#he. will. make. every. fucking. thing. worse.

[cinnamorollcrybaby]

BEG!

Tags: Satoru x fem!Reader, nocurse!au, misogynistic!gojo, college!au, reader puts him in his place, CRACK do not take this fic seriously, enemies to lovers, suggestive, mdni

Synopsis: Satoru is a stupid alpha bro who’s misogynistic and a play boy in a fraternity at your college. He learns that he can’t walk all over you, and that turns him on.

An: Thank you to everyone who commented on that post and encouraged me to write this! I didn’t think you guys would eat it up like you did 😅 I thought this would be a smutty one-off, but I actually wanted to try and make it into something a little more meaningful; hence why it took a bit longer to post. This is only part one :)

The party. |

His house screamed wealth and overconsumption at every corner. Money was obviously frivolously spent with building and furnishing the Gojo fraternity house. It was sleek, modern, but still a devastating bachelor’s pad.

The Gojo fraternity held parties every day of the weekend, including Sunday. Women got in for free, and men had to pay 5 dollars to get in. Not that Satoru needed the money — he was disgustingly wealthy and a trust fund baby. He merely charged guys money that way no one below his standard could just waltz into his frat house.

Of course, he truly believed every other man in the frat house was below him in some way. He had the full package: smart, funny, rich, handsome, a dick that should be registered as a legal weapon.

It was no wonder that women was never an issue for him. He found flirting with them to be like child’s play. It’s just too fucking easy…. pun intended. He and Suguru once had a challenge to see who could pick up the most women in a single night. Satoru ended his night after fucking 9 women in a single night, and one of those events was actually a foursome between him and three girls at once.

Honestly, he could be so much worse. With a witty personality and a mouth that just won’t shut up, he could talk his way into or out of anything.

It’s a Sunday night, which usually isn’t a big turn out for the party at his house since everyone has class the next morning. Plus, all homework is due at 11:59pm on Sundays. But this turn out was just embarrassing, there was merely 10 people all sat in his living room.

Suguru already had a girl in his lap. Everyone was giggling about something. Satoru felt like he had a chip on his shoulder, he wasn’t the center of attention right now, so he had to fix that.

Plus, there was a pretty girl in the room who he wanted to impress.

Sitting down in front of you, Satoru grins and hands you a cup undoubtedly of liquor. “Here you go, sweetness. Have one more.” He encourages, knowing that it’d be easier to chat you up if you’re a little buzzed.

“Oh, thanks.” You smile politely, and you fake taking a drink out of it. You’ve heard the stories about Satoru, and there’s just no way in hell you’re drinking something he gives you.

“What are you all talking about?” Satoru asks with a casual grin, and he takes a sip of his own drink.

“Oh, just how dumb Andrew Tate is.” A nobody responds from within the group.

“What? He’s not dumb…” Satoru nearly pouts as his favorite starboy was being harshly criticized by his friends.

“Oh god, don’t tell me you like him.” You say with disgusted look on your face as you eye Satoru. Now, you’re definitely not drinking whatever he just gave you.

Satoru’s face twists in defense as you so boldly speak up about his interests. It’s clear to you that he’s offended, but he’s trying not to make a big deal out of it.

“Why? What do you think is so bad about him?” He retorts as he cocks an eyebrow, leaning back in his seat to try to appear as confident and collected as possible.

“How about how he treats women like shit?” You ask, raising your own eyebrow. Satoru has another thing coming if he thinks you’re just going to bow down and not argue with him because he’s rich.

“He doesn’t treat women like shit-? Where are you getting your facts from?” Satoru argues, and his jaw tightens a minuscule amount. It’s bad enough that he’s being challenged, but he’s being challenged by a woman.

“His literal interviews, and the video of him literally beating a woman?”

“That video was just a sex act without any context.” He dismisses, rolling his eyes and not dispelling any claims about the interviews.

“Bitch, is that what sex sounds like to you? Because you must not be doing it right if she sounds like that.”The room erupts into laughter, and Satoru’s face only makes it better. His pale skin is becoming a little flushed. His eyebrow is twitching slightly with anger.

He takes a breath before quickly recovering. He hasn’t forgotten his objective tonight is to sleep with you. His signature smile returns to his face, and he leans in slightly. “I don’t know. Why don’t you come teach me how to do it right?”

“As if. I’d rather grind my pussy against a cheese grater than fuck an Andrew Tate fan.” More laughter breaks out amongst the small group of people.

Satoru’s jaw drops as he looks at you with disbelief. You’d rather… grate your cunt than sleep with him? “Oh yeah? So, what kind of guy piques your interest then, princess? You probably like those woke emasculated guys. Suguru might be more up your alley.”

“Hey, what the fuck?” Suguru laughs, chunking an empty beer can at Satoru’s head. The girl in Suguru’s lap continues to mindlessly giggle and play with his hair.

“No, I like men who are calm and capable. Maybe a guy who can lead but also knows when to take the backseat.” You explain, eyes wandering over Satoru’s stature. “I like them funny and kind.”

“See? I’m just what you need, princess. I can do all those things and so much more.”

“Yeah? You’re going to take the backseat sometimes?” You challenge with a knowing smile on your face. You already know what type of guy Satoru is based off of this sole interaction — plus all of the horror stories of how he’s a modern-day Casanova.

“Princess, the only time you’ll need me to take a backseat is when you’re riding that pretty pussy against my face.” His cerulean eyes gleam against the LEDs in the room. He’s fully confident that will win you over.

Your face stays completely flat. You don’t even crack a small pity smile for him. “Oh sorry, was this meant to be the part where you’re funny?”

Satoru looks at you, and you see a small twitch in his eye. He’s never had someone match his wit or his sass before. You were the perfect challenge for him — his perfect match up.

He tips his red solo cup up until his finishes the rest of his drink. Fuck sleeping with you. He wants to make you beg for him to fuck you while he just laughs in disinterest. You’re his mission now.

“You’re cute, princess.” He finally comments before getting comfortable in his chair again. “You don’t have to act like you don’t want me. ‘s okay. No one here will blame you.”

Your arms cross over your chest, and your lips curl into a frown. As much as you want to pretend to be unbothered, your face can help but show the irritation you feel from him. He’s unwavering, thinking that he will just argue and flirt his way to winning you over.

He needs to be humbled real quick, and you’ve got nothing else better to do.

“Oh really? Thank god. I’ve been dying to get on my knees and suck the most mediocre dick of my life.”

“You have the wrong guy, sweetness. I’m anything but mediocre.” He retorts without missing a beat.

By this time, most of everyone has stopped paying attention to you two — used to Satoru’s antics by now. This is just another Sunday night for him — chasing pussy as per usual.

“Yeah? Any guy who constantly boasts about how good they are in bed usually isn’t good at all.” You respond with a small eye roll.

Satoru’s strong arms cross over his chest. He’s wearing a simple white shirt with some black pants. It’s overwhelming plain, but it compliments him so well since his appearance is striking enough as it is. “I never boasted, princess. I simply stated that I wasn’t mediocre.”

You let out a small scoff and shake your head. It was honestly arguing with a brick wall. “Semantics. Either way, I don’t want to fuck you.” You dump your liquor out into a potted plant that’s next to the couch.

Wondering why you even decided to come to this stupid party, you stand up, and Satoru follows suit. “Hey now, darling. Come on. Don’t leave now. The night’s still young.” He tries to smooth things over as he takes puts his hands up in surrender. “I promise I won’t call out the obvious sexual tension between us for the rest of the night.”

“I have more sexual tension with your fake houseplant that I dumped my liquor into.” You deadpan, gathering your things as you decide that a cozy night in would be better than this mess.

Walking outside the house after everyone wishes you goodbye, you let out an audible sigh as you hear the door open and shut once more behind you. You spin on your heel to find Satoru jogging up behind you.

“Did I ruin your mood that much?” He asks with a small smile, shoving his hands into his pockets as he falls in step beside you.

“Well, following me home is certainly not giving you any bonus points.” You retort, tugging your jacket a little bit closer to your body. “Besides, that’s not really my scene.”

Satoru glances over at you as the two of you walk. He finds himself hypnotized in the way your skin glows in the moonlight. He would be lying if he tried to convince himself that you weren’t pretty because you are. Gorgeous — in fact.

“Really?” His voice is a shade softer now that he doesn’t have everyone’s eyes on him. “You seemed like a natural in there.”

You shrug your shoulders, not offering up any more information about yourself to him. He’s just another misguided frat boy with no intentions to change who’s looking to hit.

Satoru hates silence almost as much as he hates not being the center of attention. He hates how you’re not giving in even the slightest for him

“We should go out to dinner together sometime. I think you’d be surprised on how well I can fit in to any scene.” He offers, not quite giving up on hope just yet. He’s determined to get you in his bed, genuinely deluding himself that it would be a favor to you and him.

“No thanks.” Your voice is blunt as you step toward the entrance of a girls’ dormitories. Satoru’s technically not allowed inside at this late of an hour, but he’d be amused to see who would try and stop him. His family is the top donor of the university. He practically owns this place.

He stands there baffled for a moment as you turn down his date invitation. Rejecting his sexual advances is one thing, but you won’t even give him the time of day.

“So, when can I see you?” He asks, eyebrows furrowed and lips curled into a small pout.

“You’ll unfortunately probably see me in class.” You respond, letting the door close behind you and checking to make sure it locked. Breathing a sigh of relief, you trudge your way up the steps to finally get away from that leech of a man.

Satoru stays at the door for a moment, contemplating following you inside — not for any nefarious reason. He just truly believes that you’d like him if you gave him the time of day. One of his many charming qualities is that he can talk anyone into enjoying his presence.

He had already made up his mind. You’re going to like him. You’re going to sleep with him too and like it, and he’s definitely not going to catch feelings for you so he can make you feel as embarrassed as he did tonight.

He’ll just have to set his plan in motion during class.

[onlinedolly]

SAVIOR COMPLEX

au where leon is a normal cop at raccoon city and you’re a pretty little thing he’s obsessed with ^___^

cw: stalking, kidnapping, drug use, dubcon, dry humping (?), hard language, dead dove do not eat, i think that’s it!

not proof read cuz i’m lazy lol

Leon, in his mind, was a good man.

He’d done a lot in his career, saved countless lives; so when he sees you he thinks it’s no different, not really. You were a young thing, pretty and too naive for your own good. Didn’t you know the world now? How cruel it could be? It made Leon sick to think about it, he’d only seen you once — pretty and smiling and all he could think was how the world was going to fuck you up eventually.

He began watching you then, like a good man does. Following you to your small apartment complex (on a side of town that put a sour taste in his mouth) every night, watching you from your window until you fell asleep, it was all precautionary really, he told himself. Had to make sure you were safe. That nothing bad would ever happen.

It’d been this way for a few weeks, maybe around a month or so until he witnessed the incident that really made his blood boil over. A man, taller and creepy, had been following you around the store for a while now, looking for his way in. Leon definitely couldn’t interject, not now, not when you didn’t know him, bound to just make the situation worse. So he watched, clenching the cart he had in his hand so tightly his knuckles turned white.

He almost interjected when he saw the man put his hand on your waist, watching as you cowered away as he grabbed something for you on a higher self. You poor, sweet thing, so naive and stupid. Leon decided then he had to do whatever it would take to help you. That’s what it was really, helping.

Leon was a good man.

-

It was harder than he originally thought taking you, you had a lively group of friends and supportive parents he would no doubt have to figure his way around. But, oh how the heavens must of listened to his prayers when he’d seen you (followed you for more than two hours) stumbling out of a bar drunk and alone.

It was divine timing really, Leon thought to himself. You were stumbling around to a back alley, fiddling with your phone in an attempt to order a ride share to pick you up, no doubt. How stupid were you really, Leon thought. Drunk and alone and ordering a car from a stranger to make sure you got home safe? You really truly knew no better, huh? What if you got hurt, kidnapped, assaulted?

Leon made it his mission all those weeks ago to protect you, help you at any cost, so when he sneaks up behind you placing the rag over your mouth until your body goes limp he’s simply doing it out of protection, out of love.

When he drags your limp body into his car, making sure no one saw, all he can think is how much better off you were in his arms. He was a cop after all, right?

Leon was a good man, he truly honestly believed that.

-

“You’re home now,” He’d explained when you came to in Leon’s apartment. You were scared, huddled in the corner of your pretty pink room ( which Leon had spent a lot of time on in decorating), and Leon really was trying his best to make you comfortable.

He sauntered over to you, and you couldn’t help but notice how he looked like he was a predator stalking his prey, leaning down and reaching his hand out to you in a kind gesture you hadn’t expected, “Let’s talk on the bed, why don’t we baby?” He spoke softly, kindly.

You were still frightened as hell, way too frightened to resist him, so with shaky fingers and sweaty palms you grasped his much bigger one and let him help you up. Leon moved you two to the bed, it was soft and had a pink floral bedspread, and sat closer to you than you wanted.

You had some strength, and you were confused and nervous, “Why?” stumbled out of your lips, hoarse and soft.

Leon nodded his head, “I knew you’d ask that, that’s okay—“ He leans up, brushes some hair off your forehead causing you to flinch, “— I wouldn’t expect you to understand at first, any how.” He spoke like he knew you, how long had he been watching you? Days? Months?

“I saved you.” He spoke matter of factly, it sent a chill down your spine. Saved you? From what?

“I-I don’t need saving,” You found courage to speak, still soft, still so hoarse, “I think you have the wrong p-person I-“

Leon’s jaw clinched as you cut yourself off. Of course you did, Leon’s not fucking stupid. Are you really so goddamn dumb to not realize how scary the world is? What it can do to sweet little things like you? But no, of course you didn’t know that, how could he expect you to? He pushed the rising anger down, Leon was a good man and really only got angry sometimes and he was going to control it if it meant making you like him. Getting you to love him.

“Pretty thing,” He spoke, moving closer to you so your knees knocked together, “I don’t expect you to understand.”

-

Despite everything, you just weren’t seeming to adjust to your new surroundings. Leon had saved you a little over a week ago, and despite trying to make you as comfortable as possible you still just seemed to want to leave.

After your first conversation Leon tried and tried to interact with you, form a relationship with you. He brought you three meals a day, each time watching you struggle to find a new way to escape. First it was the sealed window, the lock picking of the dead bolted doors, even trying to attack him like Leon can’t over power you in seconds. He couldn’t figure out why he couldn’t get you comfortable here.

Why couldn’t you see everything he was doing was for you? You can’t escape, not when the world is just going to eventually eat you up and leave you as broken as him. He was doing the right thing, keeping you here, why couldn’t you see that?

After another week of escape attempts and dry conversations over take out he had gotten you, you finally let up a bit. More open, more willing, the conversation was still dry but at least you weren’t trying to escape anymore.

“Sweet girl,” He spoke kindly,like he always did, as he entered with a tray of food. “I brought your food.” He entered the room, locking the various locks behind him as he sat on your bed. Leon had been nothing but kind in the past two weeks you’ve been here. It made you confused how someone who could so viciously take you was so kind hearted. You walked over to the bed, inspecting the food.

“You didn’t put anything in it, did you?” You asked, just like you always asked.

“Would that make you easier to manage, pretty thing?” He joked. It wasn’t funny, instead it made you feel sick how he could even joke about a topic like that. “No,” He reassured after seeing your fast twist up, “I didn’t put anything in it.” He leaned down, taking a bite of the food to show you it wasn’t contaminated, and only then did you feel safe enough to bring the fork to your lips.

Leon watched you eat for a few moments before speaking, “I was working today—“ He loved these stories, you thought, the ones that make the world seem bad. “— And we got a call. A guy shot his girlfriend. Can you believe that?” He moved to place his palm on your head, smiling at you bright and kind, “Thank god you’re here, right? Not with a sick bastard that could hurt you.”

You could almost laugh, did he not see who he was? A sick bastard in his own right, twisted and fucked up, just kind about it. You simply nodded, it was easier to give in, easier to please him. “Right.” You spoke softly.

-

It was another two weeks and you, embarrassingly so, had gotten more comfortable here. Sleep came more easy to you and Leon was slowly becoming a more comforting presence in your life.

He brought you food, just like always, telling you about his latest work story as you sipped your water. Unfortunately, the stories were starting to scare you, make your hair stand on end as he tells you about a man who murdered his family.

“Make sure to drink it all,” Leon dotes on you, tapping your glass with a big finger, “Need my pretty girl hydrated, hm?” You nod sweetly, just like you’ve been doing the past couple weeks and drink it all in three big gulps.

And okay, Leon was a good man!!! But he wasn’t always honest. He hadn’t been feeding you drugs, but that didn’t mean you weren’t taking them. He’d put them in your drink, mix them up until they were dissolved and make sure you drink it all. It wasn’t anything bad, what he gave you just made you a little sleepy and maybe a little more pliable to what he wanted from you. It didn’t hurt and he wouldn’t keep you out his stuff forever, just until you were ready to be weened off. When you were ready to love him back sober.

When your meal was done and he could tell you were feeling hazy, he leaned down like he always did and placed a soft kiss to your forehead mumbling what a good job you did for him. And you couldn’t help but admit how it made you feel, giddy and comforted.

