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filmtv2022 · 6 days ago

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Part II: Our Time is Limited (18+)

Part One

Pairing: Geta x reader & platonic!Caracalla x reader

Synopsis: Geta and you deal with the aftermath of Caracalla's outburst, finding comfort in each other. Not only is there Caracalla's illness to attend to, but those who surround the emperors are growing more and more weary of their reign. As loyalty wanes, so does the inner circle's patience with your ever-constant presence and the emperors' hot tempers. With so much at stake the balance between keeping the peace and protecting those you love becomes muddy.

Warnings: sexual activity/smut + alcohol consumption + wounds/wound care

A/N: Well, this took a while to write, and I feel like there is more I want to add to this story. So, be on the lookout for part 3 (There may even be a few more parts if it continues to be well received)! I truly cannot say how thankful I am for the response to part 1. I felt the love for sure! So thank you to everyone who read that and has stuck with me here! And as always, please forgive me for any and all mistakes. We're going for a "fun" time... not always a historically accurate time!

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No light apart from the moon illuminated the grand bed chamber of the emperor upon your waking. Depending on how it was considered, the hour was either incredibly early or late. No sound could be heard from the hall or the open balcony. The silence should have been comforting, but a nagging pit in your stomach kept you from returning to sleep. A chill had collected in the air. Reprieve from its sting came in the form of Geta’s study frame tangled with yours beneath the luscious sheets. His body produced heat like a raging fire whose flames were fed with rage and the desperate clamber for power.

His protective warmth painted your skin in a heavy flush. Your head tipped back to stare at the man whose body melded with yours in a way that surely must have been crafted by the gods. Like this, lost to sleep, Geta’s youth was easy to see. The healthy glow of his unmarred skin was alluring, drawing your hand from under the covers you traced delicate patterns over his toned chest. Tension in your hip forced you to adjust yourself. Shifting your weight, you accidentally brushed the wound on your cheek. The sudden flash of fresh pain rippled in erratic shocks down the tender column of your throat causing you to hiss. Beside you, Geta stirred in his sleep.

Uncomfortable and fighting back the multitude of possibilities that flooded your mind, you gave in to the reality that returning to sleep was growing less and less likely. Prone to fitful sleep, even with the sedative, Caracalla was sure to begin fighting his forced slumber sooner rather than later. As carefully as you could, you tried to extricate yourself from Geta’s embrace. You’d managed to free your bare thighs from between his own when the groggy grumble of his voice stopped you cold.

“Where are you going?” He reached for you, hauling you back before finally opening his eyes. Your chest sat flush with his, and your good cheek rested on him, as his feather-light touch sought any part of you he could reach. The shapes he drew were hypnotizing, jumbling the words in your head. Concerned by your lack of reply, Geta rolled you on your back, allowing him to see your entire face as he rested his weight over part of your body. “It’s early. Stay with me a few hours more.”

“You know as well as I do the fickle nature of the sedative. I do not wish for him to wake alone. He can be… He can be so scared and lost without a familiar face to ground him when he comes to.” Messy strands of hair stuck to his forehead, tempting you to fix them. With a ghosting touch, you brushed them away from his face. The rich hue of his eyes followed your every move.

“And you will be there when he needs you, but that is not now. For now, I need you… here… in my bed.” He followed his thought with the trail lips between your breasts. Each graze was accompanied by a tender bite, leaving behind more evidence of the night only he’d be blessed enough to see. Geta continued to move lower, tasting every inch of skin he could find before pausing to look back at you through hooded lids. The arch of your spine sent heat washing over him.

Struggling to breathe properly, you reached for any part of him you could find. The flare of pleasure that overtook you as Geta came closer to where you wanted him was blinding. With eyes screwed shut, you couldn’t keep the huff of laughter from escaping as you spoke, “You are insatiable, emperor.”

Nipping at your hipbone he murmured against flushed skin. “I am making up for lost time.” Threading your deft fingers through his messy copper locks, you gripped at the root and tugged roughly earning you a delicious hum. Geta's focus became entirely on drawing those delicious noises from you once more, and to that end he was successful. Gooseflesh ran over your body as chilled air drifted all around. With nothing between you and the emperor, you fell completely to his mercy and desire.

Geta’s shoulders dipped lower allowing him to wrap one defined arm around your thigh while the other explored the marks he’d created earlier. From his position, he could feel the way your body quaked under his touch. The power he had over you with just the help of his tongue and calloused fingers threw every unwanted thought and worry to the side. This was all he wanted, all he’d ever desired. What once remained fantasy was now freely given.

A particularly well-placed kiss had you rolling your hips searching for more. Geta’s teasing no longer satisfied the well of lust that threatened to drown you alive. On instinct, your hold tightened, hauling a rumbling groan from him that nearly eclipsed the pitful whimper in which you begged.

“Geta… Please��”

Skimming along your body with his own, he felt the buttery expanse of your skin. Your pebbled breasts pressed into his chest as his breath ghosted in your ear. “Use your words, tell me what you crave.”

“I want you. I want to feel-.” You were cut off by the drag of his fingertips along your most sensitive of skin. The nerves there fired in quick succession, leaving you to focus on the journey his mouth took along the slope of your shoulder. Unsatisfied, yearning for the weight of him, you reached between you. The fragile strength of your trembling fingers wrapped around his cock. Rolling your wrist, Geta shivered. His hips twitched ruining his self-control.

“Then you shall have me.” Were it not for his desperation to fulfill your every wish, he could have stayed like this and let you bring him to his release with just the delectable skill of your hand. Without fanfare, Geta moved quickly, the firm press of him hard against your core had you moaning in anticipation. His lips captured yours in a devouring kiss pulling the focus from the pressure that built as he pressed into you. Your plush walls spasmed in time with the roll of his hips into your own. Tongues and teeth clashed in a fight for control. Even here, where he felt the most vulnerable as if his soul was laid bare for you to consume, he clung to the power that acted as a crutch in his daily life. But the fight was a losing battle.

Geta’s eye fluttered shut, closing him off from you as he buried his countenance into the crook of your neck, and that simply wouldn’t do. You knew this part of him, the boy, now man, that retreated inside himself when things grew too much. The bold and confident facade he put on for the public was a disguise that few had been able to decipher... apart from you. Tenderly, you traced the length of his spine, paying attention to the way he shuddered under your touch. Much softer than before, you wound your fingers through his hair while guiding his brow to your own.

“Look at me. Do not hide from me now.” Your words enveloped him, easing him back to the present and away from whatever tried to steal him from you. Carefully Geta met your eyes. Their normal severity was absent, replaced with the soft haze of adoration.

“I love you.” The tender confession tumbled from your lips, and the truth of it shattered the last vestiges of the barrier that ran between you. All walls had been abandoned. The steady snap of his thrusts brought the pair of you closer to oblivion. Together you fell, the steady crash of energy over every nerve filled the space with heady moans of pleasure.

Too soon for your liking the moment waned, leaving you breathless and weak beneath him. Geta rested his weight along his forearms to prevent crushing you. From his position, he watched a new line of crimson spill down your cheek. The sight of it brought a flood of unwanted emotions swirling in his stomach.

“You're bleeding again.” His voice wobbled with exhaustion and worry. The thick pad of his thumb brushed away the evidence, smearing the dried blood from hours before with the bright hue of that which flowed currently. From this proximity, Geta got a truer picture of your condition. Deep patches of black and purple bloomed across your cheek and brow, but that was not what fumbled the rhythm of his heart.

The hidden outline of fingers around the base of your throat undid him. Masked by the layer of dried ichor that coated your throat he saw the depth of his brother’s illness. Never had he imagined Caracalla would be capable of hurting you in this way. The slice of a blade had been beyond reason, but his hand around your throat… that was unconscionable.

Rage burned hot, the flare of his nostrils timed with the heavy rise and fall of his chest as he tried to calm himself. You knew without a doubt the thoughts that sped through his mind. Anger, disbelief, sorrow but most of fury. “I will never let him lay his hands upon you again.”

“Please, don’t make promises you can’t keep, Geta.” Something new flashed in his eyes as he looked down at you, and the sight of it broke tender and soft. “Even you cannot keep me safe from him, not entirely. I want to believe that everything wrong about our lives will right itself in time, but that is a childish, fool-hardy thought. Even you cannot deny that.”

“Why? This is… what we share… Why cannot we find a way out of this mess together? Shouldn’t we be allowed happiness?” The same reasoning from the night before returned. A pitiful well of dampness pooled at the corners of his eyes. The dejected young man who looked to others for reassurance in everything he did bore himself to you fully. “I can keep you safe. Do you trust me?”

“With my life.” You reached for him, pulling his lips to yours in a sympathetic and calming embrace. It lasted just long enough for his breathing to settle and his mind to slow. Gently, Geta shifted his weight away from your body giving you space to recover. Torn from his steadying presence, you rolled onto your side following him with your gaze as he slipped from the bed. He pulled a robe from the floor and wrapped it around himself. Exhaustion crossed your vision and dulled your mind, lulling you closer to sleep. Only the gentle clink of glass against glass kept you from falling away entirely.

Geta returned to you quickly, his hands full of what appeared to be vials of acetum and honey, two clean cloths resting over his wrist. Finding a spot to deposit the vials on the bed, he took one of the rags. With some hesitation, he reached between your plush thighs, wiping away the mess the pair of you'd made. The sudden jolt of your hips as he reached your core slowed his hand, easing the strength with which he worked. Your weight settled back into the plush sheets as he finished and discarded the cloth upon the flood.

“Sit up.” His words were tender, holding none of the desperation from before. Following his command, you lifted yourself from the comfort of the bed, the sheets crumpled further under your movement. Geta’s eyes raked over your body, admiring the swell of your bare breasts and the curve of your waist. A glint of something more akin to lust was shown briefly before he settled into the space next to you. With practiced care and thoughtful hands, the emperor cleansed your wounds and removed the remnants of dried blood. Your focus never left his face as he worked. Instead, you took the time to memorize the tug of concentration between his brows. Deep lines formed there creating a picture of what was to come, of an older Geta, of an emperor marked by the passage of time. You prayed the gods would favor you, for that was a vision you prayed to see in person.

“There, that’s better.” Geta twisted to discard the vials and cloth upon the nearby stand. “Come, let us sleep. The day is sure to be long enough without the edge of weariness dulling our minds.”

Slowly, you sank back into each other’s arms, your bodies together in perfect harmony as sleep overtook the pair of you.

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Fresh morning light seeped into the sea of curtains around the bed chamber. Were it not for the pressing knaw of anxiety, you’d have happily stayed curled in Geta’s arms. But that was not a possibility. Knowing that time was running short to return to Caracalla before he woke, you extricated yourself from the comfort of your lover's embrace.

The marble was startlingly cold beneath your feet forcing you to work quickly to find your discarded robe. The memory of the night before was stunningly clear making it easy to find your blood-stained clothes. Stooping, you grabbed the creamy fabric, shoving your arms inside before tying it tightly around your waist.

You chanced a glance over your shoulder at Geta who was still peaceful in his bed. Without further hesitation, you disengaged the lock and made your way into the mostly empty hall. Only two guards remained posted to protect the emperor. Thankfully, the comings and goings of women from Geta’s chamber were nothing new. Your presence there may have been different from the norm, but it was hardly shocking given the previous night’s difficulties.

Your bare footsteps, pounded down the hallway toward Caracalla, praying to the gods that you’d find him asleep. Rounding the corner, you watched as the guards parted to allow you into the room. There were no questions or need to exchange words, this room had been your home for more than a decade. Not a soul would question your presence inside.

Caracalla’s living quarters were nearly as extravagant as his brothers. The only strange addition was that of his pet monkey who sat alert on the table, gnawing at the fresh fruit that had been placed there the night before for his consumption. Dundus chirped at your arrival, announcing it to his still-slumbering owner. Curled in a ball on his side, the emperor lay oddly upon the covers.

There was nothing comfortable or dignified about how he was left. With soft steps, you made your way to him. His chest rose and fell in shallow waves marking the hold the medication still had upon his mind. Much the same as his brother, he looked far younger in sleep, and yet with Caracalla, the evidence of his poor health would never fully disappear. The sores on his face had broken through the remnants of the makeup on his tear-stained cheeks. A measure of guilt flooded your veins, churring the acid in your empty stomach and forcing you into action.

Beside the vanity sat a pitcher of clean water and a rag you’d readied before things fell apart the previous evening. It had become your nightly ritual to clean Caracalla’s face of the day’s makeup before covering each mark upon his skin with acetum and honey. It kept the bond between you strong as you were the only person he allowed to care for him in that way.

Coming face to face with the mirror, you did your best to avoid your reflection, but ignoring it was nearly impossible. Your fingers wrapped around the pitcher as you poured it into the empty bowl that sat in the center of the flat surface. The motion was done on instinct giving you time to assess your injuries personally.

A deep purple swath had formed around your eye, seeping down below the slash that marked your cheekbone. The bruise throbbed with every flick of your eye, but it was the deep cut that truly pained you. A thin line of dried blood sat in the wound creating a gruesome visage. Nothing could hide the terrifying mark of the fingers that had closed around your throat before the final attack. Even in the light of day, you could feel their presence as though the hand remained heavy against you.

Glancing dead ahead into the mirror, the most terrifying part of all was not the injuries, it was not knowing who would wake up and rejoin the world when Caracalla rose. The pitcher clanked against the stone as you sat it down to grab the cloth. Dampening the thin fabric, you wrung it out and collected the vial of acetum and jar of honey to soothe his sores before returning to the emperor. There was just enough space on the edge of the bed for you to sit near his head. With gentle strokes, you cleansed his face, being sure to give extra care to spots of broken skin. Free of the mask, the progression of his illness became more apparent. Using the same rag, you dabbed the acetum on each of the marks before following with the golden liquid in the hope that it would provide some relief.

It took only minutes for you to finish caring for the emperors’s needs, but it felt like an eternity. Part of you hoped he would wake as you worked but another part of you prayed he would continue to rest. Discarding the rag and other supplies nearby, you found yourself gravitating toward Caracalla’s slumbering frame. A deep ache radiated deep in your soul, gripping you tightly in an unrelenting hold. No matter how far he’d fallen, no matter the faults of his mind, this man would forever be yours. He’d forever be the one who captured your heart first and for that, you were eternally grateful.

The bridge of your nose burned as you fell into his presence. The clean scent of his robes mixed with the bitter tang of wine that clung to him. Fearful of letting him go, you wrapped an arm around his side and hauled yourself close. Your fists twisted into the flowing fabric at his back as you hid your face in his chest. Shrouded in him, your lungs hitched, tears streamed in searing lines down your cheeks, stinging the raw skin around your wound. But that was secondary to the hole that grew in your heart every time you allowed yourself to contemplate Caracalla's remaining time.

Hours slipped away unnoticed, leaving the pair of you to while away the minutes in each other’s arms. In time, the gods must have favored your first desire, for as the blinding rays of early morning crept toward midday, Caracalla stirred beside you. Uncertain of what was to come, you kept your visage concealed.

“Good morning, my love. How does the new day find you?” Your voice trembled with worry as you watched him push to sit beside you. A hazy fog slowed his mind and his speech, forcing you to be patient as he reached out to touch your cheek. His brows pulled together in concern at the sight. The soft brush of his fingertips over the cut sent fresh lances of hurt zinging down your neck. Still silent, Caracalla watched the way you recoiled from him before attempting to speak.

“You are injured. Who hurt you?” There was so much innocence in his eyes. Without question, there was no memory of the previous night, and for that you were thankful. Caracalla knowing that he’d caused you this pain would have done nothing but burden an already fragile man with more turmoil.

You shook your head, hoping to shove off the worry as best you could. “No one hurt me. I decided to venture to the baths after too much wine. I lost my footing and slipped. It is my fault.” With what little strength you could muster, you sat up fully beside him.

