#instead of fucking taking it out on people who had nothing to do with the egg getting hurt?

[tuttle-did-it]

With you on all of this. I wanted to like Deanna. But the show seemed to decide that if Riker liked her, that was enough to make us like her.

But if I had been on this ship, I would have found it offensive that someone could just drill into my brain like that. I would have avoided her like the plague-- because I do find it quite invasive to have someone know how I was feeling and why-- all the time. I would feel incredibly vulnerable around someone like that-- if she was as powerful as they say, she could easily not only detect what people were feeling, but also influence that. I would hate being near someone like that because I am possessive of my thoughts and feelings. Certain topics-- especially tv-- sure, I can talk about feelings about that. But real life stuff? My past, traumas, etc? Those are mine. And someone seeing through them and announcing them to the whole bridge crew whenever she felt like it-- or even having the ability to do that-- I would steer clear of her.

And instead of them just insisting it is moral and fine and giving us what-- one single episode where they acknowledge how much power she could have over someone, how vulnerable it could make people around her? How easily she could fuck people over if she wanted to? Play with that a bit more. Have people uncomfortable around her. Have her trying to deal with crew who avoid her like the plague. Have crew who refuse to work with her, have some fucking conflict *somewhere.* have her do something bloody unethical where she crosses a line because she is so powerful and it causes actual problems instead of 'he's angry, captain,' and 'what do you think?' And 'how does that make you feel?' Either she's powerful and there are consequences for that power, or she os not powerful and there are consequences for that, too. But you're right-- everything she says, Beverly could have figured out as well.

Or, hell-- when Troi loses her powers, give her 12 episodes where she is trying to get it back. Where she has to prove she is more than just a lie detector machine. Where she has to become more. Data advanced from his programming. But none of the others ever did. And it was the worst with Troi. Give us a whole season where she has to prove she's more. Where sometimes bits of her powers are coming back, but then they blink out again. Where she just has to work for it and prove that no, she deserves to be there even without the powers. She is good enough to be there without them. Then, maybe she gets them back, maybe not. I honestly think she'd have been a better character of they *didn't* return. Shed have to find *something* more to say than 'he's angry, captain.' 'They're hiding something, captain.' It just makes him look incompetent not to see that. So take away her powers and make her work for it.

She's not a good therapist. I've gone to therapy, a lot. And the advice she gives people is worse than the shit you'd see from chat gpt. She's a terrible therapist. At least make her competent. At least hire a psychologist who can say 'she needs to dig deeper here, she can't just say 'and how does that make you feel?' Thats awful therapy. Barclay was a mess before she met him, but her 'counselling' just does absolutely nothing.

I wanted to like Troi. I genuinely have tried for decades to find something I like about her, some story about her I can care about. And there is just nothing for me. I cared more about Tasha in s1 and 'Yesterday's Enterprise' than I ever cared about Troi. I cared more about Ro Laren in her debut episode than I ever cared about Troi. More about Pulaski in a single season. More about Beverly in a single scene than I ever cared about Troi. Which is sad and absurd because she's in the show twice as much as these women-- maybe more of them all put together. She had to ability to be such a great character. The writing failed, hands down. But the other actors brought something more to their characters, made them feel more real and fleshed out despite the shoddy scripts. I don't feel the same with Marina. I genuinely would have preferred to kill off Troi and keep Tasha (had Denise wanted to stay, I get why she didn't) or to have Beverly or Ro in more often. Troi is one of the most useless characters I've ever seen in Trek. Which is sad cos Trek has quite a fee useless characters.

Agree with Odo comments as well-- it was a stroke of genius that they made Odo a shapeshifter who could be anything. Except he can't because he's bad at it. And it hurts him. Was it for budget reasons and to avoid plots becoming way too easy? Yes. But they did something with it that pushed his storyline forward and gave him conflict. And it gave him an inner trauma that he needed to fix-- to the point where he does things *very* against his own ideals and morals just to try to get answers about who he was, and where he came from. By making his talent his trauma, they invited that story, that discomfort of others around him, his own discomfort about himself and his people, that was just a brilliant way to deal with it.

They *eventually* did the same thing with Wesley-- his genius (which they could only show by making all the other qualified adults around him very stupid-- eventually became his trauma. Became the thing that hurt him and kept him distant from others. And it actually worked really well! It was sad they waited til s7 to give him those cracks and issues, but there were a few tiny fractures in earlier seasons do when it did happen, it made sense. It actually ended up being a fantastic story arc. The thing that made him special was also the thing that hurt him.

There were no consequences to Troi having 1000+ worth of people's emotions every day other than her getting a bit tired and needing some chocolate. Okay? And? We met another Betazoid who completely fell apart just being around one person, let alone a ship of people. And I cared more about Tam in that one single episode than i ever cared about Troi. Make it harder on her. Make it hurt her sometimes. Make her talent her achilles heel. They did it with Tam. Data. Odo. But they couldn't do it with her. So they just stuffed her in spandex and had her say 'and how does that make you feel?' For 7 years.

But DS9 was the only legacy Trek that wasn't desperately allergic to consequence. I wish DS9 had more consequence-- poor O'Brien should have had at least a couple mental breakdowns. But they did what they could with the formula at the time.

star trek characters will literally go through the most life changing traumatic multidimensional extrasensory eldritch hell torture imaginable and then they're fine and the next episode they gotta deal with a guy who is bald

[thedissonantverses]

This is always one of my favorite shots every run and I wanted to expound on why that is because it runs into a lot of critique I see. Not trying to be snarky for a change this is way Veilguard positive and sincere. Rook is my favorite protagonist out of every BioWare game.

People get really bogged down in why the gods just let Rook and the gang go at multiple points in the story. It confused me too in D’meta’s crossing. I was really itching for a Big Hero Moment at Weisshaupt like the Inqusitor gets at Haven. Instead I got one of my favorite missions in a Dragon Age game.

And when I got there I saw this. This is why the Evanuris don’t care about Rook unless they have the dagger. Because why would they? They destroyed the Grey Wardens, an army, like it was nothing. It didn’t take them long at all. They rolled over a fortress that stood for over a thousand years. They don’t see Rook and the Veilguard as a threat because at this point in time, they’re not. Even if the Inquisitor had shown up with all of their power and connections this still would have been the result.

It’s why Rook is the protagonist. Rook represents the people of Thedas as they are now, and at the beginning of the game Rook is a nobody. Solas only acknowledges their existence because he’s forced to when they drop a statue on his head, and even then he only sees them as a pawn against the other Evanuris. Varric knows this about Solas. Varric knows who they’re fighting. It’s why Varric picked Rook.

People are missing the very heart of Veilguard’s story by ignoring who and what Rook is and it’s crazy because they’re such a great protagonist. Rook looks at a fucking storm and keeps fighting anyways. That’s the kind of person I want to be. The kind that sees the end of the world crashing down on them and keeps going because it’s the right thing to do.

[tashibum]

To Own, But Not To Share (IV)

Part 1&2 Part 3

Emperor Geta x Female Reader

Chapter Summary: You and Geta admit your true feelings to each other

Chapter Warnings: SMUT, 18+, light choking, dirty talk, spooning sex, cumshot, slave to fiancee?? 4.1k words. Read on AO3

The L Word

His feelings for you were not fitting for an emperor. With his power, he should take things by force and have no mercy.

Yet, he found himself at a temple once a week, on his knees praying. The same god that gave him you, he prayed to Cupid that his arrow would strike your heart as well. Geta gave offerings of cows and sheep to please him. Anything the god wanted, he would supply him with.

Geta could just claim you as his. No one could say no to him, you would have no choice. You could be ordered to say the words “I love you” back to him when he said them. You could fake your happiness to him and the Roman people.

But Geta wanted the true feeling. Such a shame it’s the one thing he could not buy or force.

He granted you your own chambers within the palace. Privacy was something you had never had before. Your family home was small, and then becoming a slave meant you had even less. In your chambers you could shut the door and no one would disturb you. Geta made sure to let everyone know that he was the only person who could open the door without knocking.

In your room, Geta sent all your clothes and jewellery to be placed in your wardrobe and dressing table. All of these possessions were what he had given you, and you were aware he could take it all away from you if you displeased him. Slaves were not meant to own anything. They were meant to be owned.

Your prized possession was one of Geta’s robes. He had left it behind one night and instead of informing a maid, you hid it. When you slept alone, you would take it out from within your dresses and hold it as you slept. You told yourself not to develop feelings for him, you were simply his favourite at that given time. You were sure once more time passed, he would grow bored of you and want someone younger, skinnier and sexier.

When the emperors met with the senates, you spent your time replenishing Geta and Caracalla’s goblets with wine. Geta had made it clear that you would not be leaning your body over any of the senates, there were other slaves that could do that.

“Is she a woman or a witch?” Caracalla asked his brother from beside him, looking over at you at the edge of the room. Dundus sat on his shoulder and ate the occasional grape he held up for her.