Leon really wasn’t an awful guy, you caught yourself thinking as he exited the room. He fed you sufficiently, gave you the best clothes and softest towels to shower with, and he really wasn’t that terrible of company. Another 10 or so minutes passed and you were exhausted, falling into a slumber full of Leon.

-

You’d been here two months now, Leon kept you more drugged up than sober these days, but it made you so kind and needy. That’s right he said needy. A couple weeks ago your demeanor began to change, excitement filling you when he’d enter the room, telling him how much you’d missed him while away. He could get used to this.

He’d come to visit you before bed, you were in a pink pretty night gown with your hair in two messy braids when he’d came into the room.

“Leon,” You smiled softly at him, big doe eyes focused on the man by the door way.

“Hi sweetheart,” He spoke, locking the door and walking over to your bed to sit next to you, “Have a fun day, hm?” He pet your hair, giddy in the way that you lean into it.

“Had a good day, watched movies.” Ah yeah, Leon had gotten you a small box tv and some dvds from a resale shop, he was glad you were enjoying those.

“Good, good girl,” He spoke, not missing the way you purred hazily at the nickname, “Little girls deserve to have fun, yeah?”

You nodded at him happily, leaning more into his touch. You’d been such a good girl these past couple weeks, he pressed a kiss to your cheek and he felt how warm you got underneath his touch.

You were so affectionate tonight, would he test the waters more? See what else he could get away with?

“Baby, could we do something different tonight?”

“Different…how?” You spoke softly, flinching a little out of fear. Ah, he expected that to still be there. The thought of something new in this situation was bound to be scary.

“You’ll enjoy yourself angel,” He promised, pressing another sweet kiss to your cheek. He moved so he was laid on the bed next to you, sitting up with his head against the headboard. “Why don’t you give me a kiss first, hm?”

Leon had gotten you to kiss him a couple days prior, you’d been so nervous and fumbling when he’d held your head with his big hands explaining that he deserved a kiss for everything he’d done for you. He was too mean to be the one to kiss you first, waiting for you to stand on you tippy toes and place your lips against his. After a few minutes he’d grown impatient until you did just that, a small peck and turned into a heated session that had you panting into his mouth.

And now you loved kissing him, all hazy and dumb as you would beg him for goodbye kisses everytime he left you. So asking you for a kiss now was nothing out of the ordinary, and it wasnt out of the ordinary for you to climb into his lap and kiss him sloppily and sweet just like you were doing now.

And Leon *loved* it, the patience, the drugging, the kind sweet words was all worth it to lead to moments like this. With you licking at his bottom lip messily until he opened up to shove his tongue down your throat.

He was so happy it wasn’t some punk ass guy doing this to you, a man you didn’t deserve. It had to be him, he was everything you needed. He tested the waters, moving his hands to grip at your waist, he felt you jump beneath him, flinching at the new action. He pulled away smiling at you kindly,

“I told you something new, baby. You gotta trust me,” He gripped your hips tighter, feeling how you shook under him. It was exhilarating having you like this, inexperienced and scared under his touch.

“L-Leon,” You stuttered out, readjusting in his hold, making him groan out softly.

“Be patient, sweet thing.” He demanded, moving you around his lap, releasing another low groan from him.

You could feel something hard under you, hard and big. You gasp, trying to lift yourself off of him and he pushes you back down. “We’re gunna have s’much fun together, ain’t we sweet thing?” He slurred out until he found a good position for you to be in. Leaning his head against the headboard. “Gunna move your hips yeah? Be real weird at first, ‘kay baby? But I’ll make you feel real good sweet girl.” He spoke, leaning up to kiss the shell of your ear.

You’d gotten to the point where it was hard to refuse him, out of fear? Maybe. Or maybe it was something more. So you just nod eagerly, overwhelmed tears filling up your eyes as you wait for his instruction or his motion.

He begins rocking your hips against what you assume is his cock, you gasp softly, the feeling new and foreign to you.

Leon lets out a deep groan, he was loving this. He couldn’t believe he was here with you like this, rocking against his cock. He grips your hips harder, picking up the pace as your clothes cunt rubs against his cock. “God, aren’t you glad I took you, hm?” He’s rambling as you gasp and whine and cry under his hold, “If you’d done this with anyone else baby, I would’ve had to kill them, yeah? Aren’t you glad I rescued you.”

“Y-yeah,” You whine out, over come with this new feeling. The only things separating your cunt and his hard cock was your think panties and his rough pajama pants that rubbed deliciously against your pussy. You’re crying, overwhelmed by the feeling, lashes wet and tears dripping onto Leon’s cheeks (not that he gave a fuck), you move your hands up, shakily wiping the wet from his face as he moves you all at a fast pace.

“Enjoying yourself little girl? Yeah?”

“Uh-huh,” You hiccup, hazy and high, “T-thank you..” You whisper out.

“Dirty thing,” He groans out, moving you faster against his cock. He could only imagine what it’d be like to finally sink himself inside of you. He knows for a fact how wet you’d be, how he’d have to work you on his fingers before you take his big dick. The thought could make him cum in his pants.

“L-Leon I feel funny I…” You trail off, gripping his shirt in your smaller hands. He was so muscular it was almost breath taking.

“Yeah sweet girl I bet you do,” He laughed softly, trailing one of his hands down to press against your panty clad clit. You yelped softly, letting out multiple soft moans at the new sensation.

Your body was on fire, lit from the inside out as you gave up and indulged yourself in this new feeling. Your cunt was soaked leaving a dark stain on Leon’s pajamas as he roughly rocked you back and forth.

“God, fuck you’re such a good girl,” Leon grunts out, he was close, with the dry humping and the thoughts of fucking your sloppy cunt until you couldn’t think no more, he was ready to fucking explode. after a few more minutes he’s soaking himself, his pajamas a dark stained mess as he cums all over himself and your pretty panties. He makes a noise that’s almost like a growl as he grips your hip in a bruising hold.

You yelp out at the pain as he is circling your clit in a rough fast pace, you felt like you had to pee, the build up inside of you getting stronger and stronger as he mumbles sweet praises and tells you how he saved you over and over again, rubbing your clit in fast circles.

Finally the coil inside of you snaps as you yell out, a sobbing mess as you twitch and convulse and rut yourself against his big hand. Leon could cum again almost looking at you fuck your wet cunt against his hand.

You were overwhelmed but you couldn’t stop, you were shaking and sobbing at this point as you fuck yourself fast and hard against his hand.

“Baby let’s stop, yeah?” He spoke, pressing his hands on your tummy and back and slowing you to a stop, kissing you on your cheek as he stares at your blissed out face.

Leon Kennedy was a good man, Leon was your savior.

[kaciidubs]

Gentle | Monstober Mini Fic

We won't talk about how late I am to everything currently, yeah?

✧ Summary: In which you get to finally indulge in your Orc boyfriend, even if it's just the tip of the iceberg. ✧  ✧ Word Count: 1.7k ✧ Warnings: Monster fucking, Orc! Chris, smut, fluff, slight size kink, slight humor ✧  ✧ Female! Reader [No use of Y/N] | You/Your pronouns ✧  ✧ Additional Tags: Chan is referred to as Chris, Channie, Baby, Reader is referred to as Pretty, Pretty Human, Human, slightly edited [I finished this at 3:40am] ✧ Stray Kids Masterlist ✧ General Masterlist

“Alright, Channie,” you spoke softly, your fingers tugging at the smooth ribbon of your sheer robe, “gentle.”

“Gentle.”

Your heart warmed at the way he parroted your advisory – a softness that was a stark contrast to his otherwise rugged features. 

Anyone in your position would've been fairly scared out of their minds, but you were far from it - this was liberating, exhilarating even. 

An orc and a human - your orc, the man you promised to remain by no matter the difficulties and stigma. 

This type of pairing wasn’t rare per se, but it was certainly less explored due to various... differences, to say the least; if not for the way he completely dwarfed you in sheer height and mass, then for the way he could lift a couch with one hand as if it were as light as a feather. 

Contrasts, like in the way his hand could easily cover your entire face while yours could barely cover the expanse of the line of his jaw to his upper cheekbone.

However, those differences only proved to fuel your desire for him more, and your sentiments were reflected tenfold – that much you were extremely positive about.

“Slowly.” Chris affirmed, the huskiness of his tone spurring goosebumps along your skin.

Nodding, you let the robe slip from your shoulders and fall to your arms, fighting back a smirk as his eyes flicked to the exposed skin. “Slowly – and if you want to stop, we’ll stop.”

His heated gaze met your own sultry stare, a knee-buckling grin accenting his gorgeous tusks. “If you want to stop, we’ll stop.”

Cementing the verbal agreement, you dropped your arms and let the robe flutter to the hardwood floor without a sound, leaving you bare and open to his viewing pleasure.

“Pretty.” Came a breathless sigh, and you weren’t sure if he truly meant to say it out loud as he regarded you with the same look of awe as one would to a radiant sunset.

You stepped away from the pool of fabric and sauntered your way toward the bed, climbing onto the plush mattress before finally making your first form of contact with him ever since you’d entered the room; hooking your leg over his waist and sitting pretty against his abdomen. 

“Hi.” Resting your hands against his chest, you reveled in the warmth that radiated off of his body before a small smirk grew on your lips, “Come here often?”

A strong huff shook your body against his as he rolled his eyes, though his amused smirk didn’t go unnoticed as a large hand trailed along your side before cupping your cheek. “Quiet, come.”

Obliging his request, you allowed yourself to be dragged down into a slow kiss, ever mindful of the tusks that grazed the corners of your lips.

Slow and steady only seemed to last as long as each breath that passed between the two of you - short and waning, while whatever semblance of control began to chip away with every subconscious grind of your hips against his lower stomach. Your desperation was only made worse when you felt the pressure of his tip meet the curve of your ass on one particularly long drag; the large head twitching slightly and the fabric of his boxers slightly damp.

“Channie?” You breathed against his lips, pulling away just enough to meet his eyes, your unspoken question translating perfectly with the heat of desire burning within your irises.

He took you in for a moment, eyes jumping between your own and your lips, “Okay.”

That was the last thing you remember properly registering before you found yourself grinding against his cock like a bitch in heat; your brain short circuiting the minute your pussy nestled against the wonderful veins that decorated his length like a textured map. It was heaven - at least, as close to heaven you would be getting as your aching cunt still felt empty, yearning for the final piece of your lover that was so close but still so far away.

“Fuck- ‘M not going anywhere, pretty.” Chris huffed, grunting at the way your nails pressed a little harder into his chest, yet it still wasn’t enough to break skin. “Take your time-”

“Christopher,” you all but whined, pinning him with a look that made his dick throb underneath you, “we take our time when you eat me out, we take our time when you finger me - right now I need you as fast as I can, as hard as I can. Can you please just give it to me like I want?”

Sliding your hips up, your body shivered as the large head of his dick slid through your folds, the smooth skin a welcome sensation against your sensitive clit yet an agonizing reminder of what you’re unable to partake in full.

“Come on, take care of me the way only you can, baby.”

The way only he could - even if it wasn’t to the extent you deserved, you still ached for him, and what type of Orc would he be if he continued to deny his little human what she wanted?

You could sense a shift in the air, a change that caused a spark of electricity to shoot down your spine, but before you could say anything your body jolted forward from a cant of his hips; a fiery glint flashing in his lidded eyes.

“Don’t know if I should call you needy, or greedy,” he murmured, large hands coming to rest on either side of your waist, “always ready for more no matter the limits.” He took the initiative in guiding your hips up the underside of his cock, using you like a toy as his tip bumped against your clit, “Pretty human, can’t get enough of what’s already too much to handle normally - I wonder who spoiled her?”

A short whimper escaped you as his own hips rocked forward, dragging his veiny cock back through your folds in a pace reminiscent of intermittent, languid thrusts.

“Who did this to you, pretty? Hm? Who made you this greedy?”

His goading tone made your pussy throb, clipped gasps tumbling from your lips while you endured the ride he controlled.

“Answer me, human.” He snarled, eyebrows pinching as his intense gaze kept your eyes locked on his own.

“Y-You…” The timidness was foreign to your ears, this new side of your lover completely new to your psyche. “You, Chris.”

A deep rumble reverberated within his chest, a lowly chuckle as his lips curled into a cocky smirk, “Me? No - see, I only give you what I think you can handle, it couldn’t be me.”

Your hands gripped his shoulders, nails pressing into his skin, “Chris-”

“I’ve only given you enough to keep you satisfied, enough to make sure that your needs were well taken care of,” his faux thrusts grew quicker, slicker with the mixture of precum and arousal that glistened along his dick, “maybe that’s what made you start thinking you could take more - crave more, is that it? Did I ruin my pretty little human?”

“Y-Yes!” Dropping your head forward, you swallowed thickly as your legs twitched at his sides, the stimulation conquering you in ways you’d never felt before. “You ruined me, Channie - C-Can’t even think about going back to a-another human, it wouldn’t be enough.”

His hands flexed, body shuddering with a deep breath as he tried his best to conceal the pride that swelled within him. “Another human, hm? What about another Orc?”

You shook your head vehemently, “No- God, no, it’s only you!”

“Eyes up, pretty.”

Lifting your head, you met his sultry gaze with pleasure glazed eyes.

“Say it again.”

“I-It-” A broken moan tumbled from your lips, your orgasm just on the horizon, “It’s only you - I only want you!”

His eyelids fluttered, hips bucking just a bit harder, “F-Fuck, good girl.”

“I-I’m close, Channie,” you whimpered, your body working overtime to try to overpower his grip on you to garner a fraction of more stimulation, “I’m so close, baby.”

“Go on, pretty - come for me, show me how gorgeous you’d look coming on my cock.”

Your stomach clenched hard enough to make you double over, though his hands kept you steady as your walls fluttered and throbbed, choked breaths shaking your body all the while.

Chris grunted, clenching his jaw as he slid his hips back just enough to nestle his tip against your spasming cunt, daring to press it harder against your entrance in wishful desires of feeling more of your warmth - his eyes fluttering shut as his mind ran wild.

“C-Chris?”

“So close…” He breathed, hips twitching as his conscience fought against his reality. “Y-You’re not the only one ruined, pretty,” his hips continued to rock up, fucking you with the only part of his cock that could remotely fit, “what I wouldn’t give to be inside of you, to feel you fully - my pretty human.”

“Inside…” You parroted breathlessly, one hand sliding to his chest while the other ventured up to tangle in his mussed curls, “To feel me… To come in me…”

His hands squeezed your sides, trembling slightly as he shook his head, “D-Don't.”

“Can you? Like this? Just this once?” You rolled your hips back, wiggling against his tip, “Please, baby - show me how gorgeous you’d look coming inside of me.”

“F-Fuck, fuck, fuck-”

You felt his cock twitch, his hips bucking up until a loud moan flew past his lips.

The sensation was new, different yet welcomed all the same; the warmth of his seed flooding against your cunt before excessively dripping toward your clit and creating a puddle on his lower stomach.

Your body attempted to press back further but you were stopped by his vice grip, pulling you away so the last wave of his orgasm could paint a few lines up his stomach.

A whine of protest floated through you, “Channie!”

“Pretty,” he deadpanned, blinking hard before opening his eyes to look at you with a raised eyebrow, “you’re getting too greedy now.”

“It’s your fault for being so irresistible.” Huffing out a light laugh, a shiver ran down your spine as you felt some of his cum subsequently drip out of you.

Humming in faux agreement, he nodded, “Well, let’s go get cleaned up and you can tell me all the ways me being irresistible turns you into an insatiable beast.”

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[kiss-me-muchoo]

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐧 𝐟𝐫𝐮𝐢𝐭 || 𝐌𝐚𝐫𝐜𝐮𝐬 𝐀𝐜𝐚𝐜𝐢𝐮𝐬 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐱 𝐋𝐮𝐜𝐢𝐮𝐬 𝐕𝐞𝐫𝐮𝐬

summary_ having an affair with General Acacius overseas while conquering lands turned into a problem after coming back to Rome, when you fell for a gladiator that turned out to be a missing prince.

warnings_ CRINGE, girthy age gap (legal) (I’m 20, sorry) historical inaccuracy, angst, violence, gore, animal death, sexism and misogyny, fluff but angst, a lot of canon divergence bc I said so. NO PROOFREAD, BEWARE!

note_ i can’t remember if Denzel’s character was named Macrino, I can’t remember which year the movie is set in, I can’t remember many things but let me know if I fucked up too much. And listen to fallen fruit from Lorde while reading.

♪ ♫ Pedro playlist | ✰ Index (+ fics here)

𖦹°⭒˚｡⋆ 𓆇𓆸⋆｡𖦹°⭒˚｡⋆ 𓆇𓆸⋆｡𖦹°⭒˚｡⋆ 𓆇𓆸

The sea was a free land. Nobody could conquer it because there wasn’t anything valuable floating around. Perhaps at the bottom of the ocean, a treasure may lay, but no man had shown the desire to dive into the deep.

The screams of the innocents are loud enough to make you feel empathy for them. But Acacius had trained you to put a mask of neutrality when leading war.

