#forgive me i've had wine

[non-un-topo]

This school year just wants to break me so badly and it's only October

[katskitoshi]

I'M BEGGING FOR THE INAZUMA VERSION OF A FAVOR WITH A FAVOR 😭

"FAVOR FOR A FAVOR," with GENSHIN IMPACT.

synopsis: he helps you with something and it's only fair you pay him back, right? (mondstadt vers.) (liyue vers.)

characters (part one): dom! ayato, (modern au!)thoma, gorou, itto x gn! sub! reader

includes: massages, perverted behaviors, handjobs, blowjobs, face fucking, masturbation mentions, stuck in a washing machine, cumming outside, cumming inside, outdoor sex, marking, facials, knots.

note: can you guys tell i'm just winging it with these characters? haha, its been a while since i've played inazuma and i’m confident to say i don't think i've characterized them too well. please forgive me if they're too out of character. ^.^

ayato, the pillar of fortitude: a happy ending.

during your stay in inazuma, ayato is insistent on allowing you to stay at the kamisato residence and partake in many cultural and ceremonial events without spending a single mora from your pocket. even though he insists that you don't need to repay him, you're awfully insistent on returning the favor tenfold.

--it started as a massage. your hands had ran along his muscly back, arms, shoulders, and eventually his legs. you massaged his calves and thighs, aiming to get more and more stress out from his tense muscles. you drank is his soft gasps and little praises like a fine wine as your eyes continuously wandered upwards to his groin, covered my only a thin cloth.

your hands had stopped massaging and began to simply slide up and down his thighs as you imagined your hands on his cock instead. what would it look like? it was certainly big, for one thing. you doubted he was hard, but you could see the slight imprint of the appendage against the loin cloth he wore. would it be veiny, like his hands?

maybe he used a toy, or humped a pillow, though you didn't strike him as the type. what did he think about when he wrapped his hands around it? was it a person, a past fling, a future fantasy? what if he was thinking about you? what positions would he put you in? would he let you ride him? would he bend you over his work desk? maybe he'd fuck you right against the walls while one of his loyal servants was just outside the door. would he let you sit in front of him as he jerked off, making you watch and not touch him or yourself?

fuck, your thighs instinctively clenched together as you reached for his clothed cock subconsciously. you're snapped out of it as a veiny hand grabs your reaching wrist. "and what do you think you're doing?" ayato asks with a warm, yet condescending tone. you look up at him in shock, but desperation in your eyes. "i- nothing, my lord. please forgive me." you bow your head, but you don't feel any remorse. you want to see it, you want to feel it in your palm. warm, throbbing, and leaking over your fingers.

"it didn't look like 'nothing' to me, darling." through his bangs, his cold eyes look at the crown of your head and he smiles. you meet his frozen gaze with a gasp of surprise as you feel your hand touch his cock over the cloth. you look up at him, your own eyes clouded with lust and desperation, and he chuckles.

"isn't this what you wanted? to feel me?" he uses his hold on yoru wrist to guide yoru hand over the phallus, nearly fully erect. just feeling it, even with a piece of cloth separating the two of you makes your thighs clench even more, and your mouth open in a breathless whimper. "i know you want to repay your favor, so how about you do it this way, hm? i could really use a massage somewhere else,"

his hand no longer holds your wrist, and you jump at the chance you're given to remove the cloth. when you see it, a glob of drool escapes your lips. you could cum just from the sight. it was slightly darker than the rest of his body, with the cutest blushing tip, and to your predictions, it was veiny. there was a prominent one along the underside that wrapped around to top at it's head. and he was leaking. a milky-clear drop of precum slipped down his shaft, and you wanted nothing more than to lap at it until you were given the real thing.

"what are you waiting for? i give you full permission to quench your desires." you don't waste a second. as much as you wish to admire the beauty of his cock, you're desperate to have it an your hands and eventually in your mouth. your right hand stays near the base while your left focuses on the head. you slowly drag your hand up and down, relishing in the feeling of it in your hand. warm and thick, but you don't waste time. you wanted him warm, throbbing, and leaking in your hand and now you have him like that.

using your fingers to glide over the tip, collecting precum and spreading it along the remainder of his cock, you begin pumping at a steady pace. you focus on the monster in your hands and ayato focuses on the devout look on your face and expressed through your body. heaving chest, clenched thighs, shortness of breath. you were a mess, and he loved it.

you spit on your palm and used it as extra lubrication to move faster. you leaned your face in closer to it and give it multiple kisses along it's length, and a one on the tip before licking a drop of precum from it's opening. fuck, it tasted good too. you continued to lick at the tip and ayato's hand found its way in your hair, urging you to take more.

you looked up at him with lidded, lustful eyes, keeping eye contact as you placed the tip of his cock in your mouth. he bucked his hips slightly, his thighs clenching and his head being thrown back as you began suckling on the tip. "good, good, fuck! you're so good," he moaned, "you can take a bit more, yeah? course you can, you're my good darling."

you take more into your mouth, drinking up his groans of satisfaction and words of praise like his precum. what you don't fit in your mouth is jerked off by your left hand, while your right hand holds his balls in your hand, slightly fondling them. your tongue drags against the underside of his lock, running along the vein and taking in the taste of him. "ha, ha, ha, oh fuck!" he throws his head back, the arm not on your head being thrown over his face. he was loud, and he didn't give a single fuck.

at the last second, you pull off his cock and jerk it really fast. his eyes roll to the back of his head as ropes of white cum paint itself on your face. some land on your face, others on your tongue, and some end up on yoru clothing. you don't mind, you scoop up the cum, where ever it lands, and place it into your mouth. you swallow audibly, opening your mouth to show ayato you swallowed every drop you got in your mouth.

he pants with a flushed expression as he looks at you. "you're so fucking slutty," he tips your face up at him, using his thump to wipe some cum off your cheek and place it in your mouth as he grips your chin, "and i fucking love it." he grabs you by your neck, pulling you to straddle his lap, his cock rubbing against your aroused groin. he kisses your neck then whispers in your ears, "fuck, i'm gonna give you your own little happy ending, alright?"

thoma, protecter from afar: washing machine heart.

for all the favors he's done for you, you feel like you owe him your life! but he's too humble for that. however, he won't pass up on an opportunity to finally relieve himself of stress when you give him permission to use you after you get stuck in a washing machine.

he feels like the world's biggest pervert. taking the chance the opportunity you offered him to fuck his coworker while you're stuck in a washing machine?! it feels like something straight out of a porno he'll find himself watching in the late ours of the night while beating his cock. yet, you feel so much better than his fist and he thinks he might just be addicted.

"ah~! you're too good! s-so wet and tight and, nghh!"

he moans, and the echo of the inside of the machine reverberates the sounds of your own as thoma's cock reaches each sensitive spot inside of you. his hands grip onto your hips as pushes himself deeper inside your walls.

"wish i could see your face so bad. bet you look so cute gettin fucked and i can't even see it."

he says through clenched teeth. evident by the way he seems to fuck you with more urgency.

"'ts not fair. s'not fair," he whines, "too good. you're too good 'nd i can't even see your face. w-we'll just have to do this another time, right baby? so we can see each other faces and i can make sure you get pampered like the perfection you are."

"okay, thoma. we can do it again. i promsie."

at your words, thoma begins to hump you even faster, you can feel water drip on your lower back. were they tears or drool from the pent of pervert behind you?

thoma dips his hand below you to play with your sex, and with a few more thrusts, you cum around his cock, an he pulls out just in time to paint you ass and lower back white. he pants, admiring the sight for a few seconds before helping you out of the machine you were stuck in.

"why didn't you cum inside?"

he kisses you before gently pulling away.

"i promise i will one day soon. when we can really feel each other and i can give you the proper foreplay and worship you deserve. wanted the first time i cum inside of you to be when i look you in your eyes. "

gorou, canine warrior: promises kept.

gorou is a busy hybrid, so he isn't left with much time to relieve himself. after taking time out of his especially busy schedule to help you with a mundane task, you feel the need to repay him. you catch him jerking off and think of the perfect way to repay the favor.

--"fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck~! you're too good to me, puppy!" the canine hybrid moans as he pushes your head further down his cock. his hips are swift and unstopping as drool escapes from your lips and your hand shoots between your thighs to play with your aroused sex.

how was the little shiba inu general of watatsumi able to fuck like a full grown wolf?

the roll of his hips slowed as the hybrid watches your eyes roll back. he only lets out a short breath before gently bringing one of his hands to your forehead and wiping a bead of sweat from your brow. your eyes connect with his as he licks the sweat off his thumb with a low growl.

"you're too sweet, can't promise i won't just sink my teeth in and never let go, ah-"

he's cut off my a small whimper as your purposefully rub your tounge along the underside of his cock, looking up at his with playful eyes that make his tail swish like never before. his head rolls back as his hips begin to move again. this time, slower, but focusing on hitting deeper against the back of your throat.

"nghhhh, i love you so much. you're too good to me, way too fucking good. m'gonna stuff your little hole full as soon as m'done marking my territory all over this pretty little face of yours. not gonna stop until one of us are limp from pleasure, pup."

gorou's hips focus on both speed and precision now, clearly chasing his own high through your throat. his head is thrown back as little whimpers and moans escape his lips. he mutters small promises of marking you and making sure you're filled to brim. ones you know he has no intentions of breaking.

especially when his thrust pick up speed for a few pumps then he abruptly pulls you off his cock to have rope after rope of creamy cum to paint your face and chest. his balls clench as he pumps the last load right onto your awaiting face. your hands speed up two, and you find yourseld cumming at the same time as him.

gorou feels himself harden up again just seeing your fucked out expression. from pure arousal, from the high of your orgasm, and from the face fucking you just received. his hand cups your cheek, and he kisses you gently. its a complete opposite from the treatment he just gave you.

the kisses get deeper and deeper until your hands are tangled in his hair and his are on your waist. he licks a stripe down to your nape, his sharp teeth grazing the tender flesh before he sinks them in, you let out a moan of surprise, and he leaves a few more marks across your neck.

he pulls from your neck and hovers himself over you, suddenly flipping you so you're flat against the floor. he uses your hips to pull your lower half up and curve you into a nice arch. the hybrid's hands grasp your ass, fondling the cheeks a bit before he takes a bite, leaving a hickey.

"promised i would mark you 'nd i did, didn't i? now i just gotta fill you up till one of us passes out from exhaustion."

gorou leans over your back, to whisper in your ear as he lines up his cock with your hole.

"and i promise it won't be me."

itto, the one and oni: take me before you join me.

you had challenged one of his gang members to try to become a member of his gang. and right before the fight can actually start, you realize you're severely outmatched. luckily, the gang's leader saves you before you can get your ass handed to you. you thank him, and the only thing he wants in return for saving your ass is a piece of it.

"come on baby, you've almost got me! just a few more inches to go!" he playfully taunts, watching as you practically try to crawl away from the huge cock that penetrated your hole. you let out breathless moans as your insides tried to suck in the phallus. your body was already giving in, but a small part of your rational mind knew that he was too big to handle.

you look over your shoulder at him, face warm and flushed with tears. behind your eyes, he can see you're already losing to the pleasure you're getting from him. and yet, you still try to grip onto the stone walls of the building he fucks you against and crawl away.

"its so cute! yer body's already giving into me yet yer still insisting on this song and dance that i'm too big to take."

he punctuates his words with a thrust, getting at least another inch inside. you let out a pathetically loud moan and quickly cover your mouth in shame. more moans leave you as itto's hand slaps your ass and pulls you further back to meet his pelvis. "sh-shit! you're so damn tight and soooo loud. not that i mind, but are you trying to let the whole damn city know you're getting plowed by the arataki itto?"

finally, the oni has your ass firm against his pelvis. nearly every single inch of his cock inside of your warm walls, and they clench deliciously around him. you can tell by the satisfied growl then repeated smacking of you ass. ugh, it would be so sore tomorrow. but you can't even think about it before itto starts a harsh pace.

rythmatic moans escape you. instead of attempting to crawl away from his cock, you grip the stone to stabilize yourself. you even began pushing back against him, attempting to meet him halfway, but he was too fast for you to match his quick thrusts.

"ah, shit! ittoooo~!" you pants, tears falling down yoru cheek in pure pleasure. when his hand wraps around your waist to not only support you from below, but to play with yoru sex, you cum on the spot, wailing his name like its the only word you know.

the oni only laughs, his pace unrelenting as he works you through your high while chasing his own. by the way he suddenly gets faster with the rolls of his hips, you can say that he's getting closer and closer.

"you knew you were outmatched by that small fry in a fight yet you still decided to fuck the big guy, huh?"

he movies his hand from your sex and grips your neck, turning your head to face him. as you look at him over your shoulder, you can see the evil smirk on his face.

"but theres something you still havent accounted for, baby."

and suddenly, you feel it. you feel him. your mouth opens in a breathless gasp as yoru eyes roll to the back of your head. his knot, at least the size of your fist, gets thrusted in the entrance of your hole, and you cum a second time in sync with the oni.

ropes of warm white liquid fill your walls and you drool in satisfaction. even with the knot plugging your entrance, steaks of cum still drip from yoru hole around it. you can barely see it, but itto breifly pouts at the sight of his load being wasted.

you pant out his name, but theres no answer. that is until you hiss at the feeling of your ass being slapped again.

"can't believe you thought you could be one of us when yer so weak.." he whispered.

"you're not joining my gang till you take my cock and knot without spilling even a drop of my cum. and since the great arataki ittos so nice, i'll give you a second chance right now."

(mondstadt vers.) (liyue vers.)

[cherriesncinnamon]

forgive me / father charlie x fem!reader

synopsis: after recently becoming involved with the catholic church, you soon start having inappropriate fantasies about your priest. desperately wanting to atone, you confess your sins.

warnings/tags: handjob, unprotected sex (don't try this at home), mentions of self harm/repentance, priest x reader (i mean no harm to the catholic community, this is just fiction).

word count: 1.3k.

a/n: sooooo🥰 i'm obsessed with nicholas chavez. i'm not gonna lie, i haven't seen grotesquerie fully, but after seeing his scenes i had to write a one shot about father charlie. this is completely and utterly feral. me when i need him biblically.

link to another father charlie piece i've done due to popular demand!!

︵‿︵‿୨��୧‿︵‿︵

I've never been a religious person. I've always believed that a higher power is unprovable, leading to my agnosticism. My mother is a devout Catholic, but she's never particularly pushed her beliefs onto me. That was until recently when she threatened to disown me if I refused to come to church for another Sunday.

The people are insufferable, the sermons are unstimulating, and I cannot bear knowing I could be doing something much more exciting with my morning. I sit at the very end of the pew, arms crossed in anguish, awaiting a middle aged, balding priest to appear and preach for an hour. But to my surprise, a much younger version emerges instead. Dark thick hair, darling brown eyes, and a charming smile. My eyes widen with intrigue at the strikingly handsome man before me. He begins to speak, walking up and down the rows of people, truly passionate about what he's saying. I'm paying attention to the words, but not so much the message. After the communion and the drinking of the wine, my mother and I mingle for a bit, chatting uselessness to the bored housewives. Church is the only liberating part of their week, and now I know why.

As if by a miracle of God, I become Catholic overnight. My mother is shocked at my interest in coming to church the following week, and the week after that, and that week after that. Each time I see him, my desire intensifies. Knowing that he has taken a vow of celibacy only entices me more. I imagine him bending me over the pews, his singular ring leaving an indent in my upper thigh. I need to confess. I need to release this demon that is plaguing my thoughts.

On a stormy Friday evening, I make my way to the back of the church, placing three hesitant knocks on his office door. The rest of the building is vacant, candle light being my only source of sight. His voices seeps through the door, permitting me to enter.

"Ah, Miss Y/L/N, to what do I owe the pleasure?" He welcomes me in with a warm smile, putting down the pen he was holding to usher me to sit.

"Forgive me Father, for I have sinned. I- I've come to confess." I swallow, stuttering my words in fear. Father Charlie cocks his head in question.

"I see. Anything you say should be in confidence, your confession will be safe with me." He replies, nodding in reassurance. I fiddle with the hem of my skirt in anticipation, heat rising to my cheeks from simply being alone with him. I drape my long hair over my shoulder and clear my throat.

"I've been having impure thoughts, Father."

"Okay. And what do these thoughts detail?" He probes, clasping his hands together on the wooden desk. The Bible sits closed next to him; I can feel it judging me.

"Sexual thoughts. I want to pleasure myself, but I know I can't." I grip at my throat which has become tight, my stomach tingling with the remembrance of my fantasies. Charlie loosens his Roman collar, eyes searching the room for anything to look at besides me.

"I think about you, Father. You punishing me for my sins, taking me, sliding yourself into me." I spill, cheeks on fire and wine red. Father Charlie is quick to stand up from his chair, pacing to the other side of the room.

"I have taken a vow. Please do not seduce me." He begs, reaching for the door handle.

I stand in front of him, his tall frame towering over me, eyes fixated on mine. His chest is heaving, lips slightly parted as he breathes. Standing on the tips of my toes, I whisper.

"Don't you want to know what it feels like, Father? Just once?" My bottom lip lightly grazes his ear lobe, increasing his breathing pace. Our faces are mere centimetres apart, and I'm using all of my might to stop myself tasting him.

"I cannot abandon my faith, I mustn't." He insists, expression pained and frustrated. His brow is furrowed, forehead glazed in sweat. I can tell he is holding himself back with all his strength, and I'm feeling brave.

I take my fingertips and slide them over his clothed cock, smiling as it hardens under my gentle touch. Charlie goes to remove my hand, but quickly retracts when I speed up, using my palm to add pressure. I slowly undo his leather belt, lifting the waistband of his black pants. Taking him in my grasp, I stroke his thick length, watching in euphoria as his head tips back in bliss. His hands seek the stability of the doorframe for support, his knees weakening more every second.

"Feel me." Slipping my panties to the side, I guide his fingers to my pussy, slick with my arousal, begging for contact.

"Oh, forgive me Lord." He cries out, teasing my entrance with his digits while I excite his tip dripping pre-cum with my thumb. He stares at me in awe when I lick myself off his fingers, cock throbbing, veins pulsing blood into him until he's unbearably hard.

Hungry for my kiss, he devours my lips, biting my bottom lip playfully. Our tongues slide across one another, his hands gripping the sides of my face. He tastes like the Merlot we have at communion; sweet and fruity. My hands snake around his neck, twirling the thick locks of hair at the nape. His lips take interest elsewhere, peppering erotic pecks across my jaw, to my neck, and to my chest. I unbutton my white dress shirt, revealing my braless breasts. His eyes widen, immediately manhandling and kissing the supple skin.

"I want to feel you inside of me. Please, Father." I moan, perching myself on the edge of his desk, skirt hiked up to my hips. I spread my legs wide, fully revealing myself to him. He exhales in defeat, slotting himself between me.

Charlie rests his hands on either side of me on the desk while I line up his cock to my entrance, pushing my hips towards him. Grabbing my waist, he enters me, his length filling my walls like a glove. His voice groans deeply against my neck, his hand pressed on my lower back for support. His thrusts start off slow and juvenile, but quickly speed up to a pace we both can't take for long. I wrap my legs around him, pulling him in deeper. I moan sweet noises with every movement and caress, realising that this is better than I could've imagined.

"You feel so good, this feels so good." He sobs, nails digging into my hips so hard they leave streaks of blood. The cross around his neck swings in my face, reminding me of how sin can feel so good.

Waves of pleasure wash over me, the coil inside of me tightening by the second. I pull the back of his head close to me as my climax arrives. I bite his lip hard in satisfaction, tasting his blood on my tongue. It's not long before he follows in a moaning mess, burying his head into my chest, grabbing my breast as his warm cum fills me.

It takes a minute of getting our breaths back to move. I use a tissue to wipe his seed off my thighs. Father Charlie hastily redresses, fixing his collar and clutching his necklace.

"Lord, forgive me. Forgive me for this cardinal sin. Forgive me for enjoying it." He prays on his knees, staring up at a portrait of God. I place my hand on his back, feeling some guilt.

"I need to repent. You need to punish me." He says, picking up his leather belt from the floor and placing it in my hands.

"How can something that feels like this be a sin?" He asks me, tears in his eyes. I shake my head, not knowing the answer myself. He takes his shirt off, showing me his scarred back.

"Punish me, please."

[sheaabuttaababyy]

Sorry - Jey Uso

Warnings: slight smut, toxic couple, infidelity, dramaaa

Pairing: Jey x Maya

"Babyyyy I’m home" Josh walked in the house rolling his suitcase with a bag of Chinese food in his hand. Unaware of the eerie silence and darkness in the house.

Turning the dim lights on for the living room he saw his wife Maya sitting there with a glass of wine in her hand. "Oh shit. Damn babe you scared the shit outta me" putting the stuff down he laughed walking towards her.

He leaned down to give her a kiss but she moved her head away. Making a confused face he stepped back. "Yo you good. What’s wrong ba-?"

"When were you gonna tell me you’ve been fucking your coworker. Leah" finally making eye contact with him she took a sip of her wine calmly. A little too calm.

Josh looked at her as the room began to feel hot, his throat starting to tighten "W-what? Whatchu talking about?"

