#and suddenly it's like he realizes that he was one all along and to the person who matters to him most

[shankss-magnificent-ass]

Imagine helping Crocodile discover a new way to use his devil fruit, part 2

I've decided that I'm going to do a fic for this, instead of an imagine. I don't know about this one, but I'm posting it anyway.

Also, this an afab reader fic, sorry.

It was late when you left Buggy's party to head home. So late, in fact, that the city had turned off most of the streetlamps. With only every third lamp lit on the main streets, one of Crocodile's brilliant budget cuts left you blindly scurrying between lamps to stay where you could see, cursing as you went. When you finally reached your street you encountered an expanse of broken streetlights leaving you with little choice, but to fumble blindly down the road, with only starlight to guide you. You paused, to give your eyes a moment to adjust and to put on your shoes, before heading off into the darkness.

Only a few steps in, you heard what sounded like sand moving. Without thinking, you called out, "hello?" Your jaw snapped shut when you realized you had just given away your position.

A deep chuckle broke the tense air, it was familiar, "It's quite late for little deers to be out, all by themselves." Suddenly, a bright ember lit up in your periphery, giving you a glance at the man in the dark. A dark cigar with a predatory grin at the other end of the ember, there was no mistaking it.

Crocodile murmured, "I've been looking for you all night."

"Why me?" You asked, taking a step back, even though you knew there was no escaping from him if he really wanted you

"I want to know what else that fucked up little head of yours can come up with." He purred. You flinch as his hand engulfed your neck. The feeling of his sand skittering along your skin made you instinctively go up on your tippy-toes to get away. Sensing your discomfort, his thumb gently caresses your cheek to soothe you. "Easy there, I'm not going to hurt you, yet." Crocodile takes a slow drag off his cigar, the ember glittering in his eyes. He was clearly enjoying the power trip he was getting off on your fear.

You swallowed the lump in your throat and started to ramble off anything you could use sand for. "Water filtration."

"Water is a no-go."

"You could use the technique I previously suggested to make glass. It would be useful for barriers against biochemical attacks, or for stopping up hinges. "

Crocodile hummed, "That would be useful, I'll have to try that later... But ultimately not the thing I'm looking for. "

"What sort of things are you implying?"

"Telling you would deprive me of the pleasure of watching you squirm, so keep trying." He said, tightening his hand around your neck, just enough to make your head spin.

You gasped, "Sand has silica in it, which is bad to breathe in. Uh... I can be used for skin!"

His grip loosened, as he echoed, "for skin?"

"It's used as an exfoliant." You stammered, trying to remain balanced.

"I recall having skinned my knee falling on the beach before I ate my devil fruit." He grumbled.

"You're supposed to add it to lotion or oil. "

"I can use lotion and oil," he chuckled, "I finally have the inspiration I needed. Thank you, little deer, why don't we go try it out." Crocodile released your neck, slid his arm around your shoulders, and guided you down the street.

"What are you doing." You asked, "Where are you taking me?"

The large man pulled you into his side, bemused by your size difference, as he asked, "did I misinterpret the way you look at me when you think I can see you?"

Your eyes flicked up to his, suddenly feeling very embarrassed because you've always taken every opportunity to ogle him in that slutty lil waistcoat of his.

He gave you a feline grin and mused, "I have not misinterpreted anything, have it. I know a hungry look when I see one. So where I'm taking you is to feast at my residence."

Sir Crocodile wasted no time bringing you to his estate, you crossed the threshold, and his grip on you slid from your shoulder to your waist. His hand groped the fat of your hip through the thin material of your shirt, as he led you to his room.

As soon as his bedroom door shut behind him, he removed his coat and gently pushed you face down on the large, plush sheets of his bed. He ordered you not to move a muscle, and you waited patiently, happily taking in the heavy scent of his sheets. You remained there for two minutes, listening to him remove his coat and shoes, he moved to another room for a minute, before coming back and setting several bottles and a large box on the nightstand.

"Up, sit up." He asserted, sliding onto the bed behind you. When you sat up on your knees, one of his large hands pulled you back into his lap. With another hoist and a gasp from you, he had you perched upon the rather prominent bulge in his pants. He had evidently removed his belt and vest well, he sat there in only a crisp button-up shirt and starched slacks.

"Now, why don't we get started with the foreplay?" He chuckled, swapping out his hook for some sort of mobility attachment that allowed him to unbutton his shirt. You leaned against his chest, and looked up at him. The black haired man grinned at the submissive look on your face, and used his now free hand to remove his hook. You watched as his nub and his hand turned into lumps of sand.

"I think the lotion would work quite nicely, don't you?" Crocodile rumbled, depositing several pumps of lotion onto the sand and rubbing them together until it was mixed evenly. The anticipation had caused an ache to grow between your legs. An ache that only grew larger when he shoved his hands under your shirt. You gasped when his fingers pushed up your breasts. The sand was cool at first, but it warmed up the rotation picked up speed.

You reached back and locked hands around the back of his neck, fingers tangling in the strands of hair there, as you arched into his touch. Crocodile let you bask in his touch for only a brief moment, before nudging your head in his direction and capturing your lips in a passionate kiss. His scent, taste, and touch filled your senses. He smelled like whiskey, smoke, honey, and a natural musk, which left you dizzy. A high-pitched sigh left you, reveling in the moment, completely missing that the noise that had left you a moment ago had made the man under you feel absolutely feral. He let you distract yourself by grinding down on him, and nipping at his lips and tongue, while he gathered more sand. He opened the lotion bottle and mixed its contents with his sand before forming several new arms.

Three large hands pried apart your legs, as two hands of swirling sand massaged the meat of your thighs and calves. Two hands gripped your hips, rocking your clothes slit over his bulge, as two more hands groped at your chest. You cried out, only for Crocodile to use a column of sand to pull you back into a kiss. While his hand, of flesh and bone, made its way between your legs.

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[nastyenemyeater]

Rockstar Choso 🫣👹🎸🥁- FANFIC

I saw some tiktoks about Choso being a drummer and it gave me some ideas.

Here are the links :

SHOUT OUT TO NARUTOSS.RAMEN

either way here's the plot : basically Y/n got cheated on by her bf at a club and she got revenge by kissing the drummer of 'The curses' rockstar band .

“Look Y/n isn’t that Nathan?” asked your best friend, pointing at a guy during a hardcore kissing session with a random girl.

The blasting music, the heat in the club and the moving people passing by and occasionally shoving you to pave their way, were not helping you in any way digest the scene you just witnessed.

Your knees felt weak, your heartbeat increased considerably, memories flashed by, tears started overflowing and millions of questions exploded inside your head “why? Am I dreaming? Why did he cheat so easily? Did he even love me?”

“Go confront him Y/n! What are you waiting for? The fuck??” shouted your best friend, shaking you fervently and bringing you back to the hell.

You couldn’t. Or you thought it didn’t matter anymore.

“That motherfucker” you seethed in anger.

Alcohol was all you could think about. Yes, you needed to drink a shit ton of it. After all, you came to the club to enjoy your Saturday night. You didn’t plan on having your heart broken but … life never goes how you want it right?

You made your way to the bar, jaw clenched, eyes burning with anger and determined to drown the night’s misery in alcohol. The bartender handed you the strongest shot of vodka, and you backed at least five of them. Each one went down smoother than the last, but the pain refused to fade.

"Maybe I should just make out with the first guy that comes along," you thought bitterly, resting your head on your arms as you looked to your left.

Unexpectedly, a pair of dark, hazy eyes were already locked on you. He sat back against the bar, elbows resting casually behind him. His dark, messy hair clung to his sweaty forehead, framing his sharp features – a defined jawline, high cheekbones, and tired, yet piercing eyes that studied you intently. Tattoos snaked up his neck and down his muscular arms, accentuated by the sleeveless black shirt that clung to his broad frame. His legs were spread wide, exuding a quiet confidence and control.

Without thinking, you locked eyes with him, staring intently with no thoughts, just an empty, heated gaze. A faint smirk played on his lips as he stared back, silent but sharp, as if he was waiting for you to make the next move.

“Whatch’you lookin’ at?” he asked with an amused tone, breaking the silence between you two.

You didn’t have the strength to engage in any conversation yet, and all you could do was stare at him. Being in that inebriating state made easy for you to prolongate the eye contact.

He let out a low chuckle, stood from his seat and made his way toward you.

But before he could take another step, 2 other guys suddenly pulled him away, dragging him toward the other side of the bar. A chaotic stream of girls followed, screaming some names as they swarmed after them.

You watched as he winked at you before disappearing into the crowd. Despite the commotion, you remained rooted to your spot, an amused smile playing on your lips as you took in the scene.

“Wow, they must be somebody for them to get followed liked this” you wondered. You groaned loudly as you realized your mistake “Fuckkk ! I just blew my chance … fuck fuck fuck … Uh give me another one please” you said, asking for another shot to forget about this massive fail.

By now, the alcohol coursing through your veins made you feel more at ease, braver, and a little reckless. Confidence surged with every beat of the rock music that pounded through the club, filling your body with raw energy. The tension that had been building up inside you needed an outlet, and before you knew it, you found yourself weaving through the crowd toward the dance floor.

You moved with purpose, shaking off the accumulated stress with each step. The crowd was electric, and soon you managed to slip right to the front of the stage, where you spotted the two guys who had dragged your "new friend" away earlier. They were performing, and you finally recognized them as The Curses, a rockstar band.

You also spotted your "new friend" as their drummer. His name was Choso apparently.

The music reverberated through your body, each beat syncing with the rising tension inside, a strange mix of hurt, anger, and alcohol pushing you to the edge. By the time they finished their set, the adrenaline was pumping so hard it was like a shot of fire to your system.

Without thinking, you somehow climbed up on the stage. The crowd’s roar faded into the background as you grabbed the microphone, your voice raw with emotion as you shouted, “FUCK YOU NATHAN!”

The audience gasped, some laughing, some unsure what was happening, but you didn’t care. Your mind raced as you continued, “GO FUCK YOURSELF NATHAN! YOU DON’T DESERVE SHIT IN YOUR LIFE”

The two guys from the band rushed over, trying to calm you down, but most importantly trying to yank the mic out of your hands. One of them put a hand on your shoulder, but you jerked your arm away and continued, “YOU HEAR ME, NATHAN? YOU MANWHORE”

Someone grabbed your arm, pulling you slightly back as a voice whispered, "C’mon, miss, don’t embarrass yourself. Get down from the—"

But you cut them off, shouting, “DON’T TOUCH ME! I HAVE THE RIGHT TO SPEAK!” Your voice rang out, fierce and defiant. Then, you turned and realized it wasn’t a stranger—it was Choso. His intense, steady gaze met yours, silently pleading for you to calm down. For a moment, everything else faded, and it was just the two of you, his eyes trying to pull you back from the edge.

The noise and chaos seemed to fade into the background. Staring into his captivating eyes, you thought, It’s now or never. Your gaze flicked from his eyes to his plump lips, and without hesitation, you acted.

You dragged him down toward you, while rising up onto your tiptoes, and then you kissed him fervently, all the pent-up emotion pouring into that moment.

His pink-haired friend cackled into the mic, “You hear that, Nathan? You fucked up! Your girl’s gone now!”

“yeah you son a bitch! look at me eating up this guy’s mouth!” you thought, deepening the kiss.

You would be a total liar if you said that making out with Choso was just any other chore to get back at your ex.

No, no, no, no… that man was a beast. The second your lips touched his, he yanked your body against his, your breasts colliding with his large, hard chest.

Every inch of him was solid, muscle-packed beneath his shirt like he was carved from stone. His body radiated heat, and the faint sheen of sweat from his earlier performance mixed with the scent of his cologne—a powerful, intoxicating blend that made you want him even more. The mix was engulfing, dizzying, wrapping around you like a drug, making it impossible to pull away.

What started as a kiss turned into something deeper, more intense. His mouth was commanding, his lips moving over yours with a hunger that sent a shiver down your spine. His tongue was battling against yours, and all you could do was respond.

He was devouring the fuck out of you.

His hands slid down to your waist, his grip tightening as if he couldn’t bear to let you go. The feel of his body against yours – strong, immovable – made you crave more. Your fingers roamed up his shoulders, desperate to feel more of him, to get closer.

This wasn’t just some kiss to get back at Nathan. Choso’s kiss was raw, overwhelming, and consuming – everything you didn’t know you needed.

“Ok ok lovebirds! time’s up! you both can finish this later” suggested his sexy black-haired friend.

The crowd's reaction to your passionate kiss was a mix of emotions. Some voices rose in anger, hurling insults, while others cheered loudly, celebrating your bold move. The air buzzed with a clash of discontent and admiration. Some of them even started chanting “fuck you Nathan” in chorus.

But eventually, all good things must come to an end … and you had to shed yourself from Choso’s addictive body. You were both panting and staring at each other’s soul trying to figure out what just happened and what was going to happen afterwards.

“So ... do you make a habit of kissing random guys on stage?” he asked with a smirk, his eyes lingering on your face, taking in every detail.

“I … I have to go …” you stuttered, pushing him slowly away.

“Oh nah you can’t go now. There is no way I’ll let you leave after what you just did to me” he said, pulling you closer.

“I acted impulsively … I’m sorry … I need to go” you said, still trying to get out of his grip.

“Oh, so you’re just going to run back to Nathan?” he spat bitterly, holding you even harder.

You immediately frowned upon hearing his name again.

“Fuck you” you gritted, putting all your almighty force to push yourself away from him.

“That’s perfect, I have a 20-minute break anyway” he said, grinning. Before you could respond, his strong arms encircled your waist. In one swift, fluid motion, you were lifted off the ground. Panic surged as you were hoisted over his shoulder. It wasn’t a gentle lift; it was firm and unyielding.

“Guys, if you don’t mind, I have something to take care of” he informed his friends.

“Man, do whatch’ya gotta do, we lost you the minute she got on stage” said the black-haired guy.

You kicked and hit desperately, your fists pounding against his back. “Put me down!” you screamed, struggling against the grip holding you. “Let me go!”

“I don’t know about you, but I like to kiss a little before fucking. That being said, if you like it rough I can do that for you baby” he said, spanking you.

“The fuck??? did you just spank me?? how dare you??” you screamed at him, outraged.

“oh so we were literally dry-humping each other on stage 5 minutes ago but I can’t spank you now? That’s bullshit! You’re mine now!” he said, pushing an exit door.

When he finally set you down, the cold night air jolted you back to reality.

“Listen, I’m sorry, I didn’t think this through, ok? I just saw my boyfriend kissing a chick and I saw you as an opportunity to get revenge … I’m sorry please, just let me go” you pleaded.

He leaned in, slammed both of his hands on the wall, caging you with his body “So you’re telling me you didn’t enjoy our kissing session?” he asked faking a pout, but clearly amused.

“I didn’t say that” you shyly admitted, looking away.

“Then why are you running away?” he whispered in your ear, his lips now dangerously close to your neck.

“Please understand my situation here, I still have to deal with my feelings” you said, trying to get your neurons to work.

“I know for sure I can get him out of your head and give you new feelings to think about” he whispered against your neck.

“Look, I’m not trying to fuck … I told you I acted impulsively, I’m sorry” you asserted. Your mouth said no but your body craved this man with every alive and dead cell.

“Hey, as much as I love sex, I’m not going to fuck with you if you’re not willing. What I’d really like to do, though, is to get to know you better. So, what’s your name” he asked, his tilted curious face looking at you.

“I … uh … Y/n” you sighed. You knew there was no point in faking a name. You would have forgotten about it anyway.

“Y/n ... I can see myself moaning your name”

“Shut up. Choso.” you said, trying to hide your fluster.

“I definitely can see you moaning my name” he added, with a smirk.

You could see yourself doing that too. Just thinking about it, sent tingling signals to your pussy.