Loving the most effective soldier of Rome was your little secret. He married the daughter of an old emperor and he fought to get her privileges and prevent her from danger.

Always the insane little girl running around the palace, rambling about plants, the stars, a dream of Rome in flames. It was enough to be secretly sent to a scribe's university in Egypt for some time.

Upon your return, not much had changed, only that your father, once lead of the council, then the wise of Rome had died. Consequently, your evil stepbrothers were crowned emperors. They named you a soldier and made sure you were at every battlefront, hoping for your death.

But your general trained you well, and with months of practice, you ended up tangled up with him on his sheets in Greece.

Adultery was considered a crime in Rome and you’d give the perfect reason to your brothers to burn you like a witch. Or worse, to send you to fight at the arena of the Colosseum.

But the people who accompanied you and Acacius overseas were loyal and couldn’t care less if you had an older man fucking you each night. They only cared about you being a good soldier on the battlefront and being a good princess in Rome.

With a couple of hours left to be home again, you had your wounds checked. Conquering Numidia was one of the last African cities to be marked by the Romans and your brothers desperately wanted to own it. Only a few burns scattered across your leg and your shoulder needed stitches were the price to pay.

The wooden floor creaked and the general turned around alert but as soon as he saw you, he seemed to calm down.

Your arms wrapped around him and he immediately had to lean and kiss you. His lips tasted like devotion, peace, and lust. Acacius always grabbed your hips first. Then he moved to your waist, only to end up caressing your cheeks as his lips kept marking you his.

“What did the doctor say?” asked Acacius as he gasped for air.

“Nothing to worry about…” You nodded at him and he turned his back to you again, looking at his open windows, to the sea.

“What about yours? How is the scar on your nose?”

“It’s fine. Could’ve been worse” You walked towards him, sensing he had bathed like you as well, his hair looked perfectly curly and you couldn’t help but smile.

You could stay looking at the horizon forever, just because he was by your side. The sound of the waves calmed your mind after another day of calamities brought by war.

“For those who chose the sea, greatness waits at the end of the rainbow,” you said smiley. But the general remained stood silent.

“Those are ludicrous tells, the truth is that even war has infected the sea as well.”

“Because we chose to fight, then yes, the sea is also an arena. But if we chose not to, the way will not depict war” his eyes kept looking at you, completely fixated and even threatening, like Acacius was trying to understand how much you were judging him.

“We do this because we don’t have any other choice, princess y/n,” Acacius said, finally turning to look at you.

“We could run away, to the south, the islands of the Tyrrhenian Sea are empty, nobody wants to live there” your voice trembling, nervous and waiting for his response. He stared at nothing, probably thinking. And that made you uneasy.

“I can’t leave Rome, I have to go back to…” he said coldly.

“Your wife….Right”

Silence. Even the sea seized the sound of the waves.

“Haven’t you told her?”

“What’s there to be told? I said this was only a thing of passion and lust” You bit your tongue at his harsh words.

“Was it? Would you say that all those nights you shared your past with me meant nothing, Marcus?”

There it was. His most personal name, that one nobody used. The general got closer to you, paying attention to your face. Princesses did not have scars, but you did. He wanted to say so much, but he couldn’t. You noticed how his fingers were about to trace the pink scar on your chin but he moved away.

“I was drunk most of the nights, doping the pain” Finally your eyes crystallized.

“Do you love Lucilla, General?” His steps stopped then turned around to face you one last time.

His eyes looked doubtful but soon landed on his feet.

“… I do love her” you nodded, holding the tears and bursting out of his room in anger.

“Of course you do”

Your disappointment was so evident that Acacius was able to look at your face reddening and tears falling freely. He could only sigh and go back to pack his things and get ready to arrive in Rome again.

If only you knew…

…

The crowds of Rome couldn’t stop screaming your name. It was “PRINCESS Y/N!” and “ACACIUS!” everywhere.

You were no hero, you just wanted a peaceful life in a free Rome with the man you loved. And you can feel his hand brushing yours while his left salutes the parade of people chanting both of your names. The truth is you have no purpose but to serve your brothers and pretend that is your life.

The twins always hated you. Their mother was a wealthy woman but yours was the emperor’s true love. The twins used to pull your hair and always picked poisonous berries to give you as a meal while being toddlers. It got worse as everyone noticed you were your father’s favorite. And with him gone, you were utterly alone in the world.

Your clumsy steps made you arrive later. There was no crown for you waiting like it had been for Acacius. Geta and Caracalla were talking to him. And when you noticed the sword in the general’s neck, your face went serious.

“Do not forget the privileges we’ve made for your wife” you heard Geta saying.

“Same benefits we’re making for your whores, frater” The twins turned to look at you, quickly releasing Acacius and going straight to you. Their golden armors were a mere matter of display. They could barely wield a sword. They were bad with the bow and arrow and their reflections were poor too. They were good with numbers and shapes, but that wasn’t much in the city they shaped. One full of segregation and violence.

“Dear, soror… you’re back…” you think Geta gets closer to hug you, but his hand has raised and he gives you a sharp slap across the cheek.

“Dazzling and with such a big mouth as always” he added while you looked down, your cold hand against the reddening skin and sending him the worst look you had.

“Leave the princess alone, emperor. We should be focusing on the games ahead. We brought many slaves that some of them could fit as gladiators” Acacius said, looking affectionately at you, with disguise.

Caracalla only laughs in your face and his monkey reaches you for some seconds, but your brother pulls him away quickly. You wonder how far his disease has spread. Before leaving Rome, he was completely against seeing a doctor.

“Acacius is right, Geta. Let’s focus on the games” the twins agreed but sure, they had to humiliate you one last time.

“Alright then. But the next time I see you, dear y/n… I don’t want to see your hair down freely. You look like a whore and not the princess of Rome” he whispered loud enough to make everyone hear. But finally, the twins were gone.

“Are you alright?” The general asked but you rolled your eyes.

“I don’t need your help, Acacius. I’ve dealt with Geta and Caracalla since the day I was born. Which was before we met you” he sighed, understanding you were still mad from your last conversation. He appreciated your free hair, long and healthy despite the fires you went through while in combat.

“I just don’t want to see you hurt. It’s enough they sent you to serve in the war when you should be here, safe from the horrors”

“Go home to your wife, Acacius. Your dinner will be cold…” you spit out with a bitter tone before walking away, disappearing through the walls of the palace.

…

Standing naked, dripping, and waiting for servants to dry you up, you stare at the dress hanging in your room. It had been months since you wore a dress, used to armor and tight braids, and the sensation of the fabric felt odd.

As a kid, you wished to befriend your servants, but they remained professional and apologetically brushed away your questions. Which made you feel even more lonely while they dressed you up; placing gold jewelry and rings with quartz, spraying perfume, and cleaning your teeth. Geta and Caracalla always stole the sweets from you as kids, you thanked them because instead, it was Caracalla who ended up with a decayed tooth and a gold one as a replacement.

“You’re ready, princess,” said one of the servants and you smiled at her as a thank you.

The whole time while you and your brothers awaited to arrive at the Colosseum, you ignored them. You sneaked away as soon as you arrived. Knowing the place like the palm of your hand, you took a secret passage, in hopes to go and tend your horse to delay the entertainment as long as you could.

Gladiator fights were of no interest to you. But the people loved it. Their ignorance made you understand why they hadn’t tried to throw your brothers from the thrones.

But being months away made you forgetful of the architecture of the Colosseum, forgetful enough to end up in the cells of gladiators. Looking perplexed, you gulped nervously. There were indeed many slaves brought.

Being the only woman there made you the center of attention. Even worse when you looked exactly like a princess would do.

“Princess y/n, What are you doing here?” Asked one of the high-rank soldiers, running towards you.

“I wanted to tend my horse. It was brought here by accident” you replied, eyes wandering through the cells, noticing the people inside them were full of new people, probably from Numidia. You wonder if they recognized you.

Your eyes met the ocean-blue ones of a man, he certainly recognized you as he looked at you with anger. You gulped once again, looking away from him. But his gaze had been so strong that you didn’t hear a servant come running from the end of the hallway.

“A TIGER ESCAPED! A TIGER ESCAPED! CLOSE THE DOORS!” he screamed and soon everyone went into panic mode. You didn’t have enough time to process what he said and do anything. You stood there confused for some seconds. The violent roars of the animal could be heard closer. You looked around trying to find a weapon.

“Stay behind me, princess,” said the same soldier but you didn’t trust him so you went to grab a bow and arrow. The prisoners yelled and quickly you understood they were having a private show. They hated you for being Roman, and they thought they would see you dying.

But you wouldn’t give them that satisfaction as much as you sympathized with them.

The tiger appeared, big and imposing. The animal was angry, visibly distressed, and ready to attack.

You had killed men, but an animal was different. There was no exact description of what to do. Just pure instinct. So you try to calm yourself before the tiger spots you and the soldier, who are the only ones that remain vulnerable. The guards closed the entrances as protocol, unbeknownst that you were there. And it had been too late to use the secret passage.

You felt the same man’s eyes on you and indeed, he looked carefully at you, probably wondering what would be your next move.

“PRINCESS, STAY AWAY!” The soldier screamed when the tiger came running towards you two.

The tiger jumped and threw the soldier, roaring as it tried to kill him. So you ran away in hopes of aiming at the eye of the animal to gain time. Your hands shaking and you could feel your legs get tangled up in the fabric of your dress. But your nervousness isn’t visible as your hands work on getting ready for the arrow. You don’t have time to calculate, the tiger has already bitten the soldier’s fingers.

You hit it very near the eye and the animal roared even louder, in pain. That’s when you spotted the sword the soldier had left behind, where you threw yourself to, as the tiger had tried to attack you again. The man with blue eyes pushed the sword towards you from inside the cell and you didn’t even look to thank him, you only grabbed the weapon and rolled to the right before the animal could scratch your face and kill you.

You heard the soldier cry out in pain but you couldn’t help him. Thinking you could end the beast chasing you, you failed, sinking the sword in the ribs of the animal. You felt a deep scratch in your arm and you cried out. Anger quickly builds up as you know you had to get out of there before everyone at the coliseum found out. The tiger roared one last time and before it could throw you to the sandy ground you grabbed another arrow and directly pierced the eye of the animal. Blood starts pouring and before the tiger can try to bite and break your neck, your hands end up in its mouth.

The fangs were dangerously digging into your hands and more blood started coming. Scarlet droplets fell all over your face and you didn’t care. You screamed in pain and pulled all the strength in your body to put the pressure on your arms and hands. The men inside the cells cheered and made you even more angered. Until you had torn open the tiger’s mouth, breaking its jaw and killing the animal.

Breathe….

Pushing the dead animal aside, you sighed, resting on the dirty floor for a couple of seconds before taking a long breath and standing up.

Every man inside each cell looked at you quietly. What’s there to say?

Five guards open the main entrance and look confused at the mess, then at you tending the heavily injured soldier.

“Bring a doctor,” you tell them and they nod without asking more questions. Only one comes to your side.

“The games are about to begin, princess. I must escort you back to where you should be” Trying to catch your breath, you nodded.

“Do not say a word about this mess” The guard only bowed his head in agreement.

The least you could do was to put some bandages around the bloody hand of the soldier. Then you cleaned yourself and noticed you were a mess.

Giving that soon-to-be gladiator one last look, you tried to thank him with your eyes for what he had done to help you. He understood, giving you a cold nod.

And as you walked towards the royal platea, you wondered if that was the slave your brothers mentioned. A poet…

“Oh heavens! What happened to you?” Asked Lucilla as soon as you tried to take a seat beside Geta. Then everyone turned to look at you in horror. You noticed Acacius looked worried and he couldn’t keep his eyes away from the blood in your dress and bandaged arm.

“An accident” you replied politely at the woman, not in the mood to face the wife of your ex-lover.

“You look horrible,” said Caracalla.

“It won’t; happen again, frater” you tiredly answered, sinking onto the chair, ignoring Acacius’ eyes on you.

Soon you are surprised to see the gladiator who helped you in the arena. You don’t face him when he ends up winning and he looks at you. But you do notice Lucilla’s behavior and quickly you have connected the dots.

What an odd coincidence…

…

This time, you checked the animals first, then you made sure nobody had seen you entering the cells, but you went where the mysterious gladiator of blue eyes rested.

“Barbarian, monkey eater, slave, gladiator…. Prince of Rome, How may I call you? Hanno or Lucius?” Soon you had him inches away from your face. At that moment, you had time to appreciate his features. He was handsome and looked pretty much like he belonged to Roman royalty. But his gaze was fueled by anger and pain.

“What do you want?”

“I know Lucilla came before me. She had been waiting for you ever since I can remember” he looked at you with cold eyes and unbothered. But you knew he was curious about you too.

“What do you care? You’re the princess, you support all of this” his anger was palpable, it was part of his way of fighting you had noticed.

“Who did you lose?” You asked.

“My wife” he replied after a little silence, you nodded apologetically. He didn’t believe you.

“My father was a friend of your grandfather, part of the council. Now I realize that when he was elected emperor, he started hunting you down. I’m sorry”

“You don’t. You joined their cause and you fight proudly on the battlefront. I saw you…” you chuckle sarcastically.

“The twins you met the other day are my half-brothers. And they have tried to kill me since I was born. They sent me to war as punishment, but Acacius trained me well enough to survive each battle”

“So what? Should I pity you?”

“No, please don’t. But I don’t support any of this. I want to be a free woman and be with the man I love but I don’t think I’ll live enough to make it happen” he seemed interested in your words but pretended he wasn’t. Either way, you kept talking.

“You can’t kill Acacius. He’s leading a rebellion against my brothers” he stood quiet, trying to taste the lies in your words. But you seemed very truthful.

“Interesting that you want his head when all I’ve wanted is his heart” Through the cell his eyes sparkled and looked tentatively at you, for some seconds you got too attached to them.

“What about Macrino?” The old man had been trying to gain your brother’s trust and you thought that was suspicious.

“Don’t trust him. Stop sharing any detail that could tell him what you want or fear”

“I don’t trust you either”

“You shouldn’t,” you said, a little smile unconsciously appearing on your face. And to your surprise, Lucius smiled too. There was something about you that he found lovely. You seemed honest, but he couldn’t trust you yet. So he cursed once you had left, you had him looking forward to meet you again.

…

Across the room runs a large table filled with food. A variety of fruits, bread, lamb, duck, pork, and lots of wine. Your hands float around the punch though, reminding you of the first time you tried Egyptian beer. You ended up drunk with Marcus Acacius, laughing on the sand and soon both ended up naked. You frown, trying to forget that messy night.

“You’ve been oddly quiet these past days,” said Lucilla appearing by your side, grabbing more fruits and placing them on her plate.

“I’ve been busy”

“Have you met Macrino?” She said pointing in disguise at the man who laughs with some senators and your brothers.

“He’s been around for some time. But I don’t like him” you confessed.

“I’ve also met his poet gladiator” you added, opting to not look at her eyes because she responded very shocked.

“What?”

“He wants to kill Acacius for the death of his late wife, avenge his homeland, etcétera etcétera. I told him not to because we plan to free the city. You can’t proceed with the nonsense of taking him out of the Colosseum. Your son can’t be the alibi to start a revolution, Lucilla” you said whispering. She gasped in shock, wondering how you knew already. All while you carefully watched if any of your brothers or that nosy man were looking. Not even Acacius was looking.

You sigh, shrugging and looking at the woman.

“As soon as he came out wielding that sword in the arena, your face said everything. Then just by hearing his mysterious backstory. It was obvious, Lucilla” She didn’t say anything else, so you continued.

“I shall repeat myself once again. You won’t encourage Acacius to get your boy out of the Colosseum.”

“Why not?” you chuckled at the woman.

She was very pretty, sweet and caring. No wonder why the general loved her.

“You and your husband were lucky that I found out one of your maids heard everything and was about to spill it”

“What did you do, y/n?” She asked tired, thinking destiny was so meticulous and how you had ended up in such a position to hear and stop the maid before chaos unleashed.

“Let’s say I granted her eternal silence,” you said, Lucilla sighed, understanding. And before she could thank you, you spoke again.

“Wait till Lucius is in the arena to save him. And stop looping Acacius into this madness, you’ll make him get killed” She understood everything by the way your eyes looked at her. It shocked her, but she remained calm as you left to sit at the table. Only a woman in love spoke with a mix of venom and sweetness like that.

Taking a seat beside the General, he turned to look at you.

“What were you talking about there with Lucilla?” He asked in a very low but deep tone.

“Just gossiping about Senator Brutus and his new wife…” he knew you were lying but tried to act normal.

“Princess y/n… How true are those rumors about you breaking the jaw of a tiger?” asked a scribe, making you look away from Acacius, Lucilla returned to the table and your brother was already laughing at you for something you couldn’t hear.

“Well… it’s true, domine.” The table burst into laughter. Only the general and his wife remained silent.

“You did what?” Asked Acacius looking at you in horror.

“A princess shouldn’t be in combat” added Macrino, making you set your eyes on him.