"I’m talking about this" pulling out her phone she put it on the table in front of her as a video of a man. That you can clearly tell was Josh, was getting head from Leah.

"You still don’t know what I’m talking about?" She asked standing up as Josh sat on the couch with his head in his hands. Not knowing what to say.

"I’m sorry" he spoke softy as tears spilled from his eyes.

"Oh god. Give me a break" chugging her wine she went to go put the glass in the mirror sink. Josh immediately got up following her.

"I’m sorry Maya. I cut it off with her I-I promise I’m done with her, Fuckk I’m so sorry. I’m sorry I let you down like this, I’m so incredibly sorry for cheating on you after all these years. I know I've shattered your trust, and I would give anything to take it back. You mean the world to me, and I can't imagine my life without you.”

Tears built up in her eyes as she whipped her head around to him. "Why? Why did you cheat and I wanna know how it started and how long."

"I felt lonely and m-me being on the road I missed affection. Fuck" Josh squeezed his eyes shut trying not to let more tears spill. He had no right being heart broken and he knew telling her everything would break Maya apart.

Opening his eyes he brought them back to her before continuing. "One night while I was on the road I was missing you and the kids. I needed to rant and Leah was there" he took a breath before continuing. "I started ranting and telling her how I was sexually frustrated and how I missed you and need you. He choked on a sob not wanting to tell his wife what happened.

"Fucking say it. You pussy. You already fucking cheated you piece of shit so tell me!" She smacked his chest urging him to speak.

"She started rubbing on me and i let her. But when she kissed me I pulled away but she told me to close my eyes and imagine it was you. And I did"

Maya let the sob that was stuck in her throat come out as her body shook. 14 years of marriage and 3 kids for what? For this?

"How long?" she spoke in between her cries.

"2 months. I cut it off 1 month ago" his voice just barley above a whisper.

Maya was trying to walk away but Josh grabbed her getting on his knees. Hugging her waist he held her tight so she couldn’t move.

"Please. I’m on my knees asking for your forgiveness. I know I don’t deserve it Maya, but I promise to do whatever it takes to make things right. I’ll work hard to rebuild what I've broken and show you that I can be the husband you deserve. I love you more than I can express, and I’m begging you to let me prove that to you. I’m so so sorry baby"

There was a silence only the sound of their sniffles filling the air. Maya gripped his chin making him look up at her.

Forcefully she pushed him back making him fall back on his ass as she quickly went upstairs.

Josh got up chasing after her. Going into their master bedroom he saw Maya take out a suitcase, aggressively pack her clothes.

"I’ve been by your side 17 fucking years. I was there for you every step of the way. I supported you, cheered you on, believed in you when no one else did" zipping her suitcase she looked at him. "And this is the fucking thank you I got, cheating with some thirsty ran through girl."

"Do you know the fucking pain, I felt waiting for you to come home to me and the kids and then get a fucking video sent to me of you getting your dick sucked by some bitch."

"I’m sorr-"

"stop fucking saying that. Your not fucking sorry your sorry cause your stupid ass got caught. You weren’t sorry when you fucking around with her so please. Just shut the fuck up" she didn’t even feel sadness anymore just straight up anger.

Grabbing her suitcase she walked towards the door but Joshua quickly blocked it.

"Please stay. W-we can talk this out."

"Get out my way.”

"Maya please I’m begging you, can we please jus-"

"Joshua I’m telling you right now to get the fuck out my way"

"May-" he was cut off as Maya slapped his face as hard as she could. Josh felt his ears ringing, his face getting hot from the harsh slap he just got.

Going downstairs she grabbed the car keys before leaving the house.

"Hello, hello Mayaaaa" Maya snapped back into reality as her best friend Gina waved her hand in her face.

"Baby girl you good? You zoned out for a minute. I was calling your name for awhile."

He tryna roll me up

I ain’t picking up

Heading to the club

Her and Gina were currently in the back of an Uber on their way to the club. And all Maya could think about it what happened 2 weeks ago. Since then Josh has been calling her none stop, sending her flowers and other random gifts. She sent everything back each time.

"Yeah yeah. Just thinking" Maya shot her friend a smile but Gina could tell it wasn’t genuine.

"Aww don’t be sad girllll. Tonight I’m gonna make sure you have fun and let loose. Fuck that Yeet Yeet ass Negro" she said with a mug making Maya laugh.

Once they arrived at the club Maya could already feel the stares coming her way. She’ll admit she did look good as fuck. Her latex brown jumpsuit clung tightly against her body. And her hair and makeup was perfect.

They went towards the bar as Gina started ordering shots right away. "Yes can we please get 12 tequila shots pleaseee" Maya looked towards her friend as if she was insane. Which she was.

"Girl who tf drinking all those shots"

"Bitch us. Now here" passing her a shot as she raised her own. "To having fun and letting loose"

Me and my ladies sip my D'USSÉ cup

"Wooooo" Maya cheered "and finding Maya new dick" Gina quickly snuck in before downing her shot.

Maya and Gina made their way to the dance floor once the liquor had their bodies buzzing.

Soco by StarBoy started playing loudly through the club as Maya put her hands around Gina’s neck grinding the front of their bodies against each other slowly.

Almost everyone’s eyes were set on the two girls as they didn’t give a care in the world.

"Ayy Jon ain’t that Maya" Jacob slapped his cousins chest trying get his attention.

"The fuck. Yeah it is." He spoke watching his sister in law grind on her friend.

"Why she acting as if she’s single. And wasn’t Josh supposed to come to the club as well?" Zilla asked sipping his drink.

"Yeah I tried to get him to come but he’s been bed rotting for 2 weeks now. And honestly I’m happy sis is out here feeling herself again. She deserves it." Jon spoke nodding his head approvingly.

And he meant what he said yeah he’ll always be there for Josh. Of course that’s his brother. But Maya was also like his sister. So when he found out that Josh’s dumbass cheated. He cussed his ass out. Maya was really a one of a kind type girl, and Their whole family has been shitting on him since the word spread out.

As Maya continued to dance on her friend she turned around and began twerking and whining against her until a tall figure approached them.

"Hey beautiful is it okay if I can come take your friends place?" The fine tatted up man asked Maya as Gina nodded her head pushing Maya towards him a bit so she could go dance on him.

Maya hesitantly grabbed his hand that he put out for her. As she grabbed it she took in his appearance. And Damn he was fine. He did look a little bit younger though but she didn’t mind he was fine as fuck.

She turned around slowly grinding her ass against him feeling his bulge that was pressing into her backside. "What’s your name pretty" he spoke huskily into ear his right hand rubbing up and down her right thigh as they continued to grind on each other.

Turning her head slightly she looked up at him smiling. "Maya. What’s yours?"

"Tyrique" he smiled down at her flashing his diamond grills.

Across the room Jacob, Jon and Zilla had their mouths wide open. This was some teaaa for them.

"Nahhhhh that’s wild" Jacob laughed.

Jon eyes were wide as he quickly texted Trinity the "☕️" emoji.

Zillas messy ass, recorded Maya and the dude dancing on each other. He was bored and wanted a little more drama.

Josh was currently in bed scrolling through Mayas instagram seeing that she posted a new picture.

Mayaaa_Jones✔️

Liked by Trinity_fatu, Biancabelairwwe, CM Punk and others

Mayaaa_Jones looking too good it make his chest hurt💋

Uceyjucey717 bodyyyy teaaa

Tina_818 wait did anyone else peep that her last name in her insta isn’t fatu anymore!?!?

WWE_OTC_USO replied to Tina_818 Girl yeah twitter saying he cheated on her but I’m not 100% sure

Rebeccaflowers NOOOOO MY SHAYLAAA WHY TWITTER SAYING JEY CHEATED?

Brentfaiyaz✔️ looking edible

Rachel_woods replied to Brentfaiyaz✔️ TF. NIGGA WHAT U DOING HERE???

Badgalkayla replied to Brentfaiyaz✔️ Oooh I’m here for it. Get her Brent 😝

Josh frowned seeing Brentfaiyaz in her comments. The fuck he in there for? He always hated how people were starting to put two and two together about his and Mayas personal life.

He sighed rubbing his head as his phone dinged seeing he got a notification from his cousin Zilla.

Lil Cuzzo yo ass should’ve came to the club

Lil cuzzo sent 1 attachment

Josh clicked on the video. He saw that it was a club. The camera zoomed in focusing on two figures dancing on eachother sexually. He squinted his eyes quickly recognizing the clothing the girl was wearing it was the same jumpsuit Maya was wearing in her picture.

"What the fuck" tears burned in his eyes as his chest began to feel heavy. He continued to watch the video seeing how the guy started nuzzling his face into his wife’s neck as she laughed turning her head to the side, giving him more access.

"No, no, no, no" Josh quickly took the covers off him. Going to the closet he put on a pair of pants along with a zip up hoodie. Grabbing his phone and keys he jogged down the stairs slipping his shoes on, running to the car.

Getting in he quickly turned it on pulling out the driveway speeding to the club.

Meanwhile at the club Maya and Tyrique were still dancing their hands became more touchy overtime. her hands grazing over his hard dick. His hands slightly rubbing her titties, some kisses to her neck. They were basically fucking on the dancefloor.

"Well, well, well. If it isn’t the fatu boys" Gina walked over to where Jon and them were smiling. "Sup Gina" they all greeted. "Whatchu guys doing here? She asked sitting on the couch in their lounge.

"It’s a Friday night decide to come here and vibe" Jacob spoke shrugging his shoulders.

"What about you I see you and my sister in law came but she looks a little busy at the moment" Jon said looking over at Maya who was clearly enjoying her self with ole dude.

Gina looked over in her direction smiling like a proud mom. "I know look at her go. She deserves to have fun after the shit your brother put her through"

"I’m not disagreeing, but I think if she continues what’s she’s doing she’s gonna regret it."

"Mhmm I don’t think so. Your brother was literally at work fucking your guys coworker. While Maya was at home taking care of their kids waiting for his calls, texts and him coming back home. He complained about not feeling loved and getting affection when he literally could’ve expressed to his wife how he felt. But no he used a lame ass excuse and cheated. You don’t think Maya was missing him as well?"

Gina snarled in disgust thinking about everything Maya told her. She truly hated Joshua right now. She just wanted to make sure her best friend was happy and having fun at the moment.

In the car Joshua tried calling Maya for the 7th time but again. It went straight to voicemail. He was almost at the club which should’ve been a 20 minute drive but he made it 10. Calling again it went to voicemail. Again.

"MAYA I SWEAR TO GOD IF YOU DO ANYTHING WITH THAT MOTHERFUCKER ILL BURN THE WHOLE FUCKING CLUB DOWN." Calming down a bit he continued. "Please I’m sorry I’m sorry for everything just please come back to me. I can’t stand seeing you with anyone else" he cried as he drove.

Now you wanna say you're sorry

Now you wanna call me crying

Now you gotta see me wilding

Now I'm the one that's lying

And I don't feel bad about it

It's exactly what you get

Stop interrupting my grinding

At the club Mayas phone repeatedly buzzed it her tiny purse, that was around her wrist. "You tryna get outta here mama" Tyrique asked nibbling her ear.

Maya turned around facing him biting her lip she nodded her head. Grabbing her hand Tyrique led her towards the exit as Maya turned around trying to spot Gina.

Finding her she gave her a look noticing she was sitting with Josh’s cousins and his brother. Gina mouthed "good luck" giving her a thumbs up.

Tyrique led her outside calling over a taxi. As he led her into it. Playfully smacking Mayas ass making her giggle.

Josh finally made it to the club not bothering to find a parking spot. Parking in front of the entrance he turned his hazards on running inside not caring about the security guard trying to stop him. Going in he spotted his brother, cousins and his wife best friend sitting at a lounge.

"Yo Watchu you doing her-"

"Where she at?" Josh quickly cut his brother off too focused to find his wife.

"How you even know she was here?" Gina asked confused.

"His ass sent a video of my wife dancing with some dude. I’m not gonna ask again where the fuck is she?!" He felt himself getting heated ready to crash out.

They all looked towards Zilla who looked away avoiding eye contact.

"Oh welp Maya left with fine shyt" Gina smiled up at him sipping her drink.

"AND YOU LET HER?" Josh yelled starting to attract others attention.

"Ayy man don’t yell at her" Jon quickly came in defence. Josh looked towards him stepping to him.

"You! Your my fucking brother and you didn’t even try to stop her from leaving. What kind of brother are you? You supposed to be on my side! Zilla was the one who had to text me. Not yo ass"

Jon stood up real quick. He wasn’t about to get bashed on when all of this was his own brothers fault.

"First of all. Don’t question about what kind of brother I am. When yo ass couldn’t even be a good husband." A look of hurt flashed Josh’s eyes, but it quickly got masked with anger.

"Shut yo ass up" he pushed his older twin back as the same security guard from the entrance of the club snatched his ass up real quick, before Jon could even react.

In the taxi Maya was flushed against Tyriques side as she got to know about him a little more. She found out he was 27 which meant she was 7 years older than him.

Which wasn’t too bad to her. She usually went older not younger, but this man carried himself so maturely that she was gonna give him a try.

Arriving they got out as Tryique greeted the security guard of the building. Going into the elevator they both went in as he pressed the floor to his penthouse.

Going to the opposite wall from her, his eyes trailing up and down Mayas body making her smirk looking down.

Once the doors opened up her jaw dropped looking at the penthouse. Maya turned around to compliment his place, but was met with Tyriques lips on hers.

She moaned at the softness of his lips. Crouching down he lifted her up carrying her over to his couch. Laying her down he grabbed the straps of her latex jumpsuit. Pulling them down her arms exposing her breasts.

Eagerly he slipped the rest of the clothing down her legs taking her panties off as well.

Slowly he opened her legs seeing her glistening pussy. Kissing up her thighs his mouth finally met her heated center, French kissing it as Maya gripped his braids throwing her head back in ecstasy.

The tea is hot 😝☕️

🏷 Taglist: @usoinked @mselenalovebug @theusotwinzcom @bloodlineslut @urbeez @luvrsluxe @trippinsorrows @catxo @whowrotethenote @uceyliyahh

[the-monstermash]

UNBROKEN BETROTHALS

Aemond Targaryen x Reader

Synopsis: After running away from an unwanted proposal, you find yourself working in a brothel as a cook. When a certain guest takes an odd liking to you, secrets are revealed and betrothals unbroken

Warnings: Angst, Brothels, Mature, 18+, Eventual Smut, Explicit Language

Word Count: 2,187

> **A/N:** AHHHHHH this is my first character fic, and only the second one I've ever been brave enough to post! I also had to post this on mobile because my browser was being wild so sorry for any formatting issues!

The sound of senseless fucking had never seemed to bother you. Easy to filter out, truthfully, and not as traveling as one would think it to be. No, there are many things worse, like for instance the smell. One never takes into account the smell of sex, much less the smell of alcohol fueled, desperate, old haggard men driving the last of their life-force into some disinterested cunny eager to make a coin. Eager to spend a coin, as well.

That's where you came in. Whores work up quite an appetite, one you are all too happy to satisfy, no pun intended. You'd been with Sylvi for years, after you'd run from your family in the dead of night, afraid of the life they'd planned for you.

"Everybody must eat," Sylvi sighed the night she met you, disinterested. "If you will not fuck, you will feed. We earn our keep around these parts, you'll do well to learn quickly."

That was the start of a very standoffish, albeit maternal, relationship. Sylvi had never truly cared for your company, but she cared for you, and that was more than many could say, and more than you could say of any kin. She had taken you in, given you shelter among her girls, and had asked very little of you, knowing your past. She'd seen you into young womanhood, and taught you all you wished to know about life. She was not coddling, nor cruel. She was just what you needed, and it seemed many shared the sentiment.

You were in a daydream as you went about your nightly tasks. The brothel would be closing in a few hours, the girls would need food, and you had really set into it, working quick and messily, spinning and turning about in an attempt to do too many things at once.

Just as you'd turned from the broth and made way to the oven, a wall had manifested itself and blocked your passage. No, not really a wall. Moreso a tree, in it's slender and sharp way. The branches had reached out to hold you, wrapping around your waist and breaking you from your reverie. Suddenly before you was a bare chest, pale in color and smooth like silk. He was taught with muscle, cut like marble. The kind of statue kings pay fortunes for, just to place in their hallway and walk past every morning.

"Sir, no one is meant in the kitchens." You had spoken before you'd had the chance to understand what you were saying, turning from him and back towards your oven to retrieve the loaves. "You'll need to return back to the brothel, Sylvi will not have men in her kitchen."

"'Twas Sylvi that sent me. I've come for wine." The voice was quiet, but in a way that made the ears strain to hear him, instead of drown him out.

Wine? Why would he not stop at the many*tables he'd have to pass to get here?You'd thought. This man must have ill intentions.

Slowly grabbing your bread knife, you turned your head to the side to face the intruder.

Prince Aemond Targaryen.

"My Prince! " The sound of metal rang through the room as you dropped the blade unto the table to turn fully towards him. "My sincerest apologies, my prince! Please forgive me, I had no idea!" You did your best curtsy, and prayed to the Seven that he wouldn't find me impertinent, and would be in a forgiving mood. What you'd just done could be viewed as treason, an attempt on the prince's life.

In the state he was in, which you had noticed, you surmised he just might be in a forgiving mood. He was nude from head to toe, his brow beaded from heat and, hopefully, exertion. The hook of his nose looked sharper as his purple eye followed it to look down at you. He was beautiful, almost overly so. It could only have been Prince Aemond, the eye patch gave him away, even though you'd never seen him before, you'd be a fool not to know the stories of the one-eyed prince. And you'd known him to be a rather fond client of Sylvi's, as she boasted often to the other girls at dinner.

His presence there in your safe haven was unnerving, and once again the sounds of debauchery were drowned out, but now it was as if he'd sucked the noise from the room. He was too tall for the room, it was not made for him. What would a kitchen made for a God even look like? The very notion to build such a thing seemed almost blasphemous to you. He was looking at you like you didn't even exist, almost through you. His stare was too deep for that of a stranger, but perhaps he had to look so intensely because his lack of an eye.

He finally cleared his throat, as if it would've pained him to repeat himself.

"The wine, yes. We are a humble establishment, so you will have to be forgiving with our selection. I'll have our best sent to you at once!" And with that, he let out a low hum and left you to your duties.

You'd quickly managed a carafe and two goblets, and sent it through with a boy, with strict instructions to deliver it to the prince. You'd have delivered it yourself, but as you did not know where he was, and did not have the time searching the brothel for him, you'd relented to send it through a lord's boy, and hope he was competent enough to manage it.

As the sounds died out from the front of the house, you'd began shuffling out with bowls of broth and loaves for the girl. They took it gratefully, each dropping two coins in your hands and sitting to eat, sharing small talk and whatever gossip they had learned from their clients.

"Ser Lannister had quite a bit to share tonight. He speaks of war. Do you know what war means?" Lauryn spoke excitedly.

"Rapers." Another girl, Cate called from farther away, monotone. "Foreign men coming into the city in siege, taking over the villages."

"It means more clients, Cate." Sylvi's voice quickly silenced the small talk, as she walked to the table and sat, ready to be served her complimentary meal. Her place at the table, as always, was already set, and she reached for her wine immediately. "War means the king calls for more men. They leave their wives, and with no one to warm their bed, they come to us."

"Precisely." Lauryn agreed readily. "If war comes, I welcome it. I don't give a shit who sits the throne, as long as the crown prospers enough to put gold in my pocket." She lifted her goblet, a smirk on her face at her own clever musing.

"I'll drink to that." Another girl called from the back, which caused an rupture of quiet laughter through the room.

As you passed to fill an empty cup, Sylvi grabbed you arm, and pulled you in close enough to whisper.

"I require a moment with you." At your confirming nod, she raised from her seat and left to her room. You were quick to follow, leaving the carafe with the girls, who took it readily and saluted your departure.

Once in her lavish rooms, Sylvi sat at her vanity and peered at you through the mirror, an air of drama filled the room and caused you to rock on your toes in an attempt to soothe yourself.

"I see you've met the Prince."

Oh. You'd thought surely this would be a serious conversation, but as you had spoken so few words to the man, you could not see how possibly she could have taken issue with your conversation. Unless the prince had told her about your grabbing the knife, in which you were in deep shit.

"Yes, ma'am." You sat in an armchair and folded your hands in your lap. "He came to ask for wine, and I had some sent with a squire, I believe."

"He seemed to take a liking to you." She brushed off your words just as she now did her hair, her lips pressed into a tight line that betrayed her nonchalant tone. "He asked for you, the next time he graced us with his patronage."

Your throat tightened and your stomach lurched. This can't be. Your conversations were short, and you had nearly insulted him, and then only half obeyed his order by sending someone in your stead with the wine. Perhaps he hoped for a moment alone so he could punish you for your insolence. Perhaps he was just playing at a joke, and Sylvi had taken it for more than he had meant it. Though he did not seem to you a joking type, and Sylvi seemed sure in her words.

Would she sell you to the prince? It hardly seemed as though you would be in a position to refuse, should he insist on a private meeting with you. But perhaps Sylvi had a sway with the prince that others did not.

