#do you have any ideas girlie?

[musubiki]

danmarch 🐉💎

[angels444yuri]

hiii thank you for the tag danny @cursemyexistences ♡

my 5 fav songs right now

cheri cheri lady by modern talking

smooth operator by sade

gekka na yasoukyoku by malice mizer

baroque by malice mizer

just the two of us by bill withers

tagging; @hhymns @bithehand @interstellarisse @sprinedankle @anita-vainilla-blog @sixthlisbonsisterx @feski @anita-vainilla-blog @julia-bonkers @izzy444angel @ivoryteacups @f3mcelbambi @i-know-you-wanna-kiss-me @gothstage @astraeasparrow @carm3n-carm3n @daughterofcainnnn & anyone who's interested 🫶🏼

[juney-blues]

june egbert is proof that half of you people can't even comprehend the idea of a pre-transition trans woman.

[magicrainbowkitties]

Some of y'all never learned the difference between queerbaiting and queercoding and it really fuckin shows. And even more than that some of y'all will sit there and call something queerbait just because they don't kisskiss.

Characters should not and do not have to actually kiss and/or fuck nasty on screen for a queer and/or romantic reading of their relationship to be valid. Not the least of which reason is that not every relationship such as that involves kissing or sex, but more importantly:

Relationships are more than that. You know this. I know this. We wouldn't be shipping people otherwise, or be so invested in the relationships between these characters we love.

Why is a movie where the characters of the same gender love and care deeply for each other and complete each other's worlds, and yet never kiss or fuck, bait, while the one where the characters are underdeveloped and have no real reason to be together or even like each other than because the plot says so but they kiss and fuck like rabbits NOT bait?

Queerness deserves nuance, it deserves different shit, it deserves messy and toxic shit, it deserves to be scrutinized and analyzed, rather than simply consumed and sanitized.

Would the former film have a kiss/sex scene if the world it existed in didn't force it to be a product in a violently heteronormative society? More than likely. But we can't say for sure.

Queer media has survived since forever thanks to queercoding, which was used to let representation of queerness and queer culture exist AT ALL under homophobic corporations. Queer PEOPLE have survived their actively hostile homes and communities thanks to codes and signals that identified each other and where was and wasn't safe.

That legacy won't go away, even as we gain more acceptance in society. Even if the day comes in my lifetime where queer people all over the world are free to live out our lives in peace and comfort without our very lives and bodies being targets for violence and repression, that tradition STILL wouldn't go away. Because it's INTERESTING and FUN and DYNAMIC and GOOD CHARACTER WRITING.

Not every deeply loving and caring relationship is romantic, just as not every buddy-buddy relationship is platonic. There's so much grey area, so much to look through, to analyze with different lenses, to understand about how we conceptualize relationships.

Queerbaiting is NOT just a stand-in for queercoding you didn't like. And it's not bait just because they didn't kiss or get together or fuck. Queerbait is when something is MARKETED to queer people, but doesn't actually have any queer rep in it at all.

Does that mean some queerbait is queercoding in and of itself? Yes. But not all.

But when it's characters building a deep abiding love for each other over the course of the story, one that changes them and how they see the world, regardless of the fact they don't actually kiss or fuck or say "you are now my partner/spouse..." I'm sorry, that's not bait. That's a love story. And regardless of what kind of love it is, platonic, romantic, sexual, eldritch, whathaveyou, that's what queer stories ARE.

Especially when the characters in question are literally canonically queer, but their relationship isn't made EXPLICITLY romantic. Like guys. Really?

Please read anything at all about the history of queerness in your medium of choice before you start shouting "queerbait" at things that are literally made to be complicated.

[moregraceful]

my hot take as a person with an english degree and a library degree is that some of the dorkiest fiction and poetry ever committed to paper in the english language came out of the iowa writer's workshop so it is at best goofy and at worst completely futile to argue that your average amazon unlimited writer is having a more deleterious effect on literacy and literature.

[dear-ao3]

Saph, just to check and make sure I do not know you IRL, please tell me you don't live in Louisiana, as I know someone who lived in New Jersey and now lives here.

not only do i not live in louisiana i have also never been there

[ineffable-romantics]

Who I'd Be

[Part 1/6]

Once upon a time, after a long night of rich, dark wine and untouched cupperties, the angel Muriel asks Mr. Crowley what he thinks he might have liked to be, if he weren't a demon. And no, dear readers, the answer is neither angel nor aardvark.

Inspired by the song Who I'd Be

(P.S. Special thanks to @gleafer and @anotherwellkeptsecret for giving me some much-needed advice on how to upload these as high quality as possible. I'm working with crayons and Microsoft Word though, so I fear it may be a lost cause lol)

[vanquishedmelon]

I'm really out here developing a full backstory for the Warren line from the time they claimed the manor for good to the time of Penny's birth...... as if I would ever fully flesh out and write it..... like I've got all these ideas and I just want to ramble on about them but WHY when in a week's time I'll move onto something else and forget about this

[teakoodrawz]

if you dont mind with hc asks. What are your voice hcs with scc? I'd like to know your takes in them

[Mic test mic test!!! Full script undercut!!! ]

[ ❤️ || Sweet -> Revtrosity - you already knew how it sounded if you ever watched this video on youtube and heard his voice acting of sweet cap'n cakes. i tried to find any specific artists with song associations that fits their tone but so far i didn't got it right so i think from revtrosity seemed sm better and fitting bcuz he voice acted them really good imo. With Sweet sounding deep and their voice being raspy (and also quite robotic buzz sound with all the editing) was the perfect voice for them (he's the best ut/dr voice actor with hilarious humors screaming over his mic he was once my fav) ]

[ 💙 || Cap'n -> Lin-Manuel Miranda - oh boi let me tell you about this one..i LOVE associating Cap'n with lin-manuel ESPECIALLY from the netflix animated movie Vivo because those two characters reminded me alot of each other and because this talented kinkajou, Vivo was...a coward. but also passionate and funny (a bit more..exaggerated). Also did his very best to do the right thing for his friend because its the last thing he could do for him. really reminded me alot of cap'n with his bandmates so I BEG of you to try listening to some lin-Manuel songs especially the Hamilton. and imagine it'scap'en I luv it sm or else I'd drag your noodle legs into my hole-- /j/j]