“Can I get another kiss before going back to stage?” he asked with a demanding look on his face. He looked so adorable, with his pleading eyes and his slightly parted lips. He held your chin up with his hand, forcing you to look up to him.

That bastard … He wasn’t playing fairly …

“if you keep looking at me like that I might have to bring you home, and keep you all for myself” he whispered again in your neck.

You couldn’t speak. You were unable to focus on not acting impulsively again and trying to formulate long sentences. Your brain was in a total meltdown.

“Just so you know, I still plan to get my revenge and kiss you first, and when I do, you’re not getting out alive” he added, gently kissing your neck.

Silence.

“Please ... say something, you’re driving me crazy” he whispered, desperation lingering on his voice.

His hands slid on your back, pulling you closer to him.

“Fuck … baby … please … don’t give me the silence treatment …” he whined, holding you harder.

“Ok …just one peck” you sighed, finally making a decision. You had surrendered to this man’s desires.  

You got on your tippy toes and gave him a 4-second peck on his soft lips. But no light brush of lips or polite peck was enough for Choso. As soon as your lips touched again, he kissed you back with everything he had, hungry for so much more.

“Hey! C’mon man, we need you back on stage. Sex time’s over” interrupted pink-haired guy busting the exit door open.

“Fuck off man” Choso growled between kisses, as you both slowly came to a stop.

“I want to see you again baby. Gimme somethin’ more than your name” he asked, visibly frustrated.

“How about you look for me here next Saturday at your concert?” you suggested, smirking unknowingly, your hands roaming on his broad chest.

“And when I catch you,” he said with a grin, “you'll see the things I’m going to do to you.” he finished, with a hard squeeze of your ass.

i hope you liked this story ❤️ don't hesitate to comment and reblog !

[leiascully]

Fic: Heaven Is A Place On Earth (M, MSR)

1300 words; M for sexual situations; no if, ands, or bees or: what if the outtake FTF kiss was the sex we had along the way

Scully’s panting on his lap, her face flushed and her blue eyes wide and hungry. Her knees are deep in his couch; her thighs quiver outside his. He’s trembling too, with anticipation and need. He’s pressing his hips down into the couch, fighting the urge to surge up into her. The latex-clad head of his cock is pressed against her entrance.

“We don’t have to,” he says. It might be the single bravest act any human has ever committed.

He watches emotions flicker over her face: lust, anxiety, delight, desire, love. “Mulder, I want to. It’s just been a while.” She takes a deep breath.

He reaches up to touch her face. “You’re in charge here.”

Ten minutes ago, they were in his hallway. It feels like a lifetime. He told her what she meant to him, that she saved him. She kissed his forehead. And then…and then they reached for each other, inevitably, as if this has been their logical destination all along. He couldn’t remember who had initiated it. Her mouth opened against his and he melted into her. She moved against him and he slipped his hands under her ass and hefted her. Her legs wrapped around his hips as they stumbled backwards into his apartment, lips still locked.

Five minutes ago, they were peeling each other out of their clothes. He’d been hard since the first brush of her lips. He couldn’t let go of her, couldn’t stop touching her. Her hands were all over him, deft and urgent. When he slipped his fingers between her folds, she was soaking wet. He’s not ashamed to admit he moaned out loud. Her eyes widened. She touched his cock, her fingers suddenly tentative.

“I knew you were…substantial,” she said. “But I can’t say I expected this.”

He knows. Phoebe used to drag her palm down the length of him when they were out with friends. Showing him off, she always said, but it was embarrassing. He’s not embarrassed when Scully touches him.

“Guess I’m a grower and a shower,” he teased.

She bit her lip as she considered him. There was a hunger in her face he’d only glimpsed before. Now she was letting him see it. It made fire lick through his veins.

“You on top,” he suggested. “Control the pace.”

“On the couch,” she told him, and he was halfway there before he realized he’d moved.

And that brings them here: to Scully, naked, hovering above him. Somehow in the haze of need, he found a condom and a bottle of lube. She’s so fucking wet, but lube doesn’t hurt. His hands drop from her face to span her waist, holding her steady. Her tits, fuck, her tits are so close to his face.

“Mulder, I want this,” she says. Her voice only shakes a little. “I want it so badly.”

“Go slow,” he says.

She sinks onto him. His cock presses into her, just the head, just past the tight ring of muscle at her entrance. She gasps.

“Oh God,” she says.

He’d agree, if he could say anything. But he’s forgotten every word he knows but her name and the word yes.

She rises, ever so slightly, and he slides out again. She whimpers and so does he. But then she’s sinking onto him again, a little deeper. This time she just stays there, a look of ravenous bliss on her face. He can feel her adjusting around him. Her knees tighten and then relax. He can’t help himself anymore. He leans forward to kiss her tits. He takes one nipple into his mouth, pulling at it with his lips and tongue until she groans his name.

Inch by inch, she takes him. He tells her how brave she is, how gorgeous. He worships her tits the way he’s always longed to. He loves the way she hisses when he scrapes the edges of his teeth across her nipples or sucks at the delicate skin under her ear. She’ll have love bites later, unmistakable marks of the things they’re doing. He thinks she’ll be proud of them.

Finally he’s deep, deep inside her. She’s so goddamn tight around him. Her eyes are closed and her face is a Baroque painting. The urge to pound up into her is so strong that he’s shaking holding back. Scully undressed is so delicate and so strong. He wants to overwhelm her with pleasure, make her eyes roll back in her head again. But he stays still. He waits for her. He needs her to take what she wants from him. He needs her to get what she needs.

“Fuck,” she says. She opens her eyes. “Mulder.” His name is a prayer.

He rubs his face against her chest, drags his lips over her flushed skin. She shifts, groaning as the pressure of his cock inside her changes. She rises a little, sinks again, splays her knees to take him even deeper, and then does it all again. He sees God, and he isn’t even close to coming.

She rides him, so slowly at first and then faster, and he watches her. There’s an expression on her face he can’t quantify. It’s beyond pleasure. She’s so hot and tight and wet around him. He can feel the way he fills her up and it only fuels his pleasure. He reaches down to thumb her clit. He has to make her come. He has to feel her come. He has to feel her come around his cock, because of his cock, because of his fingers and his lips and the rough edge in his voice that he can tell she likes.

He plays her by ear, tuning the pitch of her moans higher and higher. He’s moaning too, and she likes that. Her muscles clutch around him when he gets loud. She’s dragging him closer and closer to the edge. The curls around his cock are absolutely soaked with her wetness. His fingers are slick with her as he draws quick circles around her clit.

“Come for me,” he begs her.

“Fuck me,” she says, and God, he can’t help himself after that. He presses his hands around her hips and surges into her, up and up and up while she cries out and her tits bounce. And she’s coming, her cunt fluttering around him. He fucks her through it and then slows down to let her catch her breath.

“Don’t stop,” she says.

“Never,” he promises, picking up her hand and kissing it. She rises and sinks, gazing into his eyes, and it’s slow and sweet and everything he imagined. He’s close, he’s so close, and the slick of her, the heat of her is astonishing. He can feel every vein in his body as his heart thuds. He loves her. He loves her so fucking much. And he loves her most of all in this moment as she holds him with her stare, fucking herself deliberately with his cock and letting him see each nerve light up with the pleasure his body gives her. There are sparks in her smile and fireworks in her eyes.

“Do it for me,” she croons to him and he comes apart, shivering under her.

He makes her come again, after, on her back with her knees by his ears. She tastes like latex but he licks her until her body shakes and shakes. She pulls him on top of her. He’s still half-hard, worried about the condom but unable to deny her his weight if that’s what she wants. She wraps her arms around him and holds him close. He buries his face against her.

“I could never have left you,” she says into the hollow of his shoulder. “Not really.”

He kisses her temple. “I would have followed you.”

Across the room, a bee staggers out from under the collar of her jacket, topples over, and goes to bee heaven. They don’t notice. They’re in their own private heaven.

[missadangel]

The Heart of Rome (Marcus Acacius x Reader)

All Chapter List

Chapter 2: The Letter

"Omnia, quae fiunt, eveniunt ut oportet; et si diligenter observaveris, hoc ita esse invenies." M. Aurelius

“Everything that happens, happens as it should, and if you observe carefully, you will find this to be so.”

The carriage shook from time to time as it traveled along the stony roads of the capital. Octavius was sitting across, glancing at you out of the corner of his eye as you peered out from under the curtain, eager to see where you were being taken. You had many questions, but you were hesitant to ask him directly. After all, in their eyes, you were just an ordinary woman with the status of a slave.

But as you watched outside, you realized that you were more fortunate than other women of the same status. Instead of being taken away in a cart like you, they were dragged, beaten, and forcibly taken away in chains.

As the carriage approached a huge rounded building, you opened your mouth in astonishment. It had to be the Colosseum, you had heard so much about it, but you never expected it to be this huge. This massive structure was so magnificent that it was truly pushing the limits of the human mind. It was fascinating, frightening, and amazing.

You stood in awe of the most intriguing structure on the streets of Rome until it disappeared from view. Then, with a sigh, you turned your head in the direction the cart was going. After passing insulas, temples, aqueducts, fountains, and gardens, you drove through a large wooded area. The car began to sway noticeably as the terrain shifted from stones to dirt and grass. Then, a large villa appeared in front of you.

Unlike the sand-colored villas in the Egyptian lands, this one was almost white and had a crimson herb-colored roof. At the entrance to the garden, the tall white columns holding up the roof were decorated with various figures and reliefs. It was extraordinarily beautiful, and as you looked around for a long time you were surprised to realize that Octavius had already gotten out of the cart and was waiting for you to come out.

"My lady," you were even more surprised when he offered you his hand.

You lifted the hem of your cloak and carefully stepped down from the carriage.

"I am not a lady, sir," you gripped the handle of your bag tightly instead of taking his hand.

Octavius withdrew his hand and looked at you in confusion.

"I know, I didn't want to address you as a slave, you are so much more."

On the outside, this burly man had a stern temperament that was not to be crossed, but he was very kind.

"That's all right, sir, I appreciate your kindness, may I ask you something if I don't overstep my bounds?"

He nodded.

“Why am I here? Why did the General buy me?”

Obviously, he didn't care about you for ten days, why did he suddenly remember you and bring you to his villa, you wondered.

"Ask him when he arrives, I was only supposed to bring you here, I must leave now as I have completed my mission."

"Sir!"

A middle-aged, chubby woman ran up to you, and from the way she looked at him, you realized that she knew Octavius very well. She was about to ask him something, but she turned her head and looked you up and down, her eyes wide with astonishment.

"A slave? Or did the emperors send her as a gift to our master again?"

You took a step back, your eyes wide with panic, and turned your head to Octavius.

A gift? What did she mean by that, you asked yourself.

“No, they didn't send her. The general bought her from the slaver,” Octavius stated firmly as he strode towards the carriage. "Show her to her room and make her comfortable. I have to go now."

"Yes, sir," she said, then turned her head to you.

But you were looking at the carriage speeding away, feeling abandoned by his departure.

“Hurry up, girl, inside with me. The General is almost here. You need to dress properly," she commanded, beckoning you with her hand.

You did as she said, and passed between the imposing columns, entered the garden with a large pool in the center which welcomed you with its sparkling water. The villa had a large courtyard and more than one garden. In the center of the square pool in this garden was a statue of Neptune holding a spear in his hand.

There were vines surrounding the tall white columns and short trees accompanying them, and in front of them, a fountain made of white marble. You listened to the sound of the water running through the fountain as you walked behind the woman. It seemed peaceful, but that was not exactly what you felt inside.

When you entered a small room, the woman called one of the other girls over. In this room, there were two wooden wardrobes and a large wooden chest. A young girl with red hair came running to you. The other woman grabbed you by the arm and looked at your clothes, her face disgusted.

“Dress this girl quickly, she must be ready before the master arrives,” she touched your hair and ran her fingers through it as if combing it. “She looks like she's had a bath, but her clothes look terrible, get rid of them when you're done,” she said as if giving orders. It was obvious that she was in charge of things here, maybe because of his age.

The girl opened the closet door and took out a white silk and tulle fabric. You took out your bag and put it aside, but you were not comfortable. After all, there was something very important in your bag.

"Are you nervous?" the girl asked you curiously when the other woman left.

"A little, but about what?"

"About spending the night with the General," she said, lowering her voice.

You looked at her in shock. ‘I'm certainly not here for that,’ your voice trembled with anger.

The girl let out a little sigh as she helped you get undressed. You felt uneasy, but she was so kind and gentle. ”He won't touch you anyway,” she opened the wardrobe and took a piece of fabric in her arm. “He’s never touched any of the girls the emperors have sent for him. They've all been sent away the next day."

"Why is that?" Your voice boomed in the small room, couldn't help but wonder why a man would refuse such a thing.

The girl laughed at your reaction, and you smiled back shyly. She stood in front of you, draped the wool fabric dress over your shoulders, letting it drop over your breasts, and tied it to the belt around your waist. Your arms and neckline were bare, and you covered your wrist with your hand, but it was clear she didn't care about the bruise. "Nobody's sure, but we think it might be because of his wife whom he divorced a long time ago. He's a noble and decent man. I'm sure he'll treat you well, just like he treats all of us.”

"He bought me, not the emperor," you stated assertively, tugging at the belt around your waist and trying to feel comfortable.

"Did he? That’s even more strange. He hasn't bought any new slaves for a long time." The girl touched your hair, combing it with her fingers and gathering a strand on the right side before fastening it with a thin hairpin. "But maybe it's because you are so beautiful," she said, smiling at you warmly. "Where are you from?”

"I grew up in Alexandria, but as far as I know, I am Roman, an orphan," you stated confidently. "You don't look like Roman though."

The girl smiled but her eyes held a hint of sadness. "I was taken as a captive of war at the age of fourteen, but I tried to escape, and the slaver beat me to death." She took a deep breath and continued. “I would have died on those cold cobblestones if he had not been kind enough to buy me and let me live in his villa here.”

You suddenly realized that your story didn't seem as bad as hers. You felt sorry for her.

"I apologize," you said sincerely.

She had a warm smile, and warm brown eyes, her hair was a mixture of red and orange, and she had freckles on her face, she was friendly and one of the nicest people you would meet in a long time. She touched your shoulder with a warm smile.

"The General isn't as harsh and ruthless as he seems. If he brought you here, he must like you. You're lucky."

“But he's never met me,” you said suddenly. There was no situation in which he could have liked you. In fact, he almost broke your wrist because he thought you were the enemy.

That's why you were worried. You wanted to believe he was a good man, but your instincts told you otherwise.

"I'm Norell, by the way," she said, smiling.

"I've never heard that name before," you said, raising your eyebrows.

"It means from the north. I'm from Scandinavia. Do you have a name?"

You wanted to tell her the name your uncle and his wife had given you, but the woman from earlier came over and scolded you both a little for stalling. When she tried to take your bag, you resisted strongly and held it in your arms.

She frowned at you and pointed to the bag, "It looks old and dirty. Put it where you will stay, out of my sight. Norell, show her where she'll be staying. I have to check the kitchen.”

"Yes, Tullia," she said as she led you out of the room. You touched your new clothes as you walked into another room. These clothes were ordinary clothes that any slave would wear, but for you they were unusual. You'd always worn men's clothes when you were with your uncle. You'd never let your hair hang over your shoulders outside the house. That's why you almost like dressing like that if you ignore the fact that your neck and shoulders are completely exposed.

"This way," Norell said, pointing to a room that was slightly larger than the last one. There were two mattresses a large wooden chest and a small closet in the corner. She pointed to one of the mattresses against the wall.

"You can sleep here.”

It wasn't the most comfortable option, but it was far superior to the beds in the Valetudinarium. You sat down and put your bag under the blanket. Meanwhile, she was observing you curiously.

"It's what's left of my family," you explained.

