#but I have too many thoughts to make a full list

[corkinavoid]

DPxDC Heritance

There's not much left for Tim in his parents' wills. Or, well, not much by his standards - the rest of the family, barring Bruce and Damian, think he is absolutely loaded and too full of himself to care. Which is maybe a little bit true; receiving about a dozen properties across the world, a trust fund and a wide collection of artifacts that his parents have accumulated through years of their archeological escapades is a lot by middle class standards.

But Tim knows how much money Drakes actually had, and a few old houses and an assembly of junk seems like not much in comparison.

In any case, it's all rather useless in Tim's position. He has no interest in traveling aside from when he has to for a mission, and he couldn't give less shits about archeology even if he tried. The trust fund is fine, he guesses, but it's not like he needs it, what with being the CEO of Wayne Enterprises and one of the Wayne Wards.

So, as morbid as it is, the best reaction he can muster at his inheritance is a shrug and a mention in his mile-long list of 'things I need to figure out when I have time'. Which basically means he'll maybe get to it when he's old and retired, and not any sooner, because Tim Drake the CEO and Red Robin the vigilante are both very, very busy people who never have time.

Naturally, his life has other plans, and it's only two or three months later that Tim finds himself breaking through the balcony window of his own apartment in Praha.

It's at that moment, when he's lying on top of a soft persian rug, surrounded by glass shards and wondering if this move was enough to lose his tail that he realizes his inheritance might be slightly more than just a few properties and some boxes with old things.

Because, through his own heavy breathing, he hears a thoughtful, slightly sarcastic voice from inside the room, "I guess the door was too hard to figure out for you, wasn't it."

He sits up, turning his head so sharply it almost snaps. His eyes immediately fall on a boy not much older than him, sitting with one leg thrown over the other on the dark red couch near the wall. He looks like he clearly belongs here: white, vintage collar shirt and black, high-waist trousers, a silver ring on his thumb that looks too old to have been bought in this century, dark raven hair and perfect porcelain skin.

And he is reading a newspaper. Like a slightly bleeding costumed guy in a domino mask breaking the window and falling onto the carpet is just another Tuesday.

Hold on, this is Tim's house! He double-checked the address, there's no mistake!

"Who are you?" He demands, frowning, as his hands reach to the birdarangs out of habit.

"Keeper of Doors," the boy answers, not looking up and flipping the page, "And you're the Drakes' heir, I assume."

Tim blinks. The response provides no actual answers, it only creates more questions. "What doors?" He asks because the rest of the points can most likely be addressed later. Like the issue of his busted secret identity, right.

The boy sighs and closes the newspaper, folding it in half and uncrossing his legs to sit a bit straighter. "Doors, capital 'D'. The ones that lead everywhere you want."

"The what?.." Tim repeats, dumbfounded and lost in this unexpected nonsense. The boy gives him a truly unimpressed look, his eyebrow twitching. Then, he stands up - Tim's fingers close around the birdarang again - and steps towards the nearest door, grabbing the handle. His feet make absolutely no sound.

"Drake manor," the boy announces and pushes the door open. He doesn't step through, however, instead just standing in the doorway and turning back to Tim, gesturing for him to look.

Tim does.

Seeing the familiar hall, the one he's seen so many times, the one he walked through every day before he moved out, makes him realize a few things at once. One, he needs to revise the list of houses he inherited since it looks like they are not just properties but a map of teleportation points, most likely. Two, his parents knew full well he didn't need the trust fund, it wasn't for him, it was probably for this boy, who may or may not be the, well, gatekeeper. Three, if the first part of his inheritance turned out to be this, he is going to need to call in Zatanna to sort through the collection of his parents' artifacts lest something turns out to be actually cursed in there.

Four, he's been staring at the boy and gaping like a fish for longer than its socially acceptable.

"...What's your name?" He asks, suddenly conscious about the fact he was kind of rude before. The boy snorts, a ghost of a smile on his lips as he closes the door back.

"Danny," he introduces and snaps his fingers. The glass shards around Tim move all at once, rising from the ground and going back towards the window, like a reversed video recording. A second later, the balcony window looks as good as new, not a crack in the glass. "And you?"

"Red Ro-" Tim starts, but then pauses. Fuck it, he might as well, "Tim."

Danny waves his hand in the air, like snatching something out of nowhere, and, just like that, there's a box that looks suspiciously like a first-aid kit in his hands.

"Nice to meet you, Tim. Now, get over here and stop ruining my carpet with your blood."

[lokischocolatefountain]

Reward | At Your Service

Read part 1 Battlefront here

Fandom: Gladiator II Pairing: General Marcus Acacius x Empress!Reader Rating: M Word count: 4.6k words Summary: General Acacius returns home victorious from war, demanding too great a reward. Warnings: Historical inaccuracies, some historical accuracies, period accurate misogyny, smut, period accurate taboo cunnilingus, possessive talk, talk of baby making but no breeding kink, overstimulation. A/N: I intend for this to be a smutty three part series and wooo we have part two here. But I'm working on their backstory and how they grew close together. Don't know when I'll post it, but feel free to share anything you think could be in their past. Please give comments and reblogs to recharge my writing batteries 🥺.

What did you give a man who wanted for nothing? 

Men who came from nothing always had a long list of wants. Titles, riches, property, women. He had his title, General Marcus Acacius. Riches by virtue of his position and the most powerful woman through marriage. All he resisted accepting when given to him. 

It worked in your favor that he was never one who wanted for much. Surrounded by people with ulterior motives that they wished to achieve through proximity to you, it was easy to notice the man who merely enjoyed your presence. As a child all he wanted was to learn to fight for Rome. As a man, he fought at the frontlines. 

It helped in convincing your father that Marcus Acacius would be the biggest asset to your rule. It did not help when pondering upon the best reward for his victory in battle. Honoring him with medals was out of question for it was too early in your reign. It could be seen by some as favoritism towards your husband rather than a suitable accolade for bringing victory to Rome. So you decided on something unofficial. 

“It is a beautiful villa.” 

“I do not disagree, Caesarea,” he said, rising from his chair in front of you. He had changed from his ceremonial armor to his most favored toga and palla. “Only, it is not much of a reward for me when I have no use for a villa without my dear wife in it.” 

“I can be in it,” you said, a suggestive smile playing at your lips as you thought of the things you could do with him there. 

“That merely makes it a villa for us to retreat to. Like the many other villas you own.” 

“This will be a villa you own.” 

“It matters not who owns it. I have your villas to visit. I do not need more.” 

“Any other officer would be grateful.” 

“This officer,” he said with a playful glint in his eyes as he trapped you against your desk. “is married to the Empress.”

“And now I pay the price for it,” you said, reaching out and taking the edge of his palla between your fingers. The dark green threads woven into the borders were soft to the touch, calming you the way they’d been for years. “Put me out of my misery, will you? Tell me what would satisfy you.” 

“You, Caesarea.” 

“You have me.” 

“On the contrary,” he said, placing his hand on the back of your shoulder where no fabric covered you. You took a deep breath, affected by having his touch once again long after the nights you shared in the camp. “Rome has you and she is too possessive to allow me full reign even for a few days.”

“You would wage a war against her to have me?” You teased. 

“Rome must understand I come in peace,” he said as he caressed your cheek with the back of his hand. “I only want her Empress’ attention for Rome’s benefit. So she may rest easy knowing we are hard at work producing heirs who would serve her. Besides, I don’t want her to feel the wrath of a weary Empress. She must give you respite from aqueducts and roads and—” he said, scrunching up his nose and nodding at a scroll draped over your desk. “Sewer maintenance.” 

“I cannot avoid the unpleasant subjects, Marcus.” 

“I know,” he spoke gently, the same boy who saw the girl behind the Princess was embracing the woman behind the Empress. “I only ask that you find respite. Perhaps we shall retire to one of these villas for a while. When the senate is in recess. You are warranted some relaxation after your tireless war efforts.” 

“I did not fight on the battlefield, General,” you laughed. 

“I did. The victory is yours and the people sing your praise. They know Minerva has descended from the heavens in the form of their Empress. Your father was praised for victories that other Generals brought Rome and you deserve it for your first victory as Empress. I hear whispers of attempts to separate you from this victory, my dear, and we must not allow that.” 

You took a deep breath, trembling as you exhaled. He was right. Had this campaign ended in loss, you would’ve borne the wrath of the people. Why then should you not enjoy the fruits of victory? 

It was a tantalizing offer. You hadn’t had much time for yourself ever since it was decided you would ascend the throne. Less so since you became Empress. As long as you worked tirelessly, you could stand up to criticism. There’d been attempts brewing all around you to bring you down. If you looked away even for a moment... 

As though he understood what ailed your heart, he pulled you into his chest, broad and strong to hold you as you held all of Rome. He said, “I understand your worries. But you cannot give up all joy to prove yourself to a people who will never stop finding fault. Remember, they are not the arbiters of your worth. Only the Gods have such power over you.”

You smiled a half smile, took a deep breath and relaxed against his chest. “I could never cease worrying about my place.” 

“Allow me to ease them if only for a while each day.” 

⌘

Nothing good came from marrying the General of your army. 

It was what your father told you when you expressed to him that you wanted to marry Marcus. Generals married women from the Emperors’ families to strengthen their bond and prevent one from overthrowing the other. But the brides tended to be the Empreror’s daughter or sister. Not the Empress herself. To invite a man to your bed was to submit to him and a ruling Empress cannot afford for him to be powerful and an object of public adoration. 

You should have listened to your father. 

You were certain that Marcus would never overthrow you or influence your rule as though he himself was Emperor. But you never realized just how much torment the powerful man could inflict upon you on a human level. 

“I hate you.” 

“You don’t.” 

“I do!” You snarled like an untamed beast awaiting gladiator blood. “I hate you and I will have your head on a stick at the gates of Rome if you don’t do as I say.” 

“Isn’t that quite an overreaction, my dear?” He asked, touching the peacock feather to your swollen cunt. You shuddered under him, the weight of his knees on your spread thighs preventing you from kicking about. He laughed and bent down to kiss you, laughing when you turned your head away. 

“Fuck you!” You spat, squealing when he dealt a sharp slap to your core. 

“Is that any way to speak to your husband?” 

“It is if my husband is a monster.” 

“Does it make me a monster to exact my marital rights from my woman?” 

“Are you just a boy, Acacius? Do you not know that exacting your rights requires using your cock?” 

“My marital rights entitles me to your body,” he said, demonstrating it by pushing two fingers in your cunt and curling them inside as though grabbing you. “And I will do what I please with it.”  

“I have marital duties and I can’t perform them when you are fully clothed and refusing to let me touch you.” 

“Your duty is to please me and I decide what pleases me. As you decide what pleases you.” 

“You did not please me last night and your most certainly haven’t pleased me this morning.”

“What kind of woman demands carnal pleasure…” he taunted, laughing when you punched his chest with every ounce of energy you could muster. In your defence, you did not have much energy left owing to his hourlong torture. That reminder didn’t make you any less embarrassed. 

“You did this to me,” you whined. “I wasn’t this way before you fuu aaah—” you cried when he pressed his palm to your sensitive nub. You grabbed his wrist as he rubbed it in circles but did not attempt to pull him away. You hated how he could control you with a simple touch but your refusal to stop him showed you were a willing prisoner. 

“I have no complaints,” he said as you moaned under his expert touch. “I like you this way. I like that I can bring you to this state. My fiery princess who rebelled her way to the throne obeying me like a mare in my reins.”

You were most certainly not obeying him. “I—I— not, mmm—” Whatever you were doing now, it was more humiliating than obedience. Every word you’d learned refused to find your lips, leaving you making pathetic sounds like a wounded animal. 

“What did you say?” 

“Fuck me!” 

“Yes, Empress,” he spoke softly before tying your wrists to the headboard with the veil he’d taken off you the previous night. He knelt by the bed and pinned your thighs in place, making you shudder with anticipation of what you knew would come. 

He dove into your cunt like a man starved, tongue lapping up your slick as his nose pressed against your clit. Marcus had never tasted anyone before just as every self respecting man. But that was before you cried from the pain of penetration the night of your wedding. Your suggestion that one of your ladies could ease you open for him with her mouth had sent him over the edge. He was not going to allow someone else to have even part of his bride. Especially not on his wedding night.

Curiosity got the better of him and time was running out to consummate the marriage. Curiosity gave him the most delicious way to bring you to heel. To make you sleep rather than work all night. To relax you when you were wound tight with frustration. To erase all worries from your heart and replace it with marital bliss. Whoever decided it was beneath men to lick cunt certainly did not know what it could do to a woman. How it made them wail and moan and forget their own names. 

You were a scholar of many disciplines, an intellect who had made scholarly men from all the world bow to you in awe. Marcus did not read much. Only that which you made him read. It was no surprise he felt most powerful when he rendered you speechless. 

“Marcus!” 

He hummed as he licked you, hating to interrupt your desperate cries even for a moment but not so cruel as to ignore when you called him. Every cry of his name emboldened him in a way that crowds of Romans screaming ‘Acacius!’  never managed. 

Fresh bruises blossomed on your thighs where he held you down. No matter who won this battle, he knew you would accrue more. He only hoped you would leave more crescent shaped marks on his flesh in the process. Though immobilized, you did everything in your control to avail more of him. You thrust against his mouth like a man would force his member inside a lowly man. But shame did not find Marcus as your movements were accompanied by your needy sounds. 

Your cunt dripped arousal and he lapped it all up like honeyed fruit at his victory feast. This, your taste, was all he longed for when at war. He had been a married man for only a short while. Had played the role of husband for a much shorter time. But he loved it instantly because it was a life to be had with you. It was cruel that he was snatched away from it almost immediately. Now that he had returned, he had every intention of compensating for lost time. 

You got wetter under his tongue and fingers. Your thighs kept his head between them in the sweetest prison. Your cries of his name deteriorated into incoherence noises until all he heard was your silent breaths. 

In moments, you would come undone on his tongue and he would taste your nectar. But not that day. He pulled away, grinning when you cried as though in pain. Your hole fluttered like a beating heart and he longed to return to it and provide all that it desired. He needed to fill you with his cock, feel your tight wet walls embrace him as he spent his masculine energy on his woman.

But he wouldn’t. Not until you broke and gave in to his demands.

He climbed back into bed and pulled you close. For all your claims that you hated him, you were quick to burrow into his chest. You were still trembling from your ruined pleasure as you had multiple times since he woke you. 

“Please,” you sputtered through trembling lips. 

“You know what to do,” he said, reminding you of the conversation from last night. If you wanted to earn the joys of carnal pleasure, you would stop working yourself to your grave. The Royal physicians had made it clear that stress was detrimental to conceiving an heir. You wanted terribly to conceive. But like a child, you wanted to achieve it without compromising on any aspect of your current life. 