[ 💚 || Cakes (k_k) -> Revtrosity- his voice acting of k_k did fit really well too so I'd choosed this one bcuz I dont know where to actually find the best voice tone for k_k (I also almost associated Cakes with Tanjiro Kamado for many reasons) also I do have an alternative voice hc from the song Role-playing Game by SoraMafuUraSaka with the member named MafuMafu almost sounded like k_k to me if you listen to their song parts. ]

[navree]

if taylor swift is ever discovered to have cheated on a partner it will be the funniest day ever to be on the internet

[shopcat]

do u have an opinion on stoncy. im asking bc it seems like lots of people are into them but then hate jancy/stancy at the same time and i just dont understand that logic nor do i understand the stoncy appeal whatsover and would love to know your take lol

EEEEK first of all Love giving my opinion on everything and anything thank you for asking honestly i can't believe anyone wants my take i'm insane i love you. and i've noticed this too!!!! i find it pretty interesting that people do tend to be anti stancy/jancy but pro stoncy but honestly if i had 0 stakes in it i wouldn't mind it either tbh but i have ALL the stakes (phd in steve harrington minoring in nancy wheeler). i think stoncy like fundamentally has a logical next step kind of basis of trying to heal the "love triangle" rifts by bridging the gaps instead so to speak and on the surface and if i'm unbiased i suppose it would make sense? like if the tension between steve and nancy was jonathan then jonathan becoming their shared boyfriend would theoretically eliminate the problem.

BUT that is me being objective and i think at this stage in the game or whatever the line has shifted becaaauuse -> i BELIEVE stoncy was the first/oldest popular ship among the older teens (because they were victim to popping into existence in 2016 AKA the height of Every love triangle should just be a throuple/poly) but now we've had three additional seasons of character building and arcs and the 2016 stoncy attitude would not mesh as perfect happy endings as a 2022 one. you know what i mean.

and THEN if u take the theoreticals away i don't think approaching relationships in this way makes... sense or is even super healthy anymore at least for these three characters in particular. and that just putting them all in a get along and all kiss now shirt doesn't get rid of the issues they ALL have with each other and with their own like. personal growth. like making them a throuple doesn't suddenly make the reasons steve and nancy don't work anymore and DIDN'T work suddenly evaporate and it doesn't change the weird hostile relationship steve and jonathan somehow still have and it doesn't fix the issues jancy are currently FACING. y'know. i see the potential appeal i just can't let it appear within my line of sight lest i start bleeding from my eye balls.

also like it's totally fair i suppose if these reasons in particular could maybe be why people like it ?? like for character study or something like it would be interesting but tbh i just don't care. i do not particularly like the direction jonathan's character has headed recently including re: steve and think steve should get a restraining order against him and after the absolute shit show of the clawed to death resurrection OF the stoncy love triangle in s4 even thinking about steve and nancy standing near each other right now makes the skeleton appear and st4ncy endgame would be such a horrific car crash of a backslide for them both i would have to commit suicide out of solidarity with the death of their characters. soooo basically um i don't like it that much teehee 😊✌️

[todayisafridaynight]

Dumb stupid headcanon of mine that doesn’t work in canon but I have it and I’m sharing because I have nowhere else to put it: Saeko and Mine get facials and manipedis together every month

i think mine deserves a girl's night and a girl bestie actually you're right for this anon omg

[wttcsms]

i'll pretend you'll stay forever ; kento nanami.

pairing kento nanami x f!reader  word count 2.4k  synopsis no one knows that the bodyguard for the prime minister's daughter fucks her on a daily basis. content contains bodyguard!nanami x prime minister's daughter!reader, big, beefy, strong nanami hehe, creampie, slight brat taming, pet names (baby, good girl, bad girl), cockwarming, dom!nanami, hair pulling, car sex, nanami makes you call him sir author's notes s2 was animated for the nanami girlies

Kento Nanami is good at his job.

Granted, he’s been practically bred for the position. Born and raised by a mother and father who also dealt in espionage, sent to boarding schools that would feed him directly to The Academy, constantly being reminded of his purpose. Agent Nanami serves as one of the Prime Minister’s most trusted secret operatives. A select few who are given the most sensitive assignments. 

“K-Kento — too much,” your shaky whines sound even louder than they actually are, emphasized by the silence in his car. 

Sensitive — yes, that’s what you are. 

“You can take it.” He tells you, gently stroking your cheek. His calloused thumb wipes away a stray tear, and he takes you in. You’re still tearing up, your lashes slick, and you’re pouting at him. You’re always pouting, probably because growing up, you’ve never been told no. It’s not required according to his assignment file (most of what Nanami has been doing with you has decidedly been not required), but Nanami’s been trying hard to give you lessons that will have you behaving politely and like a good girl rather than the spoiled brat you actually are.

Kento Nanami is good at his job.

When he’s told that he is to be the primary bodyguard for the Prime Minister’s daughter, he accepts it without hesitation. Everyone else has had no luck with you, and you certainly don’t seem to be bothered by that fact. You’re in college now, and you want nothing more than to skip lectures and go to parties, both of which is rather difficult when you have a bodyguard watching your every move and reporting directly to your father.

Nanami goes about his assignment in a different way. There’s another bodyguard, one who is also watching you, but young Itadori cannot possibly go about protecting the Prime Minister’s most beloved daughter safe all by himself. He’s barely graduated from the Academy.

Besides, you automatically dislike any of the guards assigned to you. Itadori is a nice, young man, and in different circumstances, everyone is certain that you would have enjoyed his company. The fact that his job is to protect you seems to be his only fatal flaw in your eyes.

Nanami is no stranger to undercover work, and so posing as a final year doctoral candidate at the university you’re attending is an easy cover. Setting up the perfect chain of events that leads to you specifically choosing him to be your economics tutor was also an easy enough task. 