"I...don't understand, ma'am. I do not-"

"Of course, I told him you were not that type of girl." She reassured. "He listens to me, you know. I'm one of the only he bears his heart to." Her voice took on a dreamier tone. "I'm the only woman he's known."

"I had no idea." I spoke distantly, still reeling at the idea of being asked for personally, and by a man of such high standing.

"What did you say to him? When he came to the kitchens. I sent him for wine, and he comes back without wine, and with a sudden interest in you" She turns around now, her eyes appraising and scrutinizing.

"I did not say anything, ma'am. I had mistaken him for a mere lord at first, I told him to leave. And then he ordered the wine, and I told him it would be done! I promise, there was nothing untoward, and no advances."

You spoke at a mile a minute to plead your case. It was clear this woman had an attachment to the prince, and you would not give the impression that you were there to threaten it. Sylvi was a kind woman, but a burn so scalding might just scorch her heart enough to cast you out.

"I swear it to you, ma'am. I've no interest in the prince, and he none in me. If anything, he only wishes to punish me privately for the way I behaved before I knew he was the prince." She nodded at your words.

"Nonetheless, I let him know you were not available. He did not take the refusal well, but such is his way. Dragons are not used to the word 'no'." She readjusted and smiled at you. "It's nothing to worry at, my dear. Just go about your duties, and do not speak to the prince again. He'll forget you in time." You nodded and stood to leave.

"Thank you. You've done such a kindness for me, and I owe you my life. I would never make such a slight against you, please know that." Her dismissing nod and small tired smile was enough for you to turn and take your leave.

The women had filled their bellies of wine and broth, and some began to make way to their beds, others staying around to gossip. You approached the lingering girls, grabbing a loaf from the table and sitting on a chair to eat.

"So, will you?" Lauryn, who still remained, asked you, as if the incomplete question was all you needed to know. When you only responded with a questioning look, she rolled her eyes and scoffed. "Will you fuck him? Everyone here heard the prince and Sylvi's clash. He wanted you. He begged for you!" The other girls began giggling and wiggling their eyebrows at you. "It drove her mad! He doesn't want her anymore."

"Not wanting Sylvi is one thing, but wanting you is another." Another girl, Maria, a Dornish delicacy, played with her hair as she spoke with a natural coolness. "If you don't want to, of course you shouldn't, but you should consider it. A prince would pay handsomely, perhaps even enough for you to move on."

"I would not do that to Sylvi, I would not do it at all. I wouldn't even know how, I'm not versed in the...fetishes of men."

"She told him such, but he would not hear it. He asked for an exception to be made, perhaps a private arrangement. If anything, it seemed to appeal to him more, knowing you were still untouched." Lauryn jumped back in, eager to return back to her teasing.

"I would only lay with a man I chose. I did not have the option before I left home, but I do now, and I will choose myself who I bed." And with that, you stood to leave, retiring to your room for the night.

[ekkkkey]

there will be games! (chapter II)

summary: Cassandra, a quiet and loyal wife to the much older Senator Tiberius, accidentally attracts the unsettling attention of Emperor Caracalla at a lavish feast hosted by Senator Thraex...

warnings: 18+ minors dni, noncon, dub-con, non-consensual drug use, when the emperor is a bit insane, mommy issues, daddy issues, every kind of issues—this little shit has them all (he’s so cute)

word count: 5k words

chapter I

«No woman could feel safe if her beauty or name aroused the emperor's curiosity.»

-Suetonius, The Twelve Caesars (Caligula, Chapter 36)

⋆ ⋆ ☼ ⋆ ⋆

She didn't want to get out of bed, didn't want to leave their room, all she wanted was to go home. Not to their new villa in Rome, not even to her husband's old house. Cassandra longed for her childhood home, with her father and sisters, where she could always be the little girl.

"You're an early bird today," Tiberius said, waking and stretching towards her.

Her heart skipped, her palms sweaty with worry.

"Those who apologize properly deserve forgiveness, don't they, little bird?" - another voice, deceptively tender but promising nothing good, echoed in her mind.

Cassandra wrapped herself tighter in the sheet, licking her lips, hiding her body from her husband, not wanting his touch.

"I slept poorly. And I don't feel well. When will we return home?"

Tiberius got up, his brief morning tenderness replaced by his usual sour mood.

"When the games end. Not before. I've got business."

Normally gentle and shy, she never argued with him, but this time, she tossed the sheet aside and jumped up, chasing after him, desperate to talk face-to-face. Her hands shook. She pictured herself – pale, nervous, dark circles under her eyes, hair a mess, more like a madwoman than a loving wife. Ashamed of her sudden anger, Cassandra covered up again.

"I feel awful, I'm nauseous, could it be a child, Tiberius?" she tried to elicit some sympathy, pressing her hand to her stomach.

She couldn't stand another moment in the palace.

"Tell me, wife, what troubles you so much?" - he took a step forward. She had never truly feared him, but suddenly realized that after yesterday, both he disgusted her and she feared him. It was his fault! Everything that happened to her was his fault!

"I'm really not well."

"And where better than the emperor's palace to find a good physician?"

Realizing her words were futile, she slumped back on the bed's edge, and Tiberius knelt in front of her, resting his cheek against her leg.

"The emperor," he began, "Emperor Caracalla, he's ill. His mind is rotting, just like his body, so you won't find better physicians here. Should I call someone for you?"

Cassandra couldn't breathe, pulling away from her husband, standing up in a daze, not caring about her nudity. Even when servants walked in, she didn't cover up, lost in dark thoughts.

Emperor Caracalla's mind was afflicted by a disease? What kind of disease? She knew nothing about medicine and couldn't even guess. Did this make him more dangerous, or was his nature already cruel and violent? His smirking face flashed in her mind, his mood swings, his smile turning to a sneer...

Cassandra flinched when someone touched her from behind. She quickly scolded herself.

"Stop, he won't burst into your chambers while you're with your husband!" - she repeated, but she didn't believe it, if he wanted, he'd take her right in front of Tiberius, and no one would stop him.

She spent the entire morning trying to comfort herself, but her anxiety only grew. First, Tiberius noticed the purple bite on her skin. She managed to excuse it, saying he'd had too much wine and hadn't been gentle with her in bed. He believed her.

She was horrified again when the slave girls began to dress her.

"This isn't my clothing!" - the fabrics were too vivid and fine, and they...they smelled of aromatic oils and powder.

"Not yours, true, but we'll be here for some time, and until your clothes arrive from the villa, you need something to wear, don't you?" her husband murmured, looking at her like a piece of art. "You can't just walk around naked, can you?"

She would have preferred to parade through the palace entirely naked rather than willingly wear the clothes and jewels Caracalla had sent her, fully aware of how pleased he would be. Yet, the problem was, her nude debut would have left him equally pleased.

The stands were louder than ever, and only when they entered the imperial box did she understand why. The Colosseum was flooded!

They were late due to her distraction and sluggishness; if she had her way, they wouldn't have come at all, but there she was, seated behind Lucilla once again.

Despite the excitement of the ship battles, the clanging of metal, her eyes kept falling on the red-haired head before her.

Neither emperor acknowledged their arrival, too absorbed in the spectacle, and while Geta later gave her husband a nod of recognition, Caracalla didn't even turn around. Anger simmered in her chest. For him, last night was nothing, but for her...For her, it had haunted her all night and morning. All her thoughts were trapped in those wretched, humiliating moments.

Why did he seem to have forgotten while she, cursedly, remembered every touch? Remembered his hands were soft and hot, his scent sweet, almost intoxicating... And, of course, she remembered the bitter humiliation from his words, from how he touched her, and that Emperor Geta had watched it all.

Cassandra pressed hard on her palm where the wound was healing, trying to push away the memories. She wouldn't let him occupy her mind as well.

Yet, she couldn't relax, pandemonium broke out in the box when the ships came too close and an arrow hit the column between the emperors' chairs. The last thing she heard before Tiberius pulled her out was Emperor Geta's piercing scream.

The palace was buzzing with unbearable noise, the feast meant for evening had transitioned into the day, though the servants were not fully prepared.

Cassandra stood by a column, wine cup in hand. Her husband had left her again, off with General Acacius. The emperors were nowhere to be seen, nor were most of the Senate.

"How many do you think will be executed today?" she heard a quiet female whisper.

"I wouldn't be surprised if the emperor ordered all the gladiators on the field to be gutted," another voice answered, "you know how he is, insatiable!" A burst of giggling followed, and Cassandra stopped listening, embarrassed by the direction of their conversation.

She understood that for many, winning the emperors’ favor was a dream. But for her? She was a married woman who had spent her youth cultivating a sense of duty, loyalty, and responsibility. Why, then, had the gods abandoned her? Faithful and devoted as she was, they had thrown her to their earthly incarnations to be torn apart.

"More wine, domina?" a slave girl dutifully refilled her goblet.

The girl was young, dark-skinned, and beautiful, with large, intelligent eyes. Cassandra noticed the gilded collar around her slender neck and suddenly felt an invisible, soft, and hot hand squeezing her own throat. In a rush, she took a large gulp, wincing at the bitter taste, then handed the cup back.

"No more, thank you," she said, licking her lips nervously, knowing she wouldn't find peace in this cacophony.

"Are you not well, domina?" the girl asked, worry in her voice.

"I just...I need some time alone," she muttered quickly, stepping away from the column, only to stagger and clutch her head. What was happening to her?

"Do you want me to take you somewhere quiet, domina? You can rest and come back later," the girl didn't wait for an answer, guiding her by the elbow out of the room. Such audacity from a slave was unheard of, but Cassandra was too rattled and her head was spinning.

"Where are we going?"

They navigated past the throne room into a small, almost secretive chamber. The ceiling wasn't as high, the columns much less grand, the lighting dim and gloomy, and in the center stood a white altar, adorned with gold. In her parents' home, next to her room, there was a similar one, much more modest, of course, but dear to her heart, where she had prayed to her late mother.

"Wait outside," the words were both a sentence for her and an order for the slave.

She wanted to scream. Of course, he was here. No one was to be trusted, even the slave's kindness was a trap—cruel and painful. Was she truly nothing more than a prisoner here, a powerless plaything to entertain the young emperor?

Every time she saw him, he seemed like a different person. He was dressed in black and gold, with a golden laurel crown and an earring. Gold, gold, gold! She despised its gleam, for in it, she saw him.

Huddled against the wall, she stood frozen, afraid to move. The emperor did seem different this time—melancholic and contemplative. His pale eyes were unusually clear and sober as they met hers.

"What did you tell your husband?" His voice was different too: calm, measured. That made it all the more terrifying. Cassandra couldn’t read his mood from his face.

"Nothing, Caesar," she whispered, afraid to speak louder, as if his calm depended on it.

Caracalla turned to the altar, studying it as if seeing it for the first time. She held her breath, watching the golden laurel shimmer in the torchlight.

"Come closer."

His tone was pensive, his light brows furrowed, his lips pressed into a thin line. The moment she stepped closer, the emperor’s gaze shifted to her. It slid from her neck, lower, along the colorful tunic she wore.

"My mother used to wear this," he said. To her surprise, his right hand was bare of rings as he brushed the fabric over her chest lightly, almost tenderly. His eyes stayed locked on hers.

Though still afraid, it felt different from yesterday. Worse.

Why had he forced her to come here? Why had he dressed her in the clothes of his dead mother? Cassandra cast a desperate glance at the door, but he noticed immediately. The corner of his mouth twitched.

"She often came here," he continued, "prayed to the gods," his words were vague, her thoughts growing heavier, "do you pray often?"

"Yes, Emperor," she replied, though her mind was growing heavier, duller, as though lulled into a haze that numbed her fear.

"When was the last time?"

The conversation was bizarre, so unlike what had happened the night before. Feeling almost drunk, she answered without thinking, and that's when everything started to spiral.

"Today, when that arrow almost hit you," she said, breathing heavily, it was hot, like under the midday sun, "I prayed for the next one to hit."

Her tormented mind knew he would kill her now. That Caracalla would carry out his threats, destroy her and her family. But instead, he laughed.

Grinning, he patted her shoulder as if she’d told an excellent joke. Then the sharp pain of his hand striking her cheek brought her back to reality. He had slapped her! Tears welled in her eyes, her lips trembling, but she didn’t have time to cry. The emperor grabbed her face, squeezing her jaw painfully.

"You did drink it, didn't you? That wine they brought you?" Caracalla whispered, his voice low as he leaned closer, still holding her face. "Oh, you did! I can see it. Your dilated pupils, that empty stare, struggling to think straight, hard to control your tongue? I get it," in a mock tender gesture, he caressed the cheek he'd just slapped, "for those words, your pretty head should be on a spike outside the palace, shouldn't it? But you know the rules, if you apologize properly, I forgive."

With his thumb, he drew circles on her reddened cheek, moved to her lips, tracing their outline, forcing her to open her mouth by pressing down.

"You understand now, don’t you? The aphrodisiac in the wine you drank," he pushed his finger inside, making her lips encircle it, "I wanted to play differently, but..." his face twisted with anger, "everything went terribly wrong."

Her already rapid heartbeat quickened further, she whimpered helplessly, wanting to cry. He had made her take the drug and was now exploiting her helplessness, shamelessly tormenting her mouth.

"You should say thank you, shouldn’t you? Or did you enjoy last night more? Shall I call my brother?" he chuckled, once again reverting to his usual self.

Caracalla released her face but immediately pinned her against the altar, tilting his head up and gazing at her from beneath his lowered lashes, as if admiring her, smiling.

The torchlight reflected in his eyes, his tongue flicked between his red lips in anticipation. His hand caressed her shoulder, then he removed the pin holding the fabric.

"Did the old senator fail to notice that his dear little wife isn't really his anymore?" he sneered, his fingers trailing down to the mark he'd bitten into her skin the night before, pressing down, aiming to cause as much discomfort as possible. Caracalla's breath grew heavier, his eyes followed every flicker of emotion on her face, every slight movement she made.

"I told him it was his fault... that he drank too much..." The confession fell from her lips without thought, her mind too clouded to hold it back.

"Ah! How unfortunate, and once again, the Senate takes credit for the emperor's work! But you'll comfort me, won't you?" His lips were so close, she felt his hot, uneven breath, saw his pupils, as black as hers, the smeared shadows making his eyes feverishly gleam with madness. Her gaze only darted down to his lips for a moment... and he pressed against her, pulling her into a kiss.

His hands seize her waist, gripping and tormenting, not just her body but her very soul. If she could cry, she would, but there's no energy left, only his greedy, hot mouth. To her, a kiss was something far more intimate, far more sacred than carnal union, promising tenderness and love...And even that he steals from her, kissing her shamelessly, wetly, pressing so hard she feels his hardness against her thigh.

"Let's continue our lovely conversation," he pulls back, his mouth trailing down to her neck, kissing and biting, "tell me, did Tiberius ever get you this wet?" His hand slides between her legs, rubbing through the fabric. "Even once?"

"No," she whimpers, trying to close her legs.

"Keep acting innocent, and I'll call the Praetorians to keep your legs spread wide, is that what you want?" his rough whisper burns her ear, his earring brushing her lips.

Cassandra shook her head, public humiliation was something she couldn't handle.

"Good. Obedient and well-behaved, just as a respectable matron should be," he purrs, his hand lazily caressing, more relishing her embarrassment than her body, "if you want, you can call me your husband!"

His sharp laugh slices through the narrow room.

"Undress," he commanded, his laughter gone, "I'm not going to fuck you in my mother's clothes, am I?"

She thought after all the pain, the threats, the violence, he couldn't hurt her more, but each time, it still cuts deep. With trembling hands, she hurriedly sheds her tunic, then her undergarments, laying them out as treasures, while he watches. His gaze is fixed, nostrils flaring, Cassandra sees him stroking himself under his tunic. Her cheeks burn, her clouded mind finally grasps it - he's going to take her right here, in this holy place, before ancestors and gods. Her soul will be damned, even in death!

"Touch yourself, feel how wet you are," his voice is husky, breathless, "you should be grateful to me for that, shouldn't you? That's what I've been talking about."

Head bowed, she slides her fingers between her legs, horror dawning as she realizes he's right. But why? The drug? The notion that he aroused her with his aggressive kisses, his sharp bites, his lewd whispers, she dismisses in disgust. She didn't want him, she hated him!

Seeing her shock, Caracalla broke into a smile, fully aware of her thoughts. Abandoning his arousal, the emperor circled her nipple with his thumb, watching it harden under his touch.

"It's not surprising your husband doesn't stir your passions, look at yourself," his hand traces down her body, over her breasts, stomach, to her mound, pausing again between her legs, "you're more his daughter than his wife!"

His fingers gather her moisture, rubbing, making her despise her body's response.

"So, will you take your emperor?" he asks, not for permission but to keep the game going.

She can only nod, there's no other choice.

"Say it out loud," Caracalla whispers raggedly, pushing his fingers deep inside her. Now she understands why he took off his rings.

"Yes, Caesar, I'll take whatever you give me," with those words, the last vestiges of her pride are smashed, her genuine compassion and naivety destroyed.

He takes her with a sudden, harsh thrust, only to slow down to a lazy, almost indulgent rhythm. The air is stifling, hot; sweat drips down her thighs. The only sounds are the crackle of the torch, his ragged breathing, and the vulgar, wet slaps of skin meeting skin.

As if to disgrace her further, he grips the back of her neck, forcing her to look into his eyes as he picks up the pace again. Here he is—the protector and father of his people—bestowing his gifts. He's still clothed, no need to undress; the chain around his neck jingles with each movement, his crown slipping forward.

"Doesn’t this feel good, sweetling? Don’t you feel good?"

"Cassandra," she whispers, "my name is Cassandra."

He stops, looking at her with surprise, as if seeing her for the first time.

"Is it really that important for me to know your name, Cassandra?" he teases, playfully biting her earlobe. "Has the little wife fallen in love?"

How could he think that? Anger surges within her. Her attempt to claim some dignity crumbles! But her thoughts vanish as he thrusts into her sharply, fully, making her gasp and dig her nails into his shoulders. It’s the first time she’s touched him willingly. Her simple gesture spurred him on even more, forcing a quiet whimper from her as she buried her face in his shoulder.

"Next time your senator fucks you, think of me, little bird, understand?" his whisper turns into a moan. She's mesmerized by his parted red lips, his light lashes fluttering, his chest heaving. A few rough thrusts later, his grip on her waist loosens, and his seed floods within her.

He lets her go, adjusting his clothes, his breathing still heavy, but his gaze has changed. Having gotten what he wanted, Caracalla loses interest.

"If you're lucky, my seed will take root, and you'll give your husband an heir!" he chuckles, playfully flicking her nose as if she were a pet. "The wench will help you dress, don't forget, there’s a feast to attend!"

Caracalla leaves her, trembling, bare, and shattered. Tears finally come, and without strength, she slides down the wall, hugging herself. The worst is the sticky feeling between her thighs he left behind. If she were to conceive...

"Domina, you shouldn't sit like this, please stand, I'll help you," the slave girl who brought her here shows no emotion, no trace of sympathy in her eyes.

"Leave me!"

"Staying here is not an option, one must respect the dead," the girl nods at the inscription on the altar.

"Lucius Septimius Severus"

He had defiled her beside his father's ashes! Now, she lets her sobs escape freely.

⋆ ⋆ ☼ ⋆ ⋆

Hey! Thank you so much for the sweet feedback on the last chapter, I didn’t expect so many people to like my work, I’m really grateful! 💋 I promise the next chapter will be up faster (but it also depends on how this one does, your feedback means a lot to me and really inspires me).

[tinycoffeeroom]

thank god for bikes | arthurtv

inspired by @mrstelevision 🤍

face claim: steph bohrer ♡

request: here !

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

📍 london

liked by gkbarry, max_balegde, and 98,302 others

y/nsworld about last night ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

view all 3,392 comments

user1 i'm in love with you

gkbarry cant believe i didn't even get photo creds ↳ y/nsworld please forgive my sins oh great gkbarry

user2 y/n!! i think the guys u mentioned on ur twt was george clarke and arthurtv!! arthur posted on twt about george getting hit by a bike on a wall!! ↳ y/nsworld !! let me check his twt <3

liked by y/nsworld, wroetoshaw and 29,492 others

arthurtv first pic taken moments before disaster (at least this one won't leave a scar)

georgeclarkeey don't know what was worse, the bike ptsd or you dribbling down your shirt ↳ arthurtv your mum doesn't mind my dribbling ↳ y/nsworld the dribbling was funnier to watch tbh ↳ georgeclarkeey take that mr television

gkbarry i didn't even notice it was you guys hiding in the corner ↳ georgeclarkeey just wanted some alone time with my boyfriend x ↳ arthurtv stop telling people i'm your boyfriend!!

