#household items sharing

[secretgardenfox]

pink cup Pink is a color that makes you feel happy when you see it.

[attheideality]

50 Zero Waste Tips Passed Down By Your Grandparents

[mamacoops-world]

Hey! My community of product testers is looking for people who enjoy FREE products. Would you be interested in trying a FREE Children’s Clothing Product?

If so, complete this short survey:

https://tinyurl.com/ye2tkk88

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

Okay. Am I the asshole if I call out my roommate's self-centered behavior? I live in a communal space, where everybody except C shares freely. C got a good job through connections and is able to spend freely on themselves, spending little on household items, groceries, etc. They say they're broke every month, but I've seen their takeout containers and amazon boxes, so maybe it's a spending problem. Worst of all, when we are low on food, C just disappears for a few hours and comes back instead of cooking with everyone.

I've told C that they're being selfish and they should start considering other people, but it goes in one ear and out the other. I offered to help budget but they don't listen! They barely spend more than $400 of their $2000 a month on groceries for the house; the rest goes to their lavish lifestyle while the rest of us suffer. I just want them to pay their fair share. AITA for asking them to be fair??

Including some more specific INFO from version 1 of this post (which wasn't postable due to being about emotions rather than actions):

What are these acronyms?

[borderinggrey]

Just Giving

‘Mum, you have to stop it.’ I’m being told off by my kids again. And what heinous crime am I being scolded for this week? In that post-Christmas sort-out, I stacked a load of serving dishes and offered to bring them down to my daughter on my next visit. ‘But you haven’t got any,’ I reply, stating the obvious. ‘and with just your dad and me, we don’t need this many.  It’s daft them just…

[silentpinessave]

V.1: Silent Pines, 1998 Special Credit: Silent Pines is heavily inspired by and uses a very similar style to the stunning @windbrook savefile by @folkling, the gorgeous portsim savefile by @florwal, and the amazing builds by @moonwoodmillz. Thank you all for your hard work, I take a lot of inspiration from you all. Silent Pines is a base-game only save file inspired by Life is Strange with 3 major worlds, a whole new set of townies, and a complete mystery to solve.

Version 1 contains;

Willow Creek as Silent Pines

13 Community Lots

3 move-in ready homes for your sims

A total of 9 houses, 6 of which are filled with townies

18 households with jobs, story, and drama

A complete mystery to solve (should you want to)

DOWNLOAD, INFO, AND SCREENSHOTS BELOW

I used S4Studio to rename all the worlds, and I've decorated all the neighbourhoods with T.O.O.L. As I said before, Silent Pines is completely base-game friendly, absolutely no packs or kits are used. There is some custom CC, mainly posters that add to the story. The CC is one package file and adds nothing other than some customisation to the story. It is not required.

For example the missing poster of Cleo Emerson, a girl who disappeared under mysterious circumstances;

SPECIAL THANKS Thank you to my beta testers @theemodernsim, @authorspirit, @acuar-io, @aridridge for all your help! You've been amazing and I really am very grateful. And thank you to everyone who has liked, reblogged, followed, and generally supported Silent Pines. It means the world to me to be able to share my work with people!

🌲 Download (Patreon) 🌲

Gallery ID: Cosmoosims

DISCLAIMER: There have been reports of the 'build mode item missing' message popping up, especially in the downtown area. I've tried to fix this to the best of my ability, and I hope it's alright! Also, if there is anything I should fix or have left out, please let me know. Thank you for your patience <3

ALSO: Due to the Sims 4 being a broken game, I really don't recommend playing Silent Pines with Rental Units, in case the T.O.O.L objects up and disappear lol.

Silent Pines is heavily inspired by Life is Strange, the Windbrook save file, florwalsims' Portsim save file, as well as the hazy nostalgia of the late 90s and early 2000s. I hope to see you all soon for V.2!

The Mystery Update A more comprehensive outline for this update will be coming soon, but essentially it will contain;

Hopefully the fixed Harris household

More mystery clues to make the mystery more engaging and easier to solve

Better and complete lot descriptions

Love from, Silent Pines.

[pheonix-inside]

I'm already thinking about Halloween bc I wanna go full cosplayer this year with the FNAF movie coming out and I need to plan in advance bc it'll require arts and crafts 😭

Plus I have parties to go to, drama club and maybe (hopefully) choir, and I'm the kind of person who doesn't wanna repeat a costume if I can help it, so that brings up the issue of one whole other costume (maybe two!!!). My main idea is Barbie. And if it turns out to be two parties one of those shitty kids Freddy Fazbear costumes for the memes.

Last year I wore a shitty kids Minecraft Creeper costume with fishnets and high heels and it was fucking hilarious. I love doing that shit.

It's August and I'm thinking about Halloween lmao

[tudtuds]

Hi! How are you?

I'm happy to share another set with you. This time not the ones from my "warehouse" but completely new items developed this year, from the beginning to the end.

And I'm not exaggerating, this is probably the easiest-to-use set I've ever created.

For this set, I took inspiration from some furniture that you can find in stores that sell cheap furniture with designs like Ikea. The idea is to give the starter households a nice BEGIN so price and stats were very important to avoid the feel that we are hacking the game.

There are 22 new items in this set.

You'll need vintage glamour to use the vanities.

All items use my last set of color schemes to mix and match with a lot of Maxis items.

SEARCH TERMS "Tuds BGIN", "BGIN"

DOWNLOAD patreon.com/TudTuds (Early Access until March 26th)

FOLLOW ME instagram.com/tud.tuds

twitter.com/TudTuds Thank you so much, Tuds :D

[theneighborhoodsave]

V1: Willow Creek + Magnolia Promenade 🏠

The Neighborhood is a CC-free save file that explores the concept of home. V1 celebrates the vibrant communities of the U.S. Gulf Coast. ❤️

This is what comes in V1:

13 community lots

22 total residences (includes 3 multi-family rental lots, 9 single family homes)

New High School & Auditorium in Copperdale (+8 school staff townies)

Secret lot (Sylvan Glade) reimagined

17 unique households with skills, jobs, relationships, and stories that tie into the town

New clubs and holidays

Download, screenshots & more info below ↪

The wonderful Ly family in Willow Creek was lovingly created for the save by @cowplant-snacks. All other neighbors were made by me, you can meet all of them here! Pets are from Pugowned, misc. townies from @cowplant-snacks and @simsontherope on the gallery.

There's lots of little details and things to explore, both around the world and relationship wise, so I'm excited to see what y'all uncover. Please feel free to @theneighborhoodsave in your posts or tag #theneighborhoodsave. I'd love to see what your sims are up to!

I also want to say thank you to anyone who's appreciated this creative journey with me. This save feels like home to me and y'all have supported me every step of the way!

Download the The Neighborhood save on SFS

Alt: Google Drive

The save is 100% CC free! Please note that I do have all expansions, packs, and kits (except for Castle Estate, Goth Galore + Crystal Creations.) For any items you don't own the game will try to auto find replacements for those items. The file is mostly blank this time around but does include the original EA builds in university and vacation type worlds (sans Granite Falls.)

Included is a folder of completely optional skin details/eyelashes for the neighbor sims. Thank you to @faaeish, @pyxiidis, @tamo-sim, and @landgraabbed! There are 4 pieces of CC I cannot include in the folder due to creator TOU. Please check the included "Read Me" file for more information.

All builds and families are up on the gallery (@sweetbeagaming) + tray files have been shared here.

If you've never used a save file and need help installing it, I highly recommend this tutorial by @leeleebsimming.

⚠️ A couple of disclaimers here due to some existing EA bugs. EDIT 4/25: Included in that link are directions on how to avoid TOOL'd items from disappearing. If you want to keep powerlines and such please check this out! ⚠️

Everything was tested to work around these, but I wanted to put them out there as an FYI.

TOU: Please don't reupload my save/builds/sims, claim as your own, and absolutely do not paywall them. Other than that feel free to build your own Neighborhood stories however you'd like!

[chubby-bun-bun]

untitled (part 3)

You reunite with your crow friend! But it seems to need your help with… a man?

nav: one, two, three (current), four, five, six or: read on ao3

tags: sylus x reader, an au where you're an average citizen, slow burn, hurt/comfort, angst, mentions of blood and death, descriptions of a panic attack, bossman is here yay

“Congratulations! You’ve just won the loyal customer raffle at Linkon Supermarket!”

“But I shop at Bloomshore Mart.”

“Yup, congratulations!”

You furrow your brows, eyeing the paper the delivery driver is enthusiastically waving in your face. Sure enough, it announces the conclusion of the famous supermarket’s year-end raffle, and there it is: your full government name printed neatly under “winner.”

Beyond his shoulder, you notice the other worker unloading boxes from the delivery truck. He’s dressed in the same uniform, with identical dark curls and also sporting a black face mask. He catches your gaze and gives a lazy thumbs-up.

There must be something wrong with your memory, because you could swear you haven’t stepped foot in Linkon Supermarket in years—let alone registered for their raffle. That place isn’t exactly known for catering to the humbler economic classes.

And it’s still 5:30 a.m. Have supermarkets always done graveyard shift deliveries?

“Thanks…” You squint at the driver’s name tag. “…Lukas.”

“No problem!”

Once the two workers finish unloading and stacking boxes of who-knows-what in your living room, they wave cheerfully before speeding off down the street. Half-asleep, you manage only a bemused wave in return.

You think you might’ve been cursed. Or blessed. It’s hard to say. Because ever since your crow friend escaped a week ago, it feels like you’ve already blown through a lifetime’s worth of luck.

In the span of days, you’ve gotten a raise and better employee benefits (odd, considering you’re still just an assistant manager), won lifetime vouchers for three of your favorite food spots, and now, apparently, won a supermarket raffle—complete with at least three months’ worth of groceries.

Rummaging through the boxes, you find they’re stocked with all your usual brands. Snacks, non-perishables, beauty products, household items—everything. Even fresh produce.

For the first time in a while, you won’t have to worry about going hungry.

—

You’re not sure why you’ve come back to the park tonight.

It’s late, and you’ve already visited the crows earlier, spoiling them with extra bags of peanuts thanks to your recent streak of good fortune.

The crows seem to wonder the same thing. While they peck enthusiastically at the peanuts, their beady eyes occasionally flick toward you, as if to silently judge your lack of anything resembling a social life.

Admittedly, you’ve been hoping to see your crow friend again.

You think you’re starting to come to terms with its disappearance. Life goes on, right? It’s just an animal, after all. It probably doesn’t feel the same complex emotions humans do—the kind that have you so affected by its absence after only a few days of sharing a space. (Maybe it was a one-sided friendship all along...) It probably just followed its instincts, leaving to do whatever it is that lone crows do.