And somewhere along the lines, you got this idea inside of your pretty, little head that you’re just the smartest, sneakiest girl around. You think you’re evading Itadori’s watchful eyes, taking advantage of his rookie status even though he’s always aware you’re “sneaking off” to meet with Nanami. You think you’re finally rebelling against your father’s strict instructions to stay out of trouble. 

And while Nanami does ensure that you keep out of trouble, he’s not sure if your father will approve with how he’s keeping you so obedient.

Kento Nanami is good at his job.

You’re not the first brat that he’s had to train, but you’re proving to be quite the star student. You hold back any more whining complaints, and instead, you’re straddling his lap like the good girl he knows you can be, his thick cock fitting snugly inside your pussy.

Both of your hands are clutching onto his broad shoulders, your pretty, manicured nails digging into the stiff cotton of his blue button-up. His mind doesn’t register the sting of your nails practically sinking into his skin. All he can focus on is what a pretty, dazed little mess you are. 

“See?” He coos, sounding not the least bit condescending. The warmth of his baritone, the reassuring strokes on your cheek — Nanami is a gentleman. You practically beam with pride as he tells you, “I told you you could take it. Such a good girl.”

You still haven’t moved yet, and Nanami whispers more words of praise for you. It only took two weeks of training to get you to understand that you can beg for his touch, his attention, his cock, all you want, but he gives it all to you under his terms and conditions. He knows you want some friction, knows that you need it so badly because why else are your walls clenching down so heavily on his length? You’re being so patient with him that he feels himself getting impossibly harder at the thought of your perfect behavior. 

“You want to ride me, baby?” The question comes out as a throaty whisper, the clear desire he has for you evident in his rough tone. 

You nod eagerly, damn near salivating at the thought of finally being able to take what you want. 

“Use your words.” He demands, moving his hand to caress your face once more before letting his thumb toy with your bottom lip. 

“Yes,” you whimper out, trying your hardest to resist the temptation to start moving, to have the feeling of his cock brushing against your walls, in and out, in and out.

His eyes narrow, and his cold demeanor is enough to keep you frozen in place. Oh, you’ve upset him. 

“You were being such a good girl, too.” He shakes his head in disappointment. “When you answer me, what are you supposed to say?”

“Y-yes, sir.” 

“And if you knew this, why didn’t you say it the first time?” The way he snaps at you shouldn’t give your tummy butterflies, but it does. Nanami is far kinder and gentler than he lets on, and it’s why you enjoy it when he takes on such a demanding role when it’s just the two of you. No one can handle your attitude as well as Nanami, and that’s precisely why you’re warming his cock right now, walls tightening around him with every stern scolding that leaves his mouth. 

“You can’t answer me?” The sharpness of his tone turns you demure, making you turn your head down and away from him, refusing to answer or look at him, and he frowns at that. You feel him wrapping your hair around his hand, and the movements are soft, slow, gentle at first—

—and with speed and dexterity that shouldn’t belong to a mere student, he’s yanking you by your hair, forcing you to snap your head up and look him in his cold eyes. 

“You were behaving so well earlier.” He feigns disappointment, but the hungry glint in his eyes tells you that he’s been looking forward to whatever punishment he has in store for you. “What a shame. I was going to let you have me however you wanted, let you take control for once.” He leans down, whispering in your ear. “Instead, it looks like I get to fuck you like the bad girl you really are, hm?” 

Before you can protest, apologize, beg for mercy, he takes his free hand to grip your waist, strong enough to lift you slightly off of him, only to slam you back down on his dick. 

You let out a strangled cry at the sudden intrusion. It’s one thing to have him sink into you inch by inch; it’s another thing entirely to have him practically impale you with his dick.

His thrusts are rough, hard, unforgiving. Never sloppy, though — Nanami’s much too meticulous to reduce himself to a wild animal, even though he’s fucking you so hard, you can’t tell if he hates your guts or just wants to rearrange them. 

His hand is still tangled in your hair, and he pulls some more, forces your neck to arch up. He leans in, licking at the soft skin of your neck before nipping at the skin, hard enough to leave a mark you’ll need to cover up with a turtleneck because no amount of concealer can save you now.

You mewl in pain at the sensation, but it’s obvious you love it. You’re dripping all over his dick, forcing wet, squelching sounds to fill the car every time he moves inside of you. You should be ashamed — would be ashamed — if only the overwhelming pleasure didn’t leave your mind shrouded in a hazy mist of lust and rapture. The pinpricks of pain from how he’s pulling your hair and from the fresh lovebites marking your flesh should hurt more, but you’re too lost in the way his cock is filling you up. 

“Look at that.” Nanami growls, untangling his hand from your hair in favor of putting his fingers to better use: stroking your clit. “You’re fucking soaked.” You look down as he commands, and your eyes widen in surprise, even though it shouldn’t come as such a shock to you. The front of his trousers is absolutely drenched with your juices, and your clit practically glistens in the faint moonlight that sneaks past the tint of his car. “Is this why you like to be a bad girl? Because you like getting fucked like a fleshlight, is that it?”

You want to shake your head no. You want to tell him that you are good, that you’re not a bad girl. But the stimulation on your clit, his harsh words, the way his cock is repeatedly hitting that special spot of yours — it’s all too much for you to handle.

“I want to treat you so well, baby. I want to spoil you, give you everything, but you make it so — fucking — difficult.” He speaks through clenched teeth, the warmth and ecstasy of being buried in your sweet pussy slowly chipping away at his resolve. The last three words of his sentence have all been punctuated by a particularly brutal thrust, and you’re certain that by the end of this, your cunt will keep the shape of his cock forever.

“I’m sorry!” You scream out, tears flowing freely down your cheeks now. The pleasure is mind-numbing, earth-shattering, reality-altering. Neither of you know what you’re apologizing for. Is it for being a bad girl when all Nanami wants is for you to behave so he can bring you the world at your feet? Is it for the wet mess you’re making all over his nice clothes and cock? Or is it for the fact that you’re breaking a cardinal rule, one that he will be most displeased by?

Maybe it’s all of the above, but if you had to pick, the apology would be for the fact that you’re cumming without permission. Your conscious mind is aware that Nanami is not going to be very happy with you, but this climax has you seeing stars. You can’t find it in yourself to worry about future consequences when you’re losing yourself in the throes of passion and pleasure. You’re drenching his cock in your cum, seeing stars, and reduced to feeling like a boneless mess. You slump against his strong chest, eyes struggling to remain open as you rest your head on one of his big, broad shoulders.