“None would need to know of my absence but a few. But I fear I would continue to be stressed about the goings on in the palace. Father is becoming older and…” you sighed, not wishing to speak the words aloud. Death came to all. Father was looking forward to it, tired of the ailments that crushed him the way his fears over his incapable sons once did. But you wanted to give him a grandson so he’d journey to Elysium in peace. 

“Have your people report to you wherever we choose to go,” he said as he released you from your veil that bound your wrists. He caressed your hair and you relaxed under the warmth of his touch.

“I could,” you said as you burrowed into him. Your imagination flooded with the streets of Tibur and all that you could do together as husband and wife rather than Empress and General. The last time you were there together was as Princess and the only soldier you trusted with your life. Tibur was only a half day away by carriage. If you were needed, you could rush back to the capital. It was also a beautiful place. 

You had access to the grand villa that was passed down generations of Rome’s rulers. There would be no awkward asking of permission from Father. No lies or excuses as to why you needed such a place for a whole month only for yourself. There would be no need to explain the General’s month-long holiday coinciding with yours. You were Empress and it was known to all that Marcus was your husband. It was also expected that you conceive an heir. 

You could do as you wished. 

“What do you think of Tibur?”

“Obnoxious.” 

You laughed, knowing his distaste for the rich crowd that liked to spend their coin there. Every politician at the capital he found intolerable flocked to Tibur. 

“I can do Tibur. Urgent work can be brought to me there. I have a villa where we won’t be disturbed by the obnoxious type you hate so much.” 

“I will go anywhere with you,” he said without theatrics. Casually. As though he was telling you what he had for dinner. 

“Careful, Marcus. I might take that as a challenge, take you to some terrible places.” 

“I would enjoy Tartarus if it were with you.” 

“I thought you were no poet.” 

“I am no poet. I am but a man and you torment me,” he said, sounding very much like the poets you’d read. 

“I torment you?” 

“You do. The Gods have condemned me to Tartarus for all the sins I have committed in life.” 

“Oh? So you claim to be dead now.” You thrust against him, feeling his cock come alive quickly from how long he’d deprived himself of you. “What I want most is alive so I’m not too hurt.” 

“I should have known you only wanted me for my cock.” 

“It is an impressive cock, Marcus,” you said, beginning to stroke him. You watched as his breaths changed, relished just how he did in toying with you. It was the only time he was ever cruel with you. You didn’t know he was capable of such evil until he played your body like a flute, his mouth and fingers making you sing wherever they touched. 

You gathered up saliva and spat on your hand. The jug of olive oil was a little too far away to access in your state of mind. 

“Thank you, Caesarea,” he said, arms spread on the top of the cot as he watched you work his cock. “Will my cock be rewarded too?” 

“Why?” You asked, an eyebrow raised. 

“For being so impressive.” 

“It hasn’t done what I require of it,” you said as you stroked him torturously slowly. “It hasn’t been in me since you returned from the battlefront. Now that you mention it, I should punish your cock. Show it what Tartarus truly is since the man it is attached to believes to be there already,” you said, adding a flick of your wrist as you stroked him. He whimpered, giving away his approval for this technique. You bit the inside of your cheek, holding back a smile. 

“Not being inside you is Tartarus.” 

“Is that so?” You asked, feigning sweetness in your tone. He’d had the upper hand since he first bedded you. But you were learning some tricks too. The man was not always in control as he wished to be. A servant girl let you know that they sometimes liked to recline on the lectus and allow a woman to act upon them. Some of the ladies had told you ways to take some control from the husband. You used your other hand to cup his testicle. He whined, very unlike himself. Very unlike the General of Rome. Oh how delicious he looked powerless beneath you. He reminded you now of the young boy from your childhood. His vulnerabilities surfaced on his handsome features and he grabbed your wrist but did not force you to stop.

“My dear husband, if you knew it was Tartarus, why did you inflict it upon yourself?” 

The man who gave you the ultimatum was nowhere to be found. “A month long retreat or you won’t have your drooling cunt stuffed,” you said in a deep voice with the intent to sound like him. “How does it feel now, Marcus?” 

“Temptress!” 

“Oh I don’t know to tempt. I have been wed only a short while and my husband refuses to fuck me. Where could I have learned to tempt?” 

“Don’t forget I knew you before you became my wife,” he said, pulling you onto his lap. You yelped at his sudden movement but adjusted yourself on his lap. You were close enough to see every pore on his skin. Every individual curl drenched in sweat. “I remember the women you wove with. The sounds you made when that light haired girl snuck into your chambers at night.” 

“How improper of you to listen in on your Princess.” 

“You simply sounded too good. I couldn’t stop myself,” he breathed into your ear, making you shudder at the thought of him stroking himself to your sounds. “I should remind you what you sounded like so you may be charitable in my sentencing.” 

Before you could make sense of his words, he pulled you flush against his chest. A cry escaped your lips at the sudden penetration of your cunt. You grabbed his arm, your nails sinking into his sun kissed skin as you sunk down on him. He had spent all morning licking and fingering your cunt, never allowing you to reach completion for you had not yet agreed to a month-long retreat. Yet you were unprepared and cried out. 

“Do your duty, mea vita,” he said, rolling his hips. You should have felt a semblance of power at being atop him. But he was still the man. A bull of a man, large and powerful, capable of throwing around men larger than you. 

“How?” 

His hand snaked up to your breast, fondling the flesh absentmindedly. “Fuck yourself on my cock, girl. I thought I taught you better.” 

The walls of your cunt squeezed around his cock at the way he spoke to you. No one called you girl. A beautiful girl, a smart girl, always with some praise attached. It ceased when you became a woman. You became a Lady. With increasing power, that reduced as well. 

Marcus truly was the only one left with any power over you and it did not frighten you one ounce. 

You held onto his shoulders as you rose off his lap and sunk back down. 

“That’s it. Keep going,” he said and you nodded. Encouraged by his words, you fucked yourself on him. Great men kept an aura of power about them. Luxurious fabrics, glittering gold and gemstones, smaller men they looked at like dirt beneath their sandals. Marcus hadn’t adopted that way of life. He didn’t need to accessorize to look mighty for he exuded it. 

“Put your feet flat here,” he said, pulling your feet to his desired position. Suddenly, the motions were easier. He knew what to do even from his position. Had he let another woman be atop him this way before? How else did he know? Jealousy tried to reign over you but Marcus and his words reined you in. He issued commands- change angles, see what feels better, hold on to me, clench that hole around me—

“There you go, good girl,” he praised, his voice ever so slightly strained as your actions affected him. You found ways to make it easier, more pleasurable, and he encouraged you. 

He gripped your jaw and prodded your lips with two fingers. You opened and he thrusts them inside your mouth like it was a whore’s cunt. When he pulled out, a string of your saliva connected you until it didn’t. He took his slick fingers to your cunt lips, finding the small spot of pleasure he’d used all morning to turn you into a blubbering mess. 

You thrust yourself onto his cock for as long as you could. Having been out of battle and behind a desk for too long, you found that your stamina had reduced. When you’d grown tired, you changed your position intuitively. One foot remained on the bed beside him while the other knee supported it on his other side. The position had you lie on Marcus and the quickness with which he held you to his chest made you melt like sugar in the rain. 

No longer able to thrust, you reduced your motions. You rubbed your too sensitive clit against him, not needing the taxing up and down motions for your own benefit. You did not know if this change brought him any pleasure. You did not care. He had been cruel all morning and did not deserve for his pleasure to be placed ahead of yours. 

He tipped your head up to meet his beautiful brown eyes and kissed you. Not the polite kisses you shared in front of others. It was the passionate kind shared only between a man and his wife. The kind you theorized to be laced with opium. Why would it be restricted only to wedded couples if not for its intoxicating nature? Why else would it be lowly to kiss so in public? 

He was a taste you couldn’t find anywhere else. Would never seek anywhere else. It took your breath away, but you kept at it. His tongue explored between your lips how they did between the lips you kept hidden. His taste was of you, a little salty and sour with a hint of sweetness. It was how he’d described you. Like your slick was a novel wine presented to you at court. 

Marcus’ heart beat rhythmically against your ear as you lied atop him, your hips still rolling in pursuit of the orgasm you’d been chasing for so long. One hand cupped your bottom, encouraging your movements. The other cradled your head to his chest, holding you like you were something precious. He whispered sweet words to you, his voice strong yet soft. Thoughts purged from your heart. Thighs shook and toes curled. His words drowned in the same pool of darkness that you did and suddenly, a blinding light. 

He must have moved you. You were still above him, but your weight didn’t seem an issue to the great general. He rutted in and out of your trembling cunt and another orgasm built up though you hadn’t recovered from the first. A cry escaped you as your clit, rubbed raw, hurt from the friction. 

“H-hurts,” you stammered, placing your palms against his rigid chest and pushing yourself away from him. 

“Now?” He asked, fucking up into you. 

“Mmmm!” Was all that you could bear to spurt as indescribable pleasure sunk its teeth into you again. 

He grunted with each thrust and you panted from the effort of trying to catch breath. You could’ve died there atop your love and it would’ve been the most merciful death. He was everywhere. Hands and lips grabbed at your flesh. Every lick and pinch and bite was him taking what you’d surrendered to him the day you wed. 

A growl of your name and you felt a warm spurt deep inside you. You felt safe, properly claimed. You wanted to stay there, forgo work and set off to Tiber as soon as you could. 

“You have a busy day ahead, Caesarea.” 

“Are you going to call me Caesarea when your cock is still inside me?” 

“Rome does not gain a new Empress upon the location of my cock.” 

You snorted and buried your face in his chest. It would soon be time to wake. Servants would mill about the room with food and drink, preparations for a bath, scrolls from officials. Marcus would be away overseeing troops restoring a dam and then conduct an inspection of a health center. 

He laid you out on your back and placed a rather large cushion under your bottom. “Keep me inside you as long as you can.” 

Warmth reached your face and you wanted to hide. But there was nothing to hide. Not from the boy you’d leaned on since childhood. Not from the man who had become to you as roots to a tree. 

“You should have a drink,” you said, testing the waters. You trusted him, of course. But you were a woman and men had expectations. You were his Empress but also his wife. There was no precedent to the right conduct in such a marriage. 

Under the sight of others, you kept to passum* as a married woman. You couldn’t break too many rules. Only that which were most important and only at the right time. Nevertheless you asked for wine so you could find the boundaries of your marriage. It felt rotten ro test a man who had only ever been good to you. But not knowing something so important about your intimate life made you feel ill. 

Where would Marcus Acacius draw the line? How much would he tolerate? 

“Only if you would join me."

⌘

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*Women were not allowed to drink wine in archaic Rome. Women drank alternatives like passum, a raisin wine.

[sorry-not-feeling-it-right-now]

Ohohoho, I see more stp related character ask games. In which case, thoughts on Hunted? Could always use more Hunted content out here

(Ooooo Hunted!!! The silliest of fellas)

(And as I’m writing this my appreciation for him just skyrockets ten fold. He makes me. Let’s just say. Feral.)

(Ask is here!!! vvvvvv Sorry that it looks like this, I’m on IPad🗿)

(Also the reply is getting too long (again), sooo gonna put a cut somewhere here…)

FAVORITE THING ABOUT THEM

Probably how reliable he is in general. I feel like he’s probably the voice that is the most loyal to Quiet alongside Hero. He just really doesn’t seem like the type of character to have any hidden agenda underneath his actions. He’s just, when he thinks of something, he’d just do it instinctively. I love how he just focuses on the now and what’s happening around him, and doesn’t rely on what he sees only. He’s a really simple guy and all he really wants is safety. And I really like that about him. (The contrast between him and Oppy is glaring here)

And also despite the fact that instinct is a big part that makes him “him”, he’s not completely feral and still holds that humanity inside of him. I think he’s pretty darn neat.

LEAST FAVORITE THING ABOUT THEM

It’s how little he had appeared 😭😭😭

He needs more chapter 3 appearances aside from his own

Both him and Skeptic need more chapters actually.

(And honestly I don’t have much “””bad””” stuff to say about him. He’s just overall a very likeable character to me)

FAVORITE LINE

“Does a cat lie to a cornered mouse just to play with its freedom, or is it acting out its own nature?” (You’ll see this line again)

“The Look. We’ve all used it.”

“Looking at her makes me sad.”

BROtp

Gotta say Hunted and Witch. Hunted pairs well with many other voices and vessels, but the thought of two semi-feral characters interacting with each other is kind of adorable to me. Just. Similar brain wave signals. Vrrrrrrrr. Y’know.

Witch would just sniff Hunted and be like “hmmm he doesn’t smell like a liar to me” and she would just be chilling with him with half an eye closed and half of it open. Just in case. And Hunted just sees her as someone who’s gotten hurt. And had to fight back like a scared animal. So I think he would empathise with her. Idk.

Stubborn and Hunted is a good one too. I could imagine Stubborn and Hunted just sparring with each other whenever they could. The battle always ends in a stalemate though, since Hunted just dodges Stubborn’s attacks most of the time. And by the time Hunted is tired dodging Stubborn is tired as well. But knowing Stubborn he would try to throw a punch at him anyway. And then failing cause they have bodies now. Stubborn takes it as a challenge and is thrilled to see what other stuff Hunted could do. Unstoppable force vs Immovable object.

And the mental thought of Stubborn throwing Hunted like a Pokeball and be like “Hunted I choose you” is just so funny to me. And. Just. Hunted riding on Stubborn’s shoulder. So cute.

OTP

He honestly pairs well with a lot of them tbh, so I don’t think I can choose an exact one.

NOtp

I have none hehe

RANDOM HEADCANON

He would sometimes bite the other voices to show affection. If he is feeling really bite-y that day he would just find something to chew on just so he won’t accidentally hurt the others.

Also, the current smaller form you see of him is not his full form. That’s just him holding back his more feral side, and hence why he looks so tiny. He’s way taller and stronger than he looks.

(Sneak peak of his feral form!!!)

A more antsy head canon I’ve got for him is that a part of him always have this urge to consume the other voices since they are technically parts of the same guy. He feels really guilty about feeling this way. When that feeling is too strong he would lock himself away from the flock until it passes.

UNPOPULAR OPINION

(This is becoming less of an unpopular opinion and more of a ramble as I’m writing this, but I’m just gonna keep this here because I think this is pretty interesting)

I feel like he would take an integral role in helping the other voices in fighting against their nature, since he is so used to doing that himself. Many of the fics I’ve read where the voices are starting to become more complex and more than their nature often doesn’t mention Hunted at all. He would definitely take a role in helping the voices manage their own urges in a way that doesn’t hurt anyone, knowing how he empathises with Den despite everything she has done to them.

