#for sale: inquire within | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

pedgito · 3 months ago

Text

𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐃 𝐅𝐀𝐕𝐎𝐑 | Marcus Acacius x f!reader

summary | A female gladiator plucked from the arena by the most powerful general in Rome, convinced to serve under his command. You learn that his taste for blood might not be so different from your own.

author's note | the horny demons strike again. this has a little plot, thanks to the beautiful minds of @ovaryacted and @kedsandtubesocks who deal with my crazy so generously.

content warning | 18+ mdni, set pre-gladiator ii, description of war & mistreatment of women in roman society, female gladiator, dark-ish!acacius, reader has minimal backstory, but is revealed to be nameless (uses monikers given to her: medusa, fury, minerva), fighting, m*rder, blood tw, gore tw, sa warning (i have it annotated further below with content, but nothing graphic) acacius covered in someone elses blood as he fucks you, copious smut, biting as a little treat

word count — 8k

“How much?” Acacius inquires, tapping his finger against the iron bars holding you prisoner, staring back at the men. The ginger twins and a man—no, a general. Dressed in a toga of thick material, embroidered with intricate designs, gold bangles at his wrist, a telltale sign of high honor.

“Oh, she is…” The older one, Geta, teeth digging into his bottom lip as he shakes his head, “priceless—quite the fighter, too.”

“Does she have a name?”

Geta smirks to himself, “They call her Medusa. She favors beheading, it seems.” Geta waggles a finger through the bars and smirks, nose scrunching as he addresses you, “Correct?”

You ignore him, responding with a stare—much like your given moniker; if looks could kill.

“She’s bested them all,” Caracalla boasts from beside his brother, Dundus fiddling with his hair from where she was perched on his shoulder, “even our lion that we’ve had since kids.”

“It was a stupid idea, your fault,” Geta retorts, “but—again, she’s not for sale.”

“I’ll conquer India within the next few nightfalls, a handful of new gladiators fresh for the choosing, for your entertainment—how does that sound?”

Greedy as they were and entirely too incompetent, Caracalla agrees before his brother can open his mouth.

“Will you bring her back to visit?” Caracalla inquires with an underlying excitement—the poor brother was nothing but a dunce, erratic and impulsive, but all too easy to manipulate. “The others may miss her.”

“Indeed,” Another swift but convincing lie, Caracalla and Acacius shake hands on the deal before Geta can retort, fuming with rage as he stomps away.

He’d taken a liking to your fighting style despite his distaste for the arena. Strategic and skilled, brute strength and a drive that was built around pure survival but somehow all while maintaining the perfect amount of gracefulness that men did not. Constant calculation, finesse, it was like an art.

He’s gone through several guards over his rule, some from sacrifice but others out of pure ignorance. He needed a strong base, malleable but resistant. He could shape you into a leader, he thinks. He knows.

Your hard stare is like ice as the keys jingle into the lock, a defining click a resounding echo of freedom and General Acacius extends his palm.

A gesture of freedom, a new life, trepidation fills you despite your yearn for a way out of this prison. Here it was, served up on a platter covered in intricate facets of white and gold, stubble brushing his cheeks and soft brown eyes offering kindness.

This was not a man of sheer violence, not the tales they tell about him—this was a man of trouble, conflict, and an instinct to protect himself. And he’d chosen you.

Your hands slips into his, a similar roughness to match his own and scars that Acacius knew well enough of—you were a true fighter, a warrior.

The two boys—calling the men would be too easy, they often acted like spoiled children, were already off to their own chambers, and Acacius had only dropped his hard facade slightly, still under the watchful eye of Rome’s guards, he led you onto your new life.

“I cannot accept,” You argue, as respectful as you could manage, hands crossed firmly over your front, near your waist as you spoke to General Acacius in his private office at home, a place few have stepped foot into, but yet somehow, again, you were given a free pass.

“Are you refusing my order?” Acacius counters, there’s pillowyness to his tone, almost taunting.

“Sir—er, General,” It was all new to you, formalities, structure, rules, “I…am a woman.”

“I am not blind,” Acacius squints his eyes slightly, before leaning back in the creaky chair, “my men—they will not question my choices. They listen, they do their duties. They need strong leadership. Gladiator, I believe you can bestow that upon them.”

“I am a stranger to you, you know nothing of me,” You tell him, a full truth, “General, I fear you may have made the wrong decision, I am not what you think I—”

Silently, Acacius fingers curl around the handle to a drawer hidden behind his desk, pulling out a sharp knife with a handle carved of bone, twisting it in his grip before he’s rearing his arm back, throwing it in your direction.

It zips by with force, the tip of the knife snagging and burying itself deep into the wall behind you, your head whipping to the side to follow it, the sharp blade barely missing the skin of your ear.

Quick reflexes. You turn back to a smirking Acacius.

“I am positive, had I thrown that between your eyes you would have caught it without overthinking the consequences—most of my men would do the same,” Acacius lectures, standing with his brutish frame and walking toward the wall, the soft flow of a breeze kissing at your fists.

“Though, I have another proposition,” Acacius says lightly, twisting the knife in his hand, the pointing spinning against his fingertip as he circles around you, “—attack me.”

“Sir,” You argue, “that surely defeats the purpose of—”

His fist balls up tight and aims for your side. Acacius sees it, the anticipation as you block his hand. He chuckles underneath his breath, “Please, continue,” He teases, twisting out of your grip to pull another punch that you block with ease—he was going easy, you think.

Natural reaction takes hold and his test quickly turns into a full-out brawl, twisting and slipping underneath his grip until you have him pinned against a nearby wall, teeth bared with his forearm pressed against his throat, struggling to grip his free arm.

The real test is here, as Acacius bares the knife near your neck, an immediate reaction to protect yourself rather than go for the kill shot, knowing that anyone of normal skill would be too full of bloodlust to think of anything other than killing you. Protection and defense came first, taking the small nick of a cut to your own forearm before you’re knocking the knife out of his hand and wrestling him to the ground with a swift kick to his leg, rendering him helpless.

“Indeed, you are exactly what I think you are,” Acacius says with finality, “I want you to lead my personal guard. Whatever it is I must do to obtain that, my lady I will do—riches, bribery—”

You push away from him with a heavy exhale, standing and adjusting your clothes, brushing your hair away from your face, “No need, I will do it.”

Acacius rolls to his back, hand extending once more.

This time, it is you offering the help as he uses the leverage to rise to his feet before speaking to you with a triumphant tone.

“Commander,” He grins, “let us plan.”

–

He often asks of your lineage, your home. But, there is nothing to offer. A long conquered piece of land now under the rule of Rome and a home that was never a home. An orphan you had always been, nameless, taking greedily whatever name was bestowed upon you.

In the arena it was Medusa, the tale of a vicious woman with god-like power. Caracalla had told you of the story, the boys having taken a liking to you in different ways. Geta was fiendish, hungry, often seeking you out for his own pleasure to which you wouldn’t deny. Couldn’t. He could be rough, but he wasn’t.

He seemed lonely, the poor boy.

Carcalla was only searching for a friend despite his unruly, chaotic nature. When he wasn’t ruling with tyranny over Rome, terrorizing the townspeople, he was telling you stories.

Other times it was only she. Or her. Or just girl. The girl.

You were only what people assumed of you, expected you to be.

“Medusa, ay?” A greasy looking man confirms, one of the six men who were to be under your command, “The gladiator?”

“You will respect her,” General Acacius had warned them, “or an apology will be your dying breath.”

It had struck most of them with fear. Most of them.

And for many nights, countless, it seems—the transition of leadership was smooth. You had an unyielding grip on them, awaiting direction, following your orders. It was the kind of rush most would only dream of, and as a woman, it was an unforeseen privilege.

“They address you as Medusa, too,” Acacius notes during a roundtable session as the other men wander off for dinner, “do you wish for them to address you differently?”

“I have no name, General,” You admit, “I am whatever I must be. If they think of me as so, that is what I am. Though, I would love to turn a few of them into stone, given I was granted her powers.”

“I believe you could manage that feat without them,” Acacius jokes, “—but, nameless? Even at birth?”

“I know nothing of my birth parents. They told me I was found wrapped in cloth under the bridge that led into the town your army eventually turned to rubble,” A bittersweet feeling, speaking unusually out of term, facing him with the facts, “though, it does not matter. I enjoy the fear they have of me, keeps wandering hands at bay.”

Such an enigma, Acacius eyes you curiously. It was the most you’ve opened up to him since retrieving you from your cell, and even then, still forcing him to face the consequences of war.

The guilt followed him at every waking moment.

“Do you need anything further of me, General?” You ask politely, “You have spoiled my appetite as of late and your men are greedy with the stew.”

“You are dismissed,” He speaks distantly, turning over the thick, coarse paper with a drawn out map of the territory they were to invade soon, a lingering well wish leaving his lips, “sleep well, commander.”

Unfortunately, you’ve turned to sleeping with a knife under your bedroll—with a lingering ache of betrayal, you weren’t allowing yourself to lower your guard.

The attacks do not start at night. Rather during the day, when the General is off and away, scouting ahead further when half of his army while the other half sticks at camp, keeping claim.

That is when the insults come, the disbelief, the mockery.

Most of his men settled with the idea, having accepted your position even if it displeased them.

But, there was one. Like a bull—hardheaded and stocky, fists and arms like clubs, testosterone radiating from his body in crashing waves. He wants you to fear him, submit to him.

You feel it. You see it. And you’ve been through it before, other large and brutish gladiators thinking with their muscles rather than their brains. It wouldn’t take long for them to meet their demise, but this one was…different.

He approaches you with a smile than anyone could see right through, a finger brushing your cheek as he pushes a strand of hair behind your ear, leaning in to brush his lips against the shell of it.

“They are hungry,” He drips of vicious intention, “—I say, you give us a show. Entertain us, Medusa.”

Your eyes snap to him, staring him down.

“Pitiful Acacius isn’t here to save you,” He warns, “though, I have reason to believe he is as weak as most men—spread your legs and he’ll be begging for a taste, too.”

“I will gut you where you stand,” You warn, reaching for the thick machete at your waist, “you’re like a pig. Brainless and greedy for whatever you can get. Touch me, I dare you.”

The rest of the men are relatively quiet, but they do not stop him. Smirks and half-smiles hidden behind their cups, lounging on a log near their tents, enjoying the entertainment.

It was nightfall, the fire crackling between you and them, a towering presence at your backside.

And as he dares to, his hand slides up your waist.

Without hesitation you flip the weapon in your grip, grabbing at his wrist and slicing at his arm—a featherlight touch, it was merrily a glorified papercut, but his eyes widened in shock.

“Let us see how well you touch without fingers,” You threaten, flipping the machete until it is pointing in his face, death grip on the handle if he dared to take it, taunting him with the sharp end of your blade, “hands?”

That deep, rumbling sound of hooves approaches through the darkness, everyone slowly falling back into their paces as you welcome back your General with a forced smile.

Acacius hands off the reins to another rider, taking scope of the situation that seemed to be defusing in front of him, but still—he notices. His eyes trade glances between you both before he nods at you to follow him.

Speaking under his breath, “The others have coined you as fury,” He laughs softly at the pseudonym, “little fury, they tell me. Like the Furies. I cannot say I disagree with them. Has he been pestering you long?”

Your brow furrows at the reference, lost on your ill-informed mind.

“Long enough,” You answer honestly, “though, he was bestowed a parting gift this time.”

You raise your blade, his blood still painting the weapon.

He raises the curtain to his tent, allowing you to enter before him.

“Do you know nothing of the Furies?”

“I was not privy to bedtime tales, General.”

He nods, thoughtful as his lips pull together in a thin line, slowly removing his armor as he sits, directing for you to take a seat opposite of him, a few feet away on a decaying stump.

“Goddesses,” He states simply, “of vengeance, striking the wicked down. You have…fire, deep within you. Do not let them put it out, it is your weapon.”

You nod obediently, feeling the humidity stick to your skin, clothes glued to your body as you sit in the uncomfortable heat. There was no world in which you felt safe enough to strip down, quell your body of this unbearable summer weather. You would rather suffer, thick garb covering your body.

Acacius tilts his head, but does not comment.

“I require your protection tomorrow, we must scout an additional day and I fear danger is imminent—relay this to them,” He instructs, “and my lady, if you fear they will visit you at night, that they might strike when you’re vulnerable, you are welcome here.”

He already anticipates your response—he knows, but the gesture was an offer. A kindness.

“If they try, you will be searching for new men by sunrise, General.”

Acacius smirks in amusement, nodding to your words.

“It would not be difficult to replace them,” He notes, “though, little fury, you are irreplaceable.”

General Acacius wasn’t an easy man to protect, but you managed. Over the few weeks that you had taken point within his guard it has leant you plenty of opportunities to prove your worth, slaughtering opposing soldiers like cattle for the glory of Rome, his booming voice pronouncing vie victis as the dead are laid rest under fire and smoke.

But, conflict comes when you are faced with a decision as the camp was raided under complete, utter darkness. It was your shift to guard the General, perched outside of his tent with constant, roaming eyes. Eventually, you drift. It was peaceful, nature taking hold and pulling you under, awoken to the sound of blood curdling screams, the ground painted with the innards of both Acacius’ men and the others.

You were forced with a choice—defend the camp, something Acacius would have told you to do in a moment of desperation, a self-sacrificing man himself. Ironic, given your position, that you even think otherwise. Of course, your feet pull you toward him, whipping the flowing fabric of his tent door back.

There was a knife at his neck, a man towering over him. He’d snuck past—taken advantage of your exhaustion and your mistake was putting the General’s life at risk, his face stoic as he pushed back against the blade with his palm.

Without thinking, you rush toward the man, pulling back at his collar to plunge the knife pointed at Acacius into his own throat, a silent death through the notch of his neck, the blood flowing out like a river, tossing the lifeless man to the side before you’re reaching for your General.

“Do not worry,” He assures you as he rises, still groggy from sleep, “go—protect our camp.”

“But, General,” You plead, not realizing that your hand was grasping on his own, or that he had initiated the touch as a gentle push, a confirmation that he was truly alright, “it is my fault.”

His eyes peer behind you and to the man lying lifeless on the floor, blood pooling around his body.

“Though, it seems you have done your duty,” Acacius comments, head turned down as he stares at the body before his eyes peer up at you under his dark lashes, pensive, “now—kill them.”

You had lost a hundred or so men, nothing to the army of five thousand, but any loss was felt within General Acacius’ army—men of honor, with families or not, deserved a proper farewell.

Covered in the blood of many, some of your friends and some of strangers, hair matted and reeking of death, you approach General Acacius who was sending off a group of men to begin digging the mass grave to dispose of the bodies.

Your body ached, bruised and nicked from battle—you had killed at least five hundred men alone. Pure rage and fury, not a memory of it as you approached him now, a blank stare void of emotion that concerns Acacius, his hand reaching for your wrist as you begin to pass him, heading for your own tent to collapse in exhaustion.

“You did well,” He notes, catching your gaze as he turns his head to infiltrate your line of sight, “wash off before you turn in, you…reek. There’s a river beyond the bend—clean, warm.”

You nod despite only paying half-attention to his words, walking mindlessly toward the river before you are faced with the unfortunate crowd of men, undressed to their natural state, avoiding the watchful eyes and preying gazes, stripping your armor off down near the empty end of the river, pulling at your tangled hair, pulling off each remaining piece of clothing despite your body’s protest, screaming for relief.

It wasn’t unfamiliar, the looks—you bathed alongside all the men under the arena without a thought, knowing most of them were vying for freedom and wouldn’t dare risk it by allowing their cocks to work overtime, forgetting rational thought.

But, to them, you were a trophy. Someone—something, to be conquered.

The thin, flimsy undergarments come off last, stepping into the water and sinking down slowly. The blood washes away as you scrub, back turned as you dip your head into the water before committing entirely, plugging your nose as you dip underneath the water, finding peace in the silence.

“I had my doubts, Medusa,” A voice bellows from behind as you rise, your eyes peeling open with a quickly growing annoyance, “of you being a true woman, but—”

“Careful,” One of the men warned, a stable boy, “she will run to the general.”

It was the same man from many nights ago, big and brutish, always looking for a fight, even with the other men. He hadn’t learned his lesson, clearly.

“Acacius is busy,” He retorts, “so—what say you give us the show you owe us?”

You stand frozen in place, staring daggers at the man who seems only more amused as the anger in you builds, permeates.

(sa themes below: noncon touching, reader is naked in front of several men)

“Get out of the water,” He demands, “unless you prefer I come get you.”

You survey your choices, knowing that staying in the water wasn’t a safe option. They can and will wait you out. Your eyes track toward your clothes, further away than you had left them. Your eyes track the scar on his forearm and you smirk, teething peeking out behind your lips, “How beautiful,” You tell him, his eyes slowly following your own, “quite the scar, is it not? Fancy another?”

You spot the knife sheathed in his leather belt, taking your chances despite the vulnerability that remains with your naked frame on full display as you retreat from the water, he nods with confidence as you approach, a faint whistle in the distance that you’ve heard before. The oaf seems to ignore it, though. His large hand comes to your breast in an instant, body dripping wet and a sickness churning in your gut as the sticks of torch and fire approach amongst the murmuring crowd of men, less than subtle about the rowdiness that was ensuing.

He pulls you into his body with a greedy hunger as his opposite hands gropes at your backside, following the curve of your ass as your hand snakes toward the blade, but the voice that rips through the crowd is enough to wake the dead, silence falling over the area in an instant.

“Remove your hand,” Acacius voice travels, the same booming voice he uses to declare victory over a new territory, “or I will remove it myself.”

“General,” The man addressed in a drunkish manner, inviting, “she was offering—Medusa, tell him.”

Your silence is expected, his hand wandering toward your other breast, biting hard enough at the inside of your cheek that it draws blood—Acacius sees your hand wrapping around the blade and speaks again, approaches closer as the mud sticks to his boots, “I will tell you once more. Remove it.”