Still, a petulant part of you feels bitter. Sure, it left behind a hoard of treasures—trinkets, gems, and gold so polished they must be real (though you’re not ready to think about where it might have stolen them)—but it could’ve at least waited for you to come home before flying off.

In hindsight, maybe it’s a good thing you never had pets. Your apparent abandonment issues would be a nightmare to deal with if they got lost, ran away, or died.

Suddenly, a familiar series of shrill caws pierces the air. Before you can process what’s happening, something crashes into your lap, a blur of loose black feathers hitting your face.

Could it be…?

The unmistakable garnet glint in the midnight-feathered avian’s eyes confirms it. Without hesitation, you scoop the bird into your arms, pulling it tightly to your chest, and press a rough, enthusiastic kiss to its head.

“Where have you been?” you exclaim, laughing as you nuzzle the void-like creature against your cheek, smothering it in an embrace. “I’ve been so worried about you!”

Its muffled caws are drowned out by your babbling. “Oh gosh—your wing! How is it?” you say, quickly pulling back to inspect it.

Its feathers look good—healthy, even. In fact, they almost seem brand new, gleaming like a freshly unboxed gadget. Its once-injured left wing no longer looks broken—or as you’d thought before, no longer resembling a mechanical part with a loose screw.

Before you can start fussing over it again, the bird suddenly wriggles free from your grasp and lands steadily on your lap. It caws again, but something’s different. It’s louder, more piercing—frantic. It paces across your lap, continuing to practically scream at you, as if trying to tell you something.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” you ask, your heart squeezing at the sight of its feathers puffing up with each stressed caw.

You try to pat its head, hoping to calm it down, but it jumps off your lap and lands on the ground, still cawing. The other crows, clearly spooked by its urgent cries, start to scatter. Bewildered, you bend down, attempting to scoop it into your arms again, but it evades you by hopping a few feet away, still cawing—loudly.

“What is it?” you say, exasperated. I can’t speak crow!

You step closer, bending down once more, but it hops away—again.

You stare up at the heavens. This has to be some cosmic joke. You can’t believe you’re playing this strange version of tag with a bird.

You don’t even realize how far you’ve walked, now a good distance from the bench you were sitting on. You’ve reached the darker area of the park, still desperate to grab the cawing bird and figure out what’s wrong. Then, without warning, your foot catches on a tree root. You stumble, and before you can recover, you hit the cold, wet ground with an unceremonious thud.

“Well, there goes my good luck streak,” you mutter, trying to push yourself up. Good thing nobody’s around to witness your embarrassing lack of coordination.

“Tell me about it.”

The sudden presence of a deep, unfamiliar voice makes you freeze. Heart pounding wildly, you scramble to sit up, eyes darting toward the source.

It wasn’t a tree root you tripped over. It was a leg—a stretched-out leg attached to a man slumped against one of the park’s statues. A huge, beautiful man, with silver hair and a pair of breathtaking garnet eyes, half-lidded and filled with amusement. He’s clutching his abdomen, the fabric there soaked in dark, ominous red.

Blood.

A field of red datura blooms. A starry night sky with the clouds beneath you. Mountains of gold against jagged walls. A burning plaza. A bloodied claymore.

You don’t register the ringing in your ears or the flash of blurry, unfamiliar images racing through your mind. Your gaze remains locked on the man’s injury. Before you know it, you’re shrugging off your puffer jacket and sweater. Now clad in just your turtleneck, you drop to your knees and press your sweater firmly against his wound.

You, waiting for your turn to walk on stage to receive your diploma. A university staff member rushing toward you. You, running out of the graduation venue. Two totaled SUVs. Three dead bodies.

Your pulse pounds in your ears as you work methodically. Stop the bleeding. Stop the blood. Apply pressure. That’s what you’re supposed to do, right? Just keep pressing. Don’t think about how much there is. Don’t panic. You fold the sweater tighter against the wound. Okay, stop the bleeding first. That’s all you know. Just keep the pressure steady. He’s losing too much. Is this enough? Should I tie it off? No, just keep pressing. Keep him alive.

The edges of your vision begin to blur. You have to save them. You have to save him. They can’t leave you. He can’t leave you. Not again.

“Sweetheart.”

The word, softly spoken, snaps you out of your trance. Your eyes lift to meet his, and the world seems to still. You’ve never met this man in your life, but the way he looks at you—it hurts. It feels like an ancient grief has surfaced from the depths of your soul.

You finally notice the state you’re in. You’re shaking. Badly. The cold winter air bites into your skin, sharp and unforgiving. Your palms are scraped from your earlier fall, but you hardly register the sting. The man’s hands—large and warm—enclose your trembling ones, grounding you.

And it’s like you’ve never known peace until this very moment.

note: can u tell the extent of my yearning to be spoiled with groceries LMAO

nav: one, two, three (current), four, five, six or: read on ao3

check out my other works!

[whitecompri]

Going to Market With Your Hedgie

(Sonic, Shadow, Silver, Scourge)

Pairing: Sonic x Reader; Shadow x Reader; Silver x Reader; Scourge x Reader

Genre: Fluff, comedy

Rating: T (Teen)

Warnings: Mild Suggestive Themes

Sonic

He had been bothering you for about three days to take him along to the market. When you asked why he was suddenly so interested, Sonic simply said he wanted to keep you company and, if possible, buy a soda for himself. In the end, you couldn’t resist the lost puppy look he was giving you and ended up taking him to the market.

At the moment, you had your back turned to your shopping cart, evaluating the price of some essential household items. That’s when you felt the familiar breeze that hit you whenever the speedy hedgehog ran. You only managed to hear his quick steps and the sound of him breaking the speed of sound inside the market. You decided to ignore it at first—he was probably just grabbing the soda he had asked for.

However, you narrowed your eyes when you felt the breeze and heard the noise at least three more times. Turning around suddenly, still holding the items you were choosing, you saw him—completely at ease, leaning against the shopping cart, a sly little smirk on his face.

When your eyes focused on the cart, you could only sigh. He had filled it with packs of sausages, hot dog buns, and a ridiculous amount of ingredients to make chili. On top of everything sat the can of soda he had promised to grab.

"Sonic... are you trying to make me go broke?" You stepped closer to the cart, looking at the prices. "Look at this—no. You’re putting half of this back."

"Aw, come on, [Y/N], don’t you want to make your favorite hedgehog happy? I promise I’ll share the chili dogs with you."

You could only sigh and scratch the back of your neck. In the end, at least he had already decided what dinner would be that night... and for the next few days too.

Shadow

Shadow preferred not to express when he needed to go to the market for his monthly groceries. Usually, he only accompanied you when you went, but if he ever ran out of supplies in the middle of the month, he refused to say anything or admit that he needed to go shopping.

Noticing this, you started paying attention to when his coffee beans, chocolate, or skincare products were running low. That way, whenever you saw something was about to run out, you’d call him to go with you to the market—even if it was just to restock what was missing at home.

Today was no different. You walked through the aisles with your shopping basket in hand, looking for the coffee section. Shadow kept pace beside you.

Then, at one moment, you noticed he suddenly stopped. He stood there for a few seconds, impassive, then shook his head slightly before quickly returning to your side.

"Did you see something you want?"

"No."

"You can tell me, Shads, I’ll get it for you."

"Nonsense. We came here just for the coffee beans."

"Yeah, but I don’t mind getting something extra for you. Come on, tell me—what did you see?"

He hesitated for a moment, crossing his arms, then tilted his head toward the store’s freezer. Following his gaze, you spotted the frozen food section and saw some Hot Pockets on sale. A small smile appeared on your lips.

"Shadow, whenever you want something, you can just say it, okay?" Giving him a reassuring smile, you walked over to the freezer, grabbed several of the frozen snacks, and placed them in your basket.

"Now, let’s go get your coffee." You resumed walking through the aisle toward the section where you could find what you needed.

"Thank you, [Y/N]." Shadow murmured, making you smile like an idiot and blush slightly at the rare display of gratitude from the hedgehog.

"Anytime."

Silver

Silver excitedly scanned the market shelves alongside you, helping you find the best prices. It was common for the white hedgehog to accompany you on your monthly shopping trips—he was always helpful and loved coming along to carry the bags or grab something from a high shelf using his powers.

For Silver, nothing was better than spending quality time with you, which was why he always went and returned with a huge smile on his face. Today, he was being especially attentive to everything you needed—reminding you of items running low at home that weren’t on the shopping list and picking the most budget-friendly brands.

Feeling grateful, you decided to do something special for him.

"Silver, I’m done getting what I needed. I just need to check this one last product—why don’t you pick something for yourself?"

You felt warm inside when you saw the sparkle in his eyes.

"Really? Anything?" He looked at you hopefully.

"Yes, feel free to choose whatever you want."

His smile grew even wider. Thanking you, he immediately used his powers to levitate and disappeared into the market.

You finished selecting your item, placing it in the cart, and started looking for Silver. But before you even reached the end of the aisle, you saw him floating back, carrying several products with his psychokinesis.

He gently placed them into the cart before landing back on the ground with a bright smile. You blinked in surprise, glancing at the items he had picked.

You had expected him to grab sweets, snacks, or the usual junk food people typically go for.

But now, looking at his choices, you couldn’t hold back the soft giggle that escaped you. Your cart was now filled with neatly packed vegetables, fresh fruits, and leafy greens.

"Is something wrong? Did I pick too much?" He watched you, slightly worried about your reaction.

"No, not at all. I just thought it was adorable."

"Huh?"

"Yeah, you chose healthy food. I wasn’t expecting that—I thought you’d grab something completely different."

Silver chuckled quietly at your comment.

"Well, these are all essentials, right?"

"Definitely. Honestly, I never really bought much of this stuff myself." You admitted your lack of a healthy diet.

"Then how about we eat them together? What do you say, [Y/N]?"

His words made you feel warm all over again.

"I’d love that. Thank you, Silver."

He let out a soft laugh, walking by your side as you headed to the checkout to pay for the groceries.

Scourge

Honestly, you didn’t want to take Scourge to the market. It was always a battle to keep him from filling the cart with the junk food he loved. But when Scourge wanted something, he was absolutely insufferable.

He acted deeply offended that you didn’t want to bring him along. Said he wouldn’t let you run your hands through his quills anymore. Even threatened to smoke inside the house if you didn’t take him.

In the end, with a deep sigh and a hand to your temple, you gave in, telling him to get in the car. He slid into the passenger seat with that smug grin of his, sunglasses perched on his face.

At the market, you left him in charge of the shopping cart while you went to grab some cleaning supplies for the house. When you returned to where you had left him, he was nowhere to be seen.

You sighed, placing the cleaning products in the cart, but as you did, you started noticing items that definitely weren’t there before. Energy drink cans. Instant noodles. And… a toy car? You had no idea what he planned to do with that.

