant and bright but short.

You suppose that’s what makes human souls so precious.

In the warmth of the baths, resting within Acacius’s arms you try to return to the bliss here to keep away the dread.

The chaos within Rome is settling, even Tartarus now burns a soft faint candle. You know what this means. Marcus and his protection might not be needed anymore.

Your general in recent days has stayed rather quiet, closed and reserved. His fingers endlessly and thoughtlessly run up and down your arm resting on the edge of the bath.

“Something bothering you, Marcus?” You ask hesitantly shifting in his arms.

Expecting to turn to look at him, Acacius instead draws his arms around you, firmly securing you into his embrace. He rests his head against your shoulder.

Acacius exhales, sounding as ancient and weary as your husband does at times.

“It feels as if I’m being torn apart.” The general suddenly sighs again into your skin. “Stuck between two worlds.”

A moment passes.

“How do you do it? Decide between two worlds?”

You’re a bit curious at his question, almost don’t understand at once but the truth settles in smoothly.

How can you pick between the world above and below.

“I don’t need to.” You softly tell him, rubbing your hand against his arm.

That’s when the solution arrives.

Marcus does not need to decide either.

When you relay your epiphany to Din, even under the helmet you know he is beaming, you hear it in his words.

“This is why you’re the wisest, my queen.”

You scoff playful but laugh when Din squeezes you into his arms.

The solution you’ve thought of course brings a wave of buoyancy and glimmering hope. But you and Din understand the choice that lies ahead.

Acacius might decide to pass on. It will be hard to let him go but you and Din will of course support that choice.

The bowl in your hand is familiar. The pomegranate seeds glisten in their bright ruby color. They might be a little too on the nose but they were in season, and they’ve become your favorite.

Acacius, ever the aware soldier, understands something is afoot when you and Din arrive to sit with him in the bedchamber.

“As promised, you’ll be paid handsomely for your service.” Din begins.

“Oh.” Acacius’ face falls. Immediately you sense the shift in him.

“We know how much you long for peace, to rest.” You suddenly jump to reach to lay a hand on top of his.

“We simply just want you to know the choice is yours.” Din adds quietly.

Now the handsome scruffed up confused look colors the older distinguished general.

You set the bowl that was on your lap onto the table and lightly push it towards Marcus. His brows furrow harder, more inquisitive.

“Your reward.” Din explains.

To eat from the food of the underworld binds oneself to this realm.

It means he didn’t have to pick. He could travel between the fields and palace whenever he pleases.

“You can visit your loved ones all you’d like, and maybe think of us from time to time.” You grin soft. “Marcus, you deserve to have everything you want.”

His beautiful gem eyes, dark as a precious stone, flicker between you and Din, as if waiting for a trick to follow your words.

No tricks.

Only the reward he deserves.

“I…don’t believe I do. This is too great a treasure.” He shakes his head.

“You have proven yourself.” Din replies steady. “The gods do not bless those who they do not deem worthy.”

With a final look between you and your husband, a brief pause falls over Acacius.

Fear and a gloom filled sadness creep in when Marcus does not make a move for the bowl.

Instead, General Acacius scoops up a handful of pomegranate seeds and devours them.

The ruby red color has never looked so glorious staining his fingertips, never tasted sweeter than on his lips and on your husband’s.

Later when you visit your garden, floating on a beautiful tranquility, red and white roses greet you in full bloomed grandeur.

Among them, new buds sprout…

Beautiful pink rose buds, a soft blush shade, the perfect united bled and reminder of the rosy days to come.

[cillianmurphysdimples]

A female Y/N / Cillian fanfic. (Part Thirteen)

Absolutely not based on anything real at all, all totally fictional, fanciful and all total bollocks.

Warnings for sexual references and language. Adult themes. Not suitable for under 18s.

We Got Issues

Part Thirteen: Cillian's sons spend the evening with them, with a takeaway, and Y/N can see he loves their presence. But when their plans to have 'the talk' are thwarted, Y/N gets confirmation from Cillian that the love is there, their relationship is enduring, but that he knows they have issues to discuss. [Fluff/Comfortable - no sexual scenes but some sexual language]

@remembering-angels @dragonsneversharetheirtreasure @aesthetic0cherryblossom @meister95 @vivianleighwishesshewasme @meadowshelby @lavender-haze-01 @strangeions

“Ah, shut up!” Aran sticks up for himself as Malachy makes yet another joking dig, and you can see Cillian's face as he tries not to laugh. The rarely used dining table is awash with cardboard boxes, half finished pizzas, and the greasy but somewhat addictive smell of takeout fries that always taste better than homemade food. You lean back into your chair, holding your glass of Coke, and splutter a laugh over the mouthful you attempt to sip from it when Aran follows up his moan with a skillfully hidden middle finger directed towards his brother, that Cillian failed to catch, and Aran is grinning as he looks across at you when you laugh. You wink at him with a smile over your shared secret.