“Does it hurt terribly?” He took your hand and held it in his lap.

“No, not terribly.” Your free hand rose to hold his cheek, “I promise.” Quiet fell over the pair you allowing Caracalla to trace the map of bruises that marred your neck. Even he noticed the odd shape of the marks low upon your throat. You could see the thought teeter on his lips for a moment before the words tumbled from him so childlike and sincerely. Nearly the same words his brother had spoken to you just hours earlier.

“I will always protect you, you must know that.” He held your gaze tightly in his, running his thumb over the back of your hand while he waited for you to respond.

“I do. I do.” And the falsehood of your reply brought fresh tears to your eyes. Despite the many factors that stood between you and the happy life you'd once thought possible with Caracalla, you loved him beyond reason. Even though you were losing your best friend in real-time to an illness that was as mysterious in its origin as in its timeline of destruction, you trusted him. He’d stood by your side, welcoming you into the fray all those years ago. Never did he shame your lack of knowledge about the way things in the upper crust of Roman society worked. He was a good man at his core.

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Chaos had taken over Caracalla’s chamber as the day’s newest adventures in the Colosseum grew nearer. Dressed in an opulent stola, you chanced a glance at the fiery-haired many who sat behind you. Nearly done being dressed, only a crown of laurels remained. Seated in a low chair, he fiddled with the jewelry that adorned his hands and neck. Taking advantage of his distraction, and unable to ignore the desire to be near him, you made your way across the cavernous room to Caracalla. Stepping between his legs you reached back to grab the golden crown in your delicate fingers. With great care you placed it upon his head, fixing his disheveled hair as it poked out in awkward angles. From his spot, he watched in awe, his eyes never leaving your face.

“There, now you are ready to face your adoring public. May the gods make their will known in the arena this day.” You stooped to place a gentle kiss on the middle of his forehead. The gesture was one of trust and friendship.

Overwhelmed, you stood upright and took a step back from the emperor. You’d only just begun to turn around when a gentle hand clasped around your wrist forcing you to turn back to Caracalla. His voice was barely more than a whisper as he spoke to you, “Promise you’ll stay with me.”

“Always.” Caracalla brought your knuckles to his lips before letting you go.

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The journey to the arena was relatively short. Inside the emperor’s box, the brothers took their seats and were followed in by General Acacius and Lucilla. You watched from the back, observing the pair with keen eyes and a skeptical mind. The two seemed stiff and out of place, their eyes shifting from side to side as though they were about to crawl out of their skin. Pressured to speak, the general stood before the cheering crowd, commanding attention, but something about his words left you feeling ill. The look on his face as he turned around to join his wife was enough to confirm your suspicion. Something was wrong. Long past were the days when Rome’s general was faithful without question to the throne. And now had come the time when enemies were around every corner, to be found most slyly in the people who were meant to be trusted confidantes.

Commotion filled the arena pulling your attention away from Acacius and Lucilla and permitting you to step into the space between Geta and Caracalla. Chancing a glance at each of them you found Geta’s eyes were already on you, following your approach like a hawk. He raked over your frame, admiring the way the fabric draped over your body, and followed the swell of your chest. Not wanting to risk unwanted attention, you met his gaze for only a moment before turning to engage with Caracalla. A guileless smile turned the corners of his lips as his high-pitched laughter bounced through the air.

Trusting in the power of the gods, you watched with rapt attention as the foreign gladiator made a fool of the man from the emperor’s stables. Spared by the gods the man tempted fate before ending the fight altogether. Blood pooled beneath the decapitated fighter, painting the sandy ground in a sickening shade of red.

With the fight over, everyone of note retreated inside where the festivities were sure to continue late into the night. Yet, as you turned to make your way across the room, you noticed the look on Lucilla’s face. She held firmly to the bundle of lavender propped beneath her nose, her face was pale as though the life had been drained from her veins. Her eyes darted from Acacius to the young gladiator that stalked across the sand toward the fighter’s cells. There was a hint of something more there that you failed to place, but it did little to settle your growing suspicions.

Unable to address it at this moment, you trained your attention back on Caracalla who was chatting away about the fight, retelling the tale to those around him as though they hadn’t just watched it unfold. Stepping into his side, you laced your arm through his, holding tightly to his bicep, and tucked yourself into him. Geta, caught in a conversation with some verbose senator, tracked your movement toward his brother noticing every detail of you. His concern grew stronger as he watched you press your nose into the voluminous material of his brother’s elaborate toga hiding your countenance before pressing onto your toes to whisper in the emperor’s ear. A chaste peck was placed upon his brother’s cheek, earning you a wondrous grin.

Caracalla nodded, before letting you fall away from his side. The young man turned back to the small group that had formed around him and continued his elaborate story. With his blessing, you were free to pick your way through the crowd toward the plethora of wine and food that covered the table at the center of the room. Admiring the choices, you meandered your way from one end to the other sampling every dried fruit and cured meat before settling on a deliciously dark cup of wine. The steady throb in your cheek had you wish for something a bit more potent than alcohol, but alas, that would have to wait.

Refilling your nearly empty glass, you wandered the space, keeping a keen eye on both Caracalla and Geta. Each remained wrapped in conversation but their demeanors couldn’t be more dissimilar. Where Caracalla continued his lively storytelling, basking in the unwavering attention of his growing entourage, Geta’s face grew increasingly pinched at whatever meaningless drivel the senators believed required the prompt and full attention of him alone. You knew this has become commonplace, the passing over of Caracalla when discussing politics, and yet it rolled your stomach to see it happening so blatantly in public.

Finished with your lap, you swooped by the table to collect another glass of wine. On a mission to relieve Geta of his trap, you made your way to him, confidently plucking your way through the sea of people. You could feel the burn of jealous and questioning eyes on you. Your presence amongst these circles had become expected long ago and yet it never prevented people from casting judgment upon you. The tender mark upon your face only added fuel to the fire, giving the people exactly what they wanted… more about which to gossip about.

You closed the last few paces between you and Geta, reveling in the horrified look on the senator's face as you reached for the emperor’s shoulder. Gently, you placed a hand on him, drawing his attention away. “Here, some wine, to fortify your political endeavors.” Ignoring the hanging jaws and scoffs of the other men you carefully handed Geta the drink soaking in the entrancing way his eyes seemed to glow in the light. Their depth fell away to a brighter almost amber hue. But it was not just his gaze that held the knot in your chest, but the emotion that sat heavy in every fiber of his being.

Desire darkened across his face as he memorized the stillness of your features. Geta’s ringed fingers brushed your own bare skin, taking far longer than was necessary to receive the beverage from you. A distinct cough of indignation erupted from one of the older politicians forcing you to step back. Geta gave a slight nod, silently passing you permission to fall away knowing that he judged you not for wanting to escape the calloused opinions of those he was forced to surround himself with. The swish of your stola accented your departure. Behind you, the conversation returned in hushed tones, but the swell of the crowd did little to mask the biting words.

“That woman has grown far to forward with you and your brother, Geta. It appears it may be time to let her go, and replace her with someone more docile… refined. Perhaps now the pair of you should consider proper marriages, for the future of Rome.” The old man’s voice croaked grating into the momentary silence that fell after he finished speaking.

With your back turned to Geta you were unable to see the vicious sneer that came over the emperor’s face. Far enough away now, his words were lost to the crowd in which you disappeared. Only the need to maintain peace for your sake kept him from exploding. A deep breath filled his chest and shook through his nose as he tested the surety of his voice. “That woman belongs to my brother, and to m- to the household. Her actions are neither unexpected nor uncouth. And may I suggest senator, that you keep her out of your filthy whoring mouth or you may find your own midnight wanderings publicized for all to discuss. Am I clear?”

“Yes.” The older man murmured. His eyes dropped to the ground, uncertain of how to proceed.

“Now, if you’ll excuse me. I believe there are others far more worthy of my time to which I must attend.” Geta bowed out hastily, the venom in his voice dripped from every word keeping the other tongues silent.

Heavy footfalls pounded across the stone toward you, following your path away from the crowd in search of temporary solitude. Nearing a quiet alcove, you pressed yourself into the chill of the marble. Exhausted and aching, you felt your legs tremble, forcing you to slump down upon the unforgiving bench that lined the wall. The distant rumbling of the crowd was accented by the approach of another. Unsure of what to say, you let your eyes fall shut, keeping out the world around you, and perhaps buying you some time to come to grips with your thoughts.

The steps slowed, and yet you didn’t bother to open your eyes. “You mustn’t listen to them. They are feeble-minded old men. They matter matter not.” Geta spoke, hoping you would look at him.

Concern masked as anger flashed hot over your nerves, forcing you to stand and crowd into his space. Your open palms found his chest, shoving his sturdy frame away as you worked to control your volume. “You cannot say those things, Geta. You need them, whether you care for that reality or not. Without the Senate, Rome is nothing. In a heartbeat, they have you and your brother deposed. There are snakes in the water, Geta. Do not let your loose tongue be what brings about your ruin!”

Geta’s hand came to hold your wrists in place against him, the feeling of your touch the only thing that kept him from giving into the dizzying spin of his head. “What are you saying?! You of all people-”

“I’m saying take great care with what you say and to whom you say. There are those within your inner circle who wish to see you and Caracalla fall, no matter how that happens. The ends would justify the means in their eyes. The senators are only part of your problem.” You choked on the end of your confession, the reality heavy in your chest.

Geta’s hold on you changed. One hand skimmed along your curves finding home at the nip of your waist while the other cupped your injured cheek, tipping your face to his. “Do not be afraid. Tell me what you know.”

“I’m not afraid, not for myself. But for you and Caracalla… that is an entirely different story. And as far as what I know... it is nothing, it has to be nothing. Just my anxious mind getting the better of me.”

“Do not keep this inside, it will only eat away at you.” He spoke deeply, understanding the truth behind what he’d spoken despite often leaving this advice alone for himself.

“You expect more of me than of yourself when it comes to honesty.” Lingering frustration gave way to weariness. Struggling to keep yourself together, you rested your brow against Geta's chest. The silk of his clothing soothed your nerves. Held carefully in his arms, you could feel the feather-light touch of his lips as he kissed your temple.

“Nothing gets past you.” A soft smile wrapped around his words. Pressed together in the relative seclusion you'd managed to find, Geta inhaled the warm scent of wine and perfume that swirled around you. The beautiful bouquet went to his head, adding to the hazy buzz he cultivated through a touch too much to drink.

"Pay no mind to the anxious ramblings of a palace whore. I know little of what I fear. I should never have voiced my concern, it is not my place. Forgive me." You kept your face buried in the elaborate folds of his toga, letting the sturdiness of him continue to calm your body.

"Do not call yourself that." Geta leaned back, forcing you to look at him. Tenderly, he held your face, taking extra care to avoid your wound. "You are not. You never have been."

"No, I am. They are right. A real marriage. A wife… children… a son to bear the family name. That is what you both need. What you deserve."

"You are avoiding your worry. Deflecting. You may speak freely with me, you know this. There are no others here to judge or condemn. You have my ear and my heart." Geta captured your mouth with his, earning him the ghost of a whimper. Breaking away before things could escalate, he waited patiently for your response. "Now tell me what you fear so that I may carry that burden with you."

"I will not speak of it here. Not where prying eyes and ears shift all around. I know the palace is no better when it comes to the fiery spread of rumors and lies, but this place… it thrives on blood. It screams for it. It makes me ill. Not here. Meet me tonight, at the baths. I promise… I will share everything."

You reached for Geta, needing to feel him close once more. Slotting your lips together, you felt the fine strands of his hair between your fingers.

"Tonight." He mumbled against your lips.

Part III

#emperor geta smut #emperor geta x reader #geta x reader #gladiator ii #gladiator 2 #gladiator fanfiction #emperor geta x you #emperor geta #geta smut #gladiator II

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witchywithwhiskey · 8 months ago

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trucker prince charming (part 2)

pairing: trucker!jake jensen x sex worker!female reader

summary: you take your favorite trucker up on his offer to meet him at his rig after you finish your shift at the strip club where you work—and it's better than you imagined, which means you're in trouble.

warnings: 18+ content (minors do not interact!!!), smut, piv sex, unprotected sex, creampie, condom discussion, dry humping, marking/hickeys, finger sucking, begging, teasing, dirty talk, praise kink, pet names (kitten), sex worker insecurities, referenced glory hole sex, referenced abuse of power, love confession, a lot of emotions—let me know if i missed something!

word count: 9.5k

a/n: god i hope this chapter works 🫣 i struggled with it a bit, to make reader's reluctance consistent and believable. but i also wanted to to be like super romantic, so yeah, i hope it is!!! ahhh ok please enjoy more trucker jake—i hope y'all love him as much as i do!!!

trucker king masterlist

Excitement and fear roiled in the pit of your stomach, making you feel slightly queasy as you shoved your cash tips from the night into your purse in the back room of Diesel Dolls. In fact, you were trembling so hard, if you’d been wearing a pair of the sky high heels you wore when you worked the stage, you’d be worried about breaking an ankle. But your thoughts were elsewhere, on the trucker who was absolutely not your prince charming.

As you gathered your things, all you could think about was your favorite trucker who visited you often in the glory holes at the back of the club. Jake Jensen was everything you shouldn’t want. He was one of Diesel Dolls’ most reliable regulars, always stopping by the glory holes when he passed by on the interstate—though, ever since he’d started coming to you, you were the only one he’d let take care of him.

Still, his status as a regular made any kind of outside relationship with him strictly off-limits according to the owner of the club, Mr. Ransom Drysdale.

Mr. Drysdale didn’t take kindly to girls who formed relationships with his trucker clientele outside the club, he said it was too much of a risk of the girl stealing his business. And if Mr. Drysdale suspected anything, he was known for his harsh, humiliating punishments. He wouldn’t fire you if he found out you were planning to meet up with Jake after your shift, but he’d find a creative way for you to regret it.

Even with that thought in your mind, you couldn’t get Jake’s parting words out of your head. You kept hearing his friendly, sweet and deliciously deep voice saying to you, “I’m sleeping in my rig tonight…in case you wanna stop by.”

Those had been the final words he’d spoken to you when he’d come to your spot at the glory holes earlier that evening, but he’d left before you could respond to the obvious offer. A part of you was grateful he hadn’t demanded an answer from you in the moment, since it meant you could think it over without any pressure from him. But it also meant that, hours later, you were still uncertain about what you were going to do.

You were still debating it with yourself when you threw on a long jacket to cover the skimpy tank top and shorts you wore when working the glory holes, and walked out the back door of Diesel Dolls. There, you stopped short.

In your preoccupation with Jake, you’d forgotten what to expect when leaving the club. A few of the other girls lingered outside smoking cigarettes and chatting with the security guards tasked with walking you and your coworkers to your cars. There was a bite of chill in the air that had you wrapping your coat tighter around your body while you wavered in indecision, the audience making you more anxious about what to do.

“Need a cig, girl?” asked Crystal, one of the girls that had been working at Diesel Dolls even longer than you. She held out her pack to you, her own cigarette pinched between two fingers, the smoke trailing up toward the late night sky. Her eyes were sharp as they watched you, even if her open expression seemed to be nice.

You gave Crystal a tight smile and shook your head, muttering, “No thanks.” You could feel Crystal’s eyes on you as you took two steps into the parking lot, which made the fear in your chest burn brighter than the excitement Jake’s offer had inspired.

Crystal liked to make herself out to be the motherly one of the bunch who worked at the club, the kind who would give advice to the new girls and commiserate with those who’d been working at Diesel Dolls too long. But you’d noticed the way things that seemed to only be said to Crystal had a way of getting back to Mr. Drysdale. That was enough to have your shoulders bunching up around your ears.