As you dug through the cart, you found even more questionable purchases. Your brow furrowed when you spotted an expensive bottle of whiskey hidden at the bottom. And then—your face heated up as you found a few condom boxes stuffed underneath everything else.

Shaking your head, you turned to the side and spotted him standing there, a massive bag of potato chips in hand.

“Ey, Babe. You got everythin’ ya need? C’mon, let’s skedaddle.”

You grabbed the bottle of whiskey and held it up, giving him a pointed look.

“Huh? What’s the big deal? Just a lil’ somethin’ nice for yours truly.” He flashed you a grin.

“I thought we agreed to only get the essentials for the house.” You kept your voice firm.

“Eh, deals ain’t set in stone, sweetheart.” Scourge was impossible sometimes.

You opened your mouth to argue, but the words died in your throat the moment you felt his hand gently take yours—surprisingly soft and warm.

“Aw, don’t gimme that look, [Y/N]. I got some cash on me.” His voice had an almost sincere tone, and for a second, you nearly apologized for being upset.

But then—

“…And later, ya can show me just how grateful ya are.” His tone turned unmistakably suggestive.

“Scourge!”

He only chuckled, clearly entertained. You had no idea what to do with him anymore.

[garden0fyves]

joel miller hcs ♡ post-outbreak

sfw

boyfriend!joel who isn’t “entirely sure how to do this relationship thang anymore.” joel had been with someone before, you knew this, but you didn’t mind. joel had told you of tess, how he was with her for a while but it wasn’t how he felt with you. he was stubborn to come about his feelings, yes, but it wasn’t anything you couldn’t work with. you were patient. that’s what ellie thinks makes you two work so well. he’s stubborn, and as he is stubborn you’re just as patient. you work with him. allow him to come to you in your own time.

boyfriend!joel who is losing his mind the first time you get hurt out on patrol. “you weren’t supposed to be there.” he’d murmured into your hair, sighing heavily when you’d only laughed in response. joel knows you can handle yourself and it’s a thing that he admires about you, but it doesn’t stop him from worrying about you and your health. joel sat by your bedside in jackson’s infirmary until you were just about cleared. he spent his time gripping your hand in his whenever he wasn’t sleeping or going to check on ellie.

boyfriend!joel who can’t help but love the way you treat his ellie. he hears the two of you stay up and talk into all hours of the morning. about what? he doesn’t really know besides the fact that you refuse to share what the conversations are about. “why don’t you ask our girl yourself?” you’d told him, smiling so sweetly he couldn’t bring himself to scowl at you for being a brat. you spend most of your time with ellie if not with him or maria. you take her to the library with you, as well as the gardening section you sometimes assist with. if ellie’s on patrol, you’re on patrol, and it warms his heart in a way he can’t quite pinpoint.

boyfriend!joel who loves you because you are his polar opposite and his mediator between him and his daughter. ellie is too rash while joel is too calculated, leaving you to be just right. you’re often the one to make final decisions in the household over the dumbest of things. your favorite memory is the first time ellie officially began to hang out with dina and jesse. joel was worried out of his mind that jesse would try something with ellie, and how desperately you wanted to tell him there was nothing to worry about.

boyfriend!joell who doesn’t know how to completely express his love for you and ultimately fumbles a bit in the early stages of your relationship. you were supposed to go on your second date with joel at his house, he’d said he was going to make dinner and ellie would remain in her little room in the back. you’d spent all day thinking of it, even losing track of books and stressing yourself out over where’d you last put them. maria found it adorable, if anything. she’d told you to go ahead and leave early if you were that excited. you had a few nice items of clothing from the many runs you and some of the others had done, and this little red number was just perfect. you’d practically skipped to joel’s house only for him to not answer when you knocked. you remember ellie coming through and opening the door, eyes widening before cursing joel out loud and turning to pull you into the house. “um, he hasn’t come back from the job he was workin’ yet so maybe we should wait?” you’re positive ellie could feel the embarrassment flowing off of you in waves but you agreed with the younger girl anyway.

boyfriend!joel who’d came in an hour later, flustered and visibly stressed. he found you and ellie curled on his couch watching freaky friday, and his chest had tightened because you looked so beautiful. “(name)- goddammit.” he murmured, running a hand down his face. “ellie,” he paused to look at her, using his chin to gesture for her to leave. “go. please.” he added the please quietly, stress clear on his face. it was probably the only reason she left without a word. “listen, (name), i’m sorr-” but you’d already stood with a soft smile. “no, it’s fine. i’ll go and we can try again another time, okay?” he’d believe you if you hadn’t swallowed thickly, pushing some hair from your face. joel could feel the guilt creeping up his chest and god did it make him sick. “no, darlin’ jus’ give me a minute and i can make us somethin’ to eat. i’m sorry. i like you, sugar i just…it’s been a day ‘m sorry.” you smile genuinely at that and find your feet moving their way towards him. “you like me, miller?” your eyes are gentle when he looks down at you, and joel realizes you make him feel safe. “we can make another day out for this, ‘m not going anywhere ‘cause of one mishap. i was embarrassed, yes, but you were caught up with patrol and such there’s nothing to do about that. we’re fine, joel. i promise.” you press a gentle kiss to his cheek, to the other, then to his lips. “we can try again, hm?”

nsfw

boyfriend!joel who fucks you rough and nasty. his hips are always so rough against yours as his beard tickles the side of you neck while he kisses down it. his fingers dig into your hips and the most you can do is whimper out his name. your eyes roll to the back of your head and youre grappling at his back desperately for any type of leverage. anything to keep your body grounded from the euphoria taking it over. “thas’ it sweet thing. you’re taking me so well, hm?” you can only nod as a sob rips from your throat, legs tightening around your boyfriend’s hips to pull him deeper within you. joel grips your jaw with his free hand, forcing you to look him in his eyes as he fucks you deeper. he pushes you further into the bed, hips slamming against yours at a stuttering pace. “joel- can’t- can’t- feels weird.” you sob out, closing your eyes only for them to flutter open when you cum. you cum hard, fluids spraying against his lower abdomen and some getting on the sheets. joel’s eyes change a certain way when he witnesses you squirt for the first time, and the twitch of his cock tells you he’s far from done.

boyfriend!joel who has a thing for face fucking. joel loves to get you on your knees or have you lay over the side of the bed. he’ll purr sweetly at you, “you gonna take it, pretty girl?” and you eat it up everytime. you’re looking up at him with big eyes, pressing kisses to his thighs and mumbling about how good you can be. he likes to take things slow before he uses his throat by tracing his thumb along your lip before tapping his cock against your lips. “go ahead sweet thing. take what you want.” and you’re already spitting on his cock, stroking him a few times before taking him in your mouth. you move up and down his cock, getting used to the size despite how many times you’ve taken him down your throat. joel knows when you’ve gotten settled because you take him all the way down your throat and hold it, blinking up at him like the most innocent thing in the world. joel prefers to grab your hair, pulling back before fucking into your throat slow and deep. he holds you there despite your sputtering and choking, only pulling out when he feels it’s enough. when joel begins to fuck your throat you can never help but guide your hands down to your cunt. you’re moaning around his dick while tears fall from your eyes, pitiful and shaking hands desperately rubbing at your clit. your hips jut into your hands to no avail, because only joel can make you cum the way you want to. his grip always tightens unbearably when he’s about to cum, and his hips stop deep in your pretty little throat to cum down it. “thas’ my sweet girl. takin’ this dick like it was made for ya.”

boyfriend!joel who loves nothing more than to eat you out. he loves the feeling of your warmth against his mouth, the way your pussy is so responsive to his actions. he loves to run his tongue through your folds before suckling on your clit. he rubs your clit slow and steady, watching your reactions to his ministrations. you cover your eyes with your forearm in an attempt to hide the tears already trying to form in your pretty eyes. joel chuckles at your actions before pulling back and pressing a soft kiss to your clit. “remember you gotta be quiet, pretty.” you nod quickly, whimpering softly because you need him to move. when joel starts he never really knows how to stop. he goes in, fingers stretching you deliciously while his lips work on your clit. he latches on and sucks, pulling the most wanton of moans from your lips. your hips jut against his face with a soft sob and you’re desperately trying to hang on to your already building orgasm. joel doesn’t care though. he only hooks his fingers in your cunt and thrusts, pulling back to spit on your pussy as if you weren’t wet enough. he flattens his tongue against your pussy, peeking up at you with what could only be a smug look in his eyes. “you gonna cum on my face, sweets?” you nod, shaking your head harder when you began to thrust up against his tongue. “gonna-” joel shakes his head. “don’t say it, do it.” and you’re creaming on his face as a cry rips through your throat.

boyfriend!joel who likes to fuck you in one of the check-in stations while the two of you are out on patrol. he rubs his hands down your sides, pinning you against the table of he little shack. you’re looking up at him with a cheeky smile that makes him raise a brow at your attitude. “what? you gonna fuck me in a lil shack ‘cause you can’t hold it? ‘nd you say i’m the slut.” joel doesn’t take attitude and you’re fully aware. trust. so you’re not surprised when his previous loving strokes down your side go rigid. he scoffs airily, “turn around.” you bite down on your lip but comply anyway, undoing your belt to allow him to pull your pants down easier. joel laughs from behind you, murmuring something along the lines of “fuckin’ slut.” and he tugs your pants and panties down in one tug. he runs his middle finger through your folds, tuting softly when he feels the slick build on his finger. “fuckin’ slut was already thinkin’ about getting fucked over this table, huh?” you moan softly, nodding to answer his question. you wiggle your ass out to him, looking over your shoulder with a pout. “please, joel? need it s’bad.” he laughs again this time, though it’s deeper and full of some sort of intent. he doesn’t say anything following his laugh, prompting you to turn around to ask again. “shut it.” joel snaps, thrusting into you in one quick, delicious thrust. your question dies on your lips as you lean forward and moan loud and deep, your pussy clenching tightly around your boyfriend. your eyes water from the sudden intrusion and your toes attempt to curl in your shoes. “mhm, bet you shut the fuck up now.” he hisses in your ear, gripping the back of your head to pull you back up with him. joel’s thrusts are hard and unforgiving, a pace he sets only for when you’ve been a brat or simply asked for it. you sob out his name, begging for him to slow down and that your pussy can’t take it. “can’t take it? didn’t you jus’ try to beg for it? you beg for it then you fuckin’ take it. take what you get sweet girl. ain’t that right?” words are lost to your little brain and you can only muster up a nod to his questions and statements. the hand that isn’t holding you up rests on your clit, giving it a sharp slap before he’s rubbing it like you aren’t already twitching against him. “oh my- fuck!” joel’s thrust only further the deep knot forming in your tummy, making you squirm and twitch in his grip. he chuckles when he feels you clench, too fucking tight, and you’re screaming and sobbing as you cum on his dick. “atta fuckin’ girl.” he lets you go, bending you over to ride out his own orgasm. your fingernails dig into the wooden desk, leaving scratch marks you would have a hard time explaining to the next couple to come out here for inspection. “shit, this pussy gotta be made for me. my pretty slut with a pretty pussy, hm?” you nod against the desk, praying a splinter doesnt find it’s way into your face. “good.” you’re crying out, cumming again as joel’s balls slap against your pussy one final time. he cums deep inside of you, holding your hips down to ensure his seed stays deep inside of your pretty cunt. he pulls out, watching the way his cum oozes out of your pussy. “a sight i ain’ ever getting tired of.” he hums, shoving his fingers back into you.