“Oh I am a princess but I’m also a soldier, domine. And I have to thank my brothers because they made me a woman capable of wielding more than one weapon by sending me to war” The twins stopped laughing. Geta sipped from his wine and returned to you.

“That’s true. While you were there getting battle scars, Caracalla and I focused on diplomacy, ensuring we gained more land” You want to laugh at his face. The council did that, not the twins.

“Did you ensure the poor were stable by cutting from the rich? Did you do the math to financially cover each branch Rome rules, Geta? Or did you and Caracalla just point at lands on a map to get like prizes?”

“y/n…” Acacius whispered your name, trying to make you stop. The tension has risen very quickly.

“You have one task, soror. To give us India. A woman shouldn’t even be speaking on the table” Caracalla said when you were about to stand up and burst out. Marcus grabbed your hand under the table.

And immediately calmed you down.

“I’m only saying you should wisely rule this great empire. Do not let it fall…”

Soon the chatting turned into drinking after the awkward moment. When most of the men were getting drunk you returned to the table, cautiously grabbing food again. When you looked up, you encountered the image of Acacius kissing Lucilla. And it made your blood boil.

In a thick piece of fabric, you placed bread, some fruits, cheeses, and a small piece of lamb.

“What are you doing?” you nearly screamed when you noticed Acacius standing by your side.

“I’m grabbing food”

“Isn’t it a little late to eat again?” He wasn’t judging you, he never would, but he was very curious.

You would start up a little fire after seeing the painful image of him kissing his wife.

“It’s not for me…” before he could ask you you sprinted away. His blood boiled too, his hand firmly grabbed your wrist to stop you.

“What are you playing?” He asked.

“Playing? I’m definitely not”

“Is this some kind of punishment for what I told you days ago?” You sighed.

“I didn’t mean to say it was nothing. But… you have to wait, y/n” Acacius whispered and you chuckled.

“I’ve waited long enough to realize you will always be trapped in a marriage with two different kinds of love. And Lucilla will never love you like you want because her heart will always beat for that gladiator whose name was carved from the Colosseum”

You had raised your voice, Lucilla was looking at you two, and everyone else was drunk. So you violently flinched away from the man, who looked at you with a mix of pain and rage.

You leave and he immediately sends a guard to follow you in disguise.

“We must talk,” Lucilla said to Acacius, taking his hand.

He nodded.

…

What did that man have that made you feel safe? He didn’t protest when you walked inside his cell. He didn’t demand you to go away. He quietly lets you inside, talk, and explain yourself.

Two visits filled with food from your dinners were enough to let him know you had no intention of killing him. Your curiosity must’ve been too big, his eyes too attractive, and an odd vibration that warmed your chest.

To be honest, you had no idea why you came back to him. You just felt something. And you hated to admit it.

“If the emperors have made your life so difficult, Why didn’t you leave?” Lucius asked. He had eaten everything you gave him and was sitting beside you on the dirty floor.

“Every time I tried to escape, I couldn’t make it far enough. So I stayed and accepted my fate. To serve them will keep me alive ” he nodded, finally understanding why you hadn’t revealed yourself against the evil emperors.

“You didn’t come down here just to talk”

“I didn’t. I- I guess I just want to believe you’ll do something greater than I have always tried. Everyone talks about your rage but I think you quite act like a prospect hero… with honor” you revealed and wanted to cut your thong like you did with that old maid. You hated oversharing. But instead, Lucius chuckled and you frowned confused, expecting him to talk.

“You reminded me of my wife…”

“How so?”

“She said similar things to you” Most unexpectedly, you blushed. Thankfully the darkness of the cell made it unnoticeable.

“I’m trying to find a way to get you out of here before your mother does something rushed”

“I was very harsh with her”

“How couldn’t you? I would have behaved the same way. But she loves you and she doesn’t want to let you go just when she found you” Lucius smiled once again, making you remain still, unsure of what to do next. Soon you realized the sun was very close to coming up again.

How many hours had you spent talking with the rightful Prince of Rome?

“I must go, Geta and Caracalla will know I spent the night away,” you said standing up, trying to clean the mess your dress had become.

“Will I see you again before that revolution happens?” You smiled, walking back near him.

He was tall, you had to completely raise your head to face him.

“The final day of the games is closer. I’ll bring you more food and I’ll try to see what will the next encounters look like”

“Thank you. I judged you too fast…” he said and you chuckled.

“You still have time to change your mind”

You didn’t notice when he closed the distance. Just when his face had been inches away from yours, you gasped.

But neither of you two protested, your lips touched his at the same time.

Tasting the wine you brought him made you feel intoxicated. No intrusive thoughts appeared while you kissed him.

You could only taste his passion, his need to take control. But all his hidden softness too. One of his hand caressed with softness your cheek and the other grasped your neck.

“Stay safe, Lucius,” you said as you moved away from him.

…

The whole day was lost because you spent it sleeping. Only when you woke up for dinner, did you learn you had missed the games of the day. But Lucius was alive at least. You dreamt of his kiss but when you woke up you had an odd sensation in your stomach. Confusion filled you and then… ache.

As you brushed your hair, you got lost looking at a red candle. It had been a present from your father some years ago. A red candle to be lit whenever you felt like you needed to feel love, he had said.

The wise emperor had wished to see his daughter with her true love. Just like had always wanted but couldn’t.

There was a broad shadow that you spotted through the mirror. It made you pull out a silver knife and point a the figure.

Soon the cape was removed and you sighed but also gasped shocked to see Acacius standing in the middle of your room.

“What are you doing here?” You asked worriedly, standing up and hurrying to close your windows.

“You had spent all these past nights in the Colosseum,” he said, sounding a little angered.

“Now you’re spying on me, Acacius?” He sighed exasperated.

“What are you doing with that gladiator?”

“What do you care?” You asked with defiance.

“He’s going to get you in trouble, princess y/n” Your eyes pierced his, but you decided to move away, leaning against the towers of your bed.

“He deserves more. And not only him, but every slave we brought and all those we left in ruins” you admitted, looking at the fire of the candle.

“They do, but it’s not our duty, at least not yet. We need to focus on the plan we have…” you wanted to roll your eyes and yell at him, his wife could’ve ruined everything and he was only paying attention to you.

Only paying attention to you?

“Stop going to see that man”

“His name is Hanno and I’ll visit whenever I desire” you spit out with bitterness and you knew he was angry. Acacius clenched his jaw and sighed once again. Under his cape rested his armor, his hair messy, and his scars fading.

“Why? Because he makes you feel things?”

You remained quiet. As simple as it was, his question took you by surprise.

“I-… I don’t know. I had no reason to go back to him, but I did it anyway”

“Oh heavens, y/n. Don’t you see that I’ve always told you to wait? Because I’m counting every golden coin I have to give you that house on the island you always point at. To leave Rome with you…”

It took you on a curve. You didn’t know what to say, only the tears wanted to be present.

His hands found your hips and his lips seek yours. Sometimes, while being overseas, you two would argue. And the only cure was to be silent and kiss after a day of ignoring each other.

This time feels different. You feel so confused.

His forehead softly bumped yours and you two stayed like that for some time.

“If you had those ideas to fulfill with me. Why do you remain married, Marcus?” He smiled.

“That’s different, satis. I was set to marry when you were very young. I just can’t undo it.”

“Why do I feel like you’re only doing this because you feel pressured?”

“It’s not like that”

“Either way you wouldn’t tell me that you love me. So it’s in vane…”

“BUT I DO LOVE YOU!”

You frowned, biting the inside of your cheek. For a moment you thought you could only hear how your heartbeats slowly thumped. What you wanted to hear for years had been delivered. It felt good, even right to hear it. And when you were about to believe it, something clicked.

“No, Marcus. You just realized you hate the idea of me falling in love with someone else. Even worse when it’s the son of your wife”

Without the strength to say anything else, you moved away. Your feet quickly dragged you out of your room, and then out of the palace.

You walked through the streets of Rome, seeing all the hunger, poverty, the lack of love from the government.

By midnight you arrived at the shore. The warm sand cured your bolting mind.

There was an imminent battle coming up. You had a place in the rebellion. And yet you had to be only thinking in two men. Who had made a mess of you in a matter of days.

You had nothing with any of them. It was just the causality of what they made you feel.

Lucius made you feel like the woman you would’ve been if you had escaped Rome years ago.

Acacius made you feel adored like the woman you turned into wasn’t as bad as you thought. He believed in you.

But it wasn’t enough. None of them were enough. Your mind was spiraling and you realized you were sobbing in the middle of the dark. You can hear and faintly distinguish the sea. You had cracked, like the fallen fruit every poet and philosopher always mentioned.

And even when you knew you had to only focus on the war, you still didn’t know what to do. You barely knew the men that had you losing it.

_________________________

Taglist: @stargirl-mayaa @willowpains @nicolebarnes

I don’t love the ending but I genuinely don’t know who should reader end up with. PLEASE SEND IDEAS!!

[maybankswhore]

BESTFRIENDS GIRLFRIEND.

a ‘mini’ continuation of this fic here!

summary: the night at the beach seemed to be long forgotten. or that’s what you thought until a stupid treasure hunt leads you and jj sharing a place in a locked incubation device and he helps you remember where it all started.

a/n: just recently finished season four & that scene w kiara and jj gave me the perfect idea. i know it doesn’t really ‘match’ the timeline of the last one but we can all pretend that it does <3

warnings: voyeurism , , mean!jj , reader that plays naive , fingering , use of afab anatomy , mentions of cheating , heavy petting.

You should’ve known you were setting yourself up for failure. The minute you saw the slight smirk on JJ’s face the minute you offered to take Kiara’s place— you should’ve known something was going to happen.

Though , almost getting killed and getting your life saved by JJ Maybank was definitely not on your BINGO card.

Things between you and JJ hadn’t settled since that day night. If anything , it only made everything worse.

You were grateful another adventure opened up for the time being because pulling away from John B made you feel sick. You were eaten up by guilt , fear that your dirty little secret would blow up in your face and you’d have to own up to what you’ve done.

You could only imagine the devastation it’d cause John B and the disappointed looks from Kiara and Pope. The idea alone made your stomach sick.

JJ made it impossible to forget. He never brought it up. Not once. But that look in his eyes every time he looked at you made that same familiar feeling from that night on the beach wash up all over again— and you just knew.

You laid there in absolute dread in silence. Your eyes had opened before JJ’s and the immediate feeling of pure terror overcame you. Your memories washed back up and as the bends slowly faded away , the reality of the situation sunk in.

Practically quarantined with JJ , in this closed space , for twelve hours seemed like the test of a lifetime.

As he began to stir away , you swallowed harshly and scooted away. You clutched your necklace , anxiously fiddling with the string as you desperately search for nearby nurses.

“My savior.”

His voice was raspy. A hint of edge around the words as he cleared his throat roughly.

Silence filled the air pretty quickly and JJ’s mouth made a sound. He played it casual , coy like he always did. Cocking his head towards the side , he stared at you. “Ignoring me?”

Again , you decided to stay silent. Your cheek was raw with how hard you were biting it.

JJ sighed. “You know , I’ve been waiting to get you alone since that night on the beach.” He murmured. “A bit offended you actin’ like nothing happened.”

He was baiting you and you knew it. You refused to give and kept staring out the circular window.

“C’mon , Y/N. . .” JJ drug out your name barely above a whisper. You could feel him inching closer making you start to feel hot , your ears burning at the tips. “Have you fucked him yet? After me?”

His question made you flinch.

“Stop playing little miss innocent —” JJ narrowed his eyes , bringing up his index finger to your chin. Everything in you was screaming at you to not make the same mistake twice , to stand your ground , to fight him. . . but you were like putty in his hands. The minute you felt his skin on yours , you felt a fire where he touched and your head tilted ever-so-slightly to the side. “I know you think about it. About me.”

JJ looked into your eyes and paused , before a wide smirk developed on his face. “You haven’t , have you?” You didn’t need to say it , it was written all over your face. You were never good at keeping secrets. You were always so easy to read.

Especially by him.

He knew you like the back of his hand. All that pining had finally paid off— in his mind.

“How come?”

“JJ stop it.” You mumbled , moving to push his hand away. But he didn’t care. Instead he turned on his side to look at you , feeling like the first time all over again.

God , he hadn’t stopped thinking about it. About you.

John B was his bestfriend , his brother , but you— he couldn’t help but be addicted to you. He couldn’t change it and he didn’t want to. He’d risk loosing it all , everything , just to have you.

“You liked it—” he taunted. “You liked it so much , that I ruined your sweet little pussy for anyone else. It only remembers me. It only wants me.”

You shivered and shook your head. “No. I—I love John B. You’re acting crazy.”

“Crazy?” JJ let out a dry laugh. “You should know just how crazy I can be , baby.”

“He’s your bestfriend , JJ.” You sighed and shook your head , pushing his hand that was starting to drift downwards away. “You know this is wrong.”

“I don’t care if it is.” JJ scoffed. “I meant what I said that night. You were supposed to be for me.”

His words made you shiver. The memories crashed onto you like waves , so vividly that you could almost feel exactly how you felt sprawled out on the sand with your legs wide open just for him.

JJ noticed your reaction and smirked. It only pushed him further. “You know it , don’t you?”

You pursed your lips. Pushing your chin up defiantly as you scooted closer to the window , putting as much space between the two of you as possible.

JJ rolled his eyes. “C’mon. You might be able to lie to yourself and lie to John B— but you can’t lie to me, baby.” He murmured softly , delicately. There was a teasing tone to his voice that irritated you because you knew he was right and you hated yourself for it.

“You’re acting crazy , JJ.” You whispered. You squeezed your eyes shut and prayed that this was all a dream— a nightmare. Though the warmth of JJ’s breath and how your heart beat so loudly you thought it’d beat out of your chest , you knew it was real. Too real.

“Maybe I’m just crazy about you.”

Suddenly everything began to feel hot. The all knowing fact that you were trapped in this stupid metal bubble , next to him , it all started feeling too much. Beads of sweat dripped down your forehead , and your hand twitched. Your chest began to rise and fall quickly and you weren’t sure what you were more bothered by.

The claustrophobic , suffocating feeling: or the thump between your thighs that you wouldn’t be able to blame on alcohol.

Light as a feather , his fingertips tapped across the smooth skin of your thigh. He watched you in satisfaction. Loving the way you responded to him despite you trying to fight it. “It’s just you and me in here , baby—” he cooed in your ear. Leaning forward to press a soft kiss to the side of your neck , making your breathing hitch. “Nobody’s gonna know.”

“I–I’ll know.” You answered softly , still refusing to look at him. You hated the way it began to hurt. How it started to burn with a certain need that only JJ could subside. Everything in your body was screaming for him. To feel him again. But your head was fighting it.

“That never stopped you before.” He quipped back.

You turned your head to look at him again. Looking into his eyes that had a certain darkness swimming inside of them. You hated it. You hated him. Most of all , you hated yourself for how badly you wanted him.

Without another thought , becoming slightly delirious and deciding to cave and give in , you rushed forward and pressed your mouth against his. On instinct , he was there. Kissing you back feverishly , gripping onto you like a man starved. He tasted of saltwater and weed , the familiar taste bringing out a soft moan from your throat.

The sound made him smirk. He liked knowing you had given in. That he got what he wanted.

And he was going to make the most of it.

His hand slipped between the two of you , immediately cupping your sex. You gasped , breaking the kiss for air. He hummed in response , rubbing soft and achingly slow circles. “Beg for it.”

“W–What?” You breathed , taken off guard.

“You heard me.” JJ said again , halting his movements. JJ gripped your chin , looking down at you. “Beg me for it.”

“JJ—”

“Beg.”

He wanted to know he had the control. The power. You knew it. As much as you wanted to deny him of it , to refuse it , you couldn’t. It ached agonizingly , just looking at him ignited something within you. Your whole body was on fire and now that it started , there was no way you would have enough willpower to put it out.

“Please. . .” you whimpered , arching your back to feel some type of friction again. JJ wanted to groan right then and there, give in to you. But he refused. He ignored the way his cock was hard and angry , rubbing against the fabric of his underwear harshly. Frowning , you grabbed onto him , fisting his shirt to bring him closer. “Please touch me , JJ. Please. I need it. I need you.”

Your words were like a song to him. He let out a groan deep within his chest and kissed you again , harder , letting his tongue slip past your lips as you gasped when his hand pushed the fabric of your tiny shorts to the side.

His index finger ran up your slit , basking in the slickness. JJ smirked down at you , cocking his head to the side. “Your pussy loves me.” He boasted , and you weren’t in a position to disagree.

“Still my dirty girl , huh?” JJ moaned , sliding his finger inside of you. He grunted as he felt your walls stretch out , the tightness of it amusing him. “I knew I ruined you for him— can’t fuck him now , huh? Too busy thinkin’ bout me?”

You only responded with a moan , throwing your head back as you felt yourself fill up.

JJ watched you with a glimmer in his eyes. He swore had had never seen something hotter. The way your eyebrows scrunched up , your lips pursed , he could your feels contracting around his finger and he couldn’t help but moan at the feeling. “You want more , baby?”