The punishment doesn’t come immediately — it rarely ever does. Nanami bides his time and doles out his punishments when you least expect it. He does it to keep you on edge, and you’d be lying if you said it didn’t excite you. 

Instead, he lets you rest against him, reduced to nothing more than a little, fucked-out mess. You feel a rumble from his chest, a series of grunts and curses leaving his mouth as the bucking of his hips is done so harshly, you’re certain that you’re going to be bruised everywhere, from the soft flesh of your thighs to your poor cervix. A few more thrusts and Nanami is certain that he is planted as deep as he could go, the tip of his cock hitting you at your most sensitive spot. 

You feel him bury his face into your hair, taking in the scent of your shampoo and the lingering aroma of sex and sweat. His cock throbs in sporadic bursts, and you hear him grunt out your name like a broken prayer.

He cums, unloading a hot, heavy load directly inside of you, flooding you. You think you forget how to breathe, and all you can do is just take it, take all of him.

The warm sensation has you moaning softly; the feeling of him completely dominating your senses, your body, you, has you wanting him to never let you go, to never leave. You tighten your core, trying to squeeze more of his cum into you as he lets out little groans of pleasure from above you. You love reducing him to a moaning mess, reducing him to this sex-dazed state whenever he lets go because of you.

You don’t think you’re capable of speech, throat raw from your previous screams of pleasure, but you find that you don’t have to speak to let Nanami know what you want. As you lift your head from his shoulder, relishing in the sight of Nanami with his head leaned back, cheeks flushed from the exertion of giving you the best dick of your life, he opens his eyes to meet yours. Leaning down, he captures your lips and gives you a messy, sloppy kiss that is so unbecoming and out of character for him. 

The makeout session lasts until your eyes feel droopy and you’re not responding anymore. Nanami just looks down at you with a fondness that he hasn’t felt for anyone else in a while. You’re all tuckered out, and you’re breathing softly and slowly, lost to the world of dreaming. He’s a bit exhausted, too. He should pull you off his cock and buckle you back safely in the passenger seat, but he sees a small trail of his cum dribbling out of your overstuffed pussy and he figures it’s less of a mess if he just keeps you nice and plugged up for the time being.

Before he can close his eyes and join you, the crackle of his telecom planted in his watch comes to life. The static doesn’t do much to alter Itadori’s voice.

“Y1 to K1, this is Y1 requesting status of the Princess. Over.”

The “Princess” is currently dozing peacefully with his cum settling in her cunt. Nanami thinks that’s too crude to relay over the comms, though.

“K1 to Y1, Princess is secured. Over.”

[kingkat12]

pornography (eric draven x reader)

WARNINGS: 18+, foul language, groping/fondling, dry-humping lol, mentions of substance abuse

summary: when you finally talk to Eric Draven in rehab, it doesn't take long before you get drawn together by a force stronger than anything you have ever encountered. it doesn’t help the situation that you eventually find out Eric has been drawing pictures of you… nude

word count: 2,337 PART 1, PART 2, PART 3

a/n: this is for all the girlies like me that just came home from watching The Crow and got their mind blown by how hot Bill was in it... holy fuck. had to write this blurb because I am so shaken up, I can't feel my face. enjoy!! there will be more parts hihi...

"I fucking hate pink," 

I couldn't believe that was the first thing I said to him-- the dark and broody stranger I had been eyeing through my first few weeks in rehab. He stared back at me, confusion swimming in his big green eyes, probably pondering why I had sat down next to him in the cafeteria. "Pardon?"

"It's a little ridiculous," I tried, watching as he put down his cutlery, pushing his food away as he gave me his full attention. Tugging at my pink sweater, which we were all wearing, I let out a nervous chuckle. "Whose idea was it to put a lot of addicts in pink, anyway?"

My eyes darted down to his hands as I waited for his answer-- they were huge up close, and completely covered in tattoos. I hadn't noticed them from afar; I had only noticed the ones peeking through the top of his shirt when he would pass me by in the hall, or the big eye he had on his chest that I had seen while passing by his room. I knew it wasn't nice to peek into his room while he was changing, but I was quite frankly starved of any male contact-- any girl would go crazy in here. 

He eventually shrugged, giving me the answer I least expected; "I guess pink is supposed to be a calming colour. It's not that bad," I watched as the corners of his mouth tugged upwards, giving away hints of amusement. "Aren't you girls supposed to like pink?"

"Maybe," I mumbled, nudging food around on my plate with my fork. "I just don't like to wear it. It doesn't suit me."

The handsome stranger didn't seem to agree, another shrug following accompanied by a shy laugh. "I can't figure out whether you're being sincere or searching for compliments,"

This was most definitely not how I wanted to come off. I straightened up, resting my elbows against the table as I cleared my throat. "I'm just trying to make conversation,"

"... Why?"

"Because you've been staring at me almost as much as I've been staring at you," I put down my fork, hoping he didn't see how nervous I was. In truth, he had been staring-- it wasn't all purely one-sided. I had caught him staring at me in the courtyard, on my way to the shower, and I had also caught him lingering outside my room several times. He would usually leave when I came out, disappearing down the hall with speed I wouldn't even dream to catch up with. 

He finally gave in to a smirk, nodding to himself as he lowered his head. "Sorry," It was clear that he hadn't thought he'd be called out like this. However, something told me he wasn't too upset about being caught either. 

"Don't be," I said, feeling my anxiety ripping through my veins. Why was I indulging? "I just--"

It was at this moment that a guard appeared behind him, yanking him away from the table with a harshness that made me gasp. I clasped my hand over my mouth, watching as he barely reacted to the brutality. 

"Guys and girls eat separately!" the guard yelled at me, slamming his fist down on the table. 

My eyes widened, looking back at the handsome stranger. "But I-- I was the one who sat down here, he didn't do anything!" I protested, watching as the guard grabbed him and led him away. Groaning, I ran my hands through my hair, frustrated with the rules at this place. Why was it so fucking strict?