[leadyoutothelight]

Ubi tu Gaius, ego Gaia

This wasn’t supposed to be your place in life, you were the second daughter, a spare given to the temple of Minerva to serve as one of the many temple maidens. But when your father comes to you, telling you of your sister’s sudden passing, suddenly you’re thrust into a new role. Expected to fill her place in a political marriage to the famed General Marcus Acacius Rome’s beloved war dog.

Rating: Explicit +18 MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Warnings: Dubious Consent/Coerced Consent, Age Gap (no specified ages), Virginity Loss *discomfort mentioned, no blood* , Implied physical abuse from a parent, Patriarchal world and expectations of women, Grinding, Unprotected p in v sex, reader is a virgin, first time sex *please let me know if I miss anything*

Word Count: 8k

Author Note: Hello, first time writing for a Pedro Pascal character, but finally saw Gladiator II and I couldn't resist writing this! Please note, there is very little research into Rome actually done, I'm not writing this based on historical accuracy, just had an idea and wanted to write it. The title is based off a common Roman wedding vow meaning, Where you are Gaius, I am Gaia.

Please let me know what you think!

-

Your sister is dead, you shall be the one to marry General Acacius. 

It had been the most your father had ever spoken to you in your entire life, the most he’d even looked at you. 

Being born the second daughter of a noble family is about as important as a new pair of sandals. Especially when you were the last born of five, and three of the five being boys. Your father was more than happy to direct his attention to his sons and his wars. Your sister and yourself were content to live in the house learning from your mother, waiting for the day your father drafted a marriage contract and sent you to a new household. 

Until it was decided that in a bid to gain the gods favor you were given to the temple of Minerva as a temple maiden, at ten you were bundled up with your few worldly items and left to the Priestess' devices. 

It was a sudden and chaotic change. But after the first year you found, you didn’t mind this new living arrangement. Yes, you had chores now, and you needed to share things. But you grew to like your new home with other women and girls working in the temple. Learning the day-to-day needs, and expectations of your new home. You flourished, and your mother and sister visiting every now and again helped you settle as well. 

The last time you’d seen your sister she’d been an excited mess talking the whole time of her engagement to General Acacius, that they’d be wed as soon as he’d returned home from another conquest.

“Just think sissy, me, a famed general’s wife!”  

Her eyes glowed in the lamplight as she’d clutched your hands in hers. You’d given her a smile and a nod, as she went on and on. Whilst you’d thought to yourself that you’d be stuck cleaning the temple floors for the next week due to staying out longer than allowed.

“You’ll be there right?” 

Her question pulls you out of your glum thoughts, and you give her a wide eye-scrunching smile. You don’t have the heart to disappoint, maybe with your father’s status you can ask for the time…

A pain twinges through you at the thought, the high priestess had been kind, giving you the time in exchange for you doing more chores when you returned. 

But today, a day you expected your sister to visit, with her finished bridal veil in tow. You expected to ‘oh’ and ‘aw’ over her hard work, compliment her delicate needlework, ask her jokingly which parts your mother had helped with. To comfort her, she’d mentioned fainting spells had started since the date had been announced. 

Maybe you’d even offer to bring her into the inner sanctum to ask the goddess to protect her, and her future husband. To give her calm in the coming ‘battle’ of marriage. 

But now you sit across from your father. A beast of a man, skin tanned and leathered from the sun. Scars criss-cross along his arms, you resist the urge to glance at his left pinky. Where only a ghastly stump sits. 

His voice brokers no argument, yet, you can’t stop yourself.

“What do you mean?” 

He blinks, those dark eyes boring into you, and you see a flash of anger, mixed with surprise. Again, your existence has been a fleeting one in your father’s opinion. He was the one who sent you here…he was the one who gave you to the gods. He can’t just–take you back. 

“I wasn’t aware you were an imbecile–” 

“I’m not, but you cannot take me from the temple–from Minerva herself–” 

“I have made the appropriate tithes and the priestess herself has granted your hand–”

“I am to serve the goddess, that is what you–”

“And now you shall serve the family!” It’s the way he stands, the clatter of the chair he once occupied. The roar of his voice, the one you know he uses to order his troops into battle with. You cower, well aware that this rage is one you don’t survive. 

Tears brim over your lashes, and you bite your cheek to stop yourself from arguing further, here in the temple, you are free to share your opinions. Voice concerns, even vent frustrations, rare luxuries in this male dominated society. You’ve found you enjoy the thrill of conversing, and theology the other maidens and priestesses provide. 

But now, that’s all being taken, when you’re so close to the priesthood. To take the sacred robes of Minerva, learn the sacred rights. Bless soldiers, generals, and emperors in their great conquests for the Roman Empire. 

That was your purpose, your place in this world. Being born a woman was a curse in this empire, but here you were safe, here you could make a life. 

“You shall be collected in the morning, the wedding will take place in a week's time.” 

That tone again. One brokering no peace, no argument. The voice he commands thousands with, and you are one of them. 

The next morning passes in a blur, your few things taken by slaves. You’re barely given enough time to hug the girls, and women you’ve come to see as your new family. Careful to hide your tears as the High Priestess stops you outside the temple doors. 

“Go with Minerva’s blessing,” her voice is soft, though there is an edge to it. You don’t respond, for fear that you’ll fall to your knees and beg her to stop this. Claim Minerva’s hold over you, refuse your father’s demands. 

But she won’t, your father is a powerful man, marrying you to another powerful man, and not even the goddess of war can prevent it. 

You’re whisked away on a chariot handled by one of your father’s trusted soldiers. A clear warning to behave, the city passes by. A few of the bustling crowds pause to watch you entourage, but it’s fleeting, they return to their day-to-day lives as it's nothing new to see a noble pass in their gilded transports. 

A blink and you’re home. The home you hadn’t seen in years, still a marbled behemoth, a villa of luxury befitting one of Rome’s finest generals. The sandstone pillars glow in the mid-afternoon sun. Banners the color of blood mark the door, along with coal black braziers that will be lit when the sun disappears behind the mountains. 

Awaiting you is a group of slaves, heads bowed, they drop to kneel as you are escorted from the chariot and into the house. 

It’s barely changed, since you last ran about the halls, as a wild precocious child. Tripping over your feet to follow your older brothers. The large atrium, with a lapis lazuli lined pool. Filled with various plants your father brought home to your mother. More braziers and torches line the halls. 

Gold, and weapons decorate the walls, all of them spoils of war taken by your father. Silk curtains billow in the afternoon wind, and distantly you smell the incense your mother uses throughout the villa. 

Your sister used to smell of it, well, the incense and rose water. A pang ricochets through your chest.  Her voice doesn’t greet you, and you’ll never hear it again. Instead it’s the rush of silks, and the patter of feet, and your mother enters the atrium, in the warm glow of the sun she shines. 

Dark hair in tight ringlets cascading down her back, her eyes shine with unshed tears. She stops seeing you in the entrance, then her arms spread wide, and like a child you rush into them. 

She smells of her personal fragrance of jasmine, and cinnamon. The mixture your father had gifted her after a long campaign many years ago. She buries her nose into your hair, fingers threading through the tresses. She presses a quick kiss to the crown of your head. 

“Mama,” you whimper into her bosom, and she shushes you. Pulling back, her hands cup your face, thumbs brushing against the apples of your cheeks. 

“Well, not the way I expected my beloved child to return to me but,” another kiss is pressed to your forehead. Her lips are soft and warm, tears well and threaten to spill a lump gathers in the back of your throat. “I am grateful to have some time with you again.” 

 For a moment, you’re grateful for the reprieve as well. But it’s short lived. She ushers you into the house, into her personal chambers. Where she sits you on the lounge, it’s darker here. Not as many windows, and most of them blocked by curtains. 

The incense is thicker here, and you stifle a cough as you settle into the dimness with her. 

“Oh my dear one, how I’ve missed you.” She smiles, and again her eyes take you in. Just as you do her, she’s aged in the years you’ve been gone. Where once was smooth skin, you see wrinkles in the corners of her eyes. The creases of her lips, a few grey hairs decorate her dark curls. 

“I’m sorry it wasn’t under…better circumstances.” You mutter, fingers toying with the robes you had left in. They’re still the temple robes, a simple woven woolen tunic. Good for completing chores, and easy to move in. 

Not like her opulent robes, her pure white muslin, with a deep blue dyed sash. A golden belt cinching in her waist. Her smile falters, a look of pain crosses her expression. 

“Y–your sister fought hard against the sweating sickness,” her voice wavers, and tears spill over her lashes, smudging the kohl lining her eyes. “But, she has been given her last rights, and she rests now in Elysium.” 

You nod, your chin quivers, as your own tears rain down from your eyes. Your mother tuts, and leans forward her hands warm and soft, unlike your now calloused fingers and palms.

“She would not want us to mourn–” 

“But Mama, she wanted this,” you gesture to the room of grandeur around you. Feeling your mother’s gaze watching you as you struggle with your next words, “I was promised to Minerva–to the gods!” 

You stand beginning to pace as you consider everything, and are finally able to do so.

“She should be here, I should be at the temple, learning the rites, blessing soldiers–”

“My darling you’re here now,” your mother’s voice is firm, a tone you recognize as her warning, and just like your father you know she’s not going to entertain you abandoning this marriage. “Come.” 

She offers you a bedecked hand, rings, and bangles gleaming against her skin. All the finery a woman could want. Sullenly you take her hand as she pulls you beside her, her hands take yours in a solid grip. 

“Your sister’s passing was a tragedy, but the gods have smiled upon us, in that Acacius is willing to continue the betrothal with you,” her voice is soft, you stare at your clasped hands. She’d done this before, when you’d first been promised to the Temple of Minerva. 

How strange to be here again, a child begging her mother to see reason and send you back. She pulls your hands up to her lips, pressing a warm kiss to them, as more tears spill from your eyes. Rolling warm, and wet down your cheeks. 

“I don’t want to marry him Mama,” a soft sob leaves you, and you bury your face into her shoulder, losing yourself in her smell once more, you forget how much you’ve missed her. Missed this, just being with her, but there’s a hollow feeling inside of you, your sister should be here, and that makes more tears form. Another tut and her arms wrap around you, a hand goes to your cheek, another to your back. “I was happy at the Temple.” 

