#here is some c o n t e n t
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deus-ex-mona · 11 months ago
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real talk: lxl should continue to explore romance fantasy concepts in their songs. it’s clearly working for them~
#typical prince aesthetics in romeo/julieta and nonfan… and now historical rofan in meoto…#(and there’s also whatever’s going on in tsuki no hime but that has no mv :( sadge)#sorry guys i still have meoto on the brain pls suffer with me~~~~~~~~~#but mannnnn. i was struck by sudden inspiration for a meoto au a n d#well. ig now i understand why they skipped over the falling in love phase. romance is hardddd#i want to subscribe to the meoto expansion pack p l s i need to know what their deal is~~~~#bc man. how in the world did they go from complete indifference to promising to stay together forever hello#what happened???????? excuse???????????#man. m a n. ok i think im done for the night. i hope#LXL MEOTO CRISIS 2K24#(but if anyone here wants to get into the otome isekai genre in general… i recommend starting off with ✨s u r v i v i n g r o m a n c e✨#(it’s a great story and it’s still modernised enough to ease into the genre. and after that…)#(you can just go for the series with the most interesting premise/prettiest art/both tbh)#(though i personally recommend ✨the perks of being an s class heroine✨ ✨the villainess’s stationery shop✨ for milder content)#(and there’s also some series with both isekai and regression.)#(like they isekai after their 1st life in 20xx-> live out their 2nd life in the fantasy world -> regress to a point in their 2nd life)#(for that type i kinda like ✨i shall master this family✨ though ngl i’m mostly reading it bc i think the aunt is very pretty)#(a nd there’s the occasional modern regression story but that’s pretty soap drama-esque and the one i read got ridiculous at times lmao)#(but ofc the ones with less romance focus are fun too~~~~ like stories with multiple isekai-ed people for one)#(b u t i digress i think i’ll stop here before i lose the plot any longer ahaha~~~~)
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thegoldenelite · 1 month ago
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I can't wait for Dynamite on Wednesday...bc I NEED to know what Kenny's vibes are...
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biitchcakes · 9 months ago
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SPIDER-WOMAN: ORIGIN Iss 3 ┃ SPIDER-WOMAN Vol. 7 Iss 20
( personals DNI. )
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koushirouizumi · 7 months ago
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vimeo
{YU-GI-OH!} Duel Monsters ~ A.M.V {Anime Music Video} ~ Yuugi & {Ace!}Yami (Atem) [reading in {+Aro}-Ace!Yami is also fine] {Just please respect my own headcanons too!} + Background {Jounouchi x Yuugi} {Wishshipping}; {+Pier Duel} "Omokage" Music (C) Megumi Hayashibara; (+from) Shaman King Ending Theme #2 Spoiler Info: - Leads up to near beginning-mid "DOMA" Arc {Anime-Only sequences; not included in original manga} - D.M. Only Eps (no original "Toei" series here) - Some very quick stuff from Battle City {vs. Malik}
*Any Lip-sync'ng was unintentional {+Any similar Might be removed in any future remake}
YU-GI-OH! (C) Kazuki Takahashi "Original {Anime} series" (C) Toei Animation Yu-gi-oh! Duel Monsters {Anime} (C) Studio Gallop This is a FANWORK. No $$$ is being made off this work.
{A.M.V. by (Young) Me} {DO NOT RE-POST} {DO NOT COPY} {DO NOT RE-PRODUCE MY WORKS UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCES WITHOUT MY PERMISSION}
(Note: This is an OLD work {10+ yrs old}. and one of my 1st/oldest YGO DM AMVs of the timeframe. The footage used will reflect this, as it was made before widespread transition into H.D. Footages. Please be understanding.) [There may be intent for me to remake it someday!]
Note: -This video’s embed may randomly not display at times, Showing like it’s “down”, but it’s not at this time! {It usually happens late at night[s] or seemingly when Tumblr and/or Vimeo is experiencing very high traffic} If that happens, please consider watching the Direct link here!
{I am NOT taking new AMV Requests (+for this series) at this time. Please DO NOT Ask!}
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wyrdweavings · 2 days ago
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In case anyone out there needs a copy
The U.S. Constitution, pasted in from the copy at the U.S. National Archives (you never know when the site might be taken down): We the People of the United States, in Order to form a more perfect Union, establish Justice, insure domestic Tranquility, provide for the common defence, promote the general Welfare, and secure the Blessings of Liberty to ourselves and our Posterity, do ordain and…
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amourcheol · 2 months ago
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ave, general
❝The Eagle of Rome has returned to you at last.❞
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historical! au | fluff, smut, crack | 16.1k words
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s u m m a r y : after your husband returns from the wars in foreign lands, you could not be more proud to see him be the shining pride of rome. however, even among the celebrations and your own personal news, lee jihoon only wanted one thing—some time alone with you.
c o n t e n t : roman! au, roman general! jihoon, husband! jihoon, father! jihoon, mother! mc, a lot of historical background and roman terms to add historical accuracy, soldiers! bss + wonwoo and chan, this is bss and friends, all of them are so annoying it's a wonder they aren't executed, seungcheol is, in a literal sense, a baby, this is a bullying chan campaign, the soldiers do NOT know how to talk to a baby, domesticity <333 mature content ↠ mentions of loss of loved ones, descriptions of war and death, dirty talk, petnames (my love, my sweet, darling, mea vita), fingering, oral sex (f. receiving), slight exhibitionism, unprotected sex (roman contraceptives are dookie), multiple orgasming, slight aftercare
t a g l i s t : @hyuckworld @gyuswhore @lexyraeworld @moonlightwonu @spooky-goose1003 @dvalitaes @cookiearmy @lllucere @syluslittlecrows @mrsjohnnysuh @fancypeacepersona @thepoopdokyeomtouched @monstacheol @xabsolutelynothingx @kyeomiis @icecream-sundaes @peachytokki @jihanniecheol @ourkivee
a u t h o r ' s n o t e : she is here!! i promised myself i would release this once i've watched gladiator II and she is back...changed woman...i guess this is a belated bday present to jihoon? thank u for inventing music king </3 enjoy reading loves !!
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“WHERE IN JUPITER IS HE?”
The maid whined as she focused on the crowd once more—thousands of citizens gathered across in the Capitol, the road cleared for the procession about to occur. Giddy conversations of every man, woman and child flourished for a mile, and you had to hold onto the girl accompanying you to not be trodden over.
“Careful, mistress!” Myrtia, your servant, warned as you dared take a step at the edge of the hill. “They will be here any minute now!”
You did not listen, holding onto your heavy shawl tighter as you waited in earnest of what was to happen. Rome was a city of chaos, but you did not hear the noise—despite the crowds, the instruments, the chanting, every single voice seemed irrelevant as you stood over the Capitolium. The little houses underneath you swirled around the hill, all evolving the temple behind you, the destination of the people about to be welcomed. Columned buildings made of stone and marble surrounded the crowds, speckled with garlands, its bright colours of vermillion shining in the summer sun. 
A small sigh left your lips. Today was the day he would come back home to you.
“By the gods!” Myrtia let out an excited screech, grabbing onto your arm and pointing towards the empty street, barricaded by the people. “They’re here, they’re here!”
Following her finger, you stared at the scene.
That was when the parade entered. 
Screams of elation spanned across the crowd as thousands of soldiers flooded in tight ranks, accepting the cheers with pride as they marched along, prisoners of war being dragged along by their chains. There must have been hundreds, spanning back beyond your vision, dirtied and haggard, but that was the consequence of challenging the Empire. The soldiers all adorned their red and silver uniform, smiling at the city which welcomed them.
Your eyes scanned the front of the parade, lips curving at the five men on decorated horseback. Each and every one of them had their distinguishable responses towards the people who sang praises to them, and you longed to see them ride up to the Hill where you could greet them.
When your gaze hovered to what rode in front of the men, it widened.
Four horses, adorned in the finest metals and blood-coloured clothing, led the chariot of the same colour, fully festooned in laurels. Gold swirls cemented on its front, making itself heard with its screeching wheels.
It was not the chariot you cared about.
No, it was the man who stood in it.
The man who was clothed in royal purple and gold, holding a laurel branch in one hand and a sceptre in the other. The man, whose wild black hair perfectly settled the golden crown that another beside him held. The man, whose ghost of a smile sent the crowd in absolute frenzy, beginning up a chant to his name.
“Hurrah for the Triumph!”
“Hurrah for the Triumph!”
“Hurrah for the Eagle!”
Your heart stopped to a standstill.
At last. At long last, the Eagle of Rome had come back to its nest.
“Mistress, look!” Myrtia exclaimed, pointing towards the star of the show, the lead victor in this parade. “Your husband achieved the Triumph!”
You glanced at her with unadulterated pride before focusing on the man in front, coming closer in your vision as he began the ride up the hill. The Triumph. A public celebration of a certain general who managed to lead Rome to a special, foreign victory. It meant the destruction of the enemy, complete desolation, which a mere centurion could not simply achieve. To receive the Triumph was to be respected by the highest of the Roman officials. 
You smiled at the notion. The destination for the parade was the Temple of Jupiter behind you, its columns holding up the huge, faded roof, towering over the few beloved relatives of the generals that led the soldiers. “I never doubted he would.”
The crowds grew wilder as the generals journeyed closer, halfway up the rocky hill—everyone opened their doors, leaving their houses to witness the rare spectacle. “Do you think they would let us speak to them?” your maid wondered out loud, following your steps as you turned your back, walking to the Temple. Standing right beside the steps, upstaged till they reached your height. “Gods, I forgot how big the temple is sometimes!”
“Wait here,” you said, holding onto the polished stone as you climbed up the steps. The thundering sounds of hooves on cobblestone entered your ears, and the few other relatives which accompanied you silenced, joy in their faces as the parade ascended. You turned before the show, the entire building shading you with its presence.
There he was.
With his four white horses slowing, neighing wildly at the company that arrived at the hill. With his red and golden chariot inciting excited Latin from the crowd, there he was, swiping past in front of his friends. The horses finally stopped, just before the steps, and the generals behind him followed suit, halting their own as they waited for their commander.
Their commander let go of the reins—stepped down from the chariot, purple robe flowing after the steps. The head that wore the crown turned to the Temple, laurel and sceptre still in his hands.
His calculating eyes skimmed the crowd, face exposing a little pride at the turnout.
He then faced his destination—right on you his stare settled, standing alone at the entrance.
You swore you saw his entire body still.
You were not wrong. The commander parted his mouth, eyes widening with who welcomed him past the steps. Gods, he nearly dropped the possessions in his hands, staring and staring at the woman.
No, not just a mere woman.
But you, his wife.
One of the generals, instantly noticing their leader’s change, got off his horse, same black hair glinting in the sun. He walked over, taking the objects from his hands, smiling knowingly. 
When the leader’s hands were free of the spoils, he willed his feet across the sanded street, first step atop the stairs. His gaze never wavered, unable to stray from the woman who haunted his nights. 
You, however, could not wait at all.
A choked sob escaped you as your own feet dashed forward, barely able to control themselves as you ran to him. His arms began to raise as you collided against him, wrapping your hands around his neck and crying into his purple-clad chest.
“Missed you...Jihoon…” your muffled murmurs slipped into his attire. “Missed you...so much.”
You felt strong arms envelop you, a rough-hewn face burying into your shoulder. “I thought of you everyday, mea vita.”
Mea vita. My life. A smile caught onto your tears as you hugged him tighter. “And I thought of you every night.”
He returned it, feeling his lips curve upon your skin. Placing a small kiss, he pulled away slightly, only to take your face with one of his hands and lean in closer. Enveloping your lips with yours, he kissed you with the longing of a thousand lost souls, finally returned to their other half. 
A soft groan threatened to leave your captured mouth, but then you felt your husband pull away, hands upon your waist. “I must stop here, my love, or I would not be able to stop afterwards.”
Cheeks burning, you did not let go of him. “Are you not finished?”
Shaking his head, he looked beyond you, to inside of the Temple. “I have to pay respects. It is the final part of the ceremony.” He turned to you again, aching to take you before the sacred grounds. “I cannot have you waiting for me that long.”
You were to object until the raven-haired boy behind him spoke up, waving his hand about. “We can escort her home, Jihoon,” he suggested, patting his general on the shoulder. “We do not need to go inside.”
“Are you sure, Wonwoo?” your husband asked, looking towards the other four. 
One of the centurions, with straight, cropped black locks framing his face, grinned smugly, holding onto his reins. “Oh, just let her leave with us!” he exclaimed. “We all know she missed us more than your stone-cold arse!”
You chuckled as Jihoon knifed the man with a glare. “A few hours in Rome, and Soonyoung is already a pain in my backside.”
The younger centurion beside Soonyoung scoffed, brown locks being caressed by the wind. “As if he is not a bother for us all.”
Soonyoung mocked a gasp. “Seungkwan!”
“Everyone, quiet down!” Another man declared, eyes closed and head raised in pride. “We all know our Captain’s wife wishes to ride with me.”
Soonyoung began to chortle at the claim. “_____, you might as well walk home than take Seokmin’s offer,” he mused, earning a near-death experience with a dagger thrown at him. 
Raising a brow at the bickering group, you raised a finger. “You know what? I think I shall ride with Chan.”
The said-boy perked up, eyes widening. “Me?” He asked, dumbfounded. “Well, of course, I just—”
“He would fall asleep mid-journey!” Seungkwan complained, crossing his arms. “It is already past his bedtime!”
“Hey!” Chan chimed in, but it did not help that he looked away, trying to stifle a yawn. Seungkwan pointed and laughed, proving his stupid point. 
“Enough!” Jihoon shouted, silencing them all instantly. “If _____ says she wants to go with Chan, then that is final.”
All of them began to complain, but one warning glare from their commander had them quieting like scolded children. Chan, being the one chosen, began to smile in innocent satisfaction, earning the evil wrath of Seokmin and Seungkwan. Soonyoung merely shrugged, whereas Wonwoo put a hand on his chest, heartily agreeing with his commander.
You glanced at the man in charge, looking as ever the victor in his royal robes. “Come home soon.”
Stealing another kiss from you, he squeezed your sides in comfort, smiling in reassurance. “I already am home, vita.”
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THE LEGACY COMMANDERS ALWAYS KNEW HOW TO MAKE THE MOST NOISE.
Throughout the half-hour journey, the five men talked of their lives for the near-two years they were away—the battles they had won, and the siege they had laid over Alexandria, where Mark Antony and Cleopatra were finally defeated.
Chan glanced back every five minutes to check you were stable on horseback, urging you to hold tight whenever a rockier road was being taken. You patted him softly where you rested your hands upon him, showing him you were well. “Do not fret over me, dearest,” you assured him, earning an uneasy chuckle from him.
Unfortunately, the few centurions, riding right beside you two, heard your reassurance, and instantly resorted to striking fear. “Hanging onto Chan for dear life will not help you!” Seungkwan remarked loudly. “One wrong bounce of the horse and he is flying off!”
The youngest of the men, on instinct, tightened his hold on the horse, now fearing he would drive his commander’s wife to her death. Soonyoung laughed at the scene, but set his sights on the next youngest down. “Seungkwan should not be talking,” he crowed, galloping further ahead. “Pray tell us, how much denarii did you borrow off Wonwoo to heal your broken leg? You know, after you tripped over a tent rope?”
“Careful, Soon,” Seokmin exclaimed over the horses’ hooves. “Or Seungkwan will not hesitate to call on all the escorts you went bankrupt over in Egypt!”
Soonyoung immediately whirled his head to you, who eyed him incredulously. “_____, it is an exaggeration!” he deflected. “It was only one visit, merely to see what the women were like—!” 
“Is it true, Wonwoo?” you asked, who was fighting back a grimace at his friend’s endeavours. “Is our dear centurion as scandalous as he’s accused to be?”
The answer was swift. “Soonyoung’s cock is as clean as the city sewers.” 
As everyone cackled, the guilty flushing with embarrassment, he quickly switched the conversation to everyone’s adventures while on the road to Alexandria. Soonyoung did most of the storytelling, with Seokmin chipping in with great pride—Seungkwan had to tell the two of them off when they exaggerated their military prowess, while Wonwoo only laughed, narrating the truth of their adventures. Whatever they told you, though, you knew that they came out victorious.
The Legacy Legion was destined for greatness—especially if Jihoon Park commanded it.
By the time they were done, you had arrived at your villa, almost on the outskirts of Rome. The huge estate had been gifted to your husband by his superior, Octavian, who was thankful for the continuous loyalty he had seen from the Legion. Its exterior towered over the five horses, guards opening the gates to let you and your friends inside.
The estate was basked in whites and greys, roof the colour of baked bricks adding vibrancy to the faded walls. When entering, you were met with your bustling courtyard, servants hard at work with preparations for Jihoon's return. Within the four walls were different rooms which served different purposes—you could smell the different breads and meat being cooked on a slow heat, taking their time to be fully made. The boys began to salivate at the aroma, and when you felt Chan’s stomach grumble beneath your fingers you reined in a laugh, waiting for him to heave off before helping you down as well. 
“Take the horses to the stables,” you ordered one of the servants walking past you, who nodded, shouting for other men to come and help him. 
Seokmin groaned as he sniffed the air again, holding his armour-clad stomach. “I cannot take this any longer!” He whined, stomping to where the smell took him. “____, I must have cena now or so help me Ceres!”
“Stop complaining about lunch!” Seungkwan crowed. “I gave you half of my breakfast, and you pinched Chan’s bread too!” 
“Here we go again,” Wonwoo mumbled. He then heard grumbling in his abdomen, and knew he could not argue against his body. 
You watched the absolute creatures in tenderness, and waved them all over. “Come,” you began, walking inside the first door. “I wish to show you something.”
“This better be some roasted boar!” Soonyoung grumbled, earning a jab in the arm from Wonwoo.
The destination was not far, and with one further turn, you ended up in a smaller, yet spacious room, golden sunlight streaming through the windows. You ushered the boys in, taking up the entire space, and they were all about to complain when you showed them.
Every single man in the room melted at the sight.
“By the gods!”
“Tell me it is not an illusion!”
“This is a better sight than roasted boar!”
Laughing, you put a hand to your lips. “Not so loud now! Jihoon is not aware of this yet, and I wish to tell him myself.”
“Of course!” Wonwoo agreed, eyes dancing. “By Jupiter, he would be overjoyed!”
“I hope so,” you voiced out your wishes, glancing at the surprise. 
The boys were about to say more when they heard the distant sounds of thundering hooves near the villa, and everyone stilled. 
“Quick!”
“Everyone get out of here!”