Crystal was the last person you wanted to see you walking to Jake’s truck. But you didn’t want to give up on him yet. You’d known Jake for a couple months while he’d been frequenting your glory hole, and you were so desperately curious about him, that you didn’t want to pass up on the opportunity. So you pulled out your phone and pretended to be texting someone while you hoped the group outside the back door dispersed.

Thankfully, they all seemed to finish up soon enough and Crystal went back inside while the security guards split up to walk the other girls to their cars. You waved them off when they offered to walk you as well, claiming you had a ride coming and waited until they rounded the side of the building to where most of the girls parked their cars.

For a brief moment, you were alone with nothing but the clear night air and your thoughts. You knew it was a bad idea to go to Jake, but the pull you felt to him was too strong. It was bound to get you into some kind of trouble, whether with Mr. Drysdale or something you couldn’t even anticipate. You typically prided yourself in having a great deal of sense, but everything about your favorite trucker made you want to act like you didn’t have any.

Before you’d even fully made up your mind, your feet began to carry you in the direction you knew you’d be able to find him. For once, your heart seemed to be making the decisions and though your brain was still listing all the ways in which things could go wrong—Jake could be horrid in person, or he could fuck you and go around the club bragging about it—they didn’t seem as important as finally finding out what it would feel like to fall into your favorite trucker’s arms.

Diesel Dolls had a small parking lot in front and to one side of the building, but on the other side, there was a much bigger parking lot that the strip club shared with Everett’s Roadhouse. It was big enough to accommodate all the truckers and their rigs who frequented both the club and the bar. It also had special permissions that allowed the truckers to sleep there over night.

It was to this parking lot that your feet carried you.

You breathed a sigh of relief when you were swallowed up by the shadows of the massive trucks in the parking lot, your soft exhale masking the sound of the back door of Diesel Dolls closing. You didn’t hear it, though, because you were too focused on looking for the truck Jake had described to you.

Turning a corner around a big white rig, you spotted the truck that could only belong to your favorite trucker. And standing in front of it, leaning against the grill at the front, was a man. Your heart leapt in your chest as you realized it could only be him. Your favorite trucker. Your Jakey.

Your breath caught in your throat and your feet stumbled to a stop. He hadn’t noticed you yet, and you took the moment to look him over, greedily raking your eyes down his body while he stared at something on his phone.

Jake looked tall, even from the little bit of distance between you, with broad shoulders that filled out the bright green t-shirt he wore, which had some kind of graphic printed on the front. His jeans were a basic blue denim that fit him a little snugly, and he wore work boots that were kicking idly at the pavement of the parking lot, like he was struggling to be patient.

But what caught your attention the most about Jake was his face. You were a little surprised to discover that Jake wore glasses, but that was maybe because you’d never seen another trucker who wore them. You stared at his side profile for a long time, appreciating his strong jaw accented by the goatee framing his soft mouth. His dark hair lightened at the spiky tips, and for some reason, you found yourself craving to touch it, to run your hands through it.

All at once, you realized you’d been right about Jake—he was cute. And not just cute, he was fucking hot. You’d never seen a man who could pull off both, but your favorite trucker managed it.

Your heart thudded in your chest and if you’d been thinking with anything but your heart, you’d have been worried about your reaction to the man who you knew you couldn’t be with. But you were only admiring your favorite trucker and thinking about how cute he looked waiting for you.

You didn’t realize you’d been slowly drifting closer to Jake until he straightened suddenly, and looked straight at you. Your breath froze in your lungs when you met his gaze, startling at the bright blue of his eyes, even shadowed as they were in the dim light of the parking lot. Your feet came to an abrupt stop and you waited anxiously while Jake took his own inspection of you, hoping desperately that he wouldn’t find you lacking.

But there was no long perusal of your body, only brief moment when eh let his gaze drop to your lips before he caught your eye again. A charmingly friendly grin spread across his handsome face, excitement rolling off him in waves that made you feel giddy.

“Kitten?” he asked, a little hesitantly. Almost like he was a little shy.

If you hadn’t already been certain the man was Jake, his voice would’ve convinced you. It was warm and pleasantly deep, sending a delicious shiver of recognition down your spine, heat blooming in the depth of your core. A small, tentative smile curved the edges of your mouth as you walked closer to your favorite trucker, noticing that he stayed near his truck and let you come to him.

“Jake,” you said, his name gusting past your lips in an awed exhale. He looked even more handsome up close, and your eyes couldn’t stop taking in the lines and curves of his face. You didn’t think you’d ever get enough of simply looking at him.

“You came.” He stated the obvious, his voice low and gruff with an emotion that tugged at something deep inside your chest. You were drawn in closer to your favorite trucker by some invisible tether that seemed to connect the two of you. So wrapped up in the moment, you didn’t even question why you felt so deeply for a man you were only truly meeting for the first time.

You came to a stop right in front of Jake, close enough you had to tilt your head back to hold his gaze—close enough you could feel the heat of him in the chilly night air. You wanted to press even closer and wrap yourself around the big, broad man, but you held yourself back, suddenly unsure how to act without a wall of plywood between you.

“You’re cuter than I imagined,” you said, the words falling from your lips before you could stop them, amazement making your voice breathy.

But as soon as the words registered in your mind, you winced and pressed a hand over your mouth. You were about to apologize for the backhanded compliment when Jake laughed huskily, a little bit of pink tinging his cheeks, which only made him look even cuter.

“Ya think I’m cute, kitten?” he asked, his fingers reaching out and brushing against yours, electricity zinging through your body at just that brief touch.

Your breath hitched as your body went haywire, desire flooding through your veins and making you sway into your favorite trucker. Jake seemed to notice your reaction because a grin spread across his face and he tangled his fingers with yours while he kept talking.

“Not hot, or sexy—or studly?” His voice went much deeper on that last word to emphasize it, and you couldn’t help the startled giggle that fled from your lips. You’d suspected Jake was funny, and you were delighted to discover you were right about that too.

Jake used the moment when your guard was down to pull you into his arms, where you landed against his chest with a small huff of surprise. Immediately, your laughter died in your throat and you stared up into Jake’s eyes while he watched you with a pleased smile curling the edges of his mouth.

The thought came to you suddenly: You could fall in love with Jake Jensen. In fact, you knew, somehow, that it would be as easy as breathing to fall in love with Jake. A small part of you even thought you already were falling in love with your favorite trucker.

But as soon as you had those thoughts, you pushed them away, the fear you’d felt earlier rearing its ugly head. You couldn’t fall in love with Jake, not when you knew you’d never be able to be with him in the way you wanted. Developing feelings for him would only lead to getting hurt and you didn’t think you’d survive the kind of hurt falling love with Jake would lead to. So you forced yourself not to think about it.

Instead, you let yourself act on instinct. You reached up and traced your fingertips gently down the side of Jake’s face, your touch so light you weren’t sure if he could even feel it. But when you got to the plump curve of his lower lip, he sucked in a sharp breath, his eyes darkening as he stared down at you so intensely, your hand fell away to fist in the soft cotton of his t-shirt.

“I don’t meet a lot of cute guys in my line of work,” you whispered, the words part explanation, part distraction from the way Jake was looking at you like he planned to grab you and kiss you and never let you go. “It’s…” you trailed off, not knowing where you were going with that thought.

No, that was a lie, you knew exactly where you were going, you just got scared to continue it. But Jake was patient, and he waited, his gaze expectant, and you discovered you didn’t want to let him down—either with an attempt to change the subject or with a lie.

“It’s amazing,” you said, so softly, you weren’t sure he’d be able to hear. “You’re amazing, Jakey.” Your eyes fell to his lips, looking so soft and inviting. Your favorite trucker’s mouth was so tempting, and you knew you’d never be the same once he kissed you, which scared you more than a little, your heart thudding almost painfully in your chest.

Thankfully, Jake was brave enough for the both of you.

His arms wound around your waist, knees bending to wrap you up in his hold and haul you up close to his chest, so you were left standing on tiptoes and staring up into his beautiful blue eyes. He lowered his face until your mouths were so close, you could taste the sharp mint of his breath on your tongue, but he didn’t close the distance.

Your heart was racing with excitement and a little bit of fear, and you could feel Jake’s arousal through your clothes, but the tension of the moment was delicious and you didn’t mind if Jake wanted to take things a little slow. At least, for the moment.

“Fuck, kitten,” he rumbled, collapsing back against the grill of his truck while he stared at you with amazement in his blue eyes. “I’ll take cute as a compliment if you’re the one saying it,” he said, his voice pitched low and earnest. Your fingers twisted in his shirt, clinging to him as you watched the edges of his mouth curve into a grin. “Hell, you can call me a cute little pup and I’ll roll over so you can pet my belly.”

Jake’s arms squeezed you tightly, holding you pinned to his chest, and a distant part of you was surprised by the fact that you didn’t feel trapped by him. You felt impossibly giddy with happiness and excitement, warmth curling pleasantly through your body as you pressed tighter against him, feeling his hard cock digging into your stomach. He was so eager for you, and it was so hot because you wanted him just as badly, but you couldn’t help teasing him a little.

“I think puppy wants something more than belly rubs,” you murmured, a smirk curling your lips. You lifted one of your feet to rest on the grill of Jake’s truck, opening your legs to grind your core against his bulge, wringing a groan out of him, his hands fisting in the jacket at your back.

“Mm, you feel so fucking good,” he rumbled in a husky voice, then paused, pulling back enough to catch your eye. He wore an adorably confused expression. “Hang on, are you calling me or my dick ‘puppy’?”

Jake’s question startled you so much, laughter burst free from your mouth unbidden; you had to tip your head back and close your eyes to let it loose. It was the hardest you’d laughed in a very long time, your body shaking in Jake’s arms and tears springing to the corners of your eyes.

You could feel Jake chuckling right along with you, but when you finally sobered, he’d quieted and was simply looking at you, an emotion in his eyes that was so deep and terrifying it nearly stole all the breath from your lungs.

“You have the best laugh,” Jake muttered seconds before his mouth descended on yours, capturing your lips in a kiss.

Your first kiss with Jake was everything you’d dreamed it would be, your body lighting up and your mind going blank in a combination of delight and arousal. His mouth was warm and soft on yours, the bristles of his goatee tickling your cheeks as your mouths slid together. A giggle rose in your throat and your mouth curved in a smile as giddiness flooded through you.

Then Jake shifted his arms, one hand coming up to cradle your head while the other remained banded around your lower back, holding you exactly where he wanted you. He deepened the kiss, his tongue slipping past your lips and coaxing a moan from you as he explored the depths of your mouth. Jake’s kiss was heady and all-consuming and you never wanted it to end—you wanted to kiss him forever and ever and ever.

By the time Jake pulled away, your lungs were burning for air and you were left panting, dragging in as much oxygen as you could. He seemed to be in much the same predicament, his chest expanding where you were draped against it, his heart beating wildly beneath where your fingers were clinging to his t-shirt.

“So, you got a bed in that big rig of yours,” you managed to ask, in between panting breaths. “Or are you planning to fuck me right here against your truck?” A cheeky grin curved your lips and you ground your core against Jake again for good measure, making his eyes go dazed and dark. His hands grabbed your ass and held you tight against his bulge while he seemed to freeze.

For a long moment, Jake just stared at you like his brain had short-circuited, and your grin widened at the realization that you’d somehow managed to render your favorite trucker speechless. Then, all of a sudden, he seemed to come back online and he shook his head as if to clear his thoughts.

Tangling his fingers with yours, Jake led you around to the driver’s side of his rig and opened the door, helping you up into the cab. You took a quick, cursory look around the inside of Jake’s truck as you moved directly into the backseat, where there was a soft cot covered in a haphazard pile of blankets. The bed was messy and unkempt in a way that made you smile because it just seemed so much like Jake.

Looking around, you noted that the truck cab was warm, and a little cluttered, but cozy in its own way. You’d never actually seen the inside of a long-haul truck despite servicing countless drivers at Diesel Dolls, but everything looked so high tech, you would’ve thought you were in the cockpit of a spaceship. All the dials and controls on the dashboard gave off a soft blue light, including some of the panels in the backseat around Jake’s bed.

When you looked closer, there appeared to be a gaming system and TV rigged up in the back, and you smiled again, imagining your favorite trucker spending his spare time gaming by himself. You couldn’t help the way your mind wandered, wondering if Jake might be interested in letting you keep his cock warm while he played his games…

You were distracted from that thought by Jake hauling himself into the driver’s seat and shutting the door behind him. He had a determined look on his face while he locked the truck’s doors, checking to make sure the space was secure before he turned to you in the backseat. The corner of your mouth kicked up in a sultry grin and you leaned back on your hands, pushing your tits out as your jacket parted, revealing the tiny crop top and shorts you wore beneath it.

In the privacy of his truck, Jake let his eyes wander down your body, lingering on the way your nipples pushed through the thin cotton of your shirt. They tightened further under the intensity of his gaze, and your lips parted in a gasping breath as heat blazed between your thighs.

But Jake’s eyes were already moving on, his gaze roving over the curves of your waist and hips and down to the plush softness of your thighs. You could almost feel his gaze like a lingering touch as he looked at your body properly for the first time. If you’d had a chance to feel at all insecure about whether he’d like your curves, the way Jake’s pupils blew wide with lust would’ve quelled it.

Jake spent long moments simply looking at you and, after you’d taken your own moment to get your fill of him before he’d noticed you in the parking lot, you tried to be patient. But the way your body was responding to just Jake’s eyes on you made you squirm on the bed, your thighs falling open of their own accord in a wordless offering for your favorite trucker. Finally, your impatience won out.

“Now that you’ve got me in your truck,” you murmured in a husky purr, smiling seductively when Jake’s eyes met yours again. “What do you plan on doing with me?” You shifted your shoulders, letting your jacket slip down your arms in a way that you hoped was enticing enough to make him want to rip it off you entirely.

Jake’s eyes darted to your bare shoulders then back to your face before he moved from his seat, prowling toward you in a way that looked more predatory than you would’ve expected from your sweet and friendly trucker. The intensity of his gaze on you sent a thrill through your body that only heightened as he eased closer, his hands sliding beneath your jacket to grab your hips roughly.

Holding your gaze captive with his own, Jake eased you down onto your back until you were laying in his bed, his big body covering yours. Your lungs were struggling for air, little panting breaths slipping past your lips as you followed Jake’s lead, a part of you surprised by how easy it was to give in to your favorite trucker’s whims. But you trusted him—you trusted him in a way that was probably unwise, and it occurred to you yet again that being with your trucker could lead to serious trouble for you.

But then you were laying down in Jake’s soft bed, his broad shoulders and beautiful blue eyes blocking out the rest of the world, and your worries miraculously faded—helped by the fact that Jake decided to finally answer your question.

“I’ve thought about this so many times, kitten,” Jake rasped, his tone raw with emotion that had your heart racing in your chest.

There was a vulnerability in Jake’s words, and you couldn’t help but reach for him, cupping his handsome face in your hands. A soft smile played at the edges of your mouth, but it deepened when Jake leaned into your touch, his eyes fluttering closed while he nuzzled into your palms. It took a moment for him to gather his thoughts enough to continue.

“I’ve thought about getting you in my bed so many times, I can barely believe this is real,” Jake mumbled, the words sounding like they were wrenched straight from his heart. You could feel your own heart thump in response, a little bit of fear trickling through your body that you decided to ignore. “I plan to do everything with you kitten,” Jake murmured, opening his eyes and pinning you with his fervent gaze. “But most of all, I plan to keep you.”

Your breath froze in your lungs at Jake’s pronouncement, and fear flooded your heart. It was on the tip of your tongue to tell Jake it was impossible—he couldn’t keep you, not while you still worked at Diesel Dolls. Not while Mr. Drysdale still owned you.

Your entire livelihood was dependent on Mr. Drysdale and Diesel Dolls. He was the only one who’d hired you when you’d come to town. And, despite all his faults, Mr. Drysdale paid well—well enough that you could support yourself. If Jake jeopardized your job at Diesel Dolls, you’d have to become dependent on him to take care of you, and you didn’t know yet if he was the kind of man who’d do that, though the part of you that was falling love with him told you that he would.