The man eyes you with disdain, dropping his hands away as you relinquish your hold of his weapon, allowing the breath caught in your chest to escape, but it doesn’t stop the touch that follows, taunting with its intention as his palm curls around the back of your head, tilting your head to the side as he squeezes, “I forget—you are the General’s property after all.”

(end of sa themes)

“Take him,” He orders the other lingering guards, men who’ve never shown you anything other than respect—they value their lives and limbs, as any sane person would, “and start the fire.”

Acacius looks around at the lingering eyes, “I suggest all of you return to camp. Now.”

That was all it took, most of them scrambling for their own clothes and armor as they retreated like scurrying mice or dogs with their tail between their legs, leaving you under Acacius' careful gaze. He reaches down to fetch you dirtied clothes, looking them over with disgust.

He removes the black cape around his shoulders without a word, opening it as an offering. Desperate to cover yourself, you slip your arms in the sleeves with his help, his eyes wandering no further than your face as you turn to him, tucking the cape around yourself. He reaches for the hood, pulling it down.

“Come,” He demands, “I would like you to witness.”

–

The screams are audible as you approach camp, a few feet behind Acacius as he rounds the fire and separates the crowd to create a path, approaching the man bound at his feet, one arm roped at his side and secured away, leaving him to fight the men that held him down.

“General, gen—general, I am sorry,” He pleads, “she—you do not understand, she taunts. She is poison, not a leader,” He continues, despite Acacius lack of response, making a motion with his hand to remove the man’s weapon and hand it to him, pulling it from it’s leather cover and examining the blade, he makes a soft sound to himself, “Acacius—you have known me for years. Do not let this woman trick you.”

“Gag him,” He ignores his pleading, leaning down to grip the hand of the man bound below, “your humility is amusing, but your greed is what is costing you. She has shown you mercy, but I will not.”

The cut isn’t a clean slice, either. It takes several swings before the limb detaches, blood spurting out of the appendage as the man screams in pain, dragged helplessly toward the fire before they’re cauterizing the wound—your body unreactive as you watch but silently stewing with frustration.

He had spared the man, sure. But, making a show of it? A mockery?

“Commander, with me,” General Acacius demands, waiting for you to snap back into reality, your eyes meeting his face, blood covering his armor and hands, somehow avoidant of most of the mess.

When you are alone, you don’t hold back.

“I would have handled him,” You tell him, “killed him myself.”

“This is not the arena, we do not go around slaughtering our men without reason,” Acacius retorts, “he will be demoted and replaced and be a reminder to the others that you—”

“I do not need you defending my honor, General.”

“Men will not change, this—society, it does not cater to your safety. To them, women are nothing but vanity and pleasure—”

“And property,” You remark, “lest you forget how you obtained me, General.”

Acacius approaches you near the table at the center of his tent, only a foot away as he removes his armor plate, pulling it over his head, “Had I not, you would have paid for your own freedom eventually. I needed a leader—strong, smart, powerful.”

“By punishing that man, you are sending the message that I need my battles fought for me,” You argue, “and as if these men did not already think I was the General’s plaything, what will they think now?”

Acacius sighs through his nose, pulling at the fabric of his tunic that bares his chest, “I believe they will behave,” He tells you, “because you will not be as kind when you take their heads. He was an example and a pain in my ass for years, he deserved more than that.”

“And what will they think of me now? I am naked under this cloak, your cloak. I must walk the path back to my tent surrounded by men deprived of the things your bestial minds crave.”

Acacius chuckles to himself, “I have been thinking,” He begins, “that you deserve a new name. Something indicative of all that you are. Some of the men award each other with monikers of war. Medusa seems to have become more of a taunt, in light of recent events.”

He unties the leather bands at his wrist, eyeing you with a mischievous gaze as he keeps you waiting, “Have you heard the tale of Minerva, my lady?”

It isn’t a surprise, but you shake your head.

“A goddess of many things—strategy, warfare, victory, and justice…but mostly importantly, wisdom. I have seen the way you command the battlefield, it is not lost on me.”

“You have…many stories, General.”

“My mother told me one every night as she tucked me, it seems they have stuck with me.”

Tell me more, the words linger in the back of your throat.

“I am barely standing, General. I must retire for the night.”

“Indeed,” He agrees, shamelessly stripping down to his undergarments to walk toward the clean bowl of water and wash away the drying blood, “and Minerva,” the name is completely foreign, but you respond with a hum, “your position is yours alone. You have earned it. Do not let them tell you otherwise.”

Like Medusa, the name sticks.

And thankfully, you were a few weeks away from a much-earned break from war, returning to Rome as a free woman for the first time, having finally fallen into a comfortable rhythm with the rest of his personal guards—a mutual respect that had been missing, men waiting for your command.

Long nights of planning spent in Acacius tent, surrounded by the other guards until they filter out one by one, growing curiosity and questions lead to many hours of conversation that you, for many months, had been deprived of in the arena.

“You did promise my return,” You remind him, “they will be expecting you to keep that.”

“They are young, fickle men,” Acacius berates with amusement, “I am sure they have moved on.”

“Do you fear them? The emperors?”

“They are spoiled brats,” Acacius responds, an answer in itself.

“They would visit me often,” You admit, “Caracalla seemed to be—it seems the syphilis in his loins was truly affecting his brains, often he would not even make sense. Or he would come to me, complaining of his brother.”

“You had built quite the rapor,” Acacius notes with a smile, sipping at the broth from his stew as he invites you to sit on his fancy, expensive bed cot. Much nicer than your own, cushioned and wrapped in velvet, “What of Geta?”

“He liked my breasts,” You begin bluntly, “and my—”

“He forced himself upon you?”

“I was property of Rome, Acacius,” You didn’t often say his name in such a relaxed way, blaming it on the full belly and exhaustion, “therefore I was his. I have suffered much worse than a lonely man searching for comfort.”

Acacius seems thoughtful, pensive as he stirs at his quickly diminishing stew. He does catch your lingering gaze on his face after a while, mesmerized by the scar underneath his eye, he encourages you.

“Ask, if you are so curious, my lady,” He places his bowl to the side, empty.

“Your scar,” You nod, pressing your finger in a mirroring way under your eye, “is there a story?”

“Nothing to be told with boast,” He chuckles, “a wound of battle, is all. Like many of the scars on my body,” He tells you, raising his naked forearm to display the various scars, noting the few that paint his clavicle, “and you, Minerva?”

It seems to have become a particular quirk of his, a lilt to his voice as he calls you by your given name—the others have become accustomed to it, too. But, with Acacius, it felt special. Treasured.

You raise your eyebrows at his question, quietly unlacing your top to pull it down your shoulder, sliding a hand over your breast to respect the dynamic between you both—him being your general and you, his subordinate. His eyes squint as he examines the jagged and staggered scar on the side of your breasts—not quite faded, healed but relatively fresh.

“He is a biter,” You warn him with amusement, “Geta.”

Only one scar, given by one of the emperors, somehow untouched from real battle. It was miraculous. You readjust your top, feeling the heat from your neck rise to your face at what you had just willingly offered over to Acacius. Unfortunately, he had a way of lowering your guard.

With that talk, it seemed like a true breakthrough in your partnership with Acacius.

He always allowed you to speak for yourself, never overstepping the boundary you had argued with him over, leading the charge with an iron fist and handling the younger, fresh faced soldiers who just seemed…lost.

It was hard to ignore the lingering glances over time, often during meetings as you spoke, not a look of attention but rather…ravishing. Hungry, but in a subdued manner. You weren’t sure where the lines had blurred, but they had.

Possibly somewhere within the long nights of conversation or the lingering touches that shouldn’t have been as charged as they were, handing over a piece of armor or blade and his calloused fingertips would circle your wrist, pause, before his brain would catch up to his actions.

“Go on,” He encourages after a final night of victory and triumph, many of the men howling and singing tunes around the fire, drinking from their cups and enjoying the pleasures of alcohol and comradery, “you are missing the fun,” He was unnaturally quiet, subdued to his quarters, leaning against the outside of his tent as he watched with amusement but subtle dismay.

A younger man approaches with his hand extended, a gleeful expression on his face, “Minerva, please—come, you must enjoy the party, too.”

The general gives you an expectant look as you let the young man lead you away, curling his fingers around your own and pulling you with vigor, cheering loudly to blend in with the energy of the men despite how you worry about the man several feet away, your eyes tracking his disappearing figure as he slips into his tent, eventually pulled away by another man, one of the guardsmen who adored you, asking for a dance.

You agree hesitantly as the crowd roars louder, eyes searching for the exact reason as you see a few men leading a line of women into camp, little clothing to allow them modesty, a less than subtle shushing come from the men as they lead them deeper into camp, and the fear in you tells you to run to the General.

“It is not what you think,” The young man tells you, “they are dancers—no harm will—”

You bypass him, straight toward the men leading the path, stopping them cold.

“They are not here against their will, my lady.” He assures you, though, that could be argued.

“Minerva, Acacius has made it clear that harming women, you—is far worse a crime than anything else. Truly, it is not what you believe it to be.”

“I am telling the General, informing him of their presence,” You admit, “so I suggest you and the rest of the cattle be on your best behavior?”

They both give crisp, curt nods.

As you make the direct line for Acacius’ tent, you are ignorant to his silent plea for privacy at the tied rope, intertwined with gold fabric, pushing apart the fabric doors without much of a thought, reality hitting you as you catch a glimpse of his naked frame, patting down his body with a clean cloth as he washed himself, other hand curved around his cock as he stretched his neck up and back, the water splashing as he dipped the towel into the basin, only aware of your present when you make a small, unrecognizable sound as a result of your own stupidity.

“I—General,” Your eyes widen as they take on a mind of their own, straight down the valley of his chest as he turns to you, quickly spinning on your heels, “I should have—I apologize, uh, the men…they are—”

“I was informed,” He assures, “and they have been warned, I assure you.”

“Yes, hm—um,” It was the only time Acacius had seen you flustered

“I assumed the rope was a clear message,” Acacius teases, “but—it is not your fault. I should have informed you of their…antics.”

He pulls the tight, fabric shorts over his hips, clearing his throat, peering over your shoulder you breathe a sigh of relief, “General, I would like to apologize for—” You swallow, watching as he turned barefoot on his heels, the fabric of the immodest undergarments curving around the stretch of his cock, half-hard under the fabric and the outline of thick head pushing against the linen.

You don’t realize how long you’re staring until he’s approaching with a tap of his finger on the underside of your chin, “There is no need for that,” He assures you, your nose scrunching up in confusion at the sudden touch, feeling the subtle shift as he reaches behind you for the clothes folded on the table at your backside, “surely you must return to the party,” He encourages, “celebrate a well-earned victory.”

“Why?” You counter, “When you will not.”

“Minerva,” He warns.

“You are distracted,” You note, watching as Acacius now avoids your gaze, “it is worrying me.”

He cannot admit the reason why. That it may be you.

“Acacius,” You call his name, hoping that will break through to him.

“Leave me,” He asks, rather than demanding, “I need to rest.”

It was a lie, but you do not fight him on it.

–

Silence blankets the camp in the early morning hours—the witching hours, as you’ve come to know them. Sleeping securely in your tent, bedroll tucked under your head as you drift. Unaware of the creeping men planning your untimely demise, assuring that the entire camp was asleep before they strike, arms and legs rendered useless as the third shoves a piece of cloth into your mouth and ties it around the back of your head, screams muffled behind the fabric, stripped of your weapons. Helpless, they think.

During the struggle, one of them grows frustrated, banging the hard rock against your skull and plunging you back into darkness.

When you come to, you are unclear of where you are, but it was outside, arms above your head against the thick limb, feet bound tight as well, a sting and a string of wetness running down the side of your face as your blurry vision becomes clear.

“Little Minerva,” the voice begins mockingly, all too familiar to your ears, “he has named you—you must feel special, ay?”

He kneels in front of you, the one hand he has left curling around the forearm of what was left of his other appendage, “And you expect to return back to Rome as a free woman,” He laughs, snorts wetly through his nose, “I assure you that will not happen. Rather, you will be a dead one.”

The other two lingering figures join in on the laughter.

“How did you say it?” He taunts, “I will gut you where you stand?”

“It took three of you to capture me,” You retort, “your confidence is lacking sorely.”

He clears the back of his throat, rearing up a ball of saliva in his mouth before he’s spitting at you.

“I will slaughter all of you with my hands,” You promise, “untie me, unless you are fearful.”

Driven by ego, it doesn’t take much for him to agree.

But, as he had underestimated you the first time, and the second, he would regret the third.

The two men come at you first, enough tussling and your teeth ripping into the ear of one of them, searching blindly for a thick, heavy and sharp edge branch that would handle the weight of piercing through skin and muscle, finding the right weapon at the perfect moment—the attacker rearing back as the other approached, driving the make-shift stake through his chest as the other tackled you to the ground, a poor miscalculation on his part as you get your legs around his neck, arms pinned at an painful, awkward ankle until his neck snaps from the force, the ox-like man awaiting in the shadows like a coward, blood spilling from your mouth as you scream.

The heavy hooves approach like roaring thunder and the instant your attacker catches on, his attempts to flee are ruined by the barricade of men at all angles, General Acacius at the head of the charge, a rageful expression on his face. Feral unlike you have ever seen.

He jumps off of his horse, ordering the men to capture the surviving man once again, looking around at the lifeless bodies beside you, assuring his men he would handle you and the mess, demanding they return to camp at once.

You look around aimlessly, blood staining your face as Acacius struggles to capture your attention, eventually resorting to a strong, demanding hold on your face, cradling your head with his hands.

“Are you wounded?” He asks, then notices the trail of blood from your scalp, pushing away the hair to reveal with gash from the rock they had attacked you with, grimacing as he runs his finger over the wound in worry.

Suddenly, you are stricken with a need, “Give me your sword,” You tell him, eyes flicking up to meet his own, “I need your sword.” His movements are too slow, still concerned with you that you reach for the weapon yourself.

Pulling away, you approach one of the dead men with the sword, swinging it up over your head and down with force, beheading him in one go, before switching to the other man, less finesse as you swing—again and again, until there is nothing but a pool of blood, bone, and brain—Acacius steps in eventually, tossing the sword away as he holds you arms in his fierce grip, letting the screams rip from your chest as he sways with you, eventually falling to your knees in exhaustion. He uses his bare hands to wipe the blood away from your neck, your face, feeling the soft shake of your body as you sob in silence, overcome with an emotion you so rarely let surface.

–

The public execution follows the next morning, everyone rousing from their tents to the loud, blaring horn from the ship just off shore—Acacius had assisted you back to camp on his horse, slumped against his back as you rode until the trampling finally stopped, sliding off the horse and into Acacius’ arms as he led you inside his tent.

He didn’t sleep the entire night, watching over you instead—he rarely blinked, staring off into nothingness as he tried to keep the vicious rage at bay, by morning, he was itching.

“You may stay,” He tells you, “your head—I cleaned it while you slept.”

You shove his hand away as he attempts to help you sit, slowly dressing yourself, eventually putting together the fact that Acacius had undressed and bathed you at some point throughout the night, not a speck of blood or spit remaining.

“Are you ordering me to stay?”

Acacius shakes his head, his hand still hovering close by.

“Then I will attend.”

He doesn’t argue against it and there is, despite your weariness to admit, a relief of your chest as Acacius rears back his blade, silencing the final scream the man lets out, pleading for his life. The blood sprays over his face, a strong grimace at the sheer strength it takes to behead the man, but the general manages it with one strike of his blade.

His speech follows, a deep and unsettling warning to all of his men. A final one.

Men, wide-eyed with fear, agree without resistance before he sends them off to ready the ship for departure and a meal before they begin their long trek back to Rome—he is less than gentle as he grabs your wrist without warning and pulls you alongside him, back to his tent.

–

He ties the rope with a stiff tug, before turning to you, stumbling on your feet as pull off his cape, having offered it to you for a second time, assuring that dressing in your usually armor wasn’t needed today, not as you began your travels, a flowing dress tied at your shoulder and waist that you were used to wearing during the showings back in Rome, parading you around like a prize.

“Acacius, perhaps you should sit,” You suggest, watching his hands curl into fists at his sides before he’s spinning on his heels and toward you, cradling your face like he had the night prior, but even this close, it felt like he was trying to keep you at a distance, “—I am sorry, if I did something—”

“I crave you,” Acacius admits, “you must know.”

Your lips part, gearing up the courage to speak, but falling short.

“Nights I have spent,” He breathes, shaking his head, the curls tickling your forehead as they meet, “thinking—wondering—”

“Acacius, why now?” You question him, “As we are homebound, back to your wife. Surely, she would have my head.”

Acacius shakes his head with a soft, but fond laugh.

“Our marriage is complex,” He explains, “Something I do not care to explain in great detail at this moment, you see—,” His hand curves around the side of your neck, tilting your head up, lips grazing against his own as he speaks, “I had no such intention for things to get like this, but you have proven to make things…difficult, for me,” He breathes out through his mouth, his eyes opening slowly to meet yours, “and I need you, should you have me.”

You could easily deny him, knowing he would back off in an instant. But, like this, clearly driven by adrenaline and instinct, riding the high of such a charged execution, he was craving something deeper than an outlet to release the built up tension.

He craved connection—through little moments of conversation and touches, someone at level-ground, an equal. You were his equal. He’d given you so much since, and you would be lying to yourself if you denied the thoughts that had riddled your mind too.

“I do not much prefer a soft touch,” You finally reply, “or gentle care.”

He silences you with a kiss, bruising and tense as he licks into your mouth, hungrily searching for more areas to taste and devour, licking along the column of your neck as the blood of another smeared into your skin, his fingers working quietly to undo your dress, in turn wrestling with his armor and clothes, nearly ripping the fabric of his shirt from his body as you claw at him.

Wet kisses and clashing tongues fill the silent room, a screeching sound as your back hits the roundtable before he’s lifting from the back of your thighs and scooting you onto the surface, naked and bare as he spreads your thighs apart to move between them, clearly restraining himself as he licks, teeth grazing carefully.

“I enjoy them,” You admit, “Do not hold back, Acacius. They are what I will keep with me, if this be the only time.”