“Yes , JJ , yes. Please. . .”

“Tell me your mine.” He demanded but his voice was softer now. Almost pleading.

Your mind was hazy. You almost couldn’t understand what you were saying— but you knew in this moment it was true. “I’m yours , JJ. I’m yours.”

“Fuck.” He muttered. Dropping his head to kiss your neck , he added in another finger , rutting against the side of your thigh. He pumped his fingers in and out of you , curling upwards just enough to graze over the spot you needed most.

“Yes—” you breathed. Your head lulled to the side and your toes curled. It felt good. The coolness of his metal rings that slapped against your clit each time he pumped his fingers in and out sent jolts up your spine. It felt frivolous , like you were a school girl getting fingered by her first person. But JJ knew just what to do. He knew what you liked , how to make it feel good.

“You’re mine. You’ve always been mine.” JJ said , kissing your mouth. You moaned into it , shaking underneath him as the feeling of his mouth on yours amplified the pleasure you were feeling.

The familiar feelimg began building up in your tummy and you gasped , pulling away as you used him to steady yourself. He sped up , just a little , keeping the same place as before. He cooed in your ear , kissing and sucking on different places. “Cum for me. Cum for me , give it to me.”

With your head thrown back , you felt your legs shaking. A dirty , loud moan left your mouth , one that made JJ’s ears ring. You grinded against him , riding out your high.

“My fucking girl—”

You came down breathlessly , with a new urge. You quickly attached yourself to him , wrapping your arms around his neck and bringing him closer to you. He kissed you back hungrily , grinding into you.

You jumped when you heard a knock on the glass.

“Sorry to um— interrupt.” The nurse cleared her throat awkwardly , looking away. “We need to check your vitals. . .”

And just like that , the weight of the world and your decisions fell back on your shoulders.

[soft-persephone]

Summertime Firsts

E // MDNI // WC: 1.9k // smut, oral, semi exhibition kink, nothing too crazy //more Terry // masterlist //

AN: // prequal to my previous Terry fic. A semi origin story of sorts

The first time you got on your knees for Terry, you were anxious. 

Most guys had an expectation of how things would go when girls do this sort of thing and you were somewhat on the more controversial side of things. 

Sometimes there was an opportunity that would prevent itself to talk about it at the beginning of your relationship with a guy, and other times you might hide it for as long as you can or hopefully you could lie and pretend your way through it, especially if you knew from the jump you weren’t going to be spending any lengthy memorable time with them.

But Terry was your maybe forever guy. You could feel it in your toes all the way to the tips of your ears. 

It’s barely been a month, but you want him around as long as possible. 

“You sure you wanna do this?” He hummed rich and lowly at you. His stormy multicolored eyes swirled into dark hues of grey as he regarded you with an unrelenting gaze.

There was only so much time. 

You both were secluded to the semi private corner of shade in your best friend's backyard, Hiding from the cruel unbearing judgment  of the sun as  its invisible heat carried out its silent punishment. The evidence of it was making your clothes stick to your skin, and the dark ring of perspiration that steadily grew on Terry’s shirt around his neck, trickling down his chest as the heat urged to swallow you in the guilt of your malfeasance. 

You clenched your thighs together and suppressed a moan from bubbling its way up your throat, fighting to stay still and quiet, desperate to be good. 

You didn’t know which was worse, the absolute damning way he was looking at you or the sight of his long thick dick in his equally as large hands. 

“Ye–”

“I didn’t say you could speak.”

Your tongue darted along your parted lips, the bear was heavy on  your pores. Beads of sweat trickled down your brow, you could feel a drop threatening to fall into your eyes. 

You wanted to wipe a hand across your forehead, but you were frozen. 

Who’s wrath would you succumb to first, the sun’s or Terry’s?

“I’m kidding.” He smirked, flashing his teeth in a  big gummy smile. The action flooded you with a scorching desire adding to the heat  in the air that willed consume you. What smile that used to fill you with a comforting warmth, now fanned the flames of the unbearable heat that seared every fiber of your mortal being. 

“Come here,” he murmured, sliding his hand to the back of your neck, but you were ahead of him. 

Fighting back against your nerves, the unbearable heat, Terry’s gaze, you flatten your tongue, taking as much of him as you can in your mouth. You let your hand wrap around the rest, slowly pumping him up and down as you lathe your tongue at the underside of his dick before hollowing your cheeks.

Your glasses fogged, a travesty. 

He was thick and pretty, and you wanted to see all of it.

You bobbed your head slowly, trying to find a way to temper the heat between you, but between how hot his dick was and the heat of your own mouth adding to the budding flame you both were igiting, they fogged worse. 

“Fuck, baby.” His grip on you slackened and he slumped in his seat, causing the tip to hit the back of your throat. 

You made a muffled throaty sound, and he moaned.

You moved your head back, attempting to slide off after the shock, but Terry’s hand tightened on your neck. 

When did he put his hand back on your neck?

“No,” it was a mix between a demand and a plea, “keep goin.”

Breathing through your nose, you sucked more of him in, so his tip could hit the back of your throat this time You bobbed your head slowly. His dick felt heavenly as it slid up and down your throat. Drool, pooled in your mouth, sliding past your lips and down your face, getting all over his dick, his precum not too far behind, putting gup quite the competition with your spit.

The sounds of your mouth on his dick grew sloppier and sloppier, but you didn't stop.

“Ah ah. . .” Terry Hissed, “fuck, wait. . .”

You slid off of him with a drawn out slip, unintentional, but he was in too much of a trance to notice. 

“Why you stop?” he attempted to scold you, but it came off petulant. 

One hand was strewn across his chest, the other hanging lazily off the edge of the porch chair he was sitting in. His dicked bobbed against hislowly belly, leaking with precum and tinged an angry desperate red. 

You put your glasses on your forehead.

“I couldn't see how pretty you are.”

He rolled his jaw before tightening it and smacking his teeth.

He muttered. It was too low for you to understand. 

“I’m sorry, what was that?” you leaned in closer, batting your lashes at him innocently as you let your words brush against the sensitive sin of his dick. It bobbed underneath your ministrations.

His gaze didn't change, but you noticed how he dragged a tongue across his lips and swallowed. 

“Put them,” he leaned forward, brushing his hand against your cheek, carressing your skin softly with his thumb, “back on.”

He placed his hand underneath your chin, squeezing hard to make his point. 

Your chest rose and fell heavily as you brought your hands to the handles of your frames and slipped them back onto your face.

“Now, open that mouth back up.” He grabbed himself at the base and tapped the side of your face with it.

You were already opening your mouth for him, but apparently that  wasn’t enough for him. He tightened his grip on your jaw even more as he pushed himself past your lips, pulling your face against him until your nose tickled the hair at the base of his dick. 

He set a rigid pace as he fucked your face. 

“Why’d you go and have to make things hard?” he chided lowly. 

You looked up, whining around his dick because you couldn’t see his face. You couldn’t get a glimpse of his eyes as they surged through a storm of different colors, clouded with the heat of his desire. 

“You pretend to be a brat , but you couldn’t be more of the opposite.” he hummed.

You moaned, breathing through your nose as he wouldn't let up.

“You take. me. so. Well.” he punctuated his words with a harsh thrust into your throat. You squeezed around him, lightly gagging with each one.

“Fuck, I’m close.”

He pulled off, The sound was loud and wet as he dragged himself out of your throat and back to whatever could fit in your mouth. 

With one low drone out moan, he was spilling into your mouth. 

Burning, hot, thick, and wet.

“You did so good for me. You're amazing. Such a good girl.” Terry washed you with praise, but you couldn’t really hear him. 

Too confused on what to do with the cum in your mouth. The sun is overwhelming, and the taste on your tongue foreign. 

You were at the housewarming of your bestfriend and her husband. Not, her boo thang as he was once formerly dubbed. 

With a quick thought, you  stretched your body over the edge of the porch and let the hot sticky substance fall from your mouth, spitting out as much as you could,

You rolled your tongue around your mouth, fighting down the taste of the rest of it that lingered on your tongue and the corners of your cheeks.

Maybe you’ll get used to it, but today was not one of those days. 

Taking off your glasses, you attempted to clean them with your shirt with the parts that weren’t damp from the heat.

Now clean you turned your attention back to Terry who was suspiciously quiet. 

His usual confident swagger was nowhere to be found.

His eyebrows were wound tight on his forehead, his bottom lip poking out at a dangerously pouty level, his eyes a green and wide with shock that border lined horror.

“Is there something wrong with it? Do I need to go see a doctor?” He started worriedly, “does it taste weird?”

“Oh, Terry!” You rushed up to sit beside him. “No. . . no. . ., No,” you paused searching for the right words, but the longer you sat in silence the more he seemed to freak out.”

You wanted to avoid this conversation for as long as possible, so you’d know what to say once the time comes, but the truth is you were never going to figure out what to say. 

“I just. . don’t really. . do, that.”

“You mean swallow?!” He looked at you incredulously.

You cringed at hearing him say it out loud.

You exhaled. “I haven't done this for that many guys and a few times I can spit it out without them looking, and then the other’s didn’t really care. Those relationships didn’t last that long either, so its not something that’t high on the list of things to change or get over or whatever the fuck.” You sighed again, “it's not a big deal.”

“Well. . .” Terry started in his low velvet tone, “it's important to me.” he ended surely, looking you in the eye.

“It's important!” 

“Yes, it is.” he said seriously, not at all put off by your outburst as he apparently opened up to you about something important to him and how you were being somewhat dismissive of his vulnerability.

“He pulled a handkerchief out of long forgotten and  since thrown off, linen suit jacket and wiped at your face, occasionally dipping it into a glass of water as he cleaned you up.

“I respect your. . .feelings and. . . experience,” He said tactfully, but there are better ways to bring it up than to spit it out in front of me like you did.” he sighed and adjusted your glasses back properly once your face was clean, “ir hurts my feelings.”

You closed your eyes. 

This could not be real.

“I’m. . sorry if I hurt your feelings.” you opened our eyes, ignoring the anxious urge to roll them and make a joke because it wouldn’t get rid of the tension in any way and just make things worse.

You mutter under your breath how it's usually a dark room in your room for the  first time and he probably never would have noticed if he would have just waited until you were home. 

Terry narrowed his eyes, letting the comment slide. 

“Look, it's fine.” He said with finality, giving you pause.

You look at him, really look at him.

He brought a hand to your face, caressing your cheek randomly,letting his thumb nick at the corner of your mouth.

“I’ll get you to do it one day.” he said it wistfully, his eyes swirling into hues of a blue grey as he looked at you, but not really at you. 

“Terry?” you squinted, blinking. 

“. . .whether you like it or not.” his voice trailed off as he stared off  in thought. .  

[heeseungiez]

nothing i don’t have | pjs

part 2: support our son

pairings! park jongseong x reader, ft. huening kai x reader

summary! it was supposed to be simple, you and jay would fuck whenever either of you felt horny — no feelings. but it was hard not to catch feelings where park jongseong was involved. so you took the easy way out: you ended it.

genre! texts, written fic, college au, love triangle (corner)

word count! 1k

content warnings! swearing

author's note! i'm still trying to figure out what app/site to make the texts on so if anyone has a good suggestion please help please i'm struggling

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You used to come over to Jay’s place nearly every other day. But it had been two weeks, and you were nowhere to be seen. It was to the point that Heeseung, Jake and Sunghoon began asking if you would ever come over again, to which Jay was forced to answer that you were probably hanging out with Huening Kai. He didn’t know your actual whereabouts most of the time, but he guessed. Which made him internally cringe every time.

What he disliked the most, however, was his incessant urge to text you whenever the smallest inconvenient thing happened in his day. He was sure you would very likely reply, but he was scared of what it would be like now that the dynamic of your relationship changed. It should probably be the same, but what if your voice over text changed because now you were seeing someone else?

Jay wasn’t fond of the idea in the slightest. Did you even really like Huening Kai? Who the fuck was he to take you away from Jay? (Yet you weren’t his to begin with.) He missed you, but he could hardly voice it out to himself, let alone you.

The day he nearly killed a man on the spot was when he saw you and Huening Kai walking side by side on campus. It wasn’t just that, actually, because the two of you were holding hands, and you were laughing about something Kai had said. It was even worse because he was clearly walking you to class — a class that you shared with Jay. So you were bound to cross paths, and no matter how hard Jay tried to slow his pace down, you still managed to notice him.

“Oh, hey, Jay!” you called him over with a smile on your face. It was brighter than he remembered, and he couldn’t figure out if it was just his brain playing tricks, or whether you were genuinely happier than he had ever seen you before. “You know Kai, right?” you asked innocently, but it only brought back Jay’s anger from the Sanctuary Café.

Heeseung just wanted to take Jay out to an open mic. Neither of them knew that it would also be the day of your first date with Huening Kai. Jay hated every second of being there, but to you, it must’ve been an unforgettable night.

“And Kai, this is Jay,” you said with a smile, pointing at him.

“I’ve heard a lot about you.” Kai stretched out his hand forward, but the gaze with which he beheld Jay told him that he knew everything about you and Jay. That you gave him every single gory detail of what had been going on before the two of you began dating, and that made Jay even more furious. Because he refused to acknowledge any other emotion he felt.

He ignored the tightness in his chest as he shook Kai’s hand with a nod. “I’ve heard nothing about you,” Jay replied, not lying, because he genuinely knew nothing about Kai besides the few pieces of gossip and what Heeseung divulged some time ago. Kai wasn’t surprised by that information at all. You hadn’t told Jay anything about him either.

“We have to get to class, but I’ll see you later, yeah?” You looked at Kai with such admiration in your eyes that Jay wanted to step between the both of you and push Kai out of the way. But he couldn’t do it. All he could do was stand and watch and constantly clench and unclench his fists.

“Yeah, of course,” Kai replied, bending down to kiss your temple, but you grabbed the collar of his band tee and brought his mouth down to your lips. Kai let out an involuntary giggle as it happened, and Jay had to abruptly turn away, incapable of not rolling his eyes.

“Bye,” you mumbled quietly, a soft smile decorating your lips.

“Band practice starts at five.”

“I know, Kai,” you laughed and shook your head. “I’ll be there. We need to support our son.”

Jay furrowed his brows, but with Kai’s knowing grin and playful roll of his eyes, neither of you was going to elaborate on what you actually mean.

Your son?

And yet that was the first thing Jay asked about once Kai was finally leaving you alone, his back turned to the two of you. “Your son? The fuck happened in the last two weeks?”

You chuckled at Jay’s confusion, an amused look brightening up your features. “Yujin’s still in high school,” you said, shaking your head. “The keyboardist. If you remember him. He’s actually just started his second year.”

“So you call him your son?”

“Yeah, he’s the whole band’s son. And mine, now.” You grinned proudly, just thinking about Yujin. “Anyways, I’m sorry I haven’t been in contact much lately, but I’m still getting used to this whole new dynamic of me having a boyfriend and all that.”

“Oh, you’re official already?”

“I’d hope so,” you said, shrugging. “What about you? Any new conquests lately? Surely, you already found someone else? Maybe you’ve already had someone on your roster, you know, that kinda stuff.” 

If Jay wasn’t too busy cringing at your words, he’d probably notice how tense your tone was, and how much you hated saying them, but he didn’t. All he heard was that you really didn’t care about him any more than a casual fuck and perhaps a somewhat close friend. 

“Nah, not really,” Jay replied anyway. “I’m actually kinda… I don’t know. Haven’t felt like doing much lately.”

“Right. So just you and Jane?” you asked teasingly.

“What?” And maybe it should’ve hit Jay instantly that you were speaking of his guitar, but instead he thought that you were suggesting he really was with somebody else already, and he did not like that. “Oh.” He realised moments later.

“Yeah. I guess you could say that.” He nodded. Jay had to count all his small victories of today among the losses, too, however, because you were actively speaking to him finally. And not just that — you sat down next to him in class.

tags: (send an ask or comment to be added!) @moonpri @addictedtohobi

[beescrafting]

Please Johnny come back to me.

4 months, 14 days, and 36 minutes… thats how long it had been since Johnny was KIA.

That much time had passed and yet his heart still ached, the feeling of feelings hitting harder each time he tried to suppress them. Simon wasn't a therapy guy, he was the kind of guy to suppress everything until it came to much to bare, have a mental break down for a day, and then continue the same pattern over and over again. That was until Johnny at least… Because with Johnny it felt like he had some comfort, someone he could keep from the path he had been on… He kept Johnny off the path of darkness only for Johnny to end up on the path of death himself.

Makes sense to be fair… that the Ghost would lead his Johnny to death, what a person he was… He was the cause of this, death follows him around like a looming cloud and it takes those he cares about. It hurt him so bad, it made him ache, it made every part of his heart, soul, and mind ache with such pain.

Ghost grumbled opening his eyes, he looked at Gaz who sat across him right next to the captain. They were being send out on a mission, it was a mission involving some damn gas, the same gas that Makarov had been working on… Fucking Makarov, at least that prick was dead and gone…

Price grumbled fixing his weapon a bit, Ghost gaze went towards his captain, his captain who he was able to save at least… but just that once…

"You with us Ghost?" Price grumbled looking at the Lieutenant.