I eventually looked up just in time to see that the man had managed to turn around, smirking my way; "I'm Eric!" he said, holding back a laugh as he was shoved along the cafeteria for everyone to see.

Despite the horror washing over me for getting him in trouble, I managed to croak out my name as well. It seemed that he appreciated that I had at least tried to stick up for him-- What was it that I had just started?

My question would be answered a lot quicker than I had expected. 

A few days passed, and more looks and stares were exchanged. I was dying to talk to Eric again. I knew I hadn't been sent to rehab to make friends or get feelings for someone, but something was gnawing at me to talk to him again. I wanted to be around him constantly; what was happening to me? I recognized this feeling-- it was the same feeling I got when I really, really craved something... Fuck, how I missed drugs. Maybe Eric was turning into a substitute?

It wasn't often that the door to Eric's room was open, but today it was. I wouldn't have noticed it if I hadn't taken the extra lap around the institute as usual, hoping to get a glimpse of him through the small window in his door. But today, I didn't have to get on my tippytoes to get a look-- there he was, picking up several drawings that had been scattered around the floor. His room looked like a mess, completely unlike how I was used to seeing it through the tiny window. This looked like the result of one of those raids that the prison guards sometimes did when they suspected there were hidden drugs in a patient's room. 

I felt sorry for him; I knew how horrible it could feel to have someone rip through all your stuff. But as I bent down and picked up a few drawings that were at my feet, my lips parted in surprise.

It seemed I wasn't the only one caught off guard; Eric noticed me standing in his doorway, letting out a relieved sigh as he watched me inspect his drawings. He called out my name, leaning against the wall as he sized me up and scanned me, crossing his arms over his chest. 

I cleared my throat; "Is this... me?" I held up the first drawing of the bunch. It was a sketch of me sitting in the courtyard, and I was sure that it was me-- I suppose it was my shock asking for confirmation. 

Eric snickered, kicking off the wall. "Yeah... Sorry,"

"Stop saying sorry," I shuffled through the drawings, finding he had drawn me in multiple settings, and it was clear that I had been watched the few weeks I'd been here. "These are beautiful, Eric... I guess I'm honoured--" My words trailed off as I finally approached the last drawing. Was that...?

He didn't even try to take it away from me. Eric sighed, looking away as his cheeks flushed a light pink, similar to our uniforms. 

Judging by his reaction, I had a feeling he wasn't so against me seeing this. It was a sketch of me, after all-- nude. 

I had to swallow rather hard for anything to go down. I couldn't pinpoint why I wasn't absolutely horrified at this.  "So... this is what you've been up to in here, huh?" There was no stopping the smirk that spread across my lips, holding back a flustered giggle. "This is next-level pervy, do you know that?"

It didn't take long before Eric's big hands ripped the drawings out of my hands, turning away as he shook his head. "Every artist needs a muse, no?"

"A muse? How can I be your muse if we don't know each other?"

"That's not how it works," he mumbled, throwing away the drawings into a heap on the bed. "Your beauty is all I need to get inspired."

This was enough to shock me into silence. I inhaled a sharp breath, stepping into Eric's room despite knowing it was forbidden. "So now you think I'm beautiful?"

Eric hummed, finally turning to meet my eyes. "It hasn't been the biggest secret, has it?" There was something playful about him, shameless, as though it didn't matter to him that I had just found his handmade porn. "It gets a little lonely in here, I guess. These drawings just... run out of me like water. Can't control it."

There was something so unimaginably tantalizing about Eric. Everything about him made me want to jump him then and there-- was it maybe the result of my withdrawals that were turning my brain into further mush? In a normal setting, this would have creeped me out to infinity and beyond, but knowing this was coming from the man I had been lusting after from afar for several weeks made me excuse it in a heartbeat. 

I had no idea what possessed me to close the door to his room and lock it, knowing the repercussions could be severe if we were caught. But Eric didn't seem to mind; his green eyes widened, watching my every move like a hawk.

"It was really pretty and all... The drawing, I mean," I said, inching closer to where he had sat down on the bed. "But would you maybe want some inspiration for the next one?"

Eric's plush, pink lips parted, eyes rounding out in surprise. Despite his shock, his big hands reached out for me as I came closer, and he pulled me in between his legs. I could feel him caressing my back through my shirt, holding me with the utmost gentle touch. "I'll take all I can get," he murmured, looking up at me through his brows, a knowing smirk spreading across his face. 

I let out a giggle as he pressed his lips against my stomach through my shirt, enjoying the intense feeling of someone against my skin again after all this time. Eric pulled away, glancing at the door before slowly trailing his fingers under my shirt, testing the waters. 

It didn't take long before that wasn't enough for him-- my breath hitched as Eric grabbed my waist, pulling me down with him on the bed. I barely had time to think before the euphoric feeling of being kissed engulfed me. Our lips met in an open, soft kiss, almost as though we were scared to break the other if we were too needy or harsh. As I straddled him, I felt his hands tugging at my shirt, dipping back under the fabric once more. His fingers gently ghosted over my lower back, eventually ending up trailing small circles with his thumbs along the underside of my bra. 

If I hadn't been so starved of any human contact in here, I would've never jumped the opportunity like this. But none of us knew how long we had until the guards would bust us, and it only fueled the adrenaline pumping through our veins. Our kisses became desperate, hungry, and I let out a whimper against his lips as he took the liberty of cupping my chest, feeling me up to his heart's delight. I knew I had been waiting for this moment since the first time I saw him, and I wasn't about to let it slip through my fingers-- I decided to let him do whatever he wanted to me, no matter what. 

I could feel Eric's cock twitch beneath me, clearly aroused. It was also at this moment that he made me sit up, tugging my shirt off of me before laying back down to scan me. Was he memorizing my body for his next sketch? It wasn't every night that I had a handsome stranger beneath me like this, so I allowed him to trail his hands up and down my body, lips parting in delight. "Fuck... Yeah, this will do," he murmured, pupils dilating at the sight before him whether he wanted them to or not.