Like a dog cut loose of his chain, his teeth sink into the breasts mirror the mark of the other, hissing as his teeth break through the skin just enough for the subtle trickling of blood to rise to the surface before he’s soothing the wound with his tongue, staring up at you through a half-lidded gaze, prowling for more. He dips lower, falling to his knees as he pulls you toward the end of the table, ass hanging near the edge as his teeth sink into your thigh, near the swell of your cunt as you moan, fingers digging into sweaty, matted curls.

“Acacius,” You plead breathily, “I want your mouth.”

Where—it did not matter. But, Acacius fulfills that need as he licks a broad strip through your cunt, nose buried in the coarse curls, still smelling of the fresh soap he had bathed you in, taking delicate care as he washed your body, letting you slump into him, soaking him in the process.

“Yes, that—” You respond airily, eyes fluttering shut as his tongue dips inside of you, swirling your slick around on his tongue and sucking harshly at your clit, staring up at you daringly from his position beneath you, unwavering, “oh, gods above…”

Acacius chuckles below you,the sound vibrating against your cunt as your moans increase rapidly, thick fingers dipping inside your pulsating core, “This high—it feels like—”

He rises to press a kiss against your stomach, climbing, tongue licking over your belly button and between your breasts, “—like…” He encourages, “come on, my lady, do not sell out on me now,”

“Like a battle high,” You admit with a faint laugh, “though, different, but….”

He understands, driven by unbridled need, uncapped adrenaline.

“Well, vae victis,” He taunts, “now—come here,” He squeezes at your hips and pulls you to him, his cock stiff, throbbing between your legs before he is twisting and spinning you around, feet planting against the ground as he bends you over, fisting himself tight as he rubs his thick cock head between your folds, watching as your wetness coats him, sinking into your fluttering hole with little resistance, a sweet cacophony of noises releasing from your throat as you grip onto nothing, hand curling into a fist as you moan, open-mouthed and shameless.

“Harder,” You beg, forcing the word out between thrusts, blunt fingernails clawing at your hips, attempting to pull you in closer despite your proximity, as if he could consume and even that wouldn’t be enough, “Acacius, please.”

It was like instinct, his hand sliding up the back of your thigh to lift your leg up, pinning it up—up, until you feel the ache in your sore muscles as he holds you in place with a fist between the bend of your knee, heaving breaths at your neck as he fucks you into the hard surface of the table.

It was a pain you would feel in your bones, that would carry with you into the morning, marks that would last for longer, a remnant of this moment, the mess of blood smearing on your own skin as he melts against you, forehead resting against your shoulder as his gaze follows the movement of his hips, slow but powered thrusts that drilled into you, clawing at his skin to leave your own bruises. The hand that brushes against your core is your ultimate demise, feeling breathless as your orgasm pulls you under, muffled sobs into your fist as you bite down, fearful that it might draw attention. Though, Acacius seems preoccupied, still.

His hand seeks your neck, digging in as he pulled you up, “To your knees,” He demands softly, your body moving out a memory, dropping to the floor—though, the sight is much more tantalizing, Acacius fisting his cock tight, feral as he teeth were bared, like a man fresh from the slaughter, he comes with a deep and guttural groan, your tongue sliding against the underside of his bulbous head, thick spurts coating your tongue, his body shaking as you pull away, swallowing all that he had offered with a steady, locked gaze. He assists you upright, steadying you.

“For a man who has such a distaste for unnecessary violence, you wear it well,” It wasn’t a compliment, rather an observation, his eyes tracking your naked frame, fingertips tracing the curves of your body in admiration.

“You are quite inspiring, Minerva,” He admits, gathering your thick dress and helping you redress in silence, tying the material around your body, “not everyone deserves mercy.”

Your smile is rare, but it is beautiful. And he wasn’t a man for such dramatics.

But, it could bring him to his knees, he thinks.

#general acacius #marcus acacius #marcus acacius x reader #marcus acacius x you #marcus acacius x y/n #general acacius x reader #general acacius x you #gladiator ii #gladiator ii fic #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal smut #my writing

968 notes · View notes

angel-of-the-moons · 1 year ago

Text

Chocolates vs Aliens Pt. 2

Symbrock x Pregnant!Reader

TW/CW: NSFW, SMUT, PiV sex, unprotected sex, fluff, pregnancy, childbirth, anxiety, mentioned somnophilia (consented), lactation kink(?), oral sex (f! receiving)

MINORS DNI I AM NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR CONTENT YOU CONSUME

Taglist: @yoink-a-doink @jayfall93 @being-worthy @theflamingraven

🍫🍫🍫🍫🍫🍫🍫🍫🍫🍫

Every day passed meant it was another day your baby girl grew, another kick, another day closer to being able to hold her in your arms and see her tiny face.

Of course, Eddie and Venom were excited, too. You guys moved fast, but everything came in stride, as if you were together for years. Despite the strange circumstances surrounding the three of you, you were content. Eddie and Venom treated the baby as if they fathered it, and you couldn't be happier. Even if you and Venom were in a constant battle for dominance when it came to chocolate. (Spoiler: you almost always won.)

You especially loved it when Venom cradled your belly. He did it at every available opportunity he could snag. Eddie meanwhile took care of a few more mundane things, splitting with Venom the duties of helping your changing body as your due date closed in on you.

Eddie would massage your feet and swollen ankles, while Venom's inky body would surround your midsection, taking the weight of the baby up off your hips, easing the strain on your back...

But your favorite day so far has to be today.

Because right now, you were currently watching Eddie and Venom snap at each other as they struggled to assemble the crib you ordered online.

No written directions were included, merely pictures of most of the crib already assembled; and the two already had to take it apart three times to start over.

"No, that part goes to that part and that one goes there!" Eddie snapped as the symbiote held a screwdriver and a piece of the railing in a long inky tendril.

Venom growled deeply, "WE ARE NEVER BUYING ANYTHING FROM IKEA EVER AGAIN!"

"No the fuck we are not." Eddie huffed. "We're better off buying furniture at a goddamn yard sale!"

You giggled from where you rocked on your reclining chair, your belly heavy and rounded out; effectively making you look like you swallowed a melon whole.

Eddie and Venom snap their heads to pout at you.

"What're you laughing at?" Eddie asked.

"Yeah, we'd like to see you try to put something like this together!" Venom snorted.

"Nah, I already have my hands full putting together something waaaay more intricate." You snort back, looking through the cozy baby clothes you'd bought yesterday.

New Years was approaching, and you knew full well you would be due around then, and your poor tiny baby would be absolutely freezing! So you took the preemptive and bought little newborn winter clothes for your girl, including a cute little fluffy teddy onesie with a hood that had cute little ears on it.

"Oh, yeah?" Venom asked, narrowing his eyes skeptically.

"Yep." You pat your tummy, and the skin shifts as a tiny foot kicks from within.

"...Okay yeah fair point." Eddie chuckled, shaking his head.

"Yeahhh, mommy wins again!" You grin, patting your belly once more, earning yet another eager kick as you imagine it to be a high-five.

"What, are you keeping score now?" Eddie sighs, pointing the screwdriver at you.

"Damn right I am." You grin. "Mommy points for the win!"

"And how many points do we have?" Venom inquired, tilting his head.

"Not enough to beat meeeee~"

Both of them snorted and shook their heads, before turning back to the task of assembling the frustrating crib that would soon, very soon, cradle your newborn daughter.

If Eddie or Venom ever put her down, that is.

🍫🍫🍫🍫🍫🍫🍫🍫🍫🍫

Christmas came and went in what felt like the blink of an eye. Your little celebration was small, and you even invited Mrs Chen over to join in on your festivities.

Which mostly consisted of pizza, a sandwich board, and chicken wings, plus a few homemade goodies that Ms Chen brought with her. Not the best meal idea, but it was a party, and damn those wings were good.

You and Venom even gifted Sonny and Cher a nice little seed treat you baked for them as a Christmas present for being "such good birdies".

Baking for chickens, now that was a first. But hearing their happy little clucks as Venom petted them and talked baby to them was absolutely adorable and worth the trouble. As were the large eggs afterwards!

Your mood swings had petered out about two or three months ago (you weren't sure, but Eddie insisted when you didn't break into tears watching a documentary about penguins) and unfortunately, well...

There are other symptoms of a pregnancy that you really thought you could stave off. You tried, you really did, but Venom having such heightened senses and being able to pick up on your scent and hormones? Oh, yeah. You were screwed.

Literally. In several different ways. You'd only had sex once or twice in a previous relationship, and with how disappointing that was, you definitely preferred to handle your urges yourself.

Where your ex-partner previously failed, Venom and Eddie were overachievers.

Taking great care with your belly and baby, they did whatever they could to ensure you were comfortable before making you so strung out your brain could barely form a coherent thought. Between Venom's tongue and Eddie's hands, you were a whimpering, trembling mess when the two would take you to bed.

Venom was especially ravenous in his sexual appetite. After learning more about sex and the pleasure it brought since bonding with Eddie... Where his host was a meal, you were a full-course desert that he would lose himself in.

Some nights, when he would climb through your window, he would immediately seek you out, drawn in by the lingering adrenaline from the hunt and the smell of you.

When you weren't moving about your apartment, Venom could find you in bed, sleeping fitfully. That was when he would crawl up under the blankets and find his way between your legs, not letting up until you woke up a panting mess.

Yeah, definitely the best way to be woken up, in your opinion. There were worse ways. Waaaay worse. Especially because your pregnancy-libido certainly wasn't complaining, the rush of endorphins afterwards would help outweigh the growing anxiety as the days passed.

Every day meant you were closer to your due date. Every day meant you were closer to experiencing possibly the worst pain you will ever feel in your life.

And there was the chance something could go wrong, that your baby could get stuck, or the umbilical cord could wrap around her, or she could be in a breech position...

You feel Eddie's hands gently encircle you, lazily draped over your shoulders as you sat in the shower chair, the warm water pattering over you two. It was New Year's Eve, and you two decided a calm, relaxing shower was a nice way to unwind before you poked your head out of your window to watch the fireworks people would inevitably launch to usher in the new year.

"Hey, sweets." He said to you softly, his thumbs brushing your collarbone softly. "We can feel your pulse jumping like crazy. You okay?"

"Huh? Oh, yeah, I just..." You sigh.

"Liar." Eddie chuckled, bringing his large hands to your shoulders to press his thumbs into your weak spots, making you shiver and drag out a soft noise from you.

"C'mon." He urged gently as he massaged you, sending delightful shivers down your back and to your toes and all the way back up again.

"You can tell us, sweets. You thinking about the delivery again?"

You deflate a little, the bliss of his skilled hands drifting away from your grasp as the weight of your baby's birth came back to your mind.

"...Yeah. I'm just... I'm so, so worried, Eddie." You say, feeling your lip begin to wobble.

"I've read so many horrible things online of how it could go wrong, and..."

Venom's head suddenly slinks around you until his strange body is stretched so he could look you in the eyes.

"But there's also good things." He rumbled. "You might have a quick birth, not having to go through it for hours or even days..."

"And hey, you might even be one of those ladies who sneezes and pop! The baby's out!" Eddie added in, making Venom groan.

You can help but chuckle at how absurd it sounded, and you knew Venom was inwardly cringing at such a naive suggestion.

"I doubt I'll be that lucky." You sigh, a smile finally gracing your soft lips.

"Hey! You never know!"

"Idiot." Venom huffed.

"Shithead." Eddie smirked.

You feel your anxieties settle a bit, at least for now.

Your hands trail over your belly, over the thin purple lines crossing your skin, your fingers gently caressing the rising and falling bumps as your baby shifted and rolled around inside your womb.

"...Willow." Venom suddenly said.

You and Eddie blinked and stared at him, brows raised and eyes large, a long silence filling the shower as the water ran over you.

"What?" You ask him.

"For a name. You're gonna be due any day now." He purred, leaning his face closer to your belly.

"Still haven't settled on one."

"Where did you hear that name, Vee?" Eddie asked, shock evident in his tone.

"In some TV show I flicked through when you two were asleep. I like it." He replied simply, pressing his muzzle to your belly, feeling the tiny feet and hands thrash out from within.

"Okay, as far as names go that's... actually a good one." Eddie murmured.

"...Willow." You repeat softly.

It was a beautiful name. And honestly... You liked it. You had yet to pick a name for yourself, indecision being your worst enemy your entire life made the process that much harder.

Picking a name was one of your fears, too. You wanted your daughter to have a wonderful one; one she could carry with pride, and the pressure you placed on yourself to pick the perfect one was what screwed you up on that.

But this name, the one Venom suggested felt... right.

"Yeah." You smile once again. "Yeah. Her name can be Willow."

Venom grinned a shark-like grin and nuzzled his face into your belly like a happy affectionate cat, purring like one, too.

"Well, I'm glad that's a weight off of you." Eddie chuckled, resuming his earlier massage into your shoulders, earning another blissful sigh from you.

Yeah... Things will work out. After all, as long as you had these two with you, you felt like you could handle anything.

You relaxed and leaned into Eddie's touch, a little whimper escaping you as his thumbs knead into a knot in your shoulders.

Venom grinned up at you, and you knew fell the glint in his eyes meant you were in trouble.

And you knew that Eddie had the same smirk.

"No point in hiding it, sweet thing." Venom growled lowly, his tongue laving out to taste the skin on your hip, tracing the stretch marks etched into your skin.

"We know what gets you going." Eddie said quietly, leaning in to whisper in your ear.

You shivered when Venom's tongue slithered lower, past the swell of your midsection and down to your twitching clit.

"It's n-not my fault..." You whined, your voice cut off by a breathy moan as you felt Venom's tongue squirm past your entrance and into your tight, gummy walls.

"Of course not." Eddie hummed, massaging your shoulders as you arched your spine as little as you could; Venom's inky body slinked around you, enveloping you and keeping you from slipping off the shower chair in the process while he proceeded to eat you out with voracious hunger.

Eddie hissed suddenly, his fingers halting in their ministrations to squeeze you softly.

"Eddie, what--" You panted.

But that's when you felt it. The water was getting cold.

"Maybe we should move this to the bed, hm?" Venom cackled.

🍫🍫🍫🍫🍫🍫🍫🍫🍫🍫

"Eddie, fuck..." You whimpered fingers gripping tight into your bedsheets as Eddie rutted his nose against your clit, his lips and tongue dancing through your soaked folds as his hands pawed at your hips, bringing you down closer every time you squirmed away.

As Eddie devoured you, part of Venom's mass was completely surrounding his cock, sucking and stroking in time with his tongue as it pushed and pulled against your weeping cunt.

It was too much, and not enough at the same time. As much as you wanted more, you also wanted to push him away because the sensations were beginning to become too much for you to handle.

Your eyes were rolled back into your head as you felt that blissful feeling begin roll into a roaring crescendo, threatening to overtake you and make your heart patter out of your lungs.

God, you wished your belly wasn't in the way so you could see what he looked like between your legs. One day, soon.

Or, well... At least once you were fully recovered after the birth. Which would probably be a while.

You were so lost in Eddie's mouth working you over that you didn't notice Venom leering at you, saliva dripping around his fangs as his eyes narrowed to barely-there slits, focused intently on your heaving breasts; both long since swollen and sensitive as your milk came in.

You certainly didn't notice the small beads of hazy white liquid beading up and threatening to roll down the soft mounds of flesh as your orgasm approached.

"Oh, fuck--" You gasped, weakly rolling your hips to meet Eddie's eager mouth.

For a split second, you hear Venom snarl softly, before all of a sudden his mouth was on you, latching onto your pebbled nipple, his tongue rolling and squeezing your breast to get out every drop of that sweet liquid he could.

"Fuck." Eddie groaned, pulling back to breathe heavily.

Venom made sure Eddie could taste your milk as he drank from you readily, the flavor coating his tongue and flooding his taste buds to combine with the sweet taste of your nectar that coated his face and chin.

It was an intoxicating combination.

Eddie's eyes rolled a bit as he dove back in, aggressively sucking and nipping at your clit, gently prodding your entrance with his fingers as Venom proceeded to try and drain your breasts of all their milk.

All at once, the combined feelings had your mind blacking out, every muscle tensing as you came; your teeth snagging your bottom lip between them and you made a loud moan, barely able to string their names out of your mouth as they helped you ride out your orgasm.

Eddie pulls his mouth away from you and rises to his knees while Venom pulls himself free (albeit reluctantly) of your breast, licking the stray rivulets of milk that had begun to run down the sides of your tits.

"So sweet, love." He purred, licking his chops. "But we need more."

Venom's head merged back into Eddie's body, his inky mass slinking down his arms until it was comfortably arching your hips and back off the bed while Eddie rutted his sensitive cock against your sensitive cunt, still fluttering and clenching around nothing as the remnants of your orgasm waned.

But every lazy stroke of his hips sent little bolts of lightning arcing through your nerves, stretching out the little aftershocks just a bit farther as he carefully slid his cock into your hungry cunt.

"Fucking tight." Eddie hissed through clenched teeth, his eyes pinching shut.

"Not gonna last long, sweets." He rasped.

Between Venom working his cock over and edging him while he ate you out, and how your silky wet heat enveloped him so wonderfully tight, he could already feel himself getting lost in your body.

"Eddie, please..." You keened, your fingers going to grip at his wrists, your nails digging into his skin with each plunge of his cock into your needy hole.

He was careful with you, trying not to jostle you (and the baby) too much as he fucked you.

You felt the pressure build up low in your belly once more, squeezing down and sending another tight feeling down your spine as you became hyper-aware of every vein in his cock as he glided in and out of your hole.

"Almost, baby, almost..." Eddie breathed, wriggling one of his wrists free so he could brace it in the pillow by your head to give himself a bit of leverage as he rocked his hips into yours.

He could feel his orgasm climbing fast; sweat dripping down his brow as your delicate hands slid over his shoulders. The way you bit your lip and locked eyes with him only drove him further into no man's land.

"Fuck." He moaned weakly, his pace stuttering and dragging out as he felt the first volley of cum shoot out of his sensitive tip.