Ghost simply nodded.

"alright, we have to be quick.. in and get a hold of the gas, its in the southern part of the warehouse, Simon you will head straight there, Gaz and I will take the east and west wing and together will take the north after shipping the gas out." Price reminded Ghost of the mission and its details. That was good. Very good.

~~

They had landed a bit of a distance away from the warehouse what ever it took to get this damn mission done… Ghost slowly approched hte building, knifing anyone in his way. He wouldn't use his gun until he got the go ahead form Price.

5 dead, more to come…

Ghost with cold eyes watched as another man got to close to the shadows, he was quickly delt with a quick throat slash and he was gone. Left to gurgle on his blood and die in the mud. Simon crushed his radio in front of him watching the fear and light leave his eyes. Every time he did this now he only imagined Makarov's face, that brought back satisfaction to him.

He moved forward going into the building, making sure as to be as silent and stone cold as the reaper that stole Johnny from him. The dim green lights of the building gave it an old chill, like something was wrong here, something deeper then what Simon could tell.

With his feet on the move, with his whole body on the move he made it to the room where the gas was being held and created. A lab.. with tubes large enough to hold a person of his size as well.. "Found the gas, waiting for orders" Ghost grumbled into his coms as he went through the room. He found the papers on how the gas is made, as well as… human experimentation.. tch… of fucking course.

Ghost read through the report, skimming it a bit.

Gender: Male Height: 187.9 cm tall (6'2) Nationality: Scottish

Ghost heart froze for a moment, thinking of Johnny as he skimmed over the nationality of this person…

His heart ached thinking about Johnny, his Johnny… His sergeant… With a deep heavy heart he took the papers as well, they would be useful for later in research and evidence.

He put the files next to the gas before walking around the room, moving some things around before he found a strange rug… He grumbled moving it to the side, bring it away to reveal a door hatch.

"found a door hatch" Ghost grumbled over the coms, their was no response from the others… something was fucking wrong, deadly wrong…

The silence over coms made this whole mission worse. At least until Gaz's voice grumbled over the coms, "copy, be there soon"

Price gave a quick gruff, "search the room."

ok… so they were okay and fine, not dead… that's good, he doesn't need nor want anymore dead teammates after all. Ghost opened the door hatch moving his night vision goggles on turning them on as he headed down the stairs. This could be more storage for gas, meaning they could have underestimated how much these fuckers have.

Once he reached the bottom of the flight of stairs he continued through the room, shifting through the stuff around it was only wooden crates of the gas no doubt. He frowned, before noticing the door. He frowned scowling in anger and rage. How many rooms of gas did they need? What were they planning, what were they doing?!

Ghost went to the door trying the handle.

Locked… Of fucking course it was.

"Found a locked room, breaching now" Ghost grumbled before kicking the damn door down. He had to move, get through this room before returning back up their to guard what they had come for.

He looked through the room, raising his weapon. It was dark without his night vision goggles thus him having to do a overtake of a humanoid figure…

Wait… No… it couldn't be…

Slowly the person turned around the slights dimly flickering on in a dark green color..

"Johnny?" Ghost croaked out before he attacked, the man he loved was alive but fighting him.

No… No… NO!

Ghost dropped his gun instead taking Johnny's wrist when another punch was thrown and took him down to the floor. He had the other pinned down underneath him as he stared into the others eyes… His brown hazel eyes that were like dark voids peering into Johnny's eyes… they were the peaceful ocean blue he knew and loved, they were this strange green glowing version.. What the hell… what the absolute hell.

Johnny was under him glaring with those alien green eyes, this mask on his face was a black metalic color with clear holes showing the same green color running through it.

"Who the hell is Johnny?" He growled.

Johnny didn't remember his own name, he didn't remember him… he forgot them… damn it.. damn it.. it hurts so bad.. it hurt… knowing that, hearing that…

Simon knew it was for the best the Johnny forgot about him and how he failed him, but he was selfish.. Selfish like his father in the way he didn't want Johnny to forget him. Selfish in the way that Simon wanted Johnny to remember him, remember all of them, and everything that they had been through. Both good and the bad…

Simon's heart raced through his chest, aching in pain but love in seeing his Johnny alive once more…

"You are Johnny… You…" His voice was shacky as with one hand he held both of Johnny's the other removing that blasted mask that exhaled that damn blasted gaz. "You are Johnny, John 'soap' MacTavish, sergeant to the 141… the most crazy lad I have ever had the pleasure of dealing with… Johnny…" Simon mumbled looking at the other, he felt tears building up, the same damn tears he had been holding back since he held the others bleeding body…

their were so many questions running through his mind as to how he was standing here infront of them, well infront of him.. and not really standing but pinned down but thats the main idea.

The voices over his coms came through but he couldn't hear them. He could hear his captain or gaz asking for a report on what was going on…

"Johnny.. Johnny please come back to us… to me…" Simon all but begged. Simon was nothing but a past memory without Johnny…

A Ghost was nothing without a person to follow…

[kkayyerr]

Not me checking everyday to see if you posted, im obsessed with your stories!

can i request Reader throwing a tantrum, and lke, i think in the regular being Rafe's girl it's a pretty toxic dynamic, and he is often rough with her, yanks her and stuff, just being not too soft and gentle with his touches when he's in a bad mood, a slight bad mood even.

And you know, childs usually pick up habits from adults, so when she regresses and she throws the tantrum she is like agressive with rafe like trying to push him or hit him and let's say its the first and only time that happens!:3 thats my scenario you can mold it however you want

Tough Love.

Summary: Rafe had always been tough with little!reader, but he got very surprised when he found out that his little girl is just as feisty as he is.

Warnings: Age regression, Dark!Rafe, non-sexual spanking, slight angst, unhealthy relationship. All SFW!!!

Author’s note: Thank you so much for your sweet words, I hope you’ll like this one!🫶🏻🥹

Rafe was very unpredictable the last couple of weeks. One day he could’ve spoil you, and the next day the only emotion that he would show towards you was anger. His touches became rough, somehow violent, even though he didn’t actually hit you or abuse you in any way. It was just who he was. He had never been very gentle. You knew him for a long time now, and you knew what you were getting yourself into by starting the relationship with him. What you didn’t know is that you would feel so small and overpowered by him all the time. Most of the time you felt weak. You knew that being with him was stressful for you because of his establishment. Rafe also seemed very tensed and anxious almost every day.

You started regressing more often, trying to hide from those thoughts and feelings, but they had only grown bigger. 

It was a peaceful evening for you and Rafe, until you felt the urge to throw a tantrum out of nowhere. Of course it wasn’t out of nowhere; you were just tired of everything and severely overwhelmed. You needed to let those feelings out by crying and screaming, but Rafe didn’t know that. Your tantrum was just another irritating thing for him that he needed to stop before it would make him freak out. 

 

„Baby, calm down.”

 

He said, approaching you, when you suddenly did what he wasn’t expecting you to do. 

You hit him. 

You slapped his face with the full force. 

He just wanted to lean closer to you, so you would feel more grounded and comfortable, but you might’ve feel comfortable enough if you decided that you had a right to lay your little hand on him. He was surprised by your audacity. After everything he had put up with, he got a fucking handprint on his face?

Rafe’s eyes immediately darkened, and the loving look disappeared completely. He was pissed. However, he didn’t hit you back. He didn’t shove or push you. He just went straight to the couch and set down, patting his lap and looking at you. 

 

„Over my knee.”

 

Your skin immediately covered in shivers. He had never used psychical punishments before, especially not spanking. The room was silent; you could only hear how fast your own heart beats. You were terrified of Rafe right now. Somehow that empty look on his face was much scarier than the anger that you got used to. You didn’t want him to hurt you, but he would either way, so you just made your way to the couch, carefully laying down on his lap.

You were scared, and the fact that you were regressed right now was only making the whole situation worse. Much worse.

Rafe’s hands landed on your back, and he caressed you a little bit in the soothing manner before giving you the first slap with his other hand.

 

„I hope you understand that Daddy don’t like punishing you, little one.”

 

The second slap was louder than the first one and felt just as painful. But this time pain mixed with the feeling of guilt. It was your fault; you shouldn’t have slapped him and shouldn’t have given him a reason to punish you. You wanted to be his good little girl after all. 

 

„Why did you hit Daddy, hm?”

 

You felt tears falling from your eyes when he hit you once again. You covered your mouth with your little hand to muffle sniffling and crying sounds. Rafe had hold his laughter back, so he won’t be called a „meanie” later. It was cute how hard you were trying to keep on the strong girl act, even though he knew that it was all just a facade. You were way too vulnerable to be called strong. 

 

„C’mon, answer me.”

 

Rafe said, giving you a last slap. He then immediately helped you sit, pulling you closer while you were on his lap, even though he knew that sitting might’ve been a little difficult for you right now. He gently took your hand away from your mouth, and you let out a couple of loud sobs, before finally answering.

 

„Wanted to feel stwong and big like you!”

 

Those words sounded funny because of your high-pitched childish voice, that was also still trembling from the crying. You didn’t sound like someone who is strong and big, especially not after you just got spanked. Rafe smiled softly; he almost felt sorry for you. How could someone be so stupid and so cute at the same time? 

 

„But strong girls don’t need daddies. Do you want me to leave?”

 

Of course you didn’t want him too. You knew that you simply wouldn’t survive without him. You needed your Daddy, no matter how difficult it was to stick around him lately. You remember him also being there when it was hard to stick around you. 

You shook your head, quickly hugging his neck, so that way he wouldn’t leave you or disappear. His calm breathing relaxed you. He was there, close to you, and he wasn’t mad. 

It was strange to admit, but it was the first time in the last couple of weeks when both of you were calm and happy.

Taglist: @tinylilacbun @rafecameronsloverrrrr @aew-regression-cove

[suzukiblu]

Thank-you sentences for Roosterwhale behind the cut; “we are so pleased with this match". (( chrono || non-chrono ))

“. . . what,” the scientist says, and Kara ignores him to revel in the perfect synchronicity that Kon and Match outright throw themselves at each other with. That's just very satisfying, as a beta. Especially as the beta who led this alpha to this omega. 

As the beta who led her only sem-zahm packmate to the kyn-tul who’s been waiting so long for him to come and let him be a good bitch for him. 

Kon and Match crash together and Match immediately tries to rip Kon’s throat out, which Kara considers very restrained of him under the circumstances, and Kon smashes him into the floor to keep from getting his throat ripped out, and Match hisses viciously and backhands him across the jaw. Kon snarls back down at him and Match claws at his face and Kon bares all his teeth, and Match’s breath–hitches, very noticeably. 

And then he tries to bite Kon’s throat out, which is also very restrained of him under the circumstances, Kara thinks. 

“About goddamn time,” the scientist mutters. “Subject Match will deal with this. You three, get the–” 

“Uh, sir . . .” one of the guards interrupts him warily, the other guards looking somewhere between confused and alarmed. Kara assumes it has something to do with them actually being combat-trained and therefore capable of noticing things like, oh, body language and intent and specifically how Kon and Match are fighting each other, and the equally specific ways they very much aren’t fighting each other. 

Like–very, very specifically, on both grounds. 

“Don't interrupt me!” the scientist snaps at the guard, who grimaces. “Call the collections team and tell Lab 4 to prep for a new sample set. Vivisection or necropsy, whichever we get.” 

Didn't even say “autopsy”, Kara reflects idly. Well, she already knew the asshole deserved this. 

 He deserves much worse than this, in fact, for keeping Match all locked up down here in a cell instead of letting him have what a kyn-tul on their cycle deserves. 

And for keeping her packmate’s kyn-tul from him, he deserves even worse. 

She is not in any way whatsoever going to even pity the Agenda, no. 

Kon and Match are wrestling more than anything else right now–well, as much as “if Kon fucks up Match will murder him” can pass for “wrestling”, anyway–and Kara remains impressed with Match’s restraint. She cannot imagine what her father would’ve done if her mother had left him alone in . . . how many heats must Match’ve had by now, if he presented about when Kon did? 

Kara does a few conversions to Earthling calendars and some quick math in her head. 

. . . actually, she needs something stronger than “good bitch” to go with here, because any Kryptonian-raised omega would’ve gelded Kon for putting them through this. 

The El packs owes Match such nice nesting materials. And his pick of places for nesting in, too, up to and including all their own personal homes and bedrooms and laps. And also literally every single thing he ever wants when he’s in heat or pre-heat for the entire rest of his natural-born life. 

She should probably text Kal and her other self about collecting some of those things after they get out of here, she thinks. Once Match has gotten fucked into a more talkative mood, anyway, and can tell her what said things are. 

Though the nesting materials she is definitely already making plans for. 

Match slams Kon into the floor hard enough to crater it–hard enough to shake the room–and Kon struggles underneath him clumsily, clearly overwhelmed and trying to keep control of things he doesn't actually need to be in control of right now. Kara obviously understands why, given he's never done this before, but . . . 

“K-Kara, I . . .” Kon pants from where he’s pinned and struggling underneath Match, his eyes flared wide and pupils almost as dilated as they can get. He keeps most of the alpha out of his voice, which is honestly fairly impressive too. “I feel . . . I wanna . . .” 

“Don’t pay attention to her!” Match hisses down at him as he grabs his throat and starts to choke him, leaning all his weight and an obvious amount of muscle into it, and Kon grabs onto his wrists with a strangled wheeze. “I’m right here!” 

“I told you, Kon, you have my permission,” Kara reminds him patiently. Again, she understands why he's trying to keep a rein on his alpha, because he's never gotten to not keep a rein on his alpha, but that's the literal opposite of what the current situation calls for. “Don't you know what your Match needs from you? Don't you know how bad your Match wants you to give him what he needs from you?” 

Kon makes another strangled sound, and Match looks away from him just long enough to glare at her, baring his omega teeth in an alpha sneer–

Baring his neck, and leaving it unprotected. 

He doesn’t know what he's doing, doing that. 

But Kon's alpha does. 

Kon’s eyes snap into full eclipses and he lunges up and throws his arms around Match as he buries his teeth in his exposed throat with a full-on alpha snarl, and Match–well, Match doesn’t have irises to eclipse, but his eyes still flare the exact same way Kon’s did even as his body reflexively stiffens–as whatever these stupid humans taught him makes his body reflexively stiffen–and then, as its actually honest reaction, just melts completely down into Kon’s teeth. 

Because of course it does. Because Match is a good bitch who Kara can very clearly smell just slicked up enough to soak his hole over that bite, and is willing to let Kon prove that he’s a good alpha. 

Kon drags Match down and rolls them over and slams the other to the floor flat on his back, and Match’s expression goes all dreamy and heat-drunk and he tries to smash Kon’s temple in with a fist. Kon digs his teeth in harder and catches Match’s wrists, and Match makes a breathy, omega-soft sound and then brings a knee up into his gut, and they both shove down and claw at and cling to each other. 

Kara watches contentedly as Kon and Match thrash and struggle and crack the floor underneath themselves, all hisses and snarls and gasped-out little grunts and moans. They’re a little clumsy about it, but it’s their first time together, and she still can’t help finding it sort of adorable how their pheromones are all tangled up and smell like–well, a candy she’ll never taste again and a roaring fire, but also the quiet intimacy of a human bonfire off alone in the dark and the kind of sticky-soft-melty marshmallows that humans roast on them. 

. . . or toast, maybe? Maybe it’s toast, she doesn’t really know. Mostly she just burned hers to charcoal, the times Kal got her to try it. 

It’s a nice scent, though. Kara likes the thought of it all intermingled with and absorbed into their pack scent: the tangled mess of a compatible alpha and omega, all mixed up in each other ‘til even their own packmates won’t be able to tell the difference between their scents half the time. It might break her heart a little every now and then, but so does everything that’s ever mattered to her, from her parents to Krypton to Kal to their pack to finding out this was even a option. 

For now, though, it’s just a submission bite and not actually a mating one–obviously, because Kon isn’t the kind of bastard who’d ever force something like that–so for now their scents are still separate enough to recognize as separate scents. Kon’s teeth are still in Match’s throat, and he and Match are still struggling on the floor, and all tangled up like this they smell warm and melty and burningly horny, which is both a good sign for their compatibility and also zero percent surprising at this point. Especially since their “struggling” is increasingly less and less about the “struggle” part and more and more about getting their hands all over each others’ bodies and dragging and grinding them both together. 

And maybe about one other thing, Kara can’t help but think when she notices Kon fist a hand in the symbol on the chest of Match’s suit and shred it off him. She understands the temptation, with some other pack’s crest sitting there. 

Also now Match is showing significantly more skin, which seems like a very Kon kind of solution to the problem but is also an undeniably effective one. 

Kon pulls back just enough from Match’s throat to snarl down at him, his fistful of torn emblem held balled against the other’s chest, and Match stares up at him with eyes that can’t eclipse, that already look like moons anyway, and then–very obviously, and very deliberately–tips his head back against the floor and pushes his chest up against Kon’s clenched fist, fully displaying–and exposing–his throat and pectorals to him in the process. 