It falls quiet for a moment, but for the music coming from Cillian's Spotify playlist pulled up on the TV, and it's in that quiet moment that Malachy switches from their playfulness into something a little more serious. “You're flying back over to England in the morning, Dad?” He asks.

Cillian is sitting with his elbows on the table and his chin resting in the palm of his right hand. He's been fiddling his fingers in and around his mouth for a while - it's often a mindless sort of idiosyncratic quirk, but there are times you've watched him soothe himself this way when anxiety is high. He straightens a little and drops his arm down. He's wearing his glasses and he looks a mixture of blissfully happy at the family chaos and utterly exhausted by life in general. You are both a little hungover - and you'd finally gotten from him that morning the extent of his and Enda's additional drinks! - and you can tell he's still feeling it compared to you feeling better. “Eh, evening flight.” He answers and there's a smile that forms that is sweet. “I've a week or so then I'll come back for a few days, and then I'll be there until, um, a week before Christmas. And youse are welcome to stay when I'm back, you know that. Sure youse can stay here if I'm not, it's your house too.” he says with conviction and Malachy nods his head. Right then, you can't tell if the young lad is melancholic or just not particularly expressionistic. “I'll ring your Mum myself, but did youse mention Christmas to her at all?” He asks.

Aran nods, finishing a mouthful of pizza before he replies, wiping the side of his mouth as he speaks. “She said it's up to us.” He shrugged his shoulders.

“I don't want to not see either of you for Christmas.” Malachy says, and you decide, by the tone of his voice, that he is fairly melancholic. “If we stayed with Mum, though, you'd come over or something?”

“I would, of course,” Cillian nods and he's frowning earnestly behind the specs. “I'll be here, like, and we can see one another whenever youse want. If you want to stay with your Mum, then do, it's fine. We can pick another day, and cook here or get a table somewhere. Honestly boys, it's fine. Same as last year.” He's reassuring them, you know, but you can see that same battle in Cillian that you know for sure the boys are having - their own feelings versus everyone else's.

“There's plenty of time off school and work ahead, you'll be able to come and go as you please,” you say quietly, and Malachy gives you a genuine smile, even if it is small, that you take as a thankful acceptance of your words. There's a quiet that falls again and you awkwardly look from one Murphy man to the other. Cillian's playlist seems to fall silent for a minute too, but when it restarts, it seems much louder. It booms the folky guitars of Lemon 7s by ‘A Lazarus Soul’, and you can see Cillian slowly and silently mouthing along.

“There's a video of you being passed around, Dad.” Aran speaks up and you know it's going to both amuse and disinterest Cillian to learn about it.

“Is there, yeah?” He raises his eyebrows and brings his glass to his lips. As he draws it back, he licks his lips and nods in Aran's direction. “G’on, what is it?” He humours his son.

“Ah nothing strange, just from last night, saying about us studying the book. Obviously it's way before you got locked.” Aran says offhandedly, and Malachy laughs at the declaration.

Cillian smirks and shakes his head. “I was not locked.” He weakly defends himself, but laughs a little when he looks up at both boys who are both making faces either at him or pretending to be ridiculously drunk. Malachy had picked up on his Dad's obvious delicate temperament the moment he'd got into the car when Cillian had picked them up, according to both boys, and had been slagging him on it ever since. Aran just found the idea that his Dad was hanging to be delightfully amusing.

“Even Y/N agrees,” Malachy continues his slagging, and gestures across at you. “Was he pissed last night?”

You chuckle as they all turn to you, and Cillian's subtle wink is amusing and also a sign that you're fine to slag as much as you like and he'll not get arsey over it. “Out of his mind,” you tease with a laugh. “Nah,” you say, “I mean he wasn't sober or anything, but there wasn't any falling asleep at the island with his shoes as a pillow.”

Malachy's eyebrows rise up and Aran's head whips to his Dad with gleeful expectation at your breadcrumbs for a story. “When was that?” Malachy laughs loudly.