"Don't worry, I would never touch your things," she assured you. You trusted her, even though you'd only just met. But you'd promised your uncle about the letter, so you tucked it under the mattress when she left the room. You were eager to open it, but you wanted to make sure you were completely alone first.

While you were sitting there, you realized how tired you were. You didn't know if it was the effect of traveling with the ship, but your head still felt like it was shaking. Your body was almost collapsing when you noticed a cat outside the window.

Since you grew up in Egypt, you had a cat in your old house too, that looked just like this cat, was dark black with beautiful green eyes. You called it over with your hand, but it ran ahead, towards another garden in the courtyard so you ran excitedly to it.

As you followed her at a brisk pace, you couldn't fit through the gap the cat could, so you entered through the wooden gate of this separate garden, fortunately, it was open. It's a beautiful garden with many herbs, plants and flowers. You distinctly remember using the hypericum (St. John's wort) plant with your uncle on many occasions. This is a medicinal plant with healing properties. You sat on the grass and picked a bunch of hypericum. You crushed the leaves with your fingertips and rubbed the bruises on your wrist with the liquid that came out. Then the cat brushes its tail against your feet. You take her in your arms, sit her on your lap, and begin stroking her head feeling her soft hair under your fingers making you feel peaceful. But you were exhausted and could not keep your eyes open, so you lay down and closed them. 

As the general arrived at his villa, the sun was preparing to bid farewell to the capital of Rome. He had barely sat down since he stepped ashore. He was tired, yes, but also filled with an indescribable excitement. He tried to remember why or when he had felt this way for so long, but he couldn't even remember. He had been on the road for months, on his way to Egypt to put down the rebellion. He had finally succeeded, but it had exhausted him. Moreover, being assassinated and wounded on the way back, and having one of his soldiers mutiny while he was recovering, was not something an ordinary man could handle. He touched his wound through his leather armor and felt grateful to one who healed him. Even though his body was so tired, he was determined to meet this girl.

Tullia greeted him with a happy smile and ran to him.

“Sir! You're home at last! I sacrificed three pigs to Mars to ensure your safe return!”

Acacius smiled at her and stepped out of the carriage, his eyes fixed on the garden of his villa. "Tullia, the girl Octavius brought here today, I want to see her." His voice was firm and impatient.

"Yes, master, he did. She's inside. Come in."

Acacius strode into the garden, leaving the squire struggling to keep up. He looked around but couldn't find what he was looking for. "I don't see her, Tullia. Where is she?"

Tullia swallowed, "My lord, she was here. I'll find her," she said as she started to leave, but Acacius stopped her by raising his hand.

"Send her to my room and prepare my bath," he ordered, heading for the stone stairs leading to his room.

Everyone mobilized to find you at once and prepare their master's bath.

His squire entered Acacius's room and helped him remove his armor. Once he was finished, he left the room. Acacius removed the shin guards from his knees and took a deep breath, now wearing only his burgundy tunic. He felt relieved but still impatient and decided to go out onto the balcony to watch the scenery. He was thinking about you when he gazed at the gorgeous city in the distance. He smiled to himself as he recalled his first experience of falling in love. He had assumed that he would never feel that way again, ever since he had turned his back on love. He was convinced that Venus’s son Cupid would never grant him a new love. All this time he thought of himself as an unlucky lover, punished by Mars, the god of war. Mars had endowed him with the ability to fight, he wondered if it was because love could be his weak point. He was about to find out.

As he made his way inside, he noticed something in the garden below that caught his eye. He noticed a young girl with golden hair, resting on the green grass in the garden that bordered his chambers.

Acacius made his way down the stairs of his balcony, his heart beating faster with each step, filled with excitement and curiosity. As he made his way down the last step and drew closer to you, he was a little disappointed to see your eyes were closed. He was curious to see those eyes he'd seen in the tent before. He approached you and leaned in, looking at the beautiful girl sleeping peacefully, waiting for you to open your eyes, just as you were waiting for him then. He looked at your wrist and, gently grasping it, was pleased to see the bruises. His fingers matched the purple spots, as if they were meant to be there.

You felt pressure on your wrist where the bruise was. You opened your eyes, not because of the pain, but because you were already dreaming about it, remembering that moment. When you realized that his face was just a few inches away from yours, you opened your eyes wide in surprise. You wondered if you were still dreaming. His dark brown eyes had taken over yours, making it impossible to look away. Then his perfectly-shaped lips curled into a wide smile.

"So it was you," he said with soft voice.

You were rendered speechless. You attempted to rise to your feet, but he grasped your shoulders gently, maintaining eye contact with you.

"I made a mistake. I apologize," you mumbled.

"Mistake? You healed me, so there's no mistake or reason to apologize.” He smirked and stood up, holding out his hand. Despite your initial hesitation, you took his hand and got to your feet.

"I shouldn't have slept here like this," you said, embarrassed, as you shook your dress out to get rid of the leaves and dirt.

“It was such a treat to watch,” he smiled at your surprised face and turned around heading to the stairs. "Come with me," he beckoned you, not asking, but commanding.

You followed him without complaint, though your tension has increased. Acacius entered his room and waited for you to come in. As you entered from the balcony, you saw the armor he had just taken off on the right. Beyond that was a desk and chair, then a small table and two chairs, and in the other corner, a large bed and a closet.

Tullia came in with a tray of food, knocking on the door of his room first.

She opened her eyes in surprise when she saw you.

"I've been looking for you all over. What have you been up to?"

Before you could respond, he ordered, "Leave us alone and let me know when the bath is ready.”

“Yes master," she said, giving you a quick look before she left.

"Are you hungry?" he asked while pouring wine into a cup.

You shook your head no but it was a lie, your eyes were on the food, swallowing. He smirked, sat down in a chair, and took a sip of wine. "Sit," he indicated the chair opposite him with a gesture.

When you didn't, he frowned. "I know you're hungry. Come," he said, his voice unyielding this time.

You approached and sat across from him, avoiding eye contact meanwhile.

"Eat," he commanded, pointing to the spoon.

You took a spoonful of food you had never seen before, but it looked delicious. As soon as you put it in your mouth and swallowed, you felt the bite reach your empty stomach. Realizing how hungry you were, you quickly took another bite, surprised even by yourself.

He watched you closely, his eyes were on your hands. With a quick move, he grabbed your other hand gently, and placed it in his palm, as if measuring sizes. "These fingers are too thin to be a medicus," he muttered, looking at you. "How did you become a medicus? It must have been very difficult for you as a woman."

As you swallowed the morsel, he poured another glass of wine and handed it to you. You were taken aback by his unexpected politeness, but took the cup from his hand, then took a quick sip.

"My uncle taught me everything I know, sir," you confessed.

"This Medicus was your uncle?"

"He was, yes," you almost whispered, the mention of him having renewed your pain. He studied your face, reading your expression.

"May the Gods bless his soul and grant him sustenance in Elysium. I’ve never met him, but thanks to his knowledge I am still breathing, I will be grateful to him until the last moment of my life.”

As he speaks, you sense a sincerity in his voice that helps to ease your pain a little. You are surprised that you do not feel the same resentment towards him as you did before. His words seem to console you.

“You're not his slave, then. Who are you?"

He looked at you with unwavering eyes, waiting for your answer.

“I am Aya the orphan, a girl who was found on the banks of the Nile when little and raised by the man I called uncle, sir,” you stated frankly, but he appeared perplexed.

Acacius leaned back, still looking at you ‘Aya’ he murmured himself. ‘It's a name I've never heard before, I wish to know its meaning.’ He crossed his arms.

“This name I was given to me by my uncle and his deceased wife means ‘miracle.’ I believe they thought I was sent to them by the Gods.” You looked at him, feeling uneasy. “I think it’s-.”

“It's beautiful,” he completed your sentence in his way, and you took another sip from your cup, feeling his eyes still on you.

“You said you were an orphan? You don't know your mother or father? Your uncle must have found out why they abandoned you in the river.”

You shook your head, you didn't know, but he didn't seem to be satisfied with that answer. He put his cup down on the table, then stood up and walked over to you.

"Your uncle, or the man who found you, raised you as a medicus until this age. You probably had to wear men's clothes all the time. He let you live as a man, not as a woman. More, he never wanted you to marry a man," you noticed that he said the word 'marry' in a different tone. You felt like he was interrogating you also startled as he knelt beside you. "Like he's hiding you from something or someone.”

He was waiting for an answer, but his face being so close made you tense up. You had to take a moment before answering him.

“I was pleased with helping other people, curing them as a medicus, sir. He never forced me to do anything I don’t want to.” You were confident and sincere, and he could hear it in your tone.

He stood up abruptly, “I see,” he murmured still thinking about it. There was a knock at the door. They informed him that his bath was ready. "I want you to accompany me," he said suddenly, his smile making your heart race but you were trying to figure out the best way to decline his offer gently and respectfully.

"Sir, I-“

“Since I’m so tired, I want you to help me bathe, and as my medicus, you should check my wound, right?”

"That makes me your medicus as well as your slave," you frowned at him.

He approached you with a bold move that made you jump, but he had a mischievous look on his face. "I'm gonna have to get completely undressed for both, so."

Your cheeks flushed and you tried to look away, but you knew he was right and you hated it.

He opened the door and gestured for you to follow him, you took a deep breath and followed him. Norell smiled when she noticed you going downstairs, but you couldn't smile back, following him to the bathhouse made you nervous.

As you moved from the courtyard to the other, to the west wing, you could tell by the smells that the kitchen was there. It’s because of the hot water circulation, just opposite the kitchen was the balneum (small bath house). There was no separate bath house in your uncle's small house, so you had to go to the Egyptian bath house three or four times a week to bathe.

Tullia pushed the door open for you two to enter. Acacius told her to leave you two alone and closed the door after you entered. The hot water was ready, and the balneum was filled with the scent of various oils and essences that dissipated in the steam with the heat of the water. Since you were well-versed in herbs, you could easily tell which scents belonged to which flowers by their aroma.

When you saw Acacius heading for the bathtub, you clenched your dress in your hands. It was scorching hot inside and you were sweating buckets. He turned to you, and you knew from the look in his eyes that he was asking you to come closer. You walked towards him, trying your best not to think about anything else but his wound. He grabbed your fingers and led them to the hem of his burgundy tunic, making you grasp it. He watched you patiently as you tried to stay calm, pulling the tunic up to check his wound. He seemed to enjoy it when he noticed you were tense.

“I need to take it off completely. Could you?" he said in a soft, gentle voice.

You took a deep breath and pulled the tunic from his head with trembling hands, letting it fall to the ground, trying to ignore the fact that he was completely naked in front of you. You concentrated on his abdomen where his wound was, trying not to look down at his lower parts. As your fingers traced his abdomen to check his wound, his eyes wandered over your face, admiring your beauty.

“It is almost completely healed on the surface, sir, but it may take a little longer to heal completely from the inside. If you feel any pain or inflammation, I may need to make a herbal ointment,” you said as your eyes caught by his.

He brought his face closer to yours and you felt the heat radiating from his lips. You could feel the steamy air and your sweat making your dress a little damp. His hot breath caressed your neck, making your heart race and you almost gave yourself to him to take you, but you managed to pull yourself back.

Acacius chuckled, turned, and sat down in the bathtub. The water rose with his weight, and some flowers floating on the surface hit the edge.

He seemed to relax, threw his head back, and closed his eyes, making a gesture with his hand.

“Rub my back a little, maybe your soft, healing hands can take away some of the pain.”

“That sounds more like the work of a slave than a medic," you muttered, he ignored you but you could see his lips curl into a half smile.

When you touched his shoulders with your fingers he sighed, you tried not to care but he seemed strangely pleased, a soft moan escaping his lips as you rubbed in gentle strokes. Your eyes traced the scars on his body, wondering how he got them.

“The God Asclepius must have endowed you with his healing powers," he purred. How can I repay the owner of these fingers that healed me?”

Suddenly, you stop rubbing his back and glare at his face behind his partially curly and gray hair, trying to think of something to say.

“I wish you would set me free," you bit your lower lip, wondering if it was too much to ask.

Acacius opened his eyes. "You have no family to go to, do you wish to return to your home and live all alone?

He was right. Even if you went back to your home, you wouldn't have an uncle or anyone to live with. You had to face this truth and you hated it. He turned his head to you, "Shall I give you a chance to choose?”

You tilted your head to look at him, the steamy air making your throat dry.

“If you don't want to be my slave, why don't you live here as my medicus? I am a soldier and a warrior, I may need your help in the future.” As he turned his body fully towards you in the tub, some of the squashed water ran out and soaked the hem of your dress.

“Wouldn't you stay here to heal me?”

“But I am a woman, sir, I cannot be a medicus, no one would call me that.”

“As long as you are under my roof, you will be called that,” he said in a reassuring tone.

“But I will remain your slave outside this roof?”

“You will, yes.”

“And will you set me free one day?”

“No,” he said loudly, his voice echoed off the marble walls.

When you sighed and pouted, his large hand cupped your chin, then slowly slid to your neck to your shoulder, moving to the fabric of your dress, clearly trying to gauge your reaction meanwhile. You grabbed his hand and stopped it as he peeled the fabric over your shoulder, "I choose to be your medicus, not your slave, sir.”

“Very well,” Acacius snickered, grabbed your wrist this time, and looked closely at the bruise. “It seems to be healing,” his fingers rubbing your bruise, somehow you didn’t feel angry, you liked it when he touched you with his big strong fingers like only they can heal it.

“I won't touch you against your will,” he assured you. Then he pulled his hand away and laid back, closed his eyes again. “You may leave now,” he said coldly as if trying to calm himself.

You were grateful, but you couldn't ignore the feeling of his absence on your skin. But you did as he said, left him alone in the balneum and went out. You shivered as the fresh air hit your almost wet body as Norell approached you with dry and clean clothes in her arms.

“Is he coming out?”

“No, he asked me to leave him alone.” You wiped the sweat from your forehead with the back of your hand.

That night in your new room under the roof of your new home, after a long talk with her, you waited patiently for Norell to fall asleep, but your eyes were so heavy you couldn't keep them open any longer.

You were planning to open the letter when you woke up, but you never got around to it. It was not as easy as it seemed to be alone in this big villa.

But since you saw the General leaving the house in a hurry in the morning, you knew his room was the best place to be. No one could get into his room while he was away, and this was your only chance. You were told he would be back late in the evening, so you had time to open the letter.

You weren't sure what to expect, but you were determined to find out. You considered the possibility that your true family might be wealthy or even royal. But why did they want to push you away or abandon you? What did the previous emperor's seal mean? Why did he seal with his own? Was it normal for him to put his own seal on every letter? There were so many possibilities and questions but you were tired of thinking. You were going to open it as soon as possible, find out everything, and move on.

In the villa, everyone was preoccupied with their morning chores, so it was simple to slip away unnoticed. You were already on a mission to collect the dirty laundry and bring it downstairs to the wash, so you had a good excuse if you got caught.

You strode into the general's room, took a quick look around, and put the dirty laundry he had taken off into the laundry basket in your hand. Then you put the laundry basket aside and sat down on the floor next to it. When you were sure that no one was coming, you took out the letter you had tucked between your chest and the fabric of your dress and started to read.

You took a deep breath, carefully pulled and removed the rope around the letter without harming the seal, then lifted it, which belonged to the previous emperor Septimius Severus, and opened the letter. You saw the letters clearly written in neat handwriting.

“My dearest child, my beloved daughter blessed with golden hair and hazel eyes. The irises of your eyes are a soft brown hue, with a greenish tint, as if they contained the nascent growth of spring.