It surprised you—and scared you—how much you wanted to give your heart and soul and everything to Jake. You yearned for him in a way you never had for any other man. You felt almost desperate for your favorite trucker to be true to his word, to keep you and take care of you and make you his in every possible way.

But you had too much sense to let yourself fall into Jake’s arms completely just yet. So you reminded yourself that your life was not a fairytale, and Jake wasn’t your prince charming. No matter how much you might want him to be. Jake was a trucker, and if you knew one thing about truckers, it was that eventually, they always leave. It wasn’t worth risking your entire life for the chance of a happily ever after with him, even if your heart yearned for it.

So, while you wanted to believe Jake meant what he said—that he was going to keep you—you simply couldn’t allow yourself to. But that didn’t mean you couldn’t enjoy the time you had with him, no matter how brief it would have to be. Pulling him down for a soft kiss, you murmured against his lips.

“Do anything you want with me,” you whispered, eagerly giving your body to your favorite trucker, even as you held back from giving him your heart. “Wanna feel your cock inside me so bad, please, Jake,” you begged, muffling a whimper as you kissed his jaw.

If Jake knew you were holding part of yourself back, he didn’t show it. Instead, he captured your lips in a fierce kiss, his hands roaming all over your body, ripping off your jacket and tossing it into the front seat. As his tongue plunged into your mouth, he tugged off the rest of your clothes, leaving you bare beneath him before he pulled away to yank his shirt off over his head.

The movement knocked Jake’s glasses askew and you giggled at the sight of him, leaning up to nip at his jaw to stop yourself from calling him cute again. He huffed an impatient laugh and took his glasses off, tucking them into a compartment above your head.

Even in the dim light of the backseat, Jake was still so attractive it took your breath away just looking at him. You couldn’t help yourself from pulling his face close to yours so you could kiss him sweetly.

“So handsome, Jakey,” you murmured against his mouth, wanting so badly to tell him how much you liked him. You settled for wrapping your legs around his hips and grinding your bare core against the bulge in his jeans. “Look so fucking hot with glasses,” you said, pausing only to kiss him again before continuing, “and just as hot without them.”

Jake chuckled huskily, his hips pressing into yours to grind his bulge against your cunt, making you gasp while he kissed along your jaw. “What happened to calling me cute?” he murmured teasingly, nipping at the lobe of your ear and laughing again when you squirmed beneath him.

“You’re still cute,” you admitted on a gasp, humping against Jake from under his large body, trying desperately to get the friction you needed against your sopping wet pussy. “And handsome and hot and—god you’re everything, Jakey,” you cried, your desire driving you to grind harder against him, your body writhing like a cat in heat. “I need you, please!”

“Alright, alright,” Jake rumbled placatingly, easing your hips back down against the bed and untangling your legs from around his hips so he could undo his jeans.

The loss of contact made you whine impatiently, and if need wasn’t blazing through you so hotly you would’ve wondered about what Jake had reduced you to—a needy creature so desperate for him that you were whining—but you didn’t care, you just wanted him. Jake kissed your cheek to mollify you while he fumbled with his jeans.

“Fuck, kitten,” he rasped, pressing his forehead to yours and taking a deep breath to settle his shaking hands. “I’ve never met a woman who wanted me so bad.”

An anger you didn’t want to analyze too closely surged through your body at Jake’s statement. Wrapping your arms around his shoulders, you buried your hands in his hair and pressed hot kisses to his cheeks, his temple, his forehead, anywhere you could reach.

“All the women you’ve met are fucking idiots then,” you snarled, tugging Jake’s head to the side so you could kiss down the strong column of his neck. It wasn’t like you to say such things about other women, but you couldn’t even fathom not wanting Jake with a desperation that clawed through your body. Before you could stop yourself, your lips latched onto Jake’s neck and you began sucking on his skin, intent on leaving your mark on your favorite trucker.

“Fuck, jesus fuck,” Jake groaned, shuddering at the feeling of you sucking on his neck. His hands were shaking again, but he managed to push his jeans and boxers down, kicking them off as fast as he could manage in the tight confines of the backseat.

Then, finally, his cock was free, and you reached for it eagerly with a familiarity that came from sucking him off so many times in the glory holes at Diesel Dolls. You stroked him with an eagerness like greeting an old friend, reacquainting yourself with the part of Jake’s body you knew best. His cock was just as perfect as always and all the desires you’d felt earlier that night came rushing back.

“Wanna worship your cock with my mouth, Jakey,” you murmured in his ear, your fingers stroking his stiff length slowly, teasingly, pausing briefly to smack your pussy with the tip and making both of your groan in pleasure. “You have the most perfect cock I’ve ever seen,” you confessed in a breathy whisper, your lips pressing kisses to Jake’s neck just beneath his ear. “I wanna kiss you and lick you and suck you and make out with your balls, Jakey, god, I could spend hours just playing with your cock.”

Jake’s full body shuddered again, and you smirked against his neck, breathing in the fresh, clean scent of your favorite trucker and feeling yourself get wetter for him. But then Jake was pushing up and tilting his face to yours, capturing your lips in a searing kiss that stole your breath and stilled your hand.

“You have the hottest mouth, kitten,” Jake murmured when he pulled away, his hand cupping your cheek and dragging his thumb over your lower lip.

You sucked his finger into your mouth and bobbed your head a little while staring up at him, hoping he’d see how eager you were and let you move down his body and worship him the way he deserved.

Instead, Jake’s other hand knocked yours away from his cock, fisting himself while you whined and pouted around his thumb. He chuckled, removing his thumb from your mouth so he could kiss you again.

“You can suck me off another time,” he promised, rubbing the tip of his dick between your soaked folds and making you shiver beneath him. “I gotta feel your cunt or I’m gonna go fucking crazy.” His voice lowered to a deep rumble, his words only turning you on more, as impossible as that seemed. “Gotta know if your pussy feels as good as I’ve always imagined.”

“Jakey, please,” you cried breathlessly, digging your knees into his sides and tilting your hips up to try to take his cock into your weeping hole. “Need you, need you,” you mumbled, humping against the tip of Jake’s dick, until a thought crashed into your mind.

You’d never fucked anyone—at Diesel Dolls or in your personal life—without a condom. And you’d never forgotten to ask your partner to put one on. But you’d been about to take Jake’s bare cock into your unprotected cunt without even a second thought.

It was chilling to realize just how much Jake affected you. You froze, your body tensing and pulling away as much as you could when you were laying beneath Jake in the small cot in the backseat of his truck.

Immediately, Jake took notice of your retreat, and he paused above you.

“What’s wrong?” he asked worriedly, pushing up on his arms so he could see your face fully. There was so much concern in his expression that you had to look away, reflexively shying away from the emotion in his gaze. You stared at his shoulder as you asked a question of your own.

“Do you want to use a condom?” you asked, forcing out the words in a rush, hoping Jake didn’t hear the insecurity in your voice. You knew some men thought you were ‘dirty’ because of your profession—you’d had more than enough of them say as much to your face—so you wanted to give Jake the option in case he later regretted not using protection with you.

The part of you that liked Jake (which was growing by the minute), wanted to believe he didn’t think that way about you. After all, he’d met you in the glory holes at the back of Diesel Dolls, and had made you feel safe and respected even when there was a plywood wall between you. But you knew too well from experience that even if a man knew what you did for work, even if he’d visited you at Diesel Dolls, he might still secretly think of you in a certain way.

So you held your breath, cautious hope in your heart as you waited for Jake’s response to your question.

He blinked once, then twice, his lips parted and his expression adorably confused while he processed your words. He even glanced down your bodies to see his bare cock resting against your pussy, and you weren’t certain what was going through his head, but you desperately wanted to know. When his gaze met yours again, he still looked concerned.

“Do you want to use a condom, kitten?” Jake asked, an anxious note in his tone. “Because I’ll find one if you do.” His eyes searched yours, but you were too stunned to respond because you’d realized something. Something life-altering.

Jake was the only man who ever asked you what you wanted.

Maybe there had been others, long ago, before Diesel Dolls, but if there were, you couldn’t remember them. Jake was the first man in a long time to ask you what you wanted to do, if you wanted to use a condom. An overwhelming and terrifying emotion surged through your body, tying your tongue and rendering you speechless.

Thankfully, Jake’s anxiousness at your silence prompted him to keep talking. He dropped his voice low, his expression going serious as he stared into your eyes.

“If you want to know what I want, I thought I made myself clear earlier,” he rumbled, working his hips in tiny little circles that had his hard length slipping between your drenched folds and grinding lightly against your clit. “I don’t want anything between us—I want all of you, including your hot cunt wrapped around my bare cock.”

A gasp fell from your lips as you tossed your head back, your eyes squeezing shut to quell the tears that were threatening to spill down your cheeks. “Jakey, yes, I want it—please,” you moaned in a broken, hoarse voice. Heat rose to your cheeks and, despite how turned on you were, you managed to feel a little embarrassed by how much emotion was in your voice when you said his name. Still, you couldn’t help the need you felt, and you pulled him close, feeling like nothing would be close enough.

Jake dug his arms into the bed beneath your back, crushing you to his chest as he shifted his hips, lining up his cock with your hole and beginning to sink in while he shushed you. “I’m right here, kitten, ‘m not going anywhere,” he murmured soothingly in your ear.

Your heart thudded in your chest and you were filled with an uneasy trepidation even as your legs spread wider around Jake’s broad body to take his cock deep into your cunt. You believed Jake. You believed he wasn’t going anywhere, and that scared you. But you didn’t have room in your mind to deal with that fear, not when he was sliding inside you, stretching your pussy to accomodate his thick length and pushing all your worries to the wayside.

“Feel so good, kitten,” Jake rumbled in your ear when he bottomed out inside you. His lips found your neck and kissed your delicate skin, making you whimper for him. “Feels like you were made for me, like you were made to be mine, all mine.” He rocked his hips gently, fucking you in firm, short thrusts that you felt in the depths of your soul.

Jake’s words and the way he was fucking you—like he was making love to you—was too much. You wanted so badly to be his, to let yourself fall in love with him, but you knew it couldn’t be and that knowledge made you so despondent, you felt like you could cry. But you didn’t want to ruin the moment, so instead you pushed on Jake’s shoulder, urging him to roll onto his back.

He did as you asked, rolling your bodies until he was laying flat on his back and you were straddling his hips, his cock still lodged deep inside you. The ceiling of the truck was high enough that you could sit up, so you did, pushing on Jake’s pecs to put some distance between you and your favorite trucker. You began to ride him with practiced movements, taking the opportunity to watch Jake.

Your favorite trucker looked deliciously devastated beneath you, his blue eyes glazing over as you rose up and sank down on his fat dick. His soft lips were parted, his chest heaving with heavy breaths as you worked your hips in tiny circles, clenching down on his length and fucking him like the pro that you were.

Jake stared at you like you were a goddess come to life and he’d be more than happy to bow at your feet, a dazed look of pleasure in his eyes as they roamed over your body. His gaze drifted down from your face, watching your tits bounce for him, then fixating on where your bodies joined. You could feel his gaze everywhere he looked, your body lighting up at his attention, which only made you ride him harder.

“Look so beautiful riding my cock, kitten,” Jake rumbled, seemingly having found his tongue. His hands fumbled over your body, gripping your hips and then your ass like he couldn’t decide which he wanted to touch more, squeezing you anywhere he could. “And you feel so fucking good—fuck, kitten, I want to keep you on my cock forever, just sitting pretty and keeping my cock warm while I’m driving, fuck, even when I’m sleeping.”

“Mm, Jake, don’t threaten me with a good time,” you murmured huskily, planting your hands on his chest and using the leverage to bounce your ass on his cock. You knew from past experience it made men lose their minds, and Jake was no different.

His jaw clenched and his hands pawed at your plush curves, his eyes rolling back in his head as he let out a groan that sounded like he was being tortured. “Fuck, fuck, kitten, you feel so fucking good,” Jake rambled, his tongue loosening the closer he got to coming. “Your cunt feels better than I ever could’ve imagined, ‘m gonna come so hard in your pretty little kitty.”

“Do it, Jake,” you urged, even though a part of you didn’t want your first time with Jake to be over so soon. But you knew it was better this way. You’d get him off and make some excuse to leave and you could go home and get yourself off while Jake’s come was still leaking from your pussy. “Fill me up, wanna feel you flood my little hole with your come.”

“Oh fuck,” Jake groaned, his hands gripping your hips hard enough to bruise as he held you and fucked up into you so furiously, you would’ve lost your balance if he hadn’t been holding on to you. “You’re perfect, you’re perfect, I—god, I love you, kitten.”

Every muscle in your body froze and you sucked in a sharp gasp at Jake’s confession, your mouth falling open in shock as you stared down at your favorite trucker.

Men had said those words to you before. They’d whispered them into plywood walls while you sucked their cocks and moaned other girls’ names. They’d murmured them into your ear while you gave them a lap dance, promising you jewelry and bigger tips if you broke the rules and let them fuck you. They’d confessed them to you in a bid to keep you in relationships that were toxic.

But you’d never heard them from a man who treated you with as much respect as Jake did. You’d never heard them from a man you wanted to hear them from. And god, you’d wanted Jake to say those words—maybe not so soon, but eventually—because you knew you were falling in love with him. And the fact that he’d said it meant he’d made it real.

And you were fucking terrified.

Even with how close Jake was to coming, he felt the change in you immediately. For a moment, he just looked at you, his chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath, his cock still hard inside you. As he watched you, you got the distinct impression he could see how scared you were of those three little words he’d said.

Trying to conceal your fear with anger, you contorted your face into a scowl and hissed, “Don’t say that to me.”

Jake sat up at once, one of his arms banding around your back to hold you in place while the other cupped your face, his thumb tilting your chin up so he could pin you in place with the intensity of his gaze.

“Do you think I didn’t mean it?” he asked, his voice gentle and gruff.

With his blue eyes piercing yours, it was difficult to lie, but you managed. “I’m sure you only meant it because I was riding your dick better than any other woman you’ve ever been with,” you spit out with far more bravado than you felt.

Jake’s expression shifted and he almost—almost—looked angry. His grip on your chin tightened, though not anywhere near enough to hurt. His hand was firm, unyielding in a way you’d never seen from Jake before.

“I’ve been in love with you since the first time you called me Jakey and told me I have a perfect dick,” he said, his tone daring you to challenge him. “I’ve loved you since before I saw this pretty face for the first time, kitten, and I know you feel something for me, too.”

Your heart was pounding in your chest, everything in your body telling you to flee, but Jake was holding you too tight so you huffed an exasperated sigh and rolled your eyes at your favorite trucker, pretending to be annoyed with him.

“How d’you know I don’t tell everyone they have a perfect cock?” you asked in a nonchalant tone, your eyes cutting away from Jake’s as you shrugged. “Maybe I tell all my johns that so they’ll tip me better.

Jake’s expression softened, a grin spreading across his face, like he was amused by your antics. “And do you tell all your johns that you fantasize about their cocks while you touch yourself?” Jake asked, his tone almost teasing. “Do you finger yourself while you think about your other johns—or is it just me, kitten?”

Your mind flashed back to earlier that evening when Jake had visited you at the glory holes in Diesel Dolls and you’d been so turned on by him, you’d gotten yourself off while you sucked his cock. You’d never done that before, and you knew it was entirely because you were so attracted to Jake, even when you’d only known his cock. The fact that he was real and handsome and inside you made it impossible to ignore how much you desired him, your body squirming as need crashed through you.