He shines the most when he is paired with Oppy regarding this. Oppy embraces his own nature, and often times to his own detriment. Hunted wouldn’t trust him, but he would still protect and look after him anyway since he is still a part of the flock. If Oppy ever shows an ounce of genuine interest in fighting against his urge to betray people for his own benefit, Hunted would be one of the first ones to help and encourage him.

“Does a cat lie to a cornered mouse just to play with its freedom, or is it acting out its own nature?”

Nature vs Nurture baby!!!!

SONG I ASSOCIATE WITH THEM

Butcher Vanity, specifically him in Den where he goes completely feral

And also Kaibutsu/怪物. It can be a shared song between Hunted and Oppy, but mostly Hunted.

FAVOURITE PICTURE OF THEM

(I love it when I just draw him like a fu@king creature)

(He’s so derpy-looking here)

[violetdisasterzone]

For the ask game: 2, 6, 15? 👀

from this ask game !!

2. a compelling argument for why your fave would never top or bottom

I prefer the bingqiu dynamic over qiubing for a lot of reasons, but I can at least understand why some people feel like Binghe would be okay with switching if Shen Qingqiu wanted to. but you can NEVER convince me that Shen Qingqiu would top. that man is the most pillow princess whore (affectionate) ever. is part of it caused by his odd relationship w gender dynamics and his self perception of filling the wife role? probably. is part of it also just a cover up for the fact that he prefers being passive and is a total size queen? definitely. do we remember when he was almost disappointed that Binghe wasn't chaining him to the bed like in his meimei's danmei? do we remember the ass wine?? you think those are the thoughts and actions of a top?? absolutely not

6. which ship fans are the most annoying?

Liushen fans. a lot of them are just having fun in the fanon sandbox exploring a dynamic they liked in canon, and I totally respect that (even if I dislike the ship myself). but there is also a not-so-small group who fully believe that liushen should have been canon, that sv is not a good book because of bingqiu, and even actively hate Luo Binghe. this group also tends to spread a lot of misinfo, like that Shen Qingqiu is only with Luo Binghe to keep him in check and doesn't actually love him, or that Maigu Ridge was full on assault (on Binghe's part). alas, what can we do but block and move on. I can always just go read the actual book to see my ship together and happy, unlike them;)

15. that one thing you see in fanart all the time

ooh I've got a lot I could say for this one. and ykw I'm just gonna make a list:

Shen Qingqiu with green eyes - and he looks stunning every time, but his eyes are actually just a normal dark color

Binghe permanently depicted in tears - the puppy eyes are powerful but next time I reread I'm going to have to pay attention to how many times he actually cries (and it's def not in front of anyone but Shen Qingqiu). let the man be the badass emperor he is too!

Xin Mo - I love seeing everyone's interpretations on how it would look, how fancy the design is, the size range, whether or not it's leaking ominous black smoke. honestly this applies to everyone's weapons to some extent, Xin Mo is just the most unique design

and here are some things I want to see more in fanart, for fun:

Binghe with more demonic features

Shen Qingqiu with Binghe's huadian/in his colors

monsters!!!

characters that have no canon/semi-canon depictions (like the other unnamed peak lords, random demons, those three fujo nuns, etc)

[spacejade]

Dawner/Twilight and Hero party focused chapter directory

Have you ever wanted to revisit a certain moment but couldn't remember the chapter? Sleepy Princess in the Demon Castle aka Maoujou de Oyasumi aka Maoyasu has so many chapters and the titles aren't always helpful so I compiled a list of the most relevant Twilight/Dawner (AkaTaso) chapters on my reread! I've also noted down the chapters focused on the other members of the hero party, since they are so few. Hope this is helpful!

Disclaimer: This post is for those who have already read through the entire series and just to be able to jump to certain moments to reread. I encourage new readers to read the whole thing without skipping. There's just so much to love about this manga!!

Dawner/Twilight focused chapters

Ch53: Suya's nightmare of Dawner from their childhood. Now that I think about it, it mentions the time that Dawner went missing (and met Twilight), so it's related(?). It's also the first Dawner-focused chapter in the whole manga

Ch257: Twilight's first love story, of his time with Dawner 15 years ago.

Ch 70: Twilight and Suya have a practice pajama party and the first hint of Twilight's love story. It's not really related but I'm including it since it's directly related to ch257.

Ch232: Twilight turns small after using up his magical energy. @pathfinder7007 reminded me of this small moment where Dawner recognises young Twilight's voice!

Ch316, 318-319: THE Dawner/Twilight reunion, and Twilight's reaction to it.

*ch317 is Harpie+Suya taking care of the sick cursed musician, if you were wondering what was missing

Ch332: Not the focus of the chapter, but Zeus and Twilight talk about Dawner for a bit after saving Goodreste Royal Academy, and you can see some of Twilight's reaction here.

Ch334: Leo gets Chamos to investigate Dawner. Not much on Dawner/Twilight themselves and more on Leo's reaction to it, but we get Dawner's full name here.

Ch339 (Kai runs away from the demon castle)+Ch346 (Suya's bar): These are actually focused on Twilight+Kai but they are also about. This.

Ch384-386: The Hero Party in the demon castle's dungeon mini-arc, up until Dawner meets Twilight (again)

(fun fact, the deserted island was first shown in ch300, the beach chapter)

Ch391: Dawner's reaction to finding out that Twilight is Dee

And that's where we are now! Will I get to update this post next week or will Kuma-sensei make us waiting another 70 chapters?? How exciting 👀

(Bonus: Way back in Ch22, Twilight already had nightmares abt disappointing the Hero. I thought it was interesting how he's always wanted to impress him, even without the connection to "Hee")

Hero Party focused chapters

Other than those already mentioned, here are the chapters focused on the hero party, since they are so few. I didn't include minor 1 frame appearances (especially in the first few chapters) but let me know if anyone wants that too

Ch77: Suya meeting Dawner in her dream. The first time we see Dawner's personality in the current time besides minor appearances

Ch83: I said I wouldn't include minor appearances but look at Dawner being a lil (clueless) shit here. The chapter is focused on Suya's childhood stories but Dawner is there for 2 panels, which i might as well just post here

Ch105: Poseidon tells Dawner that Suya doesn't want to go home. Again a minor appearance but it says sth abt his personality

Ch137: Sunrise's introduction. Queen.

Ch151: Princess Robo Mark III vs. the hero party. Not focused on the personality of the hero party but they sure are there a lot (?)

Ch227: The chapter is actually focused of Zeus+Poseidon but. is this anything

Ch233:Poseidon teaches Suya how to do pull-ups(?official translation?) backflips feat. a tiny flashback to Dawner giving Suya more trauma

Ch238: The lost teddy demon is found by the hero party (hooray! finally another proper Dawner-focused chapter!)

Ch242: The lost teddy demon from Ch238 starts to imitate Dawner and Suya gets suspicious. Really shows what she thinks of him lmao

Ch287: Neo Alrune battles the hero party. I feel like this counts as a Sunrise chapter, yes?

Ch352-353: The hero party at the fake inn. The Waker focused chapters!

Ch383: The suspension of the hero party's quest, right before they go into the demon castle dungeon. Kisho focused with more insight on how the team works together

That's about it for now. Honestly I was shocked at how far apart the chapters were.... How long has Kuma-sensei been cooking... Now with the plot developments I hope we get to see more of the Hero Party though!!

Also please let me know if there's any chapters I've missed or you want included. With nearly 400 chapters there might be stuff that Ive missed... 400... that's crazy.... may maoyasu go on forever....

[sensitivepluto]

Connected

Short & Sweet - Day 7: Invisible String

Touya Todoroki x Gn! Reader // angst (if you squint)

[Warnings]: Touya in general, swears, villain reader, death mentioned

This is @thewritingstar's prompt list - here's a link to the post!

There's an old saying. Something about how there is an invisible string attaching two people together. The details vary, but the general gist is that no matter what happens if two people are destined to be together - they will always find each other.

When you met Touya, you were both young. Maybe eight years old. The memory was a little fuzzy now, but you bumped into him at the park. Well, more like crashed into him. You were running around at full speed, not paying attention, just a kid. Consequently you collided with him head on, knocking the both of you down.

You sat on the ground, rubbing your now throbbing head. The kid before you also nursing his own before getting up and standing over you. Truthfully, you believed he would yell at you for being so clumsy. That's what always happened. But instead the boy held his hand out to you, still rubbing his head with the other.

"You need to watch where you're going." He grumbled, helping you to your feet. A quiet hum left your lips and you wiped your dirtied pants off.

"I'm sorry." You mumbled. The boy cocked his head at you, perhaps expecting more from the kid who was playing at their heart's content. Measly, you looked up at him. He had snow white hair and these blue eyes that shone with...determination. You also noticed patches of darkened skin littering his otherwise pale complexion. It intrigued you.

"You gotta staring problem or something?" He barked at you. The intensity scared you into your shell a bit more. He was loud and demanding, but even so you felt a strange...pull to him.

"N-no..." you stammered out. "What happened?" You braved, pointing to the darkened skin. He hummed in question before looking to the spot you pointed out. It was like he didn't even remember it was there.

"Oh. That's just from my quirk." He shrugged off. "I gotta keep practicing so I can be a hero! Just like my dad!" Suddenly he got super excited. The light in his eye brightening. A hero. The thought had never occurred to you to be a hero. It was much too scary and you were far too timid.

"Hero..." you muttered. The boy grinned wide, and he grabbed your hands suddenly.

"Do you wanna play hero with me?" He was jumping up and down now. "My mom says my brother Natsu is too young, but you'll play with me right?" So you didn't have much of a choice. You didn't have many friends, given you were so quiet. This boy in front of you was eager to play, and it made your chest stir. A smile widened over your face.

"Sure!"

The memory haunted you as you sat for his ceremony five year's later. Dread sat heavily in your heart while the eulogy was given for your friend. You were told that his quirk overpowered him, burning him to ashes. Even the thought of it made bile rise in your throat. There was nothing left of him? You refused to accept it.

All there was to represent him was a picture on a podium. His face, showing a reserved smile, did nothing but make you so angry. How could they have let this happen? How did nobody know what was going on? These heroes that plagued your city did nothing while your best friend burned himself alive.

A hero. That was all he wanted. He wanted to be a hero. He wanted to make his dad proud. His dad. Your eyes burned into the back of his skull while he sat there so stoic it made you want to vomit. Didn't he care? This was his son. Where was he when this happened?

You were still so young, so you didn't know how to explain the growing anger in your chest. All you knew was this "trust" you were supposed to have for the heroes protecting the world started to fizzle out on this day. And the path it would lead you down wasn't bright for anyone.

Now it had been, what, four years or so since that day. And your path strayed further and further down this rabbit hole of destruction. You had no care for the system the world had set in place. You had even less care for the people who were benefitting from it.

The memory of your best friend still hung heavy in your heart, but it became a much more manageable type of grief. Grief that you turned into anger, and anger that you turned into pure unadulterated malice.

You were met one night by a man, Giran he said his name was. Somehow he'd found you and propositioned a group for you.

"They ain't much yet, but I think you'll fit in well." He said. You had no reason to trust him. For all you knew he was about to lead you to your death, but you followed him anyway. It was like someone was pushing you to go with him, and so you did.

He lead you to a door attached to a building so decrepit it threatened to fall down around itself. Doubt lingered in the back of your mind, but you steadied yourself. The man knocked on the door in a repeated rhythm, clearly a signal, and the door opened for the two of you to enter.

It was a dingy little bar that you were led to. The people inside looked to you with question. Immediately the man sitting at the bar and the man behind it stood out to you. They were the two who escaped that attack on that stupid hero school. You thought to yourself.

Intimidation was something you rarely felt, but their presence shook you a bit. You looked around to quickly identify the other people lounged in he bar. A lizard, you observed, a high schooler, a redhead, and...

Your gaze wandered over this other individual sitting on a dingy orange couch. His hair was pitch black, patchwork of burned skin littered with staples, and his eyes locked on yours, so blue and so...familiar.

An ache in your chest distracted you from the question given by the man at the bar. Your eyes stayed glued on the ebony haired man.

"Hey, are you deaf? What is your name?" The man at the bar groaned out, now up and walking toward you. You answered lowly.

"My name is (Y/N)." The eyes of the man you were locked into widened ever so slightly. No one else would've noticed it, but you certainly did.

Your interview of sorts was brief. When you explained that you held a deep hatred for the hero system and that you wanted them all to crumble, it was clear that you'd fit right in.

They mentioned that they had a spare room above the bar. Perhaps a bit dirty and the bed was old and creaky, but it was a space for you to stay. You thanked them, and the person behind the bar - introduced to you as Kurogiri - offered to show you up.

"I got it." The dark haired man grumbled, getting up from the couch. "I'm going up there anyway." He gave you a two fingered gesture to follow him upstairs. And you obliged quietly.

The walk up was agonizing. Questions swirled in your head as you made your way up the stairs and into a dimly lit hallway. Once you were just out of earshot, he grumbled quietly.

"Long way from home. Aren't you, doll?" The question lingered in the air for a moment. You pondered what to say, but you could only answer with another question.

"Are you...What is your name?" His footsteps came to a stop, and he turned to look at you head on.

"I go by Dabi." Your heartbeat was rapid. Everything in you was telling you that you knew this man in front of you. It couldn't be. It absolutely couldn't be.

"Dabi..." You repeated slowly. "Sorry. You just look like my best friend, To-"

"Don't say that name." He warned, his eyes glistening with a newfound look. It turned you meek and the name caught in your throat. You stared at him for what seemed like an eternity. It felt like you were going to cry.

"Is it...you?" You mumbled the question, just like you used to when you were little. The tough resolve of yours was crumbling to the ground. The man clicked his tongue at you, a smirk playing at his lips.

"You're taller." It was a simple observation to answer your question. "I thought you'd never grow." That simple statement crashed down around you. It was him standing in front of you. He was alive. His stupid barely visible smirk was teasing you just like it used to.

Tears sprouted in your eyes. You'd told yourself that you would never cry again. Crying was for the weak and you weren't weak anymore. But they were streaming down your face in an instant.

"I thought...I'd never....see you again." You sobbed out, trying desperately to compose yourself. A dry chuckle left the man and he reached to hold your chin with his scarred hand. With the other he haphazardly wiped the tears from your cheek.

"Well you found me, doll. Quit the waterworks I hate that shit." He teased you. But how were you supposed to help it. Somehow, after all these years, you were led back to him. The universe pushed you down this dark path that only brought suffering to you and/or others, but it all led you to him. It all led back to him.