“Seungkwan, move—”
The five greatest centurions of Rome scrambled to get out of the tiny bedroom, rushing into the courtyard where Jihoon now made his entrance, crown still upon his head. He saw the rather guilty exit of his men, and raised a brow at their strange behaviour.
“What are you all—” he was about to ask, but then the boys dashed towards him, each grabbing his arm and pushing him to their last destination. “Wait, hold on—!”
“This is of extreme importance, we assure you!” Wonwoo simpered, knowing his end was near with the behaviour he and his friends upkept. 
“Even more important than lunch!” Soonyoung added.
“Even more important than roast boar!” Seokmin chimed in.
Jihoon was about to throw them off when they pushed him into the small room, waving excitedly at you. “We will be looking for food!” Seungkwan called from the door, and Chan looked at you apologetically before following after his friends. 
Watching them busy themselves, he turned to you, cocking his head. “What was all that for?” 
“They are terrible actors, but they had good intentions.” You then bit your lip, glancing beside you. “Actually, they brought you here for a reason.”
“Oh?” He took a step forward. 
Nodding your head, you put your hand upon the stone. “Jihoon, while you were gone, I had a life-changing experience.”
Furrowing his brows, he put his hands on his hips. “And that was?”
Exposing a little smile, you ushered him closer, gazing down at the said-experience.
“My love, I gave birth to our son.”
You felt Jihoon’s world still for a moment.
Within seconds after, he closed the distance to the cot, following your gaze.
There, wrapped in blankets, lay a small baby, lost in sleep.
The general did not know what to say.
He could only watch the little bundle of life as he dreamed of things which he could not understand, tiny lips brushing against his tiny thumb. The man’s heart began to race at the sight of his closed eyes, the flutter of his lashes as he stirred in slumber. 
So innocent the baby was—so vulnerable that he wondered whether people of his time even knew what innocence meant.
He thought all good had withered from the world till his eyes beheld this child. His son.
“It was he that helped me cope with your absence Jihoon,” you continued, and you did not know why it began to hurt to talk. “You see, the boy looks so much like you.”
Your husband’s eyes flickered to you, catching the melancholy in your stare. He knew—of course he knew how you felt about him hardly being here.
You could not blame him, though. With a position of such esteem came great responsibility, which he would risk his life to fulfil. It was his honour, his undeterred loyalty in what he believed in, that made you fall so deeply in love with him. Still, you admitted that life was barely liveable without his magnetic presence near you.
He propped his hands on the edge of the cot. “May I...may I hold him?” 
“Of course,” you replied, slowly pulling the boy in your arms, cooing softly so he stayed asleep. When you were sure he was peaceful, you held him out to your husband, who took a deep, shuddering breath.
With shaking hands, he raised them towards his son, feeling the soft cotton of his blanket beneath his fingertips. Staring at Jihoon, you made sure that he would not let go—satisfied, you gave him the stirring bundle.
Another hard sigh escaped him.
The child, on instinct, nuzzled further into his hold, right into his chest, and he knew his answer straight away. His heart fluttered nervously, holding his breath to not wake him. It was so bizarre that his nerves heightened with every second, fearing he would let go—his sword was heavier than this child, yet his hold on him was shaky, uncertain. 
He wondered if he could ever get used to this feeling.
There were sensations he had experienced which brought him immense joy. His victories, his commandeering of the Roman legions, the subsequent victories that were guaranteed under his leadership. His centurions, who, despite their incessant complaining, shouting, general presences, were the catalyst to his success. You, who was behind the man that he was, and became—the reason he breathed. 
A small murmur escaped the little boy, and all the love Jihoon had lost these years had come back.
He was never the one to expose such extreme emotions, but gazing at the baby brought him such…peace. In truth, he had not felt peace in a long, long time, yet the feeling washed over him, like small waves upon the shores of a beach. Each twitch of his fingers, every kick of his feet brought his soul to a standstill, then revived it once more. 
He contributed to this creation. He was half the reason for the slumbering life in his hands.
His stare did not leave his son. “What did you name him, vita?”
Your gaze was rooted to him as you answered.
“Seungcheol.”
Jihoon’s rocking froze. 
His eyes darted towards you, and the pure shock which emitted had your heart breaking. His mouth parted, only for silence to welcome his tongue. 
It was now your hands which held onto the cot.
Seungcheol was not some ordinary name you thought up on the hour of the birth.
No, this name was originally held by the previous leader of the Legacy Legion.
Most importantly, the name was held by yours and Jihoon’s dearest friend.
Choi Seungcheol was a sweet, charismatic boy who had grown up in the same neighbourhood as you and Jihoon. He was the nail in your house of the trio, and the mastermind of the romance which weaved between the two of you. 
He had an incredibly bright future ahead of him. Under Octavian’s army he had achieved the title of primus pilus—the leadership of an entire legion—with all of the boys, including Jihoon, under his command. He was an advocate of justice, and had risked his friends many times for defending the rights of Rome and her citizens against tyrants.
It was these very tyrants that brought about his downfall.
Jihoon was never meant to leave your side these past two years. He was meant to stay in Rome under Octavian, but the rivalry against Mark Antony had crossed lines, and war was about to be waged. Seungcheol, forever the hero, vowed his undeterred loyalty to the former, and promised to shed Mark Antony’s blood.
That very night, the commanders of the Legacy Legion were celebrating the war when a group of assassins launched an ambush—the five of them managed to cut out and leave, but Jihoon was on the verge of death fighting. Your husband was to die that night.
That was when Seungcheol made a sacrifice. 
He hollered at the assassins to fight him, giving Jihoon the chance to escape. Your husband begged him to run, but he knew his friend would not listen. 
When Jihoon saw the dozen daggers slash into Seungcheol’s chest, he could not let the sacrifice go to waste.
It was this act that brought him the rage to accept command of the Legacy Legion. It was this dire need of vengeance that helped him cope with the months of stalemates across Egypt, when he thought Mark Antony was to escape.
It was Choi Seungcheol’s sacrifice that made Lee Jihoon the Eagle of Rome. 
Thinking of this particular past had your vision stinging.
Jihoon scoffed, stroking his baby’s brow. “Imagine how smug he would be now,” he mused, “If he knew we named our son after him.”
The thought had you rasping out a laugh. “Gods, we would never hear the end of it.”
He cracked a smile, gaze never straying from his bundle. He grew silent once again, clamping his lips together. Scared to wake him if he rocked him further, Jihoon settled the boy back into the pillowed cot, blinking back the stinging in his eyes. 
He turned to you, and seeing his change of expression had you stepping closer. “Darling?” you got out, your hands raising to touch his face. “What troubles you?”
Shaking his head, he wrapped his fingers around your wrist. Leaning into your palm, he replied, “Nothing troubles me, vita.”
Then, he pressed a small kiss upon your skin. “I have no more troubles now that I have seen him…and I have him because of you.”
His gaze settled upon you, eyes glossed with teary gratitude. “Thank you, my love, for bringing me peace.”
The words nearly made you cry.
Jihoon did not let you, though, when, with his other hand sliding around your waist, he pulled you to him. He enveloped his lips with yours, and with a whine you accepted him, closing your eyes. The kiss you shared was achingly soft, seething with months upon months of longing—he turned your head slightly, and his lips delved deeper, taking you fully with the strength of a waking beast. 
His hands dug deeper into your sides, feeling the desperation seep into his lips as he slowly pushed you back, your arms closing about his neck, needing him all over you. Sliding your hands within his locks, you revelled in its velvety softness, knowing you could live forever in him. 
The action had your husband humming into your mouth, a perfect incentive as he backed you against the wall, pressing himself fully against you, extinguishing any last atom of space between you two. You could not get enough of him, trying to make up months of his absence in this kiss alone, but you wanted more, needed more, or you would collapse in his arms.
It was fortunate for you that he understood you perfectly.
However, your dear friends did not understand at all, bursting into the nursery in utmost hurry.
Five pairs of eyes rooted to the passionate scene before them.
Chan let out a shrill scream.
You and Jihoon repelled from each other, breathless gasps emitting as both of you whirled your heads to the door. The five centurions gathered at the doorway, stunned at the show that went on before they interrupted.
Seokmin let out a groan, clutching his stomach. “I regret eating that entire boar now,” he rasped out, turning away from the panting couple. Seungkwan elbowed him harshly in the gut, making the former double over.
Soonyoung sauntered in, stepping past you two in mighty fashion. “You both are insufferable!” he yelled, bringing out baby Seungcheol and rocking him in his arms. “Carrying out such atrocities with a child nearby?”
“I apologise for the disturbance, general,” Wonwoo said, glaring at the man who now cooed comically at the baby. “We were just...um, we were to ask ____ of the plans tonight.”
“But y-you seem to be very preoccupied!” Chan added, pulling the men near him away from the door. “So we shall not disturb you again!”
“You should have thought about that before,” your husband hissed. “And what do you mean by plans?”
“For your return,” you answered, smiling a little as you regained your composure. “It has been too long since you stepped foot at home. Of course I am to celebrate.”
“And do we not exist to you?” Seungkwan demanded, armoured hands at his hips. “You include Jihoon only as if we were here in Rome partying this entire time!”
“I wished that were the case,” Soonyoung drawled, stepping beside you, swaying the baby the entire time. “I would rather the company of wine than you foul-smelling bastards anyday.”
Seokmin, recovering, scoffed, pointing a finger at his fellow centurion. “Oh, do let us know then, Soonyoung, who was calling us his dearest friends on the march to Alexandria?”
“That does not count!” he countered, waving off the claims. “I was beyond gone from wine, and everyone spews rubbish when drunk.”
“You spew rubbish anyway,” Wonwoo muttered.
“You are lucky I am holding Jihoon’s child right now, or I would have knocked you out.”
“Just Jihoon’s child?” you crossed your arms. “And what if you were holding someone else’s baby?”
There was a pause at that. “I shall not comment further.”
“Enough!” the general ordered, silencing the bickering group. “Out, the lot of you! Go back to your own homes and leave us alone!”
“But _____ said we can stay here and help with preparations!” Wonwoo voiced out, stepping forward in haste. 
“I never said that!”
“Please, Jihoon,” he continued anyway, “I have no wish to dump all responsibility on her.”
The said-man pursed his lips in thought, clearly in no hurry to keep his friends when he could be using this precious time to continue what he left off with you. Already his hands ached to linger further over your body, but if he was disturbed once again, then he would kill his subordinates without hesitance.
Seokmin stopped his train of thought. “Personally, I have no wish to do housework,” he jeered. 
Your husband then smiled, which was more a flash of teeth. “Brilliant. You can piss off back home, then.” He then directed his threatening stare towards the others. “All of you.”
Five pairs of eyes turned to you, hoping for your objection on the matter. However, you only shrugged, holding out your hands to the man beside you. “General’s orders, I fear.” When a series of groans followed at your verdict, you took Seungcheol from Soonyoung’s hands. “Do not whine like that, friends! I am giving you the chance to have more fun before tonight’s celebrations!”
“Whatever,” Seungkwan grumbled, turning his cloak as he stepped out of the room. “I am off to get more drinks! Anyone but Jihoon may join me.”
“Hey!” the commander shouted, but the men were already leaving, save for Chan, scratching the back of his head. 
Seokmin cocked his head in question at his friend’s stillness. “What are you standing here for, fool?”
“Well, um,” Chan started, his shy gaze levelling with yours. “I am not inclined to wine as of now, so I was hoping if I could...err, linger here and help around…” His eyes widened, raising his hands. “But if it is bothersome I will accompany the others!”
Your heart melted at his timidity. “What are you so nervous for? Of course you can stay. Those four idiots will only be causing trouble the entire afternoon.” 
“And we intend to continue such troubles at night as well!” Soonyoung declared, almost skipping to the entrance. “Honey wine, here I come!”
“Chan, are you sure?” Jihoon asked, gesturing towards the exiting group. “You should rest a little after months of fighting.”
“I am alright, I insist,” his soldier assured him, raising his arms. “Let me take care of the child.” When you obliged, handing him the stirring bundle, he slowed his movements, ever so careful not to disturb him. He darted his gaze over you. “You, uh,” he said, and he chuckled sheepishly, a blush rising upon his cheeks. “You both carry on with whatever you were doing before!”
Before you could say further, the man was hurrying out, forgetting to close the door as he took Seungcheol with him.
You and Jihoon watched him go, stunned at the sudden entrance of the centurions, and then the sudden exit within minutes. You could not help the huff of laughter that escaped you at their antics, catching his attention. “What is the laugh for?”
“Your commanders, darling,” you mused, wrapping an arm around your husband. “They are more bizarre than usual.”
Exhaling through his nose, he returned your embrace twice over, engulfing you within his hold. “My half-witted commanders,” he reminisced, running his fingers across your back. “They are delighted to be back.”
“I can tell,” you giggled out, leaning into him. “I missed them greatly.”
His face ghosted a little smugness. “But you missed me more.”
“You keep convincing yourself of the notion.”
Feeling his laughter reverberating off him, you felt yourself being pulled at arm’s length, looking up at him once more. Your husband leaned in then, gently pressing his forehead against yours. “No one is at home anymore, vita.”
A raise of your eyebrow. “Chan just asked me to stay here.”
“Oh, you know what I mean,” he insisted, brushing his nose with yours. “We are alone...with no one to bother us again…”
Much as you would like to follow his intentions, you feared the state of the pending party. It had been two years since the Eagle and his centurions’ return—their triumph will be celebrated without fault.
“Jihoon,” you murmured, taking great pains in retracting from his kisses. “I must go.”
His lips trailed down to your chin, making your willpower all the more weak. “Can you not spare me even an hour?”
If you could spare him half that hour, you would have gladly indulged him, but the party arrangements awaited. The soldiers, and your general, deserved the best of welcomes.
So you made yourself separate from his tempting hold, taking a few steps away from him. “I cannot offer even a second, my love.”
The man pretended to be beyond upset at your resistance. He waited till your feet landed on the entryway when he spoke.
“Perhaps it was better you did not give me a mere hour, vita.”
You looked back. Leaning against the stone cot, he let his lips curl upwards. “It simply would not suffice.”
The curiosity in your eyes had him further smirking. “I need an entire day to make up for the two years of absence from you.”
It was sheer luck you were holding onto the doorframe. 
“Careful, love,” he cooed, which only had you stumbling further out of the door in shock. His laughter followed you faintly as you left the room, blood rushing to your cheeks in drastic speed.
You hoped ardently, without shame, that he would carry out his intentions.
Then, you aggressively shook your head, heading straight to the kitchens. Not these thoughts at the moment, _____.
You have a party to prepare for.
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THE NIGHT OF THE WELCOMING ARRIVED AS QUICKLY AS YOU HAD HOPED.
The guests began to enter your estate as soon as the sun descended on the empire, bringing words of praise and gifts to your husband and his soldiers. Your pride swelled exceedingly at hearing the positive messages, encouraging everyone to drink to their health. The smiles did not cease, widening further when the men and women fawned over your child. They wished for your baby to grow up just like the man he was named after, and you smiled, scared that one word from you would have your tears gushing.
You had everyone lay on their seated beds, surrounding tables filled with nourishment. Orders spilled from your lips to never stop the plates of beef and veal and fish and infinite other meats—tonight, your guests would feast like emperors. 
Eventually, the stars of the legion arrived, howling in celebration at seeing you adorned in indigo-coloured finery. You reckoned that they had drunk a fountain’s worth before showing up here, but you only hauled them inside, showing them to their place—cushioned couches all set up around low, circular tables, food nearly toppling off the edges. 
Seokmin drooled at the sight. “Out of the way, bastards!” He declared, running straight for the bedding in the middle part of the cushioned arc, settling himself nicely before digging in instantly. “Tell your slave Chan to bring us some wine!”
As if on cue, the soldier came rushing in with huge jugs of the featured drink, looking at you. “Is this alright?”
“Of course, Chan,” you said, taking the jugs from him. “Now you lay beside your friends! You have helped me enough.”
“Where is that man of yours, my lady?” Soonyoung drawled, snatching a cup of honey wine from the servants. “He did not accompany us this afternoon.”
“He had to go meet Octavian,” you answered, the rest of the centurions lodging themselves on the cushions. “There were honours he had to receive from him before he could officially celebrate here.”
“As long as he gets drunk with us, I do not mind,” Wonwoo voiced, raising his cup in toast. 
Seokmin, seeing Chan looking around in embarrassment, poured a cup full of alcohol and pushed it in his hand. “Drink up, boy! I am not having you shy away from your victories!”
The latter seemed much inclined to throw away the wine, but his friends began to groan. “Fine, fine, but only a sip!”
Seungkwan downed his cup, sighing into it. “He will never grow up.”
Wonwoo eyed you with concern as he plucked a grape from its pack. “Will you not have a rest with us?”
“You men have your fun,” you insisted. “I will settle when Jihoon comes home.”
Fortunately, that did not take more than ten minutes, you catching the sound of hooves outside the estate. Footsteps sounded from the entrance, and you whirled to see your new arrival.
The primus pilus of the Legacy Legion looked every bit his title—regal, powerful, magical in his purple robes, hemmed with gold as it draped over his loose white shirt, exposed on his right arm. His locks, longer than his hair months ago, curled slightly along his neck, roughening his usual soldierly demeanour.
Squealing, you rushed to him, greeting him with a kiss. “Come, come!” You exclaimed, ushering him inside.
“The general’s arrived!” Seokmin before you with the others following, albeit with more difficulty.
Jihoon directed a soft smile at you before sneering at his friends. “At least finish chewing on your food, you babies.”
“Care about your own baby before calling us such, you prick!”
“You are very lucky you are drunk, Wonwoo!” 
“Sit with them,” you said, tugging him to a free space between subordinates. 
As your husband obliged, he let his curiosity wander. “And where are you off to?”
Your gaze went beyond the dining hall, into the leeways that brought you to the kitchens. “I am a host, dear, and that means making sure all my guests are accommodated for.”
His grip on you was strong. “When will you come back?” He asked, thumb brushing over your hand.
You let your lips slip into a small smile. “Soon.”
And you were off, letting Jihoon’s eyes brush over you instead of his touch.
A few hours into the party and the chaos began.
You knew it was bound to happen eventually, with the amount of wine being consumed—your friends alone downed half the deposits, the consequences of such reckless drinking being exposed by their behaviour.
The centurions’ area was by far the loudest: Seokmin drank to the point he pissed in the jug that stored his wine, Seungkwan then threatening to topple that very jug atop his head. Soonyoung resorted to self-praise in his stupor, with Wonwoo shaking his head, yet laughing uncontrollably at every unfunny quip the former slipped out. Chan giggled as he sipped his alcohol, Jihoon watching all his friends with a full cup in his own hand. 