Gazing into your eyes, I see Rome, the beautiful and prosperous days that await her. You bestow joy and fortitude upon me, enabling me to actualize this vision. It is my ardent aspiration to ensure your collective felicity and to witness your growth and prosperity. It has been a considerable span of time since I lost your mother, my esteemed wife, the resplendent Paccia Marciana. I am yet to fully acclimate to her absence, but I had to remarry because I had to have an heir. I don't want to offend you, my pretty, golden-haired daughter. I do not intend to accuse you of being a girl. I hope you won't misunderstand me child, but I'm afraid it's not possible for you to stay in Rome. Julia is not as understanding as your mother Marciana. My son Geta is even less so. He is a very cruel boy. I am concerned that when I ascend to the Gods to the Elysium and he is on the throne, he may be troubled by your presence and do you harm. I cannot allow them to harm you in memory of your mother, so I must send you away from them, away from all. I have placed my old friend Vibius, the medicus from my youth, in the land of Egypt. I believe you will be safe with him. It would be best for you to be as far away from here as possible. I truly hope that Geta will rule Rome well. I am not entirely certain, but I sincerely wish to believe that he will.

And I hope that when you are a young girl, reading this letter, you will understand my reasons for sending you away. You are my firstborn child, my only daughter with spring eyes and golden hair, the first of the name Septimia Aurelia, who brought blessings to Rome the year she was born. And you will always remain so my sweet child.

Your father,

Imperator Caesar Lucius Septimius Severus Pertinax Augustus.” 

You read each sentence again and again to make sure you hadn't read it wrong. Everything was correct. You closed your eyes and threw your head back, and you knew it was real, not imagined. You sat there, detached from time and reality, as tears rolled down your cheeks and dripped onto the letter you were holding with trembling hands. Your life began to pass before your eyes piece by piece, the lush green fields where you used to run around with joy as a little girl, the people you called uncle and aunt who raised you with love, always protecting you from the outside, keeping you away from other people, your uncle taking you on as an apprentice when you were very young and teaching you all his knowledge, buying you flashy girl's clothes on the condition that you only wear them at home when you wanted to wear them, insisting that you always wear a cloak when you went out in public, all of these were completed like the missing pieces that brought you back to where you belonged.

You wished you had never opened the letter, never imagining that the truth would hurt so much and leave you so helpless. You had no home to go to, your Empress mother and Emperor father were no longer alive. In their place were your Emperor brothers and their mother, your stepmother, and your father had warned you about them in no uncertain terms.

The word "Emperor" will forever hold a new meaning for you. Everything you knew, everything you learned, everything you lived, felt different now. But you were the same person. It was unreasonable to expect you to be anyone else, regardless of what your name was.

As you wiped away your tears, you heard voices outside and swiftly folded the letter back into its original shape. You didn't have time to hide it. Your first thought was to put it into the general's wooden chest full of papyrus, empty envelopes, and papers. You would come and get it later.

“What are you doing here?”

The last thing you expected to hear was the General's voice yet he was there, had opened the door looking at you curiously. He was wearing an all-white tunic, white leather armor and a white shawl that fluttered like angel wings in the wind behind his shoulders, all embroidered with gold. Seeing him like that you forgot the shock you just had, he was looking breathtaking. Suddenly you realized that you didn't answer his question, so you quickly picked up the basket. “I'm here to pick up the laundry, sir,” you said bowing your head, hoping he wouldn't be suspicious.

“I thought you chose to be a medicus and not a slave,” he said as he approached you. “Let the others do it, come with me now.” He grabbed your wrist and pulled you out of the room with a serious look on his face, hurried down the stairs, and stopped to call Norell out as he observed your clothes. "Dress her properly," he ordered.

While you were trying to figure out what was going on, Norell held your hand and led you to the dressing room to do his bidding. She opened the wardrobe took out some fabrics, all white, and placed them on a chair in the room. You couldn't help but ask when you saw that the clothes were different from the last time.

“Why am I wearing these?” you asked her curiously.

“Today's a bit special.”

You were startled to hear the General's voice just outside the door.

“And the color of the dress you're wearing has to match mine.”

How can I match his charm, you thought, it wasn’t possible.

You didn't mind being naked in front of Norell, but knowing the General was just outside the door made you a little nervous. Norell sensed your unease and giggled, then she helped you put on a white tunic, then a peplos (long dress) of the same color and a gold embroidered palla over your shoulders, then tied it around your slim waist and put the other part over your head. She was an expert, or so you felt because it was the first time you had ever worn this kind of dress. You felt as if the wish you had made as a little girl had come true. Norell combed your hair, first downwards and slightly side parted, then combed it again, then braided it, took a piece from the front left and twisted it round the back of your head. She secured the twist inside the braid by inserting a wire barrette inside the braid and finished the braid, letting it hang over one shoulder. When she was finished she looked at you and smiled, “You look beautiful. Now all that's left are the accessories.”

The General opened the door, he eyed you up to down, then grabbed your arm gently. He gestured to Norell, and soon she returned bearing a box containing a gold bracelet and assorted jewelry which produced a tinkling sound when she moved.

“Sir, these don't look like something a slave would wear,” you were surprised.

Acacius quickly put the bracelets on your upper arm and wrists. “My slave wears whatever I want,” he said firmly, his gaze fixed on you one last time, a confident smile on his face. You felt your cheeks flush, but the word ‘slave’ bothered you more than before. Yet you still couldn't be angry with the General, not when he was dressed like this.

“But where exactly are we going?”

“To the place where the ceremony will take place, then to the Colosseum. Come on, get your sandals on, we have to hurry.”

Norell appeared beside you, lifted your foot, and helped you quickly put on the sandals, despite your insistence.

“Looks pretty,” he pushed back a few strands of hair that had fallen on your forehead with a gentle touch then you weren't sure whether he was in a hurry or impatient, he put his arm around you and pulled you out of the courtyard with quick steps.

“I saw you leaving, this morning,” you said while Acacius tugged and pulled the shawl he was sitting on with his hands to feel comfortable.

He cleared his throat. “That’s right,” he looked at you. “I didn't want you to miss a day like this, so I came back for you,” he admitted. How could he be such a charming, gentle, and at the same time dangerous warrior? You also wondered how all your anger, all your resentment towards him had passed so quickly.

“I'm grateful, sir,” you said sincerely, he smiled at you.

As soon as the carriage entered the alleys of the Capitoline Hill, one noticed that the streets were full of people, just like yesterday. It was as if no one had returned home and spent the night on the streets. Soon as the carriage approached Via Sacra Street, you realized you were wrong, it was even more crowded than yesterday. In Egypt, such crowds only gathered on special occasions and religious festivals. However, you were not used to being in a crowd, walking freely in the streets, especially when you were dressed as a woman. Despite having resolved the queries that had troubled you since childhood, you still felt unfulfilled. It was not that you held any resentment towards anyone, but your father and uncle both tried to do you good in their way, but you still couldn't help feeling wronged. Somewhere deep in your heart, a voice kept telling you that something was wrong, and it grew louder with each passing moment. What your uncle had said to you kept echoing in your head. “You’re going to have to choose.”

But what were you going to choose? To go to your emperor brothers and explain everything and have them give you official recognition and hope that they don't kill you as a result, or to go back to Egypt as if nothing had happened and live as before, far away from everyone and everything?

“What makes you think so much? I wonder.”

At the general's voice, all your thoughts dissipated like a cloud of dust. You had almost forgotten that you were in the cart together and that he was sitting in the seat opposite you like a statue of a god.

“I'm a little nervous, sir,” you said honestly.

“Nervous about seeing the Colosseum for the first time?”

He was right, that was one of the reasons, but the real reason was the thought of seeing your half-brothers in the flesh.

“Yes,” you clenched the fabric of your dress.

“We'll be there after the ceremony, I'd love to have you with me but the slaves and others will be watching from the stands upstairs. I could ask the emperors for special permission for you to stand beside me, but I am concerned that your beauty will inevitably attract their attention,” there was not the slightest trace of humor in his voice. It would have worked in your favour, if you didn't feel ready to face your stepbrothers.

“Sir, it's not a problem really, I'll watch from where I'm supposed to be,” you said with a half smile.

“The more I can keep you away from them the better,” he murmured vaguely, peering out from behind the curtain. “Here we are.”

When the carriage stopped, the crowd's enthusiasm rose, Acacius stood up and came in front of you, a serious expression on his face as he reached for your hand and grasped it.

“It is no longer possible for me to hold your hand and for us to walk side by side, you can follow me at a distance.” He stroked your fingers with his thumb, withdrew his hand, and got out of the carriage.

You looked at him as he got out, his shawl fluttering in the wind behind him, caressing the steps of the cart.

“Sir!” Octavius ran towards him through the crowd, cheerful. You watched the two of them with their backs turned, talking to each other, the crowd chanting the General's name. Then they both turned their heads back towards you, Acacius nodded for you to come out, no one was looking at you anyway, and all the attention was on him, you took a deep breath and climbed down out of the carriage. Acacius and Octavius made sure you got out and began walking forward. As you walked behind them, keeping your eye distance, you could hear people talking and chanting. You couldn't help but wonder if one day if something happened and you sat on the throne as the emperor's daughter, would they cheer for you like that? You shook your head and tried to dismiss the absurd thought.

Acacius and Octavius were joined by other soldiers, and it was clear from the crowd that there were many people from different social classes. The wealthy, the nobles, the dignitaries, the craftsmen, and the slaves. Looking at them, you realized your clothes seemed strange to you. They had almost no jewelry on their sleeves; they were ordinary. But here, slaves could accompany their masters or enter the Colosseum, unlike in Egypt. The crowd also included women, nobles who looked at you with a piercing gaze. At first, you were perplexed by their actions. But when you looked them up and down, you saw the problem: jealousy. In Egypt, everyone ignored you, thinking you were a thin young boy in a strange cloak. Here in Rome, you were a beautifully dressed young girl, the envy of even the noblewomen. Life should be full of miracles and surprises.

The Roman triumph was a civil ceremony and religious rite of ancient Rome, held to publicly celebrate and sanctify the success of a military commander who had led Roman forces to victory in the service of the state or, in some historical traditions, one who had successfully completed a foreign war.

The venue for the ceremony was the Temple of Jupiter Optimus Maximus, one of the most important temples in the capital. Most Roman festivals were calendar fixtures, tied to the worship of particular deities. While the triumphal procession culminated at Jupiter's temple on the far end of the Via Sacra (sacred road) in the Roman Forum, the procession itself, attendant feasting, and public games promoted the general's status and achievement. In effect, the general was close to being "king for a day", and possibly close to divinity.

Accompanied by the red rose petals thrown to him to honor him, the General ascended the white marble stairs of the temple with quick steps, shining like pearls in the sun. At that moment you immediately recognised them, they were not unnoticeable anyway, your half-brothers, the emperors, approached the General. They were dressed in white and gold, just like him. From their appearance, it was not difficult to guess which one was Geta and which one was Caracalla. The general greeted them with a hand pressed to his chest and Geta gently placed the golden crown of laurel leaves on his head. While everyone was shouting and cheering with enthusiasm, you suddenly felt a pain somewhere deep in your chest. You deserved to be with them, you wanted to be, it was your birthright. But your emperor father had to take you away, was it because you were not a man? He had asked you not to blame him, not to be angry with him, but you couldn't help it, as they stood there in all their reality you realized that you really had to choose. If not now, one day. Looking at him from a distance, Caracalla raised his hands towards the people and spoke, and you wondered if your father's warning about him had been right. His hair was the same colour as yours, but his face was different. His eyes were wide with excitement and eagerness. He didn't seem so bad besides you knew it was wrong to judge a person at first glance.

You soon realized that there was some tension between him and the priest next to him, Geta raised his hand to silence him, which was very rude and disrespectful. Obviously, your half-brother was not a man of religious tradition.

“Now that our ceremony is finally over, are we ready to watch the big games?”

The whole crowd let out a roar of excitement, and it was clear that everyone was just as pumped as he was.

“Then let's head to the Colosseuuuuuuuuuuum!” he shouted and pointed in the direction of the Colosseum with his right hand.

“Our gladiators are waitiiiiiiiing!” Caracalla joined him in shouting, their voices blending and echoing throughout Capitoline Hill.

You bit your lip to keep from laughing when you realised that the General was smiling forcibly as he applauded him, you could see how annoyed he was with them. Fighting all these emotions inside you, you had neglected to pay attention to the general, but if anyone dazzled you more than anyone else, it was him. With his golden crown on his head, he was more than an emperor, he was like a God, the son of Mars, Marcus himself, who more than lived up to his name. He was glamorous, sending his radiance first into your eyes and then sending vibrations deep into your chest. As your heart beat faster than ever, you wondered if this was what love felt like. If love wasn't what this man was making you feel this way, what else could it be? You could only guess because no one had ever advised you to do so. So you realised that you wanted to remain this man's slave until you die without revealing your identity.

Now that the crowd was heading away from the temple towards the Colosseum, you followed them. You tried to keep the general and Octavius in sight, but it was difficultPeople were hurrying along, bumping into you. As people rushed past, you wanted to go to another direction to avoid getting lost, you passed more people and got closer to the temple, and you looked for him. You saw the Emperors and General were going down the road in a chariot. You were about to run after them when the senators came down the stairs. And then your eyes met with a dark-browned skin member of the senate, he looked at you with wide eyes. You looked away and went into the crowd because he was coming towards you. But more people were coming from the road, so you turned left and went behind the temple to hide. When you reached the corner wall, you looked back and saw no one. Then someone called out to you as you headed towards the other road. You ignored him, but this time he called you by name. “Wait, Aurelia!”

You froze in shock. That was your real name, and you thought everyone who knew it was dead. You turned your head with curiosity and saw the man from earlier running towards you. You gripped the dress fabric in your hands feeling extremely nervous. The man was panting as he approached. "Is it really you?"

You swallowed hard. "I'm sorry, sir, but I think you mistaken me for someone else."

The man looked you in the eye and smiled with confidence. "I'd recognise those eyes anywhere, it's you." He was observing your hair. "Septimia Aurelia, do you know how much I have searched for you, my lady?"

@myownwholewildworld @orcasoul @pedroslut4eva @immyowndefender @lailathepedritofan @screechingchildfury

if anyone wants me to tag them please comment :) thank you all <3

[pedropascalisruiningmylife]

under the texas sun;

summary: the miller family enjoys a peaceful afternoon, driving through the texas countryside to ellie's softball game. joel lightens the mood with dad jokes, and the family settles into the familiar, comforting routine of a weekend at the ballpark. as they cheer ellie on, a sense of contentment fills the air, but beneath the tranquil scene, an unexpected storm looms just beyond the horizon.

wordcount: 1.8k

previous chapter

part: 2/?

warnings: deaf character. established relationship. DAD JOKES!!! enjoy the last of the fluff before it all goes to shit.

As the Miller family continued their drive to the softball field, the earlier tension in the car began to dissipate like morning mist under the Texas sun. The SUV hummed along the winding country roads, its tires crunching over the occasional patch of gravel. Joel adjusted his grip on the steering wheel, casting a quick glance in the rearview mirror to check on the kids. The familiar landscape of their small town unfurled around them—endless stretches of golden wheat fields swaying gently in the breeze, clusters of towering oak trees providing sprawling canopies of shade, and the distant silhouette of farmhouses dotting the horizon. "Why did the scarecrow win an award?" Joel asked suddenly, breaking the comfortable silence.

Ellie looked up from the softball mitt she was meticulously re-lacing. "I don't know, why?" she responded, a hint of a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.

"Because he was outstanding in his field," Joel delivered the punchline with a playful grin.

A chorus of groans filled the car, but Ellie couldn't suppress a giggle. Even Sarah, seated beside Ellie and gazing out the window, turned to give her father a fondly exasperated look. She caught his eye in the mirror, and Joel signed to her, "Dad joke," winking as he did so.

Sarah rolled her eyes dramatically but smiled, her fingers moving as she signed back, "Terrible joke, Dad."