Though you’d barely moved, Jake could feel the way you squirmed in his arms and he chuckled. “Mm, I thought so,” he rumbled, responding like you’d answered his question, which you supposed you had, in a way. He pressed his face close to yours and held you so you were forced to look at him, because he was all you could see. “You don’t need to say the words back to me, kitten,” he murmured, his tone so sweet and gentle, it inexplicably made you want to cry. “But I know you feel it.”

God help you, but Jake was right. You were falling in love with the ridiculous trucker, and it seemed there was nothing you could do about it. Tears filled your eyes and threatened to spill down your cheeks. It was so tremendously frightening to open your heart to Jake, even when you weren’t thinking about everything in your life that would endeavor to keep you apart. Your throat felt tight with emotion, like you were choking on all the feelings you didn’t want to feel.

“Jakey,” was all you could manage to get past your lips. Thankfully, you didn’t need to say more because Jake covered your mouth with his own, kissing you so hard it stole the breath from your lungs. Your hips squirmed as heat flooded through you, the aching need of having Jake’s cock buried inside you becoming too difficult to ignore.

Instead of letting you ride him more, Jake flipped your bodies until you were pinned beneath his larger one, swallowing your gasp as he began fucking you like he had when you’d first begun, in slow, firm thrusts. When you wrenched your lips from his, gulping down much-needed air, he didn’t let you pull too far away.

“Love it when you call me Jakey, kitten,” he rumbled, in between peppering your face with kisses, his goatee tickling your skin, “’cause I know it means you love me.”

It felt like he was everywhere—his arms holding you tight to his chest, his lips pressing against every inch of your skin he could reach, his thick cock stretching your tight little cunt. He was overwhelming in the best way possible, and you let yourself give in to the moment, crying out, “Jakey, Jakey,” as he fucked you even after what he’d said about it meaning you loved him.

The tip of Jake’s cock hit a spot deep inside you that had you moaning and clenching around him, and he groaned at the feel of your body squeezing his dick. He shifted his position slightly and made sure he hit that spot over and over again, until you felt like you were the one unraveling beneath your favorite trucker.

“That’s it, good girl, take your Jakey’s cock,” he growled, his teeth nipping at your ear and your neck as he fucked you harder, feeling the way you twitched with pleasure in his arms. “Look so fucking gorgeous creaming on my cock—the most beautiful woman I’ve ever met, and you’re all fucking mine, isn’t that right, kitten?”

Your heart pounded in your chest, willing your lips to say yes, but all you could manage was a litany of your favorite trucker’s name, crying “Jakey, Jakey, Jakey.” You could feel the pleasure in your body coiling tight, and you knew it wouldn’t be long before Jake made you come. It felt better than you ever imagined, being with him, and you wanted it to last forever.

You could feel Jake’s smirk against your cheek and then his face was hovering above yours, his blue eyes nearly black with how wide his pupils had blown with arousal. It made him look nothing like the friendly trucker you’d met in the parking lot, but you wouldn’t trade in this unleashed side of Jake for anything. He wasn’t cute anymore, but he was so scorching hot, you thought you might come just from the way he was looking at you like you were his whole world.

“You gonna come, kitten?” he asked, his lightly teasing words at odds with the brutal way he was fucking you, his cock pounding into that delicious spot deep inside your cunt, his pelvic bone grinding against your clit every time he bottomed out inside you. “Gonna come all over the cock of the man who loves you? Gonna let the man who loves you come deep in your perfect cunt?”

Jake’s words were your undoing. The tension in your body snapped as your release crashed over you, pleasure consuming every part of your being as you screamed your trucker’s name, “Jakey!” Your body trembled, your hands fumbling against Jake’s shoulders as you tried to cling to him, but he wasn’t done with you yet.

“That’s it, that’s a good girl,” Jake muttered, his hips rutting into you as he chased his own release while drawing yours out. “Ya look so fucking pretty coming on my cock, kitten—the prettiest girl in the world, gonna make me come, gonna make me come so hard your tight, perfect pussy.” He captured your lips in a kiss, breaking away a moment later to grunt, “Fuck, fuck, you’re mine, kitten, all fucking mine.”

You felt Jake’s hips stutter against yours and then he pressed deep. His cock twitched inside you, and you knew he was flooding your pussy with his come, that thought making you moan deliriously. You pulled Jake down for a messy, sloppy kiss as you rode out your releases together, your cunt clenching around his cock to milk every drop of his seed into your pussy.

You writhed together for so long that Jake began to shudder from the overstimulation, and he collapsed on top of you, forcing you to stop while he moaned in your ear. Even still, you kept your legs hooked around his waist, refusing to let him go. His heavy weight was crushing you a little, but you didn’t mind as you stroked your fingertips up and down hi spine.

Eventually, both of you settled, and Jake rolled onto his side, dragging you with him. He hitched your leg over his hip to keep your bodies connected, seemingly just as reluctant as you were to pull away from where you were joined together.

But the realities of the world burrowed back into your mind, reminding you that no matter how much Jake loved you—and no matter how much you were falling in love with him—any relationship between the two of you was an impossibility.

If Mr. Drysdale found out you’d fucked one of the truckers that comprised Diesel Dolls’ clientele, there would be consequences. Even if you weren’t fired, you didn’t want to learn what punishment Mr. Drysdale would come up with to make sure you never saw Jake again. There’d be no way for you to have a relationship with your favorite trucker, even a secret one, since secrets had a way of coming out at Diesel Dolls.

Once you’d caught your breath and thoroughly freaked yourself out with your thoughts about the consequences of your actions, you sighed softly and began to extricate yourself from Jake. “I should go,” you murmured, but the moment you tried to pull away, Jake pulled you in tighter against his chest. There was a light dusting of hair coving his pecs and you couldn’t help but nuzzle deeper into the warmth and fuzziness of him.

Jake chuckled. “Do you really think I’m done with you already, kitten?” he asked teasingly, dropping a kiss to the top of your head. “I’ve wanted to get you in my arms and on my cock for months,” he said, his dick twitching inside you as he began to harden again. “I’m not letting you go just yet.” He nudged your face up to look at him, a little bit of vulnerability swirling in his blue eyes as he whispered, “Stay the night. Please.”

Your heart skipped a beat at the way Jake said ‘please’, like he would be heartbroken if you didn’t stay. At that moment, you realized just how much trouble you were in. It would break your heart to hurt Jake, but there was no way things didn’t end with one of you hurting the other. Either you’d hurt Jake by choosing your job over him or he’d hurt you by leaving. It was an impossible situation.

Jake seemed to sense your reluctance, and he kissed you softly, putting his heart into the slide of his lips against yours. “Let me take care of you, kitten,” he murmured.

You knew he was referring to sex, but a part of you suspected he meant more than that, too. You sucked in a soft gasp, wanting to believe he really wanted to take care of you, all of you, all of the time. But it was so difficult to believe. If you gave yourself to Jake fully, he’d have to really take care of you, forever. And you didn’t know if he was willing or capable of that.

It wasn’t like Jake was some sort of prince charming who’d whisk you off your feet and carry you off into the sunset. This was real life, and he was a trucker. One day he’d leave, and, odds were, he wouldn’t be taking you with him. It wasn’t like he was asking you to let him take care of you for the rest of your life.

But if all he was asking for was one night, you could give him that. It was only one night, after all.

“Ok,” you murmured, kissing Jake sweetly, twining your fingers in his blond hair and rocking your body against his, fucking yourself on his cock. “I’m yours for tonight, Jakey.”

You could feel Jake’s grin against your lips, and feel his happiness in the way he squeezed you tight. His elation was heady and you almost got lost in it, imagining yourself leaving with Jake when he went back out on the road.

You pictured Jake rescuing you from Mr. Drysdale, fighting for you when your boss from Diesel Dolls inevitably protested you leaving. You imagined fitting perfectly into Jake’s life as a trucker, and eventually becoming his sweet little wife. You imagined being his princess while he was your prince charming.

But it was all a fantasy, and you knew that. You weren’t some princess locked in a tower by a wicked witch, and Jake wasn’t your prince charming. But for one night, you could pretend. What harm could it do.

trucker king masterlist

#jake jensen #jake jensen smut #jake jensen fanfiction #jake jensen x reader #trucker jake jensen #jake jensen x you #jake jensen imagine #jake jensen fluff #jake jensen au #trucker au #chris evans #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans smut #chris evans characters #witchywithwhiskeywork

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thedevilspearl · 2 years ago

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do you ever get the idea some of the brothers have a human kink? if so? who? i personally think lucifer and beelzebub. sometimes satan if he’s not thinking about committing manslaughter messing with lucifer!♡ (ꈍ ω ꈍ) ♡

-☽

the brothers with a human kink — most to least

a/n: i have to tell you, moon nonnie — i’m genuinely not sure with this one! it’s not something i’ve considered greatly before but when i think about the brothers with a human kink, i have a feeling they all have it, just to different extents. so i did a mtl if that’s okay ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝

also i’ve been sick in bed all day, so thank you for this awesome idea to keep me going ₍⸝ ˃̵͈᷄ . ˂̵͈᷅ ₎⸝ ♡

tags: all brothers, no explicit smut but consistent discussion of kinks, so minors do not interact! other kink warnings — power play, mild predator/prey, vore, exhibitionism.

𝐋𝐔𝐂𝐈𝐅𝐄𝐑

lucifer’s human kink is so lowkey that he doesn’t realise it himself, but it’s actually the most prominent out of all the brothers. it’s the fact that humans are so fragile compared to demons; one wrong move could be fatal so it brings out his protective side. he wants to be by your side, watching your every move to ensure your safety and well–being. it’s innocent at first, but then comes the part where he wants to test your limits, both in and outside of the bedroom. how much can a human like you take from a demon like him?

𝐁𝐄𝐄𝐋𝐙𝐄𝐁𝐔𝐁

he’s always thought about eating you, it was one of his first thought when meeting you, in fact. of course, he would never but there’s a little pit of fire in his belly that warms him up in all the right places when he thinks about it, and how weak you would be against him if he ever gave into his desires. he’s vocal about this kink, telling you how he adores you and how yummy you look. now, in the bedroom, there are some real tests of faith because he can become so close to devouring you whole. but he is aware of how strong his human kink is, so he knows how much more control he needs around you, especially when every little thing you do can set him off.

𝐌𝐀𝐌𝐌𝐎𝐍

the power trip from a human kink is what gets mammon going. he knows for sure how powerful he is, and his self–restraint is incredible. he’s never going to hurt you at all, let alone with his demon powers. but there’s no harm in threatening you a little with it, right? it totally boosts his ego when he sees you get all fidgety when he brags about how strong he is, and how a silly human like you could never best him. but, and this is a big but, he finds it all the more thrilling when a silly human like you actually overpowers him. he’s not as strong against his human as he thought, and his human kink is raging when you put him in his place.

𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐀𝐍

satan has a deep understanding of the difference between him and you. more than any of the brothers, he really acknowledges the power difference and he never wants to use that against you. and that is why he tries his hardest to never use the fact that you’re a human to sexualise you. he treats you as his equal, someone he would never use his power to take advantage of. however, if you were to suggest you were into it, he wouldn’t mind feeding his sinful desires and put you in your pitiful place. after all, what power does a human have to protest the demon of wrath?

𝐀𝐒𝐌𝐎𝐃𝐄𝐔𝐒

a human kink and exhibitionism come hand in hand with asmodeus. for him, it’s not entirely about power play like with some of the others but rather, he and he alone has the human every demon is after. he once was the most sought after, but now it’s you and it will always amaze him how a human could do that in a world where demons could destroy you in a second. you have the real power here, and he wants to flaunt that. walking side by side with everyone’s favourite human who looks at no one else but him... it makes him happy, and flustered. he relishes in everyone’s gaze towards the two of you. it’s a match that shouldn’t work, but it does and it excites him. he wants to show them everything.

𝐁𝐄𝐋𝐏𝐇𝐄𝐆𝐎𝐑

belphie’s emotional connection to the human race is far too deep; from hate to jealousy, to something akin to love after meeting you. he appreciates they way you helped him overcome his past views and actions, but regret will always remain deeply rooted in his soul. so he tries not to think about these things. it’s not right to think of you in such ways simply because you are human. after everything you taught him, he thinks he’s sick to even think about a human kink. but then again, it’s in his nature as a demon to want to overpower those who are lesser than him. he’s very conflicted and tries to hide it, but he will sometimes lose control and show you this dark secret of his.

𝐋𝐄𝐕𝐈𝐀𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐍

while kinks are inevitable in a relationship, he doesn’t see them so significantly. sex is special, for sure. but what matters to him is the chemistry between you, the flow of emotions and the genuine feeling you have for each other. but still, he loves that you challenge him. a mere human thinking they can take on the grand admiral of hell’s navy? he won’t back down so easily. every now and then, he likes to remind both you and himself of his powers as a demon, and he loves even more the blush on your face when you test his strength. whether it’s out of fear or arousal, it drives him crazy.

#♡ pearl’s writing #obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me headcanons #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obey me smut #obey me smut headcanons #obey me x reader

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lxndonorris · 11 months ago

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back inside the cockpit - Max Verstappen (SFS24)

Y/N x Max Verstappen Theme: Smut (you've been warned) testing begins and you're joining Max during his stint. Tension rises, between the smell of rubber and the roaring of the new Red Bull. word count: 2460+ taglist: @game-set-canet another part of the suit fitting saga 24 (SFS24), if you have any request, let me know! Next one is about Lando :)

As the new racing season looms on the horizon, you find yourself drawn into the whirlwind of excitement that engulfs your boyfriend, Max Verstappen, a professional racing driver. Joining him for the tests marks the beginning of an exciting and promising year of high-speed racing.

Inside his private quarters, the anticipation hangs thick in the air as Max showcases his sleek navy blue racing suit for the very first time. With a mischievous grin, he catches your eye before slipping into the tight, dark undergarments—the fireproofs—each deliberate movement meant to show off a little.

Running a hand along your own thighs, you bite your lip. Looking down at your own clothes—the new Red Bull team gear—you're drawn to the thought of him holding you close, the faint scent of his cologne engulfing you both. It's his shirt that he gave to you just minutes prior. He wore it to the track this morning; it is still warm and smells like him. It's a little wide, but that's okay—it's his, after all, and that's what matters.

You lift your eyes, just in time to catch him tugging his trunk into his trousers. Max, watching you the whole time, smirks—he looks so good with his bare chest still on display and his thighs filling his pants easily.

Then, he slips into the upper half with a low groan, and one arm at a time, the tight fabric swings itself along his bulging biceps, shoulders, and pecs.

You vividly recall the countless hours he spent in the gym, pushing himself to the limit as he sculpted his body into a lean, mean racing machine. Drenched in sweat, his muscles straining with exertion, he remained unwavering in his pursuit of excellence, each drop of sweat a testament to his dedication and resolve.

"Like what you see?" Max teases, his voice low and husky as he flexes his muscles, the fabric molding to his form with effortless precision.

You nod, unable to tear your gaze away from him, the desire pooling in the pit of your stomach as you admire the way the fireproofs hug his every curve.

"You look incredible." You murmur, your voice barely above a whisper, as you reach out to trace the contours of his chest, the fabric smooth beneath your fingertips.

With a chuckle, Max captures your hand in his, pressing a gentle kiss to the back of it before slipping into the rest of the racing suit.

Still running your other hand across his firm chest, he draws you close. His lips mere inches from yours, Max presses a tender kiss against your lips.

"It feels good," he purrs into your mouth, "but I need to put the rest on."

Chuckling, you pull away slowly, your eyes meeting his in a locked gaze.

"Can't wait to see it all," you say, patting his chest, You stroke him again before he takes a step back.

With practiced ease, he begins to don the racing suit, each movement fluid and deliberate as he allows you to linger in the space between you, your fingers tracing the lines of his body with gentle reservence.

The fabric clings to him like a lover's embrace, the zipper inching upward with agonizing slowness as he reveals himself to you in all his glory.