Geta gave a confused look. “A woman. What would make you think she has sorcery?”

“She has bewitched you. She is a slave, yet you give her unfair privileges. Jewels that are ours, you give to her.”

Geta was pleased his brother got straight to the point. His issue with you was that you were being given things Caracalla thought to be his.

“Her role as a slave has changed,” Geta put bluntly. He had not informed you of any change, yet knew you must have known something was going on.

“To what? Chief of staff?” His brother huffed mockingly.

“She…….”, Geta paused, thinking of how to word his strong emotions.

“You like her, don’t you? More than you should.” Caracalla had stuck in the knife; now he was going to twist it. “You are her owner. You literally bought her, brother. She sees you as nothing more than that.”

Geta shook his head. While he did not know if your feelings matched his in intensity, he knew, at the very least, you liked him.

“You are an emperor. Weakness like this should have you de-throned,” provoked Caracalla.

���I will court her,” defended Geta, unsure of himself.

“Oh, she will become an Empress of Rome? That really is a promotion! Need I remind you that emperors do not marry plebeians. She is below you. And her cunt isn’t that impressive,” Caracalla remarked from the time he fucked you.

Geta’s hand immediately rose and slapped his brother hard across the face, causing Dundas to hide behind Caracalla’s head.

The room went silent, all eyes now facing the twin emperors. Geta stood up and walked out of the room, his footsteps the only sound anyone could hear. You wanted to follow him to make sure he was okay, but knew better of it. It would be above your station.

Caracalla looked at you from across the room and patted the now vacant space next to him. You could not defy him, so went over, still holding a jug of wine to show him you would not stay with him for long.

“You’ve been promoted,” he declared.

“To what?” You timidly asked, not knowing if the smaller brother was being serious or not.

“Geta’s personal sex aid.”

And with that, you knew he was not serious.

“I do not see the appeal,” he tried to spite. He was hurt because you rejected him and favoured his brother. He would have been happy to share you if you wanted, but that first day put a sour taste in his mouth. The way you moaned for his brother, but was so hesitant and frigid for him.

You did not care though, you did not see any appeal in him either.

“I’ve felt your hole - I’ve felt better. Unless I have not felt the hole he favours.”

He raised his eyebrow at you, as though he wanted something he had been missing out on. The raspiness of his voice added to his perverted suggestion.

The thought made you tense up. Geta had done nothing to your other hole. The closest he had ever gotten to it was when he had been licking you, and his mouth went too low by mistake.

You stared at the door, trying to avoid looking the emperor in the eye after making such a remark, hoping that Geta would come in and rescue you from further embarrassment.

“I’ve been told I have more girth than him,” he bragged.

Please Geta. Please. You silently begged, not even knowing if he had left the building not to return. You did not want to speak to Caracalla about his cock in his attempt to seduce you.

“At the right angle, it can make women gush their sweet juices.”

You wanted the ground to swallow you up. A spontaneous death seemed sweeter than hearing Caracalla speak of such things.

Then, finally, Geta returned to the room after cooling down, but got riled right back up again when he saw you with him.

“You better go,” Caracalla justified, knowing his brother's territorial nature over you.

You walked away from him and Geta caught your arm as you passed him. He tugged you out of the room with him again and lead you into an empty corridor.

“What did he say?” He demanded. This close to his face, you could see his cheeks redden. He was terrified that his brother had said something to you about his feelings for you. He knew his brother would love to embarrass him and tell you that he loved you.

“Nothing,” you dismissed.

"Tell me!” He challenged, rage overtaking him again.

"He told me I was your sex toy. Then told me the size of his disgusting length,” you explained.

Geta’s demeanour cooled instantly. “I was worried he had filled your head with lies.”

You took ahold of his jaw and leant up to give him a gentle, sweet kiss. You then leant your head on him. As your fingers stroked his cheek, his hand rested on top of yours against his face.

“Of course not. His words mean nothing to me,” you comforted.

Geta pushed you off him to hold your face in his hands. He had never felt like this about someone before. As he stared into your eyes, the feeling in his abdomen returned. It was where Cupid had shot him before. Cupid did not need to use another arrow on him, Geta needed him to change his target to you. Then the thought occurred in his mind that maybe he felt this sensation because Cupid had just shot you, and it was his way of informing Geta. How Geta wished the Gods spoke to him in words and not riddles!

“Give me the jug. You can go back home to the palace to relax,” he requested. The thought suddenly appeared that you were working, and it upset him. Geta was sure of it now, you were going to be future Empress of Rome, and women of such status did not work.

You did not question him on his motives, but just gave him a smile as you headed to the horse and carriage waiting outside.

“Where is she?” Caracalla asked as Geta rejoined him to discuss politics.

“I thought I would drink straight from the jug,” he dismissed, reeling from how Caracalla spoke to his soon-to-be wife.

The following night he told you he had plans with you. You asked for more information, but he smirked, wanting it to be a surprise. Whatever it was, it required maidens fully prepping you for it. You were washed, shaved and had makeup put on. The anticipation made you sick with anxiety.

You were grateful when he finally said you were not leaving the grounds of the palace, not in the mood for social diplomacy. He held your hand has he lead you around the palace and when the doors to the gardens opened, your jaw hit the floor.

Candles lit a path towards the centre of the lawn where more candles were laid out in a heart shape. Inside the heart was a blanket and pillows. You were speechless by his romantic gesture. Geta had ordered complete privacy, so no one saw him in this vulnerable state. Tonight was the night he was going to tell you he loved you, so wanted everything to be perfect. He had to tell you sooner rather than later in fear his brother would beat him to it.

He held your hand as you lowered yourself onto the blanket. You sat crosslegged until Geta pulled you to lay on your back next to him. You rested your heads on the pillows and stared up into the night sky. With it being late at night, you held onto his arm as a source of warmth.

“The Gods have been so gracious to me,” Geta reflected. You could not share his optimism. A life enslaved was not something you were thankful for. You guessed you could be thankful to Fortuna for being bought by Geta and not someone else who would have abused you.

“You have a blessed life, Emperor,” you agreed.

Geta sat up and turned to you. “More than that. Venus and Cupid work in tandem up there,” he explained and pointed to the sky. “I never thought love to be true, until I met you.”

Your eyes went wide with the meaning of his words. He was thankful to the love gods for you. It made your eyes well up with tears. Was this an admission of love?

“I accepted my fate that I would be married to a princess from another land, all to strengthen Rome’s alliances. After all, marriage and love are not connected. However, spending time with you, it has made me desire both,” he cooed.

“I’m sure your future bride will be very grateful,” you encouraged. He wanted a wife, and you knew it could never be you. He was destined to marry a princess or a duchess. Definitely not a woman who fell into the slave trade as a teenager. You saw a different side to the emperor than everyone else. While others saw him as selfish and cruel, you only saw gentle softness. His words were so delicate that it was hard to keep your emotional distance. Everything about him was magnetic to you, but you tried to not be sucked in. It would hurt to much when he inevitably moved on.

You didn’t understand him, so he said it nice and simple for you, “I love you.” He looked like he was about to cry.

Three words, just three words, but they were huge. Bigger than you could properly comprehend. If he loved you, it would mean everything in your life would change again. You would go from being a nobody, to being respected and feared by the empire.

This meant you could stop your refrain. You could put down your walls and accept the feelings you repressed.

It had been silent for a few moments, and Geta got nervous that you would reject him. But you needed time to collate your words.

“I feel myself……..falling for you more everyday.”

It wasn’t those magical three words that Geta dreamt of you saying, but it was confirmation that it would come.

“Well, when you feel it, don’t hesitate to tell me,” he urged, and laid back down next to you. He wrapped his arms around you and hugged you against him.

“I’m sorry we met in such circumstances,” he whispered, oozing genuine sorrow. “You never deserved to be enslaved, by anyone.”

“I’m one of the lucky ones, but thousands of people out there still suffer. You must know what your subjects live through,” you commiserated. You thought back on all the conversations you’d had with the emperor, and couldn’t think of a discussion on Roman life. You knew everyone in Rome hated the Emperors, you’d hear your owners talk about it. They had little food, which meant you had even less.

“Of course there are people envious of the power and belongings I have,” he dismissed. You couldn’t tell if he was avoiding your criticism or genuinely did not know how tough life was for a Roman.

“If you want the public’s perception of you to be positive, maybe you could hand out food. Or end the public executions,” you suggested warily. No one was allowed to critique the emperors, it could end in your own public execution.

“Not even my wife yet and you’re bossing me around,” he joked, completely dismissing your serious proposal.

You didn’t know why you even bothered - even if you convinced him, Caracalla would never budge. So, you tried to push away the thoughts of how much everyone hated the man you desired.

“I would not be a virgin bride,” you argued.