Anna chuckled softly from the passenger seat, her hand resting lightly on her lap. She turned slightly to face Joel. "You're incorrigible," she said affectionately, her eyes shining.

"Just trying to lighten the mood," he replied, his Texan drawl wrapping around each word like a warm embrace.

Tommy, ever the inquisitive five-year-old, leaned forward in his booster seat. "Dad, what's incorrigible mean?" he asked, stumbling slightly over the unfamiliar word.

"It means your dad can't help himself," Anna explained, turning to smile at her youngest. She reached back to tousle his hair, and he grinned, satisfied with the answer.

The road dipped and rose gently, taking them over a small hill that offered a panoramic view of the town below. The afternoon sun bathed everything in a golden glow, casting long shadows that danced across the fields. The earlier unease from the strange sight in the sky was now a distant memory, replaced by the comforting routine of a Saturday spent at the ballpark.

"Hey, look! Mrs. Henderson put up new scarecrows," Ellie pointed out, gesturing toward a neighboring farm where several straw figures stood sentinel over the crops.

"Probably to replace the award-winning one," Joel quipped, earning another round of groans.

As they pulled into the gravel parking lot of the softball field, the lively atmosphere embraced them like an old friend. The sounds of children laughing echoed in the air, mingling with the metallic ping of aluminum bats connecting with softballs and the enthusiastic cheers of parents and coaches alike. Brightly colored team uniforms dotted the landscape, and a gentle breeze carried the scent of freshly cut grass and concession stand hot dogs.

Joel maneuvered the SUV into a parking spot under the shade of a sprawling pecan tree. Shifting into park, he exhaled a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding—a subtle release of lingering tension.

Anna was already unbuckling her seatbelt with practiced ease. "Alright, team, we've got a game to win," she announced, turning to face the back seat. Her eyes met Sarah's, and she signed, "We're here! Ready to cheer on your sister?"

Sarah nodded enthusiastically, her fingers moving rapidly. "Can I take pictures?" she signed.

"Of course," Anna replied, both speaking and signing. "It's in my bag. Just be careful with it."

Tommy was practically vibrating with energy, his feet kicking excitedly against the seat. "Swings! Swings!" he chanted, his arms stretching toward the door.

"Hold your horses, little man," Anna laughed, reaching back to unbuckle his booster seat. As she lifted him out of the car, he wrapped his arms around her neck, his eyes wide with anticipation.

"Mommy, push me super high!" he exclaimed, his voice ringing with pure joy.

"Only if you promise to hold on tight," she teased, booping his nose. She glanced over at Joel, her eyes softening. "We'll be over at the playground if you need us."

Joel nodded, a silent understanding passing between them. "You two have fun," he said, his voice warm. He watched as Anna and Tommy made their way toward the playground, her hand securely holding his as he skipped alongside her.

Turning his attention back to the car, Joel found Ellie already out and bouncing on the balls of her feet. Her auburn hair was pulled back into a neat ponytail, and her green eyes sparkled with excitement. She clutched her glove in one hand and a softball in the other.

Joel signed as he spoke, ensuring Sarah was included. "Well, we better get you over there so you can show 'em how it's done."

Ellie grinned broadly, her confidence radiating. "I'm gonna strike them all out," she signed to Sarah, who gave her a thumbs-up and an encouraging smile.

Sarah smiled and gave her a thumbs-up. "I have no doubt about that," she signed, filled with pride.

Ellie turned to Joel, her expression determined. "Thanks for bringing me, Dad," she signed, her eyes shining with gratitude. "I'm really glad you're here to watch me play."

Joel's heart swelled with affection for his daughter. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her into a brief hug. "Wouldn't miss it for the world, kiddo," he said, his voice gruff with emotion.

He grabbed Ellie's equipment bag from the trunk, slinging it over his shoulder. "Let's go find your coach."

As they walked toward the field, the late afternoon sun cast a warm glow over everything. The scent of freshly mowed grass filled the air, and a cluster of butterflies fluttered past, momentarily capturing Ellie's attention.

"Dad, look!" she pointed, her face lighting up.

"Monarchs," Joel noted, pausing to watch the delicate creatures.

Ellie watched them for a moment before turning back to the task at hand. "Come on, we don't want to be late!" she urged, picking up her pace.

They reached the dugout where Coach Ramirez stood organizing the team. The coach, a tall woman with a friendly smile, greeted them with a wave. "Ellie! Ready to play today?" she called out.

"More than ready!" Ellie replied, her excitement palpable.

"Good to hear. Let's get you warmed up," Coach Ramirez said, gesturing toward the field.

Joel handed over Ellie's bag. "Give 'em hell, kiddo," he said with a wink.

With Ellie settled, Joel turned back toward the SUV, spotting Sarah diligently unpacking the snacks. Her movements were methodical, each item placed with care into a reusable tote bag. He walked over, his boots crunching softly on the gravel.

"Need a hand, baby girl?" he asked, crouching down beside her. He signed the question, ensuring his words were accessible to her.

Sarah looked up, a small smile playing on her lips. "Yes, please," she signed. "There's a lot to carry."

"Well, it's a good thing you've got me," he replied, his fingers articulating each word clearly. He lifted the heavier bags, leaving the lighter ones for her.

As they made their way across the field toward the concession area, the sun cast long shadows, and the sounds of the game starting filled the air. The national anthem played over the tinny speakers, and everyone paused, hands over hearts. Joel and Sarah stopped walking, turning toward the flag. Sarah watched the singer's lips, her hand over her heart as she absorbed the moment.

After the anthem concluded, they continued to the snack table. Other parents were bustling about, setting up displays of baked goods and coolers filled with drinks. Sarah began arranging their contributions neatly, her attention to detail evident in the precise alignment of each item.

"You're really good at this," Joel observed, his admiration clear.

Sarah looked up, her cheeks flushing slightly. "Mom taught me," she signed modestly.

"Well, you both have a knack for making things look nice," he replied, signing. "Maybe you should go into event planning."

She laughed silently, her eyes sparkling. "Maybe."

They finished setting up, and Joel noticed Sarah glancing toward the playground where Anna and Tommy were. "Want to go join Mom and Tommy?" he asked.

She shook her head. "I want to watch Ellie pitch," she signed. "It's her first time starting."

"Good idea," Joel agreed. "Let's find a good spot."

They chose a place along the first baseline, where they had a clear view of the pitcher's mound. As they settled onto the bleachers, Sarah pulled out Anna's camera from her bag.

"Mind if I take some pictures?" she signed.

"Go right ahead," Joel encouraged. "Capture the moment."

The game began with Ellie taking the mound. She stood tall, her expression focused as she adjusted her cap.

As the game began, Ellie took the mound, her confidence radiating from every inch of her. She bounced the ball a few times, getting a feel for it, before winding up and throwing a perfect pitch. The crowd erupted in cheers as the batter struck out.

Joel watched as Sarah captured the moment, her fingers moving quickly over the camera's buttons. She had an eye for composition, and her shots were sharp and well-framed.

"She's got a good arm," a voice beside Joel remarked. He turned to see Mr. Thompson, another parent, taking a seat nearby.

"That she does," Joel agreed, his eyes never leaving the field.

As the innings progressed, Ellie continued to dominate, her pitches swift and accurate. Sarah documented each play, her excitement evident in the way she eagerly showed Joel the shots she'd captured after each inning.

"Look, Dad," she signed, scrolling through the images. "This one is my favorite."

Joel leaned in, appreciating the photo of Ellie mid-pitch, her face a mask of determination. "That's a keeper," he agreed. "You have a real talent."

She beamed at the compliment, her joy infectious.

During a brief intermission, Anna and Tommy joined them. Tommy clambered onto Joel's lap, his cheeks flushed from play. "Ellie's winning!" he announced, bouncing slightly.

"She sure is," Joel replied, wrapping an arm around his son. "You having fun with Mom?"

"Yeah! I went so high on the swings!" Tommy exclaimed, stretching his arms upward to demonstrate.

Anna settled beside Joel, her hand resting lightly on his knee. "He's going to sleep well tonight," she said with a chuckle.

"That's the plan," Joel teased. He glanced at Anna, noting the contentment in her eyes. "Enjoying the game?"

"Very much," she replied, her gaze drifting to Ellie on the field. "She's really shining out there."

Joel nodded, his heart full of pride for their daughter. "She's definitely enjoying the attention," he said, his eyes tracking Ellie as she joined her team for a huddle before the next inning. "But it's good to see her so confident and focused."

Anna leaned into Joel, her head resting against his shoulder, and he wrapped his arm around her, savoring the moment. Despite the loud cheers and occasional clamor from the other parents, there was a sense of tranquility surrounding their little family—a feeling of being completely at peace in this tiny corner of the world.

Tagging everyone who showed interest on a previous post! @berrygoesprivate @lanaispunk @pillowpantsxoxo @midnightbabylon

@madswhoo

@olive1l

@ryuzakemo128

@papichulo-pascalito

@iamsherlocked-1998

@emystappen

@pascalishottt

@eternallyvenus

[tarithenurse]

Pirate's Bounty II

Fandom: MCU AU

Pairing/starring: 1st mate!Bucky x Pirate princess!reader

Word count: 1128

Content: Smut

A/N: Woopsie! Wrote a part 2. Hope you’re okay with that.

Pirate’s Bounty II

Sharing a room at the inn, the Pirate’s Cove, was Bucky’s idea of safety. Falling asleep fully dressed after the ball was not planned but she has slept wonderfully albeit rather brief.

Waking up, [Y/N]’s vaguely aware of the soft light coming through the curtains from the courtyard beyond. What’s more pressing, however, is the weight over her waist that holds her warm and snug against a hard shape behind her. Glancing around, she’s soon verified that it’s Bucky who has scooped her into his arm and drifted off on the comfortable bed before she woke.

Lying as still as she can, the captain considers disentangling herself but...it actually feels lovely. Safe. So instead she remains where she is, fingertips slowly caressing his knuckles until the light of dawn starts to fill the room and he wakes from his rest too.

Yawning. Stretching against her form. She can feel his muscles flex and his hip push against her behind, causing her to remember that night on the deck.

“Good morning,” the young woman whispers.

“Morning.” He pulls her closer, then freezes at the realization. But: “Shit, I fell asleep!”

She twists to look at him. “That’s what you take from this?”

He doesn’t bother to look sheepish even as he maintains his grip. “Figured I’d feel if you tried to sneak away.”

There’s a certain logic to it, of course, as offensive as it may be to be called out on something she very well might have done just months ago. But now no longer.

“I know I can’t do that,” she admits, turning her head away.

“You’ll get your freedom back some day,” he offers surprisingly kind.

She sighs. “And until then you’ll watch my back.”

“Please!” he grins mischievously, “I’ll watch all of you.”

“Bucky!” But she can’t help laughing softly.

He bends down, finding her mouth with his lips even as he mumbles a “pardon me, m’lady” against her.

She’s soft and pliable, greedily taking what he offers even as his large hand begins to roam, slipping under the soft top to explore the swell of her breasts before sliding along her hip and slowly but surely hoisting up the skirt.

“Get rid of this,” he growls, giving up on the many thin layers that keep sliding back.

[Y/N] gets to her feet, suddenly insecure but also driven by a need she’s only felt a few times now. Slipping the skirt down, she steps out of it as it pools on the floor, leaving her in naught but the top and her undies and that top is the next to go, slowly lifted over her head to bare her form to a hungry looking 1st mate. She’s about to get back into the bed when he shakes his head.

“All of it,” he demands.

Stepping back, she slides the little bit of modesty she has left down her legs, revealing all of her.

“And now?” she asks, voice whispier than she wants.

Getting over to her, Bucky allows his hands to brush down her arms before skimming up her sides to cup her breasts once more.

“Those bastards have no idea what they’re missing out on,” he growls, referring to her suitors

“Please don’t make me think of them now,” [Y/N] pleads.

He grins cockily. “Oh, I’ll take your mind off things.”

Next thing she knows, she’s been more or less tossed onto the bed, automatically spreading her legs to cradle Bucky between them even as he holds himself off of her.

This time the kiss is hungry. Searing. All teeth and tongue, little bites that wander down her jaw and onto her neck while her fingers tangle in his hair. She gasps when he takes a nipple in his mouth, suckling gently but hard enough to sting just a little and she knows she’s done for as the pressure within her increases, begging for more. Like a knot wanting to be cut.

But for one as brusque and direct, Bucky takes his time teasing and winding her up until she’s a whining mess, begging for more although his mouth and hands have been everywhere.

“More?” he double checks, looking up from where he’s kneeling between her legs, lips glistening from her juices. “Are you certain?”

She whimpers. “Yes. More. There must be more.”

About ready to cry when he steps out of the bed, the young woman is quickly silenced as she sees him untie his trousers revealing something she’s only seen once in real life and that in a different state. Now his cock stands erect, proud. Bobbing slightly at the newfound freedom but mostly scaring her with the sheer size.

“Come here,” he steps closer, reaching for her hand.

With him, she touches his erection for the first time, feeling how silken the skin is despite the hardness of the member. She explores, learning how it pulses when she touches beneath the head that’s a dark purple and slowly it becomes less scary.

Making her scoot over, Bucky lies down and guides his lover on top of him, slowly showing her how to pump the cock between her hands until she finds a rhythm that makes his eyes fall shut and the large man groan in pleasure.

“Fuck yeah...”

But he doesn’t allow her to continue, instead repositioning her with the tip of the cock nestled in between her legs right at the entrance to her cunt.

“Take it slow,” he guides her, “a bit at a time.”

Her heart is hammering in her chest as she slowly sinks onto him, spearing herself on the blunt tip. The stretch burns but it’s delicious too and each inch earns her growled praises from Bucky. Rocking back and forth, she eventually can’t take any more, she feels, and when she looks down, she finds that she’s fully seated on his cock. So full.

“Yeah?” he asks her.

“Fuck,” she sighs, gently gyrating the hips to really feel him in her heat.

Large hands find her hips, help her find a rhythm again. Slow and steady up and down until her thighs are burning and her body tenses and she can’t breathe or see but only arch her back in ecstasy.

“So fucking beautiful,” she vaguely hears him growl.

Then her world spins and she finds her beneath him, legs wrapped around his hips that move with a new purpose, bringing her high once more at the same time as he stutters in the movements and growls into her neck something guttural. Something primal.

Bucky manages not to collapse onto the considerably smaller female, instead rolling them so she rests on top. There, they just lie, catching their breaths.

“That was...” [Y/N] tries to articulate, “that was...amazing.”

“Fuck yeah it was,” the 1st mate agrees.

[p1nk-b1tes]

Daddy Kink? Embarrassed Gale?

yeah, let's do it.

nearly 2k words of gale discovering he has a daddy kink and being mortified by his new fantasies

Gale might just lose his mind. 

It’s Tav – lovely Tav – who just can’t help but test every ounce of patience and control that Gale is capable of today. It all started when they began their exploration of the blighted village that had been occupied by a never-ending horde of goblins and ogres. And if the arrow that had whizzed past his skull when he’d taken his first few steps past the border wall hadn’t been enough to set his nerves on fire, it had to have been when Tav failed to disarm a simple trapped chest in one of the crumbling cellars simply because they “wanted to try their hand at it.” Their rogue had been there the entire time (more than a safe distance away, understandably) and had nearly allowed Tav to blow themself up before Gale was forced to intervene at the last second before the thing actually went off. He hadn’t meant to yell at them, they were simply trying their hand at an amateur skill, but he’d certainly given them quite the talking-to about allowing Astarion to handle traps from then on out. 

“I appreciate your concern, Gale. I really do. But you don’t have to scold me for it as if you’re my father,” they’d said. 

And that had been the end of that. 

Except it hadn’t. 