Masterlist

[sheawritesstuff]

Wedding Headcanons / Predictions

✩ Aggro gets dressed up with a little bowtie and gets to be the ring bearer

✩ David cries during his vows and Ash makes a joke about it

✩ Asher has to run around last minute to find something he lost / forgot

✩ Someone references Gabe being proud of David

✩ Milo brags about how good he and Sweetheart look together / jokes about outshining the newlyweds

✩ Sam complains about having to dress up

✩ Christian says something snarky and gets put in his place

✩ David and Darlin have a dance-off at the reception

✩ Somebody jokes about how "busy" their honeymoons are gonna be

✩ Darlin gets to be part of the wedding party

✩ Caelum hangs out and watches the wedding and tells Gavin and Freelancer about it

✩ Marie gets onto the boys for roughhousing at the reception and Sam offers to help heal any bumps and bruises if they get too rowdy

✩ They've gotta have at least a couple shifted wedding photos - just imagine all the wolves in their fancy suits

[crybaby-bkg]

cw: mention of previous abuse, dad Dabi, mom reader, mention of childbirth, angst

new dad touya that doesn’t know how to deal with his son. he’s growing too fast and his smiles are so big, but he’s still not sure how to just be with him.

touya isn’t abusive in the slightest, not like his shit for brains dad. he can acknowledge, after you’ve drilled it into his head on cold nights where you had to hold his quivering cheeks in your hand, that he’s better. that he’s trying. that he’s a great dad.

he doesn’t really believe it. it’s hard to believe that he’s a great dad when his son, still covered in that fresh newborn smell, stares up at him with matching azure blue eyes, the little shit, and he finds it hard to smile back. it’d be easier to smile back if he could guarantee a life with no trauma, with the perfect pair of parents, that he’d love him as much as his tiny little face deserved.

touya can still hear the labor and delivery nurse tell him that he must’ve gotten on your nerves for the baby to look so much like him, and that they’ve never seen a baby that fresh out the womb smile so big at their dad. he hands the little bundle back to you, and glares at the nurse who hands him a tissue. he takes it anyway.

touya loves his son. so goddamn much that it hurts, but, he doesn’t know how to be a dad. and he knows that you don’t know how to be a mom either, that it’s a learning process for the both of you. but he’s so scared—he’s terrified that he’ll fuck up this innocent brat with his ruin. with his scars and history and the want to better but never knowing how to just be.

so he leaves. it’s the day after your sons first birthday that you celebrated together in your home.

you thought everything was okay, that he was starting to get the hang of being a dad. he did everything right, why couldn’t he stay? he sat on the floor with your son and changed his diaper and made him giggle those addicting baby giggles? he carried your son everywhere whenever he cried after being sat down without a single complaint? he helped him open his birthday presents? he didn’t smash the cake in his face, only swiped a little icing on his sons nose to hear that addicting baby giggle? he held your son like he could never let him go?

how could he just go like this? you thought he was finally learning and accepting how to be a dad? what happened?

[fandomingrandom]

Living in my head this and rent-free that. Yknow what.

I think they SHOULD pay rent!!

If you’re going to affect my brain chemicals 24/7 then I’m going to uphold my rights under capitalism as a landlord and charge for that!!!!!

[beloveds-embrace]

can we get Duchess reader yearning for a baby of her own 🥺 imagine there was a Ball in the neighboring kingdom and Duchess!Reader and Duke!Price was invited, celebrating the birth of the Kingdom’s new heir, a baby boy on her fellow Duchess’s arms.

And reader coos at the baby while masking the deep ache in her heart thinking that it’ll be so impossible to have a baby with her husband due to him and his lovers 😢

cue to Duchess!Reader having a heavy heart through out the entire event and even the days after that, until one of our boys asks her what wrong.

(And John having to hold Johnny back bc that nasty dog has been waiting to get his paws on her since forever)

Oh my god yes??? Anon i could smooch your brain right now yes??? This is so good i love it. Sorry for the abrupt ending though, had no idea how to finish it off 😔

Original Post

“Such an adorable little one,” you coo softly, the newborn held delicately and carefully in your arms, swaddled in the baby blue blankets you and John had bought among your other gifts for your fellow Duke and Duchess. “He looks so much like you, I’m in awe.”

Your friend laughs lightly, sipping on her drink. With a soft sigh, she leans closer towards you. The party is in full swing, so many other nobles mingling and networking, but thankfully you and your friend have your own little corner for now and everyone has already congratulated her and her husband.

“So,” she begins, her eyes flickering towards where both of you two’s husbands are speaking. The smiles on their faces are clearly happy, though you aren’t surprised; John had mentioned that he’s already friends with the Duke during the carriage ride. “So. What about you and Duke Price, hm? Any surprises we should prepare for?”

Ah. You had been dreading this.

You sigh, shaking your head. Though the smile returns as you gaze at the napping baby, so small and precious in your arms. With you friend’s permission, you gently kiss his tiny little fists. “Not at all. We are happy as we are.”

And it’s not as if you are lying by any means, oh no. You are happy. Life as Duchess was far, far much better than you had expected it’d be, a lot less restrictive than you had prepared for it to be.

But…

You can’t lie to yourself. You’ve been feeling a sense of discontent from the very second you stepped into the gala venue. Perhaps for even longer, though it hadn’t been especially felt until this moment. Not until you held this baby in your arms.

You want a baby, too, you had realized. Motherhood. A child all yours, calling you momma and toddling into your arms. You had been unable to stop yourself from feeling the little bud of jealousy towards your friend, because you knew you’d likely never experience such a thing due to your unique situation.

John has his own partners whom he loves. You weren’t among that list, and you didn’t particularly enjoy the idea of having sex with another man with the potential risk of your parents, or anyone else, asking for a paternity test because you know someone would ask. Your mother, probably; she was always warning you not to whore yourself out, and your father didn’t even need to say anything-

“My dear?”

John’s concerned voice pulls you out of your thoughts, his hand gentle on your elbow, and it’s only then you realize you had been staring down at the baby with such sadness, so not befitting of such a beautiful gala. So you shake your head, clearing your thoughts, and turn to him and your friend's husband.

When the baby squirms, you coo softly and hand him back to your friends, gentle and careful. That's when you turn to John, giving him a simple smile. "Yes, Your Grace?"

The worry remains on his face, less visible however, and his eyes look over you carefully. Your friends are too busy with their son and showing him off to care about what you two are saying in the corner he’s led you to. "Are you alright?”

As if you’d ever tell him what the issue is. You don’t want to make John feel pressured into this, of all things. You’d rather be divorced than do so, and that should speak volumes on its own.

It’s a silly want, anyways. You have everything you could possible need right now, married and stable. You aren’t about to ruin it with your own two hands.

So you nod your head, and brush away all thoughts of a little baby cradled in your arms. “Yes, I am. I was just lost in thought. Shall we return to the party?”

John observes you for a few seconds more, and then he sighs and nods. “Very well. Would you do me the honor of this dance, my dear Duchess?”

Between the dazzling lights and John’s arms, you can almost forget the lingering desire.

But over the next few days after the gala, it becomes clear to John- to all your the men that something is terribly bothering you. There is a lingering sadness around you so profound even your maids have sensed it, wondering if perhaps you and the Duke have finally had your first fight… but he looks even more more worried and confused than them. You weren’t mad at anyone, that much he could tell, but he didn’t understand the heartache plaguing you.

“…are you sick, my lady?” Kyle asks you one day, placing down a tray of fresh desserts. Your favorites, all made by Johnny himself, yet you barely flick a look towards it.

“Not at all. Thank you, Kyle, but I’m afraid I can’t eat anything at the moment.” Your reply is soft, patient, as it always is, but the furrow in your brows remain and your frown deepens. Kyle hates it. He hates it so, so much. You’ve even stopped taking your usual break-walks, staying inside your room and asking for nothing in particular.

“My lady,” he presses on, voice softer. Comes to stand close to you, and holds his elbow out. “Maybe a walk, then? You look tired. Some sun might do you good- or a picnic? I can pack the desserts and-”

You avoid his eyes and look away, shaking your head. “Thank you, but my answer’s the same, Kyle. I’d just… like to be left alone, please. Could I trouble you to also inform John I won’t be joining him for dinner tonight?”

You are simply glad you managed to hide the little paper you’d been writing on before he came in. Baby names, for the babies you’d never have. It certainly didn’t help make your mood better, but you couldn’t help yourself. Looking at John, or any of them, also made you feel guilty anew.

“…not a problem, my lady. I’ll leave the desserts here for you just in case.”

Several days later, it’s Johnny who comes to you. You are alone in the conservatory, trying hard to get over this stupid, lingering feeling. It’s silly, you know it is, but… ugh.

Johnny says nothing even when you call his name out with a questioning tone, and much to your shock, he kneels down to take your hands in his. It’s so wholly inappropriate, and you look around in fear of anyone seeing.

“No one’s around, m’lady,” Johnny shakes his head, not letting your hands go yet.

“Johnny-“

“No one’s around.” He repeats, firmly, and his eyes gaze at you. “M’lady. Have we made ye angry? Has anyone made you upset? Is my food not to your liking?”

“Johnny…” you sigh, shaking your head. Inwardly, you scold yourself for bothering everyone like this. This should have been your issue alone to solve and hide. “No, no. Nothing like that. I just need some time alone, in general.”

“But why-“

“No particular reason.” You quickly cut him off, gently pulling your hands away. “Please, Johnny. I’ll get better soon, promise. But I just… need time.”

But the desire, the longing, still remains. You can’t even confide in anyone, so you also feel painfully lonely on top of everything else. John is still searching, still trying to find what or who’s made you like this, but not even your closest maids are of help.

Still, while you wished to wallow your misery away in your rooms and office, you didn’t have much choice when you’d received an invitation to the opera troupe funded by the Price duchy; making an appearance was a must, and unfortunately John had a very important meeting that day so Simon is the one to accompany you.

“You’ve been sad lately.” Simon doesn’t beat around the bush, all the lights focused on the stage so you are both draped in shadows, hidden from sight.

You turn to him, a refusal on your lips already-

“No.” He shakes his head. “You aren’t just tired, Duchess. You are sad. Everyone can see it, and it’s making us worried. All of us.” He adds, not letting you latch onto your usual excuse. Performance ignored, his entire attention is on you.

And you are just- too tired. Ashamed of yourself, you sigh.

“It’s awful of me…” your whisper, bottom lip quivering. “I-… I want a baby, Simon.” You admit, so softly and quietly you don’t look at his reaction to see if he’d even heard you in the first place. You shouldn’t be telling him of all people your issues, but- you can’t help yourself. “A child. I want to experience motherhood, but- I don’t, I refuse to put such a burden on John, or get in the way between all of you again-“

You ramble on, not meeting his eyes. Your hands are tembling around the mask you’d taken off, holding it in your lap.

Simon?

Simon can’t take his eyes off your stomach. You. You, pregnant; swollen and glowing with a child. Maybe children, even. Their children. His. He can’t believe this is what has had you so upset for so long; did you think they- John- would say no to you?

“Darling, ” The nickname slips out; he couldn’t help himself. He is glad the no one is paying attention to them, in the higher rows. Simon laces your pinkies together, raising your hand to kiss your knuckles, silencing your worried rambling. “Darling. Let us return home. Staying here isn’t doing you any good. Tonight, I want you to let Kyle spoil you with a warm bath, and for you to eat and then sleep. Rest. Tomorrow, we’ll speak. I’ll inform the troupe leader you weren’t feeling too well.”

“I- I… speak about what? What?”

Simon simply ushers you out, to the awaiting carriage. He doesn’t answer any of your questions, even when you pout and the it makes your lipstick glisten to prettily, though if you can feel that his hands are inappropriately tight around your waist, you simply blame it on your tightened corset.

At home, you are still confused. Simon is acting off, staring at you with a look that makes you all flustered, but you don’t protest when Kyle gently leads you away.

You’ll get your answers tomorrow, you are sure. But in the meantime…

“She wants a baby, John,” Simon groans, repeating the words again. His jacket is thrown off to the side, sleeves rolled up his elbows. Even from here, he can see how John eyes them appreciatively. “A baby, John. Seeing her pregnant-“

Another groan, but the one comes from between John’s thighs. Johnny, hands tied behind his back with Simon’s belt because the second he found out what the issue he was so, so ready to go and beg you to let him fix it. A bairn is what you want, a bairn is what he’ll give you- chunky, adorable, and hopefully looking like you.

John had to hold him back, though. He wants nothing more than to do the same, kiss you breathless and promise he’ll give you as many as you want, but he also knows you need a clear, rested head before he speaks with you.

The thought of seeing your pregnant, though, has his fist tightening in Johnny’s hair.

“I know. Fuck, I know, Si. Tomorrow, I’ll speak to her.”

[carebearbussy]

ᥫ᭡ thinking about heian era! sukuna having a heavy breeding kink, seemingly out of nowhere.

you bring up a mere idea at dinner, the conversation quickly turning normal, to you bringing up an idea he had never given a second thought to.

"do you ever want kids with me, 'kuna?"

you would ask him, innocently enough, a sickeningly sweet tone hidden beneath your words. but you would already know the answer to this question. he would look up at you, then back down at his food, annoyance pondering his mind. eating a slab of salmon sashimi, he took a bite, chewing slow enough to hint at his potential answer. placing down his chopsticks, he would look back up at you, scoffing to himself at your foolish inquiry.

"those small, annoying humans that require too much attention for their own good? no thank you, i have better things to attend to."

he says, focusing on the meal before him. but his thoughts soon get the best of him. and now that he thinks about it, he will need an heir eventually. and not only that, but what would you be like? as a mother specifically. you would require more attention than most of the time. which was something he secretly enjoyed indulging in, despite his negative reasoning towards infants. how would you look?

you would be more swollen than usual, you stomach would grow larger by day, your breasts will most definitely become more full by the day. the bigger picture, which was you, enticed him in a way. something about seeing you round with his child really had his head going.

and so thats how you ended up here, you knees tightly locked against your stomach, as sukuna absolutely plows into your already stuffed cunt.

this was the seventh time? eighth time? at this point, you couldn't keep track. but he had came wayyyy too many times more than an average man should be able to. it was excruciating, really, the whimpers leaving your mouth, his hands bringing your knees closer to your chest with every move of his hips.

his seed was leaking out of you, glop by glop, dripping down your bottom even more, as he kept going harder and rougher. splashes of your juices paired with his cum stained the bed, the squelching of your pussy becoming deafening with every smack of his heavy balls against the rim of your ass. and the tight grip he had on your locks wasn't helping his case.

"hah, you're gonna give your king his offspring? yeah? r' you gonna be a good little mother f'me? make me an heir?"

he asks, your head barely able to focus on anything other than trying to stay sane. you felt sooo full, but this apparently wasn't enough for sukuna, or his heavy urges to breed your sloppy cunt. you nod eagerly, not wanting him to go any harder than he already has. but with the way he kept abusing your womb, it seemed like you were enjoying it, as sukuna relishes in your facial expression, your eyes rolling back, your mouth hung open wide enough to stuff two of his free fingers in.