It was around midnight when you heard the voice of your beloved calling for you. 
“Vita!”
Excusing yourself from your tipsy guests, you walked to your dear men, who were creating a ruckus in your home. You felt soft fingers caress your shin within your dress, and you looked down to see your general smiling at you.
“Sit, my love,” he said, tugging you down to him. “You have made me wait a while.”
“Fine!” You exclaimed with mock exasperation, laying down next to him. 
He wrapped his arm around you, pulling you to him, your entire back pressed against his front. “There,” he whispered, and the proximity of his breath had chills running down your spine.
You hoped he could feel the warmth radiating off you.
“_____!” Seokmin exclaimed, pointing his cup at you in accusation, wine sloshing out and spilling. “I have a bone to pick with you!”
“Oh, gods,” Jihoon cursed quietly.
“So I found out from our esteemed general that you named your son Seungcheol.” The man scoffed. “How could you commit such an action?”
When you raised your eyebrows, he smirked in disbelief, gesturing towards himself. “My lady, I am offended you did not name him after me.”
Wonwoo spit out his drink, unable to control his laughter. Seungkwan poured himself some more, clicking his tongue in amusement. “Gods forbid we have another Seokmin in our circle.”
“Now what is that supposed to mean?” the man demanded, bunching his robes from his arms. 
“I know you are not that stupid,” was his sly answer. 
“Boys,” Jihoon seethed, glaring at the two about to send the estate down with their fists. “Lay off the anger or lay off the wine.”
Grumbling as they broke off their spat, you looked up at the mediator, swirling his cup. “You know you do not have to be a general here.”
Your husband hummed absent-mindedly, lazily running his hand along you. “I know, vita. Can I ever rest, though, when I have such rowdy dogs barking around me all the time?”
Chuckling, you leaned into him, his honey-like scent engulfing you. “Have you drank?”
“Only a little.” You felt a lilt to his voice as he continued. “Sober enough to see clearly how divine you look. Especially in this dress.”
You stilled as his hands began to wander downwards. 
Your voice barely came out as you said, “Jihoon, what…what are you doing?” 
He did not respond, instead adorning a small smile on his face as his fingers ghosted down your body, to your stomach. On instinct you stopped his trail with your own hand, gripping his wrist. “Jihoon!” you hissed. “There are people right beside us!”
“People who do not know what is going on around them,” he added, gesturing to his friends. Sure enough, each and every one of the centurions were out of their minds, save for Chan, who was too preoccupied trying to take away their drinks. 
Jihoon turned to you once more, eyes inviting. “I mean, I will stop if you wish.” His movements turned slower, your hand still on his. “If you have other…pressing matters.”
Your mind could only think of damning whatever ‘pressing matters’ there well to the underworld. Perhaps he could see it too. “If roaming eyes are what you fear,” he whispered, “Then let me solve that problem.”
In a flash, he brought one long slit of his toga, resting the huge sheet of fabric upon you so your entire body was cloaked, along with his wandering fingers. So casually he began his journey once more, widening your eyes with each finger spiralling downwards.
When he reached the spot, shielded only with your silk, his head rested softly against your neck. “There we go.”
He barely grazed the slit, but the very sensation had you squeezing your own hand upon his. “Easy, darling,” he whispered, as if he was not the reason for your change. “I haven’t even done anything and yet you falter.”
“Not my fault you went away for two years,” you hissed. It was a terrible thing to say, really, but your desire was bubbling. Your rationality, in turn, simply had to depart.
The comment only made your husband chuckle. “I was saving the Empire, vita.” His other hand, completely free, occupied itself, his solitary finger ghosting along your skin. “Would you rather I damn the world to the gods and serve at your feet instead?”
“As if you do not already,” you murmured, your hand loosening on his wrist. 
Earning another soft laugh from him, his new freedom had him sliding down further. “And where did this…newfound confidence come from?” he asked, one finger delving into your slit and eliciting a shuddered breath. “I’d only hear gasps from you before.”
His slow endeavours found your clit beneath the silk, and the seething gasp that tore from your mouth had the bastard sighing in satisfaction. “Ah, see?” He continued, his hand upon your shoulder now sliding beneath his cloak. It found refuge upon your breasts, perked from the sheer desire burning inside. “Fuck, I missed, I–” His fingers circled your clit, and you closed your eyes, heart beating rapidly underneath his other hand. 
Your breathing turned harsh, eyes darting to the members of your husband’s legion—completely unaware of the shuddering mess of nerves you had become. “Look at you,” Jihoon sighed out, fastening his fingers. “Acting out with our loved ones under this roof.” Your soft whines were music to his ears. “Whatever shall I do with you?”
“Maybe you should—fuck,” you cut off, your legs tensing, a dull, delicious ache growing at the small of your back. “Jihoon, I—”
Your line of speech was interrupted by another voice. You had hoped it would be your husband, taunting you further into oblivion, but it was a voice of pure concern.
“By the gods, _____, are you alright?”
You blinked back to see Chan, holding two glasses of wine, shaking off Soonyoung’s hands. Your eyes then widened, acutely aware of Jihoon’s fingers slowing, your release fading. 
Sly as an asp, your husband retracted his hands, still under his cloak. “What is the matter, dear friend?”
The centurion had his gaze fixed on you, confused at your state. “Is _____ okay, general? Her breathing, she…it sounds uneven. Even her eyes are dazed.”
Soonyoung, taking the lucky chance of his friend’s engrossment, snatched the wine from his hand, downing the bowl. “She is drunk, you fool!” he exclaimed, loud enough for Wonwoo to double over, cursing his rowdy mouth. “And you should be as well, instead of ruining our fun!”
“My lady, allow me to indulge you with wine,” Wonwoo sang out, trying to catch a jug of alcohol from thin air. 
Seungkwan snorted at his attempts, successfully stealing Seokmin’s drinks and chugging the lot. “Oi, you prick!” The latter yelled, nearly bringing the estate down. His friend merely laughed, calling him names and finishing the rest of the wine.
Chan, glancing for a moment away, focused on you once more. “Jihoon, I fear for _____.”
You feared for yourself too, but not in the manner the soldier spoke of—more your sanity at the pulsing, the near undoing now far from being reached. 
Jihoon pressed a kiss to your temple, smiling at Chan’s words, despite differing intentions. “You worry too much, Chan,” he said, beginning to get up from his cushions, taking you gently into his arms. “It is as Soonyoung says. Mea Vita here has had a drink too much.”
The centurion seemed a little unconvinced, but his trust for his commander outgrew any suspicions. Seokmin scoffed at the couple attempting to leave, shaking his bowl at you both. “And where are the lovebirds off to?” he demanded.
“Lady _____ is tired from the honey wine,” Chan explained. “Jihoon is helping her sleep.”
“Ha!” was the boy’s reply. 
“Are you really that dim-witted?” Seungkwan asked, laughing darkly at the youngest’s naivety. 
“Huh?” Chan glanced at his general.
The general declared to his guests, “I will be retiring with my wife, but enjoy until dawn, friends!”
Cheers arose from every corner of the estate, no doubt eager to live up to his request. Jihoon then rested his eyes on his soldier, who looked up at him with great bewilderment.
He only offered a sly wink before slipping into the hallways. 
Chan’s confusion only deepened. 
Soonyoung spluttered into laughter. “You poor fool!” 
Seungkwan’s smirk was prevalent as, taking the bowl filled with fresh honey wine from the tables, he sat beside Chan, offering him his first drink. “Let us educate you, dear man, on what exactly is about to happen between our general and his wife.”
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IT TOOK APPROXIMATELY TEN SECONDS BEFORE YOUR PATIENCE SNAPPED IN YOUR DARKENED HALLWAYS. 
You slapped your hands against Jihoon’s purple-clad chest, and tried to push him back into the stone wall. Of course, when one had the strongest general in the Roman Empire as a husband, physically overtaking them is an impossible action.
Which was why he began to laugh at your efforts before casually taking your wrists, whirling you about.  Suddenly your back was against the wall, with his face near inches from you. 
“Cannot control yourself for even a minute?” He purred, bringing your hands above your head. “Has the journey to our bedroom become too difficult?”
“Stop fucking about with me” you got out, aching to have your hands freed, touch his face, his lips, but he was too strong. 
The man leaned further. “No, vita…it has been too long.” 
He brushed his nose along with yours. “Don’t think I’ll be satisfied with simply fucking you against the wall.”
His words alone had your heart beating faster, eager to see how he would play the night out. It had been far too long since you had felt such promise of pleasure in these years.
“I won’t be either, general,” you mused, and the fire that sparked in Jihoon’s eyes could have very well brought you your undoing then. 
That was enough for him to swoop in, damning all sweetness to the underworld as he collided his lips with yours. 
You swore you could never tire of Jihoon’s lips as he moved hungrily, grip on your wrists tightening. A small noise lodged in the back of your throat, aching to be released but to no avail. His mouth refused to pull away, miss even a moment of how you felt against him. 
The years away made you realise how much you missed his touch—lips in sync, bodies snuffing out any distance left—you had no choice but to whine into his mouth, opening yourself up fully to him. You wanted him all, without a single drop of hesitation.
Feeling the exact same, he happily delved further, an eon-old kernel of fire singeing his lips and searing you with his desire. His tongue, catching onto his lust, slithered past your teeth, swirling your tongue with his and increased the volume of your moans. 
Gods, your moans, your little voices of passion were like victory trumpets to his ears, every single ah! or fuck! riling him further into a frenzy. He had not forgotten these glorious sounds when he was thousands of miles away, but it had been so fucking long since he had heard them in person, and not just his dreams.
So he relished in your moans. Completely engulfed himself in your bubble of desire as his one hand strayed from your wrists, skirting downwards along your body. Grabbing hold of your skirts, he raised them to your hips. He caught sight of your cunt, and he swore his mouth watered. 
“Stop it…stop stalling, Jihoon,” you seethed, soul almost withering in wait for your husband to ruin you already.
Fortunately for you, he was the most accommodating man.
His hand freeing yours, it journeyed downwards to the real treasure. Your eyes widened at his finger sliding inside you, and the pure, ethereal sensation of his touch finally attaining your cunt had you dazing off completely. Your mouth forgot all words, as if forgetting how to speak the languages which Jihoon whispered now on your skin.
With your hands gaining newfound freedom, they carded through his hair, finding refuge in the soft, growing locks, tidied for the party. You would have done more had Jihoon not circled your clit, and the delirious sensation was back—your legs nearly gave way, and you let out a whimper as you held onto him tightly, lest you fell at his feet. 
His sharp eyes caught onto your weakening state, slowing his ministrations. “How about I take this somewhere else?” He rasped in your ear. 
Not waiting for your answer, he slid his hands underneath your thighs and picked you up, you instinctively wrapping your legs around him. He did not cease his kisses, his tongue dancing inside your mouth while finding the door to the bedroom. 
He did not waste a single moment—kicking the door open with his foot, he settled you on the table right beside, throwing the objects to the floor. Giving you a small peck, he journeyed downwards, slowly kneeling before you while opening your legs.
His husky chuckling rang in your ears. “Gods, after so long…” he could not even finish, pressing airlight kisses upon your inner thigh, each phantom touch nearing the kernel of arousal. “So…fucking long…”
The minute he reached his destination his tongue slipped free of his mouth. Holding onto your thighs, he let himself take the last step.
His tongue sliding along your cunt had you melting on the table. 
You were certain the table had crumbled beneath you, the ground fading as your husband explored you, lapping up the arousal dripping since the moment he graced you with his touch. A satisfied noise left his occupied mouth, you tasting like the honey wine you poured for him not an hour ago.
This. This made fighting relentlessly for two years worth it. This made every single drop of blood, buckets of sweat and floods of tears worth it. Life was hard, torturous even away from Rome, from you, but all that dark anguish in the time lost between you two was worth it if this was his reward.
And Jihoon would make sure this, too, would be worth it for you.
His tongue found your clit, and if you were not a mess before, the tendrils of pleasure that came with reduced you to cinders. He circled the bud like a slow march, growing faster with each passing beat. You moaned his name, a mantra on your lips which only rang louder. 
“J-Jihoon,” you kept whimpering, and his tongue would circle faster. You begin to thrash against him, unable to sit still while he brought you such unadulterated thrill. You would have happily grinded against his face had his hands on your thighs not tightened, indicating to stop fidgeting.
In honesty you tried—you endeavoured to be composed, but the bastard made the task impossible. The writhing continued, and would have kept going had Jihoon not halted his actions.
You let out an agitated yelp. 
“I’m sorry, vita, but you have to stay still,” he replied, fingers running along your thighs. “Do you not want to enjoy this?”
His lips glistened as he spoke, courtesy of your cunt. With his head in between your thighs, he was a feast for your eyes. “Fuck, Jihoon, I…I already am.” 
Maybe he agreed that he was a fine feast, for he curved his shining mouth in a dark smirk, eyes not leaving yours as he slowly slung a leg over his shoulder. “Well then,” he began, repeating with the other leg, fingers skimming the naked skin. “Let me add to your pleasure.”
This time, when he dove in, he was relentless.
You gripped onto the edge of the table, fingers digging into the wood as he quickened the rhythm of his tongue, working on your bundle of nerves so deliciously you wondered how your soul still survived inside your body. 
The wondering stopped, your questions answered when his finger joined in on the ravishing, sliding inside you and knocking the breath out of you. He was so undeniably good, knowing you liked the insertion slow, almost testing the waters before completely undoing you.
And gods bless him, for that is all he intended to do. The Eagle of Rome only knelt for the gods, but you, your whines, your writhing pleasure he drank like a man parched…
You had become a deity in his eyes; and a celestial figure deserved the best of service — hours upon hours of honing your desire because he was the only one who was capable of ruining you.
Another finger found itself inside you, and your cunt began to pulsate at the fullness it achieved, inching along the growing tension bubbling deep within your gut. Beads of sweat dripped down, your willpower to not thrash against his face about to snap, and when he fastened his pace an obscenely loud moan ripped through your mouth. 
You were much too close to the final high.
“Fuck, Jihoon—!” you nearly cried, hands unable to stray from his hair, his wonderful, lustrous hair. “Jihoon, please, I’m so clo—”
His free hand on your thigh squeezed you ever so slightly, as if aware of your near absolution. He only sped up his work, his fingers gliding in and out so quickly you could not keep up. If that was not enough, his mouth sucking on your clit was ready to bring the sky down on your head.
But Jihoon was ready to risk the destruction of all the world. Ready to face the gods in his last hour as he swirled your swollen bud with his tongue one last time.
That was enough to come undone.
Your release came crashing, curls of pleasure riding all through your body as your mind misted into fog, no thought or idea save for the slow assistance of your husband, easing your throbbing. A lust-struck sigh came out of you, hand falling from his hair onto his tensed shoulder. Sensing your high washing over, he slowed his tongue, fingers withdrawn from your cunt.
He caught your gaze in his, two slick fingers hanging between you two. He dared you to look away as he brought them to his lips, slipping them inside and tasting the residue.
That sight alone could have made you come for the second time. 
The bastard knew it too, for a ghost of a smirk exposed itself on his face, once his fingers were clean of your arousal. “Could not let it go to waste,” he murmured, as if your wetness was liquid gold. 
Hands back on your thighs once more, he lifted himself up gently, toga in disarray over his service. With you sat upon the table, his fingers found home upon your chin, lifting your line of sight on him.
Pure hunger lay dormant in his eyes. 
Not just his eyes, but his mouth still, when he leaned in and kissed you. You returned it without question, desire coiling around your soul as if it had not been released mere minutes ago.
You did not care. Not when you had waited so fucking long.
The man smiled between the burning kisses, humming at your lusted agony as he slid an arm around your waist. “My love—” a kiss upon the corner of your mouth —”What more shall I do—” another kiss, to the other corner—”For you?”
If he kept at it like this, you were going to forget your mother tongue. “Inside me…” you mustered between his lips on you, on your skin. A pathetic attempt, but your mind was still recovering from your release.
He paused, a malicious grin curving. “Pray, mea vita, my sweet, was I not just inside you?” Tugging you off the table, he held on tight as your knees buckled. “See? Even your body speaks for me.”
Your leg brushed against the weakness of his argument, almost tenting his toga. “Does yours?” you managed to remark, catching the defeated furrow of his brow. 
His stare had you silent once again, butterflies forming in your stomach. Leaning in, his lips brushed against the shell of your ear. 
“I’ll have your body screaming for me when I’m done, vita.”
Your body, in his response, shuddered against him.
Jihoon did not wait for more as he slotted his mouth along yours, igniting the flame again, unable to have enough of you as he whirled you around, eliciting the same little whines he adored so ardently.
He swooped you up in his arms, knowing your legs could not take the walk to the bed. Never stopping his kisses, he knew where to go by memory, hands skirting along your skin as he neared the final haven of tonight. Despite his words, he laid you gently upon the bed, continuing his trail upon your cheeks, your jaw, anywhere where you would allow him. 
Your heart sang at what was to come. Memories flooded you, passionate nights of years ago reminding you of what had been, and what distance had snatched from you. You had never forgotten the last time you both had made love, the very last night you both had been offered before he was to sail away to satiate his need for vengeance. He had asked nothing from you, not a single request, even though he knew you would have given it to him in a heartbeat. 
No, that night, he had explored every inch, every crevice of your body—burned his presence onto your skin till the entirety of Rome knew that Lee Jihoon had left a piece of himself in you. That piece morphed into the child you bore, but Jihoon had never really left your soul, despite the thousands of miles stretching between you two.
“Never again,” you let yourself whisper as he broke away, your hands fisting themselves in his toga, tugging off the fabric which was another form of distance. You needed him once again. Yes, you had withstood miles upon miles away from him. But now, you could not handle even inches apart.
He understood. He always understood, slipping off the clothing till it reached his hips. Climbing over you, his abdomen exposed, you could not believe your cheeks burned at the sight of him half-naked before you. A small chuckle escaped him, and he stole a quick kiss before burying himself into your neck.
His fingers reached for the loose straps of your dress, barely of use. “Take these off for me, darling,” he whispered, and the order vibrated along your skin, ready to be followed. While you desperately tried to pry your dress off, he pressed open-mouthed kisses along the base of your throat, making your simple task an impossible mission.
One strap fell, and Jihoon’s teeth slowly sank into your skin, sucking at the spot with such passion a soft groan trambles out of you, unsure whether you could get the other half of your dress off. Thankfully, with someone as accommodating as him, he pressed an unironically chaste kiss before finding the last straps himself. 