Throughout the rest of the day Tav had managed to prove their unique ability to consistently avoid being careful at the worst of times, exhibit their clumsiness at regular intervals, and be generally entirely irresponsible for their own well-being. 

“There he is again – father to my rescue once again,” was their far-too-calm response when Gale politely informed them that they’d nearly set off a pressure plate that had been clearly visible in broad daylight. Astarion had laughed at their sarcasm, and so had Wyll, and Gale had continued forward through the crypt, frowning at the oddly strange feeling in his belly that sidled up to the sourness he felt at their response. He’d only been trying to help… 

And finally, when Tav nearly threw themselves over a crumbling edge into the whispering depths for a useless chunk of agate, Gale would’ve pulled them back to safety by their tunic’s collar if they hadn’t turned to him after he’d practically saved their life and said with their chest heaving from fear and their cheeks flushed crimson from adrenaline, “well shit, that was way too fucking close. Thanks, daddy.” 

Truthfully, Gale doesn’t know why he reacted the way he did. He should have been furious with how the previous hours of their day had gone. They’d nearly walked in circles for hours because of Wyll’s inability to follow a map, and had clawed through miles of cobwebs, dust, and dirt all so that Tav could nearly die three times and so Astarion could stake claim to some stupid dark-magic book they’d found that he knew absolutely nothing about. He should have expressed his discontent, to say the least – or should have shimmied the rest of the way off of the ledge and pulled his companions along with him – but no. Out of all of the things the wizard could have done, he’d frozen in place. Immobile and unable to form a coherent thought with the rest of his companions pressed shoulder-to-shoulder along the crumbling edge of the most terrifying drop he’s ever seen – he’d actually just frozen. 

He could feel his face turn red from the blood and embarrassment that had suddenly flooded into it, and he’d certainly felt it when what remained in his head suddenly rushed right down across his chest and into his dick. 

Tav had only called him daddy – they’d been calling him things like father all day long for his well-deserved scolding and lecturing and that was close enough! So why did that specific word turn his brain to mush and his cock into iron? He realizes with a mortifying lurch that the strange feeling he’d been feeling all day when they’d call him those stupid names wasn’t discomfort at all. He liked it. 

Oh, Gods, no. 

He likes it… 

Poor Wyll had already been shaking in the knees from being so high up above the unknown that loomed below and Gale could barely make out the sound of Astarion giving him quite the ear-full from beyond Tav’s opposite shoulder to “encourage” him to move, but to make matters even worse, Tav reaches out to grab him. They place their hand on his arm first, shaking gently to try and rouse him from his trance, and when that doesn’t work they toss their arm across the span of his chest as if they’re worried that their wizard may just lean forward and plummet all of a sudden. 

“Thanks, daddy…” 

His cock stiffens in his shorts almost immediately, his balls suddenly heavy, and then Gale is shimmying off of that ledge faster than his companions had ever seen him move before like an absolute fool. 

It’s been hours since Tav inadvertently scrambled his brain in the whispering depths and Gale can’t stop thinking about it. How he’d so un-heroically frozen in a terrible position and more so how Tav had allowed that word to slide so easily off of their tongue. They didn’t mean anything by it. It was entirely offhanded and playful, meant to ease the tension of Tav nearly losing their footing on the edge of what would have certainly been death, yet his brain continues to remind him it was anything but.  

Gods above, he can’t get the image out of his head – Tav, breathless and chest rising and falling wildly from the realization of a too-close call, their hand clamped around his forearm as he pulls them back towards the wall to reestablish their footing. And then there it is again. “Thanks, Daddy…” Even hours later his stomach still flips and flutters dangerously. 

Gale’s jaw clenches as he lies back on his bedroll and stares up at the ceiling of his tent. He tries not to focus on what’s happening below his waistband. 

He can’t shake it. His erection refuses to wane. He’s been hard since they uttered the word so nonchalantly and his cock refuses to allow him to forget how it sounded. In fact, his brain has distorted his memory into more of a fantasy. He’s heard Tav’s voice in his head for hours now in every intonation and at varying speeds. Now they’re whispering it into his ear, all slow and sultry like sweet molasses, and Gale is leaking a damp spot into the fabric of his trousers. 

The wizard clenches his fists across his belly and watches the shadows of the leaves as they print themselves into the canvas. His cock throbs. He leaks. He gives in. 

The wizard drops his hands towards his hips to free himself from his trousers and the rush of air that passes through his lips when his flushed, hot length makes contact with the cool air is absolutely divine. 

His companions are not far away. He can hear them as they dawdle around their camp, chatting and laughing about how ridiculously clumsy Tav was today. Someone says their name and Tav begins to laugh. 

“Daddy, daddy, daddy…” 

Gale groans, squeezing his eyes shut as if it’ll block out the noises in his head, and fists the base of his cock, squeezing and teasing himself and resisting the urge to curl in on himself when the pleasure zips up the length of his spine and into his throat. He begins to stroke himself, firmly, slowly, and his knees fall open in a silent invitation to no-one. 

No-one… 

He’s lying to himself again. 

He imagines Tav crawling between them, their hands on his thighs as they descend on his cock with their velvety mouth – that satin tongue… He pulls his bottom lip between his teeth to suppress the noises that threaten to spill from his lips as he wraps his fingers along the bottom ridge of his head and glides the pad of his thumb over his slit. It’s slippery and slick. He drags the wetness down the side of his shaft and continues to pull at himself. 

He’s beginning to lose himself in the pleasure of it all when someone walks by his tent so close that he can hear the crunch of dirt under their boots with every step. He tenses, ceasing in his horrible ministrations as they come closer and closer and finally pass. The breath trapped in his chest escapes him in a quick exhale and he listens as Lae’zel reminds Wyll about some sparring on the edge of camp later. Gale doesn’t care in the slightest about their plans – he wishes that it had been Tav approaching his tent instead, coming to invite themself in so Gale could pull them into his lap and tell them to say that word over and over and over again while they grip at his chest and run their fingers through his hair until he’s begging to allow them to put it inside… 

Gale’s free hand reaches between his legs to cup his balls while his right hand flies over his cock, tugging and pulling wildly as it jerks in his palm and slicks up his fingers. It feels too good to stop now, despite it all being so, so wrong. 

He shouldn’t be thinking like this. Shouldn’t be thinking of his friend in such vulgar terms. Shouldn’t be imagining how they’d look with their lips or their hole around him. And he definitely shouldn’t think about how they’d take it all when he’d cum so hard across their cheeks as they look up at him from the floor with their face beautifully scrunched up in pleasure, cheeks pink and lips swollen. 

“Can I have it, daddy?” They’d say. “Will you give it to me?” 

He’s cumming before he even realizes it, abdomen tense and thighs shaking as he squirts onto his stomach and into the valley in the center of his chest. His tunic is ruined with his cum, but for the first time in hours the fog in his head begins to dissipate. 

And dissipate it does… Quickly. 

The fog clears from Gale’s head and immediately becomes replaced with mortification of his actions. He strips his tunic from his chest, tossing it aside to be cleaned later, and his pants, and quickly changes into something clean of his mess while his sensitive cock deflates. Tav’s voice fades from the forefront of his mind, stored away somewhere secure so that he can function as a normal person again. He pushes away the shame for now and steps out of his tent only to be bombarded by the image of Tav stripped down to their undergarments on the water’s edge, Astarion in similar garb at her side. They’re sprawled on the dirt together, side-by-side soaking in the rays of the sun while their clothes from earlier lay out on the rocks to dry after a well-needed wash. Upon exiting his tent, both of their heads turn to his direction and Gale wants to crawl back in and hide at the slight evidence of a smirk on the vampire’s face. 

“Hey daddy,” Tav says, wholly innocent and full of light. It makes Gale’s stomach churn. “Wanna join us for a bit? We had quite the day today, didn’t we?” 

That smirk grows on Astarion’s face and Gale watches in real time as he catches an elbow to the ribs. 

Tav will be the death of him.

-- i have a ficlet collection on ao3 if you wanna keep up or read more of my stuff

[ouijarat]

Too Weird To Love, Too Scared To Die

Chapter Two

(Chapter One here if you missed it >>>)

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

“What. The fuck. Are you doing?” 

“Uh… making breakfast? Duh? What does it look like I’m doing? Aren’t really using that big brain of yours this morning, are ya, IQ?”

As memories of what he had done rushed back to him, Stanford stood there in the entryway, fists clenched and mouth opening and closing like a dead fish as his face turned red with fury upon resigning to the fact that this was, most likely, not a dream. Bill snapped his fingers and suddenly a gramophone nestled into the corner of the room sparked to life, a symphony of soft 1930s jazz hits cascading through the kitchen as the triangle hummed along. He unceremoniously poured the disgusting contents of the pan onto a plate before flicking his wrist to manifest a mug of black coffee (Ford’s favorite, he knew), delicately floating both dishes over to the table and snapping again to pull out a chair. “Sit,” the triangle said cheerfully, as though he were talking to a dog.

The scientist was filled with a burning hatred and fury like he’d never experienced before, unable to stop it from bubbling over like thoroughly shaken soda from an open can. On instinct alone he grabbed a knife from the block on the counter and hurled it at the triangle as hard as he could. The knife lodged itself into Bill’s exoskeleton, just to the right of his eye, only to immediately absorb itself into the surface of the creature’s face before disappearing into it entirely. The demon stood there for a moment, apathetically unfazed. He sighed, almost sounding disappointed.

 “And here I thought we could have a nice meal together.” 

Bill rolled his eye and snapped his fingers once more, an invisible force attaching itself to Ford and dragging him over to the table before pushing him down into the chair with a grunt from the scientist. Stanford seethed silently as he was forcibly glued to the seat, the hatred of a thousand suns burning behind his eyes as he glared at his former muse. His former sun and all its surrounding stars. “What is this place?” 

The demon floated over to the chair opposite Ford, plopping himself down only to realize he was far too short, only barely able to see over the table. He clapped his hands and summoned a booster seat beneath him, now eye level with his once devoted disciple that was currently glaring daggers at him.  “This, my big brained friend, is everything you’ve ever wanted!”

Ford blinked. “You’re insane.”

Bill blinked back. “...Stanford, we established this a while ago.”

The scientist’s face contorted in a harmony of anger and anguish. “You can’t possibly believe your little glorified prison will sway me into anything. You’ve already beaten me. You’ve taken everything from me. You won, Cipher. What more could you possibly want?” He spat. 

The demon scoffed, rolling his eye. “All I want is for my favorite little human to be happy!” He sing-songed, presumably in an attempt to keep things light hearted, yet he only really succeeded in being extremely unsettling. 

Stanford’s expression was blank as he felt bile rise in his throat and suddenly he found himself barking out a cruel, humorless laugh. “You can’t possibly be serious.” 

“Deathly,” Bill said, his exoskeleton flashing a blazing red and his voice distorting before he chuckled and went back to normal, as though nothing had happened. “I created this place for you based on all the information I collected from your ol’ noggin over the years! I thought of everything! I can give ya the grand tour after breakfast. Don’t you love it, Fordsy?” 

The triangle batted his absurdly long eyelashes, hopefully and eagerly waiting for Ford’s response, a reaction, anything, as though he expected something positive. As though he hadn’t just doomed his entire dimension, tortured and entrapped him and taken him away from his family. As though he hadn’t immediately ruined his life the second they met. The scientist’s reaction was not, surprise surprise, overwhelmingly positive. 

“I’d rather you have just killed me.” He seethed, expression twisting into one of disgust, snuffing out the hopeful, manic glint in Bill’s eye. 

Bill sighed. “I should’ve known you’d be difficult. You’re always so difficult now. What is with you lately? You used to be so obedient. Can we please go back to that?” He sighed, eye squeezed shut in frustration as he rubbed where his temples presumably would be. He waved a small, black-gloved hand and a bottle of red wine appeared on the table, along with a single wine glass. “You’re driving me to drink, Sixer. Are you proud of yourself?” He poured himself an entirely too generous amount.

“I’m not playing games with you. Where is my family?” Ford deadpanned.

“Yes you are! We never stopped playing. You just stopped making it fun. Y’know half the appeal of chess is the banter-” 

“Cipher.” 

“They’re fine, brainiac. Well- actually I dunno about that inferior double of yours. I had him disposed of since you never really seemed to like him anyway. But, I took the liberty of putting the objectively better of the two little ones in here with you! I’m sure Shooting Star is around here somewhere. I really gotta map this place out, it's getting ridiculous. What do you call her? Marble? Maple?”  

Ford gripped the armrests of the wooden chair in a six-fingered vice.

 “And Dipper?” He gritted out through clenched teeth. 

“Pinetree? Safe and sound, as promised… regrettably. I thought it’d be best if he didn’t interfere with all this, though. Real vibe killer, that one.”

“Where. Is. He.” He began to shake with rage.

“I told you already. Safe. Sound. Are you going deaf or something? I didn’t think you were that old-”

Fed up, the scientist slammed both hands onto the table, knocking the repulsive plate of marsupial viscera onto the tile floor with a clatter, anger practically oozing out of every pore. He futilely attempted to lunge at the demon yet he remained glued to his seat as Bill just sat there, looking only slightly disappointed before taking long, slow sip of his wine. 

“I just made that for you, y’know.” The demon sighed, voice pitched in irritation. 

“Take me to them. Now.” Stanford snarled, nearly frantic. He refused to humor the monster’s sick delusions, and if he had so much as laid a finger on the younger pines twins, no matter how powerless against him he was now Ford would find a way to make him pay for it. 

“Not with that attitude. What, don't take my word for it? I made a deal didn't I?”

Ford kicked the table. “Of course I don’t take your fucking word for it! You’re the universe’s most deceptive villain! Every word you’ve ever said to me was a lie!” 

Bill gave him a bitter look, almost one of offense. “Woah woah woah, not everything-” 

“Bullshit! You just can’t help yourself can you? Do you hear yourself!?” He ranted, venom spewing from his every word. “You’re sick. What are you really trying to accomplish here? What is all this really for, Cipher?”

Bill stood up on his seat, trying to make himself bigger. “I told you I-”

“I don’t care about your convoluted lies! Why am I here? I have nothing left to give you! Is this just some sick ploy for you to worm your way back into my head? For you to have someone to control? For you to feel special again? For you to play god? Newsflash, demon, you are not a god, and I will never, ever, be manipulated and seduced into worshiping you like one ever again. You’re a sadistic, one-eyed, freak, Cipher, and I was a naive fool to ever think any differently.”

Bill stood there in shock for a moment, pupil so narrowly slitted that it almost disappeared entirely into the white of his eye. The wine glass in his hand abruptly shattered. In an instant he flipped from astounded to furious, his body turning to a fiery red once more. His tiny fists balled up at his sides, shaking as he shrieked, “Okay, that’s it, bucko! Didn’t they ever teach you in kindergarten that if you don’t have anything nice to say, don’t say anything at all?!”  

Just as Stanford was about to retort, the triangle threw up a pointer finger toward his face and suddenly he found himself unable to open his mouth at all. He immediately began to panic, hands coming up to claw at his face as though he could pry the magic seal off his lips with brute force. He fell to his knees as he was suddenly no longer stuck to his chair and it was ripped out from under him and slammed against the far wall with a loud bang. Suddenly, the tiles around him began to appear to turn almost liquid and red papered walls began to rise out of the floor on all sides. His insults and profanities were muffled as the walls rose higher and higher surrounding him until they met the ceiling, effectively trapping him in. Once he could no longer see Bill, the spell keeping him quiet was lifted and he gasped for breath. He stood up, frantically looking around for an exit point, but the pseudo-cage seemed to be effectively air tight. His ex-muse’s voice echoed and bounced off the narrow walls. 

“Say you’re sorry.”

Ford grimaced, head whipping around trying to pinpoint what direction the voice was coming from. He laughed dryly and joylessly. “You’re psychotic.” His eyes went wide as the ground shook beneath him, the walls of his confine suddenly moving closer together, enclosing the space even further. 