Rao, that’s the kind of submission display most omegas wouldn’t even do in porn, Kara thinks, barely resisting the urge to cover the nearest guard’s eyes for propriety’s sake. 

Well–Match doesn’t know any different, does he. He just knows what his omega is telling him it wants. 

And Kon, presumably, knows what his alpha wants, but is just holding himself still and frozen above him; above that exposed offering of a posture from an omega who probably doesn’t even really understand why he’s doing it or what it really means; from a compatible omega who very obviously differentiated to be specifically compatible with him. 

“Aw, I knew you liked each other,” Kara hums approvingly, mostly to confuse and stress out the Agenda’s idiot lackeys even more than they already are. They deserve a lot worse, frankly. And also, Kon and Match are stuttered to a stop and do both need and deserve to hear some encouragement. “The House of El is very pleased to see it.” 

“What the hell are you talking about, you alien freak?!” the scientist demands, visibly sweating from nervous tension and struggling to regain his composure. Kara doesn’t bother looking at him, but bares her teeth sweetly all the same. 

“Come on, Kon, give your Match what he needs,” she coaxes lightly, and Kon starts panting harder again, his own chest just shy of outright heaving. “He’s so angry all the time, isn’t he? So unsatisfied. Doesn’t he need someone to treat him right?” 

“I really . . .” Kon chokes, a shudder going all the way down his spine and to his respective grips on Match’s wrists. “I really . . . Kara.” 

“Doesn’t he smell so good, Kon?” she asks, just a little more coaxing in her tone–and her pheromones, obviously. “Isn’t it just how you’ve been waiting for him to smell?” 

Kon makes a strangled sound, and she hears Match’s teeth grind together. They’re both still stuck in their standstill, neither taking their eyes off each other or moving to either accept that offering or retract it. 

So Match doesn’t want to stop, and Kon doesn’t know how to start, and again: they don’t know how this goes, but Kara does. 

“Relax, Kon,” she says, dropping her voice and pheromones both into soothing notes. Betas soothing anxious or overwhelmed or overemotional alphas and omegas through their cycles is as natural as cycles themselves. “Go with it. Your body just wants you to sympathy-cycle for your Match. Wants to put you in condition to take care of your Match. So let yourself go. Give him what he needs. It's alright.” 

“Subject Match!” the scientist snaps sharply, his voice just barely avoiding cracking. “Kill Superboy! Kill him now!” 

“Little late for that idea, don’t you think?” asks Kara, who is very much aware that Kon now smells like a Rao-damned forest fire to Kryptonian senses.

[thepossummoldypasta]

I Lost Myself to Find You

Tw! a character thinks he's been drugged, strong depictions of someone feeling ill

Steve knew, he knew, it was a bad idea to come to school today. He had thought (ignorantly, stupidly,) that the effects of having his face beaten in and the horrors of almost dying to a fucked up paper-fortune-teller-monster would have faded away over the weekend. Apparently not. Of course not.

Stupid.

Now everything aches. It hurts more than Steve thinks it should. It hurts like he’s a walking livewire bruise. Like every muscle has torn apart and hurled itself back together with no care. He doesn't remember being so absolutely fucked yesterday.

It's pretty obvious that he’s in a bad way. Steve’s shuffling down the hallway like a zombie, arms curled around a suffering stomach that he doesn't even remember Johnathan socking. Not to mention the smell. Steve’s set to present as a beta and even he can smell how absolutely pathetic he is right now.

It's only second period and he longs to be back home with the covers pulled over his head.

Fuck it.

Steve turns around. O’Donnell can fuck herself; Steve’s insides are falling out and he's got priorities. His internal organs trying to eat each other has got to be more important than English class.

It's a long trek to his car parked at the far, desolate, corner of the lot. What stupid mountain was Nancy’s little brother going on about the last time he saw him? Card-something? Steve feels like that. Like he’s crawling lamb-like across some epic snowy mountain, about to collapse.

Where's his car?

Steve knows where he parked his car, but he doesn't see it in the lot. Or he thinks he doesn't; Steve can't see much of anything through the spots dancing in his vision. Maybe the swirling is making it harder to see than the spots are? Either way Steve’s got no idea how far away he is from the bimmer, lost amongst a swimming sea of metal.

He needs to sit down; to yell at his thoughts until they regroup.

Is he even in the parking lot anymore? fuck is he even in the parking lot? The swirling feeling is worse, now it's like he’s swaying on a giant seesaw crossed with a carrousel. Steve’s head feels heavy, like there is cotton and sand thumping around in there instead of brains and rational thoughts.

At least the spots in his vision are gone. If Steve focuses enough--despite his eyes mimicking a fuzzy camera lens zooming in and out—he can see boldly colored evergreen leaves and icy moss. Yep, not in the parking lot.

Probably not a good idea to wander around in the snow blanketed woods with no jacket. The weather is cold enough that Steve could freeze!

Well…

He could freeze if it didn't feel like a fire had been lit in his stomach and across his shoulders.

It's almost near dark, Hawkins is firmly in that time of year when the sun disappears early, but the sky remains dully lit. The shade cast by the trees Steve is trudging between dims the earth even further but everything seems so vivid to him that it almost doesn't matter.

It shouldn't still be this easy to see. It's almost like the preternatural senses that he’s heard come after presentation. Even Betas gain heightened senses, but Steve hasn't presented as one yet, so why is it so bright?

Suddenly it occurs to Steve that he might have been drugged.

Tommy did say he would get back at Steve for abandoning him; The really sad thing is that Steve can picture his used-to-be best friend slipping him something as payback. What would this even be? God, he hopes its not acid.

Steve knows what he has to do now, where he has to go.

Eddie can help

When you think about it, at first the idea seems utterly absurd, but Steve knows Eddie. Sure, the alpha is a major freak, but he’s also Hawkins High’s most prominent (only) drug dealer. He’s bought from Eddie. Every time Steve picked up the “party favors” his friends pressured him into getting, Eddie would get this look on his face and tell Steve that he was always there if he had a bad trip.

And that’s what this is right? It's just a bad trip—even if it was potentially caused by the one guy he used to trust more than anybody else in the world—but now Steve actually has a plan! He just has to make it to Eddie!

Shockingly that might be easier to do than one might think. Very luckily Steve knows these woods and knows them well. In abrupt clarity Steve realizes the route he must have taken to get here and therefore the route he needs to take to get to Eddie.

If he’s in the woods he must have wandered south out of the Highschool parking lot, weaved between houses and the thin tree line, and eventually got himself into the woods proper. He doesn't think he took any turns, so if he just heads west, he’ll either head straight to Forest Hills or pop back out on a road he can follow to get there.

After a small setback—because he can’t follow the sun to find west—Steve is on his way.

The hike through the frost and snow is still oddly easier than it should be. Steve feels like his body is running on fever and instinct. As he walks Steve absentmindedly starts to hum “Over the River and Through the Woods” under his breath, hoping familiar music will speed up the flow of time.

He can still see fairly well; well enough to see (and attempt to ignore) what seems like a little girl following him from close behind. Steve knows it’s probably just the ghosts of his foggy mind coming to haunt him but the idea of a young pup all alone in the woods makes something in him, ache.

Soon enough, she slips back into the shrouds of trees. The pup won’t answer when Steve calls for her; and though it hurts—oh how it hurts—Steve reasons he cannot stop and weep over the spirits conjured by his drug addled brain. He’s almost there.

It should be startling how direct the path Steve took is but he doesn't care about that. He’s almost there. Lights shimmer in the distance, if he listens closely, it's almost like he can hear the soft thrum of distant music permeating the forest floor.

Metallica.

Eddie.

The Munson trailer seems to rise from the freezing mist, welcoming and safe. Steve sees Eddie’s window aglow in the evening and a sigh of relief breaks free from his troubled chest. Steve knows Eddie’s trailer, his window (Eddie refused to sell anything worse than weed anywhere but at home), the certainty is a comfort.

Eddie promised he would help him, here Steve will be safe. Quickly but clumsily Steve flies like a moth to the soft window-light. All sense has left him now; Steve claws and whimpers at the window pathetically until it opens.

“Harrington?” Eddie sticks his head out to greet him, “What are you doing?” Steve whines at the harshness of the whisper. He knows it wasn't meant to be mean but it still feels upsetting somehow.

“Eddie, I need help” the plea is pitchy and sad even to his own ears but still Steve presses on. “Eddie, you promised!”

The poor alpha startles, sucks in a breath and leaps to settle the boy crying at his window.

“Woah, woah, woah!” Eddie flounders. “Steve, calm down, we can sort this out.” no matter how Eddie tries to sooth him Steve does not get a hold of himself. It takes several, long, anxious, moments before Eddie retreats back from the window.

Steve wails.

Why would Eddie leave? why when he said Steve could always come to him?

Steve has never felt so fragile before, He doesn't remember feeling this heartbreaking lonesomeness since maybe before high school. It could be just a culmination of every emotion he's felt and locked away because of the hell he was pulled into. it could be that this was just the last straw. Either way for some stupid reason he feels a small twinge of abandonment in his bruised heart.

All of a sudden arms envelop him in warmth and care.

"Hey, lets get you inside, okay Steve?" Eddie murmurs by his ear. "Jesus man, what are ya a space heater or something? You have your own vapor cloud." Steve doesn't think he was actually supposed to hear that part, but when he turns around, sure enough, a fine mist rises from his shoulders and trails after him like a sorrowful miasma.

how did that happen? When did that happen?

The Munson trailer is warmer and more comforting the anywhere else Steve has been in his entire life. Something rumbles deep contentedly in his chest; its so nice.

Eddie leads him over to a small couch covered in more through pillows on it than a couch thrice its size would need and Steve is glad to rest there.

"Okay man, what do you need?" Eddie questions when the other boy is settled in, "What can I do?"

Steve can't muster actual words but somehow the alpha understands. Swiftly Steve finds himself under a bundle of blankets to situate any way he wants while Eddie steps away once more. This time it isn't so bad; Steve still feels unhappy that Eddie isn't with him, however unlike last time Eddie had told Steve where he was going and was still in his line of sight as the Alpha goes to call his uncle.

"Hey Wayne" Steve hears Eddie greet his uncle. There is a brief back and forth about why Eddie is calling, and how "yes it is suspicious for you to call this late", before Eddie admits defeat. "look, You really cant get mad about this okay?" Eddie stresses into the phone. "I picked up another stray."

Another? but could that mean--

"I-I know Wayne," Eddie interrupts Steve's train of thought, "but I really gotta help my friend out okay? He's in heat."

The conversation continues at a steady murmur, but Steve can barely hear it, let alone make sense of the yeses and i-knows being passed back and forth.

Steve can't stay. He should have known taking advantage of someone's hospitality would have consequences. Here he is, a pathetic lump, on Eddies couch when he should be focusing on his omega! His omega in heat no less!

Steve struggles to free himself from the blankets and pillows he hadn't realized were completely surrounding him. Distantly he hears Eddie frantically tell his uncle he has to go and slam the handset back into the cradle as Steve almost tumbles to the floor.

"Hey! Hey! Steve what's wrong man?" Eddie manages to catch Steve by the shoulders holding him in place.

"No! Let me go!" Steve cries, thrashing in Eddies hold "You should be taking care of your omega!"

Steve nearly breaks free but Eddie wraps around him. now he's trapped in a hold more like a hug than a trap pushing him back into place.

"Well I don't know if we're quite there yet big boy, but that is what I'm trying to do!" The Alpha huffs.

"No you should be with him! He's the one in heat!" the cry pierces into the night, Its so sharp Steve is almost shocked it cam from his own mouth. Eddie makes a confused noise--that might have been a word if Steve was paying attention--he shifts his hold once more, putting Steve at arms length so he can look in his eyes.

"Steve!"

"What!" he shouts in return, Eddie looks deep in his eyes despite Steve's best efforts to look away.

"You're in heat." Eddie says it with such conviction it's startling. In fact Steve is so caught off guard that he goes limp enough to be laid back against the couch.

What--

Eddie coos at him softly, Tucking the blankets back around Steve, even going so far as to fluff a few of the pillows.

"oh honey," Eddie says sweetly as he brushes a hand along Steve's hair in a way he would normally despise, "You really didn't know? is this your first one?"

Steve nods against the alphas careful hand, taking it to nuzzle. Literally three hours ago--heck five minutes ago--if anyone had asked Steve if he was in heat he would have laughed in their face. Now the low, thrumming, ache has settled back in his gut and inclines him to think differently.

What else could this be really? well, he thought drugs, but hindsight and a safe place to rest vanishes the thought. looking back on the day all the cramps, the post-presentation senses, the fire that's settled within him, it all seems to make sense.

(a distant part of his brain--the one that will be embarrassed in a couple days time--tells him that the emotional sensitivity was also probably the result of his surprise presentation. That it was the natural, sudden shift, in hormones and pheromones effecting his already slightly addled brain)

"I don't want to leave, Eddie." Steve eventually sniffles against the warmth of the alpha. He reaches up to hold him gently and Eddie sinks into the hug.

"You don't have to go anywhere sweetheart. I'll look after you, I promise."

Later, after many cuddles and complaints from the new omega about how he "thought heats were supposed to be sexy", Steve will reflect on this week as probably the best one of his entire life. Up until that point of course. After all he has the rest of his life with the most caring alpha he's ever known ahead of him.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------Yay It's Done! Feel free to come check this out on Ao3 as well because I've decided to cross post as many of my works as I can =]

[taeggukxiie]

Hi I need to ramble about dabihawks again because what do you mean horikoshi created the perfect characters for the "two sides of the same coin" plot but never used it? What do you mean he created two characters that could've been heros together or villains together but chose the universe where they're apart? What do you mean he created two characters that could've understood each other so deeply but never made them share their worries together? Never make them talk seriously? Never make them realize that they could've helped each other?

Yes dabihawks is toxic but you wanna know why? (Partly) because toxicity is the only thing they've ever known. Their family, their growing up environment, the people they interacted with, their ideals, their opinions, the society: everything in their lives is toxic. So of course it's hard for them to be healthy for each other since they can't even be healthy for themselves.

However, even if a lot of people are saying that they represent the "we make each other worse" trope, I don't really agree (although I respect every opinions don't get me wrong). I feel like if they talked seriously they could've created something new. Both relating on how shitty their fathers were, on the abuse, on the society's marginalization they went through (because yes, Hawks is marginalized and not integrated, try me). Both talked about their dreams of becoming heroes but failing because touya became a villain and keigo became a soldier. Both relating on how difficult it is to express emotions when you lived all your life with people wanting to dictate your every moves and dreams (the commission forcing hawks to exist as they want while endeavor forcing his dream on dabi, but the reverse is also true). They lost trust in everything but could've helped each other to trust again.

They could've been the anchor for each other if horikoshi actually didn't throw their potential away (love you hori but you fucked up on that one). They could've help each other because even though dabi is obssessive he would've listen to someone who when through the same atrocities as him, just like the only people he was able to bound with were the League.

They could've help each other because hawks would've realise that his true will as a hero is not to follow the HSPC but save little children that just wanted to be accepted. Dabi could've help Hawks to get away from the commission while Hawks would've help dabi reconsider his revenge on his family (not endeavor though, but the rest of his family). Dabi would've understand that great heros are doing what they can, but in the current society it's just not enough. And they both would've understand that bad people don't fester the society, the society fester the people.

They could've been the comfort place they were both seeking. They could've understand each other. They might even have brought keigo and touya back.

What a waste.

[nikkalick]

Veilguard Spoilers below the cut. About the Blight, the current state of Southern Thedas, and the Veil…I’ve never made a rant like this so bear with my ramblings, please

I’ve seen so many people say, “We should’ve been able to tear down the Veil” and I feel like I’m going insane every time I see that take like…

MAMA A BLIGHT IS BEHIND IT??!

You think what happened to Southern Thedas was bad this game? You have no idea what’s in store for you if you open up the fucking Veil and let that trickle of Blight become a flood.

Point of Order just to set the scene with how bad the literal Blight is

“They (the writers/devs/Bioware/EA) nuked Southern Thedas so they don’t have to deal with the lore the past content set up there going forward”

Maybe. But also the only other Blight we’ve seen in game was the Fifth Blight. By all accounts a statistical anomaly in how it acted when compared to Blights 1-4. I don’t wanna delve too deep into this because it is so not the point I’m trying to make with this post, but the Architect very much had a hand in waking up Blight numero 5 and very likely impacted it in a way that made it less volatile. Past Blights saw Darkspawn hitting big populations hard and fast. The 5th started slow, in the wilds, at Ostagar. Away from large amounts of people. It is mentioned in DA:O that this Blight “feels different”.

The Blight we see in Veilguard is more in line with the Blights that came before the 5th. Something something the Inquisitor writing “worse than we have seen in living memory” because the only living memory anyone has of a Blight was the one from 20 years ago. Which was bad, but not as bad as they usually are. Veilguard’s is bad the way Blights are meant to be (if not worse because, ya know, the Gods), and it was still ONLY A TRICKLE OF WHAT THE BLIGHT IS BEHIND THE VEIL. If the full force of the Blight escapes the prison/the Fade that’s it. Goodnight to everyone in this world both within and without all of Thedas.