He had enough control to pull out, rutting his hips over your belly as the rest of his cum shot over your swollen belly and twitching pussy, his cock once more rutting against you as he came hard.

Your teeth grit and your nails dug in as Eddie buried his face in the crook of your neck, panting hard into your damp skin as you feel a sensation you were almost familiar with burst low, a fresh burst of wetness gushing from you are the pressure on your lower spine builds and tingles.

"Oh, fuck." You swallow. "Eddie."

"Yeah?" He asks, pulling back to look down at you with an almost cocky smile on his face.

"I think my water broke."

He and Venom both immediately began to panic.

"WHAT?!"

🍫🍫🍫🍫🍫🍫🍫🍫🍫🍫

The scrambling to get to the hospital moved by you in a blur. One minute Eddie was hastily dressing you in one of your sundresses, slippers, and a pair of panties, the next you were carried like some sort of fairytale princess down to the car park.

Good luck getting an ambulance out to your place tonight...

Eddie and Venom bickered the whole time to your car, your hospital bag prepped and slung over Eddie's shoulder as he guided you down to your car.

They sat you in the passenger seat and helped you buckle in as the first set of contractions ripple through you. As the pain flashed, you couldn't help but be reminded by your earlier concerns.

You read that some women felt pain for days, or hours before their water broke. Why were you only feeling it now? Was that a bad thing? Was something wrong?

Fuck, you knew it would hurt, but... you weren't prepared for the sudden sharp stabbing. You expected it to start as a throb and build from there, not immediately start out like someone was hacking away at your lower half.

When you arrived at the hospital, Eddie had actually slipped and busted his ass on the freshly mopped floor in his haste to fetch you a wheelchair.

You would have laughed, if you hadn't been gripping the safety handle in the car, screaming as another sharp jolt stabbed through you.

A few nurses even chased him out, harping about how he could have a concussion from falling, but quieted when they saw what had him in such a frantic rush.

Your baby girl was coming, whether you were ready or not.

🍫🍫🍫🍫🍫🍫🍫🍫🍫🍫

It had been close to four hours, and you were almost ready to deliver; nearly fully dilated, as your obstetrician cheerfully announced, a smile so cheerful and calm you almost kicked her in the face.

She was less impressed with Eddie, however, as she pulled him out of the delivery room to talk.

"We'll be right back, luv." She assured you sweetly.

"Uh... Is--is everything okay? You were saying they were okay, and--" He blurted out nervously.

"No, no, she's fine." She assured him, pushing her glasses up her nose once more.

"Then what..."

"I couldn't help but notice how hesitant she was to tell me how she went into labor. But I have to know, did she fall? Injure her belly in any way?" She questions.

"No! No, god no." Eddie said, waving his hands and shaking his head. "Nothing like that!"

She crossed her arms and tapped her finger on her bicep, a thick brow quirking upwards on her freckled brow.

"...Were the two of you having sex?"

Fuck.

Shit.

Fuck fuck fuck.

FUCK.

"Uh... I, er..." Eddie put a hand on his hip and scratched the back of his head, casting a look into the room where you were read-faced and sweaty while the nurses wiped your face with a towel while your hands gripped the handles in the birthing chair you were seated in.

He blew a puff of air out of his cheeks.

God, he wanted to crawl into a hole and die. The embarrassment of the situation was too much for him, having this teeny tiny Irish woman stare him down.

"I'm not judging you." She says flatly, not letting him escape her microscopic gaze. "But I have to tell you that there is a reason we tell pregnant patients to avoid penetrative sex, or excessive sex this late into their third trimester. It can make them go into labor."

She clicked her tongue and sighed. "You're lucky that she was so close to her due date that the baby isn't in any real danger. But it was still reckless. Regardless if she consented or not, this sort of thing can be dangerous, you hear me?"

Eddie wilted, feeling very much like a puppy who got caught wee'ing on the carpet, shame and mortification filling every inch of his body. Even Venom felt this way, cringing internally at the truths the doctor spat at them as she gave her lecture.

Her rant was cut short when you made a sharp yelp, jerking and clutching at your belly and one of the nurses came rushing to the doorway.

"Doctor O'Halloran, she's ready. We can already feel the baby's head. Looks like this baby wants out now!" She said, absolutely calm and no concern in her voice. If anything, she sounded excited!

Eddie meanwhile was frantic as O'Halloran clicked her tongue again, checking her watch with an almost bored glance. "Huh. Look't that. Well! Let's get this baby out of her! Adjust the chair so she's a bit more comfortable."

She grinned at Eddie, "Well? C'mon, Papa! You better be in here to see your baby girl!"

He felt his heart surge and flop in his chest when she said that. It was finally settling in.

Papa.

Their baby. Their baby girl.

Eddie had scrambled to behind the chair, leaning forward to wrap his arms around you.

He was glad he had Venom to strengthen his body, because god, could he swear you had suddenly gained incredible super strength as you began to push, crying and screaming as your lungs were squeezed of air, the pain so blinding you had actually fainted for a few seconds, all while not losing your inhumanly tight grip on his hand.

You had shouted more obscenities than Eddie and Venom had ever heard you swear, in between crying and apologizing for saying them and fainting like a messed up cycle.

Doctor O'Halloran assured Eddie this was normal rather calmly as you came to yet again, just to cry and scream again as your body struggled to push the baby free of your birth canal.

The smell of blood immediately had Venom wanting to surge forth, despite knowing there was nothing he could do for you currently except support you from inside of Eddie as you endured the most painful struggle of your life and he bore witness to something he'd never seen with his own eyes.

The bringing of a life into the world.

It hurt the both of them, to see you hurting so badly as you strained to bring Willow out for the world to see. Thankfully, as Venom had hoped earlier in the night, your birth was going quickly.

Not painlessly, of course, oh no. Definitely not painless.

"The moment we get home, I'm bonding with her. I know I can do it." Venom whined within Eddie as you sobbed in pain. "I want to fix her. I don't want her to hurt anymore after this."

Eddie silently agreed, hoping you would consent to melding with the symbiote to heal the damages your body was going through to birth your baby.

They just wished that you didn't have--

All at once, your body went slack and your eyes shut, but before the boys could panic any further, a tiny, ear-piercing wail filled the room.

"A girl! A nice set of lungs on her!" O'Halloran laughed as she scooped up and handed the newborn off to the nurse. She knew that Eddie (and Venom of course) were too preoccupied between staring in awe at the squirming purple body the nurse held to focus on cutting the cord.

All they could think about was her.

She was here. In front of them. Finally.

Those tiny feet that kicked out at them all this time, the little head they could feel shift around in your belly...

The nurses adjusted the chair enough to allow you to lean back, and Eddie covered your face in kisses, waking you up again with a mad grin.

And, heaven fucking bless you; amazing, gorgeous, powerful you, you smiled back. A tired, watery smile as you cried in victory.

Giving birth and being birthed was the closest thing that someone could come to dying and still come out of it. Many were not so lucky, but they were glad you were among the majority that emerged from this bloody struggle with a smile on your face and mirth in your bloodshot eyes.

The nurses wiped your baby down a bit before pulling your gown down to place her squirming, hiccuping body onto your bare chest.

Your hands weakly went to cradle her warm body, kissing the top of her head where a patch of fuzzy hair was.

"Hey, sweetheart." You sniffled, whispering against the wet fuzz.

You could barely get words out as emotions surged out of you all at once, overwhelming your body and mind as you cradled your precious child.

Almost immediately as your voice washed over her, it was as if the angry baby instantly calmed. It was like your soft, happy sobs were a soothing balm to her squirming body.

Neither could tell who moved it first, but Eddie's hand went to cover yours, Willow looking positively teeny beneath his large hand, watching in awe as her tiny, fat little fingers clawed and groped at your chest.

The sounds of loud booms from outside filled your ears, making her jump and wail once more as you coo'd and murmured to your baby.

"Hey, Eddie?" You sniffled, looking up at him.

"Y... Yeah?" Eddie asked, his throat tight as tears began to build at the corners of his eyes.

You tipped your head and kissed his jaw, weak and tired.

"Happy new year."

You were only faintly aware of the nurses cheering; both the healthy baby you birthed and in celebration of the new year ahead of you.

🍫🍫🍫🍫🍫🍫🍫🍫🍫🍫

They kept you at the hospital for another two days after you gave birth. After passing the placenta and remaining viscera of the birth, your body felt like literal tons of strain had been lifted from you.

And of course you, at the same time, felt like you had been tackled unprotected by a professional linebacker.

So, of course as soon as Venom offered to ease your comfort and repair the damage you agreed. It would certainly save on the recovery time. Sure, it would be hard to explain during your next checkup, but you'd cross that bridge when you got to it.

Ms Chen had gone to the hospital, as she was practically the closest thing either of you had to a mother and she wanted to see the baby. She carried an armload of supplies with her, too. Including some kinda balm that frankly stunk of something akin to menthol, but whatever it did, it certainly eased the pain on your poor nethers.

And of course, she gave a shit-eating grin when you named her honorary grandma.

Even Eddie's ex, Anne, came with her fiancee to congratulate him and coo over the adorable little bundle he so proudly cradled in his strong arms.

He certainly had nurses swooning, but you knew their eyes were only for you. Especially after he cried some more when you wanted his name on her birth certificate.

Right now, you watched as Willow suckled on her cute pink pacifier that Anne had slipped down to the gift shop to buy while they were at the hospital.

She was dressed in a soft two-piece to ensure the remnants of the umbilical cord weren't too aggravated, her cute little face pinched as she grunted in her sleep, exhausted from feeding and content as you carefully swaddled her.

Eddie came up behind you as Venom's head emerged from his body, all three of you looking down as your newborn dreamt whatever dreams babies had. Probably about her next feeding time.

"She's so fucking cute." Eddie sighed dreamily.

"I know! And she's so chunky." You giggle. "I had a real meatball of a baby. No wonder I was so big."

"Nah, you're beautiful." Eddie chuckled, kissing the skin of your shoulder that had been exposed by your oversized T-shirt. One of his, for sure, but he didn't mind.

Venom purred in a near-silent content, before turning to look at Eddie with a shark-like grin, sending a thought telepathically for only him to hear.

The thought made Eddie choke and start to laugh as he buried his face in the crook of your neck.

"What? What's so funny, you ginormous dorks?" You snicker.

"Ah. Eh..." Eddie said, grinning widely. "...Vee says he calls dibs on the next one."

"Next one..?" You say, your brows furrowing.

"Yeah... the next one. He wants to be the one to knock you up next time."

"Oh, my god!" You gasped, spinning around to slap at Eddie's shoulder while he and Venom laughed. "You two are horrible! Have mercy on my poor body!"

Venom leaned in, nuzzling the pulse in your neck.

"We didn't hear a no..."

#venom x eddie #eddie x venom #eddie x venom x reader #eddie brock x venom x reader #eddie brock x you #eddie brock x reader #eddie brock x venom #venom x you #venom x reader #eddie x venom smut #symbrock x reader #symbrock

1K notes · View notes

fluentmoviequoter · 12 days ago

Text

The Memories Get to Kickin' In

Requested Here!

Pairing: Tim Bradford x fem!singer!reader (former cop)

Summary: Tim gets roped into going to a concert. He doesn't expect to have his heart broken during the first song, or to apologize to his ex-fiancée.

Warnings: r's stage name is OFCR, angst, breakups, lots of feelings, vulnerable Tim, fluff, Nyla and Angela, I changed the lyrics to 'Nobody Gets Me' by SZA and made up an album title/additional songs

Word Count: 3.2k+ words

Masterlist Directory | Tim Bradford Masterlist | Request Rules/Info

“Where’s your boot?” Angela asks Nolan.

He looks around quickly, frowning as he answers, “Uh, I know exactly where she is. Do you need her?”

“Yes, we do,” Nyla replies. “So maybe we should find her.”

“Who?” Lucy inquires.

“Celina,” Nolan says.

“Oh, she’s in the bullpen. She got a call or something right after roll call.”

Nolan, Angela, and Nyla follow Lucy to the bullpen. Celina paces back and forth with her phone outside the roll call room. She rubs her thumb against her lip before she slows to type.

“What are you doing?” Lucy asks as they approach her.

Celina startles but doesn’t look up from the screen as she answers, “I’m trying to get concert tickets.”

“This is not the time or place, Juarez,” Nolan chides.

“Wait, Nolan,” Nyla commands, raising her hand toward him. “We have lives outside of police work. What concert?”

“Uh, OFCR,” Celina answers carefully, flitting her eyes quickly between Nyla and her phone.

“Wait, tickets are on sale again?!” Angela exclaims, pulling her phone from her pocket.

“Second presale,” Celina explains. “If you’re on her email list, there’s a code to get in but there’s a waitlist and the site keeps reloading.”

“What’s the limit?” Lucy asks. “I’ll send you money right now to get me a ticket.”

“Five, I think,” Celina answers. “If I ever get through, I’ll get tickets for all of us.”

“Officer?” Nolan repeats.

“Yeah, but it’s o-f-c-r,” Lucy explains. “Bailey listens to her music; you’ve probably heard it.”

“This is the second sale for the LA show, but we couldn’t get tickets the first time,” Angela adds. “They sold out in like 90 seconds.”

“You guys talking about OFCR?” Aaron interjects.

“Yeah, we’re trying to get tickets,” Celina responds.

Aaron unlocks his phone and says, “I got it.”

“Don’t tell me you have a guy for concert tickets, five minutes,” Nyla deadpans.

“No. Well, I do, but I also know OFCR, we’ve been friends for years. How many tickets am I asking for?”

“Can I bring Bailey?” Nolan requests.

“Of course.”

“Then, six- seven if you want to go, Aaron,” Angela says.

“What is going on over here?” Tim demands.

“Eight it is,” Lucy announces with a smile. “Tim, you’re going to a concert with us.”

“Wasn’t a question, Bradford,” Nyla says before he can oppose.

“Alright,” Aaron says. “VIP tickets will be emailed within the hour. I’ll forward them to everybody.”

“VIP?” Celina repeats. “Aaron, you are the best!”

“Me, pssh,” he responds playfully.

“Can we get to work now?” Tim asks.

“Yes, yes,” Lucy answers.

“Bailey is going to be so excited,” Celina tells Nolan as they walk toward the shop.

“Thorsen, wait up,” Tim calls. He approaches Aaron and drops his voice to ask, “Wanna use my ticket for a date or something?”

“No, you’re going. I’m not getting on Nyla’s bad side again.”

“I don’t even know her music, Aaron. Or when the concert is, what if I have plans?”

“Start with Streets of LA, it’s the album she’s touring right now, and if you do, change them.”

“Nyla can’t protect you forever, Thorsen.”

“Yes, I can!” Nyla yells from her desk.

Tim hesitates but presses play on the album Thorsen mentioned. He flexes his fingers under the wrap protecting his knuckles, preparing to hit the heavy bag to clear his mind. When OFCR starts singing, however, Tim freezes. At first, Tim thinks maybe it's because the voice is impressive, but as he listens to the words and finds himself relating to them a bit too much, he turns the music off.

“I’m not going to that concert, Thorsen,” he grumbles as he shuffles his usual playlist and strikes the bag.

Tim asks Wade to be given desk duty the day of the concert so he doesn’t have to hear the others gushing about OFCR all day.

“No,” Wade answers immediately. “You have a job to do. Besides, the girl can sing.”

“It’s not about whether she has talent, it’s that I’d prefer to do my job without hearing speculation about what color her shoes will be.”

“Luna thinks blue,” Wade says with a smile.

“Oh, come on.”

“Have a good day, Bradford.”

When Tim finally gets home, he sighs and sags against the front door. However, someone knocks on the door before he can think about what he wants for dinner. He opens it and sees Angela and Nyla standing in matching shirts bearing the letters OFCR in a font that looks like painted roads.

“Let’s go,” Nyla demands.

“Maybe you should change first, actually,” Angela interjects. “Do you want help picking an outfit?”

“I am not your child, Lopez,” Tim snaps.

“Then stop acting like one, Timothy. You have two minutes to change, spray cologne, whatever it is you do.”

Tim considers arguing briefly, then nods and disappears down the hall. He dresses quickly, feeds Kojo and ensures he has water, then follows Nyla and Angela to the car.

“It’s a limo,” he realizes aloud.

“Oh, yeah, when Hollywood said they were great friends, he meant it,” Nyla muses.

“Apparently Lincoln helped her get in with a label and a producer buddy of his, and since she and Aaron are pretty close in age, he introduced them. They hit it off and have been friends ever since,” Angela adds.

“Is that why you listen to her music? Because of Thorsen?” Tim inquires.

“No,” Nyla says. “We listen to her music because it’s good.”

“And she sings about things we can relate to. She seems pretty amazing.”

“So did Charles Manson,” Tim grumbles as the driver pulls away from the curb.

From their VIP seats, they have a clear view of the stage without any screaming fans blocking the stage. Lucy records one of the songs performed by the opening act while Bailey, Nyla, Angela, and Celina talk about which songs they are most excited to hear OFCR perform.

“Nobody Gets Me is probably my favorite,” Bailey says.

“Oh, yes!” Celina agrees.

“So good,” Angela adds.

Aaron returns with a bag of OFCR merchandise and smiles. “Showtime.”

The lights dim, and the crowd silences. Tim watches, growing restless as he sits between Angela and Nyla like they think he’ll run. At the sound of OFCR’s voice, however, he’s frozen just as he had been in the gym, yet he still doesn’t understand why.

“Los Angeles!” you call into the microphone, looking out into the dark arena. “I need you to sing this first song with me.” The crowd roars, and you smile as you continue, “It’s about my ex-fiancé. He will not talk to me, so we’re gonna sing this for him. You ready, LA?”

The lights come up, and you stand in the oversized flower display the set designer built specially for this performance. It’s an inverted version of the last bouquet your ex got you, and it means nearly as much as the song.