The pure smugness in his eyes had you in near tears. “One little kiss, and you’ve ceased working,” he drawled breathily. “Must I do all the work, my sweet?”
You would have cursed his ancestors had he not brought your dress down, tossing the clothing to the side and drinking in your bare figure. 
A breath shuddered out of him, certain that you could inhale the pure lust oozing from him. “I can’t…I cannot believe I went two years without…without this—”
The words were left unfinished as he wasted no time, indulging your mouth for moments before pouncing downwards, taking your left breast in his mouth and skimming his teeth softly against the nipple. The man was riling you up now, you taking his hair in your hands, certain you were trying to tear his locks out with the way you held onto him. Jihoon did not seem to mind, too occupied with your breasts to pay heed to your damage.
“Jihoon, please, I need you to—fuck!” cut off with his tongue encircling your breasts, you nearly had had enough. Your cunt ached for the final descent, your patience growing thin. “Please, I-I need you inside me!”
His answer was allowing one last lick to your right nipple, cold striking your breasts as he looked down at you, eyes glossed over with carnal delight. With his hand he ripped away the toga pooling at his hips, and his cock was freed, almost enraged to be cloaked away in silk. 
You looked like a fool staring at it, but you could not help it—you did not remember it being so huge, even though it has been inside you countless times. Another piece of evidence that he had been away from you long enough.
“Ogled enough, darling?” his voice snapped you back, and you were almost embarrassed at the shit-eating grin that lit up his face. 
“Shut up,” you mumbled, but you could not say more, you being silenced with his searing kiss. 
Pulling away, his forehead rested against yours, black locks tickling your cheeks as he held your one side in one hand, and his cock in another.
Nudging your legs apart, the tip brushed against your folds, and your soul nearly departed from the ghost of a touch. “Careful,” he warned, thumb stroking your hip, and he stole a glance at you.
“I love you, vita,” he whispered.
And began the final descent.
His cock slid inside, slowly, ever so slowly, but with every inch you felt each layer of your spirit stop to a standstill. Jihoon never stopped watching—catching your parted mouth, the shallow, uneven breaths you took, the knitted brows, your fingers holding onto him for dear life. He could not help it, see—these few seconds, these few, transitory moments, where both souls are on the edge of the world, and none know whether they’d hang on, or fall to their doom.
This moment encompassed such an image within the features of your face.
And he relished it. Captured the image, and used it as fuel to his carnal fire as he buried himself into you, releasing a breath he kept inside the entire time. Maybe it was after so long, but the two of you stayed still, your husband fearing you might snap. A frivolous thought, of course, but one can believe anything when one is so vulnerable.
One look from you, though, had his doubts disappearing in an instant. You let a small smile escape, and it was all he needed before he slowly withdrew, the mere action so gratifying you wondered whether it was another one of your dreams, a vision granted by the mercy of the gods.
Maybe the gods were extra pleased, for Jihoon was no dream—only a very pleasing reality, waiting for your whimpers to fill the room before thrusting back into you again. The rhythm was beginning to strike, and you were its follower; the shy hesitations started to fade, and you could feel his desire burning with every slide out, and every slide in of his cock into you, holding onto your hips to keep you steady. 
With each thrust you felt the stakes of your pleasure reach higher and higher. Tendrils of delight rippled through you with his movements, quickening yet keeping his fluidity, like an elegant dancer in a warfield, somehow managing to emerge victorious with his body alone. Of course, you could never doubt your husband. He was the favourite of the Empire for a reason.
“By the gods, you—” he plunged into you once more, and he grazed a certain spot inside you that had you seeing the universes. “You’re so fucking good to me, you—”
Never finishing his sentences, never even finishing his line of thought, the sole thing in his mind being your delicious fucking folds, your cunt which felt so perfect around his cock. He leaned in further, teething sweet love bites onto your neck, revelling in your pleasured groaning, growing louder and louder with each quickened thrust. “Yes, vita, just like that!” he exclaimed, never stopping. “For all of Rome to hear!”
He did not care a bit if the world heard them now. All that mattered to him was you, you and only you.
More so when that familiar, growing ache of nerves was back, warning you of your impending release. Jihoon was ruthless to you, relentless with his cock, unforgiving with his tongue and teeth which managed to devour your every inch. There was no escaping it—the ache was like a tightened knot, with his actions well on its way to unravel it.
“I-I’m close, Jihoon,” you breathed out, pressing your lips on his chest, his shoulder, anything you could grasp. “Please, love, I need to—”
“I know, vita,” he guttered, as if he, too, was close. He did not care much for that, though, when all he could focus on was you, all broken words and teary gazes beneath him. “I know.”
To add even more to your doom, he brought back an older prospect, fingers circling your clit and heightening the delight swirling within your gut ten times over. The nerves were pumping, faster and faster, and you were deathly aware that it was now or never.
Your eyes, seeing stars throughout, found your husband within the mist of desire. “J-Jihoon…”
Everything was forgotten. Not a word remembered in the fog of your mind but your vita’s name, your lover’s name, bright as the summer sun, as bold as the royal colours he adorned in his triumph.
As true as the love never lost between the two of you.
It was enough for the Eagle of Rome to capture your lips, holding you in a heart-wrenching kiss.
It was enough for you to completely ruin yourself.
Your cries drowned onto his mouth as release came crashing, legs shaking as you died and resurrected all at once, came undone within his hold. The world slipped away in that moment, with him as your anchor, saving you from being eternally lost.
While you lay breathless, Jihoon slipped himself out of you, breaking away from your kiss to cry out himself, spilling himself onto you and the sheets. A haggard fuck escaped him, arcing over you before throwing himself beside you. 
Silence welcomed you after that.
The din of the party remained, and both of you gasping, but a silence followed, like a warm winter blanket. Both of you stared at the ceiling, the moonlit parts of the surfaces, trying to catch your breaths after what you both just experienced.
Turning your head, you caught Jihoon already stealing glances. They were heavy-lidded, unsurprisingly, yet you found it endearing, despite the circumstances.
“What?” you got out, cocking your head at his soft staring.
He shook his head, smiling tiredly. He stretched his arm out towards you, murmuring, “Come here.”
Obliging, you followed under his arm, resting your head against his chest. Despite the granite-hardness of his body, no other surface would suffice. Your head rose and fell along to his uneven breathing, a small comfort. 
As the general gazed down at you, the softness returned; his thumb stroked along your cheeks. “I…” he began, voice huskier than usual, you humming in satisfaction. 
“Yes?” you got out, hanging onto his every word. 
Glancing away for a second, he looked to the window, and the view it offered of the world beyond.
He then glanced back at you, a better world he had found of his own.
“I am…so happy…” he whispered. Whispered because he had to tell his world what he felt. “So happy to come back to you.”
Your heart but into a thousand butterflies.
A smile as wide as you could muster was your response.
And as he continued stroking your hair, and you leaning into his hold, you too, knew that you felt the exact same.
For the Eagle of Rome had returned to you at last.
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CENTURION LEE CHAN HAD WITNESSED HORRORS.
He had seen thousands of dead men, scattered across the sands of Egypt. He had seen ships sink before his very eyes—by the gods, he had even seen the beginnings of death, when he nearly drowned at the final naval battle that secured Legacy Legion its victory.
None of these events, however, made him more queasy as realising that you, while you were laid beside your husband, were not experiencing intoxication from honey wine. It was an exhilaration of a completely unusual kind, a feeling that had the tips of his ears reddening. 
His fellow men’s reactions only made it worse. “What did you think they were going to do?” Seungkwan only demanded. “Sleep it off on their first night together?”
“Well, how was I to know?” the youngest visibly shivered. “I do not know how married people work.”
“Poor soul,” Soonyoung tutted out, no plans for pausing his drink. “I fear for when he is to wed.”
“I still do not understand,” Seokmin voiced out. “They have a whole child together. How did you not…”
“My apologies for not pondering over our general’s intimate life,” Chan grumbled. “How idiotic of me.”
“Do not mind these deviants,” Wonwoo assured him, handing him a fresh cup of wine. “You just drink their awful comments away.”
He spared a fearful glance at the cup, filled with honey wine. “I should not,” he meant to declare in a confident stance. His voice, already weakened from a previous revelation of his commander’s, had rendered his declaration as a childish mumble. “The baby would need my attention sooner or later.”
“Fuck the baby!” was Seokmin’s great exclamation, clicking his tongue. “He is already the star guest of this damned celebration. We—!” he patted his chest repeatedly—”We were supposed to be the ones our people fawn over!”
“Your need for attention never fails to astound me,” Wonwoo remarked, circling his drink. “The boy was named after our murdered friend.”
“It happens to men like Seokmin,” Seungkwan drawled, slinging an arm around him, “To those men who received no attention at home.”
“Fuck off!” Seokmin jeered, rasped out from the alcohol buzzing in his system. “At least our Roman women fawned over me this afternoon. Where were your girls?”
“My, my, our dear Seokmin’s imagination runs so wild!” The second-youngest cooed condescendingly, grabbing Wonwoo’s cup, which had the latter furrowing his brows. “He dreams of female attention when we have seen no evidence of it!”
Soonyoung wished to join in on the bullying, chiming in, “And now he envies a child that cannot control its own piss!”
As everyone laughed at the poor, drunk soul, who genuinely looked as if he might cry, Wonwoo waved his large hands around, as if attempting to calm everyone down. “No more harassing the unloved virgin.”
“We were not talking about Chan though,” Soonyoung instantly piped up, his next said-target narrowing his eyes. 
“Just because I choose to save myself for someone I love,” he grumbled, which had chuckling resonating around the group.
“Gods help her when she turns up, then,” Seungkwan sighed out, drinking Wonwoo’s wine. 
Perhaps Chan might have said something in retort—might have even garnered the strength to punch the honey wine out of his friend’s insides when one of the servants came hurrying. 
He identified her as Myrtia, your personal maid, who looked incredibly distressed. “Centurion Lee,” she immediately began, “Seungcheol keeps crying!”
“Oh, gods,” Soonyoung crowed, “Wet-nurse first, soldier second, is it?”
“At least he is not a whore first, Soonyoung,” Seokmin muttered.
“Both of you, shut up!” Chan finally snapped, turning to Myrtia once more. “Where is he right now? Will _____ not tend to him?”
“Our dear _____ is a little occupied being tended to herself, remember?” Seungkwan reminded him, his smirk malicious. 
The youngest flushed scarlet, shaking his head. “Right, of course…” He heaved himself off the cushions, to much of his friends’ agitation. “I will see what to do.”
“What?” Soonyoung sat up, but the alcoholic daze had him swaying slightly. “Wait, wait, wait, don’t just leave!” 
“Take me to Cheol,” Chan said to Myrtia, but before she could even agree, four rounds of disapproving voices hurled towards the poor boy.
“No!” Seungkwan exclaimed first, taking great pains to hoist himself off the long tables. “No, no, you cannot go on your own!”
“Exactly!” Seokmin joined in, using Seungkwan’s toga to try hauling himself up. “You will die in there!” 
Wonwoo clicked his tongue, even though he, too, was beginning to follow after his friends. “Chan is not going to die with a mere child.”
Chan watched his superiors rise carelessly from their furnishings, already feeling a little frantic. “What are you all doing?”
“Why, coming with you, of course!” 
“Myrtia, my sweet,” Soonyoung purred, patting a hand on her shoulder, “You lead us straight to the baby!” 
Hurriedly nodding, she turned and headed towards the destination, five centurions hot on her heels as they were led down the familiar hallways. Chan muttered to himself, but did not have time to self-ponder when he was constantly being distracted.
“How much longer is this going to take?” Seokmin whined, holding onto the walls for support. “And since when did the lamps on _____’s walls start shaking?”
“It has not been a minute and you’re complaining!” Seungkwan snarked out. “It’s a wonder you managed to walk forty miles everyday, lazy git.” 
“Not lazy enough to slice your mouth right off!” 
“Just this door here,” Myrtia said, turning into the empty doorway, dipping her head in respect as she stepped out of the way, allowing Chan to enter first, the rest stumbling behind him. 
Sure enough, the first noise heard in everyone’s ears was the wailing—a screechy, whiny sound which reverberated off the stone walls, striking discomfort, irritation, turmoil in the hearts of whoever heard them. The man who felt it the most dashed to the cot, brows joining together in agitation over the sight of the baby. 
“You would think Chan was the father,” Seungkwan retorted. “Do something about this crying, boy!” 
“You really are heartless,” Wonwoo scolded, following after the youngest. Observing the crying child, he pursed his mouth into a thin line. “How does one…stop a baby from crying?”
“Only a mother can take care of her child,” Seokmin voiced out, as if he thought of a ground-breaking notion akin to Plato’s wisdom. 
“We are not disturbing _____,” Seungkwan rebuked, shaking his head vigorously. “Those two have waited nearly two years to fuck each other again.”
“Let them have their fun!” Soonyoung roared, which had the baby crying louder. “Gods, Chan, you are the youngest after Cheol. Handle this sobbing mess!”
“I have seen twenty summers,” Chan muttered.
“Yes, so a baby in my eyes!” 
“Of course you are going to consider Chan as a baby, you geriatric. It’s a wonder you did not collapse on the battlefield.” 
I will kill you in the next war, Seungkwan.”
As the rest started grumbling amongst themselves, the youngest gently picked up the bundle, slowly rocking him in hopes to calm the crying. Seungcheol’s face was reddened with the constant sorrow, and it broke Chan’s heart a little, hoping that he would gain some newfound power and solve whatever problem ailed him. 
A sigh escaping him, he began to mumble sweet nothings to him, morphing those whispers in a quaint song he heard from his own childhood. His melody was like honey wine, words so soft, his voice so sweet, that the men that accompanied him began to quieten, turning their heads to the origin.
Wonwoo watched the scene, smiling lop-sidedly. “You are a natural!”
“It is quite embarrassing,” Seokmin admitted, scratching the back of his head, “That the youngest of us is the only one able to calm a child.”
“None of us claimed to be good with children,” Seungkwan thought out loud, observing the younger soldier tend to the sobbing, which had quietened to mere whimpers. 
Soonyoung tried to raise a brow—strong on tried, but he was too drunk to carry out such a simple action. “You always boasted of your relationships with your nieces and nephews.”
“That is different. I could care less about random urchins.”
“Seungkwan!” Seokmin exclaimed. “Seungcheol is no urchin.”
“He was though, was he not?” The man scoffed, albeit a bit tenderly as he began to reminisce. “Gods, did you forget how insufferable he was?”
“Always on our arses, too,” Soonyoung agreed, snickering. “Do you remember when he got us in shit with Octavian?”
“Talking back to Caesar’s successor during our first military session.” Wonwoo visibly shivered. “The punishment still haunts me.”
But the distant memory only made the rest chuckle, as if the centurions had not received verbal lashings from the leader of Rome at that time. Silence bathed the room, only Seungcheol’s voice sputtering through the surface of calm. It had only been a meagre two-and-half years since the inspiration behind his name had passed, but with the hardships of the Alexandria campaign, it had felt like decades. Even Chan felt the age of this campaign, although he was young when he suffered the loss. 
He sensed the loss a little more that night as, walking away from the cot, he leaned against the wall. As if unable to stand, he let his legs buckle a little, sliding down and settling on the floor, feet spreading out before him. “I sometimes see him in my dreams,” he admitted. 
There was a heavy pause. 
Then, “He visited me more a year back.”
Everyone focused on Soonyoung. Travelling to where his youngest friend sat, he copied his position, continuing, “I told Jihoon about it, actually, right before Actium…I deemed it a sign of the gods.” A small laugh huffed out of him. “He then corrected me, saying it was all Cheol.”
“Typical,” Seungkwan said, smiling. “Take all the might of the gods and reward himself for it.”
“I cannot blame him, though,” Wonwoo countered, wandering over to the seated duo, looking down at their general’s son. “A loss of faith can come with a loss of a loved one.”
“Yes, but look at us now!” Seokmin reasoned, gesturing to them all. “Victors of the coming generation!” 
“But these so-called ‘Victors’ cannot stop a baby from crying,” Wonwoo murmured, sitting beside Chan. “I doubt we deserve that title.”
“Hey, at least Chan deserves it.” Seokmin hurried to sit beside the former, watching tenderly over at the baby. “Look, he is silent now!” 
“No way!” Seungkwan exclaimed, sauntering to the group and settling beside Soonyoung, reaching over to inspect the claim.
Sure enough—at the centre of the most powerful soldiers in Rome, almost slumbering in complete peace, was a silent Seungcheol, happy Seungcheol as he stirred only if Chan moved his hand, or shifted his legs. It was not as if they had not seen a mere child before, but, once again, this bundle, so full of life, was different. This was their commander’s legacy. Their leader’s soul extended from his own life-force, his evidence that he loved. 
This Seungcheol that the five men stared at was the new beginning. 
It was a long time before anyone spoke. “Do you think he looks more like one over the other?” Wonwoo asked.
“All babies look the same to me,” Seokmin offered his opinion. 
By Seungkwan’s incredulous glance, it seemed it was not appreciated. “No one let this idiot have a child of his own.”
The accused frowned, genuinely hurt. “Hey! I should like to have a family one day. Give you all opportunity to become uncles again.”
“I would recognise your baby anywhere,” Soonyoung crowed, “Because it shall be the ugliest out of ours.”
The gasp that escaped Seokmin had Chan choking out a laugh. Seungcheol stirred at the action, which had the latter immediately stilling. “You guys need to insult each other’s future children a little quieter,” he whispered. 
The former had other plans, though. “Wait, can I hold him?” 
Chan shot a concerned glance. “Fine, but be careful!” he insisted, slowly handing over the bundle to Wonwoo, who, after smiling at him, passed him over at the end. 
Seokmin began rocking the child, who glanced up at him, languidly blinking up at the soldier. He was ecstatic, softly touching the tiny nose, and feeling his mouth widen into a grin. “See? He likes me already!”
“Yeah, after Chan has done all the hard labour,” Wonwoo commented, beaming at the baby’s expression. 
“I want Cheol after you,” Soonyoung demanded, crossing his arms, “So he can see what a real man is like.”
“Real jester, more like,” Seungkwan muttered, earning himself a hard elbow in the side. 
What Seokmin wanted to do was tell the eldest to wait his turn. He did not have the opportunity when he smelt the air around him, and found it most foul.
Chan noticed it immediately as well, and within the next few seconds, the others caught on. Five pairs of eyes whirled to the baby, who had the audacity to giggle.