Piece by piece, he assembles his racing ensemble, each article of clothing a tantalizing glimpse into the raw power and athleticism that lie beneath. With each touch and each caress, you feel a surge of desire course through you, igniting a fire that threatens to consume you both.

As he fastens the last buckle, his eyes meet yours, a smoldering intensity burning within their depths. Pulling you close, Max allows you to feel the strength of his arms, the solidness of his chest, and the desire building up inside him.

"It feels so good to be back." He exclaims, a bright smile spreading across his soft lips.

"I can tell." Running a hand along his waistline, you let your fingertips barely brush across his crotch, the dark fabric concealing his longing excitement.

With a smirk, he nods toward the door. "We've gotta go."

Together, you make your way toward the garage, the scent of gasoline and rubber mingling with the heady rush of adrenaline as you near the track.

Standing side by side as Max adorns himself with the essential gear—gloves and a helmet—you can't help but feel a sudden swell of pride and aluurement at the sight of him, his passion and determination radiating from every pore.

"Ready to show them what you're made of?" you ask, your voice filled with unwavering support as you watch him settle into the driver's seat.

Max flashes you a grin, his eyes alight with excitement. "You bet," he replied, his voice tinged with anticipation as he revs the engine, the roar of the car drowning out the world around you.

As he speeds off onto the track, you linger in the garage, your heart racing in tandem with the thunderous roar of the engines. Watching him maneuver with grace and precision, a sense of awe washes over you, a deep-seated admiartion for the man who never ceases to amaze you with his skill and passion.

Through the cackle of the radio, you catch snippets of his laughter, a symphony of joy reverberating through the air. In that moment—behind the wheel, pushing the car to its limit for the very first time.

Just by the tone of his voice, you can tell he is as excited as ever, with his passion for racing echoing through the radio. You know how much he loves this, speeding through corners and flying down the straights while giggling to himself.

For a while, you watch the new Red Bull finish more and more laps, being tested to its core.

When Max returns, your heart trembles in excitement.

As he steps out of the car, a wave of exhilaration emanates from him, visible in every movement and every gesture as he navigates the bustling garage with an air of confidence that is impossible to ignore.

The way he carries himself speaks volumes—a man at the top of his game, ready for another season and its challenges lying ahead.

With a huge smile plastered across his face, Max engages in animated conversations with the mechanics, his enthusiasm infectious as he shares his experience with the new car on track.

His eyes sparkle with excitement, a mirror of the joy that dances within his soul, as he makes his way toward you.

As Max draws near, his gaze locks onto yours, a magnetic pull that leaves you breathless in its wake.

Without hesitation, he pulls you into his embrace; his body presses firmly against yours, making sure to hold you close.

"How was it?" You ask, running a hand across his chest, tracing the letters written on his suit with your fingertips.

"So good." Max tries to hold back a soft moan. You're the only one who is meant to know how he feels right now.

He is completely enthralled by driving that car, with adrenaline and desire pumping through his veins—pure hedonism.

Unable to tear his gaze away, he drinks in the sight of you adorned in his team's merchandise, a proud smile gracing his lips as he adores the way the colors complement your features.

With tenderness born of passion, he leans in, his lips capturing yours in a passionate kiss. Lost in the sweetness of his embrace, you melt against him, your heart beating on time with his as you savor the fleeting moments of intimacy amidst the hustle and bustle of the racing world.

Now, it's his Checo's turn to speed along the track, and the two of you decide to head back into Max's quarters.

Inside his motorhome, the air crackles with electricity as he peels off the upper half of his racing suit, revealing the snug fireproofs that hug his form like a second skin. Every movement seems amplified, every contour of his body is highlighted by the adrenaline coursing through every fiber of his body.

Max runs a hand across his thick chest, his muscles rippling beneath the fabric as he turns to face you, a confident smirk playing at the corners of his lips. Running a hand through his tousled hair, he exudes an effortless charm that never fails to leave you breathless.

"I'm so hard right now," blurts out of his mouth as he grabs himself through his tight racing suit. Due to its color, it's barely able to hide the bulge forming inside his trousers. All of this excitement building up inside him is revealing his feelings for racing, but also for having you by his side.

"Do you feel that too?" he asks, his voice low and husky, sending shivers down your spine as his gaze locks with yours.

In that moment, with the weight of his gaze bearing down on you, you feel a surge of desire unlike anything you have ever felt before.

Steadying yourself against his strong frame, you lean in, the distance between you evaporating as your lips meet in a fervent kiss.

"So much," you breathe into him. "I just need you so much." His muscles tense at your slightest touch.

Teasing him, you trace the contours of his form, your fingers dancing across the expanse of his chest, eliciting a low rumble of pleasure from deep down within his throat. Pulling you close, he envelops you in his embrace, the familiar scent of his cologne wrapping around you like a comforting blanket.

The embrace grows tighter the more passionately you kiss each other. Both of you let your hands encompass each other's bodies, and with every little stroke and every soft touch, you give in to him more and more.

Your hand manages to slip underneath his tight shirt, feeling his warm skin and his firm muscles against your skin, giving you goosebumps.

At the same time, his hands are cupping your boobs, touching you firmly yet lovingly.

"Mhmm." You moan into him once more when he starts to grind his crotch against your thighs, making sure to let you feel his ever-growing length.

"Now?" Max's rough voice breaks as he tries to catch his breath. "I can't hold it in any longer."

His entire body is aching for relief, and he is asking you to help him find it. Your own is craving him as well, with all of you longing for him—the touch of his skin against yours, the whispered promises of unbridled passion and desire.

"Fuck." You growl once his hand slides in between the two of you and between your legs. "I need you."

With one swift motion, he somehow manages to unbutton your jeans while you two make your way through the room. Unable to find the sofa in time, you end up with your back against the cold wall.

"Max." You let out a low groan while he keeps on kissing you, his hands now inside your pants, his fingers knowing his way around your body just like he knows the way around the different tracks. "It feels so good."

Steadying yourself against his strong frame again, you stroke his chest and let your hand run down his body, tracing the tangible outlines of his abs through his shirt before you touch his member.

Easily, your hand slips into his racing suit and his fireproofs, touching him firmly.

Like you pushed the right buttons, Max leans his head back, one hand on his own chest, the other still inside your pants.

Your jeans slowly drop down to your ankles as he removes his hand, needing both of his hands to please himself.

"Y/N." He shudders, slowly regaining his composure, turning his head to face you again. His beautiful eyes are burning brightly, and their gaze threatens to smother you whole.

Effortlessly, you pull his dick out of his pants and fondle him for a while as he embraces you fully.

Max then leans in again, kissing you hard, this time much more possessive and determined to make you his.

Being so busy pleasing him, you don't even notice him pulling at your underwear, removing them just enough for him to fit inside you. Leaning back against the wall, you give in to him.

With a tender kiss, he slips inside your body, both of your minds shrouded by the blissful passion engulfing the two of you.

His groans, moans, and familiar smell make it easy for you to let him guide you further and further as he starts rocking his hips against yours.

Max is slowly increasing the strength and pace of his thrusts, with one of his hands pulling up your leg to make it easier for him. To steady yourself, you wrap one arm around his neck while the other strokes his chest firmly, encouraging him to keep going.

Your bodies are moving as one; Max's rhythm is easy for you to follow; and you enjoy how tight his body presses against yours.

After what feels like an eternity, you reach your limits, and simultaneously, you climax—a sensational feeling of shared desire and relief.

Max still holds you close, placing kisses all over your neck while you run a hand through his messy, sweaty hair.

"I needed that." He growls; his usual rough voice sounds much deeper, huskier, and smoother.

"Me too." Kissing him, you enjoy each other's embrace for a little while longer before he separates himself from you.

You help each other change clothes, replacing every article of clothing with a loving kiss, a gentle touch, and a shared smile.

Before it's time to leave the motorhome, you take one last look at Max's racing suit, now hanging in front of the cupboard door—a beautiful piece of art. You trace the letters of his name written on the waistline, knowing that he is yours after all.

Then, hands run along your waistline from behind, pulling you back into a warm hug.

"Thank you for being there for me, always." Max breathes into your ear, his chest tight against your back, just the way you like it.

"It's my pleasure." You reply, then turn around to look into his now soft face.

He is wearing the Red Bull shirt now—typical Max—but you wouldn't want it any other way. Stroking his chest again, you enjoy how tight his body still feels and how his clothes accentuate his form so well.

"I like that." Max lets out a guttural growl before smirking again. "It smells like you now." He blushes slightly.

"But it's mine once we're done here." You pinch his nipple playfully, causing him to giggle.

"Of course," he leans in, kissing you again before it's time to head to a team meeting.

#max verstappen x reader #max verstappen imagine #max verstappen x you #max verstappen fanfic #Max verstappen smut #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 fic #f1 x you #F1 smut #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 imagine #formula 1 fanfic

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vivwritesfics · 1 year ago

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No Need To Ask - CS55

Chapter Six - Family Dinner

The Norris' were a notorious crime family in the UK. One of many. With Norris, the head of the family, running operations with his son, Lando, they work to keep Y/N Norris, Norris' daughter protected. Life in a crime family wasn't something they wanted for her.

But with tension with one of the Spanish crime families rise, Norris and his now deceased wife come up with only one plan, offer their daughter to the Sainz's or risk an all out war.

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After their chess game, Y/N felt more comfortable roaming the house. Of course, she limited herself to four rooms. The room that had been given to her, the bathroom, the kitchen and the library. Y/N was still too nervous to take her own food in the kitchen in the unfamiliar house.

Y/N began spending a lot of time in the library. She sat on the plush chairs, reading the few books she could find in English. But her gaze would always be pulled towards the glass doors, distracted as she watched Carlos on his morning swim.

On this afternoon, Y/N had Oscar sitting opposite her as they played chess. “This set is far nicer than the one I have at home,” Y/N said. But a pang went through her chest. This was now the set at home. She didn’t let it show on her face as she stole Oscar’s rook.

Already Oscar had lost four games before Y/N started giving him pointers. Still, she was winning. “Why can I picture you hiding out in here on your wedding day?” He asked, unable to hide that smile of his.

“Osc, don’t,” Y/N muttered as he moved his piece. But she quickly changed where he placed it, stealing one of her own pieces and placing it in front of him. “I don’t want to think about that right now.”

Oscar let out a sigh as Y/N stole his knight. “C’mon. Talk to me about it.”

Y/N’s gaze moved to the doors that led out to the patio. Carlos was out there, sat around the fire pit that wasn’t lit, with his men around him. Y/N could see the gun sticking out of the waistband of his trousers, a shudder running through her. But then his eyes met hers and Y/N quickly looked away.

“I was so scared of Sainz when I was a child. Like, I saw him in my nightmares, pointing a gun at me. And then Lando came to me saying that before my mother died, she had arranged for me to marry Carlos. I accepted it. Like, it’s for the good of the family. How could I say no? And then we had that dinner at the house. Sainz was still so scary to me, and Carlos came across as such a sweet person.”

Y/N swallowed the lump in her throat. “I thought I could do this. I was okay with marrying him. But then we got here. Carlos showed his power as soon as we got to the house and that scared me. But still, I could push through. For the good of the family. And then he attacked you.”

Oscar couldn’t stop himself from staring at her. If he could save her from this life, he would, but there was nothing he could do. He’d thought about it; ever since he first found out about the arrangement.

He looked down at the chess board. “I’m stumped here,” he said, and Y/N moved his piece for him, bringing him just a step closer to winning.

But that wasn’t enough. Y/N used her Queen to get to his king, winning the same. Again, her eyes met Carlos. He was still watching her, like he never stopped. He was leaning forward, elbows on his knees and his arms clasped together. His gaze was so intense, Y/N had to look away.

***

As always, Oscar was the one to pull open the door, coming face to face with the person on the other side. He expected to see Carlos, he was the only one who had come to do the door so far.

But not. Instead of Carlos was an incredibly large man. He had dark there and a lot of stubble, with not quite enough facial here to be a proper beard. He was tall, Oscar craning his neck to look up at him. “Can I help you?” Asked Oscar, keeping the door partially closed.

The man grunted. “She is to come down for dinner,” the man said with a thick Spanish accent.

“No, she isn’t.”

Suddenly Y/N was on her feet. She stood beside Oscar, just out of view of the man. Her eyes were wide as she watched him, trying to tell him to stop.

“The master of the house would like her to come down for dinner,” the man tried again.

Oscar let out a huff. “Well, you can tell the master of the house that she’s staying where she is and he can f-”

“Please tell Carlos that I’ll be down in just a moment,” Y/N said quickly as she pushed Oscar out of the way. Y/N gave the man what she hoped was a polite smile and shut the door. “Oscar,” she began, her voice full of warning.

“I know,” Oscar immediately replied, throwing himself into the chair by the vanity. “I know, but I don’t want him bossing you about and controlling you. I don’t like it,” he said as he stared at her.

Y/N’s eyes softened as she walked over to him. “Oh, Osc,” she said softly and gave him a kiss on the cheek. “Stay here, okay? I’ll make sure they bring you something good for dinner.”

Somewhat reluctantly, Oscar nodded his head. “If anything happens, scream and I’ll come running,” he said.

Nodding her head, Y/N made her way out of her room. She gave Oscar one last look as she shut the door, meeting the big, gruff man outside of her door.

He grunted and began walking, leading her down the hall and down the stairs. “I’m sorry about him,” she said. The man didn’t reply. He was silent as he led her down the stairs and out through the back doors.

The Sainz family, the entire Sainz family, were sat around the table on the patio. Carlos sat beside his mother, with his father at the head of the table and his sisters opposite him. There was one seat left, presumably for Y/N.

The Spanish chatter stopped as the Sainz family looked at Y/N. She swallowed the lump in her throat and walked over on shaky legs.

Before Y/N could get to the table, Carlos stood up and pulled out the chair for her. “I was beginning to think you wouldn’t come down,” he said quietly and softly.

Again, Y/N saw that man from their dinner in England. The one who stuck up for her against his own father. She gave Carlos something of a smile as he sat in his own chair and offered her something to eat. Even though he was being sweet, there was still that edge to him.

“How are you enjoying our country?” Asked Sainz as he looked across the table at Y/N. When Y/N looked at him, she couldn’t help but be scared. He looked the same as he did all of those years ago, when he had a gun pointed at her.

Y/N picked up her throat. “It’s very beautiful,” she answered as she looked past him, at the golfing green. “And very warm.”

Sainz let out something of a laugh. “A stark contrast to your own country,” he said and Y/N let out a small and disingenuous laugh.

“Carlos tells me you enjoy chess,” he continued.

The women at the table hadn’t yet said anything. They looked towards the head of the table, at the imposing head of the family.

Even when Y/N answered him, their gaze stayed on Sainz. It was only Carlos who looked at her. “Yes,” she said, poking the chicken with her fork. Y/N had yet to eat anything, not when Sain was asking her so many questions. “I used to play with my mother, before we lost her.”

“Ah,” Sainz replied and nodded his head. Y/N took a moment to eat something. “Your mother and I were good friends before everything went to shit.”

Y/N’s eyes snapped towards him. she hadn’t expected that. She was too young to remember much before the feud started, but she hadn’t thought her mother was actually friends with Sainz. “We were very sorry to hear when she passed on,” Sainz finished.

“I miss her a lot,” Y/N muttered. Her eyes were watering, but she wasn’t going to cry, not in front of the Sainz family.

They noticed. They definitely did. Carlos’ sisters began muttering something Y/N couldn’t understand, something in Spanish.

Back in Y/N’s room, Oscar did exactly as he was told. He moved the chair away from the vanity and dragged it over to the window. There he sat, watching as Y/N ate dinner with the Sainz. He couldn’t see Carlos or his father, but could see his sisters as they chatted between themselves.

As Oscar watched, he lifted his phone to his ear. Y/N was hardly eating, he noted as the phone rang. When she was in her room she had no trouble eating, he thought somewhat bitterly.