“Took a long vacation, no uniform, just sandy. You kissed me, now we silent, Los Angeles was ours to rule then. So tired, screamin’, ‘What now?’ Love me, but I’m anythin’. Hurry now, baby, kiss me ‘fore the memories get to kickin’ in. It’s too late, I don’t wanna lose what’s left of you,” you sing, standing from the flower petals as the sold-out arena screams the lyrics with you.

Tim watches you from the VIP section to your right with no discernable expression. His breaths are uneven, but he can’t look away as his chest tightens, feeling as if his heart will rupture from the pressure. He suddenly understands why he related so much to the song he heard. Like this one, it was about him.

Angela and Nyla stand with Lucy to sing together. Tim only watches you, listening to every word you’re saying and wondering if knowing you felt this way would have changed what he did. What he’s still doing.

“How am I supposed to tell ya? I don’t wanna see you with anyone but me, Nobody gets me like you. How am I supposed to let you go? Only like myself when I’m with you. Nobody gets me, you do,” you sing with the crowd.

When you step away from the inverted bouquet, which Tim recognized the moment you became visible, Tim watches you. His lips pick up at the corner at the sight of you, but he knows.

“Took me out to ballpark, you proposed, I went on patrol, you was feelin’ guilty, so you left me, now I’m stuck dealin’ with a deadbeat,” you sing.

If Tim had any doubt left, that would have eliminated it. You’re not OFCR, the singer his friends love, you’re you, Tim Bradford’s ex-fiancée. The woman he would do anything for; the woman he left because he thought it was what was best for you. The woman he thinks about every night and the woman he now realizes isn’t a better police officer without him.

“If I’m real, I deserve less. If I was you, I wouldn’t take me back.”

At that line, Tim stands and pushes his way past Angela. He exits the arena, and though he can still hear you singing inside, it’s muffled, and Tim can breathe.

Aaron rushes out behind him and raises his arms as he asks, “What’s wrong?”

“It’s stuffy in there,” Tim lies.

“Sure,” Aaron agrees slowly. “Is that all?”

Tim narrows his eyes and says, “Yes.”

“Okay. Because I know her. But I’m guessing I don’t know her like you do.”

“You don’t know anything, Thorsen. Leave it alone.”

Aaron remains silent for a moment, then asks, “If you did something similar to the guy in the song, maybe listening to it can help you find a way to fix it.”

“Not everything can be fixed, Aaron. There won’t always be a rich friend ready to get you things you couldn’t get otherwise, there isn’t always a second chance, and people fall out of love. It’s the real world.”

“Despite what you think about me, I know the real world too well. And it has taught me that when it comes to doing the right thing, there are second chances, even if they aren’t exactly what you want them to be. Sometimes an apology doesn’t take things back to how they used to be, but it’s something. Come back whenever you’re ready.”

Tim doesn’t acknowledge Aaron, but deep down, he knows that he is right. If he can get through the concert, listen to your songs, maybe he can unblock your number and send you a text to apologize. And then you can both move on with your lives.

“I see your sign,” you call with a smile as Tim returns to his seat. “I’m going to sing it later, I promise. What I want to do right now, though, is tell you guys that half of the proceeds from our merchandise sales tonight are going back to Los Angeles. I’m sure some of you know that I was a police officer here for a while, and I still love LA, despite all the scars it gave me. So, what you buy tonight is helping this city. There are also some LA-specific items, which I already see some of you wearing, and 100% of those sales are going directly to the LA Police and Fire departments. So, thank you for all of your support, and let’s sing another song.”

At the end of the concert, Aaron tells the others that there’s a back exit they can use to bypass the crowds. As they follow him down a hallway, Angela, Nyla, Lucy, Bailey, and Celina talk about how amazing the show was and how great your second outfit looked on you.

“Did you decide to do something?” Aaron asks Tim under his breath.

Tim nods, and then Nolan asks everyone if their favorite song has changed after hearing so many live.

“Aaron!” you exclaim as you walk into the hallway from your dressing room. You hug him and say, “Thank you so much for coming.”

“Thanks for hooking us up,” Aaron replies. “You were amazing, as always.”

“You dad tell you to say that?” you joke. You realize that his friends are staring at you and wave as you say, “Hi. Thank you so much for coming, I hope you enjoyed it.”

“Enjoyed?” Angela repeats. “This was the best day of my life, and I have kids.”

“Agreed,” Nyla adds quickly.

“You are incredibly talented,” Celina compliments. “All of your music is so heartfelt and meaningful but also sounds great.”

“You’re all being way too nice to me,” you interrupt with a laugh. “And I am terrible at accepting compliments, so please stop. Are you all cops?”

“We are,” Nolan replies. “Mid-Wilshire.”

“I know it well.”

“I bet,” Aaron murmurs.

When you glance at him with your brows pinched, he cuts his eyes toward Tim, who is standing against the wall on the other side of the hall. Your eyes meet Tim’s, and you immediately look away.

“Hi,” you whisper, keeping your eyes down.

“Hey,” he replies softly.

“Well, guys,” Aaron says, clapping his hands together. “Let’s go. Tim, I’ll send a car for you.”

“Thorsen,” Tim warns.

“Can’t hear you,” Nyla interrupts. “We’re going. He’ll send a car.”

Angela nods at Tim, then pats his arm as she passes. Though Aaron is the only one who has an idea of what is happening between you and Tim, his friends can tell that he isn’t himself.

“I didn’t know you knew Aaron,” you say once you’re alone.

“Yeah, they, uh- they made me come,” Tim explains.

You scoff and say, “No one can make you do anything, Tim.”

“I didn’t know it was you. Didn’t know you were OFCR.”

“That I believe. Look, I’m sorry this is awkward, but you don’t have to stay, you can catch up to your friends and-“

“I’m sorry,” Tim interrupts. You look up at him, your expression shocked and confused but soft. It takes every bit of willpower Tim has not to reach out to you.

“Don’t,” you plead.

“I thought I was doing what was best for you,” he continues. “I thought breaking off the engagement would make you be a better cop, give you less to lose.”

“I lost you anyway,” you remind him, your voice breaking. You shake your head and look away from Tim as you add, “Tim, that hurt worse than anything else I’ve ever dealt with.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Stop apologizing. There- it’s over, and now you know who I am and that I wrote a bunch of songs about you because… because nobody gets me anymore and I couldn’t even talk to you about it.”

Tim remains silent momentarily, but then he pushes off the wall to be a few inches closer to you. “Why’d you leave the force?”

“Are you serious? How was I supposed to go to work every day knowing I would see you? The week after you left made me question everything. I couldn’t stand not knowing what would happen each day, and the idea of seeing you with someone else was more than I could handle. There wasn’t any reason to keep serving when I couldn’t even take care of myself.”

“I never intended for it to be like that.”

“But it was.”

You look at Tim with tears in your eyes, and he takes a step closer.

“I didn’t want to,” he admits. “You were… I thought I was a distraction, that if you weren’t worried about me and us that you’d be able to protect yourself and do your job.”

You nod, trying to understand.

“In the song, you said you deserve less. You don’t really believe that do you?” Tim inquires.

��I don’t know what I believe anymore. You hurt me Tim, and there are days where I don’t think I’ll ever get past it.”

“Can I say anything to make this better?”

“Are you happy?”

“I haven’t been happy since we left the Dodgers game and you had a ring on your finger,” Tim confesses.

“Why didn’t you just talk to me then? Why did you walk out of my life and then make sure I couldn’t get back in? I know you blocked me on everything because after I left I tried to talk to you.”

“I don’t know. At the time, it seemed like a clean break would be better for you.”

“All this talk about what’s best for me, but you never once stopped to ask yourself what I might want? I have never been happier than I was with you, and there is only one you.”

“I-“

“You should go. Aaron’s driver is probably waiting for you.”

You turn and walk to your dressing room, and Tim watches you go. He doesn’t reach out to you, doesn’t say your name or ask you to wait, he just lets you go again.

In your dressing room, you drop your head into your hands and let your tears fall. You expected the show to bring back some unpleasant feelings but seeing Tim Bradford brings back everything you’ve buried over the years, and the hurt feels fresh.

Someone knocks on your door, and you call, “Just a minute.”

“No,” Tim replies from the other side. “This can’t wait.”

You open the door slowly, and Tim doesn’t let you speak before he says, “You deserved more. I thought it was best for you, but I realize that I was wrong. Listening to you sing about what I put you through… broke my heart. I can’t leave you again with you thinking that I deserve more than you or that I don’t care about what I did. I’ve loved you since before I first told you.”

“Tim, please don’t do this,” you plead.

“Do you really believe that nobody gets you like I do?”

You tell yourself not to answer, but you nod regardless.

“Then let me show you I still do. One more chance, and if you want to walk away, I’ll let you.”

“We can’t just pick up where we left off, Tim, it doesn’t work like that.”

Tim raises his hand toward you, palm up, and you step toward him. When his hand meets your jaw, you sigh and pinch your eyes closed, pushing fresh tears down your cheeks.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers.

You smile and admit, “I never stopped loving you, either.”

“May I?”

“Kiss me.”

“Let the memories in,” Tim tells you. “We can do this, but not if we forget where we – I – messed up, we don’t stand a chance.”

“Tim, if you don’t kiss me, I’m going to start singing about how much I cried when I recorded these songs.”

Tim drops his hand from your face, but before you ask what’s wrong, he pulls a chain from under his shirt. It has your engagement ring band on it, and you lay your hand on his chest.

“And I thought I was sentimental,” you murmur.

“I have a lot to make up for,” Tim says before he brushes his lips against yours.

“Maybe we should just start over,” you suggest, wrapping your arms over his shoulders. “I could use a new muse to sing about.”

“As long as you don’t tell Aaron he was right.”

“I’m not done with my tour yet,” you remind him, pulling back.

Tim catches your arms before they fall to your sides and holds you close. “I’ll wait,” he promises. “As long as it takes.”

“I love you, Tim Bradford,” you murmur.

“You move fast,” he jokes before you shut him up with another kiss.

#tim bradford x reader #tim bradford fic #tim bradford the rookie #tim bradford imagine #tim bradford #tim bradford x y/n #tim bradford x fem!reader #tim bradford x you #fem!reader #requests #hanna writes✯#the rookie x reader #the rookie abc

139 notes · View notes

ryanmarshallryan · 4 months ago

Text

YARD SALE

VORETOBER SHORT VORE STORY DAY 29

Kyle saw his hot neighbor, Mike, was having a yard sale. Mike was sitting behind a little lemonade stand to help draw people in, adorning an open button up shirt, also probably to attract buyers. There was a little chalkboard with some options:

Lemonade - $1

Cookies - $2

Vore - Inquire Within

“What's that last option, there?” Kyle asked Mike.

Mike looked Kyle up and down appraisingly, “Serious inquiries only. I'll only perform the trick if you know what it means.”

“Ooh a trick, I wanna see!”

Mike rubbed his rumbling gut, “It's not about what you see, but about how it feels… and what you'll become.”

“Okay, well now you have to show me,” Kyle teased.

Mike shrugged. “As long as you're sure,” he said, picking up Kyle with both hands, tossing him into the air, opening his mouth wide, and swallowing him in one big gulp as he fell back down.

“Oh, what I'll become, I get it… hey toss me down a cookie before I become fat! And drink some lemonade, it's hot in here!”

“On the house,” Mike replied, rubbing his distended belly, “Or in the house I guess.”

Featuring hungrybellyguy @pure-pred as Mike the pred

#gayvore #male vore #m/m vore #gay fat vore #voretober

121 notes · View notes

morbidology · 5 months ago

Text

Few images capture the desperation and heartbreak of the Great Depression as starkly as the photograph known as "4 Children for Sale." Taken in 1948 by photographer Bettmann, the black-and-white image depicts four young children sitting on the steps of their home in Chicago, with a crude sign beside them that reads, "4 Children for Sale – Inquire Within."

The photograph portrays the four siblings – Lana, Rae, Milton, and Sue Chalifoux – whose mother, Lucille Chalifoux, was reportedly driven to the decision to sell her children due to severe financial distress. The children's father, Ray Chalifoux, was a coal truck driver struggling to find steady work, and the family faced eviction from their home. With few options left, Lucille and Ray made the heart-wrenching choice to put their children up for sale, hoping that they would find better lives with families who could afford to care for them.

The image quickly garnered widespread attention and became emblematic of the widespread suffering experienced by many during the Great Depression. Public reaction ranged from outrage to sympathy, as people grappled with the harsh realities that could lead parents to such a desperate act.

While there has been speculation that the photo might have been staged, the story behind it is true. All the children in the photograph, including the baby Lucille Chalifoux was pregnant with at the time, were indeed sold. One of the girls in the photo later revealed that she was sold for $2, which was used for bingo money. Others recounted being sold and then chained to a barn, forced to work as slave laborers on a farm.

#history #the great depression

173 notes · View notes

growthhyp · 14 days ago

Note

Hey I found this nice gold pen how much?

The Gold Pen

"Hey, I found this nice gold pen," you called out, your eyes lingering on the glint of metal amidst the clutter. The muscular man looked up from his work, his biceps flexing slightly as he raised a hand to wipe the sweat from his brow.

"How much?" you inquired, your voice betraying the excitement that bubbled within you. The pen was sleek and shiny, and you couldn't help but wonder if it was a rare find, something that could make your collection of writing instruments just a bit more interesting.

"Actually," the muscular man replied with a grin that made his eyes sparkle, "It's free. Take it."

Your heart skipped a beat as you reached out to take the pen. His fingers brushed against yours for a moment, and you couldn't help but feel the strength behind them. "Cool," you murmured, sliding the gold pen into your pocket. It felt heavier than you expected, the weight of it a comforting presence against your thigh. You continued to browse through the garage sale, your eyes occasionally darting back to the muscular man as you pretended to show interest in the random knickknacks scattered across the tables. In reality, you had no intention of buying anything else—you'd come solely to admire the man's physique, the kind of body you aspired to have, despite the countless hours you'd put in at the gym with little to show for it.

As you meandered through the aisles, you noticed his eyes on you. The smirk on his handsome face grew wider, his teeth flashing in the sun. You felt your cheeks flush and turned away, deciding that it was time to leave. You mumbled a quick "thanks" and began to make your way to the exit.

That evening, you found yourself in your bedroom. You collapsed onto your bed and pulled out your gym journal, flipping through the pages of your painstakingly detailed progress. For the past two weeks, you'd been pushing yourself harder than ever, but the scales hadn't budged as much as you'd hoped. The frustration was etched on your face as you scribbled your latest weight and measurements into the book. Your hand hovered over the page, the tip of the golden pen poised to make its mark.

"I don't know if I can do this anymore," you whispered to the empty room, the words echoing in your head. You thought back to the muscular man at the garage sale, his rippling muscles taunting you from afar. "How I wish I could look like a bodybuilder like that," you murmured, the envy thick in your voice. Before you could stop yourself, you wrote those very words into the journal. The moment the ink hit the paper, something peculiar happened. The pen grew even hotter, and your hand began to tingle, sending waves of heat up your arm.

In a sudden rush, your forearms began to swell. You stared in shock as the muscles grew larger and more defined, your skin stretching to accommodate the newfound bulk. You looked down at your hands and noticed that the one holding the pen was significantly larger than the other. Panic set in as you compared the two, and that's when you saw it—a streak of gold ink smudged on the page. You looked at your arms again, and sure enough, it's like someone has lathered a golden cream on your right forearm.

The pain grew more intense, moving up to your biceps. You let out a guttural grunt, the kind that came from deep within your chest. You could feel the muscle fibers stretching and multiplying, the ache becoming almost unbearable. But you couldn't look away, couldn't stop watching as your body transformed before your very eyes. The right bicep began to pulse and throb, the veins in your arms becoming more pronounced.

"What the fuck?" you gasped, your eyes wide with shock and awe as your body grew stronger, more powerful. Your shoulders widened, filling out your right sleeves shirt until the seams strained against your newfound size. The sensation was like nothing you'd ever felt before, a mix of agony and ecstasy that was impossible to ignore. You could almost feel your clothes ripping apart as your neck thickened and your chest swelled.

Your back muscles bulged and rippled, the gold ink seeping into your skin and leaving a trail of gleaming power in its wake. The pain grew more intense, but you found yourself pushing through it, eager to see how far this transformation would go. Your left arm began to match your right, the bicep inflating like a balloon until it mirrored the mountainous peak that had formed.

Your traps grew wide, pulling your shoulders back and making your neck seem even more defined. The gold ink spread to your chest, turning your pectorals into a sculpted plateau, the fibers of your muscles clearly visible through your skin. The discomfort grew, but you gritted your teeth, feeling the power surge through your body. The veins in your arms became more prominent.

You sit up, as the pain dropped down to your abdomen. "Huugh," you grunted, feeling your stomach muscles tighten as if they were being vacuum-sealed. You watched in amazement as your belly fat disappeared, replaced by a set of abs that seemed to be etched into your torso. Each abdominal muscle bulged one by one, the gold ink outlining them as if they were drawn by a master artist. The sensation was strange, almost ticklish, as your body reconfigured itself.

Your legs began to quiver, and you realized that the transformation wasn't stopping at your upper body. You felt your quads expand, stretching your shorts until they could hold no more. You looked down to see the material tearing away, revealing muscles that looked like they belonged to a professional bodybuilder. The gold ink flowed down your legs, turning them into a canvas of power, your calves bulging and your feet feeling as if they could crack the floorboards beneath you.

With a moan that was equal parts pain and pleasure, your cock grew, pushing against the fabric of your underwear, which struggled to contain your newfound size. The sensation was overwhelming, a mix of fear and arousal that had you frozen in place.

As you stood there, you felt the last of the gold ink seep into your skin, leaving a faint shimmer that made you feel like a living, breathing statue. Your eyes snapped open, and the room around you spun. You were no longer in your cramped bedroom but instead found yourself standing on a vast stage, bathed in the unforgiving glow of spotlights. The scent of sweat and tanning oil filled your nostrils as you looked down and saw that you were now wearing nothing but a pair of gold posing trunks, smeared with gold tanning cream that gleamed against your new body.