"you'd be such a good mother, so obedient too. you wanted to rile me up, didn't you? i'll give you what you want, woman."

moaning into his fingers, you swirl your tongue around his digits, making him hum contently. you try to focus your vision onto his eyes, but the way he pushed his chest further into yours, had you practically cross eyed. hitting a new angle, you felt yourself completely let go, officially adding onto your list of orgasms you had previously had that night.

he released his fingers from your mouth, a coat of your saliva stringing upon release. he ceases to pull out of you, instead letting himself nuzzle nicely into your warmth, releasing yet again inside of you, earning a whine of complaint on your behalf. he playfully slaps your cheek with his wet hand, trailing it down to your pussy, playing in the ring of his semen around his cock. you squirm slightly, as you watch him then bring his cum coated fingers up to your mouth, pushing them back inside your mouth, making you taste his seed, some of his cum pooling around your lips.

"does that taste good? i bet it does, since you seem to love my seed so much. i cant wait to see you so full, besides from right now, of course."

[angelltheninth]

Arcane Characters Find Out You Haven't Had Your First Kiss Yet

Pairing: Jinx, Vi, Caitlyn Kiramman, Maddie Nolen, Ekko, Vander, Silco, Sevika, Viktor, Jayce Talis, Mel Medarda x Fem!Reader

Tags: fluff, kissing, first kiss, flirting, banter, shyness, gentle kissing, musundertsnadings, age-gap, experiance gap

Ko-Fi | Rules | Fandoms and Characters | Commissions

A/N: I have kissed people before and I know I wanna kiss all of them too. They deserve kisses, they need kisses.

"Ya've been starin' at me for an awful long time now. Not that I mind, your eyes are real pretty, sugar. But ya've got me all curious now." Jinx invaded your personal space like it was no big deal and leaned in so you had but inches between you.

You pressed your lips together and fidgeted in your seat. "You... I was wondering have you kissed anyone before?"

"Well here and there but not recently. I've got someone I really wanna kiss now." She pointed at you and tucked a hair behind your ear. "Wanna make out? I don't have any important things to do for a few hours?"

"Few hours? People make out for that long? Wait no, that's not what I want to do. I was curious cause I never kissed anyone and I was wondering if you... maybe wanted to kiss me?" With a slightly bashful tone you met her shiny purple eyes which only seemed to get brighter as she closed in.

"Do I wanna kiss ya? I wanted to since I saw ya! Been waitin' to get asked. Ya know, gentlewoman and all that shit." She wasn't one, not by a longshot but she also knew she could cross boundaries easily, this was one where she was more than willing to wait. "Pucker up quick!" You only had a second to react before harsh lips closed over yours, her thin but strong arms locking you in place on the chair. "Mwah!" Jinx cackled when she pulled back. "There. That's one thing to cross of your list. Can't wait for more." Winking she spun around in her chair and did a little happy dance.

Everyone knew Vi was a bold one, what she wanted she went for, often with little questions asked. She spent the whole date taking initiative, taking your hand, showing you the best places in Zaun, and a few at Piltover too, although she didn't know as many that were cooler than Zaun's. At the end of it she walked your home.

"I live in a safe neighborhood, Vi. There's no need for this." You argued as you fished for your keys to unlock the door. As you did you had full intention to invite her in.

"You never know when someone might try something. You're too cut to pass up on, sweet thing like you, bound to attract eyes. People might get ideas. Like this." Before you knew it, she pressed both hands against your hips and kissed your neck. You nearly dropped the keys when you felt the bolt of excitement run through your body. "See what I mean?"

Gulping you turned your head to hers. "Y-Yeah." She smirked and cupped your chin with the opposite hand, bringing you closer. "Vi, hold on." You turned your head back towards the door. "I never kissed anyone before." The whisper pierced through all the horny energy in Vi's body.

Her hands dropped from your hips. "Oh. Well now I feel like an ass. Since you let me walk you back and all, I thought... sorry I don't know what I thought. Do you want me to leave?" She waited for you to turn around and was surprised when you cupped her cheeks and leaned in. Her eyes widened for a moment before closing, right as your lips met in the middle. The grip on your hips returned, but it wasn't as strong as before. She wasn't the only one who could initiate.

You could look far and wide and you wouldn't find a bigger gentlewoman than Caitlyn. She asked if anything she did was wanted, if it was okay, if you liked it. Some of it came from her Academy days, some from her upbringing but she was never pushy with you.

It was actually you that noticed she was glancing at your lips a little too often while you were helping her sort out through the many documents she apparently had to bring home to work on. "Today was supposed to be our date, seems to me like you're dating your work as much as you're dating me." You teased and watched her huff.

"That is not true. You are infinitely more attractive, darling. I wouldn't kiss the papers but I would kiss you any day." Caitlyn flirted back and set the mentioned papers down. "In fact... I could use a little break from this. And you're right, tonight is our date night. So, tell me," Caitlyn walked up to your side of the desk and leaned on her hands, her face above yours, "would you do me the honor of kissing me?"

A heavy blush bloomed on your face as you felt caught in her crosshairs. When she got serious about something she saw it though until the end. That's how she was looking at you now. "I'd love to kiss you, Cait."

She chuckled at your breathless tone. "I'll go slow. It's your first kiss, right? I figured from the way you'd blush and turn your head when I'd lean in." Her gloved hands slid over your hands, giving them a comforting squeeze. "Close your eyes for me, darling." The moment you did you felt her lips against yours, perfectly falling into place.

"You're joking, aren't you? You haven't kissed anyone? No one? Not even a little?" She tried to hide her amused smile behind her hand but it was futile. You rolled your eyes at Maddie and then threw a pillow in at her head.

"First, how do you kiss someone a little? And second, you know I've barely dated before this. You're the first girl I'm kinda serious about. Thought that waiting to have my first kiss would be... you know romantic?" You shrugged and hugged the other pillow close to your chest. Maddie let out a loud 'awww' and hugged you tight, kissing your cheek.

She laughed when you tried to push her away for making fun of you.

"Now hold on. I think that is really sweet of you, love. Not many people out there have your romatic mind and I love that about you. Also, real sweet that you want to kiss me out of everyone." Her hands pressed upon your shoulders and her smiling face approached yours. "Do I get to do that now or...?"

You could see how eager she seemed now that she learned all this new information. "I mean... if you want." Your hug around the pillow tightened as you tried to will yourself to calm down. On the outside you were calmer, ever pushing back into the kiss, sighing contently against Maddie's lips, but on the inside, you were a damn mess of anxiety. "Shhh, it's just me, remember?" She cooed against your lips and waited for you to relax, massaging your shoulders before leaning in for a second, longer kiss.

This was more of a dare than you wanting to kiss anyone tonight. It wasn't your fault that all your friends knew about your big crush on Ekko and roped you into a game of darts that you lost and therefore had to walk over to him and kiss him. Your friends watched you fumble over to him, all giggling.

Ekko looked at you a little bewildered. "Look, don't ask, this was all their idea." You pointed behind yourself at your friends. "They dared me to kiss you so, if you wanna kiss me... you know, cool

"I've got nothing against kissing you, firefly, but I'm a little confused. Thought you didn't mess 'round with friends like that." Ekko did, you knew but you always thought that if you crossed that line with him there would be no bottling your feelings back up. And standing here in front of him, asking for a kiss, you knew that was true.

"I don't mess around with friends. But they won't leave me alone about not kissing anyone yet and you were the safest bet. Plus..." You moved from foot to foot, like that would shake off your nerves. "I like you, Ekko. As more than a friend. I have for a while."

All the chatter from around the two of you seemed to fall into a void. Ekko opened his mouth to say something but you kissed him before he could, too scared of a rejection and too high strung to think about the fact that you might never get this chance again. But to your surprise he kissed back, his full lips pressing hard against yours. "Thought you'd never come out and say it. Damn, been waiting to hear those words since forever." Ekko hushed against you before he dragged his lips from the corner of your mouth to your ear. "I like you too." He confessed with a whisper.

"Don't you let what those assholes said get to you, darlin', their mouth is bigger than their brain." Vander cleaned the dirty glasses behind the bar as you handed them to him one after another.

You grimaced, remembering all the teasing, quite rude teasing might you add, that you endured before Vander stepped in. "I could have kicked them out myself. Besides what do they care if I'm dating you? Not like you gave me the job because of it." They said a lot more than that but you didn't even want to go through all of it.

"Hey, you do great work here. The kids love you; I love you. All that talk about tradin' favors, bunch of bullshit, that's what it is. Besides, I know you've kept to yourself more than others around here. Got nothin' against that. If anything, makes me a bit nervous. I mean, you really want this old man to be your first at everything?" He scratched the back of your head as he remembered the night when you cuddled and you confessed, he would really be your first everything, not just your first relationship. Since then, he'd been a bit jumpier.

"Vander, you're a bit more than a decade older than me. We're both old. And when you get to my age and you haven't done anything, people talk. So, I can't really blame them for thinking what they do about me getting a job here. It's shitty yeah, but like you said, they're just assholes. I want you to be my first kiss, first everything." You confessed and suddenly you noticed Vander wasn't cleaning glasses anymore. He still had the glass and the rag in his hand but he wasn't moving at all.

You seem to have stunned him with your words. There was an old story you remember, about a kiss breaking a sleeping woman from her slumber. With a cheeky grin you pushed yourself up on the bar to get high enough to kiss him. Vander let out a sound of surprise but quickly melted into the kiss. The sound of the glass shattering also shattered the quiet moment you shared and you parted, laughing. "Well, I'll be damned. Seems like there are still things that surprise me."

Silco didn't hear anything from you about the status of you kissing or not kissing anyone. He heard it from Jinx, who heard it from Sevika. And to think one of your best friends would rat you out to her boss' daughter like that. "I'll kill that mouthy bi-" Your threat stopped on your lips, silenced by thin lips. "Silco... what the fuck?"

"What? From how I heard it, you really wanted to kiss me, but were to scared of looking desperate. Best to get things like this over with fast, otherwise they clog up your brain with unnecessary worries." He spoke like a true businessman. And at his core he was one, a corrupted one, and really good at his job.

Still, you looked at him, blinking slowly, still feeling his lips against yours. Your fingertips touched the tingly flesh.

"Silco... that was my first kiss! You asshole!" You pushed him and he did take a few steps backwards. "This is why you can never tell anything to anyone around here!"

Like it was messy he fixed his tie and vest, tugging until they were to his standard again. Then he walked up to you again, his orange eye trained on you like a cat's eye on a little mouse. "Did you hate that I did it? I was never good at asking for permission when I wanted something, or forgiveness. However, if you need an apology from me, I might consider it."

Despite the imposing presence you weren't scared of him at all. "For god’s sake, Silco, I didn't hate it. You could have put more effort in it though. You know, make it more romantic for a lady, sweep her off her feet and take her out to dinner." It was like this man did every romantic thing backwards. He slept with you before he asked you out, he never even asked you out officially, just told you he liked spending time with you, and now this. "You're hopeless sometimes."

When she heard what you said she couldn't help but let out a full belly laugh at it. "Jerk! I'm being serious!" You smacked your fists against her shoulder, which only made the big brawler of a woman laugh more. Sevika never had the most tact or subtlety, or was the best at keeping her emotions in.

"I know you are! Which is why it's so damn funny. I mean shit, sweetheart, haven't kissed anyone? I see you tearing up that dance floor every night with me. You're telling me no one ever got lucky enough to kiss you on the lips? On the other lips maybe?" She wiggled her eyebrows at you.

"You're gross sometimes, you know that." You smacked her on the bicep again, and at the next attempt she grabbed your wrist and pulled you into her lap. Your whole body went hot when her thigh flexed between your legs. "Sevika, what are you up to?"

Sevika grinned wolfishly as her hand grabbed your ass. "I'm about to kiss you. Tell me if you want me to stop." She wasn't exactly asking but she also didn't want to force this on you. When you didn't put up and resistance and tugged her a bit closer by her shirt, she leaned in to capture your lips. Like with everything else she couldn't be gentle, she didn't do gentle. The kiss was rough, passionate, with too much tongue for you who never kissed anyone before. "I'm gonna teach you how to do that better."

"Will you?" You asked all breathless and with wide pupils. One simple kiss made your whole body feel like fireworks were going off. "Better make up for you making fun of me."

Viktor was very perceptive of things that interested him. You were one of those things, even before you became his girlfriend he always listened when you talked about anything. It was his first clue that he liked was in love with you.

He noticed you always seemed to be looking down at his lips more than the things he was writing whenever he was explaining something. "You know, if you want to kiss me, it's as simple as asking." He teased as his fingers traced the pages; he was reading out to you.

"O-Oh. You noticed that did you?" You looked away at the big wall of notes behind him then back at his smiling, knowing face. "Who am I kidding, of course you did. Don't get me wrong, I want to kiss you, Viktor. But I'm also nervous because it'll be my first kiss." He closed the book, with a bit more of a thumping sound than it was warranted. As quickly as he could he crossed the distance between the two of you. His hand lifted yours to his lips.

As shy as he could be with his touches, sparing even, reserved, he found it very easy to touch you and it made your heart skip a few beats every time. Viktor was comfortable with you; he teased you like it was no big deal and would hold your hand when walking through the halls.

"I must confess, darling, I don't have much experience with kissing, or anything of a romantic or intimate nature. I've only been in a few precious relationships before. However, if you allow me, I would love to be your first kiss, today." He emetized the time with a kiss on your fingers, then your knuckles, then across your arm, your jaw. And finally... your lips.

"Do you want to be my first-" You couldn't ask anything more because you heard and saw Jayce drop the hammer he was holding on his foot and was now leaning against his desk, cursing under his breath. "Kiss. My first kiss, Jayce. Get your brilliant mind out of the gutter."

His cheeks got hot when your eyes met across the room. "Your first kiss. Uh... you never kissed anyone before now, babe? Sorry if it sounds like a dumb question but... how? I mean you're the most beautiful, amazing woman I know!"

When he finally put his foot down, confidant that it was okay to do so, he scratched the back of his neck, further adding to his confused look. You sighed. "Thank you for saying all of that. I suppose I wanted it to be special. You told me you've managed to find a breakthrough in your research, so I wanted to reward you, and myself." As you approached him, he got a big, dumb grin that stretched all over his face.

"I see. A reward. If I knew I'd be getting one I'd spend more sleepless nights here." He wrapped his arms around your body when you stepped close and pressed your bodies close.