She hums low in her throat, the hand on your back rubbing soothing circles against your spine. She is warm, and solid, a soothing presence and she lets you weep. You don’t know how long you cry for but finally the hiccuping sobs ebb and you calm. 

She pulls back her hands returning to your cheeks as she takes in your red eyes, and tear-streaked face. 

“My love, I will say this to you, I understand more than you know,” she brushes a stray strand of hair out of your eyes, curling the wayward pieces behind your ear. “I know the fear of marrying a man, much less a military man.” 

You sniffle as she gives you a weak smile. “I swore to the gods, I would never commit the sin of marrying one of my girls to someone like their father.” 

She pulls back, her hands resting on her lap, your tears have dried and you sigh, nodding, face downcast as you consider her words. 

“I swear my love, I know your sister dreamed of love, and of a grand marriage, I assure you that General Acacius is a good man,” her fingers lift your chin and your eyes meet, she gives you a final wistful smile, “it may not be a marriage of love, but…maybe it can be a marriage of equals.” 

-

The next week passes in a blur, and suddenly it’s the hour before your wedding. The final adjustments to your sister's dress are being made. You stand alone, a slave placing pins in the areas the garment might drag. 

Silently staring at the reflection in the copper before you. You don’t recognize the girl in the reflection. Your hair has been styled in the traditional bridal braids. A golden hairnet pinned against your scalp, a few strands have managed to escape. Make up paints your skin, mica shimmers on your eyelids, kohl darkening your waterline. 

The slave pauses in her adjustments, she glances up with a fearful look. 

“M–my lady, I’ve run out of pins–” 

A spark of your father’s rage courses through you, of course it doesn’t fit you it was meant for your sister. 

“Go fetch some then!” 

You don’t mean to snap but your nerves are shot as it is. She jumps and with a fearful bow leaves the room. Alone you slump, staring at yourself, unwilling to keep staring at the stranger before you. Your sister truly spared no detail, the embroidery along the edges is her finest work. With golden thread painstakingly sewn into the edges, when it catches the light it almost seems to glow like fire. The main shawl dyed a deep burgundy, is decorated with words of protection, along with her favorite flowers, pale lilies blooming along the skirt. 

I want him to think me a goddess made flesh. 

You hear her in the back of your mind, and wonder…if you should have admonished her. Maybe her vanity was her downfall, and the gods sought to correct her error. Tears spring to your eyes at the thought, no, they couldn’t have. 

She was good, and kind; her only wish was to marry and give her husband strong sons. Now she lays alone, and cold in the family crypts. 

Your thoughts are interrupted by a loud chorus of calls from the atrium.

You hear it somewhere below, the revels have begun. The boisterous voice of your father as he jokes and cajoles with his old war fellows. The wine is flowing freely tonight, he has much to celebrate. 

“-it’s a good thing you had another one!” 

A laugh from your father as he claps someone on the back. 

“Ha! The only thing a second daughter is good for!” 

The rage sparks again, and before you can stop to think, you’re grabbing a jar of perfumed oil. Throwing it with a shriek, it lands with a satisfying shatter against the copper mirror. The thick liquid drips to the floor in a dark puddle on the sandstone. 

Your outburst has called attention to the crowd, a few moments of silence and your mother appears with the slave who left you. She gives a withering glare to the woman, who cowers, before turning her gaze to you. You clench your fist ready to fight, the rage in you growing, daring your mother to say something, anything.

“My love–” there is no time to admonish you, as a great rushing of horses and the wheels of a chariot sound, along with calls from the atrium. 

He's here. 

Before you can think your mother and the slave rush to finish the last minute adjustments, and finally the fine veil is placed over your head. You're dragged through the halls, almost tripping on the skirt, that’s still too long for your legs. 

Your sister’s belt is cinched so tight it cuts into the soft fat of your stomach, at least an old pair of your sandals fits, one of the only things of yours on you tonight. Your mother stops you just outside the atrium. The crowd is rowdy, the sweet smell of wine, the smokey herbs of the many roasted beasts, and finally the mixture of the florals from the many bundles of your sister’s favorite flowers fills your nose.

It’s beautiful, and your sister would have been beaming. You feel your stomach churn, your mother’s fingers rub soothingly along your arm, but it doesn’t quell the fear to run, the deer forced into the hunter’s trap. 

You don’t want to, but your eyes search the crowd, none of your brothers are in attendance. Your mother mentioned that all had been called away to far reaches of the Empire, one a rising commander in his own right. Another a promising scholar in Alexandria, and the last is a Senator, most likely schmoozing with the twin emperors to gain more political favor. 

Of course none of them felt it dire to come to their younger sister’s funeral, and the other’s marriage. You’re not surprised…though maybe a bit hurt, after all…they should have at least come home to give your sister her last rights. But even that is too pitiful a request compared to their great lives.

There are others here, all your father’s friends, and their wives, entertaining themselves with food and drink. Dressed in the finery expected for nobility, none of them take your attention for too long. 

You see your father speaking animatedly with someone you don’t recognize. He wears the traditional Generals uniform, the armor a pitch black, with the extravagant golden embellishments. A long red cape, fastened at his shoulder, you almost wonder if the man came straight from campaign. 

Then again…the twin emperors have been insistent that their empire grow, and the General has been the ever faithful war dog. You’d never met him in person, only the high Priestess of Minerva could bless the generals before a campaign.

You are loath to admit it, but he's handsome. In a rugged way, a strong jaw, full lips, a proud nose, with tanned skin. His beard is shorter but well kept, and his hair, was probably once a deep brown, has greyed and silvered with age, is kept in neat curls. 

His eyes remain on your father, but as if the gods enjoy your torment, seem to feel your gaze upon him. He turns, and those eyes the color of polished mahogany lance through you. 

For a moment you forget to breathe, forget to think. Those eyes take you in, just as you had done moments ago. But it’s short lived as your father spots you, and your mother. 

“Ah! Acacius, your bride arrives!” He leaves the General to come usher you over, you’re grateful for the veil, the fabric is thick enough it hides your face, so he can’t see your face very well, can’t see the panicked look in your eyes, as your father yanks you from your mother’s protective grasp. 

You want to reach out to her, to claw your way back, scream, dig your fingers into his eyes till he releases you, but resist. As he pushes you to the General, up close he’s nothing like you thought. He bows his head to you with a soft, “my Lady.” 

You respond in kind with a low bow and a muttered, “my Lord.” 

And with that the ceremony begins, with Acacius taking his place besides the officiant. One of your father’s many senatorial friends. 

Your father’s grip is a painful shackle around your wrist, the stump of his left pinky digs into your arm. 

“You will do well to make him happy girl,” he snarls beneath the music, his gaze burning a hole into the side of your skull. “It’s because of me, he accepted you, remember that.” 

You bite your cheek, the taste of copper filling your mouth as you ignore the remark, in favor of staring at the man who will take his place. 

The ceremony is short, the officiant stumbles over your name, as he clearly practiced for your sister’s name. It makes the ache in your chest grow, through the ceremony you feel the General’s gaze upon you as the final call for the gods to bless your union is made. 

“General, you may now reveal your bride, and take her to your home as is commanded by the gods.” 

Your heart has leapt from your chest to your throat as his hands take the veil and lift, revealing your face to him. 

Your eyes meet his, and he stares silently at you, those dark eyes taking you in, he leans forward and presses a kiss to the corner of your mouth. His lips are soft, the rasp of his beard against your skin sending a chill down your spine. The kiss is quick, emotionless, before pulling away, he glances to the side, you follow his gaze. Your mother stands beside your father, tears stream down her face, and your heart breaks seeing her in such despair. 

“Take a moment with your family, I will collect you in a moment.” 

You don’t waste a second rushing away from him to your mother’s arms, she collects you with a soft sob. You can’t help the tears that spring forth. 

“My love, my dear,” she weeps into your hair, and you cling to her, a little girl once more. Afraid of your father’s anger had you broken something, or worse he had come home from a failed campaign, and no one would be spared from his rage. 

She would be alone after this, alone with only your father for company, and he barely stayed home long enough to acknowledge her. She presses a kiss to your forehead. 

“Please…Mama, please,” a whimpered plea into her bosom, where your tears stain the silk, you look up to her eyes wide and terrified. “Don’t let him take me.” 

Her lower lip quivers, and more tears spill from her beautiful eyes, she shakes her head, her answer, and it cleaves your heart into two. She can’t stop this, no matter how much you beg, plead, all she could do was make sure he was a good man. You feel it then, Acacius’ arms wrap around your middle, the shriek that leaves you is animalistic, your fingers claw into your mother’s dress. 

“No! Mama! No!” It only takes one pull from Acacius for your mother to release you, your fingers pulled from her dress by your father. So you go to the next best thing, his arms, nails dig into skin. He grunts, the only sign of his pain, as he hauls you away from your mother who wails in chorus with your panicked shrieks. 

Your mother collapses, her palms slapping against the marbled floors in grief, your father just stands there, no better than a statue. No one will comfort your mother tonight…though you hope, somehow your sister will. That her spirit will curl about your mother’s form and give her rest. 

Or maybe she’ll spare you the horrors of the wedding night, but as you struggle uselessly against Acacius you know neither of those things will happen. As he drags you from the atrium to his chariot. You struggle, scream, and cry a final plea to Minerva to intervene. 

But alas she does not answer, and you're dragged from the safety of your mother’s arms and to Acacius’ villa where your wedding night awaits. 

-

It’s quiet in the spacious bedchamber, as you consider the marble flooring beneath your feet. Acacius hasn’t appeared since he placed you here. You don’t know how long it’s been, but you’ve ripped the veil and golden hairnet off. Your hair remains in its painful tangle of braids, you’re unsure of how to get them out without help. 

You take in the room around you, and from what you could see of Acacius’ villa like you thought it’s a luxurious home, maybe even greater than your father’s. 

You take in the fineries here, golden chairs and marble-topped tables. The fires of the braziers warm the room comfortably, and a soft breeze from the outside keeps the air fresh. The light of the fires gleam off the cups, and decanters of wine placed about the room, even the bed silks are a fine fabric you’ve never felt before. You absentmindedly run your hand over the softness, considering your options. The bed is pushed to the farthest wall, a behemoth of dark wood, and fine muslin curtains. 

Large windows line the eastern wall, to let in the light of the morning, and doors lead to what you can only assume is a terrace. Your legs twitch as you consider rushing to the doors, seeing how far the drop is, escaping into the night, the General none-the-wiser. 

But the idea is foolish, he’s a General with thousands at his beck and call, you are a noble girl, raised in the halls of a temple…You’d get no further than the city gates if you’re lucky. 