“Easter last year,” you laugh. “We went to a birthday thing for a friend in Balbriggan, I think.” You smile as you look at Cillian, and you're glad he's smiling. “He learned his limit on the beer that night, and for three days after.” You laugh. He had been in a bit of a state the days after this particular party. While he had a drink or two fairly often, it was rare when he let the alcohol be the guide, so times like this one, while good for slagging and remembering, weren't anything you'd ever use as a resentment or a punishment.

“Oh! I remember, we came for dinner the next day.” Malachy laughs and points his finger towards his Dad playfully. “Y/N picked us up, she said you weren't feeling too good but you wanted us here for dinner still. Whole time we were here you were on the sofa there.”

Aran looks at you, then his Dad. “That when you were being sick upstairs when we got in the door?” Aran asks, laughing, and Cillian gives them the embarrassed reaction they want by covering his face with his hands, but as he drops his hands back down, he's laughing at the jibes. “You need a downstairs toilet.” He laughs.

“That's the one,” you say. “I don't think you went near any food for two days.” you laugh, and reach out your hand across the table and pat his hand. As your hand lifts off his, he turns his palm over and lovingly captures your fingers, holding you there.

“Laugh now,” he says and looks at his boys in turn, “When youse are out with your friends and coming rolling back home to your Mum, you'll be on your arses the next day yourselves. And, sure I'll laugh!” He says lightly, chuckling. He rubs his thumb back and forth slowly across your fingers in his hand. “You all done, or still eating?” He asks, and he releases your hand as he stands up. He pushes his chair back with his legs and starts collecting together the empty containers on the table.

Both boys begin pushing away half finished food and empty boxes, sliding them towards their Dad. You get to your feet and help with the clearing away, “No, stay there,” you say as Aran goes to stand up and help with the cleaning. “Finish your drink.” You smile.

“Ah, give over, the two of you get up there now and help,” Cillian says with amusement. “It's your home, you help with the jobs. C’mon. Mal, will you bring the empty glasses into the sink there? And eh, Aran, grab a dishcloth in the kitchen and give that table a wipe.” He says, piling the pizza boxes and containers into a neat stack. He's light hearted, but he is keen, as he always has been, that the boys are helpful around the house when they're here. Not that he'd have them scrubbing or anything, but it isn't the first time at all that he's had them clear up after dinner. “I'll throw these out in the outside bin,” he says, glancing at you. As he takes the tower into his arms, he peers around to see where the lads are, and leans towards you for a gentle kiss. You smile as he steps back again, “Dessert.” He says, cheesy and tacky and smiling like an idiot. You can't help smiling back, then you shake your head as you watch him head toward the front door to leave the containers into the recycling bin.

“Thanks, you two,” you say, entering the kitchen, where you find both boys loitering after finishing the tasks Cillian had set for them. “Slave driver, your Dad.” you joke and Malachy offers a smirk but you suspect it to be one of pity. “School tomorrow?” You ask, looking between the boys. Aran was approaching his leaving cert and Malachy was in a college you didn't know too much about.

“Study day tomorrow,” Malachy replies, and pulls his phone from his pocket. “If Dad isn't leaving early then tomorrow, can I stay here tonight?” At the age his was, Cillian did expect to see a little less of Malachy these days even if it hurt him, so hearing that he actually wanted to spend the night was a surprise.

You raise your eyebrows. It's been a long time since Malachy stayed over. You don't want to tell him no, but your stomach drops at the suggestion for one reason - that morning you and Cillian had agreed that you'd sit and talk this evening, and you were desperate to get it done. But turning Malachy away was the last thing you'd do, and you push a smile to your lips. “Yeah, I don't mind. I'm sure your Dad'll be happy.” You say, “You can stay too, Aran. I can always drive around and collect your things for school tomorrow from your mother, and Cill will drive you in the morning." Like summoning the devil, Cillian arrives in the kitchen, pushing up the sleeves of his thick jumper, and looks at you all in turn. “Cill, Malachy wants to stay,” you say, your eyes following him as he walks to the sink to wash his hands.

With his back to you all, he turns his head over his shoulder to his eldest son. “Grand, yeah, stay,” he smiles at him. “Sure I can drop you home before I leave tomorrow, or earlier if you want.”

“And you'll take Aran to school in the morning if he stays too, yeah?” You ask. Disappointed that your conversation is now on hold, you replace the feeling with the joy of the boys staying over for the first time in a long time, and the wonderful mood that you know it'll put Cillian in.

“I will, yeah,” Cillian says, turning off the tap. He turns around, drying his hands on the dish towel, and looks at Aran. “Do you want to stay or go home?” He asks, noticing he's a little quiet.

Aran shakes his head, “I'll go,” he says quietly. “I didn't finish some homework,”

“I can go out to your mother's and pick your things up.” You repeat your earlier offer.