"You sure?" I asked, giggling to myself. My hands rested against his broad chest, letting out a sigh of delight; God, he was sexy. As I shifted in his lap, Eric's breath hitched as I seemingly sat down in the exact right spot. Almost as though he was possessed by instinct for a moment, he grabbed my hips, rocking me against him through the fabric of our clothes. 

Who would've thought I'd be dry-humping this stranger and enjoy it so much? My hands gripped his shirt, a quiet moan spilling past my lips-- I had forgotten this feeling. This was mostly something I did when I was a teenager, before I figured out how to have proper sex with my high school boyfriend. But it felt so damn fucking good, desperate; it didn't take long before I leaned back down, capturing his plush lips in another kiss. 

I craved him like water. I wanted him against me, in me, for him to take me in every possible position ever-- a deep, dark part of me knew I would be insatiable from now on. 

But our moment of ecstasy was interrupted when a guard started banging his fist against the door, his muffled yells barely registering through my arousal. Despite my dazed state, it didn't take me long to drape my shirt back on, climbing off Eric with wobbly knees. "Shit," I mumbled, turning to him with wide eyes. "I'm screwed. We're screwed."

Everything about him was so damn beautiful. The kiss-swollen lips definitely didn't help how gorgeous I thought he looked right now. Despite the situation, knowing we were in deep shit, Eric let out a soft chuckle; "I don't think you're screwed enough, actually. We'll get to that another time," 

My eyes widened as I gave into a light giggle. There was no way this was happening-- had my naughty rehab dreams come true? The guard banging against the door was drowned out by the incessant ringing in my ears that festered through my mind as Eric leaned down to kiss me one last time; "I hope to see you around, if they don't kill us,"

"Yeah," I breathed, only now realizing how tall he was as I looked up to meet his gaze. This man was towering over me. Holy shit. "Can't wait to see your next masterpiece."

I couldn't wait. I really couldn't.

(a/n: PART 2, PART 3 here!! enjoy<33)

[princessbrunette]

⊹ ᜊ(ᜊ ´ ˘)੭ ♡ … princess going digital! ♡

bsf!jj followed you on all of your social media accounts. well, he thought he did. ꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱ ౨ৎ⋆ ˚｡⋆

your instagram was adorable and demure. photo dumps and stories of your daily iced coffee in your little manicured hand. you had pinterest boards too — jj had seen you scrolling through endless pictures of clothes on his bed and asked questions. you helped him make his own account so he could find new ideas on how to customise his board. he hasn’t opened the app since, but it seemed like it made you happy so he couldn’t find it in himself to delete it off his lockscreen.

he followed you on twitter too. he knew he did because he saw your tweets all up and down his timeline when he would be scrolling late at night trying to find porn. tweets about the cashier that was rude to you, or about that one song you just can’t get out your head.

he thought he’d covered all bases with you. he liked to be in tune with everything you were doing — and maybe that was wrong for a best friend to want, but the two of you were close! it only felt right. it may also have something to do with the fact he’s head over heels for you.

you were laying on your front on his bed. contrasting so sweetly against the boyishness of his room with your cute little hello kitty shirt and denim skirt — epitome of girly girl in such an unfitting space. it made him smile, and he nearly forgot to tune into what you were saying.

you were ranting about your mother again, the woman making it her mission to constantly bring you down.

“seriously jayj, if you saw the way she spoke to me...” you mutter with a frowny little pout as your fingers tap away at the screen, assumably responding to a text.

“i have seen the way she speaks to you. the lady is a nut job, no offence.” jj leans back slightly, tossing a balled up pair of socks from his laundry in the air and catching it.

“her texts are even worse.” you huff.

“s’alright. i’ll be your mommy.” he quips as you’re distracted by pulling up the correct screen.

“jj.” you tsk before turning your phone around. “look!” you whine, and he knows he’s meant to be looking at the texts displayed infront of him. but with undiagnosed adhd, jj couldn’t help but find his focus on the notification sliding down at the top of the screen. the twitter icon, notifying someone reposted your tweet — however, it was accompanied with another username he’d never seen before. an account ran by you assumably, that he no idea about.

“huh… yeah, no yeah. she’s batshit.” jj shakes himself off as he takes mental note of the username, leaning back and hoping you don’t ask any questions knowing he didn’t read the texts at all. you seem none the wiser, continuing to complain and go about your business. that evening, it’s time for you to head home. jj squeezes you at the doorway, cups your cheek and tells you that if your mom is giving you grief, you can come right on back. it seemed to comfort the pout off your face, and you skip off.

now it’s time to sate his curiosity.

when jj gets into bed that night, he types the username into twitter. it takes a few tries to get the specific spelling right, as it had been a few hours and slipped his mind — but finally, the account filled his screen.

your age is attached to the account, yet no name. there was definitely a sense of anonymity— to the point where you hadn’t even told him about it. he considered doing the right thing and clicking off — but jj didn’t always do the right thing, and this was one of those times. the first thing he notices is how clearly you the account is. the header, the profile picture — even the font in your bio was so… you. all curlicues and girly and pink — it was undeniably his best friend.

and then he scrolls.

‘want my best friend 2 hold me down n use me so bad :(’ a tweet from 3 days ago. the blonde sits up in bed, blinking at the screen. that was him, right? eagerly, he continues his scrolling — finding endless tweets about your sexual desires, fantasies, anecdotes about jj himself. it didn’t take much longer of scrolling until he comes across a video — his face heating and crotch stiffening at the familiarity of it all. it was your bedroom, and your face was cropped out. that one pair of pink panties he occasionally caught peeks of beneath your skirt hang off the ankle of your knee high clad legs, pretty pussy on display, glistening as you roll your hips, desperately fucking a pillow.

“god… damn.” he breathes, hand coming up to rub his chest as if to attempt to still his quick-beating heart. he stuffs a tongue in his cheek, part of him wanted to be mad that you were letting strangers on the internet see you like this before he got to. it was a childish type of jealousy that made his hands sweat and the back of his neck all prickly.

a bird squawks outside his window, causing the maybank boy to jump out of his skin like he was about to be caught watching his best friend get herself off. he juggles the phone, quickly checking the screen to make sure he hadn’t accidentally liked any posts. he hadn’t, and he exhales— but with the commotion, he’d accidentally refreshed the page. the loading wheel disappears with a pop, and a new tweet displays itself from three minutes prior.