Your thoughts are interrupted as the sounds of footsteps echo into your silence. Your head snaps to the noise, a deer suddenly aware of the danger lurking somewhere in the trees.

He stands in the doorway, orange light of the fires play over his face, his eyes black pits, face unreadable. Your heart stutters in your chest, as you both consider each other. 

He’s removed his armor, though it does nothing to soothe you, he still stands with the rigidity of a military man. Prepared for battle should he need to be. You consider fighting him, but it’s a laughable idea. 

He could kill you with a flick of his wrist if he so dared, but he hasn’t moved closer. So you both remain silent, observing. 

It is a tense standoff, both of you sizing the other up, Acacius makes the first move. Taking a chair and settling into it with an exhausted huff. 

You tense, watching him as he takes a cup and decanter, pouring a healthy swig of wine, before drinking deeply. He leans forward, elbows resting against his knees, his fingertips trace the rim of his cup. 

“I am pleased to see you haven’t run yet,” he gives a humorless chuckle, and takes another drink. “I will say, this is not how I expected my wedding night to go.” 

You remain silent, waiting for his next move, he doesn’t say anything for a moment staring into the cup with a pensive look. 

“Those braids look uncomfortable,” those umber eyes meet your gaze. You can’t find your voice, so you nod. He sets the cup aside and stands, you can’t help your gaze falling to his exposed legs. The bunching of his muscles beneath his skin, the subtle strength there as he approaches you, a subtle grace to his movements that years of swordplay, and war-making has refined. The glow of his skin in the firelight, paints golden highlights along his flesh. 

A clearing of his throat stops your exploration, your gaze snaps up to Acacius, he gives you a small gesture to turn around. Tense you follow his directions, a moment of indecision, before the softest touch against your scalp. 

You can’t stop the yelp that leaves you, and the jolt of your body. The touch leaves, and there is a sigh through his nose. You wince, awaiting the strike that’s sure to come. 

Acacius surprises you again, a hand cups your chin and turns you to face him. You’re shivering, and fearfully you look up at the General. 

“I–I’m sorry–” 

“I promise, I will not strike you my Lady, I just want to unbraid your hair.” His hand is warm, his fingers large, and his palm is rough with calluses from holding a sword. You try not to notice how his hand easily encompasses your lower jaw. You nod, and again turn away. 

This time when his touch returns you steady yourself. For such large fingers, you’re surprised at their delicate caresses. As he finds the pins, and ties that keep your bridal braids in place. Slowly the pain of the too tight braids are relieved. 

His touch is gentle, the final braid is undone and he takes a moment to card his fingers through your tresses. A ripple of something courses through you, goosebumps alight along your skin. He chuckles, you finally find your voice. 

“Thank you, my Lord.” 

He doesn’t answer, instead you feel the brush of his knuckles against your cheek, again you jolt away. 

You know what must be done tonight, but you had hoped, and prayed, that he’d busy himself with his something, anything else. That you’d be forgotten and left to your own devices for the night. Acacius sighs through his nose, disappointment clear in his tone. 

“It is our wedding night—”

“I know my Lord–”

“I do not wish to force you.” 

The statement silences you, your heart pounding in its cage as you clench your fists in your lap. 

“My Lord Acacius please–” 

“My Lady,” he kneels beside you, one of his hands easily encasing both of yours. You resist every urge in your body to pull away from him, to scream, shout that you won’t allow him near you. “Your father told me, he would visit in the morning, to assure his daughter had done her duty.” 

You will give him this, he looks disgusted at the prospect, those full lips pulled into a grimace as he considers you. You glance down at his hand over yours, before meeting his gaze again. 

“Lord Acacius please, I was given as a child to the Temple of Minerva, I have no…no sense of the things required of a wife.” 

You press forward, one of your hands leaving the captivity of his to cover it. He seems surprised at the touch, glancing down at your hand before meeting your gaze again. His eyes are beautiful, and considering him for a moment, you recall your sister’s voice. 

He’s handsome sissy, you would agree. 

You can’t help the tears that spring to your eyes, you do agree, he’s handsome. A part of you was jealous that she remained at home, with your mother. But after settling in the temple you knew this life would never be yours, and some small part of you…knows that hint of jealousy still lingers, somewhere deep in your mind. It would have grown a bit more seeing who she married today. 

“You can learn–”

“I was given to Minerva,” you snap, a spike of your father’s rage, Acacius’ brows lift, a flash of surprise crosses his face. The hand beneath yours tensing. 

“What’s done is done, and your father would sooner kill you then return you to the temple.” 

His eyes darken and your shoulders slump, he’s well aware of your father’s reputation then. Well aware of the violence he so easily wielded even when not in battle. 

“But you could return me–” 

“I do not intend to.” 

That statement leaves you bewildered, and scrambling to come up with something, anything for him to change his mind. He leans forward, in the glow of the braziers he looks otherworldly, and you can’t find your voice. 

“I swear to you, I shall be a devoted husband, and I am willing to give you liberties in this union,” you consider silently, gaze going from his eyes and to his lips, “I cannot give you all the freedoms priesthood promises, but you will want for nothing.” 

You bite your cheek, searching his umber eyes for any hint of a lie. His other hand comes up once more to cup your cheek. This time you do not flinch from his touch. 

“I can make it pleasurable for you,” heat rises to your face as his thumb brushes over the apple of your cheek, “but this union must be consummated tonight, as the gods demand.” 

The silence between both of you is thick, he’s right, you know he is. There is no way you will be able to return to the temple, it is either death or Acacius. 

I swore to the gods, I would never commit the sin of marrying one of my girls to someone like their father.

Your mother’s words ring out in your mind, you close your eyes to stop the tears forming there, and nod. 

“I need to hear you,” he whispers, he’s moved closer to your face, the warmth of his breath ghosts over your lips. “Please, my Lady.” 

“I–I accept Lord Acacius, but–” you don’t know why it tumbles from your lips so freely, “but please, I don’t want it to hurt.” 

His lips press to yours suddenly, your eyes snapping open at the touch. The kiss is quick, he moves on from your lips to your cheek, then jaw, ending at your neck. 

You gasp as his tongue slips from between his lips, wetting the skin above your pulse. A heat rushes through you as his lips suck on the skin there, teeth nipping. 

Your fingers turn to claws as they grasp at his tunic, his hands shift easily, one going to cup your head. The other around your waist pulling you against him. His lips continue their exploration of your neck, finding new bits of flesh that he attends to. 

Pulling noises from you that surprise you, as a feeling courses through you, like you're hot and cold at the same time. You can feel your pulse between your legs, his mouth shifts further up your neck, Acacius pauses at your ear. 

“As we are going to be husband and wife,” he whispers into the shell of your ear, his lips sending electric zaps along the cartilage. You shiver as his voice drops to a rasp, “please call me Marcus, can you do that?” 

He nuzzles into the corner of your jaw, giving the skin another nip, a soft keen leaves you, as the nip sparks with a soft pain before dulling to a throb. As your fingers flex again in his tunic, unsure if you want to pull him closer or push you both apart. 

He has to be doing something, must have given you something, for this–feeling, this sensation to be burning through you. 

The hand at your waist is quick, fingers plucking at your sister’s belt, and it releases with a soft clink. The soft leather falls away, leaving your dress to sag, heat rises again to your cheeks and you squirm a moment. 

Acacius’ hand in your hair tightens, and for a moment you fear you’ve angered him. But all he does is move lower, the tip of his nose trailing down your neck, along the path he created with his lips. 

Marks of varying colors have bloomed across your skin, before stopping just above the cut of your bodice. Those deep brown eyes meet yours in silent question, you give a nod. The pulse between your thighs is growing. 

He works quickly finding the folds of your dress that keep it around your shoulders and covering your breasts. The silk falls away, you move to cover yourself, only the other temple maidens, and the priestess’ had ever seen you naked. 

Embarrassment fills you, should he see you, but Acacius is quick, his hands find your wrists. The short tussle sends you back onto the bed, Acacius hovering above you. He positions your hands beside your head. For a moment you consider fighting once more, thinking he intends you harm, but freeze as you see his eyes explore your newly exposed flesh. You can feel every touch of his gaze as he takes in the swell of them, your nipples pebbling in the sudden chill. 

“M–Marcus–ah!” 

Saying his name spurs him into his next move, his face descends and he presses a kiss to your sternum, then shifting to your right breast. The scrape of his beard on your skin sends flutters of pleasure through you. 

A surprised moan leaves you as his lips find your nipple, pulling the hardening bud between them, sucking lightly your body convulses. Your eyes roll, the muscles of your abdomen clench, fingers twitch digging into his knuckles as he keeps them pinned. You gasp, back arching, pressing harder into his mouth. As if your body begs for more of the sensation. 

“M–Marcus,” you whimper his name as his tongue swirls around the bud, and gives it another suck, toying with it gently between his teeth. “Marcus please!” 

Your mind is becoming a fog, unsure of what you’ve begun to beg for, but the pulsing between your thighs has grown almost painful, and even as Acacius switches to your other breast giving the neglected bud the same attention. 

You squirm, thighs pressing together, another soft moan leaves you as the pressure gives some relief. Acacius pauses in his attention to your breast, his eyes are changed, that umber brown swallowed by the dark of his pupil. He presses kisses to the swell of your breasts, before asking, “What do you need of me my Lady?” 

You whine struggling to understand his question, as your thighs writhe, you bite your lip whimpering. 

“You said it wouldn’t hurt–” 

“Where does it hurt?” His reaction is quick, he returns to your face pressing a kiss to the underside of your chin. “Tell me.” His breath is warm, and smells of the sweet wine he indulged in before all this. 

“B–Between–” it feels foolish to say it, to mention the heat between your legs, the strange throb that’s continued to grow since he began to touch you. 

“Where?” he asks again, another soft kiss to your jaw. 

“Between my legs,” you whine, the writhing of your thighs no longer offering the necessary relief. You feel feverish, unwell, your stomach tightening uncomfortably. Acacius huffs a laugh against your neck, he releases your hands trailing his fingers down your arms. Over your breasts, where he pauses a moment to toy with your nipples once more. 

Your body reacts back bowing, pressing yourself into his palms, Acaius hums appreciatively, before his hands delve lower. Pushing down the rest of your sister’s wedding gown, you’re left bare to him. 

Again the embarrassment of it floods you, but Acaius is quick to stop you, laying on his side, he pulls you against him, one hand cupping your hip, cradling it  between his legs where something rubs against you, your other hand nestled between your bodies, the other splayed to the side finding purchase in the sheets. 

Acacius pauses taking his bottom lip between his teeth whilst considering you. 

“I promise this will make the pain go away,” he whispers against your cheek, and you nod, half mad with the overwhelming sensations devouring every coherent thought. 