“You will be a born again virgin on our wedding night,” he said, as though he had already thought over every detail of your wedding.

“Shall we abstain until then?” You questioned suggestively.

“Absolutely not. The gods do not wish that from us,” responded Geta.

You moved even closer to him in his arms. He was not hard under his toga, it helped you believe that he wanted you for you, and not just your body. He was content laying out here stargazing with you, he did not need to have sex with you to enjoy your company.

He walked you back inside with his arm wrapped around your hips.

“Do you want to stay in my chambers tonight, or yours?” He asked.

“Mine,” you answered, needing time alone to process everything that happened in the gardens.

“As you wish,” he replied and walked you to your door. Once at the doorframe, he took your hand in his, brought it to his mouth and kissed it. This gesture was what his subjects did to the emperors, never the other way around

“I will see you at breakfast, my amor,” he gushed before walking to his own guarded chambers.

You walked into your room and shut the door. After a second, you picked up one of your feather filled pillows and squealed into it as you jumped up and down with glee.

He loves me!

The Emperor of the empire loved you and wanted you to be his wife. It was anything beyond your wildest dreams. You thought of your family, how you became a slave to give them money, and now you would marry the richest man in the world. You wished you could tell them, but you didn’t even know if they were still alive. It had been years without contact.

You stripped down for bed, and decided tonight you would wear his robe. You laid on your mattress and let your hands caress the fine fabric of the robe as it covered you. Geta was the only thing on your mind. You pictured what your life could look like with him. He would take you to all his official meetings, you would meet all his generals and senators. You would be protected by the praetorian guards. You would give him heirs.

You held your lower stomach as you imagined cute little boys running around, calling you mama with their big, brown eyes looking up at you. They would have matching togas and armour with their father. You tried to picture Caracalla with his nephews, knowing his childlike nature would mesh well with theirs.

The image of your future family was so vivid in your mind, it was as though the gods gave you a vision.

The intense vision made you start to cry. You suddenly felt very empty. You wanted Geta to get you pregnant so you wouldn’t feel empty anymore.

You got up from bed and splashed your face with water the maids had left for you. You knew you were being ridiculous. He had only admitted his love for you an hour ago and you were already losing your sanity with daydreams of children that did not exist.

You took a cloth and began to wipe off the streaky makeup from your face. Geta was so soft, you could picture him doing this for you, gently rubbing the fabric over your face until you were clean. Everyone else could have their opinion of him, but you knew his heart. You knew he had a need to be adored and cared for, but he was so afraid of losing the throne, he only showed maniacal ruthlessness.

You knew that he made your heart beat go fast, and he filled your days with happiness. You knew that no one else could ever sweep you off your feet like he did, and there would be no one else for you except him.

Did you love him?

I think I love him.

You had the urge to run and tell him. He had to be told immediately. You cursed yourself for not saying it back to him during your date, but you didn’t want to look desperate. Plus, you weren’t sure. But now you one hundred percent knew.

You knew better than running in the corridors of the palace; you knew the guards would likely think you were going to ambush the emperors. Your bare feet slapped on the stone floors as you hurried your way past sculptures and paintings of past emperors and the gods. You finally reached the guards protecting Rome’s rulers, and were so eager to speak that you spoke far too fast and unclear for them to understand you.

“The emperors are not to be disturbed,” you were told, completely dismissed.

“Please, just ask Emperor Geta if I can enter his chambers. Tell him it’s an emergency. He’ll know it’s me,” you requested.

He huffed and trotted along to his leader, leaving you with several guards staring at you wearing a just robe that was clearly not yours.

When he came back, he didn’t even bother to speak to you, just moved to the side of the corridor to let you pass. When you reached his chambers, the door was already open and Geta was out of bed, pacing around the room in a robe. His hand was up to his mouth, biting his skin and nails in anxiety. He turned to see you when he heard you shut the door behind yourself. His worry for you turned into confusion when he saw his robe gracing your body.

“What-?” He asked, wanting to know how you got his clothes, but you cut him off.

“I love you,” you blurted.

His concerned face turned stunned, he did not believe his ears.

“What was that?” He urged.

You closed the distance between him so you could look into his big, brown, worried eyes as you said it again. “I love you.”

His breath stuttered in shock and he picked you up as though you weighed nothing. His hands carried you under your thighs and you wrapped your legs and arms around him like a koala. He pressed his plush lips against yours and kissed you, never wanting it to end. No one ever told him they loved him. Even as a youth, after his mother passed away, his father offered nothing but brutality. He never had any familial or romantic love, and now he had it, he would never let you leave him.

“Say it again,” he commanded.

You found it cute the way he wanted you to repeat those three words.

You moved your hands to hold his face, letting his fresh stubble scratch your fingertips. “I love you.”

“Again,” he whispered.

“I love you, Geta,” you said, staring into his eyes. Your fingers pushed back his wavy hair, so smooth without the sharp, pointy laurels in it.

He carried you to the bed and unceremoniously dropped you onto it. Your robe was loose and showed off your naked body. You thought perhaps Geta would take this moment to be intimate with you, but he took off his robe and simply laid against you.

“I want to wake up with my wife-to-be in my arms. Wedding preparations will begin in the morning,” he claimed.

You were a tad disappointed that Geta fell asleep without having sex with you, but took solace that you had the rest of your lives with each other, so had plenty of time to make up for it.

You didn’t know how long it had been when you woke up to Geta’s hand on your hip. You laid on your side with your back to him and assumed he was asleep, until you felt him sit up. He moved the robe you wore so your bottom was completely revealed to him.

You turned your head to face him and as you did, his fingers slid in between your folds.

“What filled your dreams, love? So wet already. I could slide my cock in here without needing to do anything first,” he teased.

He pushed his middle finger inside you and you nodded to him before letting your head turn back around to look at the wall. Having one of his fingers inside you felt better than one of your own. There was just something about it. Then you felt him add another finger, making you stretch to fit around him.

When he pulled his fingers out, he reached around to put them in your mouth. You eagerly licked and sucked your own juices off his hand. In doing so, you took his fingers as far as you could into your mouth, to tease what you could do if he so wished.

His hand went to his cock and the other held your hip again. He shuffled closer to you so your ass touched his hips and he slapped his hefty cock against your wet sex a couple of time before pushing the blunt head inside you. You bit your lip against your pillow as your body easily accommodated him

“The way you take me, it’s unlike anything else,” he purred from behind you.

Like this, he could push his entire length inside you and your body had no choice but to take it.

“This is where you belong,” you moaned, feeling blissed out.

One of his hands snaked under your neck and went to hold your breast. He alternated between squeezing and fondling to pinching your nipple - not hard enough to cause pain, but enough to show his want. Your hand reached behind you to feel his balls. They were sticky from where they kept slapping against your wetness.

“They’re so full,” you commented, causing him to grunt. “You have to empty them for me, okay love?”

Geta nodded against your hair, then moved his hand to the front of your neck to lightly choke you. You loved it - loved how the pressure on your throat and the pressure on your cunt was caused by him.

“I’m your girl. Tell me I’m yours,” you begged, wanting him to claim you.

Geta was working so hard on fucking you, only a weak “mine” left his lips from behind his head. To you, that wasn’t good enough.

“Say you own me,” you requested, but a mere grunt came out of his mouth. He was the emperor of Rome, he was as powerful as the gods, you had seen him yell plenty of times before, yet he struggled to vocalise his power in this moment.

“Say you own me!” You yelled, probably loud enough for the guards and Caracalla down the hall to hear.

“I own you. Pussy’s mine,” he rasped out.

He took both of his hands and used them to move your hips in rhythm with his thrusts. Soon, he pulled out of you and let his seed land on your ass cheeks. When the warmth hitting your body stopped, you turned over to lay on your back, not caring that his spend was now being rubbed into his robe and bed sheets.

“Did you…….peak?” Asked Geta, still trying to get his breath back.

You shook your head. It didn’t matter to you. You had made him cum, and pleasuring the emperor would forever be your priority.

“Next time, you tell me,” he objected and moved his way down the bed. You didn’t understand what he was doing, until he spread your legs. He didn’t give you any explanation or warning, he just went straight in and lapped at your folds. His two fingers entered you again, fucking you just how he knew you liked. Emperor Geta may have been a selfish leader, but he was not a selfish lover. He always wanted you to take pleasure from him, and tell him how much you enjoyed it.

His mouth concentrated on your clit as his fingers worked their magic inside you. As you reached your orgasm, you felt bad for forcing him to talk earlier. You could not judge him for not being able to speak when you could only muster out a quiet “cumming” as you exploded on his fingers.

“No one in Rome will know how sweet their Empress tastes,” he said from between your legs, licking clean your inner thighs before sucking his fingers. You smiled up at him to show you appreciated the compliment.

“There’s so much to get done,” he started. He stood up from the bed and put on a robe to wear before the maidens would come in to dress him. He sat next to you at the side of the bed and held your hand as he listed everything he wanted.