You flexed your arms, feeling the power surge through them as your biceps and triceps bulged in a perfect pose. The crowd roared, and you realized that you were in the middle of a bodybuilding competition. The golden ink has also rewritten your history, the years of painstaking work had paid off—you were now a contender, the envy of every man who'd ever picked up a weight. You felt a rush of confidence that you had never experienced before. The doubt and inadequacy that had plagued your mind for so long were gone, replaced by a fierce determination to claim victory.

#muscle growth stories #jockification #personality change #jock tf #male transformation #ai generated #nerd to jock

91 notes · View notes

peachiejeongin · 2 months ago

Text

Mall Madness | Han Jisung

Day 2 of the 12 Days of Staymas!

Synopsis: Christmas shopping with Han is anything but ordinary. What starts as a simple, practical trip to the mall quickly turns into a whirlwind of impulse purchases, holiday hijinks, and way too much Christmas spirit.

Pairing: bf!Han x reader

Genre: Fluff, Crack

Warnings: None!

Notice: Hello, my loves! Here is Day 2's fiction! If you missed Day 1, click the link above to read about making Christmas cookies with Felix :) Without further ado, enjoy the story!

You had no idea what possessed you to invite Han of all people to join you for Christmas shopping. Maybe it was his insistence of being a, "holiday genius," or the way his eyes sparkled when you mentioned the words, "Christmas sales." Whatever the reason, you found yourself at the entrance of the busiest mall in the city, clutching a list of carefully planned gifts.

You loved Han dearly, but you were already beginning to regret the decision.

"Okay, Ji," you said, holding up the meticulously organized checklist. "This is the plan: we hit these stores in this exact order, stick to the list, and avoid anything-"

"Not on sale," he finished for you with a mockingly serious tone. "Got it, boss."

"Sweet. Just no distractions, and absolutely no chaos."

"Chaos? With me? Never," he dragged out his tone sing songedly, causing you to shake your head.

You started your way to the Christmas decor store within the mall, planning on picking up a couple of items for your parents.

Yet, within five minutes, you were sprinting after Jisung in order to prevent him from buying a gigantic inflatable snowman.

"It's not on the list!" you hissed, tugging at his sleeve; he, on the other hand, was hugging the box like it was his long lost soulmate.

"Yeah, but think about how cool it would look in the dorm! I could put it in the living room, and-"

"And it's not even going to fit in the trunk of the car!" you argued.

Han sighed dramatically, setting the box down with a pout.

"Fine, but I'm still thinking about it." You rolled your eyes but grabbed his hand before he could wander off once more. You had now learned that letting Han loose in a mall was like letting a squirrel loose in an acorn emporium.

---

Things began to escalate when you hit the toy store. You needed to pick out gifts for your nieces, and Han took the mission incredibly seriously.

A bit too seriously, as a matter of fact.

"This doll is perfect," you beamed, holding up a sparkly princess doll.

"Yeah, but what if they like this better?" Han countered, holding up a robotic dinosaur.

"For a three-year old?" you questioned, raising an eyebrow.

Han ignored you, instead pressing a button on the dinosaur; it caused the toy to roar to life, letting out a mechanical screech so loud that a nearby toddler burst into tears.

"Oh no," Han whispered, panic flashing in his eyes. "Abort mission. Abort!" He shoved the dinosaur back onto the shelf and pulled you away from the aisle, whispering a frantic, "Go, go, go!" as the child's crying escalated.

You had barely made it into the next aisle before you both burst into uncontrollable fits of laughter.

---

"Let's take a break," you suggested after Jisung insisted on testing every scented candle in a home goods store; he had nearly set off your allergies with an overly strong apple spice one.

"Pretzels?" he suggested, eyes lighting up as if he had just won the lottery.

"Fine, but just one," you conceded.

Twenty minutes later, you were sitting on a food court booth with Han, who had somehow managed to come back with two pretzels, a tray of nachos, and a milkshake with two straws.

"Where did the nachos come from?" you inquired, stairing at the mountain of cheese and chips.

"They were calling to me," he stated solemnly, taking a huge bite out of his pretzel.

"Calling to you?"

"Yes! The spirit of Christmas spoke to me through this plate of cheesy goodness!" He nodded, completely serious.

"You're ridiculous," you laughed, shaking your head as you stole a chip off of the plate.

"And you love it!" he teased, leaning in closer to you with a cheeky grin.

You rolled your eyes, but you could not fight the urge to peck his cheek, ignoring the blush dusting your cheeks.

"Don't push your luck, Ji."

---

The highlight of the evening came when Han found an abandoned shopping cart in the parking garage.

"Oh no," you grimaced immediately, recognizing the mischevious dazzle in his eyes.

"Oh yes," he replied, already climbing into the cart.

"Ji, this is a horrible idea."

"Only if we don't commit!" he retaliated, giving you his best puppy-eyed expression. "Come on! Push me just for a little bit! For Christmas joy!"

You groaned but gave in, gripping the handle of the cart and giving it a cautious shove.

"Faster!" he yelled as if he were a child on a swing set.

You picked up the speed, laughing along with him as the cart zoomed down an empty stretch of pavement.

Until it hit a speedbump.

The cart tipped, Han tumbled out, and you both somehow ended up on the ground, howling with laughter as you tried to catch your breath.

---

By the time you finally made it back to the car, your shopping bags were filled with a mix of thoughtful gifts and completely unnecessary buys, such as the matching reindeer onesies Jisung had snuck in at the last second.

"You're impossible," you giggled as you buckled your seatbelt.

"Yet, here we are!" he exclaimed, flashing you a dazzling smile.

As the two of you pulled out of the parking lot, Han reached over and took your hand, lacing his fingers with yours.

"Today was awesome," he began softly. "I know was a bit much today, but it was exhilerating, truly."

You glanced at him, your heart melting at the sincerity in his tone.

"You're lucky I love you, Ji," you chuckled kindly, "or else I would have left you at the mall." He laughed, squeezing your hand tightly.

"Lucky for both of us then."

Despite the chaos, and your aching feet, you could not help but think that Christmas shopping with Han was exactly the kind of holiday magic you had not known you needed.

#stray kids #stray kids imagines #stray kids x reader #stray kids oneshots #bang chan #lee know #changbin #hyunjin #felix lee #seungmin #jeongin #stray kids fluff #han #han jisung #han jisung imagines #han jisung fluff #Han Jisung oneshots #han jisung x reader #12 days of staymas

84 notes · View notes

fafnir19 · 1 year ago

Text

The Gender Switch Experience

Linus sat on his stool in the laboratory, swirling a stirring rod idly in a beaker of bubbling pink liquid. Elias leaned against the adjacent bench, eyebrow raised in amusement. Linus sighed, setting the rod down. "I just don't get it, Elias. How do women work? Why can't I find a girlfriend?"

Elias chuckled, adjusting his glasses. "You know, Linus, sometimes intelligence can be intimidating for some people. Plus, you can be a bit too deep with your scientific explanation of the universe. You need to be a bit more approachable and light-hearted." Linus huffed, running a hand through his blonde buzz cut. "But isn't it frustrating? Women seem to go for these brainless muscle masses, like that arrogant Aron from sales.

It's like their brains shut down in the presence of biceps and a charming smile." Elias arched an eyebrow. "Are you jealous of Aron?" Linus blushed. "Of course not! It's just... frustrating. I wish I could understand them better. And on top of that, my parents keep pressuring me about grandchildren. I'm their only hope to carry on the family lineage. It's like the weight of the ancestry rests solely on my shoulders."

Suddenly, Elias's eyes lit up with an idea. "Wait a minute, Linus. Remember our research project? What if we use our machine on one of us to understand the female perspective better?" Linus blinked, intrigued. "You mean the gender switch device?" Elias nodded. "Yes! We've been on the verge of a breakthrough, and this could be the perfect opportunity for you to walk a mile in a woman's heels, metaphorically speaking." Linus's eyes widened with realization. "You really think this could help me understand women better?" Elias grinned. "Absolutely! Plus, it could be a fantastic test run for our breakthrough project. Think about it, Linus. You could become Lina for a while and experience the world through a new lens." Linus hesitated before nodding resolutely. "I'll do it." Elias clapped him on the back. "Great! We'll do it on Friday evening when no one is in the lab. We'll keep it a secret, just between us." Excitement and nervousness swirled inside Linus's mind. What would it be like to inhabit a different body, to see the world through a different set of eyes? He couldn't wait for Friday to come.

As the laboratory fell into a hushed silence, Linus positioned himself before the formidable transformation machine.

Nervously, he squared his shoulders, anticipation and trepidation intermingling within the depths of his being. Elias, his stalwart companion, stood poised to assist, his eyes alight with a fervent intellectual curiosity that mirrored Linus' own. "Do you truly wish to proceed with this, Linus?" Elias inquired, his voice tinged with a blend of caution and excitement. Linus met Elias' gaze, his own filled with unwavering determination. "I must understand, Elias. I must experience firsthand what it means to walk in a woman's shoes," he replied, his words resonating with resolute conviction. With a nod, Elias initiated the sequence, setting the transformative apparatus into motion. The contraption hummed to life, casting an otherworldly glow as it enveloped Linus in its embrace. Time seemed to stand still as an iridescent aura unfolded around him, bathing him in an ethereal luminescence. The air crackled with anticipation as Linus felt a strange, almost imperceptible tugging at the very essence of his being. His form contorted and shifted as the machine worked its mysterious alchemy, imbuing him with a profound sense of transformation. His heart quickened as he became increasingly aware of the subtle, yet undeniable rearrangement of his physicality. A surge of emotions coursed through him as he observed his chest swelling with newfound fullness, the contours of his physique assuming a delicate femininity. He gasped in astonishment as his once-familiar genitals underwent a profound metamorphosis, inverting and reforming into the embodiment of womanhood. A flurry of sensations, both exhilarating and disconcerting, washed over him, signaling the irrevocable completion of his transformation. Elias surveyed the scene with an analytical fervor, his eyes aglow with exhilaration. "It's working, Linus! You're becoming Lina!" he announced, a spark of triumph dancing in his gaze alongside a glimmer of incredulity. Indeed, the profound metamorphosis had come to fruition, and Linus had been reborn as Lina, her spirit pulsating with the complexities of her newfound identity.

With an unyielding resolve, Lina prepared to embark on a journey teeming with uncharted territory, her gaze alight with an insatiable curiosity. "Elias, I need to immerse myself in the world as a woman, to truly comprehend," she declared, her voice resonating with a fervent resolve. Acknowledging the weight of their audacious experiment, Elias met Lina's eye with a nod of acquiescence. "We must exercise caution, Lina. This is unexplored terrain, and we must tread with utmost care," he cautioned, cognizant of the gravity of their endeavors. As the evening unfolded and the initial shock of her newfound identity began to subside, Lina found herself filled with a sense of empowerment and curiosity. She wore a radiant smile as she thanked Elias profusely for his part in the experiment. "We should celebrate this momentous occasion, Lina," Elias suggested, his eyes gleaming with mischief. "Let's go out, have some fun, and truly experience life as a woman." Lina's eyes lit up with excitement at the prospect. "I'd love that! Let's make the most of this opportunity." Together, they ventured into the vibrant city, the evening air filled with an infectious energy. They found themselves in a lively bar, where the gentle clink of glasses and laughter mingled with the pulsating rhythm of music. Lina savored the feeling of newfound freedom and embraced the thrill of the unknown. As the night progressed, Elias and Lina indulged in a few cocktails, their lighthearted conversation punctuated by fits of laughter and the occasional insightful observation. It was a rare and cherished moment of unburdened joy, unmarred by the weight of responsibility and expectations. However, their carefree revelry was interrupted when a familiar presence entered the bar. Lina's heart skipped a beat as she caught sight of Aron, the very object of her frustration earlier.

She felt an urge to flee, but fear and defiance warred within her. Elias noticed Lina's unease and leaned in to whisper, "Let's leave, Lina. We can find another place to enjoy ourselves." Lina hesitated for a moment, then nodded her head with determination. "Yes, Elias. I want to dance. Let's go to a club." Elias raised an eyebrow, surprised at Lina's sudden resolve, but he acquiesced, understanding that she needed her space. In the pulsating ambiance of the club, Lina lost herself in the dance, her body moving with a fluid grace that she never knew she possessed. The music resounded in her veins, infusing her with a sense of unbridled liberation. Elias, on the other hand, felt out of place in the thumping rhythms of the club and approached Lina. "I think I've had enough," he said with a strained smile. "Do you want to head home?" Lina, intoxicated with her newfound freedom, shook her head. "I'm going to stay a little longer. You go ahead, Elias. I'll find my way back." Elias hesitated, his concern evident in his eyes, but he eventually relented, knowing that Lina needed this night of self-discovery. As Elias departed for the sidelines, Lina lost herself in the music, the vibrant allure of the night sweeping her into its enchanting embrace.

However, when an unexpected figure approached her amidst the dance, Lina's enthusiasm faltered. Aron materialized in the midst of the crowd, his confident strides carrying him closer to Lina with a charming smile playing on his lips.

Despite her initial reluctance, Lina found herself tentatively entertaining his approach, a strange sense of curiosity seizing her. "What's a vibrant beauty like you doing all alone on the dance floor?" Aron inquired, his blue eyes glimmering with a warmth that caught Lina off guard. Lina hesitated, caught in a curious dance of conflicting emotions. "I was planning to leave, but the music got the better of me. I couldn't resist the allure of the night." Aron's smile widened, the playful glint in his eyes stirring something unfamiliar within Lina. "I'm glad you stayed. Care to join me for a drink? I'd love to get to know you better." Lina's thoughts swirled in a tempest of uncertainty, her resistance slowly eroding in the face of Aron's undeniable charm. "I suppose one drink couldn't hurt," she acquiesced, allowing herself to be swept up in the enigmatic allure of the night. As the evening wore on, Lina found herself entangled in a captivating conversation with Aron, his charming manner casting an unexpected spell over her. The vibrant energy of the club intertwined with the heady allure of Aron's company, stirring sensations within Lina that she struggled to comprehend. Though she had harbored resentment towards Aron, Lina discovered a surprising charm and warmth in him as they conversed, his laughter infectious and his wit surprisingly disarming.

The night unfolded in a whirlwind of emotions, and before she could comprehend the gravity of her actions, she found herself in Aron's embrace, succumbing to an unexpected wave of desire. The next morning dawned with a disorienting haze of regret and bewilderment. Lina struggled to come to terms with her unexpected liaison with Aron, the weight of her actions settling heavily upon her.

Eventually, Lina reunited with Elias, the gender switch machine restoring her to her original form as Linus. However, amidst their joyous banter, Linus divulged the startling revelations brought about by his time as Lina. "Elias, you won't believe what happened," Linus confessed, his expression a concoction of incredulity and astonishment. "As Lina, I found myself overwhelmed by unfamiliar sensations, and I… I slept with Aron." Elias arched an eyebrow, amusement dancing in his eyes. "Well, well, well, Linus. It seems that Lina had quite the adventure. And with Aron, no less!" Linus scowled, his cheeks ablaze with embarrassment. "It was a mistake, Elias. I don't know what came over me." Elias chuckled, offering Linus a reassuring pat on the back. "Relax, my friend. It's all part of the grand expedition of life. And I must say, this will make for a fantastic story to tell."

As days turned into weeks following the experiment, Linus noticed a newfound vitality within himself, an inexplicable surge of energy and a fervent inclination towards physical activity. In a departure from his usual demeanor, he delved into rigorous physical exercise, his frame gradually gaining strength and definition. Elias observed Linus's remarkable metamorphosis with a mix of awe and curiosity, remarking on his friend's newfound dedication to fitness. "I must say, Linus, the change in your lifestyle is truly astounding. Your commitment to exercise knows no bounds. What ignited this newfound passion?" Linus, a sheen of sweat glistening on his brow, beamed with a newfound confidence. "I can't quite put my finger on it, Elias. It's as if this surge of vitality has engulfed me, propelling me to embrace physical activity like never before. I feel like a whole new person." Elias raised an eyebrow. "A whole new person, you say? Are you certain it's simply the result of amplified endorphins from exercise?" Linus chuckled, the resonating tones of his laughter carrying a semblance of unfamiliarity. "Sure thing, man!" In the following weeks, Linus's fervor for physical activity yielded undeniable results. His physique underwent a stunning transformation, his once slender frame honed into a chiseled form that exuded an air of confidence and vitality. Rumors of his newfound allure rippled through the research facility, prompting admiring glances from colleagues and an influx of attention from female acquaintances.

One fateful day at the gym, Linus found himself face-to-face with Aron, the very embodiment of the idealized image of masculine vitality that Linus had previously begrudged. The air buzzed with an unexpected tension as Aron regarded Linus with a glint of recognition and intrigue.

Aron's eyebrow quirked up in surprise as he studied Linus's physique. "Well, well, well, Linus. Look at you, morphing from a bespectacled scientist into a swole stud. Quite the metamorphosis, I must say. What's your secret?" Linus paused, acutely aware of the newfound strength that surged through his being. "It seems that I've stumbled upon a penchant for physical exertion, much to my own surprise. Perhaps I should be asking you for workout tips, Aron." Aron chuckled, a bemused smile tugging at his lips. "I must admit, the transformation suits you, Linus. Embracing the ways of the jocks, are we?" Their encounters at the gym became a regular occurrence, and soon, Linus found himself embarking on training sessions alongside Aron, their banter filled with a surprising sense of camaraderie. As they delved into rigorous workouts and exchanged jabs and jests, a bond of unexpected companionship began to burgeon between the once unlikely allies.

It was during one such training session that Aron inquired about a peculiar detail. "Say, Linus, I couldn't help but notice something. Your eyes are typically brown, yet they seem to be blue. Are you wearing contact lenses?" Linus furrowed his brow, a flicker of perplexity dancing in his gaze. "That's odd. I haven't donned any lenses, so this alteration is indeed perplexing."

Seeking answers, Linus approached Elias. In the dimly lit laboratory, Linus paced nervously as Elias fiddled with vials and beakers. "Elias, you have to help me figure this out," Linus implored, his brow furrowed in worry. "My eye color has changed, and I don't understand why. It's like I'm turning into someone else." Elias adjusted his glasses and peered at Linus intently. "Hmm, let's run some tests. We'll get to the bottom of this, Linus," he assured, his voice laced with determination.