“Please.” You whine, and his hand slides between your legs, a noise leaves you that’s closer to a howl than anything. The rough pads of his fingers find your clit, two circle the bud slowly, teasingly. Before pinching it between them, your hips buck into his palm. He groans softly into your hair. Your fingers grasp at the sheets, the sudden onslaught of pleasure leaving you reeling in its wake. 

Only a few garbled pleas, and his name can leave your lips, it’s all your mind can remember to say. As his fingers release your clit, and return to swirling in indiscernible patterns around the sensitive bundle.

It feels like too much, the rough stroke of his finger pad against your clit, your fingers close around his wrist. 

“W–Wait–” your tongue can barely form the words, it’s too much, and if he keeps touching you like this, you fear you’re going to break. A sensation you can’t name growing in your belly, the throb between your legs. The wetness there drips down your thighs, staining the sheets beneath you. 

“T–too much, it’s too much.” Acacius hushes you, the muscles of his wrist flexing against your palm, as he continues his pattern. Every touch sends bolts of lightning up your spine, clouding your thoughts. 

“It’s alright, let it come,” he whispers against your throat, the rasp of his beard adding another feeling that makes your body ache. Muscles bunching, toes curling, your mouth opens in a silent scream as something washes over you. Overwhelms you, your nails dig into his shoulder. He muffles a noise into your collarbone. 

This must be the gods, or death, or–or something. Your body convulses, the throbbing between your legs pulses with every beat of your heart. Eyes rolling in your skull, Acacius groans as you settle. Something hard presses against your hip, but you're still caught in the undertow of whatever spell he’s placed you in. 

“M–Marcus,” you whine, as his finger toys with your clit again, the feeling borders on painful, as the touch causes another throb to race through you. “Wh–what did–” 

“To help with the next part,” he hums, his fingers leave between your legs. He pulls away from you. Body shivering at the loss of his warmth, the solid form of his body against yours, and you feel more exposed than ever before. A deer caught in the line of Diana’s arrow. As those soft umber eyes look over your exposed flesh, pausing at the swell of your breasts heaving with every breath. He pulls instantly at his wedding tunic, shucking the last article of clothing off. 

His skin is a sun kissed tan, and scars lace across the expanse of his flesh. Swords, spears, knives. All manner of brutality has marked him, as your gaze travels lower you stop. The hardness you felt against your hip, long, with a mushroom-like head, a pearl of fluid leaking from the tip. It bobs with his breathing, veins pulse along the shaft, it looks painful. You pull your hazy gaze to meet his, and your breath hitches. 

His eyes gleam in the firelight, he reminds you of the towering Jupiter, or Mars. A god made flesh, and your heart stutters as he kneels on the bed between your legs. That fear returning full force. You stumble, and scramble in the sheets. They stick to your sweat-coated skin, and you can’t escape as he settles over you. 

Caging you beneath his form, you struggle, Acacius traps your chin between his thumb and forefinger. 

“I will go slow,” he whispers, as again, tears brim along your lashes. His thumb rubs the hollow of your cheek, in an attempt to soothe. It doesn’t, as your heartbeat spikes, and your hands go to his chest weakly. His skin is rough, the scars knotted and strange against your fingers. He makes a noise low in his throat as your hands splay over his flesh. 

“But–I thought–” he settles between your thighs, you look into his eyes, pleadingly, a gasp leaves you as his length brushes against your core. He grunts, and his length twitches, you feel it, sudden and foreign. You squirm, and a hand lashes out grabbing your hip to still you. 

“Be still,” he whispers through clenched teeth. It’s a command and you listen, forcing your eyes closed, his hand leaves your hip to trail between your bodies. For a moment you think he only means to pleasure himself, but you tense as the head of his cock brushes against your cunt. 

“Acacius what–” you're silenced by the pain, though his previous ministrations helped, he’s large. The stretch of him entering you burns, your fingernails dig into his flesh, as if that will quell the pain of him entering you. 

You can’t breathe, can’t think, as all your mind can focus on is the stretch of his cock filling you. The way his length spears you, opening you, a soft whine of pain leaves you. Acacius huffs above you, the fingers beside your head curl into the sheets. He leans down forehead against your shoulder. 

“So tight,” he rasps, he almost sounds to be in pain as well. You think for a moment, maybe he’ll stop, that it’s too much for him as well. But he presses on, inch by painful inch he opens your cunt. “I’m sorry.” It’s whispered to the flesh above your heart, his lips brush the skin, sending a jolt of something through you once more. Just when you think you can’t take anymore, he settles. You whimper feeling the press of his hips between your own. 

“Acacius, please…” You don’t know what you’re begging for, as the uncomfortable fullness settles. You swear you can feel every part of him, the throb of his cock as it rests heavy and thick in your cunt a warm sort of pain that lingers behind your navel. His cock twitches and you jolt, Acacuis grunts above you, again that hand returns to your hips. 

“Y–You must be still,” he gasps, your fingers flex, you glance down, seeing the red half moons  where your nails dug into his flesh. You silently hope he felt a bit of the pain he put you through. “Tell me when it stops hurting.” 

You glance up, those eyes giving you pause, he’s watching you. Taking in every wince, every hiss of breath as he remains still inside you. For a moment you consider lying, telling him it’s too much, but as you both remain there you feel it. The burn subsides, though the fullness remains. 

You take your lip between your teeth considering him, the greatest General of Rome, waiting for your lead. You shift, and Acacius gasps, your cunt flutters around him. He shudders above you and his length throbs again inside you. 

“D–Don’t–move,” he pants his fist clenching again on your hip, his head lowering to press his forehead to your shoulder again. A stutter of breath against your skin. “Does it still hurt?” 

A whispered plea into your breast, you hesitate to answer him, fearing another onslaught of pain. His voice is soft, as his hips give a subtle thrust, “I swear my lady, I will make sure we both find our pleasures.” 

A choked noise leaves you, as his pelvis grinds against your clit, your cunt walls quiver around him. Acacius gasps, his arm shakes, and you whine. 

“Please–” he grunts, “tell me I can move.” His dark eyes meet yours and your lungs refuse to breathe, your heart stops beating for a moment, and the world slows. His skin shins with a layer of sweat, he’s trapped his bottom lip between his teeth.

“Move,” a whispered acceptance, Acacius takes it with fervor, pulling his hips back, your head falling back into the softness of the sheets. You feel every inch of him, every pulse of his veins as he pulls from your soaked core. 

Acacius curses under his breath as he begins a steady, hard rhythm. Every thrust of his hips sends new shock waves of bliss up your spine. Your cunt flutters around his shaft, with every thrust he seems to plunge deeper. 

Your legs shift, thighs settling on the solid form of his hips, the movement making you tighten. Acacius gasps, you feel it, another pulse of his cock. He grunts a hand moving from beside your head to between your bodies. Fingers finding your clit again, you keen, toes curling as another wave threatens to overwhelm you. 

“Are you close?” He huffs, his hips continue in their thrusting, his fingers dance along your clit. Your eyes can hardly focus on the man straining above you, all you can offer is another high pitched moan, your hips beginning to rise to meet his thrusts. 

Acacius groans again, his arm shaking as he pistons into you with a gratuitous fervor, the sounds of your coupling fill the room. Your skin shines with sweat, as does his, those eyes meet yours as he grits his teeth. 

His fingers press against your clit, and his cock thrusts so deep inside of you that for a moment you see stars. Your body stills, you forget to breathe for a moment, you think a scream of his name leaves you, as your back arches pressing into Acacius who shouts. 

Your cunt quivers around his length, you feel a warmth as his cock throbs inside of you. Both of you remain still, breath returning in soft pants as your vision returns to you. Acaius huffs above you, his hair, once well styled is mussed about his face. But you think distantly that it suits him, he leans down pressing his forehead to your chest. 

For a moment you wonder if you will have to remain like this, until with a slow movement Acacius pulls from you. A whine leaves you, as he pulls from your cunt. 

You lay on the bed, eyes closed, sweat cooling uncomfortably on your skin. None of your muscles wish to work, and you don’t sense Acacius still in the room. 

You’re shocked to feel…disappointment worming its way into your mind, after everything you should be grateful that he’s left you be. 

But you’re surprised again as his footfalls sound, with a tired blink you open your eyes and glance up. Acacius has put on a robe, and he kneels beside the bed with a rag, he takes his time cleaning you. 

It reminds you, for a moment, of the baths in the Temple where you would clean, and help clean other initiates. His hands are careful as he reaches between your thighs, noticing you tense he’s gentle. Careful of your still sensitive core the roughness of the rag makes you whine, hips bucking away from it. His hand steady's you as he works.

The rag cleans away the wetness that drenches your thighs, and butt. He finishes his cleaning, and then moves to lift you from the edge of the bed to the middle, carefully tucking you into the soft sheets. Your body doesn’t respond to anything, not even the want to help him does it respond, until he turns to leave. 

“Marcus,” your voice is soft, unsure, but he stops and turns looking at you, “aren’t you…going to stay?” 

His eyes seem to lighten at the question, he bows his head, “Would you like me to?” 

You nod, and he relaxes moving back to the bed he settles in beside you, careful not to move you too much. You don’t mind it though, you notice that his sheets smell of jasmine. You huddle into the sheets, staring at the general silently. 

And you consider…this marriage my not be one of love…but maybe…of equals.

[treesbian]

my friends yousef and mona have gotten only 2 donations in 2 days.

mona is recovering from a lung surgery, their one year old has a skin infection, and they have to pay for their medical care + medicine, general essentials and general childcare items as well. it's expensive just to live in gaza right now, and i don't know how much of their evacuation fund is being depleted by every day expenses. please help them however you can. if you can't donate, share the post or make your own sharing their link. i know we're all struggling, but i also know we can do something. please.

10 kr is 94 cents usd

vetted here

[inseobts]

hiii, i really liked your writing! i was wondering if you could do like roomate headcanons, like what it would be like to be roomates with monster trio (one piece) tyyy

Monster Trio as Your Roommates - headcanons

a/n: I'm honestly not good with headcanons so I apology, but I tried 🥺

characters: luffy, zoro and sanji

masterlist || ko-fi

── .✦ Monkey D. Luffy:

• Living with Luffy is pure chaos, but the fun kind. Every day feels like an adventure because he gets random bursts of energy and insists you join him.

• He raids the fridge constantly. If you leave leftovers, they’re gone within minutes. You tried labeling your food more than once, but everytime, Luffy just laughed and said, “But we live in the same house, it’s our food, right? What's yours is also mine and what's mine is also yours” tbh when it's about food the last option in never real.

• He’s surprisingly low-maintenance. He doesn’t mind messes (actually, he creates most of them), but if you ever clean up after him, he looks at you like you just saved his life “WOAH, YOU’RE AMAZING!”

• You have no personal space around him. He flops onto the couch next to you, drapes himself over your shoulder while you’re on your phone, and sometimes even falls asleep on you.