“I want new armour made for the day. You’ll need to be fitted for your dress. Flower arrangements will need to be made. I want games in the colosseum to celebrate. I want a feast. I want as many people to be there as possible.”

Geta went on and on about how he wanted the marriage ceremony and celebrations afterwards to be perfect. The only thing you wanted was for your family to be there, but knew it would be very unlikely.

@your-nightmaredoll @1950schick @justasmallbean

[kaislashes]

Well I’m deprived and seeing these old gay men made me come out of writing retirement.

Enjoy 18+

Inho is laying under the bunks, trying to get as much sleep in as possible but is awoken by a laugh, wait no there's two people laughing. He's curious at who would be awake other than Gihun who volunteered to keep watch. He finds himself shifting slightly to get a view and he sees Jung Bae sitting rather closely to Gihun, both with big smiles on their faces as they reminiscent about their pasts together. Inho knows he shouldn't care, should just look away but he can't, a nasty feeling gnarling away at his chest. He'd be lying to himself if he said that he wasn't jealous and he can't help but be upset for even allowing that emotion to overcome him.

When he first saw Gihun those 2 years prior at the games he was nothing special, just another player until the games progressed and he proved to be different. The way Gihun held himself, the dedication, commitment to helping others even when his own life was at stake, he was truly human but instead of wanting to reward it he wanted to tear the man down. Finding out that Gihun had spent so much time and money to find him made his heart skip a beat, he was sick for wanting Gihun to find him, for letting him find him but he could careless. He remembers the way he held his breath when Gihun entered the car before the start of the new game, how eager and determined he was to go back in not knowing that he was entering THEIR new game. Inho was already one step ahead and Gihun already lost.

He laid there silently waiting for the telltale sign of Jung Bae getting up and heading to his bunk before soft snores are heard. Inho slides himself out from under the bunk and walks silently up to Gihun and puts a hand on his shoulder a little more firmly than necessary making the man jump slightly before smiling up at him. "I'm going to take watch, you should get some sleep." Inho says quietly and all the other man can do is nod before standing up and making his way back to his own top bunk where he settles in quietly. Inho can't help but get lost in his thoughts while keeping watch, still simmering on the jealousy from the two friends fondness of each other, he tries to distract himself from it but can't help when he finally boils over.

-

Gihun lays in his bunk, the room oddly quiet besides a few snores as he finds himself drifting to sleep until he hears someone climbing to ladder to his bed. He sits up ready to strike until he sees who it is, Inho staring at him, faces merely inches apart before he chuckles at him. "You scared me, what're you doing up here?" But Inho doesn't reply, doesn't even so much as smile. The man continues to fully pull himself onto Gihuns bed before shoving his back down onto the bed forcefully and stares down at Gihun who just looks back up dumbfounded. "Inho, what's wrong? Did something happen?" He's looking up at him frantically, a cold chill going down his spine at the emotionless look he's still getting back. He goes to sit up and shove Inho off of him but is met with two hands grabbing both his wrists and pinning them to the bed and his body straddling him fully so he's unable to move. "Did I do someth-" He's cut off when a soft pair of lips roughly slam into his own, he's stunned and doesn't reciprocate at first but soon gives in.

After what feels like a decade Inho pulls away but doesn't move to far, he stares down at him again and takes one of his hands away only to rub it down Gihun cheek in a almost sickly sweet manner but roughly grabbing ahold of his throat, tight enough to cause some panic but loose enough for him to breathe shallowly. "Youre so beautiful like this, so pliant, letting me use you like some whore." I know I should be angry at the words but all they do is send heat straight into Gihuns cock and he finds himself trying to grind into Inho. "Oh, you like that? Fucking slut, are you desperate for every mans cock or just mine?" He lets go of Gihuns throat so he can answer properly. "Just you, only you please help me." He still continues to try to grind into the man on top of him til he's met with a slap across the face, the feeling making him stop completely. "Then why are you strutting yourself around to Jung Bae, huh? Think I wouldn't notice that shit. Should put you in your place."

Gihun looks utterly perplexed, "No, he's just my friend. Promise it's just you please, need you so bad, don't stop." He all but whined. Inho feels his chest swell with pride but shuts it down quickly to focus on pleasuring both himself and the man underneath him. He allows himself to grind his own hardness and the erection that his been pressing into him the whole time and he cant help but groan. "Gonna make you mine forever, you're mine, always gonna be mine." He says possessively but leaning down and lightly biting Gihuns neck before fully baring his teeth into him. He cries out at the feeling knowing skin was definitely broken. He continues thrusting up until he feels himself getting close, "gonna cum, please let me cum" he says pathetically. Inho takes pity on him, also feeling himself approaching his end, he slams his lips against Gihuns roughly, sliding his hand down to pull the mans sweatpants down and his own to let theirs cock rub together. After a few more rushed thrusts Gihun moans lowly as he starts to cum, the feeling of him pulsing against Inho and the warm sensation sends the other man over, he grunts.

Inho rolls onto his back, both mens breathing slowing down and they both just stare at each other. He knew this changed everything now, knew he wasnt ever going to let Gihun leave him ever again.

[in-finitives]

originally wrote a bunch of other hcs down in tags because that's where i live but then i realized only 30 or so get put on post and then they delete so here's my addendums to save for myself

piper n reyna's relationship:

reyna's story is one of accepting expectation and living up to it.

piper's story is one of denying expectation and contradicting it, because she doesn't like what comes with it / people not liking her because she's something other than piper (i.e. people r friends w her because she's her father's daughter, her father's money, her mother's beauty, etc). piper is sick of other people controlling her life, deciding what she does and doesn't get, and feeling like she hasn't earned anything

piper is originally weird about the relationship for obvious coming into sexuality reasons + it feels like another expectation. another thing her mother gave to her, another thing built on other people's expectation

reyna is against the relationship because it goes against her duty. like she mentions sometime in SoN, praetors get in relationships with each other because it's good for rome or whatever. can you imagine if she was dating a greek?? that would feel like a complication to her duty

AND

piper's read enough myths to know about pretty women who betray their families for the hero. she is NOT going to be one of them, feeding into her whole traitor-dad arc

but as their arcs grow in anti-parallel, they both come to admire each other

piper admires how reyna is so independent, so strong, and so sure of herself. reyna admires how piper doesn't concede into what other people want.

reyna starts finding an identity outside of CJ and outside of her duty & symbolically, being in a relationship with piper signifies doing something for herself rather than doing something for rome

piper realizes that by automatically going against expectation is still allowing it to control her and she should instead listen to her own feelings

lowk should've been what rr did with jason/piper in the first place if he wanted it to stick but oh well

back in cj

WE NEED TO TALK ABOUT HOW JASON LOOKS LIKE LUKE AND WHAT THAT DOES TO ANNABETH!!!

but first some other points

op and others had good points about annabeth that were tragically heartbreaking so i'm going to switch focus to jason

can you fuckin imagine jason at this time

percy refuses to help hera and is literally taking the gods by the throat, but jason probably doubles down and is trying to appease the gods

he thinks this is retribution. he thinks they've messed up

he thinks if he is a good hero, reyna can come back

and then 6 months later annabeth shows up

guys. Guys

jason looks exactly like luke. blonde general with a scar on his lip ?!

annabeth looks at him like she's seen a ghost

she's thinking of a traitor brother, a brother who was too good to be true, who was kind and friendly to all the outsiders, who was the leader of camp, who betrayed her

and she sees jason ... who is exactly all that

and in canon we always get her saying jason is 'too perfect' and unnerving to her

BECAUSE HE REMINDS HER OF LUKE!

and can you imagine if she hears his last name and goes oh. Oh

can you imagine jason finding out she knew his sister

the sister who (he thinks) abandoned him

the sister who has grown a new sister

a new family, with a boy who looks exactly like him

he's been replaced. he's been replaced, and this girl has never been abandoned by his sister like he was

and annabeth is standing there, now perfectly aware that she has replaced this kid in a family that wasn't supposed to be her's, but was, in a family that loved her and cared for her, and she sees the kid who has nothing, not even a best friend

CAN YOU FUCKING IMAGINE

annabeth probably originally distrusts him when she doesn't exactly remember the whole luke/thalia thing, jason is probably jumping to get on the quest because if he can please the gods he can get reyna back

also [later] jason finding out that percy and annabeth has done more for demigods by being rebellious little freaks than he has his whole life despite being the perfect hero

can you imagine what that does to him

'oh you got demigod children claimed and recognized by sitting on the gods throne and sassing them ... you were offered immortality, and i wasn't?'

even though he was the perfect hero

even though he did everything they ever asked

AND THEN

then he meets reyna again and the one person who shared his identity, the one person who shared his duty, has. ... escaped?

can he escape too?

but he's son of jupiter, he's never been more than that, how could he possibly escape?

then he finds out reyna has now met his sister ... and it feels like everyone he knows has met her except him

why wasn't it him? if he was son of jupiter, perfect hero, why wasn't he in chb? why leave him where he is useless, was he not good enough the first time?

we see reyna escape at the end. reyna realize she is more than a hero, realize reyna has learned she's not just the gods' chess piece. we also see her go through the same arc percy did in pjo if she's not at the final battle → sometimes being the hero is not about stepping up, but learning when to step down. she may not have been at the battle, but she empowered others to have won it (also works nice thematically w her powers)

reyna escapes. jason never does. he stays at cj, too scared to find out who he is. when leo (allegedly) dies, jason is thinking, it should've been me. he's the hero. so he stays at cj. he stays because what if what he finds is something he doesn't like, what if who he is, is not who he is supposed to be?

makes toa all the sadder

anyways yeah that's my 2 cents

Thinking about a concept where Juno swaps Annabeth and Reyna instead.