"No, you wouldn't. I would drag you back to your bed if that's what I had to do to make you sleep properly." And you really would have done that. For right now though Jayce did a good job, and giving him your first kiss was a reward. Jayce approached you slowly, taking great care to be gentle when kissing you, to not get too carried away. He didn't, he kept it to a gentle, long kiss, but quickly got in a few more when you tried to pull away. "You giant dork."

Mel gave you a goodnight kiss but as soon as she felt you stiffen, she pulled back. She frowned when she noticed how nervous you looked. "What's the matter? Darling, are you cold? Your hands are shaking?" She ran her thumbs over the back of your hands.

"Nervous is more like it. That was my first kiss." You said with a shy smile and tried to go in for a second one. But this time Mel stopped you, her hand acting as a barrier between you two. "Hm? What?"

"Your first kiss. And you only tell me that after I've kissed you. Have I known I wouldn't have rushed into it." She sighed heavily and looked almost guilty. She kept replaying her interactions with you in her mind, you were very confident on your date, you flirted with her quite boldly too. And when you kissed her hand, she thought you wanted more.

"What? No, Mel, I'm happy my first kiss was with you! It was perfect!" You quickly spoke up to assure her. "If I didn't want it, I would have stopped you before. But holy crap, do you have any idea how much I wanted to kiss you?! I mean honestly, do you! I hardly worked up the nerve to ask you out tonight." You scratched your cheek nervously and avoided her eyes. This felt a little embarrassing to admit when you worked so hard to remain calm and project and air of confidence with her.

Chucking into her hand, Mel cupped your cheek with the other. "Is that so? If that's all then I'm glad. You don't have to pretend with me. I can assure you too, if I didn't like you, I wouldn't have said yes to our date. Much less kissed you. However, if you would allow it, I would like to re-do that kiss." Mel took your chin between her fingers and brushed her thumb against your lower lip, parting your lips just a bit before kissing you again.

[evanhereonearth]

The Insidious Cycle of the Abuser Who Says They Love You: Mythal and Solas

Likely goes without saying, but Veilguard spoilers all under the jump.

I have been absolutely wrecked by the end scenes in Veilguard for weeks now, and I want to do a deep dive into Solas's relationship with Mythal and how it absolutely reeks of abuse. Long post incoming!

CW for heavy discussion of cycles of abuse, trauma response, and abuse tactics.

When I finished my first playthrough, this moment hit me like an absolute freight train. His visceral response to her presence and the way he instinctively retreats and flinches back/puts out a hand to protect himself is a full-blown trauma response.

And then she starts talking and moving towards him, and it gets worse.

Solas curls in on himself; his body goes even further into self-protection mode. His face is downcast, not the way he bowed to his vhenan moments before with a straight back and open posture, but shrinking.

And then as she advances, he cowers.

He completely folds inward. He crumples; he shakes, he hyperventilates, and the moment she reaches for him, he fumblingly offers her the lyrium dagger to kill him with.

Is this shame? Yes, of course, but it's far, far more than that.

For the sake of brevity, I'm going to limit this list to the four most widely recognised trauma responses:

Fight

Flight

Freeze

Fawn

As someone whose primary trauma response is fawn (wooo CPTSD), which is intensely common among people who experience complex trauma, especially through emotional and prolonged physical/mental abuse where their needs are discarded, pushed aside, or otherwise steamrolled, I felt this right alongside Solas. My own body responded to seeing it. This is, quite frankly, one of the most visceral and realistic (and extreme) fawn responses I've seen depicted in media.

Mythal in this scene is...phew, something else.

"She was the best of them," Solas tells us in Trespasser.

But she was not good, everything tells us in Veilguard.

Let's look at his regrets in chronological order.

Through Solas's memories of regret, we see this germinate in his foundational regret: leaving the Fade to take a physical form.

He does not want to do this. He tells her he does not want to do this. From the conversation, it's clear it's not the first time she's asked.

And the way she asks? Outright coercion.

"You have so long observed the world. Why not consider joining it?" [I want you to do this thing, so I will frame it as logical for you to make the choice I want you to make.]

"But I have no desire to live as humans. Besides, this talk of taking on a solid form. I think you underestimate the danger." [I don't want to do that. It does not feel safe to me.] "When you took the glowing stone to build your body, did the earth not shake?" [This is dangerous and selfish.]

"The lyrium gives us the strength we had when we were of the Fade; we are the best of both physical and Fade." [It makes us powerful, so I don't care about the risks.] "I need your wisdom, Solas, to withstand the louder voices like Elgar'nan's who would go too far." [If you do not come with me, a tyrant you abhor will make others suffer.] "I need you."

"This is madness. You must know that." [I don't want to do this at all. This will hurt me. I don't want this.] "I will always follow where you go." [Because I love you and trust you.]

Mythal's words in this part are classic abusive framing. When appealing to his natural curiosity does not work and he expresses strong rejection of her logical thought process (just because I have observed this place does not mean I want to go there, echoing his comments to the Inquisitor in DAI: "Many Orlesian peasants dream of travelling to exotic Rivain. But not everyone wants to go to Rivain!") and expresses that there is significant danger to continue to build bodies out of lyrium, she changes tactics.

Her second tactic is that it gives them power--she implies that he is limited and not enough for being only of the Fade. If he follows her, he will be the best of both, like she is. She clearly already sees herself as above him.

Her third tactic is pure emotional blackmail: "I need you. I will give in to the tyrants without your wisdom, and having your counsel in the Fade is not enough. If you don't go against your own nature and desires, people will suffer...and it will be your fault for not being by my side."

She doesn't say those things outright, but they are implied by everything she is saying. He says again he doesn't want it--that it is madness and that she must be aware of that despite her ignoring any suggestion that she actually is. All she is seeing is power and her desires: for Solas to do what she wants him to do.

So he agrees. Because she is his friend, and she says she needs him.

As far as core wounds go, this one is a doozy. It's absolutely brutal, because it's irrevocable. It's a point of no return. It's the first in what will become millennia of regret, of her ignoring the Wisdom she coerced out of the Fade to do what she wants regardless, to continue to push him to twist his nature under the guise of the greater good, to continue to cede to Elgar'nan and enable the very tyrants she promised him to balance.

This regret was deeply painful for me to watch. The nuance here is easily lost if people don't understand abuse tactics and how this sort of manipulation is used. It also serves to bind Solas to Mythal, an enormous sunk cost fallacy in the making--once he has made this choice, there is no going back.

And you see Solas curled in on himself in anguish and regret from the trauma of taking a physical form. It is in deep, painful contrast to his open, free wingspan as a spirit of Wisdom; he will never be the same.

"Have you created what we need?" From the outset Mythal is framing this as his idea as much as hers, when from everything he says, that is not true.

"With this, the proper ritual will sunder every Titan from its spirit. But you must know, those severed dreams will certainly be driven mad, a disembodied blight of pain and anger. It--is--awful what we are doing."

"And the only way to end this war."

Again, Solas offers the wisdom she claimed she took him from the Fade to listen to. He warns her, again, of the danger. He does not want to do this. Just like he warned her of the earth quaking when they made their bodies--they, the Evanuris, started this war by taking what they wanted regardless of who it hurt. He never wanted to participate in it, but now he is in the middle of that war. Mythal was one of the initial perpetrators of this war; she brought Solas into it against his will because he loved her, and now he's stuck. He is past his point of no return. And she is still using his heart against him. She has isolated him from everyone he knew in the Fade; he has no one to support him. He. Only. Has. Her.

This is another classic abuse tactic; if the person being abused has no one else, they will continue to enable that abuse even if it harms others, because they cannot see a way out. If you don't do what I say, it will destroy our children, our family. If you don't do what I say, this war will consume all you have, and you no longer have a home to return to. If you don't do what I say and hurt yourself and the Other, more will suffer, and it will be your fault.

Again, his posture, curled up and broken, appearing to cradle a now-tranquil Titan beneath him--and be embraced in return. This is an interesting artistic choice here, one that aches. It speaks to the depth of his own wound and how much it rent his own spirit to follow through with Mythal's wants here; that it sundered him from his spirit as much as it did the Titans.

"You cannot do this, Elgar'nan! You swore we would give up our commands when this war was over!"

"Our people need our leadership. If you are unwilling, leave."

From Elgar'nan, this is expected. From Mythal?

"Our people must rebuild. And we must help unite them."

Solas, once again, betrayed. He put his trust in Mythal and in the other Evanuris to follow through with their promise. Everything he has done thus far is poisoned in this moment; had the Evanuris indeed stepped back rather than stepped on necks, perhaps Solas could have healed, found a way to live with what he had done, maybe even to make amends. But this starts his war anew--and Mythal is standing with his enemy despite her promises, despite every wheedling word she's used to get what she wants from him over the centuries and longer, despite him turning from everything, everything, he loved to love her. This is the moment where he understands that he has only been a tool to her all along.

"So we did not fight for freedom, but to conquer this land and our own."

Let's pick apart Solas's words.

So we did not fight for freedom: He truly believed that he was fighting for freedom, that no matter how bad it got, that he could bear it for freedom.

But to conquer this land: Literally the land, I think, because of the Titans. To subdue them at all costs. This was not what he came for, but he believed Mythal.

And our own: Our own, our people, more spirits we gave bodies for this war, more who may not have wanted to leave the Fade. Our own, our people. To Solas, he is one of them. In this moment, he realises how much Mythal holds herself above all of them.

Elgar'nan's words are all too telling: "We fought to win. And now the Evanuris are as gods. I do not answer to Mythal's annoying lapdog."

They all--all--see him thus. As her pet.

Because he is. She has, until now, controlled him utterly with her manipulation and "need" for him.

"The people are afraid. They must believe in something." Mythal does not even stand up for Solas here; she does not reject Elgar'nan's perception of him. All she does is further distance herself.

The people are afraid: The Evanuris made them. They are as controlled as Solas and more.

Elgar'nan asserts, "They need strength."

"And wisdom." Mythal has the absolute gall to attribute this to herself, when Solas is the source of the wisdom she "needed" for so long. (Belated addition: And another level here: she may also be saying again that she needs him, but doing so in a way that doesn't require her to stand up for him directly. Honestly, fucking gross.)

"They need gods who can protect them," Elgar'nan continues.

"We are not gods. You will learn that." Solas's voice here is pure defeat. The scales are falling from his eyes.

"Every lapdog holds a wolf inside," says Elgar'nan.

Solas knows that Elgar'nan's "protection" is hollow, based on subjugation. And I think in this moment, he learns that Mythal's is based only in her belief that she is better than those beneath her, who cannot possibly handle themselves.

So her lapdog becomes the Wolf.

"I was not certain you would come."

Solas's opening words in this regret show the distance between them already and how much he has realised he does not know this woman who called herself his friend.

And her response is to instantly blame him.

"You are the one who walked away. I never turn my back when my friend needs me."

In putting this post together, this line absolutely sucker punched me. I've watched these several times already, but the absolute audacity to blame him for standing up for his principles for the first time against all her manipulation? Hoo.

She blames him for doing just that, "turning his back when his friend needed him." She needed her enabler, and when he stopped, she turned bitter. Just like any abuser.

That he goes straight into "The Evanuris seek the magic of the Blight" instead of engaging, honestly shows that he's still Wisdom. That is one battle that is unwinnable, trying to stand up against an abuser's bullshit like that.

"Impossible," she says. "The Blight is safely sealed away forever."

Gaslight, girl boss, gatekeep.

"Though I wish I could believe you." [You have lied to me so many times.] "I have sensed the breaking of the wards."

And her answer is patronising. "I will investigate your claims." [I don't believe you.] "If they forget the danger of the Blight, I will endeavour to remind them."

Solas knows this is futile. "What if, instead, you left the Evanuris and remained with me? Do you not wish for freedom from this struggle?"

He asks her, again, to veer from the dangerous path. He desperately wants to believe he was not completely wrong about her, I think. If she were to leave, he could heal somewhat, for not having so thoroughly misjudged her character.

Am I enough for you? Was I ever enough? is the unspoken question here when he asks if she will remain with him.

And in return, he gets back even more patronising bullshit and hubris. "Be at peace, love. I will stop them."

(Can you tell Mythal pisses me off?)

She calls him love. What an unbearable insult after everything, to go on telling him she cares for him whilst ignoring his wisdom--the very wisdom she coerced him into leaving the Fade so she would have by her side--and consolidating her own power at the expense of his people.

"As you must," he says. "The Blight is our mistake."

Might be unpopular, but I do not think Solas bears a split fifty-fifty custody for whose fault the Blight is. Could he have said no about the dagger? Could he have pushed then? Maybe. But by this point, he'd already had probable millennia of complex trauma and a deeply abusive codependent relationship, probably also a level of magical bond. Like, sorry, Trick and BioWare, if you want to retcon everything you shared with us in Inquisition about being in service to the Evanuris ("You have given yourself into the service of an ancient elven god! You are Mythal's creature now. Everything you do, whether you know it or not, will be for her.") AND Mythal casually overriding her servants' will and Solas burning her vallaslin off his face and leaving a scar and devoting himself to freeing the elven people from the Evanuris's domination, fine, but I don't buy it. Even if there was no magical compulsion on him all this time, that is immaterial.

Complex trauma literally rewires the brain to survive. She spent lifetimes programming him, isolating him, stripping from him every bit of agency he had. This man did not have the capacity to say no.

When our no is trampled even for a few months or years, we stop trying to use it. We comply. We, as mortal humans, cannot begin to comprehend the compounded trauma of millennia of this happening with the stakes of worlds in the balance. Solas, quite simply, has lost the entire ability to consent. No one of us can even imagine.

Yet he managed to walk away from her somehow, when she chose Elgar'nan. This man is stronger than anyone gives him credit for.

The dagger was clearly Mythal's idea. The plan to sever the Titans from their dreams, clearly her idea. To end the war. For there to be "peace". For there to be "freedom". Except that never came.

His loyalty was to her and to their people; hers was only ever to herself.

And again, she walks away and lets Solas suffer.

What a good friend.

[screaming from the general direction of Scotland]

She put her trust in monsters instead of her oldest friend, and the monsters ate her face.

Anyone surprised? I'm surprised. (I'm not surprised.)

And on top of this, Mythal finally, finally giving Solas one tiny breadcrumb that she had any principles remaining? I think that cemented his bindings to her forever. Not just that the Evanuris killed her, but why they killed her: because after millennia, she listened to him.

For someone that deep into trauma and abuse? Well. We know what happened.

It cannot be overstated that with his imprisonment of the Evanuris and the Blight, Solas saved the entire world. The entire world. Every living being in Thedas had a chance at life because of him. Only because of him.

Morrigan says it early on in the game, that for all the consequences of the veil (which, it also must be said, was not supposed to be global!), "his imprisonment of the Evanuris was just. Had he not done so, all of Thedas would have fallen to the Blight."