👤 max_balegde liked by max_balegde, arthurtv and 38,028 others

y/nsworld wine in coffee cups and classic literature in a park, my idea of heaven ꕤ

max_balegde got home off my head and now andrews mad i've ruined dinner plans ↳ y/nsworld andrew baby im so sorry :( ↳ andrew_spanndy could never blame you xx ↳ max_balegde god just date her already wooooow

gkbarry regret introducing the two of you, my poor ears will never recover from this ↳ y/nsworld thats your fault for putting two professional yappers together xx

arthurtv pretty sure that's bride you're reading... wouldn't call werewolf smut classic literature ↳ y/nsworld and how do YOU know what's in the book? 🤨

👤 arthur_tv, max_balegde liked by y/nsworld, arthurnfhill and 30,395 others

georgeclarkeey totally normal photo to promote the newest useless hotline ep x

max_balegde rip my purple crocs... can't believe y/n stole them right off my feet... ↳ user2 !!! y/n at the arthurtv podcast recording?? my y/ntv senses are tingling ↳ user3 i'm pretty sure she was there bc her and max are friends... ♥️ y/nsworld ↳ user2 they've never randomly had their friends at recordings, dw you'll join the y/ntv cult soon

📍 ibiza

👤 georgeclarkeey, chrismd, arthurnfhill liked by arthurnfhill, y/nsworld and 45,028 others

arthurtv thank you spotify for inviting us out! (photo cred: y/nsworld)

user2 i am going to scream from the rooftops, y/ntv'ers unite!!

y/nsworld should receive compensation for having to look at george's bare grippers the entire weekend ↳ arthurtv will bring round some wine this weekend ↳ y/nsworld good boy ↳ user2 ... y'all are fucking with me atp

📍 ibiza

liked by arthurtv, gkbarry and 83,028 others

y/nsworld beach bum 𓇼

gkbarry happiness looks so good on you ↳ y/nsworld i love the bones of you

user2 !! WHO TOOK THE PHOTO I FEEL INSANE ↳ y/nsworld my friend! :)

📍 ibiza

liked by y/nsworld, georgeclarkeey and 49,204 others

arthurtv decided to stay in the sunshine a few more days :)

user3 user2 i fear you may be onto something ↳ user2 i'm gonna eat glass. like i am actually putting shards in my mouth rn ↳ y/nsworld omg pls don't

y/nsworld looking good mr television ↳ arthurtv why thank you miss world

liked by arthurtv, max_balegde and 83,028 others

y/nsworld use code ynsworld for 15% off ⋆⭒˚｡⋆

max_balegde leaving my bf for you rn. ↳ andrew_spanndy not if i leave you first ↳ y/nsworld i can date both of you at the same time xx

arthurtv djsidjief djg ↳ y/nsworld you ok mr television?

y/nsworld didn't even think about what i was wearing when i went to go see mr hill sing about cold coffee, sorry guys you got the wrong arthur xx

POST DELETED

👤 y/nsworld liked by y/nsworld, arthurnfhill and 93,294 others

arthurtv someone forgot to change over to their finsta so i guess it's hard launch time... somehow got the most gorgeous girl on earth to agree to date me, must be my fantastic sense of humour

y/nsworld lbr most of them already knew, we weren't exactly subtle ↳ arthurtv speak for yourself xx

theburntchip it's the big ol' hog you got in them trousers ♥️ y/nsworld ↳ arthurtv ah yes forgot about that

max_balegde take care of her or me and andrew are snatching her real quick ↳ y/nsworld ... i may have to do some rethinking

user2 i can't believe i was right... VINDICATION ♥️ arthurtv, y/nsworld

👤 arthur_tv liked by arthurtv, gkbarry and 104,845 others

y/nsworld told him i forgot to change to finsta but really i just wanted to show that i bagged a hottie ✮⋆˙

georgeclarkeey still can't believe you snatched him from right under my nose ↳ y/nsworld we're still in the honeymoon phase so i may give him back x ↳ arthurtv what the fuck

gkbarry crying into a pint of ice cream thanks xx ↳ y/nsworld you know you're the love of my life xx

y/nsworld also user2 sorry for gaslighting you xx ↳ user2 i have never been so happy to be gaslighted could do a happy lil cry ↳ y/nsworld our fave y/ntv'er we love you ♡

[drgnflyteabox]

Imagine you're a sheltered woman from New York in the 1850s. By the time you're a young lady both your parents are dead, so you have no choice but to leave your cushy little family home, get on a train and meet your only living relative. You're kind of useless, bookish and naive. You've never experienced anything but comfort. Your uncle tells you he doesn't want you around, but as a woman you can't do much on your own, and what could you do? You're as helpless as a lamb.

Your uncle betroths you to a man in Oregon, and ships you off to travel the oregon trail with all your treasure (jewelry, bonds, antiques, etc). The only thing is that he can't just send you on your own- you've only been in the real world the past few days to travel to him!!! You've been an anxious little hermit, and who's gonna carry your trunk full of romance books?

Your uncle hires security company 141 to escort you through the grueling journey, and you're none the wiser that company 141 doesn't exist, but outlaw gang Ghost team does...

Anyways I neeeeeeed more western and cowboy 141 and I've been playing rdr2 lately soo

This could work for any of the boys :')

Gaz who's just like your fairytale men. Kind, considerate, kisses your hand. He gives you a little extra bacon in the morning when you whine and picks wildflowers for you when he sees a pretty one (like you). You're defenseless against his charms.

Price who's...... the embodiment of your daddy issues. Spoiler? But you grew up so sheltered because your dad believed your family was cursed, and made you scared to be in the world. Price is so big and solid and comforting, older and bearlike... you definitely could call him daddy :')

Johnny who's got you flustered and blushing the entire way, even when you're miserable, when you're beyond travel weary. He's carefree about touch and space, and for someone who grew up locked in a single space for so long, you're like putty at the simplest touches from him

Simon's a wildcard. He wears a bandana, which makes everyone but the company nervous, and he's always riding off. You rarely see him, but you're mesmerized by his pale eyes and pale lashes, his scars and his story. He kind of hates you for how you don't seem to know like... anything. He let's the others care for you, counting the days until they can meet up with Kate and abandon you for dead with all your ma and pas jewelry and valuables and onto the next robbery... unless (0)o(0)

Also the guy you're meant to marry is graves LOL. Your family is deep in the railway industry and filthy rich and graves is buying up land and planting vineyards. Hes getting rich off of wine :') that's the story in my head

Plsss forgive me if this has already been written!!! I had a dream about it and I couldn't remember if it was something I'd read, or something I thought up. I looked around tumblr and ao3 for anything but couldn't find anything. Pleaseeeeee contact me if its your idea, I'm terrified of accidentally plagiarizing lol

[boop-le-snoot]

kinktober #4

Light My Fire

kinktober day four | temperature play & monsterfucking (?) | cw: 18+, self-explanatory. Good!Loki is a Jötun and Avenger!You have fire powers. Rather fluffy, just two dorks in love goofin' | word count 2k | click here for full list of planned fics | author's note under the cut |

“Darling, are you sure this is a good idea?”

“You are occasionally a little over 8 feet tall and very cold and blue. I am average tall but set myself on fire regularly without repercussions. I think we passed these sorts of questions a good while ago.” You pointedly bit into your toast, watching Loki watching you over the rim of his teacup.

Why did he insist on having tea from one specific antique tea set - and having to refill the cup at least five times in the process - instead of getting a mug like a normal person, you did not know.

Slumped over your breakfast in your Garfield pajamas, you eyed your boyfriend pat the corner of his mouth with his monogrammed kerchief before he vanished it away and stood up. His green button-up clung to his chest deliciously.

“Such a way with words.” Loki chuckled and patted over to place a soft kiss on your forehead. “But I see your point. We could either seriously harm each other or end up having a wonderful, one-of-a-kind experience.” He tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. You nodded. He stole a piece of toast and pointed it at your nose, tapping the appendage gently with the hard crust. “And Tony would never forgive us if we at least did not try.”

“Since when do you care about what Tony thinks?”

Loki gave you an impish look. “He's not all terrible. Remember the time he 3-D printed an exact replica of Mjolnir and I haunted Thor the entire day with it?”

“Thor had a mental breakdown.” You replied dryly even as your mouth involuntarily curled into a smirk.

Loki, however, gave a wide smile. “Uh-uh. Tony filmed the entire thing start to finish.”

A chuckle broke out of you before you could stop it. You liked Thor, you ready did, but that had been just a single instance of mischief in the multiple-century long prank war between the brothers. The blonde had gotten you several times in the process of getting back at Loki and you would be lying if you didn't feel vindicated for all those times you had found glitter in odd places and worse...

Not that you yourself lacked your fair share of questionable life decisions. Having fiery super-powers, being an Avenger, being Loki's girlfriend, challenging Natasha to a knife throwing competition... The list goes on. So what if you wanted your icy boyfriend to be icy in bed? So what if he wanted your fiery self be fiery in bed? They do say opposites attract and yada-yada-yada...

“Makes me wonder what the fire giants look like,” you said absent-mindedly later that night while the two of you lounged in your oversized tub. You rolled a small fireball in your palm as Loki sipped his wine.

“Like demons,” he snorted. “Nothing attractive about them.”

“Some would say demons are attractive,” you shrugged. “I think Jötuns are attractive.” Using your free hand, you squeezed a slender, muscular thigh. Loki flexed it and you ran your knuckles over the hard muscle. “Although you're the only one I've seen. Might have to tell Tony to ban any more from Earth least they come to steal all the women away, being this handsome.”

Loki's cool hand reached up over your stomach to idly toy with your breast. “Is that so? Is my Asgardian form not as stimulating?” He mused.

You pushed into the touch, purring. “There's just more of you to love, babe.”

His unmistakable laugh filled up the bathroom, genuine amusement as he flicked at your nipple and leaned down to kiss your neck. “I do not think that is anatomically possible.”

“Pfft,” you scoffed. “Ye of little faith! Have you been on the internet? Anything is possible, provided there is an adequate amount of lube and some leverage.”

The internet - surprise, surprise - was wrong. Loki expressed an unfair amount of amusement at this, and you daredsay, even gloated a little bit. Shutting him up in this form was harder than when he was regular Loki, but not doable. It was, as you both had agreed, a learning curve.

He was cold to touch. Not as a metal pole at a ski resort as you had previously thought, but enough to cause a pleasant, clean chill to settle in the back of your skull as you took the tip of his hard, blue cock intro your mouth. That was about as much as you could fit without going full Chelsea Smile around it. Your hands, kept warm by your powers, slid down his shaft, tender fingertips tracing the textured ridges covering every inch of his skin.

They were truly everywhere, and they were sensitive. Splayed on the various animal skins in front of the fireplace, Loki was a sight to behold: all cerulean blue and raven-haired, red eyes lidded with desire as they observed your exploration with mirrored curiosity. As you warm hands curled around him, a low hiss left his lips.

Attempting to say, “did that hurt?” with your mouth so full was a disaster. Loki chuckled anyway, and brought a large, cool palm to rest atop your head.

“No, darling,” his voice, in this form little more than a low growl, did something indecent to your insides. “Feels incredible.” A sigh as you swirled your tongue around the sensitive head. “I surely wish you'd let me at least keep my Asgardian measurements...”

Yes, but no. It would have been more practical, sure, but it wasn't the full Jötun experience you were seeking. With a wet pop, you dislodged your mouth from his cock to delight in his full-body shiver. To remedy the lack of your mouth, heat began to radiate from your palms; roughly the same temperature as the inside of your mouth.

“Not unless you are on board with me keeping the fire lukewarm,” you teased gently, watching his red eyes darken to a lovely burgundy. Slowly, you slid your hands over his lubricated flesh.

Loki was generous with his microexpressions in this form, with him being larger allowing for easier observation. Lust, love, yearning, a dash of insecurity and concern. He was your Loki through and through, simply blue.

“I fear I may have less allocated space for patience in this form,” he mused.

Captivating. His reclined position and the fire dancing over his skin, the horns growing tall and strong above his forehead - the helmet imitation did them no justice - Loki was a vision to behold. You wanted to eat him like the world's most exotic ice lolly and ride that fanged mouth until you forgot your own name and knew only his.

“Fuck,” you eloquently summarised your train of thought just as your hands stroked him to full mast. Loki merely tilted his head. Knowing that look well, you batted your eyelashes and gave him the final stroke before shamelessly climbing up onto his lap.

You wore nothing but a thigh-length slip of fine Asgardian silk, just like you knew he liked. Your hot, glistening cunt connected with the shaft of his cock as you settled above it, eliciting a sigh of wanton relief. Loki felt like a bag of frozen goods. You wanted to press him against everything sore.

His large, cold palm stroked the side of your face.

“Mmm,” you leaned into it, unconsciously shifting your hips to press closer to the textured hardness of his cock. It twitched as your wetness joined the spit you'd previously covered it in. Some adjusting was to be had - Loki waited patiently as you found your spot, and used his other hand to make you sit down just right. With that first, slow, slick grind, both of you were gone.

It came naturally. Loki's hands on your hips, on your face, sliding your slick cunt over the tip of his own leaking cock. His abs flexed with each measured movement; you kept your palms in closed fists, knowing better than to open them when you were this riled up.

Hurting each other was both of yours' biggest fears and it showed in the way you'd swallowed some of your moans upon feeling the beginnings of a spark crackle on your tongue. Loki refused to take his darkening eyes off your face for he would definitely lose himself in the moment and do... Something.

The intensity of your coupling grew. Your cunt provided ample lubrication on the account of your clitoris receiving all that extra stimulation from the ridges and valleys covering his cock. On harder thrusts, the very tip of his cock snagged the edge of your entrance, causing him to growl and you to whine when your hungry hole was forced to relent and clench around nothing.

It was exhilarating torture. Your cries of pleasure, as usual, only spurred the Jötun prince on.

As you arched your back and moaned loudly and brokenly up to the ceiling at a particularly hard thrust, Loki's deep growling added to the delightful cacophony of sex. He firmly held your hips, sharp nails digging into the meat of your ass, and pushed you down on his cock, missing your hole by sheer luck.

“Come for me, darling,” he rasped in that icy-sharp, husky voice. “I can feel your little quim begging for me. I may not be able to resist fucking you if you cry for me so sweetly.”

Never being the one to disobey reasonable orders, you and your abused pussy gushed your agreements as heat burst from your lower stomach and spread into your body and limbs. Loki's drawn-out hiss had you weakly trying to scramble, to get away from him least your elevated temperature burn the Jötun, but he held steadfast.

Eyes so deeply red they were almost black, Loki looked you directly in the face before his cock twitched for the last time.amd coated his chest and your front with an abundance of silver seed. His body shook with restraint even when his mouth had fallen lax and eyes lidded low; he let you rock forward to rest a hand on his hard chest as both of you caught your breath.

Giving into your body's demands, you fell ahead, uncaring of the mess. Immediately, a cold arm draped itself over you. A moment of silence was had. You licked your dry lips, sputtering somewhat as sticky - but not unpleasant - seed made way into your mouth.

“Are you alright?” Loki drawled, still breathless.

You briefly contemplated the phrasing of what you were about to say, but in the end decided to be completely honest as you two had sworn to be to each other.

“Your come tastes like snow. Literal snow.”

You heard Loki's heart skip a beat and then his chest shook, the chuckle as incredulous as your discovery.

“Noted.” Pause. “Yours feels like lava.”

Despite everything, you simply shook your head and laughed. “That's what were writing down in our science report for Tony?”

“Yes.” Loki nodded seriously. With a careless swipe of his hand, the mess disappeared, and you promptly found yourself staring at the ceiling. “Experiment number two. I am going to find out whether it also tastes like lava,” he said impishly.

Your tummy clenched in anticipation, but then you heard the proverbial sound of brakes skidding in your head. “Wait. How do you know what lava tastes like?”

“I be in situations,” ever the dutiful boyfriend, Loki mumbled his reply into the fat above your cunt on his way down to make you see stars once again. You were not complaining at all.

a/n: I'm personally very impartial to Loki being a little over 8 feet tall in his Jötun form. For, you know, reasons. My nature's pocket can fit a lot of fun things in it, but I don't know about yours so... I left the fine details to your imagination. See how I don't describe the size of his appendage? Very demure, very mindful. ✨

Additionally, I don't think Asgard has a book on erogenous zones of peoples they conquered and genocided. I'd like to think that they're both clueless here and Loki is getting to know his Jötun body in a sexual setting. But that's just me.

[allfearstofallto]

Nice

Yandere childe x reader

1.7k

Synopsis: He'll buy you absolutely anything your heart desires, but he longs for you to describe things as more than just "nice"

TW: Yandere, abusive themes, bribery, NSFW themes, toxic relationship, Dub-Con

AN: I haven't written in FOREVER so forgive me if it's not awesome or if it feels incomplete. My last account got shadow banned :(, doesn't help that I was already pretty depressed before that. No time for sob stories here, it's been two years since I've written anything and I miss writing, thanks for joining me!

Gems that dazzled and gleamed stars in the night sky, silver that was carved painstakingly from the mines in Liyue, an appearance that was beautiful, but still kept up with the most current fashion trends. He had truly outdone himself with this one, this has to be the one that would take your breath away. The one that would make you leap into his arms and pepper his face with kisses from your sweet lips that he rarely got the chance to taste.

When it came to gifts for you, there was no price tag. Childe would spend every mora he had if it meant he could even get a smile out of you and spend he often did. Money meant nothing to him, being a Fatui harbinger, his paychecks were larger than he knew what to do with. After sending money back home to his family, he still had so much left and nothing that he longed for other than your affection. So, why not spend it on something else he cared about?

Your eyes ghosted over the ring he was showing you, encased in a black velvet box with red satin holding it up. It wasn’t an engagement ring, he’d assured you of that multiple times after you were taken aback by him holding it up to you. He knew you weren’t ready for that just yet, and he was willing to respect your wishes, but he still wanted to give you something to wear on that pretty little finger to show that you were his while you waited for the real deal. Your engagement ring would be much, much larger than the one he was gifting you now and it would incorporate details from both of your home countries.

The expression on your face was unreadable. It wasn’t quite a grimace, but it wasn’t a smile either. It was the usual face you made when you were given something. An equal mixture of discomfort and unease. “It’s…nice.” you mumbled quietly as he slipped the ring onto your finger.

There was that word again. Nice. It made him sick to his stomach every time he heard it fall from your pretty lips. But that was always what you said about his gifts, as if you couldn’t think of another word to describe how you felt about them. Rare spices imported from Sumeru? Nice. A custom hanfu made from only the finest silk to wear to the lantern rite? Nice. Wine aged for almost a decade and shipped straight from Mondstadt? Very nice.

You spoke that one word, but even then it felt like you were straining yourself to say that much. On multiple occasions, your displeasure with receiving such expressive gifts was expressed, but he told you that that didn’t matter. Mora was just an object to him, something that held no value, and yet you still held each gift as if they would collapse under your touch.

“You can tell me if you don’t like it,”

“No!” you quickly retorted back, holding your hand up to examine the ring once more, “Its…” you purse your lips to stop yourself from saying the word, knowing that he would only be upset with your lack of what he considered to be a proper answer, “I like it.”

With a sigh and a dramatic slump of his shoulders, he reached up and cupped your face. His hand felt like solid ice against your cheek. Childe often claimed that that was another thing he loved about you so much. How warm your body was in comparison to himself. He told you that when he someday took you to Snezhnaya to meet his family, you would be his personal heater, that he wouldn’t let you go for even a second during the duration of your stay there.

“You don’t even wear the earrings I got you anymore,” Childe’s long fingers traced from your cheek to the lobe of your ear, grazing the empty hole where jewelry would go.

“You know I can’t wear those at work,”

“Then quit your job,” He spoke those words so quickly, with no hesitation, a part of you was convinced you imagined it. But you working was a constant conflict of interest between the two of you, something you’d even argued about before.

The situation grew heated that day. Both of you, yelling back and forth about what you thought was right. You remembered seeing his eyes glow at the same time as his vision that rested on his hip, making your stomach drop. Childe would never hurt you, would he? But even you didn’t know the answer to that, you could never be too sure about what was going on in the mind of a harbinger. So you backed down slightly, telling him that it was something you would consider, and that answer sufficed with him for the time being.

“Childe-”

“Ajax,” he cut you off. He hated when you used his codename, claiming that as his future wife, you alone should be allowed to call him by his given name.

“Ajax," you exhaled harshly after speaking his name, "I really would like to work and be independent,”

For just the briefest of moments, his eyes went dull, his smile fell, his facade faltered and he was his true self. It only lasted for less than a second, the average person might not have even seen it, but you’d spent so much time with him. You knew his tells. You knew that even though he was smiling again, it was completely fake. He was angry, even if the gleam in his eyes didn't show it.

A cold kiss was pressed against your cheek, just a peck to get his point across. When he pulled away, still making eye contact, he was still so close that you could feel his shallow breath on your skin. He squatted down slightly to meet your eyes and whispered against your lips, “I don’t plan to let my wife work. Why don’t you quit now, have a little practice before we’re wed?”

He said that as a suggestion, but you knew it wasn’t one. With Childe there were only orders and threats, nothing in between. You had no choice on whether or not you’d get to work, on whether or not you got to live alone, on whether or not you married him. In his eyes, you were already his, and there was absolutely nothing you could do about it.

A lump was caught in your throat as you tried to figure out what to say. Could you even tell him that the prospect of marrying him was something that seldom crossed your mind? Something that even when you did think about, it brought a twinge of fear into your heart. That on multiple occasions, you considered leaving him, but your unease around him was what was making your stay.