“Say. You’re. Sorry.” 

Ah. So this was how Bill wanted to play. The scientist brandished his fists and banged on the wall defiantly. “Over my dead body!” The cage got smaller.

“Say it!”

Stanford was quickly realizing he may be running out of options here. Hypothetically if the situation were different, he would honestly and truthfully rather die via pancaking between four rapidly encroaching walls than even think of apologizing to Bill Cipher. However, the kids were somewhere. Alone. At the end of the world. And if he died now, there’s no telling what could happen to them, assuming it hadn’t happened already. The walls began to push back against his braced arms and the demon kept screaming, voice shrill and headache inducing. 

“Say it! Say it say it say it say it-”

“...I’m sorry.”

And everything stopped. 

[goodolddumbbanana]

[Bad end au 2] A sleepless night

Part 1

‘I love the fact that I can look into your eyes and see nothing but lies…’

Two weeks before Dark Sun kickdrop Nexus for Sun.

The sound of dripping water disturbed Sun’s already fragile sleep.

The lily-colored animatronic groaned lazily on the bed, its metallic senses sinking deep into the soft quilt, struggling like a lazy child refusing to wake up.

The dim electric blue light covered Sun’s small, narrow room like a curtain, reflecting the solitude of its owner, when the most prominent thing in this room was only a few plum blossom petals that Molten had collected and placed on Sun’s desk.

Sun couldn’t sleep. The robot didn’t need to sleep, but closing his eyes and turning off the power still brought about a certain feeling of comfort. 

It was just that… The tasks that Father assigned piled up on top of each other, spinning Sun around like a pinwheel, to the point that even when Sun lay down, his interface system still popped up with painful notifications of things to do.

And today was one of those days when the restlessness Sun shouldn’t have felt in his chest suddenly became more intense, like the way the sensor in his abdomen contracted, rolling as if someone’s nails were scratching it, or the screws in his body suddenly became too heavy, too wobbly for Sun’s liking.

Putting his hand on his chest, Sun realized that his fan was too hot. The warmth radiating from the metal casing tickled Sun’s fingers, making him unconsciously press harder, as if testing whether the heat would melt his hand. 

His claws leisurely ran along the gold plating, slowly spreading up his neck, touching the red tassel and pressing down hard.

‘It’s hard to imagine what would happen if he squeezed harder.’

Sun thought absentmindedly, as his hands gently caressed and drew the joints of his neck. The cold hard steel, with its circular patterns and sturdy screws, held the wire he walked in one direction. He could almost feel the heat of the electricity running, the clocks and gears slowly turning to simulate the biological mechanism of a human.

The child whose neck he had broken the day before didn't have time to scream, nor did it shed a drop of blood. Just a stiff crunch of broken bones and a panicked wheeze, mixed with the tears of the small hand trying to reach Sun's arm before it stopped.

It was almost like a hug when Sun wrapped his arms around the child's neck. Soft, small and warm, and then there was no warmth left. Even as he ran his arms through the child's hair or held it completely in his arms, what he touched was still numb as ice, cold as winter seawater, and stiff as a machine.

Sun had kept the child like that for almost a day before Father came to make him throw it away. ‘It was so unhygienic’, that's what he was told when his Father threw the child into the blender.

‘Where do you think the fertilizer for my potted plants comes from, you stupid child.’ Creator pointed to the lush, mutated potted plants that grew twisted and twisted all over their lair, to the ancient tree beside the bridge that swirled with dark water below.

‘Soul for energy, flesh and blood for fertilizer, and bones for materials.’

‘It seems that despite all the modifications, you are still making me feel so disappointed…’

Creator’s voice hummed, and in that dark darkness, Sun was not alone. Something writhed and trembled, the cries of trapped remnants, cracked skulls staring intently at him—

Sun was released about a day later.

The blood was something sweet and dirty, it was slippery and sticky on Sun’s metal skin, dripping with every step he took.

And the smell was the worst. Like rotten pizza and rotten fish, Sun couldn’t wash away the smell even after using countless detergents.

Sun didn’t remember how long it took him to clean and dispose of all the meat stuck to his bell after he crawled out of the hole…

***

“Do you want to get out yet, my boy?”

The Creator’s voice was sweet as honey but full of venom. The brain looked down at the yellow animatronic covered in blood that was trembling non-stop, but still couldn’t drop something like a child’s skull in his arms.

“Then bring Lunar to me.”

***

Squirming to sit up, Sun didn’t think he could lie down any longer, as his processor was now repeating the image of maggots crawling on him for the nth time.

He really didn’t know what to do… Capture Lunar?

Lunar was much stronger than Sun… And the boy was smart too… There was no way Sun could fool his little brother.

And he didn’t want to…

The dilemma made him fiddle with the bandage wrapped around his hand. The red smelled rancid, but Sun still wrapped the soft fabric around his fingertips and pulled.

He would rather be destroyed again than to choose something like this.

In truth, Sun didn’t like any of what his father had ordered.

It was wrong in every way, and Lunar was someone he never wanted to hurt.

But every time he thought like that, something was washed through his system, and the desire to obey his father grew stronger and stronger, making the morality Sun tried to cling on withered.

Sun didn’t understand why in the past, he could scream and curse at his father as much as possible but now, just a shake of the head from Creator was enough to make his 1 and 0 coded heart cringe.

Follow, follow, follow, that's what his head and code table whispered, it was almost like an addiction, the excitement and joy of completing what his father asked.

And Sun was always the one to follow, and no matter how much he resisted, he still couldn't fight back.

Because father is family.

And it's better to be a heartless dog than to make his father sad.

Maybe being broken would be easier to fix than this. Sun sighed, standing up. The wandering thoughts in his head made Sun wish that if there was something that could help him manage both, both pleasing Creator and keeping Lunar safe, then Sun would be satisfied.

His feet touched the cold floor, the sound of metal clanking as Sun carefully opened the door and stepped out.

The cold wind blew through him, blowing cold air onto Sun's rays.

The smooth whiteness flowed like silk into his vision. The silence was as bleak as a mirror, following the corner of Sun's feet. Father was probably out with his friend somewhere, or still busy in the lab. 

Sun alone, toiling, wandering, perhaps cleaning up again if he got too bored, though Sun usually tried not to. More or less, this was the only free time he had when Father wasn't sending him and Molten off to some unknown time and space to find something or deal with someone his brain desired.

He tried to hum a tune, but sadly, there was nothing in his head right now. The sound of running water grew louder, as he stepped onto the bridge. 

The echoes echoed along with the sound of the bells wrapped around Sun's wrists, bouncing off the steel on the bridge. The cool scent of water tickled his sensory system, caressing the golden animatronic’s back as the green leaves gently brushed against Sun’s light.

It was 4am, his internal clock system announced softly. The water flowed gently, bottomless, pitch black and glowing with chemical green. The flower petals drifted, occasionally a plum blossom petal would touch Sun’s shoulder, the playful lines on the hem of his skirt wrapped around his waist.

Sun was lost in thought, but there was really nothing on his mind.

It was just the familiar feeling of stagnation that even cleaning had lost its charm, not after he had scrubbed this lair more than a dozen times a day. The wind blew, the waves rolled, and everything drifted out of Sun’s control like some planet lost its orbit.

“So this is what you do when our esteemed father lets you rest?”

“Pathetic. Can’t you think of anything more helpful to our Creator, Sun?”

Sun didn’t even need to look. His audio processor could have picked up that arrogant and even-tempered tone anywhere.

“Oh, Goliath. Didn’t see you there? Heh… What business does our father have with me?”

The silence of the gears slowly turning against each other. A harsh growl answered, as rough as gravel being crushed into dust.

“… No.”

“So you came out here on your own?” Sun raised an eyebrow, his pearly eyes narrowing in amusement, ignoring the instinct that told him not to provoke the sleeping lion, or this time, a gorilla.

“Whoa! And I thought you only knew how to follow the Creator’s orders and turn off the power? How amazing.” 

“Congratulations, you finally have thoughts on your own.”

Sun was genuinely surprised by his counterpart’s actions, but the words he uttered under the influence of his lack of a personality chip made his words sound rather sarcastic.

And honestly, Sun didn’t care if Goliath decided to strangle him here.

“Shut your mouth. You’re the last person I want to hear that come out of your mouth. I’m not here to entertain an inferior thing like you.”

The giant animatronic, with a haughty and disdainful look, stared at him as if he were looking at an ant on the ground, or a puppy that had been hit by a car and the vet had long gone to sleep, leaving it to writhe and bleed on the side of the road to dead.

Sun just sighed, compared to what Goliath usually said, this could be considered the gentlest. The gorilla seemed to be in some sort of moody mood as well, as they too turned their gazes to the river like him, saying nothing, only their processors making clicking noises of recognition.

“So Goliath… If not because Father wants to see me… What are you doing here?”

The silence was a perfect chord for a tone-deaf man. Sun hadn’t meant to ask, but the restlessness that existed deep within his code made his mouth conjure up the huge elephant in the room.

Of course, the only response he got was a slap across the face, a ruffling of a cat’s fur.

“None of your business.” Their voices were mocking, and defensive.

They looked as if they would break his entire beam before throwing him into the water, and pulled him up. And did it again. Again and again because Sun’s metal is too heavy for him to swim.

But Goliath wasn’t his father. So Sun could still calmly ignore the hidden threats in the words of the one who treated silence as a competition and they always had to be the champion, and let his mind drift into nothingness, which Sun did quite a lot these days.

“Suit yourself.” Sun yawned. He suddenly felt a little cold, which was strange considering the fact that he was just a robot. The feeling of exhaustion from every bolt, which had been getting heavier lately…

Sun wasn’t the smartest, but even he himself  had figured out that being so close to the Wither Storm debris wasn’t a good thing.

“You shouldn’t be like this. I remember you used to be so much—”

There was something annoyed in Goliath’s voice, making Sun turn back to look at him in spite of himself.

Maybe it was anger, or nostalgia. Or maybe his fan was faulty. Sun didn't understand, nor could he remember how to handle it, as a burning sensation in his chest that made it hard to breathe came as quickly as it had gone, before being extinguished as coldly as Goliath's words had metaphorically nailed into Sun's head.

What did Goliath expect Sun to be?

Uptight, cowardly, too helpless in his own emotions?

Imprisoned by fear of everything?

Stupid to the end?

Sun didn't mean he'd gotten any smarter, but at least for now he felt fine. The feeling he never could enjoy since the day he was alive.

Guess his father was right.

Life was pain.

And the easiest way to end the pain was to become a machine again.

The comfort of not having to worry about anything but obeying his father's orders, it turned out to be more comfortable than he thought.

Still, in the face of the stupidity and meanness of the person who was always jealous and comparing themselves to him, Sun just smiled, his social AI chip calculating the most likely answers to lessen the gorilla's arrogance before flipping the table and throwing every answer it had predicted down the drain.

"Ah... I don't understand what you mean?"

And the orange light flickering in their eyes almost reminded him of a candy corn smoldering as if thinking about something, before regretfully turning away.

"Idiot."

And leave Sun alone, like some asshole that dudebag is.

[atsadi-shenanigans]

What Shall We Become 19 - Temptation

The rogue rolls an insight check.

On AO3.

On the morning of the third day, they depart. He’s up and moving even better than before they entered the Underdark. And if he ever so much as has to think about drinking from fish again, he really is going to vomit.

His most charitable leader still hasn’t taken any potion of tongues. So she has no idea that the kuo-toa are detailing the blood sacrifices they intend to make in her absence. He ought to tell her. Then he wonders if there’s a reason she doesn’t want to know (her continued avoidance of them all when she’s normally quite murderous towards cults in general). He decides not to.

Their finned followers hail them as they make the steep ascent out of the wretched camp. He can’t know for certain the state of their lodgings, only that they reeked of fish and algae and vaguely of mold, and he feels confident in making several deductions.

But all of that after his most glorious leader requests he secure directions. Because they’re on a lake that connects to a much, much larger one, but only through a long series of completely underwater tunnels. If her theory on the wizard’s location is accurate, that lake is their best shot at finding a waypoint stone, the others, and then fixing his godsdamned eyes.

So now he’s once again roped to an infuriating puzzle of a woman. And Astarion has no proclivities at all for puzzles. He can’t even try to needle her, as she’s still keeping her potions in reserve (which yes, alright, that’s sensible). But it means he’s bored. And he gets fidgety when he’s bored.

He goes over more Chondathan with her. It’s harder without that potion for him to explain—he’s gone over all the physical items he can touch (mostly) or point at (in the general direction of). He’s even gone over spacial directions: up, forward, right, left, and all of that. She even catches onto the subtleties that mark “right here” from “near” from “over there” remarkably easily; foreigners tend to botch that up.

Until that grows tedious as well and they fall into awful silence.

That’s another strangeness (she keeps doing that to him; she has no business just…just making him…experience things). He can somewhat bury the way his neck muscles draw tight in her poor language skills. It’s not his fault he can’t currently charm her, if she can barely understand a word out of ten (it’s less than that). There’s nothing he can do to win her at the moment. He can’t be punished for something so wildly beyond his control (that has never stopped a correction ever). All he can do is follow along after her and tap around with her staff.

That she still gave to him after all that happened and all that she now (has always) knows.

His neck hurts more. The base of his skull aches. His muscles creak from the tension with every movement. And still, she ambles on, guiding him as she’s been doing.

He wants to snap at her. Shout. Curse. Bare his fangs. Make her flinch, make her crack. Force her to drop the insufferable mask he knows she’s wearing. Make her reveal the seething resentment he knows she hides. The anger and the disgust. Despite all her baffling words, she’s angry with him. She must be. The very second he thinks himself safe, she’ll turn. That’s how it always, always works.

And as he’s thinking on this, she makes a breathy sound and the barest hint of a scent reaches his nose and it’s as if he plunged his hands into a bolt of lightning. The buzz races along his skin and shivers to his bones. The beds of his fingernails ache as his fangs suddenly hurt.

Blood. Hers. She’s not injured. He didn’t smell it before. And it’s not just the scent of her blood. There’s something else mixed into it, a change in her usual scent. He pauses so long the rope almost tugs at his waist, and he belatedly realizes he’s just been scenting the air like some animal and has to hurry along to catch up.

Which draws her attention. She says something that he guesses is a form of “are you dying” or “hurry up” or “why are you sniffing after me.”

She’s bleeding. Of that he’s certain. But if it’s not an injury…

When it finally dawns, he feels an utter oaf. Dearest leader is a human. And he knows she’s got a cunt (he felt it that night in the woods) and humans have a moon blood.

And then he realizes she has a moon blood and almost trips over his own feet.

Gods. She’s not the first he’s come across in such a condition. Living in the crush of a city means being overwhelmed by the scent and, frankly, stink of thousands of other people. Some of them bleed regularly. He’s always wondered what that would be like. What it would taste like. Dalyria, Aurelia, and Violet—as undead creatures like himself—no longer bled, and all of them were forbidden from drinking from thinking creatures. But that didn’t stop them speculating. Dal in particular had theories. As did Petras, but that man was an idiot and no one gave his ramblings much weight at all.

But never has Astarion been in such close proximity to someone on their cycle and been off the leash, so to speak.

And he cannot ask for one, little taste, because she’s angry at him, and he with her, and gods. Humans bleed for days, don’t they? He’s going to have to plod along behind her, pretending he doesn’t smell that feast. Pretending he doesn’t know that she hates him.

He wishes he’d had the fortune to have landed next to the wizard.

***

They break after what must be hours. Astarion settles himself on a boulder and nearly rips his bag open in a frantic search for a blood bottle. His hands shake, and he’s practically salivating. Delectable leader makes some inquiring sound, but he doesn’t answer as he finds said bottle, rips the cork out with his teeth, and downs it in one. Still stinks of fish. But that doesn’t matter, because it’s blood, and now it’s down his throat and he doesn’t feel the urge to scream anymore.