Aran shakes his head again. Cillian reaches out and claps his hand onto Aran's back, “No bother, it's grand. Sure whenever you're ready I'll bring you home. You want to go now?” He asks and you can see a little bit of preempted separational upset creeping into his expression. Aran nods his head, indicating he's put up his walls and it's ready to return to his mum. Your anxiety questions whether it's something you've said or done that's suddenly seen Aran close up, but you can't think what. Cillian nods his head slowly. “Okay so,” he says quietly. “Let me get my runners on and I'll drop you home.”

By eleven pm, you and Cillian are curled together in bed, with the just audible sound of the TV in Malachy's room carrying through the upstairs. You lie with your head on his chest, in the region of his heart, and his arm is wrapped around the back of your shoulders to pull you in closer. His free hand is up on the pillow beside him with his fingers moving back and forth through his short hair. You keep your palm flat on his pyjama covered chest, but move your fingers a little, caressing against him gently. It's quiet and comfortable, and you're both exhausted, but you don't feel able to turn away and fall asleep.

“Sorry we didn't get to talk this evening,” Cillian says quietly, his voice a husky whisper.

You shrug your shoulders a little, “It's alright, Malachy being here is a good excuse to hold off.” You say, and consider that it is perhaps the only reason you two wouldn't talk tonight, knowing it was important.

“I didn't want to say no, it's rare he's about these days,” he continues and you agree fully. "And he's been gas craic there this evening, can't get over him and Aran growing up so fucking fast."

You hum softly at his sentimentality, and move your fingers softly against his chest again. “No, it's okay, I completely understand. We can talk another time.” You say with a soft sigh.

“It's important.” He says and you're glad he feels that way. “You were right with what you said yesterday, we need to talk about it all.” Despite wanting him on board this much, you also allow your anxieties to win as you wonder why he's so eager. What could he possibly have to say now? “Sure it's not like it's a discussion on splitting up, or that we don't love one another, fuck sake,” he says, “But I know it's a discussion that we both need to have and get united on.” You admire his confidence, and you sincerely hope that this is the case - reaching a point when you and Cillian feel the need to separate was a daunting idea - and you're so glad he understands that this needs to be aired and done properly. His arm tightens around you, pulling you closer in against the left side of his body. He smirks into the darkness of the bedroom but you can hear the small breathy laugh that accompanies it.

“What?” You whisper.

“Just after getting a flashback of last night,” be says and you can hear by how his words form that he's still smiling.

“Which part?” You ask, though you're sure you know well. You tap your hand against his chest where it rests and he laughs a little more. “Could it be the part where you couldn't get your fucking shoes off, or are you being filthy minded?”

He laughs again and it vibrates against your ear pressed to his chest. “I think that's one for the memory bank.”

“The wank bank you mean!” You tease. “If you pull yourself off in a hotel to me, spread-eagle on our sofa, I'll die of embarrassment!”

“Sure I'm away a long while sometimes,” he says, once again tightening his arm around you. “Can't expect me to walk around with the horn.” You laugh a little too loudly, and he shushes you even as he laughs too. He sighs as you both settle and you feel a wave of sadness that once again, tomorrow he'll be gone.

[zombvibes]

I am VERY VERY thankful for all of the support when it comes to teammateswap (and my other aus too i guess 🙄 (kidding)), but I sometimes worry about how people will feel once I reveal everything I have rattling around in my brain. I don’t even know if people will still like it. BUT THEN I remember the game teammateswap is an au of is LITERALLY unfinished and I chillax a little LOL

There’s a lot of ideas swirling around in my brain that I think wants out…and I hope you enjoy it when it eventually does

[starrysharks]

winter assassin outfit

[jrueships]

r u the grew up poor never being able to buy the little things in life u always wanted as a kid so now u buy whatever little thing u want as an adult and struggle with saving for the big mandatory thing,

or the grew up poor never being able to buy the little things in life u always wanted as a kid so now u just never buy anything small bcs u had to learn to live without it and constantly try to save for the next big thing in 500 yrs

[hauntingblue]

CAUSE THIS IS THRILLER (bark), THRILLER (bark) NIGHT

Usopp's outfit is so funny for reals

He got the whole squad laughing

Luffy enablers at it again.... (Robin.... I know.....)