“I…” you finally met his gaze as you tried to force words out of your tense body. His eyes felt so cold and the hand that he had managed to snake its way down onto your shoulder was gripping your flesh tightly. It was a warning that what you said next would matter, “I should just-”

“You should quit,” he spoke the last part of the sentence for you, not caring about what you truly wanted to say.

Eyes turned downcast, you gave a slow nod. There wasn’t much of a choice with him anymore, he was hellbent on that being your answer. He had given you an order, if you didn’t react the way he wanted you to, you would regret it.

The grip that was on your shoulder loosened, exhibiting that you had pleased him and another kiss was placed on your cheek as a reward. This time his lips touched just below your eyes, where tears were threatening to fall, “That’s my girl,” another peck right against your lips, “How about I buy you something special, huh? For being so good.”

You swallow slowly, trying to keep yourself from falling apart in front of him, clenching and unclenching your fist as a way to self soothe. Your voice was shaky as you delivered your stiff answer, “Sure. That sounds lovely.”

“How about a new pair of earrings,” he followed this up by lightly biting the side of your ear, “or maybe a new necklace,” you felt his warm tongue slide down from your ear to your collarbone, making all the hairs on your body stand up, “Or maybe even a new dress,” he spoke into your neck, his hand reaching down and trying to slide the dress you were wearing up your thigh, exposing your your bare skin to the air.

You jolted your body backwards, your hands placed against his chest in an attempt to keep the distance between the two of you. He was moving so fast. Too fast. Even though it had been a while since you and him had last been intimate, for him to try it again so suddenly was worrisome.

You didn’t dare look at his face. There was no doubt about it that he was upset at your response to his touch, he never liked when you rejected him. The hand that was placed against him, was taken into his. The way he held you was gentle, but you could still feel force behind his movement. The thumb of his hand traced the back of your palm as he held you, before lifting it up and placing a kiss against it. Right on your finger, right on the very expensive ring he’d just bought you, almost as a way to draw your attention to it once more.

“What’s gotten into you? Hm?” he had an eyebrow cocked and a grin on his face, “Pushing me away like that after I got you something so precious? You’re going to hurt my feelings.”

“I just don’t think I’m in the mood for this right now,” you mumbled, switching between looking at your dress you were fiddling with and his borderline unblinking eyes.

Silence fell over the two of you, to the point where you could hear your own heart beat, the sound of blood pumping in your ears, the sound of his breaths that were slightly heavier than normal. Childe was rarely quiet. It was hard to get him to keep his mouth shut. In a way his anger was scaled based on how loud he was, the quieter, the worse.

His large hand came into your sight again, making you flinch about what was coming ahead, but rather than being struck, he used his thumb to trace your lips, “Figure something out.”

[ks-dreams-fantasies]

TEACH ME PT.5 | TRAVIS KELCE

a/n: I know I've been MIA and I'm deeply sorry, hope you can forgive me. Here's a longer chapter for you guys. Still pretty soft but cute. It's going to become spicy in the next chapters, so stay tuned for that.

Warning: None

Words: 3.348 (not proofread)

Pairing: Travis Kelce x Reader

Part 4

TEACH ME PT.5 | TRAVIS KELCE

Later that evening, after your day filled with playful banter and shared moments with the kids, you sat on your couch, sipping on a glass of white wine. The buzz from the day’s excitement lingered, and you found yourself reaching for your phone to give Travis a call.

The phone rang a few times before he picked up, his voice warm and inviting. "Hey there, I was just thinking about you. How’s the night treating you?"

You couldn’t help but grin at his playful tone. "Pretty great, actually. And I have you to thank for the wonderful day."

Travis chuckled on the other end. "Glad to hear that. So, spill the details. What’s your favorite part of the day?"

As you recounted the moments spent with the kids, laughter and shared experiences, you could feel Travis’s genuine interest through the phone. The conversation flowed effortlessly, a comfortable exchange that reflected the ease between you.

Before you knew it, the topic shifted to the surprise bouquet and the unexpected plane ticket he had sent you. "I couldn’t believe it when I found those waiting for me," you admitted, feeling a rush of gratitude. "Thank you, Travis. You didn’t have to do that. The bouquet is beautiful. You really know how to make a girl feel special."

Travis chuckled softly. "You deserve it. I just wanted to make you smile. Consider it a preview of what's to come. I thought you might want a little something to brighten your day while I'm away." You couldn’t suppress a chuckle. "Well, you certainly succeeded in doing that. But about the ticket—"

Travis jumped in before you could finish. "I know it’s short notice, but I wanted to make sure you had a chance to visit KC. Besides, I have a game coming up, and I’d love for you to be there. "

You were touched by his gesture. "That’s incredibly sweet of you, Travis. I’d love to come. It’ll be an adventure for sure." The conversation meandered into plans for the upcoming trip, laced with excitement and the promise of new adventures. Travis was eager to show you around, his enthusiasm contagious. The days that followed were a whirlwind of anticipation and planning. You couldn't shake the smile off your face after that incredible evening with Travis on your official first date. Every text, call, and shared moment only deepened the connection between you two.

Your classroom buzzed with excitement as the kids were eager to know more about the mysterious bouquet and the note. They couldn’t help but giggle at the idea of their teacher having a secret admirer.

Camille, your confidante, and cheerleader, was over the moon, practically planning your entire wardrobe for the trip to Kansas City. She oscillated between teasing and genuine excitement, leaving you laughing at her enthusiasm.

The days dwindled away, each passing moment building up the anticipation for your upcoming trip. Travis was a constant presence in your thoughts, his gestures and the sheer thoughtfulness behind each message making you feel like a school girl.

As the day of your flight neared, you found yourself standing in front of your closet, deliberating over what to pack. Camille sat on your bed, throwing outfit suggestions your way faster than you could consider them.

"You've got to look effortlessly chic but also comfortable," she insisted, holding up a stylish yet casual ensemble.

You chuckled, admiring her enthusiasm. "I think I'll manage. But thanks for the fashion advice."

The day before your flight, you received a call from Travis, his voice warm and inviting over the phone. "Hey, just making sure you're all set for tomorrow. I've got a few surprises planned."

Your heart fluttered at the excitement in his voice. "I'm beyond excited! What surprises?" you teased, hoping for a sneak peek.

He laughed, a melodic sound that made your heart skip a beat. "Ah, ah, can't spoil the fun. But I promise, you're in for a treat."

The night before your flight was filled with a mix of excitement and nervousness. You packed and repacked, ensuring you didn't forget anything essential. Camille stayed over, the two of you reminiscing about past adventures and making plans for when you returned.

The next morning arrived in a rush of adrenaline. You barely slept a wink, your mind filled with thoughts of the trip and the moments awaiting you. A quick check of your suitcase, a last-minute glance in the mirror, and you were ready to embark on this new chapter.

At the airport, the buzz of travelers and the anticipation in the air only fueled your excitement. Security cleared, you made your way to the gate, heart racing with every step closer to seeing Travis again.

The announcement for your flight echoed through the terminal, signaling the start of your journey. As you settled into your seat, the anticipation bubbled within you, the plane humming with the promise of a fun weekend.

As the flight took off, you gazed out the window, the city shrinking into the distance. Thoughts of what lay ahead filled you with a sense of joy and nervousness, a beautiful mix of emotions swirling within.

Kansas City awaited, and so did Travis. The promise of new experiences, shared moments, and the chance to explore a city with someone special made your heart race. The adventure had just begun, and you were ready to embrace every moment of it.

The descent into Kansas City was exhilarating. As the plane landed and passengers started to gather their belongings, your heart raced with anticipation. Stepping off the plane, the familiar buzz of a new city surrounded you, the air carrying the excitement of the adventures ahead.

As you made your way through the bustling airport, Travis’s text chimed in, “Just landed? I’m parked at the arrivals, can’t wait to see you!”

You grinned, your heart skipping a beat at the thought of reuniting with him. Your pace quickened, eager to see the man who had been on your mind for days.

Spotting Travis waiting by the arrivals gate, your breath hitched. Dressed casually yet stylishly in jeans and a well-fitted tee, he looked even more handsome than you remembered. His eyes lit up as he caught sight of you, a wide smile spreading across his face.

"Hey there," Travis greeted, pulling you into a warm hug that felt like coming home.

The familiarity of his embrace made your heart skip a beat. You matched his grin, feeling a surge of happiness at the sight of him. "Hey, stranger! Missed me already?" you teased, playfully raising an eyebrow.

Travis chuckled, stepping closer. "More than you know. But I must say, you’re looking even better than I remembered." His gaze swept over you appreciatively, sending a warmth through you.

"Well, I had to bring my A-game for the city tour," you quipped, enjoying the playful banter.

As he reached for your suitcase, his hand brushed against yours, sending an electrifying tingle down your spine. "Shall we head out then? I’ve got a couple of surprises lined up for you," Travis said with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

The casual flirtation between you and Travis felt effortless, the chemistry palpable as you made your way to his car. The car ride was a flurry of laughter, easy conversation, and subtle touches that spoke volumes.

"So, any hints about these surprises you mentioned?" you teased, unable to contain your curiosity.

Travis flashed a sly smile. "Ah, where’s the fun in spoiling the surprise? But I promise you won’t be disappointed."

As Travis navigated the streets of Kansas City, the city's vibrant energy surrounded you. The car ride was a symphony of shared laughter, playful teasing, and moments that felt like they were plucked straight out of a romantic comedy.

You couldn’t help but grin at Travis’s playful secrecy about the surprises. "You’re really committed to keeping these under wraps, aren’t you?" you teased, enjoying the delightful mystery.

He shot you a grin that sparkled with mischief. "Absolutely! Gotta keep the suspense alive. Builds up the excitement, you know?"

Your curiosity was piqued, but you couldn’t deny the thrill of anticipation. The chemistry between you and Travis was undeniable, each moment spent together deepening the connection.

Pulling into a parking spot, Travis cut the engine, turning to face you with a mischievous glint in his eyes. "And here we are!"

You looked around, a hint of curiosity in your expression. "Here? Where exactly?"

Travis pointed to a bustling street lined with colorful shops and cafes. "Welcome to one of my favorite spots in town. Thought we'd start our adventure with some local treats and maybe a bit of shopping. You up for it?"

Your eyes lit up at the prospect, a playful smile forming on your lips. "Absolutely! Lead the way, tour guide extraordinaire."

The two of you strolled down the vibrant street, exploring quaint shops and sampling delicious treats. Travis was the perfect guide, sharing anecdotes about each place and introducing you to the city’s hidden gems.

Amidst the laughter and easy banter, there were subtle touches, a brush of hands when reaching for the same item at a shop, a lingering glance that spoke volumes. The chemistry crackled in the air, adding an extra layer of excitement to the day.

As you settled down at a charming café for a quick break, sipping on some freshly brewed coffee, Travis leaned in with a playful twinkle in his eye. "Okay, maybe it's time for a tiny hint about the surprises."

Your eyes sparkled with curiosity. "Finally! Lay it on me."

Travis leaned closer, his voice a conspiratorial whisper. "Let's just say one involves a spectacular view and the other might be nostalgic. But that’s all you're getting for now."

You couldn’t help but laugh, feeling the thrill of the unknown. "I'm intrigued. Can't wait to see what you have in store."

As Travis and you stepped out of the charming cafe where you’d shared a warm beverage and a pastery, the late afternoon sun bathed the streets in a golden glow. The chatter and laughter between you felt like a warm embrace amidst the bustling city.

As you strolled along the street, absorbed in conversation, a flurry of camera clicks disrupted the tranquility. Paparazzi had appeared seemingly out of nowhere, snapping pictures of Travis. He shielded you instinctively, guiding you away from the commotion.

"Sorry about that," he murmured, a hint of frustration in his voice. "They're everywhere sometimes."

You offered a reassuring smile, squeezing his hand gently. "It’s okay. I guess that comes with the territory, huh?"

Travis nodded, the tension easing as you continued your walk. Soon, you arrived at his place, a modern yet cozy and beautiful house that exuded warmth.

Travis guided you through his home, the décor a reflection of his eclectic tastes and passions. He stopped in front of a guest room, gesturing toward it with a smile. "This is the guest room. Feel free to settle in here. I've made sure it's comfy for you."

You nodded appreciatively, taking in the inviting setup. "Thank you, Travis. It looks lovely."

Yet, there was a gentle hesitancy in his demeanor. He shuffled his feet slightly, his eyes meeting yours with a touch of shyness. "Um, I mean, if you're more comfortable, there's also my room. I could set up the guest room too, but..."

Travis’s voice trailed off, a hint of uncertainty lingering in the air. His suggestion hung between you, laced with a vulnerability that surprised you. You understood the unspoken invitation, the gentle offer to share his personal space, but you also sensed his hesitance.

Your heart warmed at his gesture, his consideration palpable. "I appreciate that, Travis. Your kindness means a lot."

A comfortable silence settled between you, the unspoken understanding weaving a delicate thread of connection. The offer was sweet and genuine, but you also sensed the boundaries he respected.

"I think I’ll settle into the guest room for now," you finally said, offering a warm smile.  ‘’Of course,’’ he responded with a smile, ‘’I’ll let you get ready for your next surprise’’ 

You dropped your things off and freshened up, excited for the evening’s surprises Travis had planned.

Once you opened your suitcase, you surprisingly found the red and lacy 2 piece set that Camille had bought you before your first date with Travis. You grabbed your phone and snapped a quick picture sending it to you friend.

I don’t remember packing that... 

Glad you arrived safe and sound. I figured it might come in handy for your trip, thank me later 😉

You shook your head giggling before picking an outfit for the evening. As the sky transitioned into a canvas of twilight hues, Travis led you outside, where a vintage car awaited.

‘’You look beautiful’’ he said with a genuine smile. You thanked him, a blush creeping on your cheeks.

Travis opened the car door for you with a grin. "Ready for the next surprise?"

You nodded eagerly, feeling a thrill of excitement. "Absolutely."

The drive to the outdoor dinner spot was filled with easy conversation and stolen glances, the city lights painting a picturesque backdrop. You arrived at a charming courtyard lit with fairy lights, a table set for two in a secluded corner.

Travis pulled out your chair with a charming smile. "Welcome to our dinner spot."

The evening unfolded like a dream, a delectable meal served under a canopy of stars, animated conversations, and shared laughter that echoed in the intimate space.

Travis glanced over at you, a playful smirk on his lips. "So, tell me something random about yourself. Like, your secret talent or an odd quirk."

You chuckled, mulling it over. "Well, I have this uncanny ability to remember the lyrics to almost every song I've ever heard. Comes in handy for karaoke nights."

Travis raised an eyebrow, a hint of amusement in his eyes. "Impressive! Mental note: invite you to a karaoke night."

You nudged him playfully. "Better brush up on your singing skills then, Mr. Kelce."

He laughed, the sound warm and infectious. "Challenge accepted."

The banter flowed effortlessly between you, each moment feeling comfortable and easy. Conversations shifted from favorite movies to childhood memories, the laughter echoing through the park.

As youcontinued to eat your amazing dinner, Travis leaned in, grabbing your hand to caress it like it was nothing. "So, what’s your go-to guilty pleasure food?"

You grinned, knowing exactly what he was asking. "Pizza, hands down. I can never resist a good slice."

Travis nodded approvingly. "Solid choice. Mine's probably ice cream, especially on game nights."

You arched an eyebrow, teasingly. "Does ice cream give you your touchdown mojo?"

He chuckled. "Maybe not directly, but it definitely adds to the celebration."

As the evening deepened, Travis led you to another surprise—an old-fashioned drive-in movie setup in a secluded spot, complete with a screen as you both got comfortable in his car. Travis extended his arm to get a small basket form the backseat. He handed you some popcorn and candy as well as a drink for you to sip on during the movie. 

‘’Wow you really came prepared.’’ You chuckled impressed by him.

‘’Of course I did.’’ He said pulling a blanket and putting it on the both of you so you could get cozy. He drapped his arm on the seat pulling you closer to his body as the screen lit up announcing the movie that was about to play.

Your favorite movie, "Casablanca," played in classic black and white, the iconic scenes flickering across the screen.

You couldn’t contain your delight. "You remembered!"

Travis grinned, drapping his arm around your neck, pulling you closer to his body. "Of course I did.’’ 

You turned around looking into his eyes. ‘’Thank you for this, you’re the best.’’ You said before pecking his lips gently. He was taken by surprise but didn’t complain, since you arrived all he wanted to you was to kiss you. 

As the black and white scenes of "Casablanca" played on the screen, the vintage car was transformed into a cocoon of intimacy. The air was charged with the nostalgia of the classic movie, and the soft glow of the moon added a touch of magic to the evening.

Travis shifted in his seat, stealing a glance at you as Humphrey Bogart's iconic scene played out. With a playful smile, he nudged your shoulder. "Quite the romantic, aren't you? Bet you've seen this movie a dozen times."

You chuckled softly, feeling the warmth of the moment. "Maybe a dozen and one. But it never gets old."

Travis's gaze lingered, the dim light casting a soft glow on his features. He reached for your hand, intertwining his fingers with yours. The simple touch sent a jolt of warmth through you, a subtle electricity that crackled between you both.

In the hushed silence of the night, the world seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of you under the canopy of stars and the timeless story on the screen.

As the movie reached a poignant moment, Travis turned to you, his eyes reflecting the vulnerability of the characters. His hand moved to gently cup your cheek, his touch tender and deliberate.

"You know," he murmured, his voice a whisper against the backdrop of the movie. "There's something about old movies that make the moments feel timeless."

Your breath hitched at the intensity of his gaze, the unspoken emotions swirling between you. In that quiet space, with the characters of Casablanca whispering their love story, a different kind of tension simmered—a tension that danced on the edge of unspoken desires and the anticipation of what was to come.

Without a word, Travis leaned in, closing the gap between you. The world outside faded away, leaving only the warmth of his lips against yours. It was a gentle kiss, tender yet filled with a quiet intensity, as if he was pouring his feelings into that single moment.

Your heart pounded against your chest as the kiss deepened, the quiet rustle of the leaves and the distant hum of the city creating a symphony around you. His lips were warm and soft, a silent testament to the unspoken emotions that had been building between you both.

As the evening wound down and the drive-in movie came to a close, Travis led you back to his inviting home, the night air carrying the scent of possibility and warmth. Inside, the soft glow of lamps cast a cozy ambiance, enveloping the space in a comforting embrace.

‘’Thank you so much for tonight, it was an incredible evening, you really know how to make things special.’’ 

‘’I just wanted to show you how much I like you and how serious I am about this.’’ He said playing with your fingers.

‘’ Well I like you too, Travis.’’ You responded blushing. ‘’It’s getting late, I’m going to head up to bed if you don’t mind.’’ You said pecking his cheeks as he closed his eyes to appreciate the moment.

‘’Of course, I’ll see you tomorrow morning, sleep tight.’’

As you settled into the cozy guest room, a sense of gratitude filled you. The day had been nothing short of magical, and Travis's thoughtful gestures lingered in your mind, leaving a trail of warmth.

However, as you lay in bed, thoughts of the day's shared moments with Travis played on a loop. His considerate offer to share his space echoed in your mind, and a subtle curiosity tugged at your thoughts.

With a soft sigh, you found yourself standing outside Travis's bedroom door. You hesitated for a moment, contemplating the unspoken invitation. Gathering your courage, you lightly tapped on the door, the sound barely audible in the quiet house.

Travis opened the door, surprise flickering in his eyes at the sight of you in your light blue satin pyjama. "Hey, is everything okay?"

You met his gaze, feeling a rush of vulnerability. "I hope I'm not overstepping, but... I'd like to take you up on your offer, if it's still open."

To Be Continued

Taglist : @kkrenae @spencerreidisbootiful @nabiiturner @ilove-tswizzle @legit9thlunaticwarrior @evernova @kelcemenow @bellstwd @my-regrets @green-lxght @thecubanator2 @corvusmorte @vznggh @kxllanxtdoor @youareadistraction @blackstabbath6 @queenmendes @@maryleclerc @itsdesiree86 @pookiepookie8 @kristencochefski1125 @mellyie @miab11181999 @hornyavengers @tringeorge @unsaidjaelinrose

[randomciabatta724]

Some Polites headcanons because they're good for the soul.

Note: these are a mix of details from the musical I wanted to expand on, stuff I've read from other posts, and things I randomly came up with.

He was in the frontlines (or at least near them) during the Trojan war. Not because he wanted to fight, he just thought "if I have to join the battle, I'll at least shield those behind me". I took this from Survive, because he had to be pretty close to Polyphemus to be the first one hit by the club.

Self sacrificial. Very self sacrificial. Would die for the crew, especially for Odysseus and Eurylochus.

Loves dates. Either on their own or with honey. I don't know why, he just gives me the vibe.

Had night terrors both during and after the war. Either nightmares about the people he killed (let's face it, you don't come out of a 10 year war without getting blood on your hands) or his friends dying in battle. Never explicitly told anyone, but he would stay with his friends a little longer the morning after. Also picked a lot more night watch turns as a result, just to get his mind off of things.

Bruises/gets injured extremely easily, and doesn't notice/care. Especially if someone else is hurt too. "Are you alright?" asks Polites to another soldier while coughing up blood.