And the world has hated him for it.

He woke after sleeping for millennia, exhausted by this immense act of magic, to discover that not only had it gone horribly wrong, but that it had cost his people everything. That Tevinter had come in and enslaved them, released a trickle of the Blight after breaking into the Black City, used so much blood magic that the veil itself all over Thedas has been in tatters--not least because in releasing the Blight, the survivors had had to face down and kill the dragon thralls (archdemons) of the Evanuris, rendering five out of seven of them mortal, and with their deaths over the intervening centuries, the veil had grown threadbare with only two Evanuris sustaining it.

The risks were catastrophic, the price unbearable.

Everything he'd ever done to protect the world could still come crashing down...and in a sick twist of fate, he would be alive to see it.

And, shockingly, so would Mythal.

Mythal, whose fragment has just been chilling in a swamp for centuries in human form. Mythal, whose abuse of him lasted through the entirety of the world's history. Mythal, who, due to the Evanuris's betrayal and her abusee's abandonment, has become little more than retribution.

Mythal, who could have set him free at any point in all this time and didn't, because he was hers.

Mythal, who is the only remaining person with the power to do what he feels must be done.

I find it interesting that they chose not to use the post-Inquisition dialogue at all. Interesting also that they used Mythal's voice actor and not Flemeth's. This feels like a retcon, but we'll go with it. Whatevs.

"I knew that you would find me soon enough. You need the power of a god, the strength that I alone still carry."

She's still asserting her own godhood.

He's not having it. "The blighted Evanuris will soon break free from their prison. I must make a stronger one that can contain them."

He's not wrong. Not even a little bit wrong. And he's also right that she won't help him. Why would she? She never has.

"While the prison is important, it is not the only goal you seek."

"Why should I not tear down the veil? And bring back immortality to all the elven people? They deserve it."

And this is where I get even more raging, because Mythal's answer is this: "The elven people of today do not deserve to see the world they love torn apart to salve your conscience."

I'm sorry, what?

The world they love? The world that has offered them nowt but literal genocide for thousands of years? The world where in Tevinter, they're chattel slaves and worse, fuel for blood magic without a thought? The world where in the "civilised", slaveless nations to the south, they're either confined to alienages and subjected to repeated genocide (that's what a "purge" is, if anyone isn't clear on that) or the remnants of the Dales, who are the descendents of another enormous genocide? The world where elven magic has been pillaged but elven mages in human settlements are confined to Circles and abused or made tranquil or also genocided by Templars invoking the Rite of Annulment? The world where they're called "elf savage" and "rabbit" and "knife ear" and cannot participate in Thedosian religious life because the Chantry erases every instance of elves from even the Chant of Light? The world where it took the Inquisitor installing a perpetrator of genocide on the Orlesian throne (both Celene AND Gaspard fit this bill) and either having Celene reconcile with Briala (Briala and Celene's relationship could be a whole other post. Boak.) and blackmailing them to give a single elf lands and a title? That world????

What the fuck, Mythal, die faster.

I got real mad there for a second. I'm fine. I'm fine!

Solas, once more, simply says, "I must fix what I have broken. I am sorry."

More than she deserves, frankly. Man's a mess, but at least he tries. She's been chilling in a swamp and pulling puppet strings for ages and abusing her kids. Nudging history like it's some sort of hobby, because it has always just been pieces on a board to her. They have never been people in her eyes like they are in his.

"As am I, old friend."

Aye, get tae fuck. Friends don't treat friends the way you treated Solas. The closest thing to an apology Solas will ever get from her is that she pretty much just lies down and dies when he comes to kill her. And she still won't set him free before he does. Has to continue to twist her own knife.

This scene has me riled.

And this takes us back to the beginning of this post.

To her essence showing up to release him from her service.

In what is, to me, the least accountable, bare minimum non-apology (she never actually says she's sorry) I've had the displeasure to witness in a videogame, with Solas literally cowering before her and offering her a knife to kill him with since this is the first time he's seen her actual, non-Flemythal face since she died.

This was never a friendship of equals. Ever.

She got one thing right. She did break him. But she knew it all this time, and she never took a single step to put it right until pushed. Her corner of the Crossroads, which he built for her in the desperate hope that she would show a glimmer of the friend he believed she was, notably has a pair of wolf statues. Both beheaded.

She's spent all this time punishing him further.

He never went to visit her? I wouldn't either. I could not blame him.

This has gone to an angry place. So let's conclude with what is, I think, the entire point.

Grace.

"I lied. I betrayed you."

"I forgive you."

Has anyone--anyone--in all his long life, ever said those words to him?

I'll say that again: has anyone--ANYONE--in all his millennia of existence, EVER said those words to him?

I forgive you.

Mythal certainly didn't.

The world certainly didn't.

He has shouldered all the blame of an entire pantheon, a war that broke the world, a blight, everything, always, and while people have come alongside him to help him, I am not sure anyone (certainly not anyone he cares about) has given him the grace of forgiveness.

The beauty of this final scene for me wasn't just Ilaana, wasn't just Ilaana reuniting with the man she has loved for a decade who has spent all that time pushing her away so he couldn't--in his mind--inevitably poison the love of the only person who has seen his spirit and cherished it without twisting him.

It was the slow realisation that Rook trusted his love enough to try.

It was Morrigan, who carries all Mythal's memories and her own of Flemythal's abuse and machinations, who responds to Rook's question about her views of Solas with: "Or do you mean to discover if I would stand directly against the Dread Wolf, were there a need? I shall aid you in any way but that. What has passed between Solas and Mythal...I beg you: do not ask this of me again."

Morrigan knows. She will not raise a hand against him. She will not try to stop him. She will let the veil fall. She will not fight with Rook. Because she knows this being whose memories she holds has harmed him enough.

Solas, in these final moments, even before Mythal shows up to gut punch him, realises all these people have somehow, somehow, banded together to help him.

Not work for him.

Not be his agents.

Not worship him.

Not follow him blindly.

To help him. To help Solas. To help him, after all this time, take the first steps towards himself. Towards his own essence, so long twisted into something he never sought or wanted.

The Inquisitor and Morrigan certainly understand what it's like to be seen only as the symbol others raise in your image. Rook will learn that someday, but is still naive.

But even with that naivete, willing. Present. Able to put aside being a chess piece on his board. Able to see that they would never have succeeded without his help. Able to trust two people who know him better than they ever will.

Able to offer him grace.

And when they produce Mythal's essence, how that must brutalise him; to think that perhaps all this has been to let his abuser kill him back. He clearly thinks that's what's happening. He breaks. He fawns. He offers her the blade that has caused so much pain.

Her release of him is the bare minimum she owes him. I've already railed about that.

What is transcendent here, transformative--it is the mortals.

The mortals offering grace to a god who never wanted to be a god.

It's them together showing him a way out of an endless cycle of trauma and abuse. No one of them alone is enough. Without Rook, they wouldn't have Mythal's essence; Morrigan can't go get it, and she can't do what is needed because she's not actually Mythal, only has her memories. Without Morrigan, who can stand there with those memories but from the compassionate perspective of someone who has watched them in horror from the outside. She's far from objective, but she can do this one thing to help.

Without the Inquisitor (romanced or not, still someone he let know him as he most desperately wanted to be known--the Fade-walker, the Dreamer, the humble mage who desperately needed a friend). The Inquisitor, who kneels before him to comfort him. Who sees his hurt and responds.

If romanced, without Lavellan, who kneels to repeat back words he once shouted at the Nightmare in the Fade after Adamant.

"Dirth ma, harellan. Ma banal enasalin. Mar solas ema mar din." (Speak, traitor. Your victory was fruitless. Your pride gives way only to your death.)

To which Solas replied, "Banal nadas."

On the surface, nothing is inevitable, but can also be taken to mean that nothingness is inevitable, entropy, the final void. (Thanks to Dumped, Drunk, and Dalish for this excellent long post on this scene.)

And here is Lavellan, kneeling beside him with those words. "Banal nadas ar lath, ma vhenan."

Nothing is inevitable but the love we share, my heart.

I see everything you are, all you have done, and I love you. I forgive you for the pain you have caused me. I understand, see, and forgive.

No one has ever shown him grace like this.

Ever.

And Solas, this shattered man, sobs.

He sobs.

Someone has taken the trouble to isolate his voice in the video. This man has nothing left. And, after millennia of this trauma cycle repeating over and over, he is finally free to make the choice he wants to make. It's not the outcome he wants; that has to be said. He doesn't want to leave the veil up. He doesn't want to be bound into prison forever with no hope of seeing the world he fought for ever return.

But he is done.

In the Fade after Adamant, there is a cemetery with the worst fears of every companion scriven on shrines and stones. Solas's is dying alone.

After all of this, he is willing to face just that--and would, if not for her.

She knows his deepest fears. She has faced the demon Mythal made of the man she loves. She has given unwitting comfort to the spirit of Wisdom still within. She has seen his sweetest self. Nurtured him, cherished him, and has been nurtured and cherished in return.

Does she want to leave the world behind and spend eternity in a Fade prison? Probably not her first choice. It's not my Ilaana's; she has been on his side all this time, dreaming of a world where the spirits she loves can be reunited with the world in peace and ready to make that happen.

But it was not supposed to happen this way. It did happen this way anyway.

He has sacrificed everything--everything--including his own spirit self, his soul, his life. How could she not offer him what no one ever has? A friend forever, a lover willing to walk the din'an shiral by his side, a companion to ward off the forever alone.

Together, the two of them can begin to heal, with their counterpart who has always seen through the burdens of the world to the soul within.

This is the only thing I've ever had any faith in. Grace I know you carry us Grace And it was such a mess Grace I don't say it enough Grace You are so loved

[domjaehyun]

i ❤️ hot nerds (l.dh, n.jm) — preview

PAIRING. pervert!nerd!haechan, pervert!nerd!jaemin x popular!fem!reader  GENRE. smut, slight fluff CONTENTS. explicit smut (kissing, fingering, oral (receiving), titfucking, breast play, lots of drool and spit, overstimulation, snowballing, dirty talk, rimming, anal play, missionary, riding, mating press, breeding/creampies) WORD COUNT. 8.7k; teaser wc: 525 words SUMMARY. when your professor pairs you with the two smartest students in your class for a group project, you find yourself making an interesting deal with them. or, alternatively: the one where you have to help two nerds learn to get girls so you can pass your class. PLAYLIST. n/a NOTES. remember when i said i was up to something with these two? this is it! the full fic is already posted on my patreon here, and i’ll be posting it in full to tumblr on september 30th!

“You don’t get it—we need to be fuckable!” Haechan stresses, and you roll your eyes in exasperation.

“Haechan, you’re already fuckable.” you explain calmly, and he opens his mouth in preparation for some witty remark, but after processing your words, his eyes widen and his mouth hangs open uselessly, his accusingly pointed finger now pointing meekly at the floor at an angle. 

“I—So—so you would fuck us?” he stammers, and you nod slowly, looking from him to Jaemin.

“Why do you think I let you get away with your numerous dorm violations?” you snort in amusement, and he blinks hard.

“I thought you just took pity on us, y’know? Like you had a soft spot for nerds or something.”

“I don’t have a soft spot for nerds.” you answer. “I have a soft spot for hot nerds, though.”

His mouth opens and closes pathetically as his normally quick-witted brain scrambles to process the information you’ve just presented to him. Jaemin is quicker to act, sitting forward so suddenly the move could be considered as predatory, and you’re not sure if it’s the lighting reflecting off of his glasses or what, but there is most definitely a glint in his eye as he regards you, his lips gradually stretching into a toothy grin.

“So you let us get away with stuff? Because you like us? Like what?” he questions, and you tilt your head to the side as you think. 

“Your candles, for starters. Haechan’s tapestry, your many many noise complaints from your neighbors when you two get too heated as you’re gaming,” you start to list off on your fingers, and you cross one leg over the other, not missing the way both of their eyes shift to your newly exposed skin and how… hungry they look. “The way you—” you point at Haechan, “always try to get away with looking up my skirt.”

Haechan’s face flushes a pretty shade of red, and you smile, amused, as he scrambles to defend himself. Before he can, you hold up a hand to silence him. 

“Haechan?”

“Yes?” he replies meekly.

“If I minded, I would have said something by now. I certainly wouldn’t have kept wearing skirts and accidentally flashing you.” 

His eyes roll back into his head with a whimper and he nods in understanding. 

“And you—” you round on Jaemin, who’s still perched like a lion about to pounce, and the male just smiles wider, tilting his head to the side curiously.

“What about me?”

“You probably think you’re slick with the little lingering touches on my back and waist when you’re ‘trying to get by,’ but I only let you do that because I like it.”

His grin widens more than you even thought possible, the glint in his eye now unmistakable. “Oh, yeah? Where else do you like being touched?”

“I mean,” you hum, uncrossing your thighs and smiling as both of their gazes hone in on the space between your legs, “I could tell you, but I think you’d rather have me show you.”

“I have a better idea,” Jaemin murmurs, moving towards you slowly. “How about you let us find out?”

reminder that the full fic is already posted on my patreon if you don't want to wait!

[cynarisgayass]

𓍊𓋼~Day 2: Size kink~𓋼𓍊

Type: Multi headcannons

Description: So this has multiple versions, where the reader is larger or much smaller then their partner. This is a fave of what I've written so far ngl and the dommy mommies in my mind, are using a strap filled with the like cum looking lube. Just to make that clear

Rating: Very explicit

Warnings: Stretching to fit, rough sex and many others...read at your own risk.

Includes: Lyney, Diluc, Arlecchino, Gorou, Itto, Zhongli, Albedo, Aether, Alhaitham, Kinich, Tighnari, Tartaglia, Neuvillette, Xiao, Venti, Kazuha, Heizou, Eula, Capitano, Dottore, Pantalone, Lycaon, Wriothesley, Raiden, Yae Miko, Scaramouche

Making it fit, bottom reader:

You can take it, they know you can. They know their large hands on your hips can force you down and you won't stop them, even as a pained yelp escapes your lips and tears well up in your eyes. You'll feel like your being ripped apart, your small figure shaking as your pulled onto their large cock, your walls stretching so slowly to take it all.

They are already so deep, so far inside of you that there's a bulge in your stomach, yet there's still more. Your brain fogs over and your lost for thoughts as you take in the last inch, so full you could explode.

"I knew you could fit it baby~"

- Lycaon, Wriothesley, Neuvillette, Itto, Zhongli, Tartaglia, Capitano, Dottore, Pantalone, Diluc, Alhaitham, Arlecchino, Eula

Cumming deep inside, bottom reader:

You'll scream at the top of your lungs as your roughly pulled down onto their massive member, stars spinning in front of your eyes while they fill you with more cum then you could have possibly imagined. Your tiny body would shake as they held you in place, fucking their seed into you with all they had left and enjoying beyond belief how destroyed you are because of them. You'd need alot of aftercare, but it's so worth it.