The person he was calling picked up. “How is she?” Asked Lando.

He’d been home for five days, barely able to do any work with how much he was worrying about his sister. He’d wanted to call her, wanted so desperately to speak to her, but he couldn’t, not unless he wanted to upset Carlos and his father.

Oscar released a breath. “She’s… Okay,” he said, somewhat slowly. “Three days after you left Carlos took her downstairs to play chess. She’s taken me down there a few times.”

“You’ve got chess there?” Asked Lando. “She’ll be happy with that.”

Suddenly Oscar sucked in a deep breath. There were things he wanted to say, but it was going to take a lot of courage. But, if he didn’t say it, he’d never be able to forgive himself. “Lando, I want to save her from this.”

“Yeah, we all do, Oscar,” Lando replied, his voice short.

“No, I mean, I want to get her away from this. As soon as possible,” Oscar continued. “I could contact Mark and find out if he could help in any way.”

“And then what?”

Oscar hadn’t thought that far ahead. “I don’t know,” he said. “I was thinking we could get could her away from here, take her to Australia and then figure things out,” he said.

“No, Oscar. If we do that then we’re asking for all-out war,” Lando immediately said. It wasn’t like he hadn’t thought about it before. He had, every minute of every day since he left Spain. Lando had even been to speak to his father about it. But if he acted on it, he’d he putting so many people in danger.

Taglist (open): @multi-universe21 @formulas-bitch @gills-lounge @weasleyswizarding-wheezes @carlossainzwho @f1lov3r @samaib11 @charli123456789 @queenofmanydreams @ironmaiden1313 @vellicora @glitterf1 @80sloverry @lightdragonrayne @moonayu @bellsalabanccini @topguncultleader @handsupforamiracle @cmleitora

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warsofasoiaf · 4 months ago

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A feudal contract is a method of gaining power for rulers, ensuring loyalty of the support base they need. The Targaryens didn't need the nobles as a support base before the dance, they were kept around as a convenience. The field of fire and Harrenhal prove that beyond any doubt. Even after the dance you had people like Aegon the Unworthy brutalizing people and taking noble women as he pleased (heavily implied to be without consent in some cases). There was no feudal contract, The Targaryens began as absolute monarchs with dragon power and continued to act as such until people realized that they could put a stop to it.

Westeros is it's own world with it's own politics and culture. You can't understand it perfectly by assuming it functions like medieval Europe. The fact that letting the peasants die during war is standard practice disproves the idea of a feudal structure on the lower end of society as well. The social structure is closer to ancient China.

A feudal contract is also a means to devolve power in the absence of a established central bureaucracy to administer territory. House Targaryen's use of Torrhen Stark to put down the Sunderland revolt or the various (failed) uses of viceroys and other noble appointments to administer the failed conquests of Dorne handily rebut your thesis that they kept around the nobles as a "conveinence." Aegon ruling on legal matters using maesters to advise on legal precedent and customs, and Jaehaerys I's consolidation of the legal code to ensure specific rights granted to lords, knights, and kings from everything to the right of pits and gallows to who is mandated to sit "above the salt" demonstrate that there are very clear structures in place that are very much not an "absolute monarchy." Nobles inherit their fiefs by right, a hallmark of a hereditary military caste and one of the key elements that advanced aristocratic power in regards to royal power.

Moreover, the predation of the nobility over the smallfolk, from Aegon IV's use of the Goldcloakd as his personal kidnap squad to provide women for sexual assault to the vast toll that noble warfare takes on the peasantry is very much keeping in line with history, and GRRM's writing style of "history taken up to 11." Legal protections for young peasant women who found themselves pressured to satisfy a King's lust were minimal (feudalism depended on legal inequality between the social classes). Warfare on medieval Europe often depended upon the chevauchée, a deliberate targeting of peasants to weaken an enemy's economic base and stir up unrest from the peasants who would fear the lack of protection. Medieval warfare of knights versus knights was often a chaotic affair, it was more reliable to strike at a noble's lands and villages, raiding the granaries and terrifying the populace. Taking into account GRRM's own self-described penchant for exaggeration for dramatic emphasis and his style where he often focuses on the lurid even to the detriment of the book in question (Coryanne Wilde), it's quite understandable.

I've never pretended to say that I understand Westerosi society perfectly as you assert. GRRM has been rather open about using a rough layman's grasp of English and European feudalism as a model for the political landscape of Westeros that he drew from that is relatively common to plenty of fantasy writers. He draws from plenty of sources that have shaped his own life as well - a lot of the troubles of war against the smallfolk are drawn from his experiences as a Conscientious Objector in Vietnam portrayed through medieval warfare. He's not a medievalist, but to deny that feudalism is a key component of Westerosi society is not correct, going either from GRRM's own statements or an analysis of the text as a whole; it's just flat-out wrong. You seem to have a singular fixation on the idea that because of the dragons, the Targaryens acted like absolute monarchs, but that's both not true and a remarkably limited conception of what feudalism was.

-SLAL

#feudalism #writing

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martialartslover7 · 3 months ago

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Headcanon time: I feel like, during the Blank Period, we should have had the Daimyos as the new major antagonists, backed by Orochimaru and Kabuto, whom they had struck a deal with, as, ever since Naruto and the Shinobi Alliance managed to put an end to Madara's ambitions, and now that Orochimaru is back, now, they fear for their position, and to keep it that way, they "have no choice anymore, but to strike a deal with the enemy". Because we all know, Naruto is no longer uninformed. Most of what happened to him, along with the likes of Sasuke, Hinata, Neji and Gaara, only happened, because these withered, old fools, enjoy playing god, whenever it suits their convenience. Pretending they are above everyone else, even the Kage, yet doing little to nothing to ensure that the villages stay safe. And the worst part, they knew, they KNEW, that what a scumbag like Danzo was doing, was endangering everyone. So even if they weren't proactively supporting him, they still didn't ask questions, meaning, deep down, they really don't care what happens to their own villages, as long as they stay in power.

Kinda reminds me of real-life politicians. They have no principles, no integrity, they just make empty promises, and never act in the name of the people that voted for them, knowing full well, options are limited. Take that piece of knowledge for what you will.

And yes, I know, by this point in time, after the war, someone like Naruto and Sasuke would be way too strong, making these old farts appear like ants going up against dinosaurs, but here is the thing: This arc is less about raw aggression and fighting, and more based on psychological warfare. Naruto wants to become Hokage, right? Like, what is the driving force behind this story arc, the overarching goal? Simple: Naruto will not accept becoming Hokage in a system, that treated people like him, and Gaara, Kakashi, Might Guy (R.I.P.), Anko (don't @ me, she is buffed to hell in my AU, and has way more screen presence, she deserves it, even now making use of the Snake Sage mode, using Wood Style jutsu, and bearing the Kusanagi sword), Tsunade or Sasuke, like dog water. And this said system, is mostly backed by the Daimyos, the same people who never once thought to stop someone like Danzo from going on his insane ego power trip.

And we also know, Naruto is not type of person to be exactly interested in handling politics in a boring and straight-forward way. He will be leading this revolution, overthrowing the feudal rule, by hosting a "tournament" of sorts, a televised event, which, in their time period, will also livestream online (you cannot tell me, they didn't have internet of some kind there, even though, limited, because of the villages being practically militarized dictatorships, because of the Daimyos), to pit specific shinobi against one another, hoping to both entertain the crowd, to get them on his side (this is also a pro-Naruto political campaign, making the acceptance for his role as Hokage way easier in the long run), and publically humiliate the Daimyos by basically showing off to them: Hey. These people. These proud shinobi. They have made it so far, despite all your restrictions and the scrutiny you put them all through. And they made it big, despite you guys laughing in their faces.

But also, this trip to the Daimyos, will be financed by all the Five Kage, meaning, they can all indulge in some luxurious hotel stays, hot springs, good food, in short, their credit cards will be on fire. And Naruto, Sasuke and Shikamaru get to spend some time alone with their ladies, to some champagne and warm bubble baths, with room service (*Ahem* insert 'Careless Whisper' by George Michael *Ahem*).

youtube

C'mon. After all the crap they went through, they deserve some peace and quiet, and if they were going to change the system, they might as well make the most of it, if it's all financed by the village leaders.

And note, the following people will be following Naruto on this journey:

Kakashi

Anko (by this point in time, she and Kakashi are married, and she plays the role of Kakashi's advisor, too)

Sakura

Sasuke (he will be joining up with them in the city)

Rock Lee

Tenten (in my AU, remember, like I have shown in my "Tenten's Untold Backstory" one shot, she is a techwiz in that version of the story, meaning, having a technician with you, and a weapon master, all at the same time, invalueable, and well, I love the idea of Naruto and Tenten being the braindead besties, don't @ me)

Hinata

Shikamaru

Gaara

Temari

Kankuro

Killer Bee

Kurotsuchi (she came by herself, because she is growing a little exhausted with her grandpa, sorry XD)

Mei

Chojuro

Karin (Naruto and Karin will FINALLY meet and get the chance in learning more about one another, two Uzumaki foxes, flocking their tail as one, yay)

Suigetsu

Jugo

And the battles that Naruto has organized for the PPV, are the following:

- Naruto VS Ai (The Orange Flash VS The Raikage)

- Hinata VS Sasuke (Bankakyo VS Mangekyo)

- Rock Lee VS Gaara (Rematch)

- Tenten VS Killer Bee (Weapon Master Duel)

- Temari VS Chojuro (Fan VS Sword)

- Shikamaru VS Kankuro (Protective Brother VS Sister's BF)

- Sakura VS Kurotsuchi (The ladies, whose punches feel like dynamite)

As you can see, as Movie Shadow would say:

But well, again, because of the Daimyos striking a deal with Orochimaru, things will not go as planned, and pure chaos will break out. Essentially, that snake man will suggest to them, a machine, built from the stolen blue prints that Tenten created (yup, she will be that vital in the story, she is the only one who can stop this machine), that shall spread madness all across the globe, until the entire planet is enveloped in a mist, so deep, humanity will be wiped out completely, succumbing to the madness from within. Following up on the trauma and scars that Madara and Obito have left behind. It's not exactly clear, that part, I still need to flesh out in my mind, but the fact remains, it's meant to be this one final hurdle of a story, until Naruto returns home, and can finally start applying for the ranks of Chunin, Jonin, and at last, the Hokage position, in peace. Giving Anko and Ibiki full clearance to do whatever they want with the arrested Daimyos, for having struck a deal with an S-rank criminal.

And just this once...

...Naruto will be landing in a very miserable situation, where this madness machine affects him the most, out of everyone, even worse than Sasuke, as Kabuto will be pulling a very nasty trick on him. Yup, Naruto is definitely colder in this story, rightfully so, for many reasons. Usually, that's Sasuke's job, but they switch places here, as soon as Orochimaru starts causing trouble.

Peace.

P.S.: Also, for the shipping freaks among all of you, during this entire trip, Mei is flirting with Shino through her phone. Yup. Shino X Mei. Thank the YouTuber @NCHammer23 for giving me this downright MENTAL, but ingenious idea. Shino is a "granny chaser" in my AU. Don't @ me. For context, here is the video, where he explains it all, and trust me, very rarely, do YouTubers win me over, but this one, made me both laugh, but also smile at the end. Shino also deserves some love.

And again, Neji is alive in my AU, so Tenten will be very lovestruck and make a lot of phone calls with him, who decided to stay back at the village, along with the others from the Konoha 12, just in case the Daimyos decide to stab them in the back and attack the villages, while the leaders are out of town.

youtube

Note: The part between Shino and Mei starts at about 17:39.

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cozzzynook · 7 months ago

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Hi cozy I'm back

What would happen if Blitzwing of bee got sick? (If that's within hc bounds for blitzbee) I can't find much on this topic also love your writing it literally makes my day <3333

Thank you so much blitzedwing3576!

So I like including disability in my stories so to me when you say sick i can either go the route where they get sick from a virus or they have a disability and it’s a bad pain day. Also anything can be a headcanon, no need for limits 🥰.

If they get sick with a virus Blitzwing tries to walk it off and be tough because Decepticons are used to harsh treatment on their frames and many really can just go about there day with a virus thats weakening them. They weren’t given breaks before the war so they aren’t used to them now. Bee has to force Blitzwing to rest and he makes him energon soup to help speed up his recovery. Blitzwing is secretly grateful and doesn’t know how to handle such affections but a frame denting hug is more than enough for Bee.

If Bee gets sick its apparent while it sets in. He’s a mini bot with a viral protectant that isn’t very strong so Bee is used to having to go to the medbay at the first signs of a virus. He’s hooked up to a drip with a scanner telling him which virus it is and getting a shot for it. Bee is Ratchets favorite patient when it comes to sickness but his worst when it comes to frame maintenance. Blitzwing stays by his side the entire time ( this is after the ear ) only getting up to flush his tanks or bring Bee energon. Bee doesn’t take long to work through the virus since he goes immediately to get help.

Now for the disability aspect, they have a bad pain day.

Blitzwing would be head aches and frame pain from the surgery to become a triple changer. When he has bad pain days Bee makes an old home made remedy of oil ointment that helps soothe the pain in Blitzwings joints and wings and struts. He puts noise canceling headphones on Blitzwings audials and a heavy blindfold over his optics to help soothe his head ache. Bee also gives the ointment to Ratchet for his joint pain. Bee loves taking care of others so he has no problem servo feeding Blitzwing energon.

Bee has frame pain when its cold. He’s not built to take anything cold and he’s often in the base during winter. He only goes out with Prowl, Ratchet or Blitzwing. He refuses to go out with Optimus ever again because unlike Prowl and Ratchet who make sure he’s heavily padded with clothes to keep warm, he holds Bee like a sparkling and revs his powerful engine to generate more than enough frame heat for the both of them. Its embarrassing. Bee only likes to be held by Blitzwing and Bulkhead. He does not sneak into Optimus’s office and curl up to fall asleep in his lap when its cold and he wants his sire friend.

The first time Blitzwing experiences Bees frame pain he panics a little but then pulls his mini bot close and gets angry to make the space incredibly hot. Bee explains his dysfunction ( disability ) and Blitzwinf nods. The very next day Bee wakes up to their home and room back at the plant filled with beautiful, servo crafted fire pits just for him. He stays in one room to keep from using them all at the same time and so Blitz doesn’t over heat. He’s extremely grateful and doesn’t know how he can show Blitzwing his appreciation. He hopes new sculpting and art supplies are enough.

#blitzwing #blitzbee #bumblebee #tfa #transformers #blitzwing x bumblebee #tfa bumblebee #tfa blitzwing #blitzwing transformers #tfa headcanons

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bat-therapy · 14 days ago

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a bird's wings

warnings: gun violence (it's jason. what did you expect)

Dick doesn't fall.

It's become somewhat of an ongoing bit within the family. He's trained for such a long time ("too long," Tim complains, immediately after falling off a set of bars) that it's become almost second nature. He moves with the ease of decades of practice. His body had been trained almost from birth to be more flexible, to move his weight at the strangest angles, to keep stretching beyond his limits - all with a smile on his face.

It doesn't matter what League-inspired traps Damian leaves on the stairs, silently watching and analyzing the way in which Dick barely spares razor a passing glance as he simply bends out of the way. It doesn't matter if Cass tries for a well-timed shove down the stairs when his body is positioned just the wrong way, not when Dick simply vaults over the bannister, balancing on the rail with one hand for just long enough that Cass knows it's intentional, the cocky bastard. It doesn't matter how many of them team up against him - and they have tried.

Even when he does fall - as he tells his family constantly, he does fall - it's an elegant thing. If his hand slips, it's quickly replaced by another, redirecting him through the air, moving with a wind that only exists for him. When his feet don't meet the ground quite like he expected, his momentum carries him into a roll that looks just as intentional as his original movement. His mistakes are erased in the space between heartbeats, expression unwavering, a true performer.