Moving on.

“Solas can move the Blight into the new prison that was meant for the Gods and then tear down the Veil. That was his plan.”

Sorry, did we play the same game? We know what the Blight is now. It’s the last remnants of the Titans. Twisted, broken, angry, nightmarish. It’s all that’s left. All that’s left are the plagued dreams of ancient beings that are so devastated because of what Mythal, Solas, and the rest of the Evanuris did to them with the very dagger we now hold.

I want to take a moment to address that what I’m about to say is said as someone who’s been trapped in Solavellen hell for years. I love Solas and his character, and I believe that yes, he had a plan that would have both moved (or killed) the remaining Evanuris and the Blight to a new prison while simultaneously tearing down the Fade. But if you, like me, wanted to redeem this idiot despite everything, then pray tell how does Solas locking up the Blight offer him said redemption?

How does locking away the only thing that remains of the Titans into a prison and throwing away the key redeem him? The Evanuris fucked up when using the Titan’s, idk…life blood? To take form. Solas fucked up when he, upon Mythal’s behest, created a weapon that sundered the Titan’s (and the Dwarves as whole) from their magic, from their dreams, from their very being. And they did it because they thought they had a right to. They put themselves above the dwarves and as a result they caused the Blight. And then they hid the Blight away. Yes, they hid it away to keep people safe, and yes, locking it and the Evanuris away when they tried to use what was essentially a bio weapon to maintain their position of power was a call that kept people safe for a long time. But the Veil was a consequence of that call. And while the Blight was trapped in its prison, behind the Veil, it got angrier and angrier with every passing generation.

Removing the Veil and shoving it into yet another prison will not only piss it off even more, but it doesn’t allow for Solas to actually atone for the part he played in its creation and the part he played in destroying what the dwarves used to have. He has to uphold the current prison. He has to go to it to try to soothe it. To heal it as best he can. Locking it away elsewhere, and then trying to offer it salvation after the fact? It’s not gonna cut it.

He has to go to the Black City, he has to face what he did, and he has to put aside his favorable bias towards giving the Elves “back what they lost” (a world current day Elves don’t remember and have never known) to instead put the safety and wellbeing of every being in the current world at a higher priority. That’s part of his redemption arc by the way; learning to value the lives of the people that walk this new world he had a hand in creating. Because when he wakes up before the start of DA:I he doesn’t value anyone. Shit, when Felassan declines to help him destroy the Veil and suggests he learns to appreciate the world that has been in place for centuries, Solas kills him for it.

All that said, he can’t fully put things right. He can’t reconnect the Blight with the dormant remains of the Titans. Because, as the game tells us, we’d then be faced with a bunch of Titans the size of mountains rampaging, rightfully so, because of the wrongs that were committed against them. But Solas can put in the work to find a way to ease its agony. And maybe, if given the time and the patience, one day the Veil could come down because the Blight will have had the opportunity and been given the help it needed to actually heal from the trauma that created it. And maybe taking the time to do that will have, in some small way, allowed him to make up for the shitty hand he played in destroying the Dwarves. A race he (finally) sees as his equal. Because that’s a big part of his fucking redemption arc.

[plusvanity]

Some silly little HCS for my fics:

NPD x NPD

-you might think this is the worst combo imaginable and you're damn right, except that they actually make it work because Abbath is overt while Varg is (for the most of the time) covert

-they're practicing mirroring and enabling one another to do stupid and impulsive shit, so they only get worse

-cocky bastards, inflated sense of self, grandiosity and all that jazz that basically hides raging insecurities. One wants to live it up like Lemmy Kilmister while the other is dreaming of being a dictator

-the empty schizoid core dilemma: Abbath is a fucking alcoholic because he cannot stand his own emptiness on a sober and lucid mind. Varg is arguably better because he wants to remain sober and as sharp as possible because he knows that when he drinks a little whisky he's the bottom of Abbath's jokes

-the Dead Mother concept

-Varg inevitably becomes overt because his false ego grows like a tumor on Abbath and it makes things harder for both of them

-narcissistic rage and pity parties

-they never actually give one another narcissistic supply because Varg is too fucking proud to admit he likes taking it up the ass while Abbath doesn't know how to talk with mean girls (especially those who piss while standing, have scars on their faces and like setting shit on fire)

-pyromaniacs, thought it was worth mentioning

-friends with benefits is just an excuse for being deprived together

-Abbath actually makes the fatal mistake to fall in love with Varg and he's massively disappointed when he sees Varg growing a beard instead of tits but he's sad and lonely anyway so he'll take whatever he gets. He's no high maintenance

-Varg is an asshole and breaks Abbath's heart as if it wasn't enough that Abbath breaks his liver every night in Apollon

-neither one is optimistic about the future and that's for a good reason

NPD x ASP

-you would assume that this isn't healthy because Varg can do the automatic bitch move of 'swallowing' Pelle's personality whole but he doesn't. He behaves exemplarily because he's desperate to find someone to love him despite being a sore loser

-the shared fantasy: they both live like elves in Tolkien's little fairytale (although Pelle lives like a strigoi in Transylvania) because real life just sucks and because they're both so deeply misunderstood

-both are very bad at communication, especially Pelle, but Varg is naturally quite observant and tries to find out what's bothering his lover. When Varg is silent, it is mostly because he's either entirely collapsed (narcissistic collapse) or his ego is injured. Pelle usually gives him space, but if Varg doesn't get better in a few days, he'll eventually try to talk with him, which is very tricky because Pelle doesn't speak Norwegian

-nerdy sleepovers braiding their hair together and watching Pelle Svanslös (the 1981 version)

-both are big introverts, but the difference between them is that Pelle is asocial while Varg is prosocial (he still needs narcissistic supply even if he prefers solitude instead of human interaction. It's quite complex and disappointing)

-they both read one another like open books because they have seen everything the other can offer (the good, the ugly and that weird thing in between)

-Pelle's emptiness and ego-death is different from Varg's narcissistic emptiness, but they find comfort in one another no matter what. The most powerful thing that Pelle told Varg was 'if you don't have any sense of self and you are just a mirror that can reflect anything, why not try to reflect me instead of the anger of your parents?' because in this way, Pelle gave Varg a chance to be a better, less hateful and less vindictive version of himself. Of course Varg is still struggling and probably always will

-they desperately need love and they're emotionally depended on one another. Once Pelle cracked Varg's defense mechanisms and vice-versa there was no turning back, they had to be the other's salvation

- trust issues rule over them. Very careful with people around them, they're both paranoid and highly protective with each other

-Varg doesn't look for narcissistic supply in Pelle because he doesn't want to take all of Pelle's energy. It's a boundary that he has for himself in order not to ruin their relationship, so he uses fanboys like Fenriz to tell him how great he is and all this nonsense

-they do love each other deeply. Even if they never experienced true love before, they know that their feelings are true and it's the only thing that makes life bearable

NPD x ASPD

-this is where all the scary shit begins

-every failed psychopath is a narcissist (this should tell you a lot about narcissistic rage because they can't be anything but angry losers)

-partners in crime (or rather Varg is Faust's little chewing toy)

-what happens when you take the ego and the super-ego of an individual? You're right. All you're left with is great, kinky sex. (Freud would've laughed. It's a good joke, actually)

-Faust can and will make Varg worse. It's a matter of time until he breaks Varg's core

-church burnings, vandalism, robbery, murder, gay sex, cannibalism and whatever else you would expect from two mentally deranged, ego-dystonic young and highly hormonal bastards

-Faust's chronic and incurable boredom is just what makes him get an interest in Vikernes in the first place. What they have is not a relationship to him, but an opportunity to have fun

-manipulation, gaslighting, abuse, etc. It's basically a Killing Stalking situation but Varg isn't going down without a fight or a good fuck

-drunk non-consensual coitus

-one of the dirtiest moves Faust does on Varg is shaving his head of after a nasty fight, so he strips him of all of his integrity and dignity to show him who's the boss (for a bit of context: it's Varg's fault that he tried to run off with their stolen money)

-they do a lot of crazy shit but get rid of the evidence. They firmly believe the police are dumb enough not to get them

-the empty schizoid core x2 again, although one of them is even worse

-Faust is able to get Vikernes through the full cycle of narcissistic emotional outbursts from total collapse to needy borderline to secondary sociopathy while Varg is only able to get Faust pissed

-buried past, non existent future, just live in the moment. Carpe diem, brothers ✌✌✌

-the lone wolf and the hungry tiger archetypes. The consumption is visceral and that's all I have to say

[assortedvillainvault]

Hiiii sorta new here, maybe didnt want my blog attached to this ask (nervous)

how would blitzwing handle a sick reader? personally for me showers suddenly become unbearable because i can feel every single little drop of water on my skin, textures need to be Correct™️ otherwise itll piss me off

Hi and welcome! No worries I totally understand, it’s why I keep anon asks available! Been a while since I whipped up anything for a sickfic, hope you enjoy!

Blitzwing x Sick!Reader

His fleshy is LEAKING

And wheezing, and lethargic, and can’t even walk properly!

A virus? Did you not update your firewalls?? He can hack the 5G if you need it- the frag you mean it’s not that kind of virus?

You’ve never seen a 30ft killing machine wring his hands paintless like this.

He has no fucking clue what to do – he can’t pick you up because you projectile vomit (thankfully, off the side of his servos, but still, Primus no that’s too many fluids-), he can’t shoot the things that make you sick because they’re too TINY, and punching a hole through a fleshy hospital’s roof to get you inside would just get the Autobots AND Megatron on his case-!

The con’s don’t have a medic of their own on earth, and bitterly he knows that if they did they wouldn’t care less, much less know how the frag to help.

He swore Professor Sumdac to absolute secrecy, but the little he gleaned from him didn’t much help. He’s just too big and not familiar enough with the minutia of organic life to know what could help and what could make you worse.

All he can really do is hold you, and try to stay locked on Icy because you like how cold his plating is against your overheated little body as you toss and turn.

...if you don’t get better in a few days, he’s going to kidnap the autobot medic come hell or high water. Probably tear his legs off so he can’t run, too.

[bulkyphrase]

Post-CACW Stony: a fic rec list

I've been on a Captain America: Civil War kick lately, and since I know that Steve-friendly CW Stony fic can be hard to find, I've put together a rec list!

I am thoroughly team cap, but these range from being anti-accords to just not getting into the issue, and all are Steve-friendly as long as you can accept a lot little loving Steve-whump.

Atlas by nanasekei (@elcorhamletlive) (Not Rated, Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, 11,505 words)

Summary: They don't hear each other.

Eigengrau by vorkosigan (@the-vorkosigan) (Teen And Up Audiences, 16,811 words)

Summary: Tony is captured; he doesn't know by whom, or why. He doesn't know how much time has passed since. What he knows is, he can now hear something in the adjacent cell, and that 'something' sounds a lot like Steve Rogers.

Nights When the Wolves Are Silent, and Only the Moon Howls by Cluegirl, Defiler_Wyrm (@cluegrrl) (Mature, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, 77,612 words)

Note: has a Stucky element too, but the relationship between Steve and Tony is the main focus.

Summary: “Could you drop all that stoic shit and be my freaking-the-hell-out wingman for just like, five seconds here?” Steve wasn’t sure he could think of anything he wanted less to do than to freak out about his wounds just then though, so he reached across his chest and gingerly patted Sam’s clenched knuckles. “It’ll be fine,” he promised, believing it. “Serum’s handled worse.” “You know, I actually believe you,” Sam allowed after a long second of glaring. “Which is deeply alarming, considering how much of your connective tissue I’ve touched in the last 4 hours. Now you wanna tell me what Russoff’s men did to you that made it look like you got mauled by a bear?” Steve flinched, then breathed the memory down to size. “Not a bear,” he murmured. “Wolves.”

More below the cut!

(trust me when i say) i'll get back to you by machi_kun (@machi-kun) (General Audiences, 1,549 words)

Summary: “Me and Rogers are not on speaking terms anymore.”

An Infinite Number Of Monkeys At Typewriters (Or, Steve and Tony Finally Get It Right) by JenTheSweetie (@jenthesweetie) (Mature, 18,864 words)

Summary: Tony blinked up at the face staring down at him. This was impossible. This was definitely 100% not possible, he had not just started giving a good morning handy to - “Steve?” After the events of Civil War, Tony and Steve wake up in bed next to each other in an alternate universe. It goes about as well as you'd expect it to.

And Miles to Go Before I Sleep by Cluegirl (@cluegrrl) (Mature, Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, 152,765 words)

Summary: They all made mistakes. They all have regrets. They all have nightmares, suspicions, and questions they'd like to ask. And they all left business behind them that was never quite finished. This is the story of how the Avengers ask those questions, get their answers, and come together like fucking adults to make things right again.

Bring Him Home by seventymilestobabylon (@seventymilestobabylon) (Explicit, 13,769 words)

Summary: Tony misses Steve very badly after the Accords. Some days he deals with it better than other days. (a fic featuring the booty call flip phone, minor kidnappings, and time jumps between chapters because the election has been happening and my brain has been too mush to make a proper plot)

Conjugal Visits by xtricks (Explicit, 4,252 words)

Summary: AU: Steve Rogers gets captured fairly soon after Civil War and sent to the Raft. Tony discovers that trying to appease your enemies doesn’t work and ends up a prisoner too.

Down Came the Rain by captainoutoftime (@captain-outoftime) (Explicit, 75,274 words)

Summary: A mission goes badly for Natasha, who is discovered de-aged to three years old. She recognizes no one, but every kid knows Captain America. When Tony grudgingly makes a call, Steve makes good on his promise to answer. Steve has to work together with Tony to take care of a traumatized child and figure out how to turn their itsy bitsy spider back into a Black Widow. Neither of them really want to talk about what happened in Siberia, but living in close quarters, they have to come to some sort of peace - even if it means addressing some feelings they'd rather not admit to having. As they work together to solve the problem of a re-emerging Red Room, Steve uncovers something he never expected to find again: family.

Hating Steve Rogers by nanasekei (@elcorhamletlive) (Not Rated, Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, 16,243 words)

Summary: The thing about hating Steve Rogers is that it shouldn’t be easy - but it really, really is.

I Have Questions by YourFadedGlory (HisNameWasAce) (@yourfadedglory) (Not Rated, 2,808 words)

Summary: There is only so much that Steve can carry. His legs quiver and his heart aches, he looks skyward, and in a startling moment of clarity he lets the shield go. Gouged and battered, it rings like a bell when it hits the stone floor. He wonders for a split moment if it will weigh on Tony the way it has weighed on him.

The Crying Game by fohatic (@fohatic) (Explicit, Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, 36,403 words)

Summary: Steve Rogers stared at the dimly glowing digital screen of the little burner phone, rereading the text message as if it might somehow give away something he missed the first dozen times he scrutinized it. His frown only deepened, though, brows drawing together with consternation as the 88 characters only left him with an even more ponderous sense of uncertainty. If you meant what you wrote, I'll be at the Swissotel Sarajevo, 4/18. Presidential Suite. 9pm. Come alone. ...Nearly a year after Steve and Tony's fallout—and only weeks after press rumors that Tony and Pepper's engagement was inexplicably called off—Steve gets a message on the dedicated burner phone. Despite his instinctive reservations, he's compelled to answer the mysterious call. An approximately canon-compliant story.

the hope that kills you by meidui (@meidui) (Mature, 1,227 words)

Summary: Steve used to go on so much about freedom and choice. If we sign this, we surrender our right to choose. Some of the freedom he loved was big, big enough for him to lay his life down for over and over, and some of the freedom he loved was small, like the wind in his hair when he took his motorcycle out, but now he has to sob and take it when Tony sucks a deep flowering bruise where his prison uniform couldn’t possibly cover and whispers in his ear, “Who’s gonna help you now? Where are you gonna run?”

live for the hope of it all by meidui (@meidui) (Mature, No Archive Warnings Apply, 1,880 words)

Note: This is a sequel to the hope that kills you

Summary: “You can keep me here, can’t you?” Steve asks a little desperately as Tony kneels over him, spreading himself out all the better for Tony to take. He must have really hated his cell on the Raft, Tony thinks before he loses himself in Steve’s body, and for a little while, everything is the same as it has been for the past six months. It’s only after, in the dark and quiet of his own bedroom with Steve sprawled sleepy and heavy across his chest that Tony realises— This is their cell now.

The Phone by AvengersNewB (@avengersnewb) (Mature, 9,039 words)

Summary: Tony hates the flip phone Steve sends him, but he keeps it close at all times, and it never rings until it finally does and the news might help put things into perspective - Captain America : Civil War fix-it. or The phone can't take the place of your smile. [podfic added as chapter 2]

the things we invent when we are scared by nanasekei (@elcorhamletlive) (Not Rated, 18,305 words)

Summary: Steve is trapped in a dream machine, programmed to make him believe he's living his happiest fantasy. Tony goes inside to wake him up, but what he finds is a lot more complicated than he expected.

there's nothing but blue skies by Meatball42 (Mature, Major Character Death, 647 words)

Summary: “This isn’t good,” Steve said grimly.