Also very durable, somehow. That's why Polyphemus had to hit him twice/j.

Myopic king. The glasses are a gift from Athena, because she was like "I think you're a soft-hearted fool, but I'll be damned if you embarrass my Warrior of the Mind because you can't see beyond the bridge of your nose".

The type of person to keep eating horrible/possibly poisoned food just to not offend the person who prepared it. Odysseus had to smack the lotus out of his hand because he would have still taken a bite to not make the lotus eaters upset (he brought some with him anyway, that's where Odysseus got the lotuses to put in the wine).

Many have already said this, he's the therapist friend before therapy was invented.

Gives the best hugs.

Taller than Odysseus but shorter than Eurylochus (Odysseus reaches Polites' chest, Polites reaches Eurylochus' nose).

Apologises when he bumps into furniture. It's a reflex, he doesn't notice he does it. It's a remnant of his pre-glasses days, when he couldn't distinguish a person from a vase.

The ancient Greek equivalent of a Godfather to Telemachus.

Extremely trusting, sometimes a little too much (fun fact: in the Odyssey he's like the first one to enter Circe's palace).

Very forgiving. He gives second, third, even fourth chances like it's nothing, no matter how badly someone hurts him. You have to be pretty forgiving to still think about greeting the world with open arms after being clubbed to death. (Note: this does not apply to his friends getting hurt).

When he takes off his bandana, his curls reach his shoulders and cover his left eye, and it gives him a whole different vibe. He still radiates warmth, but it's not the same. Kinda like the sun at noon and the sun at dusk. The second is still warm and welcoming, but dimmer, softer, maybe a little darker. People have mistaken him for someone else because of this.

Super heavy sleeper. One time when they were younger, Odysseus and Eurylochus decided to try and wake him up by making the most noise possible. They did not succeed.

His first kiss was Eurylochus while Odysseus was away in Sparta to court Penelope.

One time, someone tried to rob him. The guy was like "Give me your money!" and Polites was like "Oh dear, look at you, of course I'll give you my money, you look like you really need it. Also, why don't you come to my house so I can give you some food and clean clothes?". The thief was so ashamed of himself he ran away.

He befriended Charon in the Underworld.

You know the plague that Apollo sent during the Iliad? He may or may not have gotten it, I haven't decided yet.

Considering that in epic the sirens have the ability to shapeshift into loved ones, there was definitely a siren Polites somewhere during Suffering/Different Beast.

He's generally a very calm person, the only thing that really gets him angry is when his friends get hurt. And when he's angry, he's not someone to mess with. He can and will kick ass. And the thing that rubs salt in the wound is that if you get beat up by Polites, it's almost certainly your fault, because Polites isn't the kind of person that goes around randomly beating people up. And very few people wish to carry the title "The person who got beat up by Polites".

SPOILERS AHEAD!!!

The last headcanon is something I've also based a scenario on. Basically, after Odysseus kills the suitors, they go to the Underworld. Most of them are still shaken up by the whole thing, which is understandable, getting shot by an enemy you can't see while unarmed in the dark is not fun, but not Antinous. Antinous is pissed. And so he rallies up the other suitors, he gives a whole speech where he basically says they can get revenge on Odysseus once he joins them there and also reveals all the shit they did while he was gone. And Polites is like, talking to Eurylochus or something, when he overhears. And so he goes to give Antinous the beating of his life because you do **not** disrespect his best friend and his family like that. And the suitors+Eurylochus are watching from a corner, with the suitors getting even more scared.

That's it. Nothing more :)

I know Eurylochus is married to Ctimene but I SHIP HIM AND POLITES SO BAD AAAAAAAAHHHHHH

[aurianavaloria]

KoH - What Good May Come (Baldwin IV x Reader)

Fandom: Kingdom of Heaven

Pairing: Baldwin IV x Fem!Reader

PoV: Mixed/Split (Tiberias - Fem!Reader - Baldwin)

Length: Long (8k+ words! 😬)

TW: Vague mentions of disfigurement/leprosy

A/N: FINALLY, I've finished the Y/N fic that was voted on so long ago in this poll. Since the results were fairly close, I simply eliminated the least-voted option and went with a combination of the rest. 😁I've tried my best to keep Y/N truly generic, although she is female; in all other ways, though, it was my hope to make her vague enough that readers could envision whomever they liked in whatever universe/version of the story they wished. Backstory and circumstances are also left as vague as possible. As far as personality, I tried to go with what seemed most popular in general, again in an attempt to appeal to the widest audience. I sincerely hope you enjoy, and thank you all for being awesome! 🤗

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“She adores you, you know.”

It was these words from Tiberias that broke the silence between king and vassal – a companionable one… one born from years of acquaintanceship that had seen both parties through their fair share of strife and misunderstandings. A type of camaraderie perhaps only two leaders in their position could comprehend and be satisfied with.

The Count of Tripoli watched as his liege-lord’s attention was drawn from the bright Jerusalem outdoors into which he was all but forbidden to emerge. Watched as eyes as blue as the sky Tiberias knew was above drifted to his own. One was clouded, now – a sign of impending blindness. But Tiberias remembered well when both possessed such a clear and sharp forget-me-not stare, bidding all who beheld their gaze to indeed forget them not…

“I beg your pardon, Raymond,” the king replied, the silver mask he wore slightly muffling carefully-chosen words, smooth as the waters of the Jordan. “My thoughts have wandered, as they often do these days, and I am uncertain as to whom you refer.”

The smallest of laughs escaped Tiberias’s lips as they briefly twisted into a half-smile – a response to His Majesty that perhaps only he could get away with. He swirled what remained of the deep claret wine in his goblet, leveling his gaze at the king over the rim; the Count had known his lord since before he had come of age, and no amount of masks could cover the fact that Baldwin IV of Jerusalem was always aware of more than he pretended.

“Forgive me for my lack of clarity, my lord,” Raymond answered wryly. “I speak of Lady Y/N.”

“Ah, yes.”

Baldwin’s response was accompanied by the slightest nod, silver shimmering with the movement as it caught a sunray. His eyes fell to the chess pieces that functioned not as part of an actual match between them, but merely an occupation for restless hands. Particularly the king’s. Gloved in white, one of those half-numb hands still somehow moved with grace, a slender finger perched atop the head of a knight, resting upon the carved arch of the stallion’s mane.

Tiberias noted the short answer, half-sighed. No doubt His Majesty’s thoughts continued where his lips dared not to go, if the Count knew him as well as he thought he did…

“She speaks of you fondly and often,” Raymond added, sipping of the wine. “I believe she is single-handedly determined to bring your presence back into court by mention of your name and titles alone.”

White fingers released the knight. “The court is far too vicious a place for as good a soul as hers,” Baldwin said at length, sitting back in his chair, another sigh escaping him like the hiss of steam behind his mask as he glanced away. “Lately, I have been thinking of what to do with her. It is increasingly obvious there is no place for her here. Not amongst these vultures.”

“Oh?” Tiberias’s brows arched high. “Isn’t there?”

“No. There is not.”

At that, the Count’s lips pressed together as he leaned forward, setting his goblet on the chess table and folding his hands in his lap. “My lord, surely you aren’t thinking of sending her away. Not from here, where she has found joy despite everything.” He caught his liege’s gaze as it returned to him, adding pointedly, “Where you have found it.”

“My joy is irrelevant,” Baldwin replied flatly. “And as for hers...” he paused, and Raymond could see the king’s throat bob past his bandages. “It will not persist. It is best she seek it elsewhere, before that which she has found here meets its inevitable end.”

The corner of the Count’s mouth twitched. “You, or Jerusalem?”

“I am Jerusalem,” the king answered simply.

Tiberias glanced away, closing his eyes for a moment as silence stretched between them. The Count in him knew that Baldwin was, in a way, correct. Disaster loomed on the horizon – a kind of calamity from which they might not return, and it would most assuredly begin with His Majesty’s death. If the physicians were right and not being overly generous in their assessment, then the king had less than a decade left in his short life. And imbeciles like Guy de Lusignan seemed determined to shorten it further. Yes, she would be safer – and perhaps happier in the long term – elsewhere…

Yet there was something so terribly tragic about it all that Tiberias couldn’t help but feel sympathy grow in his heart for the boy. Yes boy. He hadn’t even had the chance to grow a man’s whiskers on his cheeks before that damned disease had twisted his face almost beyond recognition. And Tiberias had seen it all. Even through the at-times frustrating trials of Baldwin’s kingship, the Count of Tripoli had watched as the golden-haired warrior of sixteen years had wasted away into this silver-faced specter that had become far too wise, far too young…

…but he had also watched those specter’s eyes glow with a long-absent light the moment Y/N had stood before him. For a fleeting instant, he had once again seen the eyes of a younger king, reminiscent of past joys and glorious victories.

Baldwin would extinguish that light in an instant for her sake, romantic fool that he was. Or perhaps it was Raymond himself who was the fool, as he thought of Y/N and how she, too, had been drawn to the king the moment they’d met. How such a precious creature, so rare upon this Earth, had fallen into such a deadly trap… and now it seemed, like a snared rabbit, her only option was to chew off her own limb before the hunter found her.

How to rescue them both from such a fate?

“The girl is in love with you, my lord,” he began after a moment, his voice a growling murmur. “To send her away would break her heart. It would destroy her.” He shook his head, meeting the king’s stare with his own. “As it would you, and you know it.”

“What would you have me do, Tiberias?” Baldwin asked, Raymond’s more familiar moniker finally coming out now that the Count’s words had pierced past the royal façade. “To let her stay will cause her only despair, and that will destroy the both of us as well. And I cannot be that selfish to such a benevolent soul.” Tiberias heard a long exhale behind the mask as the king cast his eyes to the ceiling, as if searching for answers amongst the lofty vaults. “Were it not for this disease I would ask her father for her hand and devote my life to her as her husband before the altar of God. But I am a leper, and I am forbidden that.” The pale gaze that returned to the Count’s was a haunting one now, as if all the ghosts of Purgatory screamed through it for salvation. A mirthless laugh followed, a dark sound born of darker thoughts. “It seems I can do nothing else but waste away before her very eyes. So tell me, my wise vassal – if I cannot protect her from what is to come, what is it that I can do?”

A flicker of a smile crossed Tiberias’s lips. “Love her, my lord. As I know you already do.” He paused, propping his elbows on the table and rubbing his sword-calloused hands together as he thought.

“It’s the whole reason for your self-flagellation, is it not?” he continued after a moment. “This talk of sending Y/N out of Jerusalem – your crown tells you one thing, but your heart tells you another, and for the first time you want to toss the crown by the wayside, and that makes you fear you are an incompetent king. So you pick up the crown again in hopes it will crush the heart, and perhaps the love along with it.”

Another sigh, the lids of the king’s eyes fluttering shut for a moment. “I only wish to do what is right, Tiberias. It is what I have striven for my entire life, and I will not abandon such principles now. If it means my own suffering, so be it. And as for her,” his eyes opened once more, latching to Raymond’s, “tell me what good may come from the love of a leper.”

This time, it was the Count who sighed, sitting back in his chair. “Peace. Mercy. Comfort. Everything you have brought to this kingdom.” He crossed an ankle over his knee, peaking his fingers. “You cannot know that a little cruelty now will not hurt her any less than what will come later. But you do know that loving her can only bring happiness to you both in the present moment – and that is what she lives for. Not the future.” He cocked his head at the king. “There is nothing wicked in what she desires. Nor in what you wish for her. The both of you want nothing more than the other’s well-being. How can that be anything but right?”

Raymond saw Baldwin’s throat bob again, the mask shimmering in the sunlight as he shifted in his seat, first looking down towards the floor, then back to the illuminated arcade.

“How shall I court her, then?” he inquired at length, his voice softer, cynicism at last yielding to tender warmth. “How to show her this affection of mine without forever staining her honor?”

Tiberias’s jaw worked as he thought for a few moments in silence. “If you wish to be discreet, my lord, I believe I may assist in this matter.”

It was then, as Baldwin returned his attention to the Count, that the latter saw a glimpse of boyish mischief sparkling in his liege’s eye. “I would trust no other to the task.”

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“My lady, a courier flagged me down today and told me to give you this.”

Your lady-in-waiting approached, holding out a small wrapped parcel.

“What is it?” you asked, interest piqued.

The handmaid shook her head. “I have no idea, my lady. The courier didn’t say.”

You felt your brow furrow as you took the parcel in hand. The fabric was fine, but not terribly so – a soft cream color, tied with a simple yellow ribbon.

“Hmm. I wonder who it is from.”

“He didn’t say that, either,” your companion commented.

Curiosity mounting by the second, you decided to succumb to the impulse to open the parcel, tugging at the ribbon. Casting it aside, you pulled back the corners of the fabric to reveal a folded piece of parchment, within which had been tucked something slightly weighty…

Merely tilting the parchment to the side let the object slide free into your waiting palm, and you couldn’t stifle the gasp that escaped you. There, in your hand, lay a lovely brooch, sparkling in the sunlight that streamed in from your window. A small disk of gold, swirling floral patterns weaved across its surface and wound about its edge like vines of roses. At its center was set a sapphire cabochon, polished and glimmering, and from its bottom edge hung a single creamy white pearl, like a teardrop in shape.

“Oh, it’s beautiful!”

The words came from your lady-in-waiting; you were too busy still holding your breath as you took in the details of this exquisite piece. You ran a finger over the filigree and atop the smooth stone in wonder. Who could have possibly gifted you something so beautiful and why?

As if reading your mind, your fellow courtier prompted, “Maybe the parchment says who it’s from.”

Finally remembering to breathe, you nodded, carefully unfolding the small piece of vellum to see a tight, neat script, punctuated with neither signature nor seal:

You will never know how much light you bring into the lives of others. It is my only hope that this small token of my regard brings a measure of light into yours.

This time, it was both you and your handmaiden who gasped in unison, barely stifling squeaks of girlish delight as you exchanged looks with one another.

“You, my lady, have an admirer!”

In awe, you stared at the parchment, reading the words over and over again. But who could have possibly written them?

“So it seems,” you replied at length, running a thumb across the surface of the brooch.

“Well,” your comrade continued, straightening and putting her hands on her hips, “that will give you plenty to talk about at the feast tonight.”

Your brow furrowed. “Feast?”

She nodded with a grin. “Yes, feast! Princess Sibylla arranged it. Perhaps you’ll find your mysterious admirer amongst the guests there, hmm?”

At that, you could only blink for a moment, your thoughts a whirlwind in your mind. Of all the things to find in Jerusalem, you hadn’t quite expected an admirer to be one of them…

“I’m not sure whether to be frightened or excited by the prospects,” you finally replied honestly, a nervous chuckle following your words.

“Oh, lady,” your handmaid admonished, swatting a hand playfully at your shoulder. “It will be quite fun, I’m sure. The princess’s functions are always lighthearted affairs, or so I hear. I imagine there will be dancing and merry music aplenty. Just plan to enjoy yourself, and if something – or someone – intriguing comes along…” she trailed and winked.

You tried to fight the blush that sprang to your cheeks, but to no avail, leading your handmaid to laugh heartily. “Ah, my lady. By your leave, I must see to a few things before evening falls, but I will return to help you get ready.”

You couldn’t help but smile back, giving a nod of assent. “Of course.”

With that, the lady-in-waiting dipped into a polite curtsey and left, closing your chamber door gently behind her and leaving you to your increasingly-anxious thoughts. Your attention returned to the parchment and brooch – both were fine indeed, indicating that, whoever your admirer was, they were certainly someone of status. Yet there was a certain practicality to both; the author’s penmanship was practiced and elegant, but not overstated, and the brooch itself was obviously expensive, but neither was it overly extravagant.

It was also a rather fitting gift, considering you had only just lost your old one on the way to Jerusalem…

And then it hit you.

It can’t be…

Your heart began to beat harder in your chest as it all came to you in a rush. Yes, you’d lost your beloved brooch on the long journey to Jerusalem – one of your last remaining ties to your homeland. A silly thing to get upset about, you told yourself later on, and yet the loss of it affected you even after your arrival at court. Nevertheless, no one up until that point knew besides your lady-in-waiting. And there was only one Jerusalemite native to whom you had confided that little detail.

The king.

Your mouth ran dry as you remembered the instance as clearly as if it had been yesterday. It was only your third day at the palace, and you’d yet to become accustomed to its maze-like halls. Couple that with your fascination with the local architecture, and that led you to places, in hindsight, you probably ought not have tread. Yet no one stopped you, even as the number of palace guests thinned and you emerged upon a quiet, sunlit terrace…

…only to run right into a tall man in white.

It hadn’t taken you long to figure out that you’d plowed headlong into the king himself – quite embarrassing that. In fact, you were so mortified that you were sure you would die of it on the spot, even as you apologized profusely with the deepest curtsey you could manage on weak legs.

To your surprise, however, not even the slightest admonishment came from him. Instead, he chuckled, the sound muffled by the mask he wore. That caused you to look up, still frozen in your curtsey, and that was when you saw the bluest eyes you’d ever seen in your life looking back at you, their squinted corners evidence of a smile behind the almost-angelic visage of silver.

You smiled back nervously, at which point he bid you to rise, assuring you that you had done nothing wrong. An awkward introduction followed, during which you admitted that curiosity had gotten the better of you, and you praised the well-kept grounds and the lovely accommodations you’d been given…

As it so happened, however, he already knew precisely who you were from your name alone – where you were from and why you’d come to Jerusalem. Whether he had gleaned this information from spies or the rumor mill of the court, you weren’t certain, but the more he spoke, the more difficult it became to keep the flabbergasted look off your face. And along with that astonishment came the slightest bit of fear – if he knew this much about you, how much did everyone else know?

Despite your best efforts, though, you must have been unable to keep your face expressionless, as that was when he had invited you to his chambers to speak further in private.

To say you were surprised by such an offer was something of an understatement; it was the last thing you expected to hear after what had just transpired between you, especially from a king to a freshly-acquainted subject. And yet you found yourself quite unable to decline even out of modesty. For one thing, declining the offer of a king seemed most imprudent, and for another…

…well, you were actually rather curious about His Majesty, unwilling to end the encounter just yet.

So you followed him, marveling at him all the while. You knew he was a leper – that was something you’d been informed of before you’d departed for the Holy City – but that didn’t frighten you. You had seen lepers where you were from, and they hadn’t frightened you, either. You also knew the mask was meant to hide the deformities beneath. In fact, it was the presence of that mask that had led you to guess the identity of its owner before it was ever confirmed by his lips – it was a symbol as powerful as a crown. None of that was what had drawn your curiosity; you were motivated neither by morbid fascination nor a sense of pity.

No, it was his astonishingly-welcoming demeanor that had you almost spellbound. The easy willingness to listen and to forgive. The quiet, yet poised decorum. You’d known men and women alike with rank much lesser than his who possessed a cold and domineering manner that was immediately off-putting to almost everyone around them. Yet here was the king of this realm, conversing politely with a lady who had merely lost her way.

Already you had learned volumes about his character, and he’d barely spoken at all.

He had posted guards, you noted, but they kept their eyes straight ahead as you passed them, following King Baldwin into his private quarters. It was a mighty struggle, but you managed to resist the urge to succumb to the eye-wandering that had gotten you into this situation to begin with. Instead, with the same discipline of his guardsmen, you glued your gaze to his back, occupying yourself by mentally tracing the subtle patterns in his coat of white damask silk.

Ultimately, he offered you a seat, and as you accepted with another curtsey, he sat himself a respectable distance away, only the slightest stiffness of his limbs betraying his condition as he settled into the chair opposite you. In fact, you could imagine he occupied his throne in much the same manner as he leaned back, both white-gloved hands curving over the ends of its arms. A servant, unbidden, came forth out of the shadows with a fresh cup of wine, which you took with a polite nod. The man then retreated as quietly as he had arrived, disappearing beyond sheer curtains of pale fabric.

And then, you talked.

It was mostly he who asked the questions, and you answered them as best as you were able; you weren’t brave enough to ask him much of anything, and so you settled for what small bits of information he voluntarily divulged over the course of your conversation. All in all, it was a relatively light discussion. He mostly inquired about your homeland and of your journey – of whether you had experienced any hardships or had witnessed anything of interest on your way to the Holy City, and if you had troubles acclimating to Jerusalem. It was during this exchange that you revealed the caravan’s run-in with thieves… how they had stolen what small bit of jewelry you possessed, sneaking in and out of the tents of the pilgrims and vanishing into the desert night before anyone could catch them.

You only offhandedly mentioned the brooch as the one piece you had any sentimental attachment to. In all honesty, you weren’t even sure if he had been listening at that point, as he had closed his eyes for a long time. You thought perhaps he might even have fallen asleep for a moment; if so, you couldn’t blame him, as you knew his condition was exhausting – you couldn’t imagine dealing with it on top of everything else expected of a king.

It was also quite possible that you were boring the poor man out of his mind with your lengthy and rambling answers, and he was simply too polite to cut you off.