• Randomly bursts into your room at all hours without knocking. You’ll be peacefully reading, and suddenly BANG—“HEY WANNA GO GET MEAT?”

• He’s not the best at chores, but sometimes he tries (just because you threaten to throw his preacious meat)! Sometimes you have to make it a game “Let’s see who can fold their laundry the fastest!”, and suddenly, he’s all in.

• If you ever look sad, he immediately notices. He doesn’t always know what to do, but he’ll sit next to you with a goofy grin and say, “Wanna do something fun?” Next thing you know, you’re having a late-night rooftop picnic or sneaking into a 24-hour arcade.

── .✦ Roronoa Zoro:

• The best and worst roommate at the same time.

• On one hand, he’s independent, doesn’t invade your space, and won’t judge you for sleeping in or having your own lazy day/time. On the other hand… he gets lost in your own apartment, and it's not even that big.

• You once asked him to grab something from the kitchen. Thirty minutes later, he texted you from the balcony, (I'm exaggerating… but am I really?).

• His room is weirdly clean. Everything has a place, and he barely has any clutter stuff. But the moment he steps into the shared space? His dumbbells, swords, and clothes start creeping into every corner.

• Works out at the most ungodly hours. You wake up at 3 AM to clanking weights and grunts. If you complain, he’ll offer to train you, which… thanks but no thanks.

• Naps everywhere. Couch? Of course. Floor? Sure. Your bed? If he's lost and it’s the closest surface, he will take it. If you try to wake him up, he just grumbles, rolls over, and keeps sleeping.

• He doesn’t talk much, but when he does, he’s blunt “You look like shit. You sleepin’ enough?” But he also has a quietly protective side, like if you ever come home looking upset, he won’t pry, but he’ll toss you a drink and say “Sit. Seems like you need a break, and a drink.”

• Once punched a hole in the wall during a nightmare. He fixed it himself (not that well), now there’s a weirdly shaped patch that you both pretend isn’t there.

• He forgets things like paying bills or replacing household items, but he always remembers to check if you’ve eaten. If you skip meals, he’ll shove food at you and grumble “Tch. Don’t be stupid.”

── .✦ Vinsmoke Sanji:

• The real perfect roommate—except for the fact that he lowkey treats you like a VIP guest instead of an actual roommate.

• Cooks every meal. You haven’t had instant ramen since moving in because Sanji insists on making you something fresh. He even remembers your favorite comfort foods and makes them on bad days.

• Gets way too excited about grocery shopping, but you find it funny “We’re getting fresh ingredients, Y/N! You deserve the best!”. And when you feel lazy he will just do everything alone.

• The apartment always smells amazing because he’s constantly baking or experimenting with recipes. But this also means you randomly get taste-tested. He’ll appear out of nowhere, spoon in hand... “Try this and tell me if it needs more seasoning.”

• He keeps the place immaculate. If you’re messy, he doesn’t complain, he just sighs dramatically and cleans up after you. If you do clean, he fawns over you “Mon dieu, you’re an angel! You don't have to do this, I'm here for a reason.” (which is not tho be your slave but if he's happy...).

• Will absolutely flirt with you. Even if you’ve lived together for years, he does not stop “Good morning, my dear! You brighten up this apartment more than the sun itself~”

• If you ever bring a date home, he suffers. He tries to act cool, but you see the way he clenches his jaw and mutters things while aggressively chopping vegetables. Or he starts acting so sad that he walks with his gaze fixed on the floor, dragging his feet to his room or the kitchen.

• But if someone hurts you? Oh, they’re done “Who do I have to kill?” (You think he’s joking. He’s not.)

• You catch him staring sometimes, when you’re laughing, when you’re focused on something, when you’re just existing. When you call him out, he turns away, rubbing the back of his neck “Can’t help it, darling.”

[carbonfiction]

A little suprise

Summary: After another cosy Christmas morning shared together, it’s time for the gifts. Little things thoughtfully bought, wrapped and passed over. This year however, theres something else. Something you've meticulously managed to keep hidden for a little while now.

Master list. Words: 1.2k

Warnings: tw mentions of pregnancy/pregnancy announcement. (Chosen to tw this simply bc im aware of how tough it can be for those struggling with conception/fertility ect, especially this time time of year. i want you to know my heart is with you, your time will come🫶) Lumberjack Logan is a sweetheart, mostly just a nice lil finding-out-he’s-gonna-be-a-dad Logan fluff with a smiiiiige of swearing. Lo calls reader “momma”

The parasites in me yearned for origins dad Logan, so I had to write origins dad Logan. Or in other words, its Christmas and I desperately can’t stop thinking about that large man with a teeeeny tiny baby.. Tadaaaaaa <33 merry Christmas loves!

Christmas morning was always peaceful in the howlett household. It would begin with sleep laced kisses, limbs tangled together as you hold each other close. It's hours before either of you actually leave the bed, too warm and content with eachothers presence to even consider it.

But when you do the first place you go, after the bathroom of course, is to the kitchen. Logan begins breakfast- or nearer brunch by then. While you make sure the coffee machine is switched on and freshly brewing the hot liquid into your usual cups- a cheesy wedding present from a friend, mugs that read 'Mr' and 'Mrs'.

Then, once dinner is roasting slowly in the oven for later, come the gifts. All soundtracked by a movie playing in the background. Little things wrapped and passed over- for you comes a cosy pair of pajamas with matching socks that you'd pointed out a while back, along with a little hamper full of your favorite treats; a perfect mix of sweet and savory to snack on when the mood takes you; or when wrapped up tighter watching a movie.

While you gift him a fresh collection of cigars and workboots that offer a little extra comfort to those long days he spends at the yard on his feet.

But.. Theres also something else. Something you've meticulously managed to keep hidden for a little while now.

You steady yourself with an anxious exhale before you tap logan on the knee. "Theres one last one.." you say with a smile, quickly retreating to the bedroom and coming back to stand infront of him with a neatly wrapped box in hand.

Logans brow rises, a crease then wedging between them as he looks over the gift and its carefully tied bow. "Thought we agreed on a couple things each?" he murmers.

Hes right, you had agreed that, both having felt like each others company was all you really needed..

"Well, its a Surprise..” you trail, urging him to open it as nuterally as you could. Anxiety festering deep in your chest, part of you unsure just how this would go down.

Its silent as his fingers pluck and pull at the ribbon, deftly untieing it until its left in a pile besides him on the couch. Next is the lid, decorative tissue paper also following as his eyes rake over the unveiled contense.

"Sweetheart?.." logan questions in a whisper, fingers gently lifting out a pair of tiny booties and a matching flannel shirt; Both purposely mirroring items he owned. "what.. what’s all this?”

Logan feels his heart hammer in his chest, mouth going dry. are you telling him what he thinks you are?

“What’s it look like Logan?" you giggle softly, a hint of nerves in your eyes as you look down at him. You grasp an ultrasound photo and the positive test from the pocket of your sweats then, placing them in his hands over the little shirt.

You watch as his eyes widen to the size of dinner plates, crease flying away from his brows as he takes in the words written on the test; illuminated by the soft glow of the tree lights. 'Positive'

“You-" he starts, words trembling dryly from his tongue. "you’re really pregnant?”

Tears begin to sting at your waterline as he looks up, your gazes meeting as you nod, bottom lip bitten tight between your teeth. "yeah, ‘m really pregnant.. gonna be a dad lo”

Sure, you'd had conversations in the past about this situation, had both agreed kids would be something you'd like to share one day, but you never actively began trying. Never fucked for the sake of conception. It had just.. happened.

A birthday celebration mixing with a slip up in taking your birth control- an accident you weren't sure you felt guilty for at this point, not with the look clouding over logans features.

Features soon shared by the little you or him growing inside you.

You wobble forward as Logans arms engulf your waist, pulling you toward him with the enthusiasm of a child receiving a toy they'd wanted forever.

Tears begin to stream down your cheeks, landing wetly on your fingers as they find home in the soft tufts of his hair.

“I’m gonna be a dad.." he murmers incredulous and full of wonder as his forehead presses into the fabric of your shirt. You dont know if hes talking to you or himself, but its just quiet enough for you to hear it through your now hiccuped sobs.

“Are you happy?” you sniffle, still slightly unsure. He feels you pull at his hair until his gaze meets you, chin resting gently on your ribs.

“shit sweetheart, yeah" he smiles and its bright on his face as he stands to hold you properly. Logans lips press against yours, the kiss filled with unspoken emotions as the addictive taste of him hits your tongue.

He holds you tightly at the waist for a few moments and its with trembling fingers he pulls back. His head dipping to look you in the eyes, touch twice as gentle when his hands come up from your sides to gently cup your cheeks. Calloused thumbs swiping at the tears that still fall "course I'm happy, are you?"

"Yeah. Yeah Im happy" you assure, teary eyes brightening. "beyond happy even"

A grin lights logans expression as he looks down, glittering as bright as the Christmas lights surrounding you.

"You know, I was.." he starts, clearing his throat as it crackles with emotion. "God i was just thinkin what a pretty momma you’ll make but.. you already are a momma huh.." one of his hands move again, deft fingers creeping under your shirt now until his large palm sits gently against the small swell of your stomach. Your heart skipping at the feel of the cool metal of his wedding band. "growing our kid in there..”

“Well, it’s technically sill early d-“ you go to say, but he cuts you off. “Your glowing already you know that sweetheart?"

His lips find yours again, fingers still cupping your jaw as his next words press against your mouth in a soft coo. "My beautiful girl.. Our baby's gorgeous momma"

Your arms wrap around his neck, swaying gently as love drunk grins adorn both your faces. The room filled with a new kind of excitement. A memory made you know both of you will remember forever. “i Love you Logan...” you affirm, hushed.

"Love you more sweetheart, like you wouldnt believe." he honeys back softly, stroking his thumb over your belly again "Giving me the damn world here"

Its silent then for a while after, appart from the crackle of the fire. Post dinner you both rest full, wrapped up in each others arms on the couch. you lying curled onto his chest.

Your fingers alternate drawing shapes and drumming on his left pectoral, wide grins still adorning your faces as you peek over at the test, photo, boots and flannel still sitting on the coffee table.

You hum softly then, breaking the silence with a simple whisper of his name. "Logan?"

He responds just as quiet, hand still not having left its new home on your tummy. "Yeah sweet girl?"

"Once i get huge.." you start with a teasing glint making logan cock a brow as he listens. "Im reserving the right to be carried around the house.."

That makes Logan chuckle, the louder rumble shaking beneath where you lay as you too break into a fit of giggles.

He shakes his head, lips kissing your hair softly as he speaks, still deeply amused. “Whatever you want momma, whatever you want."

Is this my best work? Fuck no, fluff is my kryptonite. But Was it a sweet thought? Yeaaa..