Seokmin let out a scream. 
“BY THE FUCKING GODS—!”
Everyone scrambled to their feat, the rest struggling to hold back their amusement. “Not so loud!” Chan hissed, though he was restraining a laugh, only successful by the finger on his lips. 
“Stupid damned baby!” Seokmin screeched, holding the bundle at arms length. 
Wonwoo could not help his laugh, which spluttered out of him. “You cannot blame a baby for acting like one! It is like scolding a dog for running after a bone.”
The comparison had Soonyoung bellowing out, holding his stomach. “I always knew Seungcheol was annoying, but shitting on us is another low!”
Seokmin visibly shivered, patience running thin. “I hope he is rotting in the underworld,” he cursed, completely merciless. 
“I hope he is laughing at you,” Seungkwan prayed instead, wiping a few tears from his eyes. 
Chan only shook his head, walking to the doorway and stretching his head out. “Myrtia!” he called out, catching her tending to the guests in the dining areas. 
Quickly she arrived at the scene, understanding immediately what had occurred, judging by the men’s reactions. “Hand him over, Centurion,” she ordered, he obliging her instantly. 
“Sorry?” Seokmin offered, as if he was the one who soiled his toga. That had the others laughing even more, which had him furrowing his brows. “You men are the worst!”
“After ruining Chan’s night with all our complaints, it is only fair that we turn to you!” Soonyong explained, as if that was perfectly reasonable. 
Seungkwan cackled darkly. “We really are each other’s worst enemy.”
Wonwoo somehow found that incredibly sentimental. “I would not have it any other way,” he said, slinging his arm around Chan, ushering the other three to join in. “After all, who knows us better?”
“You make a stellar point!” The eldest clasped onto Chan’s free side, poking him in the cheek. “I would not wish to befriend any other wretched bastard.”
“You do not possess the ability to make friends, Soonyoung,” Seungkwan pointed out. 
“Then what are we?” Seokmin demanded, offended, the last to join the group. 
“Comrades?”
“Colleagues?”
“People who have seen me naked?”
But it was Chan, who was quiet all this time, observing his older—usually irritating, sometimes diabolical, yet always beloved—superiors, there formed an answer which had been settled in his heart the moment he had found their company nearly a decade back.
“Brothers.”
The men surrounding him stilled, gawking at the centre of their group—the centre that was always the core of their brotherhood. Although there was ample opportunity to poke fun at the situation, they found no ground for such humiliation. They only watched as, in an almost comical image, four pairs of eyes softened at the boy who had grown right in front of them. 
Wonwoo ruffled the youngest’s mop of waves. “And you are the dearest out of us all.”
“And do not forget it,” Seungkwan said. “Even if we make you seem otherwise.”
Chan smiled at them all, face flushing at the amount of attention received. A comfortable silence fell over them, everyone pondering over different notions, reminiscing of their times together. 
Soonyoung, however, possibly still a little intoxicated, thought of a completely different opportunity—thoughts of the very near future. 
“Men,” he began, “I have a proposition.”
The soldiers perked up, about to brace themselves for a revolutionary idea.
“Who wants to spy on Jihoon and _____?”
There was a momentary pause. Chan, visibly horrified, whirled his head left and right, praying to the gods that his fellow brothers felt the same. 
“Go on, then.” 
And as the four eldest centurions shuffled to the nursery’s entrance, Chan scrambled for a solution, because he would have rather been Mark Antony’s prisoner than listen to his commander and his wife…solidify their reunion.
He sucked in a sharp breath. 
“Wait!” 
The men paused, looking over their shoulders. “What is it?”
That intake of breath was released in complete devastation. So much for calling these utter shits brothers. 
“How about we all drink? I shall…” A hard gulp. “I shall join you properly all this time.”
They could not believe it at first. Chan, however, trudged over to them, grabbing onto whatever shoulder was nearest. “I mean it.”
He swore his brothers seemed happier in that moment than they had been cradling Jihoon’s child. 
“Well, what are we waiting for?!” Soonyoung roared, already leaving the entrance. “Let us empty the coffers!” 
And as the five most powerful men in Rome ran to be utterly gone with alcohol, Chan could not help but huff out a laugh, and hoped he had done his primus pilus a favour. 
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YOU HAD ALWAYS ADORED THE WAY YOUR HUSBAND SLEPT.
As one of the most esteemed, strongest generals ever walked on Roman soil, Lee Jihoon looked as vulnerable as your baby son as he lay next to you. His body rose and fell with every breath, his arm a strong comfort around you. 
You could not help the smile that slipped past your mouth, watching him rest so peacefully after two years. You loved every single inch of your husband, but these little pieces of him, offered to you on rare occasions—with the sun bleeding through the bedroom windows, cool air drifting inside, kissing your skin—were a treasure rarer than all the wealths of the empire. 
You dared not wake him, lest the moment ended, only allowing your fingers to stretch a little forward. Your fingertips caressed the small cuts, scars on his skin, wishing you could fill every crevice of his battle-worn face with your liquid love. 
How beautiful he was, with or without what his experiences added onto him. 
Perhaps he could feel the adoration radiating off of you, for he began to stir faintly, humming to your caresses. His arm around you pulled you closer, and you were mere inches from face. 
What fortune to be so close to him, because you witnessed his eyes flutter open. Dark, chocolate irises welcomed you, and you wished with your heart that you could dive into them, and be forever lost in their haze.
“Morning,” you uttered, smiling.
He offered a lazy one in return. “Morning, my love.”
You almost beamed. “I love it when you say that.” 
His brow raised absentmindedly. “What? Morning?”
You tutted. “I think you need to sleep some more.”
“Hmmm…” he nuzzled into your neck, closing his eyes. “I will if you sleep with me.”
“But I already am.”
He craned his head back, nestled in your chest. “I think you know what I mean, vita.”
Involuntarily, you caught your lower lip between your teeth, and by the look on Jihoon’s face, he had half a mind to copy your actions.
Perhaps you would have let him too, if you did not hear a suspicious sound.
You perked up, head turning towards the door, where the origins of the voice—voices, as you listened in—lay. Your husband, catching onto your change of countenance, stretched himself before sitting up straighter, eyes squinting at the door.
Grabbing onto your clothes, which lay unceremoniously on the floor, you half-dressed yourselves before you reached just before the entrance of the room. The voices were much louder, a sense of agitation filling each one.
The loudest of the noise, amongst all the bickering, was a soft wail.
“—you stupid prick, I told you not to feed it that!”
“Well how was I supposed to know what it likes?”
“I hope you and Seokmin never have children—”
“Gods, Jihoon is going to be raging mad—!”
“What it deserves for being called Cheol—!”
You did not get to hear the end of the discussion, for Jihoon grabbed onto the doorknob and burst open the door.
Shrieks were heard on the entrance, five centurions stumbling into your bedroom, one with a special, wailing package in his hand.
“By the gods!” your husband exclaimed, shaking his head at his subordinates, scrambling to stand straight. “What are you all doing, muttering about behind our door?”
“Uhh…general!” Wonwoo declared, earning a sharp hiss from his friends. “We actually…uhhh…” He looked at the others, confused. “What were we here for?”
Soonyoung, rubbing his temples, seethed, “Seungcheol, you idiot!”
“Ah, yes!” Wonwoo straightened, deepening his voice to pretend sobriety. “Seungcheol!” 
Seokmin’s eyes widened. “But Seungcheol died years ago!”
Seungkwan then smacked him around the head. “Not that Seungcheol, you fucking idiot!”
You are the fucking idiot, you ugly bastard!”
You glanced at Chan, whose focus only lay on the crying child. The one who held him looked as if he might burst into tears too, but you spoke up before you had any more crying children in the house. “Here, let me tend to him.”
The boy handed you your son, but you noticed he dared not look you in the eye. “Is something the matter?” you asked him softly.
Soonyoung scoffed at your question. “Silly little virgin has been shitting his toga ever since he heard you two fucking like rabid dogs.”
“Watch your filthy mouth,” your husband guttered, which had the scolded-man shrinking back behind Wonwoo.
Seokmin snickered, Seungkwan smirking as you glanced at the youngest. “Chan…” you trailed off, not really sure on what to say.
Thankfully, your husband seemed to have a solution. “Chan, please grow up,” he remarked, crossing his arms over his tousled clothing. “You were holding my child mere seconds ago.”
“He just needs to stick his cock into someone,” Seungkwan said, a bit too matter-of-factly.
“Or something,” added Seokmin, the honey wine clearly still talking.
You saw Chan physically recoil from the statement. “What did you even have in mind?” Wonwoo asked, nose scrunching in distaste. “Actually, I do not want to know.” 
“Sober up, the lot of you,” you said, unable to stay serious, despite the death glares Jihoon offered them. “I need you all to help me clean the place up today.”
Everyone unanimously groaned, causing the latter to get irritated. “If I hear a sound from you pathetic drunkards, then it’s 40 miles around the city.”
Soonyoung turned his head to you, clearly exasperated. “_____, did you bite his cock or something?”
“Soonyoung!” You gasped. 
“I need to lie down,” Wonwoo groaned, turning towards the door. “I shall be dunking myself in a well nearby.”
“Take Seokmin with you,” Seungkwan drawled, fixing his hair. “Maybe this time he will actually drown.”
“If I drown little man, I’m taking you with me,” the man snapped. 
“Chan, dear, please sort them out,” you requested, hearing him sigh.
“I shall try my best, my lady,” he mumbled, knowing that his best efforts will be in vain. 
As he began to leave, you called out his name. He looked back, and you smiled as you rocked Seungcheol in your arms. “You are his favourite, Chan.”
The revelation had his frown morphing into a small smile, bowing his head ever so slightly before turning to his centurions. “Let us give our general some privacy.”
Seokmin grumbled underneath his breath, following after Chan. “As if they had not had enough privacy…could have made another baby for all we know…”
Jihoon focused his gaze on Soonyoung and Seungkwan. “Remember. No fucking about or it’s 40 miles.”
The latter waved his hand, opening the door. “Yes, yes, we are aware.”
Soonyoung mocked a salute, adorning a most dramatic drawl. “Of course, your excellency, no doubt at all, your royal highness, please, do give us further idiotic orders to taunt us with, your magnanimous majesty!”
Jihoon’s glare did not waver. “Get out.”
“…right on, general.”
And so the last of the centurions were out, you standing at the door as they made to leave. Before they exited, though, they all simultaneously waved at you, some a bit too enthusiastically, others a soft gesture. 
“Ave, _____! Ave, general!”
And they left, laughing already with plans to bring more merriment into their lives.
Your husband joined you, leaning against the opposite door frame. “I have a feeling they’re going to drag poor Chan into some brothel.”
“I think the boy would pass out before that would take place,” you said, chuckling as you glanced down at your child. “At least he takes care of Cheol well.”
“Does he?“
“…better than the average soldier, then.”
“At least they had fun yesterday.” Jihoon took a step closer, observing his son giggling at his mother’s entertainment. “Though they test my patience everyday, they deserve all the reward.”
“Do not exclude yourself, my love,” you reminded him. “You did not enslave yourself to your armies to disregard yourself like that.”
“I do not exclude myself.” His hand reached out, holding Seungcheol’s little head. How strange, that his entire head could fit in his palm. “I am simply happy with what I have right now.”
He offered you a smile. “I am more than happy with you and my son beside me. I ask for nothing more.”
You returned his smile, heart bursting at the seams as he leaned in, enveloping your lips with his in a sweet kiss.
And as the two of you played with your son in the morning light of the Roman sun, you snuck glances at your husband, the light of the Empire. The Eagle of Rome.
Finally, your home was now complete.
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joonberriess · 1 year ago
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3 D
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p a i r i n g : jungkook x reader
g e n r e : pimp au.
t a g s : pimp!jk debut(!!!!), some degradation, jk watches videos and looks at ur nudes, masturbation, blowjobs, cum swallowing, head pusher!jk, cunnilingus, fingering, squirting(duh), phone sex(?), daddy kink but brief in some scenes, jk is whipped for his pretty gf :( , nasty dirty talk
w o r d c o u n t : 3.2 k
s u m m a r y : “I wanna see it in motion, in 3D. Cause you know how I like it, girl,” or: Jungkook wants the real thing and not some picture or video. Only thing is he’s on a business trip.
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Jungkook tosses his phone off to the side with a quiet “fuck” under his breath. It’s only been three hours since he touched down in LA and not once did you leave his mind even during the long flight on his way over. He thought that after a much needed nap he’d wake up refreshed but it was quite the opposite. However, as soon as his eyes fluttered open he felt the tightness down below in his sweats—cock chubbing up and throbbing painfully through his boxers.
He tried easing the tension by rubbing his hand over the tent at first, he sighed quietly in relief as his hand slipped under his sweats and into his boxers. His cock sat hot and heavy in his hand, twitching when he ran a thumb over the leaky head. “Fuck.” He softly repeats while letting his head fall back on the pillow.
Jungkook’s eyes slip shut as he swallows harshly, he focuses on the hot pleasure boiling in his lower abdomen while slowly working his cock up and down with his thumb swiping over the tip. He pictures you in his bed after a nasty little pussy eating session laying there all fucked out with your thighs still spread and pussy out for him to look at. He swears he can taste you on his tongue just thinking about it.
His lips part as another breathy moan escapes his throat, he lazily flicks his wrist and strokes over his cock while more images of you flash in his mind. He groans out loud at a particular stroke, eyebrows pinching together in concentration as he struggles to keep the same angle and rhythm. Jungkook starts thinking about your ass—your soft, round, apple-bottom shaped ass.
God he just wanted to have his hands over both cheeks, gripping them tight and giving them a couple slaps here and there. His favorite thing to do was fuck you doggy just to watch the way your ass recoiled whenever he slammed in, the bounce was crazy as all he could do was watch in awe as you threw your ass back on him, doughy cheeks colliding against each other or his pelvis.
A low groan of frustration escapes him as he stops stroking himself all at once, slumping over in bed as he lays there staring at the ceiling trying to ignore the heat in his lower belly. He was not having it. He picked his phone up and immediately clicked on his private photos, biting his lip as his screen blew up with endless pics of you or some body part of yours.
He chewed on his lower lip while mindlessly scrolling through the pretty lingerie and ass pics you sent him almost a week ago. A low whistle leaves him, “Goddamn.” He muttered under his breath, he wanted the real thing but sadly these would have to do for now.
Jungkook palms his cock lazily once more, he wraps his fist around the swollen shaft and gives it a small squeeze. He’s even fucking harder now just looking at your pictures rather than before when he was just going off of by memory. He swipes and comes across a photo of your naked body only clad in a pretty g-string. He hisses low at the sight of the string swallowed up between your soft ass cheeks.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he groans in frustration once more, “this isn’t fucking working.” He stops touching all at once and tosses his phone away, a cold shower will have to do, no use in working himself up if he can’t jack off in peace because it’s not the same.
Jungkook sits up and looks off to the side, this is gonna be a long week without you (at least he had his videos though).
.
Two days. That’s how long Jungkook lasted.
After he finished up with his meetings throughout the day, he slipped into his hotel room and locked himself in for the night. God he missed you so much, he wondered what you were doing back at the club. Were you dancing? Playing? Were you missing him as much as he missed you?
Jungkook was half-tempted to call but he decided against it, while it was barely sundown where he was at, he assumed it was literally nighttime/the next day back at home with you. He settled for a hot shower, dimmed lights, and his phone. He went into the same private collection from before and clicked on one of the many videos he had in store.
He licks his lips hungrily and gets comfortable on the bed, hand dipping down to stroke over his hard-on sitting in his boxers:
“C’mere baby,” Jungkook lazily says, “daddy had a rough day.” He eyes you up and down appreciatively, admiring the way your new corset you bought looked on you. “Ah-ah, you know how I like it baby, why don’t you go on and make me proud yeah? That’s it.” He grins softly, watching as you drop down on your hands and knees, slowly crawling towards him with a devious smile.
“Like this daddy?” You softly say with a sway of your ass.
He groans quietly and nods, “Fuck yeah,” he man spreads invitingly while watching with hooded eyes, “those the new heels I got you baby?” He tilts his head to the side.
“Mm-hm,” you nuzzle into his thigh and press your cheek against him, “pretty aren’t they? Wore them just for you, don’t you think I look pretty?” You pout while giving him those sweet puppy eyes of yours.
Jungkook brings his hand down to cup your face, stroking his thumb over your cheek as he took his time to admire your beauty, “Course, my baby always looks so pretty.” He brings his thumb down on your bottom lip, “But she’d look prettier with a mouth full of cock, don’t you think?” He smirks. You softly moan with a nod and he gently tilts your head up by your chin, “Then why don’t you show me just how pretty you are baby?”
You stare back at him like you’re hypnotized, your small hands come up to undo his belt, the sound of his zipper being pulled fills the space between you two. Jungkook leans down to give you one soft peck on your lips before he’s sitting back like the kingpin he is, arms stretched across the back of the velvet sofa. He watches hungrily as your soft hand wraps around his swollen cock, the sight is obscene given that you can’t even fully close your fist around his cock.
“Go on baby,” he breathes out, “slip me in your pretty little mouth.”
You obediently lean forward, lips parted in a ‘o’ as you slip the head into your mouth. He groans quietly at the sight of your glossy red lips wrapped around his cock. You tongue at the slit of his cock, swiping your tongue over the head in repeated motions—left, right, left right. Your hand gently pumps the rest of his cock, you move slowly and twist your hand when you reach the base of his cock before bringing it back up with a nice grip.
“Fuck,” he sighs as he throws his head back with a hum.
You pull back with a wet pop and bring your hand over the tip, smearing your spit all over his cock as you use it to get the rest of his cock slicked up. After stroking him a couple of times you take his cock back into your mouth, this time pushing down until the head hits the back of your throat with a audible gag.
He swears under his breath and reaches up to bury his tattooed hand in your hair. You blink the tears away and bob your head slowly—swallowing messily around his cock. The noises he makes has your thighs pressing together in an effort to suppress your throbbing clit. Not to mention he looks so hot with his head thrown back and his mouth open.
“There you go baby, doing so good,” he pants softly, “tight little throat—’s like you were made for my cock, tight little cocksleeve.” He bites down on his lip and comes back to look down at you, “Love my cock don’t you?” He pats your head, watching in amusement as you moan and nod for him, “Course you do.”
You swallow noisily, slurping up the excess saliva you leave on his cock as you pull back to pop him out of your mouth, “ ‘s mine isn’t it daddy? No one else can have your cock but me right?” You pout while rubbing the tip over your lips, as if you were coating them in a shiny layer of gloss.