Yet if what your gut was telling you was right, then he had indeed been listening, and far more closely than you could ever have realized…

You hadn’t known, however, at the time. Instead, you’d felt increasingly self-conscious as his eyes opened again, their gaze meeting yours with a piercing stare. Truly, it was as if he was looking through you rather than at you as you turned the conversation to lighter matters – mostly all the wonderful sights you’d seen since arriving in the Holy Land, especially Jerusalem itself. Your observations seemed to please him, and he voiced his gladness that you were, for the most part, enjoying yourself. You’d thanked him for his hospitality, and it wasn’t long after that the discussion ended, king and subject cordially parting ways with nod and curtsey.

Little did you know that one meeting would soon turn into two. Then three. Then more.

Somehow, a few days after your unexpected first encounter, you ran into him again in the garden – though, thankfully, not literally this time. After exchanging a few pleasantries, he once more invited you to further conversation in private, and again you accepted. This time, he inquired if you knew the game of chess, and to your surprise (and secret amusement) he appeared rather pleased when you affirmed that you did. He then promptly challenged you to a match, to which you heartily agreed. Yet even though you were handily beaten, it was an enjoyable game, and you found yourself acquiescing to a future rematch.

It wasn’t long before these games became almost a routine part of your afternoon, save for the days when His Majesty was busy with his council or holding court. And it was during the course of these games that you realized just how lonely he must have been. For the more games you shared, the fewer of them were seen to completion; far more time was spent talking with the board sitting untouched between you than it was actually playing.

He never kept you longer than you desired to stay, and certainly never more than was appropriate for an unmarried lady such as yourself. In fact, he seemed to leave the coming and going mostly to you. Yet you didn’t fail to notice the way his eyes lit up when he saw you, their corners crinkling with a smile you couldn’t otherwise see. It broke your heart that he spent so much of his days, outside his duties, in near-isolation, when he was such a thoughtful, inquisitive, and intelligent soul… such a joy to converse with. And so you’d been sure to praise these qualities amongst your fellow courtiers whenever the chance arose…

It had only just occurred to you in the middle of a recent sleepless night that the reasons behind your persistent compliments might have run a bit deeper than the simple desire to keep his spirit alive in the court he barely saw.

You couldn’t deny the way your heart sped up when your eyes met – those eyes that you couldn’t quite decide were more like the sea or the sky. And it wasn’t just the content of his speech you enjoyed, but the way he delivered it… with a voice that was so easy to listen to for hours on end, so reflective of his serene and introspective nature.

And then there were the times, when he accidentally fumbled the pieces, that your fingers and his gloved ones nearly touched. When you both reached for the fallen pawn only for one of you to swiftly withdraw, each time followed by a soft chuckle. But you couldn’t ignore the sensation that charged the atmosphere, like the feeling that permeated the air just before a storm, and your heartbeat was the warning thunder in your ears…

You shook your head, your thoughts returning to the present as you rubbed your thumb over the brooch’s smooth gem. It was then that the tiniest doubt began to tickle and nag at the back of your mind. What if it wasn’t him at all? What if it was merely a coincidence? Something your heart foolishly yearned for, but that your mind knew well would never happen?

A frown pulled at your lips. Baldwin had proven to be someone to whom you could speak about almost anything without fear of reprisal. Nothing you had confided in him had ever escaped the bounds of his chamber – and there was plenty you had discussed, especially lately. Even if he hadn’t sent this jewel, you could trust him to advise you with wisdom. And despite his relative absence from court, there was no one who knew its members better…

By the time your handmaid returned to help you prepare for the evening, you’d made up your mind.

“I shall wear the blue bliaut tonight. To match this lovely brooch.”

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Even past the bandages of thin linen and the silken veil covering his ears, Baldwin could still hear the distant strains of music floating through the palace’s long and lonely corridors… the latest in Sibylla’s efforts to keep the place lively even as its king slowly wasted away, out of sight and out of mind.

He could have made a surprise appearance, he supposed. He did that on occasion, whenever he felt particularly energetic, much to his physicians’ chagrin. It was mildly intriguing to see what kind of looks he would receive and from whom– though by this point, those expressions and their bearers had become almost boringly predictable. Fear and awe were ever present, manifesting in the form of slackened jaws and widened eyes and hushed whispers behind hands and veils. Rarer looks of disgust and revulsion were always quickly covered by feigned indifference. Then there were those especially-bold souls who dared to reveal their open contempt in their thinned lips and narrowed eyes.

It was pity, however, that he despised the most.

Dread, loathing, hatred – these were all traits with which any monarch could be clothed whether they wished to or not. Such was the burden of leadership. But pity…

Pity was a mantle that was distinctly his to wear.

Every time he saw it in the faces of those who looked upon him, he was reminded that his crown was secondary to his condition. That they saw the Leper before they saw the King. It was not that he lacked appreciation for those who truly worried for his health and his well-being, but in their eyes he saw reflected back at him what he tried desperately to ignore from the moment his physicians departed in the morning until they returned at night to dress his wounds.

The corner of his mouth twitched beneath his mask, and his quill stilled, poised for a moment in the one hand of his that still had life in it before he reached to return the pen to its stand.

Lady Y/N had never looked at him that way.

Sitting back in his chair, he wondered if she was enjoying herself this night. If Sibylla was hosting her well. He hoped that she was, and that his sister had not overwhelmed the poor girl with her almost shamefully lavish tastes. It was evident that Y/N was quite unused to Jerusalem’s abundance in almost every respect; those first few days after her arrival at court, her wide-eyed wonder had rendered her speechless on more than one occasion, or so he’d heard.

A light hum escaped him at the memory of their first meeting. It seemed as though it was forever ago, and yet, at the same time, it felt as if it were only yesterday.

She had been rather distracted, he recalled… so distracted, in fact, that she hadn’t seen him in the corridors, watching as she’d unwittingly wandered into the realm of the royal apartments. With great accuracy, he’d anticipated the trajectory of her meandering steps, and he purposefully made to intercept her before she breached the threshold of what the guards deemed acceptable, even for a lost lady.

Baldwin wasn’t quite as quick as he used to be, though, in part due to that damned dragging foot of his, and he’d neglected to account for his reduction in speed, resulting in an unfortunate collision on the terrace above the gardens.

Or perhaps, he thought in hindsight, it was fortunate after all…

He’d heard enough from his informants to guess who she was. Tiberias and others amongst his court might have suspected she was an assassin simply playing the part of a lost newcomer, and he had to admit that the thought had crossed his own mind, if briefly; in a world such as theirs, it was difficult to imagine anyone without some kind of ulterior motive. Yet it soon became apparent that she was as innocent as the day was long – if there was anything his disease had given him, it was experience reading tone and body language, and he wasn’t certain the best actress in the world could have feigned her level of self-conscious nervousness.

No, Y/N was simply curious and lost. And from what those same informants had told him, she was in desperate need of someone local she could trust. Though evidently satisfied with her new home in every other way, she had been slow to acclimate to the social environment of the court, preferring to keep to herself whenever possible. From this, he suspected her need to get away from the appraising gazes of total strangers was what had initially propelled her away from the great hall, and her natural inquisitiveness had continued to pull her into the quieter depths of the palace.

But the faint smile she’d worn and the sparkle in her eyes had been replaced with fear the instant she realized who she’d run into, and the stuttering apology and low curtsey she’d given him betrayed her anticipation of reprimand.

That was something he’d had to correct, and quickly.

In the moments that followed, he’d gauged it most appropriate for them to smooth over this encounter by getting to know each other better, and thus he’d invited her to do just that in the privacy of his quarters, where they would face little chance of interruption.

As he’d hoped, she’d accepted. And it was this first conversation of theirs that had led him to believe that Lady Y/N was terribly lonely.

Her chatter was slightly nervous and yet, at the same time, somewhat eager. There was little doubt that he’d learned far more about her than she had about him; with but a little coaxing, he had discovered much about her circumstances and about what plagued her. It had displeased him greatly to hear about the thieves that had raided her entourage’s tents on the way to the Holy City, and it irked him even more that she’d lost a treasured possession because of it. Her journey had already been a long and arduous one – had that not been enough?

Y/N put up a rather convincing façade of indifference on the matter, but when he focused on her voice alone, he heard her pain. No, she was no actress, he concluded.

He also hadn’t failed to notice her willingness to make eye contact with him… to look him full in the face and speak freely with every question he asked; she dodged neither query nor gaze. Outside her initial fright on the balcony, she displayed few other signs of trepidation regarding his presence. In fact, it seemed as though she’d just been waiting for someone with whom she could share her thoughts and feelings – as if she’d bottled up everything he’d asked about since arriving in Jerusalem and finally found someone willing to listen.

Had she truly felt so comfortable with him already, or was she simply a trusting soul? He was unaccustomed to both, and it was… refreshing.

His instincts warned him that the jackals of the court would surely eat her alive, and he feared what their viciousness might do to her. What kind of slander and gossip would come from what had been innocent curiosity on her part. How much her character would be maligned for sport. The very thought of it being a possibility made his blood boil.

Over the course of their subsequent conversations, however, he was forced to rethink that initial assumption. Kind-hearted she was, and still too good for the likes of her peers, but she could hold her own among them better than he had anticipated; a few casual inquiries over a few chess matches revealed that much. She saw, heard, and understood far more than her outward appearance would suggest. Behind that warm, gentle, and charmingly-inquisitive exterior was a clever and tenacious woman whom he found to be utterly captivating. No matter the storm around her, she always projected an air of geniality and good cheer, evidently determined not to let this unsettled world tear her down.

In short, the court didn’t deserve her.

He didn’t deserve her.

She never asked him for anything, and likewise she didn’t press questions upon him about his condition. Whenever they passed time together, he felt like neither king nor leper, but like an ordinary man. In her sparkling eyes and healing presence, he saw not pity, but life. A normal life for once. One where he did not have to dread what the next morning might bring.

Alas, that glorious feeling of contentment left him with her every departure.

The sound of exuberant cheers down the corridor pulled him from his musings, and he found himself back in the relative darkness of his chambers, watching the candle’s flame flicker upon his desk. He wondered which dance it was they’d just finished, imagining Y/N in his mind’s eye moving as hypnotically as that very flame. If she danced as beautifully as he envisioned, she would have the whole court entranced…

“Sire, you have a request for an audience.”

The guard called from the entrance to his quarters.

“Who is it?” he asked, hope, dread, and fear all churning in his stomach in a toxic maelstrom. He hadn’t the patience or the energy to deal with most petitioners this night, other than-

“Lady Y/N.”

His eyes widened.

That was quick.

Hope surged forth at the mention of her name, but neither dread nor fear was eliminated by this revelation. Not completely. He had a feeling the gifting of the brooch he’d commissioned would bring her to him sooner or later, but he hadn’t anticipated it being that very day, and especially not with the festivities Sibylla had planned…

Perhaps it is not that, he reminded himself solemnly, but something else altogether.

“I will see her,” he called back at last. “Let her pass.”

There were precious few seconds for him to compose himself before he saw her, at first a shadow at the entrance to his chambers, and then illuminated by lamp and candlelight as she cautiously strode forth. His breath caught in his lungs at the sight of her, her eyes glittering like stars from all those dancing fires. She wore the most beautiful court dress he’d ever seen her in – a sapphire-blue silk bliaut, laced tight at the sides to flatter her form, seemingly a thousand shimmering pleats flowing from her hips to the floor. At her waist had been tied a fabric belt of lighter blue, embroidered in gold, double-wrapped about her body and knotted in front in Frankish style. Her belled sleeves, with their golden trim, allowed only a glimpse of her stark white chemise beneath, and there, upon that same trim that adorned the dress’s wide neckline, had been pinned the brooch, pulling the dipping V above her heart into an elegant keyhole.

“Your Majesty,” she greeted him with a curtsey, offering a smile that shot straight to his heart. “I hope I haven’t come at an inopportune time.”

“Not at all,” he gestured for her to rise, turning in his seat to fully face her, “although I would have expected you to be at my sister’s gathering.”

Another smile. “I was, in fact. Alas, I felt the need to speak with you on a matter of great import. I hope Her Highness can forgive me for my early departure.”

The king nodded once. “I am all but certain she will. I am, however, glad you were at least able to make an appearance,” he remarked as he slowly rose from his chair, stifling a groan that threatened to escape him from his aching limbs. Then, pausing, he tilted his head as he allowed himself to take in her attire once more. “You look lovely. It would have been a shame to have wasted such beauty on my poor eyes alone; better indeed that you allowed others with keener sight the chance to appreciate your taste and talents before slipping away to these dark and distant halls.”

Even in the low candlelight, he could see her cheeks flush, and as her gaze briefly flicked away from his, he felt his twisted lips pull into an unseen smile.

“You are too kind, my lord,” she replied. “In truth, I found myself… inspired… by this new jewel I received just this afternoon.” Her fingers drifted to that very piece, pinned above her heart, and Baldwin forced himself to school his gaze… to pretend he hadn’t been the one to write up the specifics of its creation for the royal jeweler… that he hadn’t entrusted it to Tiberias to give to a capable courier… that he hadn’t prayed to God he hadn’t made an irreversible mistake by daring to tread on this unknown path.

“Do you like it?” she asked suddenly, her eyes meeting his. “Believe it or not, it is, in fact, the subject of my concern.”

Something in both her gaze and her tone told him she’d made the assumption he wished. Good. He had no desire to drag this out; indeed, hadn’t the time for it. And now that she was here, following the lead he’d purposefully fashioned, his only task was to find out if Tiberias was truly right about her and her feelings…

Swallowing back where his heart had gathered in his throat, he replied coolly, “Yes, it suits you. Although, I am uncertain as to why you would approach me for such an opinion,” he added with a chuckle, slightly bemused at the way she was choosing to approach this mystery. Indicating the chess table where they’d held so many conversations of late, he beckoned, “Come. Sit.”

Wordlessly, she acquiesced, dipping her head before moving to take her usual place, as he did his.

“I…” she began after a moment, her stare focused on one of the pieces as he settled himself opposite her. “Well, the truth is, I was hoping I could ask you for advice in a matter related to it. Regarding the one who sent it to me, in fact.”

“Yes?” he prompted as he watched her. Time to confirm that assumption.

“Well, you see… I don’t really know who sent it…”

His eyes met hers, squinting a little. “You don’t?” he asked, keeping the skepticism from his tone as he began to pull her thoughts from her.

“No.” She shook her head. “There was no name on the note that accompanied it, so I cannot know for certain who might have sent it. But,” yet another smile tugged at the corner of her mouth, her eyes sparkling again as she leaned forth and propped her elbows on the edge of the table, “I do have an idea, and I was hoping perhaps I might pass my thoughts by you. You know a great many in your court, after all. Perhaps you could confirm or deny my suspicions?”

Oh yes, she knew. He knew she knew. And now she played with him as much as he with her, both seeking confession…

“Perhaps I could,” he answered musingly. “What are your thoughts, then, Lady Y/N?”

“Well,” she began, dropping her gaze to the pieces once more, her fingertips toying with the white king, “I was just thinking of how appropriate such a gift was. Indeed, the person who sent it must know me rather well. It appeals so much to my tastes and is so fitting given recent events.”

His heart felt like it was about to beat itself out of his chest. “How fortuitous.”

“My thoughts precisely,” she agreed, glancing up at him. “And of those whom I’ve spent the most time with, there are few who would know me in such a manner.”

“Truly?”

“Truly.”

She paused, and he felt her eyes studying him intensely. “In fact, there is only one man who would have known just how fortuitous it was. Only one who would have known I would have need of such a piece. Now,” she leaned back a little, offering him a pointed look, “I do realize that brooches are popular as courting gifts,” she paused, her gaze latching to his, “but even so, I find the choice rather… convenient. Don’t you, my lord?”

“Yes,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. “I understand your meaning.”

Deafening silence stretched between them during which neither of them moved.

“Only one man,” she repeated, her own voice having gone quiet, and Baldwin saw her eyes glimmer in the lamplight. Before he could even open his mouth to offer another comment, she leaned forward again, her gaze burning a hole through him. “Only one man who bothered to know me. To know my heart. To care for me and my life enough to remember what I held dear.” He saw her swallow heavily. “You, my king. You sent it to me, didn’t you?”

“Yes,” he breathed, nodding once in affirmation.

“Do you mean it?”

Her question was barely a whisper, yet Baldwin felt it in his heart – a probing inquiry seeking out the truth of his intentions.

His blood was rushing in his ears. “Every word, written and unwritten.”

And with that final admission everything was confirmed on his part. But as for hers…

The tears were obvious in her eyes now, pooling at the edges of her lashes. In that moment, he was sure he understood how the condemned felt just before the stroke of the headsman’s axe, before the tightening of the hangman’s noose. What would her answer be, then? He knew in his heart it would be better for her to simply walk away. But would she? Would she willingly doom herself to heartbreak?

At last Y/N spoke once more, her voice a tremulous whisper, and he hung upon every word as though his very life depended on it.

“I know this cannot be a courtship in the traditional sense,” she began softly, her liquid stare never leaving his, “and I know what the others will say…”

He began to feel lightheaded. At this rate, he was going to faint before he could hear her answer in full.

“…but I don’t care. For as long as there is life left in both of us, my king, I am yours. In whatever capacity you desire.”

“Oh.”

The word left him on a whoosh of breath, hissing behind his mask as relief washed over him in a powerful wave, every muscle in his body relaxing at once. Yet he couldn’t help the warped smile that overtook his countenance behind that façade of silver at the implications of her words.

She…?

“Yes,” she said with a nod, as if hearing the question his thoughts posed. A soft laugh followed, even as a shimmering tear slowly tracked down her cheek. “I love you, Baldwin. With all my heart. And I have since the day we met.”

At that, then, there was no longer any question of her feelings. He felt his own eyes welling with emotion, and he leaned towards her as close as he dared, propping his good hand on the table for support. “I regret that I will never be able to show you the extent of my own for you, my dear Lady Y/N. But understand this…” he paused, swallowing heavily. “My purest devotion has and always will belong to you. As much as a wretch such as I can be, I, too, am yours.”

She shook her head. “You are no wretch. Not to me.”

It was then her hand slowly moved towards where his gloved one yet lay on the table’s polished surface, and he flinched, a spike of fear darting through him like the bolt from a crossbow. “Y/N, no…”

Her gaze bored into his, her hand yet poised above his own. “I’m not afraid, my lord.”

“Y/N… please…”

The word was barely a whisper, slipping between the slightly-parted lips of his mask before he could catch it – a cry for her to stop and yet a plea for her not to. It was as if he had been paralyzed, unable to move away despite every corner of his mind screaming at him to withdraw.

If the glove was not enough… if it couldn’t safeguard her…

And yet all thoughts of everything came to a halt the moment her fingers lightly grazed his own, his breath catching in his throat. He felt it – the warmth of her through the thin silk – and it took all of his strength not to flinch away from her again, to curl his hand into a fist and recoil in upon himself to protect her from his horrid disease. Her eyes searched his, seemingly sifting through his soul as further she went. Slowly. Steadily. Her fingertips brushed with a feather-light touch over each set of knuckles, back and forth, and he couldn’t breathe. His lungs were desperate for air as she traced the delicate golden embroidery on the back of his hand; they finally betrayed him then, a shuddering exhale followed by a hitched intake of air he was certain she heard.

Yet Y/N only smiled at him once more, in that warm and gentle way of hers, her hand stilling as it rested atop his. And the entire world stilled along with it, his fear slowly ebbing as reason returned to replace it. These touches were all they had, he realized. All they could permit themselves. And yet still they could hold all the tenderness of a kiss.

Speaking of which…

He moved much more gently, then, as he twisted his hand underneath hers to catch her fingers in his grip. His gaze holding hers, he stroked his thumb across her knuckles before bringing that hand to his mask, where the cold and unfeeling lips touched the back of it in place of his own disfigured ones.

Despite not being able to give her a proper kiss, though, she evidently still understood the gesture, as another blush flushed her cheeks. A soft chuckle escaped him, and he remarked dryly, “There appears to be a bit of an obstacle here…”

At that, uncontrollable laughter burst from her, merry and full, and she clamped her other hand over her mouth to muffle it, leaning against the back of the chair as she continued to shake. He, too, laughed softly at her merriment, and for a moment the sound filled the room with a kind of joy it hadn’t witnessed in years.

After a moment, Y/N finally recovered, and she glanced over her shoulder as the faint strains of another song could be heard. Her gaze glittering with stars, both hands grasped his now and gently tugged as she stood. “Come. Dance with me.”

He blinked even as he slowly rose before her. “I… fear I’m not capable of much these days…”

“Not to worry,” she assured him with a grin, “I’ve just the dance in mind. Like this…”

With that, she pulled him to the open floor at the center of his chambers and began to show him the steps – two sidesteps here, two sidesteps there, a slow twirl of the lady in his arms, and begin again. For the first few cycles, she counted quietly until he caught the rhythm, and then there was only a warm, comfortable silence between them, the two gently swaying and turning to the distant music.

Tiberias was right. In that moment, Baldwin knew only happiness. Peace. Comfort. And so long as Y/N, too, felt these things, he could be content with whatever God had willed for him. He could only pray that, upon his death, the Almighty would be merciful to this woman, a living angel on Earth…

================================================

If you made it this far, thank you so much for reading! If you want more of my writing, I also have a WIP Baldwin-centric longfic posted on Ao3 (shameless plug)! 😁Do let me know if you want me to continue this Y/N story! I'd love to hear your thoughts.