‘my bsf looks after me so good :( he shld make me feel btter by letting me cum on his fingers <3’

it would be stupid to make a move. he would be potentially destroying a friendship, and on top of that — you could be mad at him for snooping. it was kind of a betrayal of trust after all, similar to if he’d read your diary. but his dick was hard and had taken over the steering wheel that operates his brain — and like he always said, stupid things had great outcomes all the time.

so with a clammy hand, he calls you.

“whats up jayj? did i leave something at your place again?” you croak, sounding all sleepy and cute. god, he couldn’t believe he’d waited so long.

“uh… so, like — imma cut to the chase, with everything goin’ on at your place, i don’t love the idea of you stayin’ there tonight. i’m comin’ to get you. you’re stayin’ here.” he makes up a quick excuse and feels kind of bad about it. his own desire toward you being masked as genuine concern for a friend. he expects some questioning, maybe even some resistance— but you perk up instantly.

“okay!”

and that’s exactly how you end up cradled in his lap with the rings at his knuckles tickling your opening from how deep in your greedy, drooling pussy they were.

“hmm— mm—huh—” you’re whining, all incoherent and fucked out with your cheek smushed against him, only two orgasms in. jj is grinning ear to ear, like some kind of sicko — never in his life thinking you’d want him like this. he almost wished he’d kept up the act for longer, preyed on your twitter account for longer to see what else you’d say, but he couldn’t help himself. he’d wanted you since you met in high school, and he was hungry.

“what’d i tell ya about not asking for things? could’ve just told me dude, i literally wanted this more than you.” he thinks out loud and you groan, pulling yourself up face to face with the handsome blonde.

“don’t call me dude when your fingers are n’side me!” you slur, lip all puffy and pouted. he smirks, unable to stop himself from finding amusement in your neediness and tilts his head a little so he was breathing right into your mouth.

“i’m sorry that’s my bad. baby.” he corrects himself, before pressing his lips to yours. that was much better.

[pedgito]

𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐓𝐋𝐄 𝐃𝐎𝐕𝐄 | Marcus Acacius x reader

↝ masterlist | requests? | ao3 | update blog | fic rec | ko-fi

summary | once your dad's greatest friend, now his greatest enemy. you cannot shake the desire and care you feel for the fallen general, even as he heads toward death.

author's note | LISTEN, none of this is going to be accurate. and frankly idc, i'm horny i needed to write this do not come at me. no source material? idc i'm still writing it. anyways, enjoy the p*rn. (if you're reading this prior to the movie coming out, none of this is canon. this is just an idea that i wanted to write and felt like posting, if you do not like the idea of writing without source material, please do not engage or send me asks to be combative, they will be deleted. i won't be continuing this specific fic and will not be writing for him again until the movie comes out.)

content warning | 18+ smut, this is dbf for the gladiator girlies (gn), sneaking around, descriptions of smut, oral (f receiving), fingering, unprotected piv, creampies, breeding kink, age gap (reader is early 20s, marcus is late 40s/early 50s), alcohol tw, innocence kink

word count —2k

You knew he would be here soon, he must. 

You curled into the dark corners of the arena hall, having been here since dawn with your own father, a high military commander who struck down Marcus as punishment for such things even he wouldn’t tell you about. You knew nothing, heard nothing—you weren’t allowed such privilege. 

It has been days since you last saw him—Marcus. General Acacius to many, another esteemed leader amongst the masses, and a once great friend to your father. Though, that was no longer.

You often called him sir, finding that General Acacius was quite the mouthful. Or often just General, but his endearment toward you was blatant and he insists, almost pleading that you drop the formality when alone. Which was easier, as your fondness of him grew.

It started at a celebration, one of the many grand parties thrown in celebration of fight won or any reason for the men to drink, but Marcus liked to linger. Often tucked away in a corner watching the madness unfold, you were too curious to stay locked up in your room.

The first night he caught your eye, it was a smile around the edge of his silver goblet drowning in red wine, a hand crossed over his chest as he watched you slip away in fear that he may say something to your father.

But, he never did.

For weeks after, it progresses. From a smile, to a lingering gaze, eventually he finds himself inching closer to you, week by week. Until one night he finally finds the courage in himself to be waiting by the corner you often sneak around, watching curiously.

“You are pushing it, dove.” He speaks softly, his eyes downturned to look at you from the step he was on above you, slowly inching down until he was level, “if he catches you—”

“He hasn’t,” You tell him in a clipped, hushed tone, “and you haven’t said anything. You won’t….will you?”

He bypasses the question, “Why do you come here?” Marcus curiously asks, “These men, they are—animals, if they see you dressed like that, they would not hesitate to—”

You had on a pale nightgown, thin and barely enough to cover your modesty but it was enough. The sticky, summer heat prickled your skin, formed a line of sweat across your brow and you huffed out at his words, “My father would murder them. Besides, you are not like them. So, why do you linger here?”

He was much more than a friend, closer and akin to family. 

But, he had his own troubles. Stepson, a wife, he should be away caring for them. Yet, he was there with a disgruntled scowl and eyes only set on you.

“Why not?” He shrugs, “It is…quite entertaining. Isn’t that why you sneak around here to watch?”

You mimic his shrug, shying away slightly as you pull away to leave, but his hand catches your wrist, his cup placed in the gap of pillars separating you both. His facial expressions show an internal battle of thought, like he’s fighting against the bad and hoping the good would win out.

Unfortunately, the bad prevails.

“Let us walk,” He tells you, nodding toward the exit a few feet away, “if you would accompany me?”

You nod eagerly, switching the grip on your wrist to curl around his bicep, muscular and hard from years of fight training. He flexes slightly at the touch, covering his free hand over yours in a comforting gesture. 

He made you feel safe. And that was all that mattered to you.

—

The walk was the first mistake.