With deft movements, Elias collected samples and scurried off to the lab equipment, his mind whirring with potential explanations. After a few days of anxious anticipation, Elias bustled back into the room holding a sheet of paper. "Linus, I have the results," Elias declared, his eyes ablaze with curiosity. "It's... unexpected." "Spit it out, Elias," Linus urged, his nerves on edge. He braced himself for the impending revelation. "According to the DNA test, it seems that Lina, well, she was... she was impregnated by Aron," Elias stuttered, his shock mirrored by Linus's gaping jaw. "Aron? But... but that's impossible! How could this have happened?" Linus spluttered, his mind swimming with disbelief. "And what does this mean for me?" Elias paused, choosing his words carefully. "It seems that transforming from Lina back to Linus triggered a fundamental change in you. Because the lack of a uterus has prevented you from growing a child, it appears that your own genetic makeup has been irrevocably altered.You, my friend, are now technically considered Aron's son," Elias explained, his voice tinged with uncertainty. "No, that can't be right," Linus protested, his fists clenching in denial. "I refuse to accept that I'm anything like him. I'm not his son." "It's common for offspring to resist acknowledging their similarities to their parents," Elias chuckled, attempting to lighten the heavy atmosphere. "But Linus, when we really think about it, you've taken on a lot of Aron's traits, haven't you?" Linus fell silent, his mind grappling with Elias's observation. He couldn't deny that over time, he had mirrored Aron's behavior, finding a newfound confidence that had eluded him before.

Unbeknownst to them, Aron had overheard snippets of their conversation and sauntered over, a smug smirk dancing on his lips. "What's all this fuss about genetic makeup?" he inquired with a curious glint in his eyes. Linus flinched at the sight of Aron, his newfound anxiety clashing with his unease. "It's nothing, really. Just some absurd test results that we're trying to make sense of," Linus replied hastily, attempting to brush off the seriousness of the situation. Aron folded his arms across his chest, casting a knowing smirk at Linus.

"So, does this mean that you're no longer part of your own family line?" he prodded mischievously. Linus squared his shoulders, determined to refute the assumption. "Children carry the genetic traits of both parents. I can't just be solely considered like you," he asserted, his voice wavering with uncertainty. Elias shifted awkwardly, the weight of the revelation sitting heavily on his shoulders. "Well, the test results did show that about 90% of your genetic makeup is now paralleled with Aron's, with only 10% retaining aspects of your old self," Elias confessed, unable to meet Linus' gaze. Aron raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. "Does this mean that Linus' family line has now been wiped out - he is an only child?" he asked mischievously, his eyes glinting with mischief. Silence enveloped the room as Linus struggled to grapple with the enormity of the truth. How could he come to terms with the fact that he was more akin to Aron than himself and that his ancestral line has been vanquished?

Aron clapped Linus on the back, his expression brimming with amusement, "Look at that, you're one of the cool kids now, Linus! Embrace the change, buddy." "This is absurd," Linus muttered, feeling overwhelmed by the sudden turn of events. Over the next few months, Linus noticed a change within himself. His once-keen intellect seemed to wane, and he found himself drawn to activities he had never before considered. Linus clasped his hands and stared into the distance, "I never used to enjoy sports or casual conversations. What's happening to me?"

Elias patted Linus on the back, a tinge of sadness in his eyes, "It seems the transformation has altered more than just your physical appearance, Linus. Your interests, your behavior, they're all shifting." Linus shook his head, unable to comprehend the magnitude of the changes taking place within him. "I don't want to be like Aron," he muttered, despondent. As days turned by, Linus found himself a sudden desire to be more outgoing and social gnawing at him. "I never thought I'd say this, but Aron has become my best friend," Linus admitted to Elias, a sense of bewilderment lacing his words. Elias sighed, "It seems like you're embracing more and more of Aron's traits with each passing day, Linus. It's like he's become your role model."

In the nine months that followed, the change in Linus was palpable. His once razor-sharp intellect dulled, morphing into a shadow of its former self. No longer was he the dedicated scientist engrossed in groundbreaking research, but a husk of a man, devoid of his former brilliance. It was a bright Monday morning when Linus trudged his way into the sales department, a world away from his beloved science department. He was greeted with slaps on the back and hearty cheers from his new colleagues, among them, the suave and charming Aron. "Hey, Linus! Look at you, all dapper and ready to conquer the sales world!" Aron exclaimed with a roguish grin. Linus barely managed a dim smile in return, his once keen eyes now glazed over with vacant emptiness. His transformation was complete, and Elias could only watch in despair as his best friend slipped further and further away from him.

As the months went by, Linus' days revolved around sales pitches and closing deals. Gone were the days of intellectual pursuits, replaced by the pursuit of fleeting pleasures and hedonistic indulgences.

As Linus strolled into the sales department, a noticeable swagger in his step and a twinkle in his eyes, Elias glanced at him with a mixture of disbelief and resignation. "Linus, what in the world has gotten into you?" Elias asked, his brow furrowed in concern. "Hey, bro, check out my new watch. It totally seals the deal with the ladies," Linus drawled, flashing a blingy timepiece that gleamed under the fluorescent lights.

Elias's mouth gaped open. "Linus, you were a prodigy in the science department. A budding genius. And now look at you. What happened?" Linus chuckled smugly. "Who needs all that nerdy stuff when you've got charm, huh? Aron showed me the way. Now I'm living the dream, man." He slapped Elias on the back with a booming laugh, his once soft voice now laced with a newfound bravado. Elias's eyes widened as he watched Linus saunter over to the water cooler, surrounded by a flock of female co-workers hanging on his every word. Elias, torn between disbelief and resignation, approached the boss of the sales department, hoping for a glimmer of some solidarity. "He's dumb as a rock but knows how to use his good looks for successful sales. I guess, you should produce more of them, Elias," the boss remarked casually, not a hint of recognition for the man Linus used to be. In a moment of resignation, Elias turned to Linus, his once-friend, now a mere shell of his former self. "Linus, I need your help with something," Elias began, the weight of his words heavy on his chest. "I need a sample of your...cum." Linus, now devoid of his former depth, chuckled thoughtlessly. "Sure, man. Anything for you," he replied with a vacant look in his eyes, his once keen mind reduced to nothing but a mindless echo of Aron's.

And so, Linus and Elias drifted apart, their once unbreakable bond shattered by the cruel twist of fate. What was once a story of scientific discovery and friendship had now morphed into a tragic tale of lost intellect and shattered dreams.

#male tf #male transformation #personality change #tg tf #male to female #dumber tf #mad science #nerd to jock

198 notes · View notes

theredtours · 2 months ago

Text

MASSIVE TAYLOR SWIFT CD SALE! INCLUDES NEW ITEMS

Hello, and happy holidays! I'm Chloe, a big Swiftie, and even bigger CD collector. I've been collecting for the better part of thirteen (!!) years now, and in that time, have managed to end up with a... few... duplicates in my hoard. It's time that those repeats go to new Swiftie homes, where they will hopefully bring as much joy to you as they once did to me, and what better time than right before the holidays? So before I post everything (which will be under the cut) I just kind of want to give an overview of how this will work. A sort of FAQ, if you will.

1. To claim an item, you will need to message me. And yes, I do mean mean "message," not "ask." This way ensures not only that Tumblr won't eat your request, as it loves to eat inbox mail, but also so that I can then have a conversation with you about where to send the item(s). 2. I will only accept Venmo/PayPal as forms of payment. Venmo is the preferred method, because they don't charge any sort of fees, but I am aware that Venmo is not available internationally, and PayPal is the safest alternative. Shipping for one single item across the US is about $5, so that's all I'll ask for it. 3. I will ship internationally, but you must prepare for delayed delivery. Since it is the holiday season, I cannot guarantee that anything sent overseas will arrive before Christmas. Please keep this in mind before ordering. Furthermore, in this case, I will ask for the cost of postage in a second payment, and then will provide you with a tracking number in return. 4. If you are buying more than one item, I will combine shipping. Because I cannot possibly guess the cost of shipping for multiple items, I will send a second invoice for the cost of shipping, along with a tracking number for your package. 5. No returns/refunds are allowed. All sales are final, as the whole idea behind this is for me to lighten the load. I have multiple pictures of each item (most of which will not be posted here to avoid making this post even longer), and will send them your way upon request.

Items will be marked as SOLD as they are purchased, so make sure you are checking the post on my blog and not just via reblogs before inquiring! All purchases will be mailed out within three business days of receiving payment. I will also message you to let you know exactly when they go out!

Thank you for taking the time to read this; merry Swiftmas!!

ITEMS FOR SALE

Taylor Swift (Promo Version) SOLD

Beautiful Eyes EP (Walmart Exclusive) SOLD

Fearless Platinum Edition (Target Exclusive) - $25 - TWO AVAILABLE This version of the album comes with additional DVD content--specifically, it's two of the songs she performed at Clear Channel Stripped! The case has some minor cracks and the "sticker" is just a reprint for identification purposes, but both discs and all inserts are in really good condition! The second copy is basically identical, but I can send pictures if you're interested in seeing it specifically.

Speak Now (Starbucks Exclusive) - $30 Nothing on the CD is different from other US versions of this album, but this one, sold exclusively at Starbucks back in the day, comes with a fancy "O-ring" slipcover! Not many were made, so it's considered to be on the rarer side.

Speak Now (Walmart Exclusive) - $15 This version was sold exclusively to Walmart and contained a cute little coupon for Covergirl products! Unfortunately, this copy did not come with the insert, which is why I'm selling it off. The only notable differences between it and any other standard copy of Speak Now are the catalogue number and UPC. All the songs are the same.

Red SOLD

Red (Starbucks Exclusive) - $30 This Starbucks exclusive "digipak" version of Red folds in the middle, much like a vinyl record! It does have a small fold in the cover (see the first photo), but the CD and booklet are in perfect condition. This copy was sent to me with the second disc from the Target version of Red, so it will also be included with this purchase. You're basically getting the deluxe version in a cool, rare case haha. :)

Red (Costco Exclusive) - $30 Yes, there are a few minor case cracks on the front side (thanks, kitties), but the album is still sealed and comes with its insert! What sets this rare version aside from its peers is the hype sticker on the front, and the inclusion of a flyer that, while no longer valid, once allowed you to download 3 additional Taylor Swift songs for free!

Red (Deluxe Edition) (Target Exclusive) SOLD folklore: "meet me behind the mall" edition - $15 This version was sold exclusively on Taylor's website! Though it's no different than the one you can get at Target content-wise, it does have a different catalogue number and UPC, so if you're into that sort of thing, this is a steal. Plus, it's brand new!

folklore: "in the weeds" edition - $20 I'm only charging a little extra for this one for two reasons. One, it is a little more sought-after, so if it doesn't sell here, it's going to eBay. Two, it's the EU version (which means nothing content-wise, just catalogue number and UPC-wise), so it cost a little more to get it to me. This one also was a website exclusive, and it's sealed!

TTPD: Down Bad (Acoustic Version) - $10 Back in June, this was one of two versions of TTPD posted exclusively to Taylor's website. My post office lost my order, so I ended up contacting the store to get a new one sent out. Months later, the package mysteriously arrives! Here's your chance to own that surprise CD!

TTPD: Guilty as Sin? (Acoustic Version) - $10 This CD was also part of the lost package! It too likely has mysterious teleportation powers*, and for the fine price of ten bucks, could also magically show up at your house soon! *This statement has not been proven as fact by the author.

TTPD: The Manuscript (Collector's Edition) - $30 This one was sent to me by mistake when ordering another item from the webstore. They let me keep it, but I don't need it. Again, their loss is your gain! It's also sealed!

More to come in the following days as I downsize, but this is a good place to start, yeah? Please reblog so this reaches as many genuine Swifties as possible! Thank you in advance!!

#taylor swift #ttpd #swiftmas #cd #eras tour #(it's not really eras tour but I know tumblr only uses the first five tags to get the word out and 'eras tour' is a popular tag right now)#personal #text

40 notes · View notes

museincarnate · 5 months ago

Text

THE END OF PEACE...

(The beginning of a grand story, told by museincarnate and @dragvnsovl)

Approximately a year after two Saiyans, Shuen and Torno, had managed to prevent the end of all of existence, at the hands of an ancient being called Svandur, peace had become somewhat commonplace, in the universe of Sol-Lago. A point of origin for the Paradox and Mighty Saiyan, the majority of their lives had been spent battling with one another; leaving them unaware of the universe around them. With a newfound, lasting peace, the duo took it upon themselves to explore their own universe, studying its vastness, and the beings that inhabited it.

However, briefly after their imprisoning of Svandur within the Eternal Hourglass, which once housed Kronus, who fused himself with Svandur to allow existence itself to be saved, the duo of Shuen and Torno had met a Lagomorph woman named Tater, and a Luparian named Tazz, who both quickly became essential parts of their lives, in their own ways; the former traveling with Torno and Shuen, on their researching expeditions across Sol-Lago, while the latter had taken to the company of Hakkona and Yujin: Torno's daughter and Shuen's son, who had both amicably ended their relationship with each other, after they had their second child together.

During one of Shuen, Torno and Tater's expeditions, Hakkona and Tazz had made plans to go to the mall together, while Yujin stayed home to take care of his daughter, Aitez; the two women having meant to go shopping together, but not managing to, partly due to how often small, criminal activities earned their attention, to be settled. Arriving to the mall, the Saiyaness had already managed to spot a sign near the entrance of one of the clothing stores on the upper floor, and quickly pointed up at it, so that the Luparian could see it, too!

"Tazz! They have a sale going on! I heard the clothes you can get there are pretty cute, and even compliment physiques like ours!" Obviously making a friendly compliment towards Tazz, the Buff Gal was moreso excited about apparel that fit her and Tazz's remarkable, muscular frames, while she'd already begun heading towards the escalator that connected the lower and upper floors to each other. "Come on, we have so many places to check out!" The Saiyaness's tail would seem to sway about rather giddily from the moment the duo entered the mall through its automatic doors, while Hakkona had to keep herself from excitedly taking the Luparian's hand.

Entering a mere few moments after the two women, however...

A hooded figure, with his face obscured from anyone's immediate view, kept his gaze locked upon them, while he'd trailed them since before they'd even reached the shopping center's doors. Pocketed hands kept most of his features further hidden from the wandering eyes of anyone around him, as he kept his movements and distance deliberately inconspicuous. The sway of the Saiyan woman's tail would draw further focus from the unidentified figure, as she and her wolf-like friend began their ascent of the moving stairs to the next floor; leaving him to wait until they'd reached closer to the upper floor, to step onto the contraption himself, and follow them even more.

Unaware of anyone near them, however, Hakkona would keep giddily ushering her Luparian gal pal towards the store, while she'd already started eyeing up a few clothing items that she thought would look nice on Tazz; hoping that she had a good understanding of her best friend's taste in fashion. When approached by an employee, and inquired about needing any assistance, however, the Buff Gal, for her sheer size and intimidating appearance... Clammed up; her cheeks turning pink, as she shook her head awkwardly. "U-Uh... Not at the moment, n-no! U-Unless you need something, Tazz?" Glancing at Tazz, Hakkona was practically begging her to help her escape the interaction, since she was rather socially shy, with strangers.

Offside, outside of the store, the hooded figure's pocketed hands had balled themselves into slight fists, as he walked away from the proximity of the two women; remaining, however, within a range that he could still see them, while he acted as though he was looking at other stores.

#{luparian legacy; tazz}#{dragvnsovl}#{the example; hakkona}#{the embers of fate}#{the end of peace}#//IT HAS BEGUN!

101 notes · View notes

slutsukio · 1 year ago

Text

sativa. ( weedman!suguru x blk!femreader )

the unmistakable sensation of approaching the tinted windows of suguru's sleek, wide bodied black hellcat filled the air with anticipation. the low hum of the powerful engine hinted at the potency that lay within, a parallel to suguru's enigmatic persona.

as you reached the car, the subdued glow of the streetlights illuminated the graffiti covered walls of the cladestine spot suguru always sold at. you walked closer and closer to the drivers windows, and he rolled it down, greeting you with a lazy smile, exhaling a leisurely puff of smoke from his blunt. the interior if his car was foggy and smokey, and you knew he was smoking for a while before you even came.

"well, well, look who's back," he drawled, the wry smile playing on his lips echoing the mystique that surrounded him. it was your first visit back to him, after almost two months. back in your sophomore year of college, you were a die-hard pothead. you'd visit him three to four times a week, and the routine had become a familiar dance back then. but, one thing turned into another and he'd always end up fuckin' up your pretty little pussy, echoed moans would bounce off of your dormitory walls, letting everyone know you were his.

but, thats besides the point because you came to get what you wanted. "why you make it so complicated, suguru?" you asked, followed by a nonchalant eye-roll. you casually leaned inside the open window of his sleek car, your slender fingers deftly navigating the crevices to retrieve the blunt out of his muscular fingers.

bringing the well-rolled blunt to her glossy lips, you took a languid and deliberate inhale, relishing the rich and smokey goodness that enveloped her senses, creating a sensory tapestry of delight. savoring the moment as if time slowed down, you held the intoxicating essence within your system, before finally exhaling a plume of smoke, watching it lazily dissipate into the air, leaving a transient and ethereal trace of your indulgence lingering in the atmosphere.

accompanied by a mischievous giggle that echoed through the stillness of the night, you took a leisurely stroll to the passenger side of the car, each confident stride a harmonious dance with the rhythmic stomp of her uggs on the concrete floor, their cadence a subtle declaration of her self-assured presence. when you got to the side of the car, you heard a slight click and the door opening, seeing suguru spread out over the middle of his car, to open up the door.

she sat down in her reserved spot that awaited her return, an unspoken promise nestled with the confines of that space. with an air of playful confidence now enveloping her like a cloak, she turned to face him, the glint in her eyes evolving into a teasing sparkle that danced with mischief. "missed me?" you inquired with a mischievous glint in your eyes, your gaze lingering on him as you handed him the blunt back, the tendrils of smoke intertwining with the air. with a subtle smile, you scooted over, closing the distance, and planting a lingering kiss on his jawline, the warmth of the gesture accentuated by the shared exhale of the smoke-filled moment.