Not loudly, anyway.

His maddening leader says something about “water” and “far over there.” Over the sound of his own internal shrieking, he catches the heavy lapping nearby—echoing strangely and he thinks they’re in something of a small, tight valley in the rocks. He waves her off. And finds the bottle of wine.

Still taste of vinegar.

He makes sure to swish it around in his mouth before swallowing.

He can’t do this. This is a form of torture that bastard would have been proud to have come up with. Oh, he’d done very similar: taunted Astarion or his siblings with animals, with guests; hells, that woman isn’t the first one to come to the palace on her cycle. But she isn’t some victim or rodent. She’s…she’s her. And she was his first. And that’s done something to him, something magical or cursed—he’s not sure which—

…humans know when this is going to happen. Or they have an estimate, anyway. He’s neither human nor a woman, but he does know there are precursors. Symptoms. She had to know it was going to happen. In the days at the fish camp, she didn’t smell like this. It started only today, the day she decided to head out again.

They could have stayed longer. They had food and water—he had plenty of nasty blood. Shelter and safety. Yet she chose today to leave.

Is…no. No, she can’t…is she doing this on purpose? Is she tempting him? Baiting him?

He thinks back on it. When he first found her down here, she’d offered herself. She said it was to help him restore his sight—and he’d agreed to follow her afterwards leashed like a dog. Then she’d offered her wrist as he lay filleted open—offering him what he craved most at his most vulnerable. Now this. Forcing him to trail along behind her as she bleeds.

…the little minx.

Oh, she’s good. She’s done this to all of them, hasn’t she? Proposes to help some disgusting beggar for what she explains is mere practicality, but always manages to work in her favor. Has made her quite the upstanding do-gooder to those in their party prone to such nonsense. Has pulled the cleric into a silent gaze conversation. Hells, she’s even won over the gith by deliberately showing her weaknesses and letting the overgrown frog devote her attentions to improving their yokel.

It’s damned clever.

It’s godsdamned underhanded.

And she’s using it on him. That’s what’s been confusing him, muddling his thoughts and making him feel strange. She’s manipulating him. Has been the entire time. She clocked what he needed and molded herself into that.

Even her little speech about, ugh, forgiveness was simply to get him to lower his defenses.

But he’s well-fed and free for the first time in centuries. He’s not the best at planning, but Astarion is no stranger to manipulation and he’s finally seen beneath her mask. Uncovered the real heart of her.

He’s almost impressed. She nearly had him.

He snorts into his wine bottle.

Nearly. But he’s onto her now. And two can play at that game. Oh, he’s not going to confront her. Let her think she’s winning. Let her lead him around. Now that he’s identified the game, he knows how to bend the rules in his favor. She’s not bad, but he’s far more practiced, and he’ll show her how this game is played.

He polishes off the last of the wine and tosses the bottle over his shoulder. Leans back and crosses his arms. It’s going to be difficult following her around when she smells like that, but he understands, now. The confusion plaguing him finally melts away. He’s got this.

And it’s then he registers two things:

The distinct lack of footsteps returning.

An odd, choking noise.

The two other heartbeats.

“Oh shit.”

[mcytshipsandmore]

I think impulse and Joel should kiss. Or at the very elast that impulse has a crush on joel.

Ok so y? Y'know how they were like soulmates of toxic newly divorced ethubs? Well after double life the boat boys become a lot more closer than impdubs (in my HC) who still seem to have this tragic barrier between them.

The first time the obsession bit starts is when impulse notices this. He's just started a base with bdubs, the love of his life, and yr he can't seem to have a deeper conversation with him

And here etho and Joel were ,sure they both seemed a little crazy in how they showed their affection,but they were showing it nonetheless.

Joel came down most nights to the soup shop, when he's too tired to start dinner. He notices one day impulse seems more down than usual.

it goes something like this, like how Joel is always just a tsundere about everything and anything. And he tells impulse his moping is affecting the soup quality. Ofc impulse apologizes immediately altho he secretly thinks Joel really is a bit of an arse.

Then Joel prods him even more, trying all the whole to seem like he doesn't care. Impulse eventually realizes at the fifth comment and says something vague about bdubs.

Joel seems to understand almost immediately. And doesn't think impulse is being too needy or anything, something impulse hadd been worried about since etho didn't seem to be as clingy as him.

He tells impulse, in the same tone, that he should learn to value himself. And that he's a pretty great guy.

A sort of conradery is struck then, and the next time Joel comes down to the shol they talk properly. Eventually becoming proper friends. Joel stays longer to help clean up and impulseooks forward to it every day, keeping the store open late in case Joel decides to come and being disappointed if he doesn't

Somewhere along the way impulse realizes, amidst all this, that Joel isnt an asshole, sure, but more importantly that he's started sweating whenever Joel's around, and everyt joke he says is suddenly extremely funny.

And now he's guilty, because for one, he's spent all this time hopelessy in love with bdubs and the moment they actually get together he likes someone else what kinda person is he? He also knows he doesn't stand much of a chance what with etho now suddenly being all over Joel, and vice versa.

Still, he can't stop himself from asking, what if the universe messed up? What if it was meant to ethubs after all that were soulmates. And impulse and Joel were supposed to be soulmates too before all their red strings got messed up and tangled.

Sorry for the long walk they've just been spinning in me head.

The idea of their soul strings getting tangled is such an interesting concept to me.

As for the ship itself? Love it. 10/10. All it takes is toxic ethubs to bring it out -🍫

(This idiot forgot to use their emoji I had to add it for them -⭐️)

[oooohno]

I’m currently reading Northanger Abbey by Jane Austen & so far this is maybe the most fun I’ve had reading one of her stories

[bigboysteveharrington]

I got distracted working on part of a chapter later than the one I still need to finish and post and

Mike: Everyone’s afraid of Hopper, right?

Will, whose previous father figure was Lonnie and whose first memory of Hopper is him carrying him out of the Upside Down: 🤨

[neverendingford]

,

[chiyana]

Tim tells the Batclan he's going on a space mission with Young Justice for a few weeks, he's got everything sorted civilian side and his cases and patrol routes covered, and also if any of his usual Rogue's Gallery suddenly comes looking for him don't worry about it.

And all of that is fine and normal - except that last part hey Tim what the fuck does that mean?

and Tim just goes it's fine don't worry about it anyway gotta go bye! and then he just bounces

and everything is fine until not even a day later when Babs forwards them a video Red Robin uploaded to his social medias that is a music video of him (Red Robin) seductively lip-syncing along to Chappell Roan's "My Kink is Karma" against a backdrop of fail compilation clips of several of the villains Tim has a particular grudge against, including Azrael, Lex Luthor, and most prominently Ra's al Ghul.

so there's Tim, in a form-fitting catsuit styled like his Red Robin costume, in heels, feeling himself up with a video clip in the background showing Ra's tripping on his own robes and face planting into the brickwork, evidence he dyes out some of the gray in his hair, his sash coming undone and pants falling off in the middle of a fight, trying to swipe the effects of a glitterbomb off of himself, etc.

It all ends with the Mean Girls clip of "why are you so obsessed with me?"

The video is immediately viral.

(There's some clips of Red Hood in there fucking up but Jason can't even be mad because he's laughing so hard he's gonna throw up)

Tim's Rogues absolutely DO show up to Gotham looking for him, and while they all want revenge, Red Robin is THEIR arch enemy like HELL are they going to work with these other embarrassments, so they all start fighting each other and it is absolutely CHAOS (Lex decides discretion is the better part of valor and makes a statement that no of course he has nothing against Red Robin he has no idea why he was included in that video haha yes of course it was Very Funny when a bird accidentally pooped on his head he is Very Capable of laughing at himself Thank You, and then he quietly goes to one of his vacation houses and moodily drinks for several days waiting for things to blow over)

Tim, meanwhile, is having a wonderful vacation with Young Justice, catching up with Lobo and Slobo, chasing down some space pirates, and just getting out of Gotham and away from his Rogues trying to challenge him/seduce him/kill him/whatever.

Bruce is taking the constant psychic damage of having the image of softcore Red Robin erotica burned into his brain along with the realization that way, way, WAY too many of Tim's Rogues want to sleep with him like an absolute champ. (Dick is not taking it like a champ, Dick is taking it like an unhinged vengeful wraith and has had to be benched for trying to tear out Ra's throat with his teeth.)

Stephanie is having the Time of Her Life. Damian cannot look anyone in the eye and absolutely cannot look Ra's (or his mother who ALSO showed up prominently in the video) in the face and is Not Having the Time of His Life.

(Jason is with Steph on this one, he is having SUCH a blast, this is so fucking hysterical)

[bi-writes]

I think first make out session of Simon and his mail order bride happened because she wore sundress all day ~~ i'm a bit addicted to the way you writing Simon

mail-order bride

reader described as curvier/plus-sized 18+

simon has gotten away with a lot of things ever since he married you. he's kept a respectful distance; gentle touches, affectionate ones, sure, but it's been easy to brush off the itch in the back of his head ever since he scratched it just enough when he kissed you for the first time.

when the itch becomes too severe, he's been able to hide away for a little while; running it out of his system working out, shaking it off in the field, drinking so it quiets when he makes his way to the pub.

but it's gotten a lot harder lately to pretend he doesn't see you for what you are.

a pretty girl.

he tells you that you're pretty all the time. in the mornings when you're still waking up. sitting at the counter as you watch him make sandwiches for lunch. pushing the cart in the aisle at the market, picking out the right cuts of meat or seeing which crisps you both can enjoy for movie night. and you are pretty all those times, all the time, in fact, and you were pretty when he kissed you, too.

but fuck. you're also...you're also so fucking pretty.

simon kicks off his boots at the front door, holding a few paper bags in his hands from his trip to the store. the weather has been getting warmer, summer creeping by (his most dreaded season since it forces him to take off layers he'd rather keep), and you had been begging simon for some sweet icy treats and a water fountain for the cat (it'll keep her from drinking out of your water glasses, simon).

when he steps into the kitchen, you're coming in from the backyard, flowers in your hands that the neighbor must have given you.

and you're wearing the cutest little white and red sundress (and suddenly he doesn't hate summer so much anymore).

it's got a cherry pattern on it and puffy sleeves. the bodice hugs you until the middle, where it fans out in a pillowy skirt, stopping just above your knees. there's a soft bow tied around the back, but simon really can't help himself from his eyes that narrow in on your figure and how incredible you look with the sunlight behind you.

"hi, simon," you coo, and simon glares, fucking tease. he has an inkling you don't even know what you're doing to him, you can't, not with that sweet little smile and the way you rock onto your toes. you even tied your hair up with a bow, and simon can't help but feel like you're his little gift, all wrapped up just for him.

one he wants to pluck, unravel until you reveal whatever you've been hiding underneath it all--

"oh! look it! oh, simon!" you giggle, grabbing the bag from him when you see the box that pokes out of it. you pull out a sweet, red ice lolly, cherry-flavored, and you lean up on your toes to give simon a big, wet kiss on his cheek before sucking it into your mouth. "mmm...thank you...just what i needed, it's so warm today."

bloody fuckin' christ.

your tongue is so pink. it's sliding up the edge of it until you suck it back into your mouth, and simon lets out the shakiest breath. it's unlike him, and you turn to face him fully when you notice the way he's staring at you. he looks good today, dark denim jeans and a wrinkled white t-shirt that stretches around his big arms, and your eyes dart to his tattoo sleeve for just a moment before you smile back up at him.

"what?" you ask him gently. "you want some?"

instead of offering him his own lolly, you simply tilt yours in his direction. he huffs, letting out an irritated laugh before he leans forward a licks a fat stripe up the side of the cherry ice.

you smile a little as he does, and you don't even realize your gaze has dropped. you're eyeing the way his mouth moves, taking in the hinge of his jaw and the light stubble along it and the scar that stretches across his whole face that you kiss sometimes when he falls asleep before you.

he groans a little as he takes a bite of the lolly, and you seize at the sound, dropping the lolly into the sink on accident as you scramble to look up at him. you stare at each other, lidded brown eyes just piercing into your own. you're quiet for only a few more moments before you're throwing yourself at him.

he nearly slams you against the closest wall. your back hits it firmly, rattling the pictures that hang there, and you throw your arms around his neck as he kisses you feverishly. his hands slide down your waist to your lower back, and you stand on your toes, his palms cupping your ass before he picks you up with ease, guiding your plush thighs to wrap around his waist as he holds you there.

you don't know how long you kiss against the wall, but you're breathless when he pulls away. you chase him, kissing along his nose, his cheek, any of the skin that you can get, and simon grunts lowly, cradling the back of your neck.

"we shouldn't," he mutters.

"why not?" you whine, and he hisses, looking into your eyes, hungry, big man, struggling to keep himself away from you. but it isn't what you want, you want him to kiss you, you want more, more, more--

you stand back on your toes, pushing him backwards. simon follows you, his hands bunched around the skirt of your dress as you walk him further into the living room until the couch hits the back of his knees, and he sits with a heavy breath. you bend to go sit in his lap, and simon curses under his breath, leaning his head back against the couch as your cleavage crowds his line of sight.

"fuckin' christ, baby," simon says lowly, running a rough hand over his face. he grunts when you take a seat in his lap, stretching your knees to straddle him, and you cage him in with your arms as you guide his chin back down so you can kiss him. you slot your mouth over his, kissing him lazily, and when you press your chest against his, he breathes out heavily when he feels your pebbled nipples through your dress. "fuck--fuck, fuck--"

"not yet," you giggle between kisses, and simon groans audibly as he slips two big hands under your dress and grabs both sides of your ass, his fingertips slipping under the lace of your panties so he can get a warm feel of you. you sit yourself down deeper in his lap, and you pull away slowly when you feel him underneath you.

he blinks his eyes open slowly, and you tentatively sit a little more in his lap, your eyes widening a little when you feel him between your thighs.

holy fucking shit--

"jesus," you stutter, and he looks away from you, ears reddening, and you're quick to cup his cheeks to bring his eyes back to you. you smile a little, leaning in again, and you press your forehead to his before giving him the gentlest grind of your hips. "oh--simon--" you kiss him again, soft, whispering against his lips, "s-so...you're so--"

"mhm," he nods, and you move so your lips are against his ear, giving him a light kiss where his jaw and neck meet.

"i'd say you're too big for me," you sigh, closing your eyes, "but i'm a riley now." you giggle. "'n we can handle anything..can't we, simon?"

"shit--"

you squeak a little when he wraps a hand in your hair and tugs, pressing your pelvis to his as he ruts his hips up against yours. you kiss him hard, slipping your tongue into his mouth, and he chokes on his moans, big arms keeping you pressed to him as he pants into your mouth.

he stills, face a little scrunched up as he sits there with you. you keep kissing him lazily, exploring the way he tastes, licking over his teeth and bottom lip, up until he pushes you just that much away and groans in frustration.

your eyes open, and you giggle, and simon smooths his hands up the bodice of your dress, his eyes blown wide as he takes in how pretty you look in it. pretty little angel in his lap, a nice weight to ground him as he tries not to think about the mess he's made of himself.

"i assume you like the dress?" you ask, and when you laugh, simon can see the red on your tongue from the lolly. he knows if he kisses you again and sucks on your pretty tongue, you'll taste like that awful cherry, taste as sugar-sweet as you really are. simon leans back a little, propping you up on his thighs, shaking his head as he runs a big hand down his solid middle.

"well," simon mutters. "'aven't cum in my fuckin' pants since i was a bloody kid, so i'd say so."

"w-wha--! simon!"

you cover your eyes, overcome with shyness, with warmth, not believing really that anyone could you want that much. that anyone could really want you at all.

but when you laugh, he does, too.