- Diluc, Pantalone, Dottore, Alhaitham, Tartaglia, Arlecchino, Raiden, Yae Miko

Hair pulling with the twinks, top reader:

He'd make such a slutty noise as you bit down on his shoulder, his small body quivering under yours while you sunk further inside of him. His hair would be wrapped around your fingers, your harsh tugs on it sending shivers down his spine as he begged you to go faster. He'd try to hide just how much he was enjoying you stretching him out, but it's just too fucking good, he can't.

- Venti, Scaramouche, Albedo, Xiao, Heizou, Aether, Kazuha, Kinich, Tighnari, Lyney, Gorou

Full kinktober list: here

[laligraves]

chp.2 - poolside

morning run series

joel miller x fem!reader

[18+] | wc: ~2.7k summary: Your nap is interrupted by Joel. masterlist | AO3

warnings: HBO Joel, TLOU AU, dubious consent (i'm so serious, don't read if it makes you uncomfortable), NSFW, pre/no outbreak, some proofreading (not enough so sorry for mistakes), Joel is a tall and very strong man, older man/college-aged reader, no use of y/n or too many details on reader's appearance, alcohol consumption, pet names, some degradation, breeding kink (yeah), fingering, squirting, unprotected sex, creampie

a/n: i'm still here <3! just busy with real life :( i don't have a huge plan for this series except to make little one shots here and there since i have a lot of fun with these two characters lol. other stuff on the way i promise <3

You left two days after that encounter with Joel Miller. Your head was still spinning and your pussy still sore, but the semester started and you needed to be back on campus. 

The first night back in your dorm, you debated throwing out the roses that now sat on your desk. You lasted 10 minutes just looking at them before you were touching yourself to the memory of him. You could still feel the scratch of his beard on your neck and remember the smell of his cologne. 

He’d put his phone number in your contact list and you debated calling him. But what would you even say? 

You should be mad at Joel for what he did. Yet somehow, he managed to reach into the deepest corners of your mind and fulfill one of your darkest fantasies. 

Now, back in town, you can’t help but feel a little excited to see him again. Even if the more sane part of your brain is trying to convince you to slap him across the face if he comes near.  

“Hey, lazy girl,” your sister calls out. 

“Hey,” you respond softly, not moving from your spot on the lounge chair. 

“I’m leaving. Are you sure you’ll be okay?” 

“Yeah,” you reply, knowing you’ll probably spend the entire week swimming and sunbathing by the pool. 

“I left money on the counter and the keys to my car in case you need it.” 

“Okay, mom,” you say sarcastically. 

She throws a pool noodle at you and leaves with her friend after that, promising to text you when she reaches her destination. Any other time you’d be disappointed that your sister was leaving for a full week just as you arrived for summer vacation, but she’s been working so much that she deserves a trip. 

The stress from the semester leaves your body with each lap around the crisp pool and the warm sun. You go back into the house to make yourself a tequila soda and make your way back out to the chairs underneath the canopy. 

A sudden thought pops into your head as you look around the empty backyard. The fences are tall enough and the gate leading to the backyard is locked. Your sister doesn’t have cameras that face this side of the house yet, so there’s really no reason for you to be so nervous. 

You’ve never sunbathed in the nude, there’s just never been an opportunity for it. But now, with the house empty and the tequila coursing through your veins, it would be the perfect time to do so. 

Before the courage leaves you, you slip off the strings of the bikini and spread out on the lounge chair.

“Absolutely nothing to worry about,” you whisper. 

You eventually doze off, moving around until you’re once again face down. A text message from your sister lights up your screen, but at this point you’ve fallen asleep and don’t pay any mind to it. 

I forgot to tell you that Joel Miller from down the block is stopping by. He’s going to plant the roses Susan wants, but needs to take a look first. Help him with whatever he needs. Tell him thank you! 

You start to dream of Joel massaging sunscreen on your back, trailing his hands over your sides until they land on the soft, plump flesh of your ass. 

His hands massage and spread your cheeks open, presenting your asshole and pussy for his eyes. Joel lands a glob of spit right on your little winking star and you flinch slightly. 

“It’s okay, babydoll,” he coos. 

The tip of his finger circles your asshole just a bit, enough for you to shiver from the sensation. 

His fingers trail down to your pussy where he slowly teases a finger up and down your slit, gathering the wetness. 

“Joel,” you whimper. 

You push back on his hand, overcome with need.

Joel laughs at your desperate attempts to fuck yourself on his hand and moves your thigh to the side, giving him the perfect view of your cunt. 

Before you have a chance to complain, he spreads you open and runs his tongue through your folds. Your hands grip the towel and you almost scream in surprise. 

At the scrape of his teeth on your inner thigh and the scratch of his beard on your skin, you begin to wake. This isn’t a dream.  

“What–” 

“‘bout time you woke up,” Joel growls. “Dreamin’ about me, babydoll?” 

You lift your head, slightly delirious, still grinding back on his face. 

“Joel, whatthefuck–” you whisper, words slurred from sleep. 

He tongues your entrance and swipes a finger over your clit, a movement that has you almost seeing stars. Joel ignores your pleas for him to wait, choosing instead to push two large fingers into your pussy. You choke down on your words at the stretch, still confused. 

“Can barely fit my fingers in this sweet cunt,” Joel says.  

“Wait–” you whimper, “fuck, wait.” 

With his fingers still in your pussy, he moves up to lie partially on top of you. He bites your shoulder, neck, runs the tip of his tongue over the shell of your ear. 

“No waiting, babydoll. Gotta stretch this tiny hole,”  

Vulgar. He’s so nasty with his words, still, your pussy beats with its own heartbeat. 

“Joel–” 

“All this time waitin’ for you to call me,” Joel hums into your ear, “just used me for my cock, didn’t you? Little slut.” 

“No, I didn’t. I–” 

“I knock you up?” 

You give a tiny, jerky shake of your head, no, unable to form words. 

“Guess we’ll have to try again, yeah?” he murmurs in your ear. “Gonna’ fill up this pussy.”

“No—“

You mean to say it with conviction. But your voice wavers, and you cum right into the palm of his hand, soaking him.

You grind down on his hand and bite into the towel to muffle your screams. 

“Good girl,” Joel groans, “just love makin’ a mess, don’t cha’?”   

Your hands slowly let go of the towel and your body becomes limp. Joel stands from the chair and you hear the clatter of his belt and the soft rustle of his clothes landing on the ground. 

Your nap being interrupted by Joel is not something you were expecting. In fact, what is he doing here?

“Joel, what are you–” 

His hands reach for your hips and he’s flipping you over on your back, making room for himself between your thighs.

“Needa look at your pretty face and pretty tits while I fuck ‘ya.” 

“We can’t–” 

Joel’s calloused fingers pinch your hard-tipped nipples and as if your body is already conditioned for him, you push up right into his hands.

“Fuckin’ gorgeous,” Joel groans. 

Before you know what’s happening, Joel leans down to drag his tongue over each peak. He bites, leaving only a hint of pain and shushing your needy whines. 

He grinds down between your open thighs, covering his cock in your slick. You moan and writhe on the lounge chair, twisting your hips with each bump of his mushroom head right on your swollen button. 

 “Joel, please,” you beg. 

But you’re not quite sure what you’re begging for. The sane part of your brain tells you to put an end to this, to send Joel far away from you. But then he sucks your nipple into his mouth and your mind goes blank.

Joel keeps biting, sucking, lapping at your tits until you feel the familiar sensation in your lower belly. As if sensing another orgasm, either from your moans or the way you're grinding up on his cock, Joel stops, placing a soft kiss on each nipple before leaning back. 

“I needed to taste those tits before I fuck ya’,” Joel rasps. 

You tremble beneath him, laying there in a sweaty heap. Joel’s face is slightly flushed and his chest rises with each ragged breath he takes. 

Fuck, he’s handsome. Salt and pepper hair, creases around his eyes, a hooked nose and a huge cock make him the most attractive man you’ve ever seen. 

The second he releases your hands, you drag your fingers down his hairy chest and over his soft belly. He’s hard and soft, muscular from working outside but with a belly that you want to lay your head on. 

He moves your hand away, linking his fingers through one of yours and uses his other hand to bump the tip of his length at your entrance. You try, in a small voice that’s just about surrendered to the lust swirling in your head, to stop Joel, suddenly remembering that this is not your house, but your sister’s. 

“Joel, my sister is inside–” 

He tsks in disappointment. “She’s gone for the week,” he interrupts, swirling the tip of his cock on your clit, “don’t lie to me, babydoll.”

Your mouth opens to ask how exactly he knows that, but Joel takes that moment to slide right in. A high-pitched squeal claws its way out of your mouth at the stretch of his cock. 

Joel groans, sounding almost pained. His eyes shut and his mouth drops open while you fight to push him off of you. You forgot just how large he was, and even if your cunt is slick and this isn’t the first time, it’s still a little painful. 

Joel places your hand above your head, still keeping his fingers linked, and uses his other hand to push up your thigh. His nose brushes yours and he gives you a soft kiss.  

He rocks his hips slowly, pushing his tongue into your mouth and matching the pace. You don’t kiss him back, too preoccupied with the cock spearing inside of you and the loss of air in your lungs. 

“Too much–”, you mumble, “too much!” 

Joel moves his lips down your chin, the tip of his tongue dragging a hot path down your neck. Goosebumps erupt on your skin as you try to catch your breath. Each thrust of his hips make you lightheaded. 

“No,” Joel murmurs into your neck, “you can take it, babydoll. Take it like a good girl.”  

With your free hand you try to push at his hips, for him to just give you a moment to breathe. Joel quickly takes your other hand and places it above your head, locking both of your wrists in his grasp. 

Your tits are in Joel’s face, pushed up by the arch of your back. Joel takes full advantage and runs his tongue over your swollen nipples. 

You’re not speaking coherently anymore. Between your pleas for him to slow down, please you whine with each hard thrust into your pussy. 

“Fuckin’ greedy,” Joel groans, “pussy keeps suckin’ me right back in.” 

“You’re so fucking nasty,” you mumble in half-hearted anger. 

But he’s right. Your pussy flutters with each slide of his cock and your thighs bracket his hips, keeping him as close as possible.

The thick head of his cock bumps your womb and you’re almost certain he’s growing bigger inside of you. You can smell him, his cologne and sweat, the scent of a man who spends his time working outside with his hands. 

If Joel were any other man, you’d hate the smell. But with him, it’s intoxicating. 

The first time together was quick, in his front yard where you were forced to stay quiet and take whatever he gave you. Now, your whimpers are loud and he’s in no rush to finish quickly. 

“Gonna breed this little cunt,” Joel slurs, “gonna make you a mommy.”

His hips move faster and tears begin to fall from the corner of your eyes. Joel invades your space and kisses every inch of skin he can reach. Imprints of his teeth and his saliva are left on your neck, tits, and mouth. 

“You want that babydoll? Wanna make me a daddy?” 

Any other man, especially one who is practically a stranger would make you cringe. But Joel’s breeding kink doesn’t phase you. You fall into the fantasy of him cumming inside of you and giving you a baby. 

He pushes his tongue almost down your throat while he fucks you. You kiss him back and suck his tongue on instinct. He whimpers, a sound that makes your pussy tighten in response.  

“Jesus–,” Joel groans. 

“Joel, please,” you whimper, “m–more, please!” 

The chair shakes with each of his thrusts, just about able to hold your combined weight. Joel lets go of your hands and leans back to watch his cock slide into you, seemingly mesmerized at the sight. 

Your hands reach for his sweaty chest, arms, caressing his heated skin. Joel pushes your thighs open and you hear every sticky, wet slide of his cock.

He’s suddenly sliding a hand underneath your neck. 

“Look, babydoll,” Joel gasps. 

You don’t pay him much attention, your eyes barely able to focus on his face.   

“C’mon–fuck.” 

You lean up on your elbows with the little energy you have left and watch his length, veiny and large, covered in your slick, piston in and out of you. 

If it didn’t feel so good, it would be almost scary to look at. Joel, so much larger and stronger than you, somehow able to fit so perfectly inside of you. 

You fall back on the lounge chair and Joel places your ankle on his shoulder. He turns his head to nip your soft skin, leaving another imprint of his teeth on your body. 

He pushes his thumb inside of your mouth and doesn’t even flinch as you bite down. 

“I almost drove down to that college of yours,” he moans, “wanted to drag you outta the dorm and fuck you in the hallway.” 

You moan around his thumb, lost in the fantasy of big, broad Joel dragging you by the hair and fucking you out in the open, in front of everyone to see. 

His words are slurred at this point. But he's so drunk on pure lust that he can’t help himself but keep talking. 

“Wanted to show everyone who owns this slut pussy.”  

The way he speaks to you should make you angry, but you pussy only flutters and squeezes as he calls you his little slut.

He removes his thumb from your mouth and gently slaps your cheek before swiping his spit-covered thumb over your clit. 

He swipes over your swollen bud, once, twice, using your spit and slick that now covers both of your lower bodies.

Your orgasm tears through you, washing over you in warm waves of bliss. 

Joel keeps fucking you, moving faster until his hips piston and you're being used as a toy while your orgasm courses through your body. 

He lays on top of you, keeping your thrashing and whimpering body bracketed onto the chair. Joel’s moans grow loud in your ear and you know he’s close. 

“Not inside–” you whimper, “don’t cum–” your words not having any real meaning behind them except to add to your fantasy. 

“Fuckin’ mine, my little cunt,” Joel snaps, “gonna cum in my babydoll–” 

He swells impossibly larger inside of you and then you feel it, the hot splash of cum. Ropes and ropes fill your cunt and he grinds his cock into you, buries his head in your neck and groans your name over and over again. 

Your body, still recovering from your orgasm from only a few moments ago, trembles once more. The warmth of his cum painting your womb shakes another one out of you. 

You’re not sure how long it lasts. Joel continues to whisper in your ear about how fuckin’ sweet you are and how you have the tiniest cunt ever, babydoll while his cock fills you with cum. 

Joel continues to lay on top of you and while he’s larger in every sense of the way, his weight is comforting. The setting sun is blocked by the canopy which you're grateful for because you don’t want him to move. 

“How are ya’ feeling?” Joel asks. 

You’ve almost fallen asleep at this point. 

“Full… and sore,” you whisper. 

“Maybe this time I’ll actually knock you up,” Joel whispers, placing a kiss on your forehead. 

You roll your eyes and push him off of you. 

“Not going to happen, old man. I’m on birth control. And we just met!"

“Shame,” he sighs dramatically. “How about I grill us some steaks?”