In fact, Dick is so agile that Duke, when they first met, had wholeheartedly believed that he had to be a meta-human. Sure, there are plenty of flexible and agile people out there, but it's unnerving how he moves. His joints bend too far; his ligaments stretch beyond Duke's comfort. In a moment of curiosity, Duke asked Jason and Tim. Jason's expression didn't change (dying internally), and Tim made an odd choking noise (swallowing his own laughter). Duke interpreted these as (Jason) he was correct in his belief, which was no laughing matter, and (Tim) Duke should not know about Dick's meta-human status. It took years (and a blood test in the Batcave) for Duke to believe that Dick was actually a very unusual human.

Bruce, in his quietest moments, thinks it's magic. Years ago, lives ago, Jason had described being Robin as magic. And, of course, the role does hold its own power, but Dick's magic has always been his own. He was magic before he was Robin, and he was Bruce's son - a title that carried its own kind of magic.

That magic extended to his nights out on patrol, particularly when he was with Red Hood and Robin. Of course, he often found himself Batman's patrol route - Nightwing, Red Hood, and Robin tagging along just for shits. Hell, Nightwing wasn't even supposed to be out - not when he'd had so many consecutive night patrols - but with so many of them, what could go wrong?

That night, the four of them cornered a criminal on a rooftop. Even after clambering up a fire escape, Nightwing's breathing had barely changed, Batman's was easily concealed, Robin had tested a new grappling hook, and no one is quite sure how breathing works for Red Hood after some oddities in the Lazarus Pit.

Instead of surrendering, the desperate, stupid man had sprinted directly at them, firing a gun wildly with one hand and screaming at the top of his lungs. Nightwing sidestepped easily, having seen similar idiocy in Bludhaven. What he wasn't expecting was to step into Robin. He adjusted, angling his body to the side to plant his other foot--

--which landed on Batman's cape, right as the older man was turning to watch the criminal run. The material pulled out from under him just in time for the criminal to impact Nightwing directly. On its own, it would barely be enough to move him, and even still, Nightwing watches as the man bounces off him directly into Red Hood's grasp.

But in this moment, in the perfect cascade of errors, Nightwing stumbles backwards off the roof.

Nightwing doesn't panic immediately. He twists his body, turning his stumble into a somersault without a second thought. He looks down, trying to find something, but there are no windows. No ledges. He is too far away from the fire escape. It is a solid, brick wall, and there is nothing for him to grab onto.

And Dick falls.

It's never the fall that hurts, he knows. Falling is so close to flying, and he spreads his arms like a bird about to take flight. For a heartbeat, he's a child being tossed in the air, he's a teenager slipping off a trapeze bar, and he knows there is something below him. Strong arms and laughter, a net that will bend with his inertia.

The only thing beneath him is concrete.

When his body hits the ground, it makes far too loud of a sound for a man who had always seemed lighter than air.

Out of everyone, that night, Oracle hears the impact the most clearly. Through his earpiece, she hears the clean snap of small bones, she hears the dull thud of a now-limp body, she hears a sharp gasp of air being forced out of lungs - all compressed into one, horrific heartbeat. She listens to rattling breaths get quieter and quieter until she can't hear them at all.

Bruce feels the impact in his throat, caught somewhere between his head and his heart. That's his boy, on the ground, but his other children are still up, still staring down the now-damned soul that had grounded their Nightwing. It takes him a moment to react, barking to Oracle to send medics to their location as he stalks towards the criminal.

Jason takes a more direct approach: a bullet through the man's skull. He doesn't have the same hold-ups as Bruce about killing, not when this man is responsible for hurting his brother. It is violence, simple and honest. It is protection, raw and vulgar.

Damian is the first to make it to Dick's side, practically leaping off the rooftop. He has learned enough, between volunteering at a hospital and what one learns when trained by Ra's al Ghul. He checks for a pulse, checks for breathing. He stabilizes Dick's neck, holding in place. His hands are small, but they do not shake, even when his muscles begin aching. He does not let them shake. Damian looks almost feral, teeth gritted and bared, silhouetted above Dick's body in off-putting streetlamp fluorescents. "No one touches him," he hisses. He only relinquishes his hold when the medics arrive. His hands curl into fists, fingernails biting into his palms

It is a quiet night in the Wayne manor that night. All of the siblings sit vigil around Dick. They all refuse to leave his side, barely moving, even when Alfred delivers pillows and blankets. Dick's face is slack and expressionless, and the sight feels like a blade to the chest. No one knows if he knows they are there.

Oracle clings to the sound of his laugh, pulling up old files. The last thing she hears from Dick will not be the sound of blood in his lungs. Jason fidgets with the shell of the bullet he put through the criminal's skull. Damian holds a medical textbook open in front of him, but he does not turn a page. His gaze is stuck on Dick's eyelids, waiting for them to move.

Here, surrounded by his family, Dick has never seemed more painfully, awfully human.

#batfam #bat family #batfamily #dick grayson #richard grayson #jason todd #bruce wayne #nightwing #batman #damian wayne #dc robin #tim drake #duke thomas #batsiblings #batman family #dc comics #nightwing angst #batfam angst

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howlingday · 1 month ago

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So, I just read two manga that I'd like to share with y'all.

The first is GACHIAKUTA, which follows a pretty standard shounen plot with a hero who's ostracized by society. See, in this world, trash is thrown away and disposed of in a giant pit. However, there are two classes of people; those of the clean aristocratic, and the filthy slum. However, there's a third that's made up of those sentenced to "death by drop," in which people who commit crimes are treated as trash and thrown into the pit, like our protagonist, Rudo. However, once down there, he learns to us powers as a "Giver" as in he "gives" life to whatever he touches. He's asked to join the Cleaners, whose job is to destroy trash monsters.

Overall, I had a fun time. This has a solid start, even with all the information thrown at once.

This next one may be disturbing to read, so reader discretion is advised.

The other is FIRE PUNCH, which is all kinds of weird. See, the story follows Agni, who is a "Blessed" who has powers blessed by God after the Ice Witch sent the world into a polar apocalypse. His power is regeneration, but his life of survival (with his incestuous sister) comes to an end when his entire village is destroyed by Doma, a Blessed with fire powers. Doma is a member of the King's army for Behembourg, which is filled with pedophilic perverts who keep slaves and force them to fulfill their sickest desires, including but not limited to: forcing people to drink pee, forcing people to have sex with animals, rape, and God only knows what other horrible acts.

Honestly, haven't felt this sick to my stomach since reading the Night Angel trilogy. Would not recommend this to the faint of heart.

#my thoughts #my review #gachimakuta #fire punch

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miraluscinia · 1 month ago

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yikes, how is it near the end of november already? i still havent made much progress with the next LIFE Team introduction since i've been busy and mostly distracted. I'm totally also NOT procrastinating NOPE! anyways...since i dont see me posting anything for the foreseeable future, have some notes i have for each of the LIFE Team before i get sucked in the pit called school again :) buckle up it's a long one...

Grian

Mind over matter, wings of steel,

The heart of a leader, the truth concealed.

Alias: The Architect

Power: Mind's Eye (Psychokinesis & Telepathy)

Status: Hero

Weapon/s: throwing daggers

Info:

leader of the L.I.F.E. Team

can shield allies' minds from mental attacks

the first official superhero to be known

was once part of the [REDACTED] but escaped

has wings but [REDACTED]

requires intense concentration to use telepathy for long periods

telepathy is difficult to use or is near ineffective against someone with strong mental defenses

the public doesn't know about his telepathy, and just think that his powers are his wings and psychokinesis

only the LIFE Team knows about his telepathy

Scar

A silver tongue, a voice that sways,

Peace before battle, in words he plays.

Alias: Vex

Power: Silver Tongue (ability to persuade/manipulate others' minds through voice)

Status: Vigilante

Weapon/s: sword disguised as a cane

Info:

powers are less effective against people who are aware of his abilities or can’t hear his voice

prefers to talk things out than fight

civilian name is Oscar “Scar” Goodwin

owner of the “Good Times Cafe”

Mumbo

Technology obeys, his will commands,

Where machines are present, his genius stands.

Alias: The Mechanic

Power: Technomancy (control, create & enhance machines/technology)

Status: Hero

Weapon/s: multi-function gauntlets

Info:

powers are useless with anything organic

can sense existing technology/machinery around him

the second official hero to be known, & Grian’s first partner

mostly stays in headquarters during missions to monitor things

can control multiple technology/machines at once, but requires intense concentration

Impulse

A snare unseen, a trap well laid,

Silent but deadly, in shadows he’s made.

Alias: Trapline

Power: Snare (create traps, either mechanical or energy-based, in immediate area)

Status: Vigilante

Weapon/s: batons & bo staff

Info:

more complex traps require more concentration to make

his bō staff and batons are made of metal that he can also trap, and are equipped with tasers

civilian name is Scott Maine

works as an automotive mechanic during the day

Pearl

Gravity bows to her lunar might,

A crescent blade, in scarlet night.

Alias: Scarlet Moon

Power: Lunar Pull (manipulate gravity of target person/object)

Status: Vigilante

Weapon/s: crescent-shaped sickles

Info:

she can use the moon's gravity to strengthen her powers at night

heavier objects are harder to lift with gravity

can use her powers to help her glide down, jump higher, or land heavier attacks

civilian name is Pearl Rivers

owns a small bookstore

Bdubs

Time bends where flowers bloom,

The clock ticks down to nature’s doom.

Alias: Timekeeper

Power: Chronoflora (manipulate time and plants in a localized area)

Status: Hero

Weapon/s: butterfly swords

Info:

he's not sure how exactly his powers work, just that it works more effectively as long as there is any kind of plant around

wears a poncho with sewn-in moss to allow his powers to work effectively

time powers is limited to small areas, and excessive use can drain him

the public only know that his powers is controlling time, but not that its effectivity is related to the amount of plants present around him

he can't really control plants, he can just speed up or slow down its decay/growth

Tango

Fire that burns, a heart ablaze,

Heat and flame, in fury’s daze.

Alias: Blaze

Power: Pyrokinesis (generate, manipulate & absorb fire and heat)

Status: Hero

Weapon/s: kusari-fundo

Info:

he is immune to fire and heat

powers are ineffective in wet or cold environments

overusing his powers can burn him out

can use his powers in bursts to fly temporarily

he can set his weapon on fire to deal more damage

Etho

Invisible steps, shadows in tow,

A silent strike, from darkness flow.

Alias: Phantom

Power: Spectre (turn invisible and create shadow clones)

Status: Vigilante

Weapon/s: kunai knives and shurikens

Info:

his shadow clones have limited movements and will disappear when touched

can make other people he touches directly, invisible

can only create around 5 clones, any more is harder

civilian name is Ethan Lowell

works as an IT Technician

Ren

Illusions dance, a show so grand,

Master of disguise, transform the land.

Alias: Maestro

Power: Theatrical Illusions (create illusions, change a person's appearance, & amplify voice)

Status: Hero

Weapon/s: rapier

Info:

making too much illusions or amplifying his voice for a long period of time can drain him

more complex illusions require more concentration

was formerly [REDACTED]

acts more of distraction/scout than actually fighting

his illusions are less effective if his target knows what to look for

he can change his voice to sound like someone else

Cleo

Strong as stone, yet swift to mend,

The walls stand firm, never to bend.

Alias: Fortress

Power: Survivalist (enhanced durability and self-regeneration)

Status: Hero

Weapon/s: battle axe

Info:

she can endure heavy damage, heal herself rapidly, and survive in hostile environments

her self-healing isn't effective on certain toxins or magic

she can't heal others

Martyn

Illusions twist, reality bends,

Truth and lies, in havoc descends.

Alias: Mirage

Power: Havoc (create realistic illusions & disrupt others' powers by confusing their minds)

Status: Vigilante

Weapon/s: bolas & twin daggers

Info:

is actually [REDACTED]

keeps his ability to disrupt powers a secret

used to be partners with Jimmy

his illusions focuses more on altering his target’s perception, making them either believe his illusions or be confused by what is real

his illusions work better on a small number of opponents (depending on the size of the illusion), any more would require intense concentration

he disrupts powers by confusing his target’s mind into losing control (he can either make the target lose control of specific aspects of the power, or the whole power in general)

civilian name is Martyn Littlewood

works as a radio host

Skizz

Blood and battle, strength reborn,

A healer’s hand, a warrior’s scorn.

Alias: Sanguine

Power: Dual Nature (heal others or gain enhanced strength and speed through bloodlust or battle intensity)

Status: Vigilante

Weapon/s: hand maces

Info:

can only do one part of his powers one at a time (can’t heal while going berserk, and vice versa)

healing ability still needs the wound/injury to be disinfected or set properly (broken bones still needs to be set before being healed, wounds needs to be disinfected before healing closes and mends it)

healing ability can only heal physical wounds and injuries, but can't heal or deal with pain, headaches, effects of blood loss, etc.

civilian name is Alex Skizzle

works as a store manager

Joel

Wolves that hunt, a leader’s call,

Strength in the pack, yet prone to fall.

Alias: Fenrir

Power: Pack Leader (create spectral wolves & gain enhanced speed and strength the more wolves are present)

Status: Vigilante

Weapon/s: pair of katars

Info:

was formerly a hero but left due to feeling constricted in what he can do

prefers to work alone

the more wolves are present, the more fragile and transparent they are (numerous wolves are only used for distraction or scouting, while fewer more solid looking wolves are used for attacks)

is married to Lizzie

civilian name is Joel Bran

works as an exterior designer

Scott

Stars align, energy pure,

A shield, a blade, a step so sure.

Alias: Starstrike

Power: Astral Wave (create energy blasts, shields, or constructs)

Status: Hero

Weapon/s: pair of chakrams

Info:

mostly acts as support, but can hold his own in a fight

has a habit of flirting with Martyn as their own way of banter (but they don't mean anything from it)

mostly sticks with Jimmy when the latter is out in the field with him

Jimmy

Songs of warning, visions unclear,

The first to fall when danger is near.

Alias: The Canary

Power: Premonition (see visions of danger ahead of time, & telepathic communication)

Status: Hero

Weapon/s: sword & collapsible shield

Info:

visions are not always clear, and can sometimes distract him if focused on too much

was formerly a vigilante but became a hero to help out more

BigB

A rumble deep, the ground obeys,

The earth itself moves to his ways.

Alias: Quake

Power: Terrashifter (manipulate & travel through earth and stone)

Status: Hero

Weapon/s: warhammer

Info:

powers are useless in areas with no earth or stone

can sense movement through vibrations when concentrated on

Gem

In roots and leaves, life she finds,

Nature’s strength in her entwines.

Alias: Flora

Power: Nature's Gift (connect with, and control over plants)

Status: Hero

Weapon/s: flail

Info:

powers are weak in barren environments and against fire

she can connect with plants to enhance her senses

she can’t heal herself nor others

powers are useless when there are no plants around

Lizzie

In darkness she dwells with deadly grace,

A hidden blade in shadow’s embrace.

Alias: Nightshade

Power: Shadowborn (manipulate, control & travel through shadows)

Status: Hero

Weapon/s: pair of kusarigamas

Info:

powers are useless in areas with no shadows

she can use her powers to melt into shadows and reappear in another shadow (the shadow size will have to fit her for this to be accomplished)

she can't turn invisible, she just covers herself with shadows

is married to Joel

Additional notes:

only the vigilantes have civilian names for now... idk yet if I'll give the heroes one or not since I don't think it's gonna be important to the actual story

the redacted parts are actual info I plan to reveal in the story, but I think you can guess some of it already

also, i haven't fleshed out most of the characters yet, that's why most have fewer information

I tried to balance out each power so no one is too overpowered

I had a hard time differentiating and explaining Ren and Martyn's powers, so if you're still confused, feel free to ask

I might come back and add onto this if I think of more

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