Annabeth and Reyna are fine, because they’ve always been able to handle just about anything the gods threw at them. Piper accidentally has her gay awakening via fake memories of a relationship with Reyna and is really confused why her girlfriend is acting so weird. Reyna and Leo bicker non-stop because even without her memories Reyna knows what she’s doing and she’s very used to getting people to listen to her but Leo will not be serious for even one second.

Percy would start fist fighting the gods in the first week. Jason has never been more stressed in his life because he never even wanted to be praetor but it was manageable while he was doing it with Reyna and now he’s alone. What the hell is he supposed to do.

By the time Annabeth shows up at Camp Jupiter, Jason is so relieved someone knows what they’re doing that he immediately asks her to be praetor, now if she’ll excuse him he needs to go have an anxiety meltdown in a corner somewhere

[freckledjoes]

For the FRECKLEDJOES' JOLLY REQUEST CORNER, could you maybe do some drabble of Steve finding Eddie in the Upside Down, who is alive and more than a little confused as to why and how that happened. Last thing Eddie remembered was dying, bleeding to death. Now here he is, panicking in front of Steve Harrington, of all people.

Hi there! Thank you for the request :) It was quite an idea to put into a little drabble so I fear it may feel a little rushed for a big topic like this, but I hope you'll like it either way! <3 I didn't go into detail about the how's and why's too much and focused on their dynamic instead. Sorry if that makes it a bit vague here and there!

Time and time again

His ears were ringing. It was maddening how loud, really. The world around him was black and his eyelids felt heavier than ever. He could feel a sore pain around his wrists, which… didn’t make sense. Right? He died, fighting those goddamn bats. He was alone— or wait, no, Dustin? Dustin was there too… right? He tried to move around but the cuffs didn’t budge. It seemed like he was hugging some type of pole that was stuck in the ground. A small voice in the back of his head told him that it made no sense that his sides weren’t hurting, but the next moment he wasn’t sure why. Everything made sense and yet nothing didn’t. He groaned as he tried to move around again, kicking his feet to feel out his surroundings. Nothing. Except the grass licking into the small gap between his jeans and his boots.

“Fuck,” Eddie groaned. The heaviness finally lifted from his eyes enough to blearily open them and take in his surroundings. Still as dark and dull as ever. Great. But…

He was alive.

And alone. Where the hell were the others? Vecna didn’t seem the type to deal with handcuffs, with all those vines on hand. But whoever did, for some reason, they only captured him. Which… he had zero collection of. What the fuck was going on? His vision slowly got up to speed with the darkness, his surroundings becoming more distinguishable by the minute now. A creak on his left made him shift suddenly as he cautiously turned his head to the sound.

A swing.

Looking further, he realized he was stuck on a playground. He vaguely recognized it, wouldn’t know the street it was on but would know how to walk there from his home. His home… which suffered destruction thanks to— right, yes, Vecna.

“Hello?” Eddie called out, getting impatient now that he’d spent almost ten minutes (his patience wasn’t all that admirable) of waiting and kicking around. He sighed loudly and tried to remember if he had anything useful on him, if it hadn’t been taken by his captor. Looking down, he noticed the shimmer of a silver bobby pin he had secured to the pocket of his jeans. Hell yeah. With that, he could get the cuffs off in no-time. If… he could reach it, that was.

With some effort, he pushed himself off with his feet, trying to make a bridge without his arms to get his hips close enough that he could reach it with his fingers. The only sound in the Upside Down seemed to be his grunts, cries and frustrated cursing for some time. Until—

“Oh thank— Eddie— let me help you with that.”

Eddie whipped his head around so fast that he in fact hit it right against the pole, and a million more curse words left his lips. Steve, Steve Harrington, crouched down next to him, key in hand.

“Sorry about all this, it’s just that last time you uh— never mind. I’m so… I’m glad you’re okay,” Steve said softly, without looking at him at all. He released the handcuffs and Eddie took his sweet time rubbing his wrists and stretching his limbs as soon as he was able to get up.

“I’m not following,” Eddie said honestly. “One moment I was— I was with you, and the others, and then I was fighting bats— but—”

He quickly reached for his sides now, lifting up his shirt.

“Nothing,” he whispered to himself. Steve nodded, his gaze lingering on Eddie’s hips.

“And now you are here, and I don’t remember fucking anything, everything is like, jumbled up in my mind. Nothing makes fucking sense, I don’t know what’s— what’s real and what’s not. I thought I was dead, man. No, I was dead. I know I was, I just… Fuck!”

“Eds— Eddie,” Steve said calmly, his hand reaching for his waist before he put it on his shoulder instead. “I’ll explain everything once we get out of here, okay? The others don’t know anything about this. I couldn’t tell them because Dustin, he…” Steve’s voice wavered and he shook his head. “Let’s go home, alright?”

Eddie nodded numbly, still confused about it all. Unsure why Steve Harrington was saving the day right now. How he was alive, how he had died yet never fought the bats, everything was just… a mess.

“The others? Are they okay?”

Steve nodded slowly.

“They will be.”

Eddie had no idea what that meant, but judging from the tired look on Steve’s face, it was best not to ask right now. They walked back to Eddie’s trailer together in silence, with Steve stealing glances at him every five seconds or so. Eddie didn’t really get it, but he wasn’t going to complain. He even stole a few glances back.

It was night in the Downside Up, which is what Eddie decided to call their ‘real world’ now. Steve took him to his place, handed him some Mountain Dew that he apparently kept in the fridge and sat him down on the couch.

“So…” Eddie started, hesitant. Steve had been fiddling with the pull tab of his can of coke. When Steve didn’t look up, Eddie cleared his throat.

“Uhm, right,” Steve said, avoiding Eddie’s intense gaze. “So… the thing is…”

Eddie waited, impatiently, and when Steve shut down again he groaned.

“Come on, Harrington! Spit it out already.”

Steve winced, the corners of his mouth dropped a little and Eddie’s gaze softened.

“Sorry, I just… not knowing what’s going on is kinda scary, man.”

���It’s so weird when you call me Harrington, now,” Steve said softly, a sad smile on his face. “Not that you can help it, you haven’t been… anyway. So, as I was saying,” Steve started again, now finally looking up at Eddie, “you’re right. You were dead. Or at least, at some point, there was a you that was.”

“You’re breaking my brain here.”

“The bats, Dustin being with you, all that happened. But then I went back in time. And it happened again. So I went back in time again and I tried to change things, over and over. But you died every time. And if it wasn’t you, it was Dustin who died. Or Robin, or Nancy. I’ve been— for five years, I’ve been doing this… thing. And I finally cracked it, I think. I mean, everyone’s safely at home, Max is still in the hospital but she did recover from it all previously too so I… she should- she has to be okay this time too. And you’re… here. So.”

Eddie stared at him blankly as Steve tried to blink away tears and duck his head to wipe them away. He was trembling now, the pull tab had been torn off long ago and was now swimming inside the can.

“You, went back in time, for me? How does that even work? What- Why? Why you? Me?”

“Because… I had to.”

“We barely know each other.”

Steve let out a humorless laugh.

“Yeah. Well. That’s a complicated statement.”

“What do you mean?”

Steve shook his head and got up from the couch to throw his coke away and grab a glass of water instead. Another beverage he wasn’t drinking from.

“I can’t, I can’t say it.”

Eddie got up as well.

“Steve. You’re holding back. What is it?”

He stood right in front of Steve now. Steve Harrington, the golden boy from Hawkins, now stood miserable, disheveled, tears welling up in his eyes.

“Eds I can’t,” he spoke in a whisper, “I’m scared that it’ll mess things up.”

“You said five years… what happened in those five years? Did you just, go back and forth, relive the same day? Over and over?”

Steve shook his head.