Jungkook nods, “Only yours baby.” He reaches down to grip his cock and guide the head back between your lips, “Nobody else does it like you,” he mumbles while watching you take his entire cock down your throat once more.
You reach up to cup his swollen balls in your hand, pairing it with powerful sucks as you hollow your cheeks. His lips part in surprise, a strangled groan leaving him when you begin massaging his balls while bobbing your head much quicker than before. He can’t help himself anymore, he reaches back down and begins pushing your head against his lap. Each push has you taking him deeper and deeper, until your nose is flush against his pelvis.
“Fuck..!” He moans out when you gag around him, your throat constricts tightly around his cock and it has him struggling to keep his composure. “Shit–gonna cum baby,” he breathes out while reaching into his pocket for his phone.
You hum in acknowledgment while bobbing your head to the best of your ability. Jungkook manages to record you sucking him off before he’s suddenly holding you still with a low moan as he cums down your throat. His cock throbs intensely as hot spurts of cum fill your mouth. “Fucking shit,” he shakily breathes out while running a hand through his hair and zooming in on your swollen lips that are still wrapped around his cock.
You pull back with a low pop, lips smeared in a shiny coat of spit and cum, “Am I prettier now?” You smile brightly.
“Fuck yeah,” he sighs in pure bliss while tossing his phone to the side, that was the meanest suck you ever given him.
+
Jungkook breaks on the fourth day.
“Jungkook!” Your happy little voice rings in the quiet hotel room, “I missed you lots, how’s LA like? Oooh can you bring me back something, pretty please!” You pout while snuggling into the many Kuromi plushies you begged him to buy you.
He bites his lip when he sees the state you’re in—practically naked with nothing but a white spaghetti top and your cheeky lace panties. He feels his cock instantly grow hard at the sight, “Hi baby,” he murmurs, “what’s my pretty girl up to hm? Heard about how wild the other night was for you.” He tries not to get jealous at the thought of so many men being around you, Namjoon had reported that the club was busier that night and it only progressed into something wilder when you came out to dance.
“Oh! Yes! Lots of people came the other night and it was just crazy in there, they literally had to use a broom to collect all the money I made during my dance. Joonie also had to tell ‘em I wasn’t available for private dances.” You blow a raspberry, “But anyways, it’s pretty boring without you here. I went shopping with the girls and today,” you ramble on and on.
He groans pitifully when his cock twitches in interest after you had rolled over laying on your tummy, he had caught a glimpse of your pretty ass and it was game over then and there. “Fuck baby,” he sighs, “you’re making it hard for me, ‘s not fair that I can’t have you here with me.” He mutters.
You giggled softly, “Awww, you miss me that much?” You coo softly, “Anything I can do to make it better? Hm?”
“Yeah, why don’t you turn ‘round and show me your pretty ass baby?” Jungkook bites his lip while reaching inside his boxers to stroke his cock.
In a heartbeat you set the phone up against the pillows and sit up on your knees, turning to show off the curve of your ass. “Like this?” You smirk softly, teasingly poking your ass out and swaying your hips side to side.
“Just like that,” he groans, “make it bounce for me baby, wanna see it,” he whispers while rubbing his thumb over the tip in quick little swipes. He nearly moans out loud when you bend over on all fours, ass bouncing just for him as your doughy cheeks jiggle from your movements, “Fuck I wish you were here,” he swallows harshly while keeping his eyes locked on your ass, occasionally his gaze falls down to your chubby little pussy which is kept hidden by your panties.
“Me too..’s not the same with my fingers,” you wiggle your ass and bend lower until your chest rests on the bed and your back is arched with your ass raised high. “Not even the vibrator you got me works.” You petulantly whine.
“Fuck, I promise when I get back I’ll fuck you as long as you want,” he breathes out while stroking his cock faster, “gonna have you pumped full of my cum, till you’re drippin’, you’ll be a good girl and clean it up won’t you?” He licks his lips.
You nod eagerly, “Course.” You reach behind to spread your cheeks apart, giving him a small little peek of your cunt. He groans loudly when he sees a small dark wet patch over the center, he just wants to bury his face between your cheeks and eat your pussy out till you’re crying and begging him to stop.
“I’m gonna cum baby,” he groans, “lemme see your little pussy, pull those panties to the side for me,” he watches as your fingers come down to hook around the fabric, he nearly blacks out when you yank them to side and show off your cunt to him. He swears he even sees a string of slick between your chubby folds.
Jungkook cums so hard he feels like his vision goes black. He slumps against the bed with a low moan as cum covers his fist and cock, some of it even landed on his pelvis—further making a mess of himself. “God I miss you,” he mutters, “just a few more days baby.” He licks his lips, “Then I’m all yours.” He grins.
“Can’t wait.” You smile dopily, “Sweet dreams.” You coo.
+
Jungkook can’t wait anymore. As soon as his plane touches down and the driver takes him home, he’s booking it straight to the bedroom. You had sent him a flirty message along with a picture of yourself in nothing but a thong waiting for him in bed with a cheeky little: don’t be late!
He stumbled through the door, eyes narrowing in on you. You licked your lips slowly and spread your thighs apart for him, “This what you were missing?” You teasingly slid your hand over your pussy, “I know you want me,” you softly whisper while pulling your thong to the side, “so come and get it.”
With that he climbs over on the bed, bringing you down as he slams his lips into yours rather harshly. You moan into his mouth and wrap your arms around his neck, his hands are everywhere all at once. He goes from cupping your tits to cradling your ribs and then sliding down to your ass. It feels good to be holding your soft cheeks in his hands once more.
“I missed you so fucking much baby,” he growls softly, “thought ‘bout this pretty little ass and pussy night and day.” He lays kisses all over your neck and shoulder.
“Well now you’re here,” you moan softly.
Jungkook licks his lips, “Gonna show you how much I missed you,” he breathes out while sliding down the bed until he’s eye level with your pussy. He doesn’t hesitate to tear the thong off and toss it somewhere, he brings your thighs up and over his shoulders as he goes to town on your aching cunt.
He covers your entire pussy with his hot mouth, licking and sucking wildly at your folds, clit, and slicked up hole. You bury your hands in his hair with a loud moan, pushing his head down as you feed your cunt to him. Loud slurping noises fill the space between you two, his tongue runs over your clit in quick flicks going side to side. Your lips part as breathy whines and cries escape.
“Fuck right there,” you sob out while holding his head still, “w-want more..! ‘M too empty.” You buck your hips.
Jungkook isn’t in the mood to tease, he brings his finger up and prods at your tight little hole. Your mouth falls open when he opens you up with one digit, and then another. He hums as he takes your swollen clit into his mouth, harshly sucking on the sensitive little bud while he fucks his fingers into your throbbing cunt.
“J-Jungkook..!” You sob out while arching your back.
Your legs quiver from the harsh stimulation, you don’t know whether you want to beg him to stop or beg him for more. Jungkook however doesn’t let you think straight with the way he’s sucking on your clit and finger fucking you into another universe. His fingers perfectly strike your g-spot with each thrust making your pussy drip and gush around his fingers.
He pulls back to blow on your clit teasingly, “This is exactly how I wanted you—spread out like a little slut with your needy pussy in my face. Look at you,” he chuckles, “practically humping my hand with how desperate your little pussy is.” He leans down to press a chaste kiss over your clit, “Gonna be a good girl and squirt on my fingers?”
“Y-Yes!” You throw your head back, “ ‘m your good girl.” You weakly croak out while grinding your pussy on his fingers.
Jungkook laughs under his breath, “Go on then, cum on my fingers,” he leans down to envelop your clit in his mouth, suckling with a hint of teeth.
Your mind blanks out as you go stiff, your hands grip his hair tightly and you feel your cunt pulse wildly. Your orgasm hits you hard as spurts of slick squirt out from your abused cunt. You throb around his fingers and weakly try to push him away, “ ‘s too much..” You whine tiredly while shaking, “No moreeee,” you pout.
Jungkook pulled away with a smirk, “Messy little thing you are,” he says this as he wipes his lower lip/chin. You grumble back at him and roll away to lay on your side, “What was that, I couldn’t hear you.” Jungkook says while going over to lay on top of you, “What did you say?” He grins as he peppers your ear with tiny kisses.
“I said you broke my pussy, my leg keeps shaking.” You huff, “Get off you’re heavy!” You whine whilst wiggling around.
“Who did?” Jungkook just lives to annoy you.
“You did!” You whine louder.
“That’s right,” he smacks your ass hard, feeling accomplished with himself.
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TAGLIST: @fragmentof-indifference @jungkooksseuphoria @kooliv @angelarin @jjeonjjk7 @lilliankoo @pb-n-juju @ellesalazar @saweetspoiled @laylasbunbunny @prettyprincejk @cherrysainttt @hyunjinswifeee @joongraduatewithonor @hellbornsworld @leire-mia @m1sss1mp @lissful @winkii @lifeless-firefly @exactlygreatcoffee @taestoess @ayalies @floweryjeons @softtcurse @lilspinachwrld @tearyjjeon @littleobsessedkitty @lovelovelovebts @angeljmnie @rerefundslocals @bangtans-mama @thvhoe @maddkitt @tvse @ohjeon @teteswtnr @jkslovey12 @kelsyx33 @milfpo1ice @sluttydidi @ztyur @beomgyuult @shescharlie @sweet-sourhotcoco @lalita-7 @hazzzelsdimension @p34rluv @kook-net @bonita0-0 @vmapy @dahliadaenerys @frieschan
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thatonegreenleaf · 3 months ago
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here is a resource list of *most* of the cc/mods I use to make my sims/ the amazingly talented creators that create them!
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⤞ g e n e t i c s ⤝
🍃 - @northernsiberiawinds (face/body overlays, presets, skin details. maxis match/maxis mix/alpha.) some faves: ♡ | ♡ | ♡
🍃 - @obscurus-sims (face/body overlays, presets, sliders. maxis mix/alpha.) some faves: ♡ | ♡ | ♡
🍃 - @sims3melancholic (face/body overlays, skin details, eyebrows, contacts. maxis mix/alpha.) some faves: ♡ | ♡ | ♡
🍃 - @nesurii (face/body overlays, skin details. maxis match/maxis mix.) some faves: ♡ | ♡ | ♡
🍃 - @luumia (sliders, body hair. maxis match.) some faves: ♡ | ♡ | ♡
🍃 - @golyhawhaw (masculine face/body overlays, facial hair, skin details. maxis mix/alpha.) some faves: ♡ | ♡ | ♡
🍃 - misc: teeth by @magic-bot, face details by @okruee, eyelashes by @mmsims, wrinkles by @miikocc, belly overlays by @sammi-xox, non-default eyes by me.
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⤞ m a k e u p / p i e r c i n g s / t a t t o o s ⤝
🍃 - me (eyeshadows, and some eyeliners and lipsticks) some faves: ♡ | ♡ | ♡
🍃 - @thepeachyfaerie (wide variety of colourful/neutral/bold/alternative eyeshadows, liners, lipsticks, highlights, and blushes.) some faves: ♡ | ♡ | ♡
🍃 - @pralinesims (extensive collection of earrings, facial piercings, and makeup.) some faves: ♡ | ♡ | ♡
🍃 - @reevaly (large collection of tattoos that range from everyday to grunge to fantasy.) some faves: ♡ | ♡ | ♡ <- tsr
🍃 - flowers and dots tattoos by @starrysimsie, dragon and snake tattoos by @ms-marysims, body blush by @plumbheadsims, face blush by @/virtygo.
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⤞ h a i r s ⤝
🍃 - @simandy (wide variety of everyday/fantasy/alternative hairs. m/f body frames. maxis mix.) - some faves: ♡ | ♡ | ♡
🍃 - @wistfulpoltergeist (masculine hairs of varying lengths. mostly m body frame. maxis match.) - some faves: ♡ | ♡ | ♡
🍃 - @simstrouble (everyday/formal hairs. most feature a fun accessory! m/f body frames. maxis match.) - some faves: ♡ | ♡ | ♡
🍃 - @johnnysimmer (shorter & masculine hairs. m/f body frames. maxis mix.) - some faves: ♡ | ♡ | ♡
🍃 - @sheabuttyr (wide variety of natural and protective hairstyles for textured hair. m/f body frames. maxis match.) - some faves: ♡ | ♡ | ♡
🍃 - @thekunstwollen (everyday/formal styles. straight, curly and textured. m/f body frames. maxis mix.) - some faves: ♡ | ♡ | ♡
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⤞ c l o t h e s & a c c e s s o r i e s ⤝
🍃 - @nucrests (casual clothes and accessories with many options for variations. m/f body frames. maxis match.) - some faves: ♡ | ♡ | ♡
🍃 - @sforzcc (themed sets of casualwear with a large amount of variations. m/f body frames. maxis match.) - some faves: ♡ | ♡ | ♡
🍃 - @ooobsooo [KK's sims] (casual to formal masculine clothes, lots of layers and patterns. mostly m body frame. alpha.) - some faves: ♡ | ♡ | ♡
🍃 - @gorillax3-cc (wide variety of casual/formal/alternative clothes and accessories. m/f body frames. alpha.) - some faves: ♡ | ♡ | ♡
🍃 - @serenity-cc (many styles of everyday clothes and accessories in themed sets. m/f body frames. maxis match.) - some faves: ♡ | ♡ | ♡
🍃 - @sentate (variety of clothes and accessories ranging from casual to high couture & avant garde. f/m body frames. maxis match.) - some faves: ♡ | ♡ | ♡
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⤞ m i s c e l l a n e o u s ⤝
🍃 - more columns mod by @/weerbesu
🍃 - hide CAS UI toggle files by @vyxated
🍃 - most poses I use are by @helgatisha. some faves: ♡ | ♡ | ♡
🍃 - reshade preset by me.
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there is so much CC I use that it would be impossible to include it all here, but this covers the majority! If you're looking for something specific, check my wcif tag, and if it's not there, feel free to send an ask, and I’ll try to get to it when I am able! also, if anything above leads to the wrong place, please let me know! there's a lot of links 😅
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milkbobatyun · 3 months ago
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the brief taste of freedom
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pairing: yandere!il capitano x reader
genre: angstober, events, yandere
summary: as the captain's wife, others thought the title brought power, fame and money. yet, it was weighed down by the chains of confinement. your yearning to escape had been caught by the captain. would you be able to escape, unscathed?
word count: 1k
C O N T E N T W A R N I N G : yandere behaviour, slight manipulation (?)
a/n: and with that, this fic marks the conclusion of angstober. i hope everyone reads them has enjoyed the fics as much as i have enjoyed writing them (though some were quite rushed LMAO) here where i live, it's already october 31st, so for those who celebrate halloween, happy halloween and have fun trick or treating !! (mini fun fact: this year, i did a home-made cosplay of choso and offered candy/scared children hehe ⸜(。˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡
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as a child, you had dreamed that love and marriage meant chaste kisses, long vows filled with love and adoration. you relished in the mirages of stunning dresses, chiming wedding bells and petals falling from heaven. but your hopes and fantasies were dashed when you were offered like a prize to the first harbinger, il capitano.
he was a quiet, stoic man of little words. it was no surprise that the wedding ceremony was subdued, a simple signing of a contract, the scratching of pen on paper replacing the chimes of wedding bells.
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you should’ve expected this from a harbinger. he held total control over what you could do. your name as il capitano’s wife was merely a façade.
the weight of your title was a mockery. it was supposed to symbolise power, pride, even admiration from the nobles of snezhnaya, but it only brough you confinement and solitude. you had to ask his permission to leave the house, so you stuck to the shadows of the mansion, a wife in name only.
there were no late-night conversations, endearing glances, romantic dinners under candlelight. in fact, you spent most of your time dining alone, the grandfather clock’s rhythmic beats the only sound in the silence.
sometimes, you sat at your window, hearing the maids gossiping about a new festival in town, their laughter and chatter striking a pang of longing within your yearning heart.
he allowed you material things, but outings were out of the question. with every refusal, every permission denied, the fire in you grew stronger. you wanted to escape this frigid prison and experience life.
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he knew of how you would sneak into the warmth of the greenhouse at night, peering up at the night sky of snezhnaya, relishing in the display of lights every night.
but recently, he had noticed footprints in the snow, ones that trailed from beneath your window. his butler informed him of how the madame would often retire early in the night, silence engulfing her quarters, with orders to not disturb her until the morning.
il capitano didn’t think there would be a day when he caught you, sneaking away under the watchful gaze of the stars.
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il capitano stood by the floor to ceiling windows, overlooking the gardens like a silent guardian. in the distance, he could see the warm glow of festival lights, the people bustling like ants.
nursing a glass of wine in his hand, il capitano watched the people mill about.
suddenly, in the shadows of the garden, he caught sight of a huddled figure, wrapped in the silken sheets of your blankets. they clung to the shadows, feet treading carefully in the ice cold, white powder.
anger seized him in its ugly grip. how dare you sneak out of the manor, when he provided you everything you could ask for. his clawed hand tightened against the wine glass, almost crushing the fragile object in his grasp.
silently, he abandoned the cracked glass on the nearest table, his furred cloak settled around his shoulders as he stalked towards the door, footsteps echoing with the intent to confront the one who dared to escape from his grasp.
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you were so close to the hole in the garden wall, freedom just a mere few steps away.
your movements are stilled as a cold, clawed hand crushes your wrist in its wrathful grasp, fear coursing down your spine, turning you into an icy statue.
“where,” his voice growled, a threatening edge to his voice. “do you think you’re going?” the cold, no, fear rendered you speechless, your teeth chattering against each other.
“the…the festival,” you manage to whimper out, face grimacing at the force of his grasp on your wrist. you were certain it would be turning tender purple and blue the next morning. your breath was caught in your throat, the last warm puff of air suspended in the air, as though it was holding its breath, waiting to see what the captain would say.
“your little games, it ends here, tonight, in this very garden,” il capitano hisses, his grip unrelenting. under his armour, he could feel how your pulse raced, its rhythm erratic and feeble.
with your remaining hand, you clutched the blanket tighter around you. il capitano could see, underneath, you had donned the plain clothes of commoners.
fury consumed him like a flame. he gave you premium silks from liyue, commissioning the famous lady chiori to design your outfits based on the latest trends. and yet, you lower yourself to the level of those lowly ants and don their filthy clothes.
a muscle twitched in il capitano’s jaw, but your view is obscured by his heavy helmet.