Also, the dance mentioned at the end of the story was inspired by this lovely one:

[munchmemes]

taylor swift lyrics, the tortured poets department edition, part two

guilty as sin?

▸ my boredom's bone-deep. ▸ am i allowed to cry? ▸ i'm seeing visions, am i bad? or mad? or wise? ▸ one slip and i'm falling back into the hedge maze. ▸ oh, what a way to die. ▸ i keep recalling things we never did. ▸ how i long for our trysts. ▸ how can i be guilty as sin? ▸ i keep these longings locked inside a vault. ▸ someone told me there's no such things as bad thoughts, only your actions talk. ▸ they're gonna crucify me anway. ▸ what if they way you hold me is actually what's holy? ▸ i choose you and me religiously.

who's afraid of little old me?

▸ the "who's who?`" of "who's that?" is poised for the attack. ▸ you don't get to tell me about 'sad'. ▸ if you wanted me dead, you should've just said. nothing makes me feel more alive. ▸ who's afraid of little old me? you should be. ▸ the scandal was contained, the bullet had just grazed. ▸ at all costs, keep your good name. ▸ you don't get to tell me you feel bad. ▸ is it a wonder i broke? ▸ let's hear one more joke. then we could all just laugh until i cry. ▸ i was tame, i was gentle till the circus life made me mean. ▸ they say they didn't do it to hurt me but what if they did? ▸ i want to snarl and show you just how disturbed this has made me. ▸ you wouldn't last an hour in the asylum where they raised me. ▸ isn't that what they all said? that i'm fearsome and i'm wretched and i'm wrong. ▸ you lured me and you hurt me and you taught me. ▸ you caged me and then you called me crazy. ▸ i am what i am 'cause you trained me.

i can fix him (no really i can)

▸ the jokes that [you/they] told across the bar were revolting and far too loud. ▸ they shake their heads, saying "god help [them]" when i tell 'em you're the one. ▸ i can fix him, no really i can. and only i can. ▸ i could see it from a mile away. ▸ you had a halo of the highest grade, you just hadn't met met yet. ▸ come close, i'll show you heaven if you'll be an angel all night. ▸ trust me, i can handle me a dangerous [man/woman].

loml

▸ we were just kids, babe. ▸ i don't mind, it takes time. ▸ i thought i was better safe than starry-eyed. ▸ i felt aglow like this. never before and never since. ▸ you and i went from one kiss to getting married. ▸ you said i'm the love of your life about a million times. ▸ a conman sells a fool a get-love-quick scheme. ▸ i felt a hole like this never before and ever since. ▸ what we thought was for all time was momentary. ▸ i wish i could un-recall how we almost had it all. ▸ the coward claimed he was a lion. ▸ i'll still see it until i die. you're the loss of my life.

i can do it with a broken heart

▸ i can show you lies. ▸ i'm a real tough kid, i can handle my shit. ▸ they said 'you gotta fake it 'til you make it' and i did. ▸ you said you'd love me all your life but that life was too short. ▸ i can do it with a broken heart. ▸ i'm so depressed, i act like it's my birthday every day. ▸ i cry a lot but i am so productive, it's an art. ▸ you know you're good when you can even do it with a broken heart. ▸ i can hold my breath, i've been doing it since [you/they] left. ▸ i'm miserable and nobody even knows!

the smallest man who ever lived

▸ was any of it true? ▸ now you know what it feels like. ▸ i don't miss what we had. ▸ in public, you showed me off then sank in stoned oblivion. ▸ you didn't measure up in any measure of a man. ▸ were you sent by someone who wanted me dead? ▸ good riddance 'cause it wasn't sexy once it wasn't forbidden. ▸ i would've died for your sins. instead i just died inside. ▸ in plain sight you hid but you are what you did. ▸ i'll forget you but i'll never forgive.

the alchemy

▸ this happens once every few lifetimes. ▸ these chemicals hit me like white wine. ▸ what if i told you i'm back? ▸ the hospital was a drag. worst sleep i ever had. ▸ ditch the clowns, get the crown. ▸ what if i told you we're cool? ▸ honestly, who are we to fight the alchemy? ▸ where's the trophy?

clara bow

▸ all your life, did you know you'd be picked like a rose? ▸ i'm not trying to exaggerate but i think i might die. ▸ this town is fake but you're the real thing. ▸ take the glory, give everything. ▸ promise to be dazzling. ▸ you're the new god we're worshipping. ▸ beauty is a beast that roars down on all fours, demanding more. ▸ it's hell on earth to be heavenly. ▸ them's the breaks, they don't come gently.

[valerielovebug]

✧Doves and Serpents✧

Larissa X Fem!reader

I have the song "Be My Baby" by the Ronettes stuck in my head, I have to try and sneak it in. (⁠｡⁠ŏ⁠﹏⁠ŏ⁠) !NOT PROOF READ!

Word count: 2.4k

☁️ Warnings: One pitiful reader... Mention of death, No more I think?

Medusa had spent centuries in her stone gardens, vines crawling up the statues of children, men and women, young and old. It was lonely, far more than you could imagine; no friends, no family, only the cold breeze and the lifeless eyes of stone.

Saddened souls pushed into the ocean's waters with crashed ships that were manipulated by waves. The cycle never ended, until one day it did.

✧

Nevermore. The school for outcasts, crazies, freaks.

You ran up the stone stairs of the school, holding on to documents and papers for dear life; stumbling over your feet as you pushed up the papers with your leg, fixing your hold on them as you lifted the now-freed hand to the old, wood door, knocking on it a few times.

You stood there awkwardly, waiting for a response before the doors opened, revealing a tall blonde woman with wine red lips and cerulean eyes. "Oh! You must be the new History Professor, yes?" The woman spoke, her voice elegant and charming, smooth like the ripples of water. She was obviously an English woman, honestly, the entire town was American and English in the land of Romania. It was like their own little world in a different setting.

"Yes- Yes, I must be." You muttered, considering you were only starting your first day. Nerve wracking.

The woman only seemed to smile, obviously understanding and familiar with the nerves that seemed to radiate off of you. "My name is Larissa Weems, you can call me Larissa, if you'd like." She hummed, stepping aside, gesturing you into her office.

You slowly stepped in, looking around at everything. The ceiling was nothing but a bunch of mirrors, there was a giant Medusa head with a fireplace in the mouth of it with a vintage chaise in front of it. A cozy combination.

Larissa walked to her desk, "Have a seat, please." She spoke, yet her words fell on deaf ears as you admired the fireplace. "That's Medusa, isn't it?" You muttered, slightly stumbling over your own feet at a failed attempt to take a step back.

"I... Yes, it is... Or, I assume it is. I've always considered it to be." She spoke, squinting her eyes and tilting her head as she watched you in bewilderment. "Please, Professor, I insist that you take a seat." She repeated, her tone was soft but it was painfully clear to see that she was growing impatient.

You caught yourself and looked at her, your face flushing in embarrassment. "Oh, yes-! Forgive me, I apologize!" You stammered, quickly taking a seat in the chair that was opposite of her desk, picking at your nails nervously.

You held your papers in your lap, your fingers stumbling as you tried to fix their order. "It's quite alright, professor." She sighed, tapping her pen. "Since it's your first day, I'm going to monitor and help you along the way, is that alright?" Larissa hummed, tilting her head with a sweet, charming smile.

You hesitated, the weight of teaching a class with new students in a new land, along with the pressure of the principal watching you stumble over words? "Yeah, sounds good!"

✧

It was not good. You dropped a few papers here and there, making the students giggle as you stumbled over your words all at once. You almost even tripped over your own desk... You looked pitiful, but over all, the students understood what you were explaining and teaching. A few raised hands quickly fell when you finished your sentence, making look feel proud in being able to answer their questions without them having to ask it.

One of the students questions made your brain short circuit. "How does electricity know where to go in the wires?" The question was, making you take a breath in disbelief. "This... This is History class...?" You muttered, pointing to the board that had small drawings and sentences about the Italian catacombs.

Your eyebrows furrowed and your eyes slightly squinted. Your mouth fell open just a bit, "I... That's science... You'll have to ask Mr. Hummer..." You spoke gently, taking a small sip of your still-hot honey and milk tea.

The bell suddenly rang as you were mid-sentence about how the Catacombs in Italy were used, making you sigh and nod, yelling out, "I'll see you tomorrow, then!"

You grabbed your binder, tucking a few art pieces into the pocket of the folder, along with some actual history papers on the other side before closing it. Your hands reached for a book that was on your desk, touching only cold wood. You looked up, meeting Larissa's concentrated face as she flipped through the pages with her fingers.

"Weems!" You squeaked, watching her go through your personal history book, full of your writing and self-drawn illustrations. A lot of it was random, from the Italy Catacombs, to the Holocaust, to the guillotines from France.

She turned to a page in the guillotine section, "Was Anne Boleyn's mouth really moving after decapitation?" She questioned, looking up from the book and to your pretty eyes. A faint smile graced your lips, "Well, it's a story that's exciting to think about... But it seems highly illogical that it actually happened." You replied, not wanting to seem desperate for the book back in your hands.

"After decapitation, the head is still conscious for maybe 25 to 30 seconds. Though, you have very important muscles in your neck that are needed to be able to move your mouth. So, using that logic, her mouth was most-likely not moving since her neck was severed." You rambled, obviously fascinated by the idea, but not able to deny the facts.

It would be nice to be able to believe impossible things, but even so, you had always liked to be logical about things. "It's an amazing story, fun to believe and think about... But science has to ruin things for you." You hummed, slowly extending a hand, silently asking for the book back.

She gave a small huff but reluctantly placed the book back into your hands, her fingers lingering on the brown leather. “I hope someday you’ll lend it to me, your illustrations are beautifully drawn.” She spoke with a kind smile, clasping her hands together in front of her as she looked down at you. There was a little shimmer in her eye, one that was filled with curiosity and intrigue, which made you slightly flustered.

“Oh, it’s just common information… I can give you the sections and they’re easy to find on Google?” Lie. The information was on google, but it wasn’t easy to find. You had gone down rabbit hole after rabbit hole, taking information from every website you came across and then matched up what made sense. Only when everything matched up in perfect understanding did you write it down. A history buff at its finest, you supposed.

A disappointed frown snuck onto Larissa’s face, making you slightly wince at the fact you had upset her. You looked around awkwardly, obviously not easy to convince, no matter how badly you wanted to give in. History was important to know, and fun to teach and explain, but by the Gods- you were attached to that book. It wasn’t even finished and yet it had taken you about a year to get as far as you were, spending maybe a month on each subject before writing down what you knew, along with drawing the illustrations.

“I uhm… It’s a very important book to me… I’d have to be sitting right beside you in order for you to look at it.” You spoke shyly, not wanting to upset her any further. She only hummed, biting the inside of her cheek as she looked at you, making you feel incredibly small, which was not on your first-day bingo list. “Is it a finished book?” She questioned, her voice kind despite how you felt.

You hesitated, knowing that it was thick enough to compete with the fifth book in the Harry Potter series, which held 912 pages. “Uhm…” You trailed off, looking at the book. “There's maybe two or three more things I have to write down before I move on to the next journal…” You spoke with a subtle shrug, looking up at her, noticing her eyes soften. 

“I see… Well, when it’s finished, perhaps we could read it together in the library? I find it very intriguing since you were the one who wrote and illustrated it.” Her voice was kind and understanding, but mainly patient. A small smile formed on her vermillion lips, making your heart flutter in pride. 

It was an enticing offer, an offer that honestly made you feel special. The idea of being close to her in order to read the book made your nerves slightly spike, since you didn’t really like people in your personal space. Yet the idea of being noticed for simply writing history articles in a journal did excite you, more than you cared to admit. “Yeah… Sure, that sounds alright… I can estimate that it might take me a few weeks to finish it since there's so much history on the dancing Plague of 1518.” You finally spoke, looking down at the book as you placed it into your bag. 

“The dancing plague?” She questioned, obviously baffled at the idea of dancing being a horrible plague. It made you genuinely smile, the thought of introducing something new to her and being able to teach it to her in a depth that not many would be aware of. (Considering all the time it took to surf the web on a single subject took you weeks and only a day or two to write things down and illustrate.) You nodded your head slightly, “The name speaks for itself. Though, I’d be glad to teach you all about it when we go over my book whenever it’s fully finished?” You hummed, obviously excited to impress your boss with information she never knew existed.

Her smile widened, excited by your offer. “Yes! That sounds exciting! I’m sure you have some other history subjects that I’m unaware of, perhaps you could show me them?” She quipped, her pearly white teeth charming you, the way her eyes slightly squinted and wrinkled the corners of her eyes, it was prideful to say that you were the one to make her smile so big.

You nodded kindly before letting out a hum, “It’d be an honor… Dinner is starting, I think.” You muttered, looking at your watch, still getting used to the schedule, “Also, I haven’t gotten a spare key for my room… would it be alright if I made a copy? I tend to lose things a lot.” You added, looking up at her from your watch, reaching for your bag but horribly missing, making you look down and sigh.

“Yes, I believe it’s chicken and dumplings tonight, a warm welcome into winter, don’t you think?” She spoke pridefully, slightly lifting her chin. It made you smile, seeing how happy she was with her dinner choice. “A warm welcome indeed, perhaps I can suggest Risotto for another dinner? It’s a great Italian dish.” You muttered, picking up your satchel bag, putting it on your shoulder. 

She tilted her head, studying you for a moment. What an odd thing, you suggesting an Italian dish other than pizza, lasagna, or spaghetti? You didn’t even sound Italian, but, then again, no one in their town spoke Romanian or had a Romanian accent. “That sounds lovely… I’ll suggest it to the chef.” She muttered, looking down at her red painted nails. “Would you like to walk down to dinner with me? We can stop by your room so you can lay your stuff down?” She suggested, looking at you curiously. 

A simple smile graced your lips, “No need, I’ll take my stuff with me.” You hummed, grabbing your drink bottle, gesturing towards the door, indicating that you were ready. She nodded and walked out of the classroom, waiting patiently as you closed up your classroom, but not locking it just in case a student forgot anything. You turned to her and walked along with her, making sure to keep the same relaxed pace with her strides. The air was light, yet it was an awkward quiet. “What made you want to become a History professor?” She spoke, breaking the treacherous silence.

It took you a moment to think about your answer, finally opening your mouth to speak. “It was never really a part of the plan, if I’m being honest. My dream was just to be a poet or an author, but my complex dream was to be an astronomer. Which, it’s not going to happen since I'm pretty bad at Math.” You muttered, slightly shrugging, “Yet, the thought of working in this huge gothic highschool was also pretty cool. Not to mention the students are nice and reasonable.” 

Her smile widened at the mention of her students and her school, it was something she prided herself on; rightfully so, too. She looked at your face, admiring the beautiful color of your skin, then your eyes. “You look like a History professor.” She hummed, making you slightly confused, unsure if it was a compliment or not. You turned your head in silence, trying to figure out how you felt about that. “It’s a compliment. It makes you silly smart on topics for listeners.” She spoke, gently bumping your shoulder with her arm. 

A little smile formed on your lips, it wasn’t usual for you to talk a lot, usually you were the listener when others spoke. But, at the same time, you would get really heated when a certain topic was brought up, especially when you argued with people during back-and-forth debate. “I suppose so.” You muttered, glancing over at her with a little sparkle in your eyes.

It was clear that you and the principal would get along well, but only time will tell. Dinner was filled with discussion between you and Larissa while sweet songs played from one of the student’s speakers, “DJ” was her name, or at least her nickname. This time, the song theme was “Vintage” from what the girl called it, making you smile and shake your head as the playlist shuffled through Frank Sinatra, Tim Curry, Elvis Presley, and The Ronettes. The Ronettes were currently playing, “Be my Baby” while some of the students danced around. You looked at Larissa, biting back a grin as she held her bowl to her mouth, drinking the remaining broth from her chicken and dumplings.

It was endearing, and that’s when you decided, this place was your forever home.

✧

Do we want another part? 乁⁠[⁠ᓀ⁠˵⁠▾⁠˵⁠ᓂ⁠]⁠ㄏ Requests right Here!

Tag List: @barbarasstar @anothersapphicgirl

Also: @milfsloverblog bc I wanna know if she's proud of me (●ˇ∀ˇ●)

[idontknowmyownmind]

OG!Cale Fanfics Recommendation

COMPLETED

[og!Cale-centric] in accordance by pheenick 💝

[LCF] Love is gone by sleepycale 💝

[LCF] Are you saying Goodbye? by JadedMindscape

[og!AlCale] "Unexpected Meetings" - series by abralhugres

[og!AlCale] "dreams" - series by abralhugres

[og!AlCale] the root of the problem by abralhugres

His Majesty's Messenger by Aisha_mirai

A Man who had No Love by Justsamrandumbfujoshi

[og!Cale-centric] Forgive Dad by Verzy

[og!AlCale] Winter Affliction by abralhugres

[og!Cale-centric] the red means... [you belong to me] by Further_From_Humanity 💝

it's you by Milamimi

[og!AlCale] In another life by Verzy

[og!AlCale] don’t go where i can’t follow by shuangxuans 💝

[og!AlCale] a Lout and a Prince by abralhugres

[og!AlCale] the villainess gets revenge by abralhugres

[RokCale] feelings too strong to contain by abralhugres

[RokCale] Type of kisses by wifteria

[RokCale] Knock on the Coffin by esdegen 💝

[RokCale] Salvation & Sin by Luc_00 (Dawn_007)

[CJS x Heniroksoo] you drew stars around my scars (but now i’m bleeding) by todoloey

[og!AlCale] "Switched" - series by abralhugres

[og!Cale-centric] Nightmare in the Flesh by Verzy

Complicated by abralhugres

[Og!StarCale] Cry for me by wifteria 💝

[ROokCale] Why Cale Henituse can't leave the duchy by wifteria

[Og!AlCale] ( IF I AM THE SUN ) by AKingsAffection

[RokCale] the secrets we left under the distant sky by Luc_00 (Dawn_007)

[RokCale] You Are Mine by ThisIsVee 💝

ON-GOING

[LCF AlCale] Crown Prince's Rule Breaker by minamintsoo

[LCF x ORV] The Kimcom in Rowoon by Tsukki_yan 💝

[LCF x ORV] Crossing Paths by your_serialdreamer

One Bad End is Enough by AsterEfflores 💝

Can't an Old Man Die in Peace? by AsterEfflores

[og!Cale-centric] his brother's keeper by thursdays 💝

Cut Yourself On My Glass Plate by SkylerSkyhigh 💝

Open Your Eyes And Take A Look Around You. by VaraUser 💝

Reacting to Reading by Cortes01

Acquaint Fate by Unlucky_Cactus 💝

[LCF] Ancient Powers Hijack Cale's Body by mishamoonberry

[og!AlCale] Fuck our Problems by Verzy 💝

[og!AlCale] death is the only ending for the trash queen by abralhugres

[og!AlCale] crossed fates - series by abralhugres 💝

[og!AlCale] puppy love by abralhugres

[og!Cale-centric] Vermilion made of Cinnabar by PoisonousLana

[PolySoo x og!Cale] more is better ;D by abralhugres, small_mew 💝

[LCF x BNHA] BNHA react to TCF by KNX7

Hunter by Theta_Shi

[og!Cale-centric] OG!Cale receives a family by Verzy

The Silver Coin and The Pretty Rock by ThisIsVee 💝

This Time Around by ThisIsVee

everyone around him dies by abralhugres 💝

[og!ChoiCale] 그렇더라고요 (When You Love Someone) by mishamoonberry 💝

[og!AlCale] (what we lose in the fire) by AKingsAffection 💝

my world as i wish for by mishamoonberry 💝

Group Hug!!!! by squidballsinc

[RokCale] Damage control by Mir_Hope20 💝

Patchwork Soul by ThisIsVee 💝

Cale's Guide to Raising Your Yandere Brother by GingerVee (ThisIsVee), ThisIsVee 💝

End My Suffering Dear Duke! by Aceresa 💝

[RokCale] Everyone Deserves to be Loved by Loveable_Psychopath

[RokCale) Zenith of the Crimson Sun and the Obsidian Moon by Kimera20

I Reject The Maidens! by C0rr3ct 💝

[RokCale] Sleeping Partners (they really just sleep) by FollowerOfCaleism 💝

[RokCale] The Sun Proposed to the Moon by Nami_San18

Blood is Thicker than Wine by seasskies 💝

💝 The one I love the most ❤❤❤

This is my latest updated og!Cale fanfictions I've read

The one without [...] in front of its title means that the story /somehow/ involved both KRS and Cale

And, yes, I'm a hardcore og!AlCale and RokCale shipper

I do read some krs!Cale-centric fanfiction but when it come to LCF 'canon'-verse, I avoided E-rated and shippy ones and I don't usually bookmarked them

It's hard to find one to my liking because most M-rated and T-rated ones still with ships and s3xual content while there are few with those rates because of the theme or gore or language but most are not, so...

I like the light read ones, but most of the times I just want to read the heavy ones that without ships but those are so rare...

Idk whether you, @grumpywiltedlettuce, already read them or not but these are the one I like the most!!

Will updated if I found more!!