“There were times where, for some reason, I couldn’t go back. Not right away. One time you… survived, and, Robin didn’t. And it didn’t let me go back. Eventually, I told you about it. I had never told anyone about it, but I told you. And you tried to help me even though it might mean that you wouldn’t make it and eventually one day, suddenly I was back again, and I have no idea what triggered it, but then, you did die and I couldn’t accept it, because…”

“Because what, Steve?”

Eddie hesitantly took the glass of water from him so he could take his hands in his own and rub soothing circles over the backs of Steve’s hands. When he did, short fragments of Steve flashed in front of his eyes. Not any that he had known… not really, anyway. Waking up next to Steve, talking late into the night, kissing Steve, looking down as Steve got on his knees—

“Steve. Did we— Are we…?”

Steve looked up, shocked, his lashes darker than usual with the weight of his tears hanging on them. He waited for Eddie to continue, a sliver of hope painting those hazel eyes just a little brighter.

“I’m… when I grabbed your hands I, uh, saw things. You, mostly. But I would know if I’d ever gotten a bl— if we were ever, uhm, a thing. ‘S not exactly easy to forget, so…”

“I guess it’s like the uhm, the memories of the demobats,” Steve provided softly.

“Out of those five years…?”

“We were dating for three,” Steve confessed.

“Three?! Fuck.”

“Yeah. And then I went back again. Out of nowhere.”

“That must’ve… sucked,” Eddie provided unhelpfully. Steve nodded weakly.

“You could say that.”

“Is that why you reacted so weird at my speech about Nancy and kept staring at my lips?” Eddie asked bluntly, gaining a surprised chuckle out of Steve.

“That moment was always the most difficult. You just, you got so close, and even though you were rambling nonsense I loved hearing your voice and I just… honestly I don’t even have a clue what you really said,” Steve admitted, a soft smile on his face.

“So what now?” Eddie asked, “I’m like, a bit lost at why I’m not freaking out more but I guess what’s one more freakshow after everything else that happened, right? And to hear that we… I mean, you should know that we should start from the very beginning. Those fragments are not enough. I need the full Harrington experience. Which— You don’t like it when I call you Harrington, do you, Stevie?” Eddie asked with a teasing smile.

Steve’s cheeks turned a little pink as he shook his head.

“I don’t mind it, it just feels weird every time. You barely called me that, when we uh, dated,” Steve explained. Eddie looked at him and released his hands in favor of wrapping Steve into a warm hug.

“Suddenly felt like you needed that,” Eddie mumbled into his hair as Steve wrapped his arms tightly around him. “And I guess… so do I.”

“I missed you,” Steve whispered, “so much.”

Eddie’s heart hurt for him. He could only imagine how hard these past five years had been for him and he couldn’t believe his luck that he had someone like Steve to care for him. It all felt too surreal to take in at such a short amount of time, yet it felt like the most natural thing in the world. Like they, Steve and Eddie, just made sense.

“We’ll take it one day at a time, alright? I’m not going anywhere this time. I promise.”

“Even if you do, I’ll come find you again. No matter how many times it takes.”

“Good. One request though.”

“Hmm?” Steve asked, as he gently rubbed his nose against Eddie’s neck. He should probably resist, but after all this time it was just too easy to fall back into old habits.

“If next time happens, please don’t cuff me like that, my back got twisted all the wrong ways and—”

“Thought you liked that.”

“W-What?”

Steve smiled against his neck.

“Sorry, never mind. Too soon.”

Eddie shook his head, leaning back so that Steve would have to look at him.

“No, not too soon. Tell me now,” Eddie demanded.

Steve shook his head.

“Later, maybe. Right now, I want…”

This was it. The moment of teenage Eddie’s (and honestly today Eddie’s) dreams. Steve, beautiful Steve, closed his eyes way before he found Eddie’s lips, like he had done it time and time again.

He had. And he would.

Time and time again.

[synthapostate]

@lastdaysofwar, Day 2 - Mistakes/Language/Apologies (Newt/Hermann, Lars Gottlieb)

Note: Fair warning, I took “language” to mean the F word.

It’s lunch time, and Newt couldn’t be happier. Not so much because of the meal, though, which bears a vague resemblance to garlic noodles as interpreted by an alien that once had the concept of flavor described to it by an anthropologist. Which is to say, they’re still working through the rations that came out of some army supply warehouse years ago. But that’s okay. Because he’s having lunch with Hermann.

Okay, so there’s nothing new and different about that. They’ve been eating together every day for years and years. They’re not even having a wildly different conversation today. Hermann is holding forth on the incompetence of some people, who can’t even be bothered to get a name right on a simple shipping label, and the Shatterdome’s own mailroom staff, who should have been able to work out on their own that “Dr. M. Gibraltar, K-Science” must be intended for one of the two of them—after all, there are only two left to choose from!—instead of letting it sit unclaimed in the warehouse for over a week.

“What if it had been something perishable?” Hermann insists, further incensed by the giant grin Newt can’t wipe off his face.

“It wasn’t. It’s fine.”

“It might have been! They didn’t know it wasn’t!”

“Yeah…” Another time, even just a couple of weeks ago, Newt would have been all over the guy, reminding him of every mistake he’s ever made. Where does Mr. Dr. Perfect here get off taking out his frustrations on whatever minimum wage warehouse worker couldn’t spell—whichever name Hermann tried to give them?

But there is one thing different these days. Now they’re dating! Instead of being mad at Newt all the time, Hermann is pissed off on his behalf, because he’s mad the mailroom screwup made him late giving Newt a birthday present, which is just, like. Nice. Newt wasn’t even expecting a present, but Hermann got him one because he like cares and stuff, it’s really sweet. Also, Herms is hot as hell when he gets all worked up like this. Also-also, Newt is just absolutely, hopelessly, disgustingly in love with him.

“Fuck those guys anyway,” Newt says, with an even bigger, dreamer smile. Hermann’s shoulders go stiff.

“Really, Newton, must you be so vulgar?”

“Yeah, babe, it’s what I do. Maybe you should act your age for once. Use it as punctuation like a normal millennial.”

“I’m normal!” Hermann stabs a fork into his noodles, lips petulantly pursed. He is so not normal, but Newt loves that about him, too.

“You can’t even say ‘fuck,’” Newt teases. “I don’t know how you can do it if you don’t even know how to say it.”

“I can say—” Hermann takes note of the volume of his voice, and the crowded setting of the mess hall. He shoots Newt a dirty look and says, more calmly, “I know how to swear, of course, I just don’t use that sort of language without good reason. It’s unprofessional.”

“But it would be hot,” Newt says innocently, batting his eyelashes. Hermann’s cheeks instantly take on a hint of pink.

“A-ah,” he stammers. “Would it?”

“Yeah, man. If you said ‘fuck’ right here and now for everyone to hear? I don’t know what I’d do. Probably couldn’t contain myself. I’d have to start tearing all my clothes off, right here in the mess hall.”

“Newton,” Hermann protests. “That—that is—” He lowers his voice to barely more than a whisper. “That is fucking uncouth.”

“Fuck, yeah!” Newt loosens his tie, which was already pretty loose to begin with, and tosses it aside. For saying it so quietly, that’s all he gets.

“You are a fucking nightmare,” Hermann says, a little louder.

“Ooh!” With an exaggerated shiver, Newt pops the top button on his shirt. Hermann leans toward him across the table, less nervous now, even though the blush has spread all the way to his ears.

“I would like to take you back to my room and fuck you until you can’t walk straight.”

“Guh—n-not—that’s not punctuation,” Newt chokes out, fumbling with the rest of his buttons. It’s actually like. Really warm in here all of a sudden.

“To hell with punctuation,” Hermann says. “I’ll swear however I fucking like.”

“You are so fucking sexy.” Newt wriggles out of his shirt and drops it on the floor behind him. Down to his undershirt, he sets his elbows on the table and waits for Hermann’s next move.

“You have all the maturity of a juvenile fucking delinquent,” Hermann says, struggling now not to smile.

“Yeah, and you fucking love it!”

“I sure fucking do.” Hermann is practically yelling now, loud enough for everyone to hear, and Newt is going to have to actually take his pants off, or else throw his boyfriend over his shoulder and carry him off to bed. They may be just playing around here, but at the same time, fuck it’s hot when Hermann lets loose.

“Fuck, Herms,” Newt groans.

“Fuck, Newton,” Hermann agrees.

“Fuck.”

“Fuck!”

“Fuck!”

“Fuck!”

“Doctors,” someone says sharply from just behind Newt. The hint of a smile slides right off Hermann’s face.

“F-father,” he stammers, looking guilty as a kid caught sneaking out after curfew. Newt turns, silently begging for this not to be happening, but sure enough, Old Man Gottlieb is staring down at them, as stern as Hermann’s ever been, but in a way that’s deeply, deeply unsexy.

“You call your son Doctor?” Newt says without conscious decision. He turns back to Hermann. “When I say that about my mom, it’s a joke.”

“What are you doing here?” Hermann asks, ignoring Newt completely.