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il capitano weighed his choices carefully.
forbid you from leaving and lose your favour or let you go to the festival and risk you running away.
neither seemed favourable to his calculating mind, so he chose to compromise. he would sacrifice his precious time to accompany you to the commoner’s festival.
with a heavy sigh, il capitano relented.
“if you are so intent on mingling with the commoners,” he sighed, voice edged with disdain, “then i will accompany you.”
lit only by the faint moonlight, he watched as astonishment and joy settled into your features, your brows raised in surprise. il capitano, the feared harbinger, would spare a morsel of his time to accompany his wife to a festival hosted by ordinary snezhnaya citizens?
that was unheard of, unprecedented. who knew what rumours the nobles, with an abundance of free time on their hands, would gossip.
the il capitano, going soft for his wife. utterly scandalous.
“but…” the words had barely escaped your lips before you hastily shut your mouth, intent that no more words fell from your lips, lest it cause him to change his mind.
“enough.” his tone was final, leaving no space for argument. “you will have your night, however, you will be under my watch and,” he continued, voice laced with disgust. “you will change out of those filthy clothes before you leave.”
it wasn’t a statement you had wanted, for you didn’t desire to draw attention to yourself when you attended such events, however, something in his voice held a glimmer of a sharp, hidden weapon, a clear warning: this fantasy of escaping would end here, he would not be lenient.
for tonight, your freedom had been granted. you could only pray to the archons that il capitano would feel good humoured enough to accompany you once more, at another time.
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taglist (open): @leehanscorydora, @pastelmitzuki
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∧,,,∧ ( ̳• · • ̳)  © curated with love by milkbobayun 2024 / づ ♡
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deus-ex-mona · 5 months ago
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i miss her…
#cant believe i forgot about her till the photobook q&a im so sorry witch mona~~~~~~~#press f for honeypre atelier gachas it was gone too soon™️#(currently e x t r e m e l y worried and stressed for tomorrow like never before b u t i have to appear like im fine sobs save me monachann)#(can i go on a stress-prompted tangent here about something inane? no? toooo bad im gonna go off anyway~~~~)#ok so. like. since witch mona is the image i have up ‘ere and since it’s still 七月… today’s tangent will be on irl spooky stories!!#s o. presenting a decently repressed memory from my childhood that resurfaced while i was hibernating at home:#anyways. well. thoughts about the afterlife can vary from person to person yes? there’s no one true correct belief after all#but the one question that unites us all is probably the one and only ‘are ghosts real?’#and well. for personal reasons i think so. i mean i’ve seen this one dude i hate get possessed a couple of times so welp. cant deny it ig.#wild story about that actually. back in the day my family’s finances were allegedly doing so badly that [dude i hate] had to pick up#a *c e r t a i n* side hustle for extra cash. that side hustle? literal grave digging at the cemetary. at night no less#and *ofc* he wasn’t respectful about it in the least so ofc some spirits followed him home. yay. free roommates.#one(?) of them even took residence in my room at the time and im 80% sure they ate my history textbook :( much sads#anyways well once that guy had too much to drink (which was rather often tbh) he’d get possessed. fun!#the only possession i ever saw was the n-rarity angry ghost who’d just huff and puff in silence with unfocused eyes most of the time#he’d occasionally put on a leather jacket too. but that was like a r-rarity event that didn’t happen that often#my mother had the chance to also witness the mosquito (who tried to barge into my room for fresh blood) and the 姑娘 (self-explanatory)#which is kinda unfair tbh. i wanted to see the ur-rarity ones too :( mostly bc it’d be funny to see a guy i hate act ooc (impure intentions)#oh right. ​how did we get the dude out of his possession? we just shook his arm really hard. prolly caused some lasting effects but who know#i think he could also just sleep off the possession but idk i was asleep for the ur-rarity incidents.#cant ask the one witness of it bc i dont want to bring back unnecessary flashbacks of [guy we hate]#anyways it’s been years since we moved out from that place and i still want my history textbook back. mostly for the principle of it but—#and so that’s the tangent of the day. i feel weirdly less stressed now thanks witch mona#i do wonder how my grandparents are faring on this 七月 though…#b u t !!!!! tomorrow’s date on the lunar calendar says it’s an auspicious day for wishful activity and starting a new job!!! so… maybe~~~~?#hauauauauauauauuauaaaaaa anyways insane tangent over stream mona’s new album ok bye#oops forgor to disable rbs i hate how easy it is to forget to use this function man
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lunamugetsu · 1 year ago
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Bruce gets an alert from the batcomputer saying that the alarms at Arkham are going off.
When he gets there he sees that none of the criminals have broken out, someone has broken in. When looking at the footage he finds Danny and Jazz sitting in the cemetery holding a ouija board in front of Amadeus Arkham's (the founder of Arkham Asylum) tombstone.
Batman: what are you two doing?
Jazz: I have a paper due and I wanted to ask some questions about the article Amadeus wrote. (she turns back to the tombstone) So I have some questions about page three paragraph 2. I don't know if it's slang for your time or just a terminology we don't use anymore. But you wrote about scribbling walls that talked. Any chance you could provide context on that.
Batman: (turns to Danny) And what are you doing here?
Danny: she needed help with the ouija board
Batman who was about to scold them for trespassing on Arkham Asylum grounds stays quiet as the planchette on the the ouija board starts moving spelling out the words.
I C A N E X P L A I N
M A K E S U R E Y O U R E T A K I N G N O T E S
This idea comes from that when you're writing research papers you're going to need to reference articles and some people say that they reference articles that are over a hundred years old. Combine that with that some people will contact the writers of the articles to ask them questions about what they were writing and you got this story!
Also in the Arkham Asylum game, there is a cemetery on the property, which I presume consists of inmates. Because you can find Amadeus Arkham's grave there. And Amadeus was the one who created Arkham Asylum who later had to be committed himself because he went insane.
This story can either go comical or heart wrenching. Just various scenarios of seeing Danny just bringing the ouija board with him everywhere so he could chat with the ghosts that are around Gotham. Who are surprisingly pretty tame when compared to the ghosts he sees at Amity. Maybe he has weekly lunches with Lady Gotham. Heart wrenching if you want to go down the path of Danny talking with Bruce's parents or any of the deceased parents from the batfamily.
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satinestales · 7 months ago
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❝self destructive tendencies❞ | qimir x fem!reader
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pairing: qimir x fem!reader
● this is a 3rd pov, if you want to read 2nd pov, here●
summary: A week has passed since the battle on Khofar and the startling reveal of her former friend. Qimir, the man behind the mask and the murderer of her comrades took her to a remote island, far away from the Republic's surveillance, after she sustained severe injuries. She's been keeping her distance from him, trying to ignore her hidden feelings. Yet, when his thoughts merge with hers, the vow she made to herself becomes almost impossible to keep.
warnings: english is not my first language, sexual tension, lots of sexual tension, corruption, sexual themes/dreams, E Y E C O N T A C T, qimir, mentions of blood and injuries
author's note: I could not be a jedi I'd turn into aquaman if he asked me to join him
now playing, love in the sky by the weeknd
*:..。♡*゚¨゚゚·*:..。♡౨ৎ 🍓。˚🍰♡ ˚..。♡*゚¨゚゚·*:..。♡ ︎
The moon hung low over the horizon, casting an eerie glow on the waves that lapped against the shores of the ghostly island. Qimir’s silhouette stood out against the backdrop of the night sky, his presence a constant reminder of the blood and carnage he left on Khofar. As she lay on the rough sand, the pain from her injuries pulsed faintly, and she could not shake the mixture of fear and thirst that his proximity stirred within her. The island was a planet unknown to her, and as much as she tried to examine the surface, its location remained elusive. She supposed it might have been somewhere in the Outer Rim or beyond. Somewhere where the Republic would have a difficult way of finding her. World away from the Republic’s watchful eyes, and here, with only Qimir for company, she felt both vulnerable and strangely contented.
She decided to relax on the beach, further away from Qimir’s constant presence that melted her thoughts. However, luck wasn't on her side; minutes after settling in, he walked past her to his favorite bathing spot, smirk on his face as he acknowledged her presence. It was late at night, her legs and arms sore from the repetitive training she put herself through. The island offered few diversions. Waiting for Qimir’s next move or for Sol to find her wasn’t her idea of a perfect day. The injuries covering her body were difficult to ignore, and she refused to let Qimir get close enough to her to heal them. She told herself she would rather bleed out than feel his touch on her skin. Deep down, though, she knew the real reason for keeping him at bay.
So, she lay there, absentmindedly playing with a rock she found, irritated by his presence but too weary to consider moving again. She had to admit her fault; she had set up camp right in front of his favorite spot. Over the past week, she had seen him bare many times. First unbothered but lately it had gotten under her skin. She had been friends with Qimir for some time before discovering his true identity behind the mask and his responsibility for her friends' murders. Their deaths pained her, but the betrayal and realization of his deception cut deeper. After many years, she thought she found herself a friend outside the temple. One that she could share her interests and secrets with, without the fear of being judged by the Jedi. She told him about her fears and likes. Her doubts in the order and her wish to help people as much as she could. About her hate and desire. The Sith emotions. Now he’s using them to lure her in and trap her on the other side.
She wasn’t the most perceptive, but his intentions were clear. He knew her feelings, her likes, and dislikes; she had shared them with him when she believed he was her friend and a supplier. Even a blind person could see his thoughts, and her strength in the Force allowed her to delve into his mind, revealing more than she wished to know.
She couldn’t tear her eyes away as he slowly shed his clothes to enter the water, a routine he seemed to relish. Despite her experiences in battles and missions, witnessing the horrible conditions and lack of hygiene, even her comrades didn’t bathe as frequently as Qimir did before her. She considered herself fortunate; at least he smelled good, even if the scent of sandalwood mixed with citrus fruit drove her mad. She smelled it when she woke up, during meals and training, and before sleep. She felt him everywhere. She wasn’t sure for how much longer she could endure it.
She studied the muscles of his back as he swam slowly, admiring them from her vantage point. He was undeniably strong, scars marring his skin a testament to the pain he had endured. She observed how his dark hair moved with his motions, how he ran his long thick fingers through it while washing it gently. His biceps tensed as he splashed water around his neck, and she noticed the way he caressed his chest, attempting to cleanse away the day’s dirt.
It was only when she accidentally crushed the rock in half that she realized the intensity of her stare. Clearing her throat, she sat up and leaned against the mossy bank behind her, feeling shame wash over her. She was convinced his own dreams had started to corrupt her.
One of the curses of being a Jedi was the ability to read minds, and Qimir was no exception. She saw his thoughts vividly, filled with bright colors that sent adrenaline coursing through her veins. She wondered if he wanted her to delve into his mind, to make her believe he desired her, or if he simply didn’t care. She feared he could read her thoughts too, despite her lifelong ability to block out others with ease.
She lied to herself, convincing herself that she was immune to his ideas, desires, and magnetic charm. But every time he looked at her, towered over her, or she smelled him in the air, her knees buckled, her stomach tightened, and she fought against the need to press her legs together. She felt sick, and his mind brushing against hers didn’t help.
She felt it every time he drew near. He visualized her hands in his mind, how they caressed his scars and shoulders. She saw his hair falling down as he towered over her, gently pushing her against the cold floor of his cave. She felt his breath against her neck, his fingers pulling her hair, his skin pressed against hers. In his dreams, she never resisted. He was corrupting her in his dreams, and she never once objected in them. She was embarrassed he got her mannerisms right.
She was so lost in their shared thoughts that she didn’t notice Qimir making his way out of the water, his eyes fixated on her with dangerous intensity. He carefully leaned down to grab a towel, amusement playing on his lips. He didn’t want to wake her from her thoughts, whatever they may have been.
As he gently dried himself with the soft cloth, not taking his eyes off her, he tried to read her mind, even if he failed millions of times before. He never had difficulty reading someone; one look at them and he could see their whole past. But with her, he had no idea what she was thinking or planning, or what images played in her head. She was strong, stronger than the ones he had met before, and he admired that. He praised her strength in the Force and her ability to protect herself from her nemesis. Like him.
But he could read body language. He noticed how she tensed around him when he walked past her. How her chest started rising faster whenever he stared her down. Her goosebumps when they brushed against each other. How she pressed her legs together when he towered over her. And how she was now crushing the rock in her hand, gazing in his direction.
“You can always join me, you know that.” He breathed out, letting the cloth fall to the ground, replacing it with his long blouse. She almost wanted to take the top from him just so she could continue her view, but when she finally recollected her thoughts, she wanted to slap herself. “It would help with your wounds when you don’t let me heal them.” He uttered, dressing himself, not breaking eye contact with her. He liked her stare. He liked how she fought with her emotions and how they reflected in her eyes. It pleased him.
“I’m okay,” she faked a smile, swallowing the ridiculous amount of saliva in her mouth. She forced herself to look somewhere other than his strong forearms or how he dragged the pants up his muscular legs. She found a cute shell, admiring it from afar.
She didn’t catch the grin on his face as her face turned pink and she clenched her fists. He was amused with her reactions, but her ripped bandage and the blood revealing itself underneath caught his full attention. His face froze, along with his movements while buttoning up his shirt. He would never touch her unless she wanted him to, but her leg was nowhere near being healed and with the lack of medical supplies on this island, she’d lose it long before she’d be able to leave the island.
“Let me help you.” It wasn’t a question, more of a subtle order. She didn’t miss it. A week ago, on Khofar, Qimir had stopped himself before fatally hurting her, but he still landed a strike on her leg that had trouble healing. She was stubborn enough to push him away when he offered his help, and now she started to slowly regret it.
“I don’t need anything from you,” she hissed at him, catching a glimpse of his unbuttoned blouse.
“You’re a powerful Jedi, and I don’t doubt you’d be still as fierce as you are now without your leg,” he murmured, making his way towards her, leaving his bag and shoes near the water. “If you want to risk it.” She watched him tilt his head as he slowly approached her. She could only see the images in his mind, his plans and ideas. But underneath it all, he didn’t mean it in a bad way. He wanted to help her. In his own way. He was her friend; he knew her weaknesses and strengths. He knew what she wanted, and he was willing to give it to her. But she couldn’t erase the lying and murder of her friends. She wanted her friend back. Maybe something else this time, but her trust in him had faded. Now it was just Qimir, confusing her thoughts and making her rethink her morals. She felt as disgusted with him as she felt with herself. But she understood him. Or at least tried to.
So, she didn’t oppose, letting him kneel in front of her, his hands carefully reaching out to her ripped bandage above her knee. He was so close she could smell him again. His hair fell into his face, covering his eyes that were focusing only on her wound. His fingers worked fast but tenderly as he lifted her thigh to unwrap the bandage. She swallowed hard, feeling his veiny hand below her leg. She was scared he could feel her burning skin, hoping he would mistake it as a result of the injury.
“I didn’t mean to hurt you on Khofar,” she heard him whisper, gripping the sand below her as he threw away the bandage, the cold air kissing her open wound. She almost heard pity in his voice. She was certain she imagined it.
She begged herself to look away, but her eyes betrayed her as they glared down at his hand that was almost as big as her thigh. He covered the wound, not touching it fully, concentrating on restoring her cells.
She was fascinated by how quickly the wound closed up, leaving only a small scar across her thigh. She had wanted to learn how to force heal ever since she lost her friend to a fatal injury as a kid, but the Jedi never taught her. No matter how hard she pleaded. Whenever she asked, they gave the same answer: only dark side users possess this power. She always felt it was ridiculous.
“How do you do it?” she managed to ask, ignoring Qimir’s confused stare as he picked up his head and drew his hand away from her. But he didn’t move position and kept kneeling between her feet. “How do you force heal?” she felt embarrassed asking, but he was one of her only chances to learn.
A soft smile crept to his lips as he moved his eyes from her face to her hands. She suddenly became aware of her vulnerable position.
“In order to heal someone,” he started, softness in his voice, no signs of mockery. “You need to focus on your own energy, imagine it and visualize it. Imagine its color, like you do with the Force.” He continued, his hands moving in motion with his words.
She could feel the warmth radiating off him as he sat centimeters away, his wet hair framing his sharp features. His eyes were dark, only the light of the moon reflecting in them. His lips were full, stretched as he shared his knowledge with her. She didn’t move a muscle and returned his stare. It was only the two of them.
“The Jedi teach only one way. Physical way. Taking your physical energy and giving it to someone who needs it,” he whispered, leaning his head to the side, giving her a view of his sharp jaw. His neck was thick, his collarbones defined. “But there is another way.” He stopped to look at her, examining her expression. She was listening intently, breathing fast, and her eyes bored so deeply into him he was certain she could read everything he was thinking. He let her.
“Below the surface of consciousness are powerful emotions. Anger. Fear. Loss.” He started listing, his eyes twitching between her eyes and her lips. “Desire.”
Her leg muscles twitched, her core burning up. She wanted to bury herself.
“Only Sith feel those emotions,” she whispered back, denying herself. She saw a smile tugging on the corner of his mouth before he lowered his gaze.
“You can draw energy from them, direct them in any way you want,” he purred, looking back at her, letting her feel his emotions. “However, whenever you want.” He lowered his voice as he stretched the last words, reading her face.
He knew she read his mind. He knew she saw the images that kept him awake and his wishes. He had had them since he met her months ago, and when he sensed her attraction toward him, they only intensified. He wanted her and was simply waiting for her to admit the same to herself, no matter how long it would take.
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koushirouizumi · 7 months ago
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{S H A M A N K I N G} ~ Ep. #40 M A N T A vs. H A O
"Y O H-KUN AND I ARE F R I E N D S {T O M O D A C H I}!!!" - M A N T A, D e f i a n t l y
Bonus:
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{Cap'd by Me} / @koushirouizumi {Do Not Re-p o s t} {Do Not C o p y} {Do Not Re-produce Without my Permission Under Any Circumstances} (Please A S K to U s e!)
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crappymixtape · 1 year ago
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because of you • part one
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PART II • PART III • PART IV • PART V • EPILOGUE // REQ -> @sattlersquarry ❝ an enemies to lovers fic with Steve? 💙 maybe they have to put aside their differences to fight upside down stuff and realize they actually have a lot in common 👀 • 18+  | ( 2.1k – little bit of king!steve, mostly angst with a dash of fluff, enemies to idiots in love, steve x reader )
B E C A U S E O F Y O U • P A R T O N E 🎶 good girls ( john carpenter remix ), chvrches
“Why is she even here?”
“Steve!”
A loud smack cut the air in two as Robin slapped a hand against Steve’s shoulder, rendering the rest of group there in Max’s trailer silent.
Your arms were crossed tightly over your chest, cheeks burning under his gaze, lips twisted into a scowl and trying hard to hold back the daggers you wanted so badly to throw at him.