"how could i possibly miss you," he answered jokingly, his tone laced with playful teasing as a mischievous glint danced in his eyes, the warmth of shared banter hanging in the air. you heard his breath hitch imperceptibly at the sudden kiss on his jawline.

as you chuckled, playfully pushing sugura away, you observed him with a mischievous grin as he turn on his car, the engine revving with a distinctive growl, signaling the departure from the familiar confines of the old park where he routinely conducted his sales. as the wheels began to roll, navigating the urban terrain, it seemed that not a single though occupied suguru's mind regarding his destination. with a sigh, you found solace in the soft glow of your phone, it's bright light casting an illuminating aura on your pretty face, before gently placing it down.

as suguru continued to drive, his focus fixed on the road ahead, you couldn't help but sneak glanced in his direction, curious about the direction his whims would take him. amidst the rhythmic hum of the engine, your gaze met suguru's, his attention momentarily diverted from the road. "whats the matter, princess?" he asked, sensing the subtle shift in your emotions reflected on your face. the fleeting moment of connection hung in the air, as the urban landscape passed by, encapsulating the unspoken dynamics between you two in the cocoon of the moving vehicle.

before sighing and sinking into your seat, you admitted, "school's been stressin' me, 'guru." the admission hung in the air, accompanied by a sense of vulnerability, and you could tell from suguru's perceptive gaze that he had already deduced the cause of her sudden reappearance.

"what's got you stressed out?" a slightly concerned tone, laced with genuine worry, and maybe even a hint of empathy, rang through his voice as he took another hit from the blunt, the fragrant tendrils of smoke swirling in the air between you two.

"just the fact that all these tests are coming up, i've got like three long-ass writing assignments due next week, and trying to balance my social and academic life." you expressed with a sigh, your shoulders sagging under the weight of her responsibilities, just as suguru extended the blunt toward her, offering a momentary reprieve in the form of the last few lingering puffs.

he lingered in silence for a thoughtful moment, contemplatinf his options and considering the words or actions that would follow, before a subtle smirk etched across his features. with a calculated nonchalance, he proposed, "how bout we head to waffle house, head back to my place, smoke some more, and then we fuck?" a wide smile plastered on his face once more, before you smiled and planted another kiss on his jawline.

"sounds like a plan, baby."

❁ suki speaking — idk weedman suguru been in my mind for a while after i saw this lil prompt on tt. but enjoy!! <3

#❁. suki's work #❁. suki's recs #manga #anime #geto suguru #suguru x black reader #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu geto #kenjaku #weedman #weedman suguru #plug suguru #situationship #ok get out my tags now #in love with weedman suguru fr

58 notes · View notes

blueshistorysims · 11 months ago

Text

June 1923, London, England

It seemed as if Wilhelmina and Jack’s party had awoken some sort of hedonist spirit within him. Any previous attempts he’d tried to make with his duties as a peer were forgotten—not that it mattered anyway, most people in the House of Lords disliked him regardless. The Ritz became his home base, splitting his time between the hotel and the house of various friends, both old and new.

Within three months, he was sure that he’d nearly tripled the number of people he’d had sex with, which Giselle and Francesca had mercilessly teased him about, but it had many advantages, and it seemed like with every new person he shared a bed, he received two invitations to social events, whether it be parties, dinners, soirees, etc. Being around people with similar tastes and interests also allowed him to find suggestions and people read the work he’d done in person, not just via letters, and by the middle of June, he felt that his translation and commentary of The Epic of Gilgamesh was good enough to be sent to the publishers and editors.

Giselle, on the other hand, after months of slaving day and night in her sewing room as Francesca handled sales and customers, it seemed that their little boutique was taking off, and most women living in Central London were seen wearing some of her designs.

Shortly after opening one morning, a woman dressed finely walked into the shop, inquiring for a party dress. Francesca, who still setting up their latest model, looked surprised. No one came this early in the morning.

“Good morning, ma’am, how can I help you?”

“Um, is Miss Walsh in?”

“Oh, yes, she’ll be down in a moment or so.” She chuckled. “She likes to sleep in.”

The other woman smirked as she looked around. “A friend of a friend recommended this place, and I can see why now. These are lovely.”

Francesca beamed with pride.

Giselle stepped out from her sewing studio, looking surprised that they already a had customer. “Oh, good morning, I hope you weren’t waiting long.”

“No, of course not. Miss Walsh?”

“That would be me.”

She sighed in relief. “Oh, thank you. I’m attending a party, and I was hoping to get a dress. I was told you do custom designs for customers.”

“Yes, um we can head back for measurements now if you wish, Ms…”

“Lady Lyton.”

Francesca’s eyes widened. The Countess of Lyton was their dress shop! Giselle looked less impressed, only giving Francesca a side glance. “Oh, I’m sorry, your ladyship, I wasn’t aware.” She turned to her partner. “There’s a countess in our dress shop.”

“We’ve had a duke.”

“Your brother doesn’t count.”

The Countess raised a brow. “Walsh… Your brother is the Duke of Feldsbury?”

“Yes. Have you met him?”

“I first met him at a party two months ago—we are mutual friends with Mrs. Jack Porter. He’s a bit of a Casanova, but he's handsome, very intelligent, and makes delightful conversation.” She smirked. “My husband, on the other hand, finds him impertinent.”

Francesca snickered.

“That sounds like my brother. …He was forced to accept the title and its responsibilities when not even being aware of it until after the war, so he cares very little of what society thinks of him and will likely do everything in his power to dredge the name of the late duke.”

The Countess nodded. “Well, I never liked the late duke.”

“Well, back to your request, your ladyship. When is the party?” Giselle asked, grabbing her notepad and pencil.

“Four days from now.”

Giselle frowned. “And you want a custom dress?”

“Yes.”

“I’m sorry, but a custom design and pattern would at least take me two weeks, my lady.”

Lady Lyton sighed. “Oh. I see.”

“Well,” Francesca interrupted, gesturing to the dress she’d just set up, “I saw you admiring this, and Miss Walsh only finished it yesterday. There is no other dress like it, and tailoring at most only takes a few days if we do measurements now.”

Giselle nodded eagerly. “Yes, and if you wish, I could add some extra embellishments if desired, and it could be ready to be picked up the morning of your party.”

The Countess looked impressed. “You ladies know how to work a deal.” She glanced at the dress. “I will be telling everyone I know about the Duke of Feldbury’s sister and her delightfully modern dress shop.”

Giselle and Francesca couldn’t help but beam.

beginning/previous/next

#the walshes #the walsh legacy #ts4 #the sims 4 #sims 4 decades #sims 4 historical #sims 4 decades challenge #ts4 story #ts4 historical #sims 4 history challenge #history simblr #ts4 decades challenge #ts4 1920s #1920s #tw sex mention #byron living up to his name sake fr 🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻#giselle walsh #francesca pace #byron walsh

29 notes · View notes

artsybelle1015 · 2 years ago

Text

Suicidal in Twisted Wonderland

Grim found your calendar, and it all goes downhill from there.

Genre: Angst/Hurt Comfort

trigger warnings(!!!): the mc is SUICIDAL, talks of suicide and plans, heavy topics not for the faint of heart or odd mindset, spoilers only if you haven’t gotten that far into the game, reader uses they/them pronouns

•••

“[Y/N]?”

“Yes, Grim?”

“Why doesn’t your calendar go to next month or any month after that?” Grim scoffed. “I needed to put the tuna sales there to remind you.”

Ignoring his comment on tuna, your eyes widen. You had never expected him to bother looking at a calendar, especially yours since you usually filled it up with test dates. But as of lately, you had planned to take your own life by the end of the month, exhausted of dealing with this school and your inability to go home.

“Henchmen!” Grim hollered.

You shot up out of your seat, emotions swelling in you. Yes, you had planned this out for awhile, but being confronted by someone other thank yourself about your calendar sting a part of your heart. Without thinking, you ran to the door, tears welling in your eyes.

Panic ensued within Grim, he saw this unnatural reaction and leaped back, getting on all fours and hunching his back up. Heavy pants emerged from his mouth.

He had never seen you behave like before. In specific terms, he was worried and scared. You ran off to who knows where.

Getting back into shape, Grim rushed to the door, jumping repeatedly to pull the doorknob down.

“Stupid legs,” he uttered, coiling his body and springing up, catching the handle and weighing it down.

Finally, now the door was open he ran out in search of you.

Grim felt terrified, you ran off wordlessly. Although he doesn’t like to admit, he cares about you, and he doesn’t want you getting hurt.

Having no sense of which way you went, he first ran onto the campus because that’s where you two frequented most. He wondered if you went to Heartslabuyl since you’re closest to Ace and Deuce, and without thinking much further he bolted to the Mirror Chamber,

Whilst he ran and entered, he wondered why some stupid incomplete calendar made you react this way. Or was it something he said?

“Grim!” called a confused voice, the voice belonging to Ace. “The hell are you doing here?”

Followed behind was Deuce, both in dorm uniform as it was the weekend.

“My henchman is gone!” Grim hollered.

“Wait, what do you mean?” Deuce inquired, slowly and gently picking up Grim.

Taking a panicked breath, Grim exclaimed, “I showed them a calendar and they just ran off…”

“That’s odd,” Ace commented. “Why?”

“Well no matter, we have to act on this now!” Deuce declared, voice shaking. “We must do what it takes and find them!”

“Shit, how?” Ace inquired.

“Yeah they could be anywhere! And I want my henchman back!” Grim hollered, wiggling out of Deuce hold.

Deuce let Grim hop to the ground, standing up straight and proud, right hand over heart. “I know just the guy.”

___

Pathetic. You were pathetic, sitting in the woods sobbing on the ground.

You thought you hid yourself well, but Grim has to snoop through your calendar, revealing that you wouldn’t make it past next month.

It was so tiring, you were so tired, you had been there for everyone, but who had been there for you? No one, that’s who. Ever since coming to Twisted Wonderland, you had been thrusted into dangerous situation without warning, hurt way too many times to count, and Crowley is abusing your desperate state. You were so sick of it, you loved your friends so much, but you know they would never understand your pain. The overblots you faced has scarred you.

Even so, a part of you knew Grim didn’t understand what the calendar meant, he was simply confused and asking why. Oh God, you thought. How would he live without you?

That was the reason you broke down, you didn’t want to face people about your problems. You only kept it deep down and inside, maybe if you had talked to people they would recognize your pain. They’re all eighteen or younger, it’s unfair to expect them to know so much. Now it felt humiliating to go back.

“Child of man?” a voice spoke.

You whipped your head over to see the friend you called Hornton. Normally he stayed around the house, why was he so deep in the woods?

He seated himself next to you, staring at you, he looked concern. “What troubles you?” he inquired.

The setting sun and shadows of the tree swallowed his face, but his eyes shone. They reflected hints of yellow and pink as they bored into you

Tears walled up more in your eyes, so you looked down in the ground in shame. The grass was your best friend now, the only thing that wouldn’t look at your in judgment.

You were a horrible friend, making Grim and possibly now Ace and Deuce worried, running off out of nowhere. You should have sucked up the feelings and lied out of your teeth, it would’ve been for the better and you wouldn’t have to be here.

Hornton just kept staring though, making you want to cry even more. You decided to curl up and hide your face between your legs, in hopes he would leave.

But you could feel the eyes staring at you, intensely. He was still waiting an answer from you.

“It’s stupid,” you blurred out in a weak voice.

No, you didn’t want to die, that was dumb of you to think. You’re fine, it’s fine, you won’t leave them. Just hold on another few months, you could manage that, right?

“Is it?” he asked.

The question shocked you a bit, making you raise your head up and look straight at him, his facial expression seemed rather lost. Your eyes were bloodshot and wide, staring straight into his neon green ones. It wasn’t, if this has been anyone else you would’ve told them it’s okay.

He spoke again, “If it is what you can ‘stupid’ why are you crying a lot over it?”

Wiping your eyes, you looked away and chuckled a bit. “In your time of living, have you ever wished to be dead?”

“I feel that is natural to think.”

“No,” you uttered. “Like you really want to be dead so you planned it out.” It wasn’t a question anymore, you know that he most likely didn’t.

“Why do you wish to be dead?”

“I’m so exhausted all the time, and i’m not getting better. I already came into this world feeling horrible and it’s only gotten worse.” You looked back to your closest ally, the grass. “And I feel like no one cares.” It felt like you couldn’t control the words coming out, like they were itching a way to escape, all you needed was to tell someone even if you necessarily didn’t want to.

A soft sigh sounded, not of being upset, but it felt like it was empathetic. You faced him again and he slowly lifted his hand, rubbing the top of your head softly.

There was no time to question this sudden affection, you lunged towards him and tackled hug. Sobbing into his chest. His arms were so comforting it was unreal. He cared.

“I do not wish for you to die, child of man,” his voice softly rang. “So please, stay a little longer.” Though his pitch started to sound broken, like a part of him was hurting.

“I’m sorry!” you cried, grabbing at his blazer. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

He only rubbed your back and remained silent.

As your wails began to fade, he held you closer and spoke once again, “It is time for you to rest.”

Everything faded to a comforting black and silence.

___

It was a peaceful moment, you were content, you felt rested. It was a perfect state.

Now, it was time to awaken unfortunately.

You expected to wake up in the woods, but instead what awaited was the Ramschakle ceiling and the familiarly feeling of your bed.

Questions rang through your mind if you had dreamt it all, but was quickly shot down when Grim lunged at your chest whimpering.

“Henchman!” he choked. “Don’t leave me like that again!”

He curled up into you, nuzzling his face against yours which flabbergasted you. You never expected him to be so affectionate like this, much less care as a whole.

“Oh sevens, finally!” You looked over and saw Ace, his breath quick with panic.

Deuce came up too. “I’m so happy you were found.”

“It’s a good thing I remember your scent well,” called out Jack.

They were all in the room with you, they were waiting for you to wake up, they tried to find you.

“Why did you run off Prefect?” Ace questioned, leaning besides you. “Did Grim say something dumb?”

“I said I just asked about the calendar!” Grim hissed, standing in defense.

Right, the calendar, what started this mess. There was no dreaming this, it was time to face the truth, which caused you to cry once again and feel pathetic.

Grim jumped back into your stomach in surprise. Ace eyes widened in horror.

Deuce cleared his throat, though he sounded shaky. “Clearly there was something important on that calendar and we shouldn’t push them about this, it isn’t right!” he announced.

“I agree.” Jack nodded.

But you just brought your hands to your eyes and bawl every tear that held back against your waterline. It started with a dam having minor leakages, to full on breaking. You wanted to tell them everything.

“Yeah, I’m sorry,” Ace mumbled, standing up. “I shouldn’t have asked.”

Before he could walk away, you grabbed his hand, holding it tightly that is showed you were begging him to stay. You looked at him, lip quivering, staring into his unmoving distressed yet confused face.

You had to tell them, they were your friends and they clearly cared. All eyes laid on you now.

“I was planning to kill myself next month!” you blurted out, heart stopping because of the silence. Now you were horrified you messed up. “That’s why… the calendar upset me, I cut the other months off because I didn’t want to plan anything to keep me alive.” You were about to pull the covers over yourself to hide again.

“Don’t leave me!” Grim howled, tears in his eyes, he jumped at you again, closer this time, pouring all his own tears out.

You quickly hugged him.

“You can’t die on us!” Ace retorted, but quickly he grabbed onto you and pulled you for a hug.

“Prefect we need you,” Deuce anxiously said, staring at you with pleading eyes.

Jack even stood up, rubbing the back of his head a bit. “Life wouldn’t be the same without you.”

“Yeah!” Ace was not tearing up too. “We’re all suppose to be a group, remember? We wouldn’t be here without you.”

“You helped us through so much…” Deuce looked to the ground in shame. “But we failed to help you! We’re horrible friends!”

Grim was staying desperately close despite Ace’s tugging. “Who will I have to feed me and wake up with me and go to class with me!”

“You’re important to our lives, [Y/N],” Ace muttered softly. Despite his personality, he can quite soft and comforting.

“I’m sorry,” you manage to utter. “I’m sorry that I’m also making you feel like horrible friends.” More shame and guilt rose into you.

Deuce ran over and answered, “No! We’re the ones who should be sorry!”

“I think we pushed you too much,” Jack exclaimed, sitting next to you on the bed.

“You took care of us,” Deuce whimpered, he also began to become a sad mess, “now let us care for you.”

“Yeah! You don’t need to buy me that tuna!” Grim whimpered. “I just don’t want you to leave me.

Although you spent way too long sobbing in their arms, you knew you had people who cared for you.

___

It remained an oddly peaceful night, it seemed everyone was on their best behaviors. Of course, that only lasted a short amount of time. Though, it was relieving since there was a sense of normalcy in that.

You looked out from the porch, staring at the closed off gate. The reason for your stares was thoughts of your friend rolled by. You wish he would come and visit soon, but that seems to be not the case.

Even so, you knew it had meant nothing personal about you, he did find himself in different places at different times.

You only wish to thank him for his comfort and the restful slumber.

Peeking back inside, you could see Grim on the kitchen table with a box of crayons. He resembled a little kid, he was making more months for the calendar that he declared you must live through since he’s working so hard to create it.

Everyone in there you had told you felt guilt over them going through all this, but they assured you they would rather know so you don’t hurt more.

Although, you still felt the same about your suicidal feelings, you at least had the comfort to know people knew how you felt and would stop you. You were loved, a fact that you would now have to start drilling into your head, and that was a reason to keep going.

•••

a/n: shockingly, i have not seen people play around with this concept and it was such an inspiring thing for me. it was also for some self indulgence, i may do it more in the future with other characters and optional crushes.

also i don’t know much about malleus so i’m going on gut instinct here sorry if he’s ooc!

172 notes · View notes