“I wanted to speak with you. I must admit, I never expected to hear my own son using such language in a public place.”

“Ah.” Hermann looks like he’s about to throw up. Newt reaches across the table to take his hand, which, for just one second, makes him look a hundred times worse. Then he looks at their entwined hands, squares his shoulders, and scowls up at Dr. Gottlieb with such withering disdain, it’s amazing the old guy doesn’t spontaneously combust. “I never expected to see my own father throwing his support behind such an asinine project as the Wall of Life, but here we are.”

“I see. Is that why you won’t return my calls? Out of some misplaced—”

“Not misplaced,” Hermann interrupts coolly. “My loyalty to Stacker Pentecost and the Jaeger Program was never misplaced. Even you must admit that’s true.”

“Yes, I can see your ideals were borne out in the end,” Lars concedes.

“Really?” Hermann is on his feet so fast, his chair clatters halfway across the aisle behind him. And since they’re still holding hands, Newt is jerked to his feet along with him. “You can’t just say that I was right? It’s not that I knew what I was talking about all this time, oh no, how could I ever? I’m just a foolish idealist who happened to put his faith in the winning team by sheer dumb luck!” He starts off at a dull roar, and works his way up to possibly the angriest Newt’s ever seen him. And that’s saying something.

Newt tries to stagger over to his side in a suave, I’m-dating-your-son-and-I-support-him kind of way, not in a rag-doll-thrown-around-by-a-tantrummy-toddler way. Not that it really matters. Neither Gottlieb is apparently aware of his presence at the moment.

“Hermann, stop making a spectacle of yourself.”

“A spectacle? Oh, that’s rich!”

“I did not travel halfway around the world to argue with you!”

“Then why did you come? You’re not wanted here, and I can guarantee I’m not the only person in this room who feels that way!” He gestures around at their colleagues, most of whom are pretending to ignore the show. But more than a few are openly preparing to throw rotten tomatoes at the dickbucket who hijacked their funding and almost cost them the war.

Wait. Tendo has an actual, literal tomato in his hand. Where did he even get that?

“I came here to talk to you.” For the first time, Lars Gottlieb sounds like an actual human being. Looks like one, too. Like a real father reaching out to his son.

Hermann squeezes Newt’s hand even tighter. Ow ow ow ow ow ow—

“I have no desire to talk to you. Sorry you’ve wasted a trip. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have rather a lot of work to do. Come, Dr. Geiszler.” He strides out of the mess hall. Newt follows along in his wake.

“My shirt,” he says, once they’re out in the hall.

“I’ll buy you a new one.”

“No, it’s okay.” Someone will probably grab it for him, or else he can go back and get it later. What’s more concerning is that they left their noodles, and now that Hermann’s all upset, it won’t occur to him to eat anything else. Newt will have to get him some snacks for later.

“I am terribly sorry about this.” Hermann slows as they approach the elevators. The dude can book it when he really wants to.

“You didn’t do anything.” Newt checks behind them to make sure Lars hasn’t decided to follow them before he pulls Hermann to a stop and asks, “Are you okay?”

“Yes, of course. Perfectly all right,” Hermann says, which is, of course, what he always says when he’s not.

“If you want, I’ll run interference until he goes home. You don’t have to see him, you don’t have to talk to him, and whatever he’s here for, he can’t have it.”

“He wants my forgiveness,” Hermann sighs. “He’s left voicemails. I couldn’t help listening.”

“Oh,” says Newt. That’s…good, right? The old man is sorry, and ready to admit that he was wrong. He’s been stubbornly devoted to making nothing but bad choices, and on a personal level, he should be horribly ashamed of the way he’s treated his own son, but now he’s trying to make a change. Right?

“Don’t let me change my mind,” Hermann urges. “If I decide to give him another chance, lock me in my room and sit on me.”

“You’re giving me permission? That’s awesome!”

“Newton.”

“Well, it is. I’ve always wanted to sit on you.”

Hermann grimaces and hits the elevator button with his cane hand. The other is still clinging to Newt’s, so Newt raises it to his mouth and kisses the first finger he can get to. Some of the doom and gloom clears from Hermann’s expression.

“I really mean it, Newton. I don’t want to hear an apology from that man, because I will be stupid enough to accept it. And I don’t want to forgive him. It’s disrespectful to the dead.”

“Hey. You’re not stupid.” Hermann opens his mouth to argue, but Newt shuts him up with a finger to his lips. “It’s not stupid to want your own father to be better than he is. It’s not stupid to expect him to be decent. Okay?”

“Newt—”

“Okay?”

“Hrm.” The elevator doors slide open, and Hermann steps inside without giving him an answer. Not cool.

“You don’t have to forgive him,” Newt insists. “But maybe you deserve to hear his apology, just for you.” He kisses Hermann’s hand again. “Hey, if it makes you feel any better, nobody around here will ever let him off the hook for his part in prolonging the war. And I never liked the way he talked to you, even when I had my head so far up my ass I couldn’t even be your friend. I hope you don’t decide to forgive him, but even if you do, I won’t.”

“Thank you, darling, that’s very kind. I…think.”

“Nothing kind about it! I can hold a grudge for both of us. You know I’m good for it.” Newt waggles his eyebrows as dramatically as he can until Hermann stops looking like a world-weary old man and rolls his eyes like an irritable teen instead.

“By Jove, Newton,” he sighs. Then he looks down at their clasped hands until he’s finally forced to smile. “You are marvelous, you know. By fucking Jove.”

[st-kitten]

brat party pilot

pt.2

frat parties were what was keeping konoha university interesting enough to attract new students. the legacy kids dominated the campus, the sorority sisters added their feminine flair, but the newcomers? absolute meat.

sasuke, the cool, collected, 'do not talk to me' rich kid always used these parties as an excuse to get high, drunk, and found himself in meaningless hook ups to kill time. this party was no different.

or so he thought

this chapter was inspired by @gingerkunoichii 's work NEGATIVE SPACE

warnings: alcohol, suggestive language, lesbian kiss (warning because it's so hot), weed, coke, making out, blowjob, peeing? (not in a piss kink way)

you hated parties. not the idea of them—getting together, getting drunk, and waking up with an embarrassing memory or two wasn’t the problem. but this one? this wasn’t a party you could skip. you needed to find a club to survive the academic year, and the stronger your social network, the smoother your university life would be.

you stepped into the massive frat house alongside another newbie, karin. her striking red hair stood out next to yours, which was coffee brown, almost black. the place was packed.

at least you’d had the sense to dress for it. a black deep-neck slip, an animal-print skirt brushing your thighs, stockings, and knee-high boots. you’d added a few vivienne westwood earrings and a necklace for good measure. the nose piercing and the ten others on your ears? perfect. you fit right in with the edgy crowd buzzing around you. at least the impostor syndrome didn't show.

sasuke leaned against the bar, his whiskey on the rocks barely touched, the glass sweating in his hand. his eyes tracked the chaos of the party, but his face gave nothing away. the pounding music, the reek of alcohol and sweat—it all blurred into background noise. none of it mattered.

he knew how these things went. naruto and sakura would scout for new people to be in their clique, and most would end up forgotten by the end of the party.

"right on time," chirped sakura, who was just itching to get drunk.

ino, the tall blonde, dragged you and karin into the group, recognising your 'deer-in-the-headlights' faces. while the redhead immediately jumped into nervous conversation, you took a moment to observe everyone. you fucking wanted to run away and shove your own head in some trashcan. you looked around, taking in the blazing atmosphere of the party. black lights, discoballs hung on the ceiling, bass rattling like small plosive bombs. it was too loud for your taste.

sasuke’s eyes narrowed just a little when he caught the curve of your tits under her jacket. his gaze lingered for a beat longer than he meant to before he forced himself to look away, his expression unreadable. the thought crossed his mind—too quick, too distracting—but he shoved it aside, focusing on the whiskey in his glass instead.

naruto, bigger and bulkier than ever, strode over with that magnetic energy of his. he threw an arm around karin and your shoulders like you’d been friends forever, grinning as he welcomed you both to the university. karin looked even smaller next to him, but at least you didn’t. you were taller than most of the girls—except maybe ino—so you didn’t feel completely dwarfed by his presence. he brought a 'you jump, i jump' vibe to the party. you could tell this kind of presence warranted him being the flagship face of parties.

a quick round of introductions did you some good to put names to memorable faces.

sasuke didn’t bother joining the conversation, content to sit back and watch how the newcomers fit—or didn’t fit—into the established group.