“She doesn’t know what the hell we’re up against! How’s she supposed to–“
“Steve, none of us knew either, cut her a break.”
“Cut her a break and then what? We all get eaten by a fucking melted people monster?”
“That’s not fair–“
“It’s fine! It’s fine, Nancy,” you cut the girl off, standing quickly from your spot on the couch.
They’d been talking like this since you showed up. Like you weren’t right there in the room with them and honestly you kind of wished you weren’t anymore.
“I need some air,” you grumbled before giving Steve a pointed glare and shouldering open the front door.
The air outside was crisp as you sat down on the front stoop. Not a cloud in the sky and sunlight washing everything in soft golden light, but it all still felt so dark. Like it was harboring thick shadows. Long, spindly, and pitch black. Waiting to wrap their twisted fingers around you.
Waiting to dig into you and squeeze tight.
Waiting to lift you twenty feet into the air and snap your bones like twigs.
Waiting to leave you for dead.
And here was Steve fucking Harrington asking what right you had to be there. Asking what purpose were you gonna serve amongst this “holier than thou” joke of an army. Steve, Robin, Nancy and Eddie had already gotten their asses handed to them by what they’d called demobats, Steve arguably needing serious medical attention, and they wanted to go back? It took everything you had to not leave right there on the spot.
Hell, maybe you should, you thought for a minute. You didn’t owe them anything, especially Steve, but you did owe it to your best friend. The one who basically had a hit out on him. The one who wouldn’t hurt a goddamn fly, but all of Hawkins had already decided he was guilty and you weren't about to leave him.
Eddie.
❝ SO SAVE YOUR BREATH, GIVE A LITTLE OF WHAT YOU HAVE LEFT – DO THEY KNOW SOMETHING I DON’T? ❞
You met him two years ago under the bleachers at the Homecoming football game. It seemed like the perfect place to smoke the joint you’d messily rolled in the car right before you’d come into the stadium and apparently you’d been right, but someone else had already laid claim to it...
“Hate to break it to you sweetheart, but this is kind of my spot.”
He’d been all black leather and denim. Dark curls and clove. Silver rings and chains and heavy boots and maybe you should’ve been more intimidated, but the smile lines at the corners of his mouth gave him away.
“Don’t see a sign anywhere,” you’d shot back, no hesitation. Looked over at him all skeptics and attitude and took a long drag from your joint. Blew the smoke off in his direction and it made him grin like an idiot.
“Been sellin’ weed down here for like…the last three years so–actually, yeah. What the fuck, man. Someone owes me a sign.”
...And that was it, you were a goner. Laughing mid-toke and coughing so hard you cried and it made him feel so bad he gave you a baggy for free. Eddie "the freak" Munson and you – best friends.
Skipped all the stupid dances and football games with you. Paraded around the lunch room like an idiot with you. Threw fries back at the jocks for you when they called you a loser and sat on the floor in the bathroom with you when you cried.
So fuck “King Steve” Harrington.
You had every right to be there, probably even more than he did and you were gonna tell him to his face, but—
“Can I sit?”
The sudden sound of someone else made you jump.
“Jesus, Eddie.”
“Sorry,” he chuckled and sat down next to you. Gave you a sidelong glance and a small lopsided smile. “He’s really not so bad–”
“You’re joking. Right? Tell me you’re joking.”
The boy hummed, dropped his gaze down to the rings wrapped around his fingers and twisted the one on his thumb.
“He doesn’t want me here. None of them do,” you grumbled, frustration fed further by his non-answer and it pulled his eyes back up to you.
“Hey now, that’s not true–”
“Yes it is! Even Nancy looks at me like a kicked puppy.”
That pulled a laugh from him. Made him scoot closer to you and bump his shoulder into yours. “Listen, sweetheart,” the nickname made you soften, but you tried to keep your scowl in place, “We’re all in over our fuckin’ heads, hm? And Stevie boy…he’s seen some shit. He’s just trying to–”
“Just trying to what? Be a complete dickhead about it? Mission accomplished.”
Eddie sighed and roughed a hand over his face. Rested his elbows on his knees and laced his fingers together. He knew what you felt because he’d felt it too. Knew what it was like to get laughed at and mocked in the lunch room. Knew how it was supposed to be between him and the other boy. Hell, he nearly cut Harrington’s face off with a broken bottle a few days ago, but one thing was clear.
Change was possible and Steve Harrington was proof, he just wasn’t great at showing it.
“Alright. He could be less of a dick,” he conceded, propping his chin in his hand and looking at you with his big brown eyes. How could you be mad at that?
You mumbled under your breath about that not being the only thing, but fine, okay, only for you, Eds.
Reaching over he flicked at your fingers and looked at you from under his curls with a stern pinch between his brows. “He’s helping me, sweetheart. They all are. Shit, without them I’d probably be in jail already. Or in Carver’s trunk,” he tried a laugh, but it fell short at the end with the weight of his words and it made you grab at his hand and squeeze it.
“Shut up,” you chided softly, no heat behind it. The anger that had been swelling in your chest all but extinguished.
Silence settled between the two of you then, heavy and tinged at the edges with worry. With everything that was at risk and it started to gnaw at the pit of your stomach. What if you couldn’t fix it? And even if you could, this Vecna asshole was about to end the world anyway so what the hell did it matter?
How were a bunch of kids going to do anything about it?
“Ahem,” the door knocked into your back and jolted you back to earth. Pulled a gasp from you and when you looked up over your shoulder you felt your anger return ten fold. “We’re leaving, geniuses,” Steve announced, pushing at you with the door.
“Least you know you’re an idiot,” you mumbled under your breath, standing up from your spot to glare at him at eye level.
“Real cute,” Steve shouldered past you on the stoop, took the last two steps in one go and turned to face you both as he landed on the grass. “For you, Munson,” he said, throwing a mask at Eddie, “Courtesy of Mayfield.”
“What’s that for?” you couldn’t help asking as Max appeared at your side and pointed so casually – too casually – at the mask.
“Gonna steal a Winnebago. Get that on, dingus. Let’s go.”
“Nice,” Eddie grinned up at the red-headed girl and yanked the mask on over his head, “Thanks, Red.”
“Let’s go,” Steve urged, waving his hands at everyone to get out of the house and you felt your heart racing.
“Steal a Winnebago? Eddie. Fuck that–”
“Honey, I’m already a wanted man–” Eddie cut you off and readjusted the ridiculous looking mask a bit. “–c’mon,” he said, tugging at your belt loop to get with it.
“I–that doesn’t mean you can just steal–”
“We’re way past that,” Dustin chimed in, shoving past you just like everyone else, “Besides, if the world’s gonna end anyway, what’s it matter?”
Shit. The kid had a point. It was probably fine. It was just a trailer. Maybe you could give it back afterward? You needed it more than they did. Right?
“Dammit,” you grumbled under your breath, now the only one still standing around. “Wait for me!”
❝ THEY TELL ME I’M HELL-BENT ON REVENGE, I CUT MY TEETH ON WEAKER MEN, I WON’T APOLOGIZE AGAIN ❞
The first time you ran into Steve Harrington was sophomore year. In the hallway before Click’s class. You were cramming everything into your bag, but struggling with your history book when you heard it coming.
Tommy Hagan’s stupid laugh.
Your stomach sank, eyes glued on your things and trying to ignore it. He was in your science class the year before along with his ditzy girlfriend Carol and they always made sure to get a spot in the back just to make out.
“Need some help?”
When you finally looked up at him he’d stopped right in front of you, the grin on his lips sharklike as Carol smirked out from under his arm. Another boy you didn’t know was standing just behind them wearing a stupid member’s only jacket, half unzipped, and had hair that sat perfectly in place. Too perfect.
“That looks heavy, hm?” Tommy said grabbing your book, voice all saccharine sweet and sharp around the edges. Flipping through the pages he pulled a face, clicked his tongue and weighed it in his hand, then made a show of dumping it on the floor. “Whoops. Sorry!” he half-laughed and your cheeks burned.
“Bite me, Hagan,” you snapped back, bending down to grab your book, and it only made his grin grow wider.
“Ooo. She’s fiesty today, Stevie. I like it.”
And then he chimed in. Stevie. The had-to-be-douchebag that everyone called 'King Steve.'
“Probably on her period,” he said scoffing a laugh, all confidence and bravado and the look on his face was so smug. Thought he was so clever and funny and when you finally turned around it was to take the two steps up to him in one.
“Really? My period? So original.”
It made him swallow hard. Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat as he blinked back the flicker of surprise glinting in his eyes. He took a quick glance at Tommy like he didn’t want to disappoint him and then hardened his expression. Crowded down over you and nodded.
“Explains you being such a bitch.”
And it took the air from your lungs. Stuck in your sides sharp like a knife and you felt your throat tighten as Tommy and Carol snickered, but you wouldn’t let him have the satisfaction. Not here.
“Yeah. Bet you wish you had an excuse for being such an asshole,” you cut at him and it pulled an Oh shit! out of Tommy as he doubled over laughing, Steve’s mouth dropped open in shock.
Your feet couldn’t carry you away fast enough as you shoved your book in your bag and turned to leave, but you refused to run. Refused to let them see weakness, and as Tommy yelled down the hallway after you about tampons you raised a middle finger high in the air to punctuate just how much you hated them all.
Eddie met you in the bathroom after that, the one nobody used on the other side of school, and you told him everything. He let you have the joint he had tucked behind his ear for emergencies, listened to you and told you they weren’t worth it. Especially not Steve. Because even though Tommy started it, Steve was the one who dug in. Could have left it alone but didn’t and that was what really got you.
How obvious it was he knew how shitty they were being, but went along with it anyway because he had to maintain his status. Had to uphold how ‘cool’ he was and keep the line in the sand drawn between him and ‘the freaks’ like you.
So he wouldn’t get a second chance.
And he wasn’t worth your time.
Not then and sure as hell not now.
[ NOTE: THIS IS PART ONE OF A THREE PART SERIES, PART TWO AND THREE TO COME SOON ]
crappymixtape™ • steve harrington masterlist // stranger things masterlist ♥️ reblogs and comments keep me going, friends! ily! ♥️
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diana-thyme · 1 year ago
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Greek Gods 101: A Masterlist
This is a masterlist of the “Greek Gods 101” series. This series aims to provide basic information and worship ideas for both major and minor deities. This masterlist also involves heroes, deified mortals, spirits, and other figures of Greek mythology. This list is now newly organized into letter categories.
A’s & B’s
C’s & D’s
E’s & F’s
G’s & H’s
I’s & L’s
M’s & N’s
O’s & P’s
R’s & S’s
T’s, U’s, & Z’s
What is a “Universal Offering/Devotional Act?”
Feel free to request or suggest deities! This list will be done in order but you can ask for me to complete one that’s further down the list. Requests take priority!
This list is subject to change. There are probably repeat deities (deities who go by multiple names, parts of groups like the Horae or Charities who are mostly grouped together, etc.) on this list. Some deities are not on here. Some names are spelt wrong or different.
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yzashaven · 1 year ago
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2023 KINKTOBER︰10﹒11
꒰ —♡ D U M B I F I C A T I O N﹒O V E R S T I M ꒱
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EVENT MASTERLIST !
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FEATURING ! itto, neuvillette, kazuha, cyno x fem!reader
WARNINGS ! dumbification ofc, mentions of overstimulation, mirror sex, prone bone, missionary, taken from behind, praise, degradation, clit stim, nipple stim, dacryphilia for itto if you squint, squirting, french with neuvi!!
NOTE ! NOTHING IS PROOFREAD HELP. i was supposed to include scara for this one but decided last minute to put his in a separate post instead :3 also i hope these count accordingly to the kinks <3 hell week is done for me so i think i can get started on the rest !!
event taglist— @yukiitaooo @scara6 @kana-de @ciarchivez @returningluv @im-the-ruler-here @kateybuggi @asimpforpeople @ju1yyyzzz @saturnsapothecary @supercoolusernameomg @uchihaeirin @anon-eu @gojoswife201 @abeitriz @mechanical-lily @breadybuu @dawning-bliss @poisonedmoonl1ght @nothingfuninthislife @eunchaeluvr @cuntz0ne @zomzomb1e @bitchylillyrose @zxdksimpo @kikosaidbye @bleubirdinthesky @rottmntrulesall @angelofdarkness2 @kvronushi @adeptuscharm @wolfiafan10
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—ARATAKI ITTO
no because he can easily fuck you dumb due to his size + that oni strength and stamina goes a long way. trust. also loud mention of how cocky he becomes?!
"you look so pathetic, so needy~" itto was holding your ass up as he pounded your pussy from behind. if he wasn't holding onto your body, you for sure would've already collapsed by now—well your upper half had already done just that but that's besides the point here. your moans were muffled by the pillow that you held on to, it also catched the tears that rolled down your cheeks due to the amount of plessure being emitted to your body right now. "you take my cock so well. want me to fill you up, don't ya~?" he leans down close to whisper those dirty words in your ear. him being closer just let his cock reach deeper, causing your walls to clench around him tightly, earning a deep groan of approval from the oni. "fuck, didn't know you could get even tighter, hah~" he slows down his thrusts for a while, "feels real good, doesn't it? n-ngh~ that's because i'm the one fucking you. that's right~" he pulls back, making you whine and look back at him as the sudden feeling of emptiness engulfed you. he smirked, pushing your head back down into the pillow before slamming back in, thrusting roughly, eliciting loud moans and cries from you. "feels good? tell me it feels good, come on." he was now fucking you hard, waiting for you to comply with him, "f-feels so good~ itto~! fuck—right there~!!" listening to your sobs, he continues to drive you to cum around him. not soon after, he chuckles darkly at the scene before him; with a loud explicit moan of his name, you had let the feeling of intense ecstasy take over your whole body as you spasmed under him, squirting. the bed beneath was already soaked but this one had just made it even wetter than before. "god, you're just so hot, baby. come here, lemme fuck you some more~"
—NEUVILLETTE
he'd definitely fuck you on a desk with your legs spread wide open just for him, but that's a different story. for now, i'd love to mention how good he'd be at heart fluttering praise + mirror sex <3
"don't you see how perfect you look like this, ma amour?" neuvillette whispered directly into your ear as his hands continued to trail down your body, from the soft flesh of your neck and collarbone that were covered in lovely bite marks, to your hips, and to your thighs that were soaked of your arousal along with the mix of your previous orgasms not too long ago. "eyes on the reflection, pretty girl." you lazily direct your eyes to the large mirror in front of you both, showing a lewd scene; you sat on his lap with your two legs spread wide, his cock impaled you deep, stretching you out so much and so good. neuvillette's hands made their way down to your inner thighs, holding them apart, "see how well you're taking me?" he slightly lifts your thighs before slowly thrusting up into your still drenched cunt, making you whimper at the sensation of being filled yet again. "you haven't said a word in quite some time now, is that pretty little head of yours still functioning properly, hmm?"—it wasn't. he peeked at your expression in the mirror, a fucked out look on your face, drool coming down from the corners of your lips, eyes half lidded, all the while your moans and pleas were echoing throughout the walls of the enclosed room. "c-cumming—cumming...! cock s-so good... neuvi~!" he smirked at the way your body reacted towards his touch, thrusting up one last time, making sure his tip would hit your cervix as you orgasmed for what felt like the hundredth time already. kissing your neck softly as his fingers gently set a comfortable pace on your clit, "tu es si adorable, ma chérie~ tell me... tu as envie de plus~?"
[ "my love" ♡ "you're so adorable, my dear~" ♡ "do you crave for more~?" ]
—KAEDEHARA KAZUHA
MISSIONARY. justttt yes. he loves being able to see all of you; from your face, observing how it reacts to him—the way your lips part to gasp with each thrust that lets his tip hit your cervix, each cry for his name that left your lips drives him absolutely crazy.
"that's it, love... keep taking me like that~" kazuha coos gently, hands gripping at your thighs, spreading them open just for him. he's leaning close to you, allowing you to tangle your fingers in his soft hair. "darling~ you feel so good... can you feel me?" he bucks his hips, reaching deep inside you before beginning to grind against you as one of his hands makes its way to grope at your breasts, delicately fondling with the soft flesh and teasing your nipples in between his fingers. to which he then leaned down to take one in his mouth��licking around the bud and gently nibbling on it, eliciting a lewd moan from you. the mixture of that and his gentle grinding that had his cock hitting your g-spot perfectly made you feel weak. "k-kazu—ah~! gonna cum~!" "cum around me, love~ you're so pretty when you do~" with that, he pulled back before beginning to thrust into you again sweetly, at a pace that was comfortable for you as he helped you ride out yet another orgasm that evening. he paused his movements for a while, taking in the sight of you writhing beneath him, choked back sobs and sweet moans being drawn from your agape lips over and over again. "...you look way too ravishing for me to just watch you, love..." kazuha lets out a satisfied sigh, setting a faster pace than before, causing you to scream out his name in pornographic moans that echoed through the room as the moonlight was shining down at you through the window, making the scene look ever so majestic. "my darling~ looks so mesmerizing while crying out my name. let me hear more of you, i'll give you so... so much more tonight~"
—CYNO
deep prone bone. that's all that i can say other than oh dear archons he'd be another one that's pretty damn good at praise...but also throws light degrading word at you from time to time—he's serious during it i swear, no dad/cyno jokes (at least for this time)
"such a pretty whore you are..." cyno pulls back fully, only to slowly dip back inside, fully sheated within your warmth yet again. "...aren't you?" you moan as a reply, muffled whimpers attempt to escape your lips as he pushed your head further into the pillows beneath, making you look so helpless as he continued to fuck you into the soft mattress—a pool of your arousal beneath you, directly at your clit, coating it in the sticky and wet fluid as your sweet sensitive bud rubbed against the sheets, only adding to the stimulation you were already getting from his thrusts alone. cyno moves your hair to the side, giving him acces to the back of your neck, sucking on the soft skin soon after. "you smell so good, you taste so good... i can't ever get enough of you~" he groans, sharply snapping his hips against yours. he peeks at your face, smirking at the view, "fuck—you're practically drooling on this cock, pretty girl. s'that good?" you nod, slurring a few words of approval. cyno's hands grip your waist to elevate your hips a bit, letting his fingers graze your delicate skin towards your clit. his fingertips pleasuring the swollen, covered in cum little bud at a pace that matched with the thrusts of his hips and sending shivers down your spine that soon travelled to the rest of your body, "let me give you even more pleasure, my pretty slut~ you don't even need to say a word, stay still and take my cock, yeah~?"
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