It wasn’t more than a few minutes before you found yourself tucked away by a nearby tent, unbuckling and unfastening Marcus out of his gear hastily before he fucked you under your nightgown—gentle but firm. He was the first man, the first ever to have you in such a way. You’d told him so as your hands shook under the weight of his gaze, the taste of bitter wine on his lips. He’d kissed you as he pushed his cock inside of you and didn’t stop until you were tipping over the edge.

Over time, you grow bolder. Sneaking him back into your home was easy, knowing the guards weren’t as watchful in the late, late hours of the night. It was dangerous, reckless, but as you tug him down into the cellar and sink to your knees, it all fades away quickly.

His little dove, he often calls you. Sweet dove, so pure and innocent. His hand caresses your chin as you swallow him down, eyes locked on his half-lidded gaze before he comes down your throat, nose scrunching up slightly and his brow furrowing, biting at the back of his other hand to muffle the groan that escapes him.

It was always like this—hurried and quick fucks that didn’t diminish the feeling, but reminded you how easily you could both be caught. It continues for months…and months, until suddenly he stops coming around.

No parties, no visits—Marcus had become a ghost.

But, enough digging had led you here, tucked away in the shadows again—but watching as he fought for his life. The other man was much older, weaker, and Marcus struck him down within a matter of minutes, blood splattering across his face as he stuck again and again, bashing the poor man’s skull in until it was nothing, teeth gritting as his body surged with adrenaline.

Gladiator fighting wasn’t a new thing—and you knew he wasn’t the only one, but why?

He’s making his way down the arena toward the pillar you are tucked behind unknowingly, alone and battered as the guards run off to dispose of the body. You aren’t sure where Marcus is going now or when you would see him again, but you take the chance when you know no one is watching, grabbing him by the armor plate on his chest and pulling him away and into a dusty closet, knocking into a stack of buckets in the process.

You gasp as his hand wraps around your neck, fist cocked back in preparation of an attack.

But, then his eyes land on you.

“Dove, what are you—”

You shush him quickly, hands molding against his face and the dried blood, his breathing quick and short as you attempt to calm him.

“I had to see you—I thought…I thought you had—”

“I might as well be,” Marcus replies somberly, “we cannot meet like this. We cannot meet at all.”

“It’s fine, It’s fine–” You assure him, reaching forward to press your lips against his.

Marcus pulls away hesitantly, grabbing your face roughly until you look at him, eyes widening.

“They will kill you. I cannot see you again. I should not even be here with you.”

Your eyes well with tears, forcing yourself forward again to capture his lips and this time he allows it, opening his mouth slightly as your tongue dips inside, working silently at the buckles to his chest plate.

“No talking. Let us…enjoy this. If it is the last time.”

You were both well aware—he would fight for his life or die, that was it. And he would fight until that point came. He was no longer a General, completely stripped of his power. But, he was still Marcus. And you would hold onto that for as long as you could.

He’s shaking, the adrenaline raking his body and making him restless as you kissed him, tongue dipping into his mouth again as his hands roamed, squeezed, caressed. 

“I will not break,” You whisper into his mouth, “take what you need, Marcus.”

It was all he needed to hear, turning you around swiftly and forcing your down with a hand against your back, arms pressing into the shelf in front of you as he pushed up the silk, carefully woven and intricate fabric of your dress—so pristine and perfect. He wanted to rip it off you, be he refrains, squeezing at your hips while he kneels behind you.

“Marcus, you need not—”

“Quiet, little dove. Let me have this,” He licks against your cunt hungrily, noisy slurps as he lapped you up, squeezing less than gentle at the inside of your thighs as they shook, his tongue swiping over your clit, a broken moan slipping past your lips, “beautiful—let me hear you.”

“Marcus,” You plea, his fingers joining his tongue as they breached you and drag against the soft, but incredibly sensitive spot inside of you, your hand reaching for his wrist tucked between your legs as you whined out his name once more, twice, until your legs gave out, feelings his strong, broad shoulders flexing as he used his brute strength to keep you upright, licking up the gush of fluids that leak out of you, rising with haste and untucking himself from his garments, wrapping a gentle hand around the back of your neck before he’s pulling you upright harshly.

“Want to leave you something,” He whispers against the shell of your ear, “something to remember me, if I shall never leave here. Something of me for you to carry on. Alright, sweet dove?”

You nod knowingly, as Marcus had always been careful to pull himself out before breaching that point. He was always careful, hesitant—but being on the brink of death, he found himself careless and desperate. He couldn’t let you go.

He slips inside of you with a hand tucked around your throat, pulling your back to his chest as he snapped his hips into you firmly, groaning lewdly into the side of your neck as he bit down, squeezing at your throat with every soft sound you made and you want it just as bad, forcing your hips back into every push of his cock—you were positive this pain would last you into next week, but you needed that reminder. His fingers dip into your skin, hard and uncaring and sure to leave marks, but that was what you wanted.

And his groans quickly turn needy, more high-pitched than you’ve ever heard them

He’s holding back, restraining himself. You turn your head, catching his heated gaze as he pants, your thumb tracing over his lip. His hand drags over your stomach, rests, curious of how beautiful you would look swollen and carrying his child. 

It is a hopeful and distant dream, one that he will never foresee.

“Give it to me, Marcus,” You beg him, “I want it.”

It so easily undoes him, “Take it, my dove,” He growls, coming deep inside of you with a shaky thrust of his hips, squeezing you tight against him, “I think of you, always. You must know—know that.” 

It pulls at your heart, tugs in a way that makes your entire body ache. He pulls out with a low grunt, silently tucking himself away as you adjust your dress.

“And I love you,” You admit, watching as his gaze pulls up quickly, “even if you cannot say it back. I know. I know you do.”

Marcus breathes harshly through his nose, crowding you once more but it is soothed by a gentle kiss, “You need to leave—do not come back here.”

“Marcus,” You counter, sadness lacing your tone.

“If, by some miracle, I make it out of here,” He drags his thumb along your jawline, pausing on his words as he looks you over, memorizes you, “I will find you.”

You nod jerkily, eyes never breaking from his, “Just like you always have.”

divider creds: @/cafekitsune

thanks to @chaotic-mystery & @pr0ximamidnight for being the absolute best friends ever and beta'ing this for me on a moments notice, ily both.