The humor panels so far have been so good!!! God this arc is so funny

HE SAID IT‼️‼️

They look like birds 😭😭

It's just too good... luffy taking cerberus and zombies what can't he do

It's just banger after banger what can I say

Franky feeling for other people because of his guilt complex and sanji lying through his teeth and pulling out the women excuse to seem unaffected... yeah

Look at them.... look how they ate

Omg joyboy reference?? (No)

Sanji is rubbing off on usopp.... also chopper noticing that is sogeking's weapon akdhaksjak

ANOTHER SLAY!!!!!

Their priorities: I'm not strong enough, there isn't enough food, and nami isn't here

Franky going from wanting to kill brook for his jokes to making a joke like his after he hears his backstory... exactly (Robin was already enabling him before the backstory even fdagjsfha)

Sanji is altering his body and actually being on fire to communicate to us how fucking mad he is..... I need more of him going insane I do I do

My god what is he doing ALDJALAJALA

AHSAHAHQHAH THEY ARE THE SAME!!! naaah sanji wouldn't force a woman to be his wife

You cant see me but I am nodding my head in agreement over and over

You don't understand he altered his body to communicate to us how mad he is. He inploded himself and then reconstituted again. Those germa 66 genes are insane

You tell em usopp!!!! The first of many girls you've scared into defeat!!! Akdjqknql

Zoro zombie regressed to not trusting robin akdjaks he's still in there

ROBI-CHO SUPLEX??? HELL YEAAAAAH

There is zosa- [GUNSHOT GUNSHOT GUNSHOT GUNSHOT]

Super frapper gong.... he is doing combo shots with frobin... omg.... parents....

Everything is so fun I'm having such a good time reading.... and then zosan angst like damn I am being fed well here

[crybaby-bkg]

potential angst fic where the world just….collapses in on itself right before your very eyes. the sky is deep red in color, clouds gone, night doesn’t fall behind the horizon of your trees anymore. land is splitting into millions of pieces, people are falling into the ocean by the thousands. there’s chaos everywhere, and you’re sure that this is the official end of the world.

only thing is—you can’t die yet. not because you haven’t fulfilled your life’s destiny or whatever bullshit, no. you refuse to die a virgin. but luckily, so does your childhood best friend Bakugou.

the earth is still shifting and rocking when you both agree to it, sure that by tomorrow the house shattering storms will have moved to your region, that you’ll be dead by sunrise. so you spend the entire night encased in his arms, tangled in his bed sheets. you wish you had more time to try more positions, but you tick off most on your bucket list.

he’s surprisingly shy the whole time, a little huffy when he tries to stick it in and misses your hole because he’s so nervous, and also, there’s another earthquake happening at this very moment. he kisses you gentle, and breaths hotly against your neck whenever you squeeze down on him. it’s not enough time in the remainder of the world to make fun of him for being a one pump chump, and you can only hook your leg around his waist to make him keep going so you can experience your first orgasm with another person.

and the night is heavenly, blissful, full of sweet moans and tender touches. it all goes well, and you expect to wake up in some afterlife by the time ‘night’ is over.

….only thing is; you wake up the next day. in bed. beside Bakugou who looks at you just as confusedly.

“I thought we were supposed to be dead by now?” He asks you, turning on your tv that hasn’t worked since the birds fell out of the sky. but miraculously—the tv works. and it’s broadcasting extremely important news, a headline that makes you swallow.

apocalypse seemingly over: or are we being fooled by an angry god?

“What the fuck are we gonna do now?” You can hear Bakugou mutter, but you’re still stuck on the paler sky that’s starting to look more blue and the one bird on the branch outside your window and the people who’ve stopped wielding axes and started picking up shattered pieces of their homes. but you’re still even more so stuck on the fact that you just fucked your childhood best friend in his too big and expensive bed and lost your virginity for nothing. what the fuck are you gonna do now?

[typinggently]

I got so invested in the concept of fem!Negan last night before bed. For one Cegan would be sickening. Just off the walls. You don’t even dare say it, just. Wowza. Her taking him to her little harem of pretty guys to show off. Having him stand there awkwardly with his beer bottle. Phew. Add the whole Daryl part to this actually. The implications would just be different wouldn’t they. Fun. Interesting. And the whole subversion of expectation when it comes to the eye. The absolute lack of gentle care we’re so used to expecting from older women. Christ! That is disgusting! And the elephant in the room, of course. Five letter word, we’ve all been there. But also the look alone?! The head smashing? Curls flying everywhere, grey streaks, leather jacket, toothy grin?! Wow. …anyhow I went back to the fic I was reading and had a very startling “wait who’s this guy 🤨” moment

[hsinliuvega]

does anyone else think about how kassian and hsin swapped roles in book 5 or is that just me