"ignore sasuke, he's in his sulking era," bristled ino.

his thoughts were cut short by ino’s comment about his so-called “sulking mood.” his eyes flicked to her, cold and sharp, before he turned back to his drink like she wasn’t worth the effort. the tension in the air spiked, but sasuke didn’t care. the infamous uchiha aloofness was alive and well tonight.

his gaze slid over the crowd and landed on you again. there was something about you that kept pulling his attention, no matter how much he tried to ignore it. maybe it was the way you handled naruto’s boisterous energy without flinching, or the quiet confidence you seemed to carry without even trying.

karin elaborated on what clubs she was interested in, her sentences incomplete, her voice stuttering with god knows what jitter.

naruto looked down at you, "and you?"

you paused, taking a moment to think. truth was, you weren’t sure yourself. but you weren’t about to let a frat party dictate what club you’d end up joining.

"what’s the crowd-pleaser?" you asked instead, hoping to steer the conversation away from your indecision.

"ah, join the martial arts club with me, then. i’ll train you real good," he said, his tone dripping with suggestion.

sakura kicked naruto's shin. "not even ten minutes in, and you’re already trying to flirt. shameless."

you stood there, completely unfazed by naruto’s attempt at being flirty.

"what's your major anyway?" asked ino.

"international relations." you hated telling people that. everyone ended up assuming you were a know-it-all.

"i don’t know... we don’t really have a club for that. sports it is, i guess," sakura said with a shrug.

naruto snickered at that, clearly pleased we’d circled back to his suggestion. "don’t worry, sakura-chan, i’ll take care of her," he said confidently, his grip on your shoulder tightening a little, as he looked down at you again.

you crossed your arms, naruto’s still slung around your shoulder, and shot him a look. "mommy? sorry, mommy?" you deadpanned, mocking the way he was practically parenting the newbies.

that set the group off. tenten spit out her drink, choking on laughter, while ino and sakura doubled over, cackling. even hinata giggled quietly behind her hand.

as the others erupted into laughter at your jab at naruto, sasuke’s lips twitched ever so slightly, the corner of his mouth lifting in a rare, almost imperceptible smile. he couldn’t help it—he appreciated good wit when it was deserved.

tenten chimed, "if you're into ir, you've got to know your languages. do you?"

now that, you nodded without overthinking. if there was one thing you were a deadly expert at, was languages.

temari's eyebrow quirked since she was the head of the debate team, and often participated in the mock united nations events. "oh? care to elaborate?"

"english, french, german, italian, japanese, hindi, marathi"

naruto immediately shot back, "tell me you love me in french... or german," teasing with that grin of his. sakura kicked him again, clearly over it.

you just smiled at naruto, a hint of contempt in your expression. "bâtard sans vergogne..." you muttered.

of course, he didn’t catch the meaning, so he assumed you were playing along. what you really called him? shameless bastard.

as the party picked up speed and the noise hit deafening levels, it seemed like everyone was more or less shitfaced. meanwhile, you stood there, quietly thankful for your absurdly high alcohol tolerance. you'd already downed one glass of the party default god-awful punch—honestly, it should be classified as a crime—followed by tenten’s never-ending stream of vodka shots (about six, maybe seven, but who's counting?). then, of course, came the special concoction ino and naruto had whipped up (basically collecting all the spilled liquor that existed), which was probably dangerous enough to be considered a biohazard. somehow, despite all that, you were still only tipsy.

as someone who had walked the fine line between sanity and madness, the uchiha prince was acutely aware of how easily those lines could blur, leading to disastrous consequences.

he watched, his eyes sharp, as your usually composed demeanor began to slip. your movements grew more erratic, your words slurring just enough to catch his attention.

but there was another part of him—darker, more twisted—that found some kind of perverse fascination in watching your inhibitions fall away. it always happened with the newbies, this inevitable point where they embarrassed themselves, thinking they could demand unconditional loyalty and attention from konoha’s elite just because they were being included in the party games and whatnot.

when shikamaru showed up late—because of course he did—he passed around a joint to anyone who was interested. people scattered to sit on the lawn outside, some claiming camping chairs, others plopping down on the stairs of the patio. sasuke followed, his presence barely noticed. after all, nobody could ever predict his behavior, so he moved with that same quiet, unassuming air he always did.

you sat on one of the bean bags thrown on the grass. your usual poise seemed to crumble, replaced by a relaxed, almost seductive air. your body leaned trustingly on your own elbows, your long legs stretched ahead of you, your boots clacking against each other to the distant boom of the music coming from inside the frathouse.

a spin the bottle game was initiated, with kiba taking on the role of gamemaster, gleefully deciding what the dares would be.

the bottle spun and landed on tenten. kiba grinned mischievously and tossed out the dare: "chug a can of beer... in a handstand."

being the sporty little thing she was, tenten didn’t even flinch. without breaking a sweat, she flipped into a perfect handstand and downed the beer like it was nothing.

kiba’s eyes sparkled as the bottle landed on naruto, the challenge in the air thickening.

“alright, naruto,” kiba said with a sly grin, “i dare you to take your shirt off and let the girls write the most embarrassing things they can think of on your chest. no backing out.”

naruto blinked, then, as usual, grinned that wide, careless toothy grin of his. without hesitation, he pulled his shirt over his head, exposing his chest to the eager eyes of the group.

sakura was the first to indulge, scribbling 'swipe right casanova' on his chest. naruto smirked and slapped her ass when she turned around to sit back down.

ino snickered and wrote 'ask me about my feelings' on his abs, knowing how much naruto hated it.

tenten wrote 'i heart ramen' with a glitter sharpie. temari threatened to carve 'not as good in bed as you think' on his torso, but settled for a sketch of a dick on balls on his shoulder.

hinata, as much as she knew she couldn't go soft on naruto, just wrote the number 69 on his torso.

karin stumbled on her way to him and spent half the time touching his body, but wrote 'bad decision' on his stomach.

you pulled out you blood red liquid lipstick and wrote 'i only date my hand' on his left pec.

naruto looked like a graffiti wall. kiba took pictures like he was on journalistic duty, the flash making naruto's muscles stand out.

sasuke let out a snort at the sight, finding it amusing just how well the newcomers figured out what kind of a person he was.

kiba spun the bottle again and it landed on you.

when the bottle landed on you, kiba grinned, clearly expecting chaos. “i dare you to kiss sakura,” he said, his voice laced with obvious amusement.

both you and sakura rolled your eyes at his predictable intention to see two girls make out, but that didn’t stop you. you got off the bean bag, crawling over to sakura like a panther, who met you halfway with a smirk.

naruto, kiba, ino, and tenten erupted in hoots and howls, egging you both on. sakura and you kissed—at first, just a quick, teasing peck, but with the booze kicking in, it turned into something more.

what started as a casual kiss quickly became a proper, tongue-filled sloppy make out. her hands found your neck for support and you held her by her waist with one hand, letting your tongue slide in. sakura was no coward either, she bit your lip, and paved the way for a full-fledged open mouthed, wet kiss.

sasuke's eyes momentarily widened at the intensity of the kiss between you and sakura, a flicker of surprise cutting through his usual stoic expression. more so because you two were right in front of him. the raw passion, fuelled by alcohol, was a far cry from the timid pecks he'd seen before. he hadn't expected the newbie to be this bold, this daring.

he watched, transfixed, as you broke the kiss, your lips glistening with saliva, chest heaving with laughter. sakura chuckled and sat back in her camping chair.

naruto, grinning like a maniac after watching you and sakura, whined, "man, what will it take for you to kiss me?"

you still had sakura's lip gloss on your lips, and hers were stained with your dark red lipstick.

"200 bucks," you shot back, barely skipping a beat.

naruto moved with lightning speed, pulling out four $50 bills from the wallet in his pocket, waving them in front of you. without hesitation, you snatched them up, scooting closer to him. you pulled him in for the kiss, naruto's large hand grabbing the back of your neck, the crowd erupting around you—everyone except sasuke, who remained as unreactive as ever, but twitching just enough. the howls and whistles from the group rang out in the background, adding to the chaotic energy of the moment. kiba of course had recorded the whole thing with a phone in his shaky hands.

by the end of the night, most of them were hammered as hell. sasuke had vanished somewhere, probably off to brood in peace, while shikamaru lay sprawled out in a cloud of smoke from his fifth joint.

you could feel the alcohol settling in, and it was time for a bathroom break. weaving through the drunken chaos inside, you finally made it to the bathroom, only to find sasuke neatly carding a line of what you could only guess was coke.

"uh... sorry..." you mumbled

sasuke didn't flinch at your sudden intrusion, his focus remaining solely on the line of powder before him. he acknowledged you presence with a curt nod, his eyes never leaving the task at hand. with precise movements, he snorted the cocaine, the rush of adrenaline immediately heightening his senses. the uchiha prince felt invigorated, his mind clearing of the dull haze that had begun to settle over him. when he finished, sasuke turned to face you, his gaze piercing and intense.

"sorry... i uhh... had to pee..." you turned to leave to find some other unoccupied bathroom, bumping into the closed door.

sasuke pointed to the toilet seat in the bathroom.

"i'm not gonna pee with you standing here, if that's what you're implying"

a smirk tugged at the corner of sasuke's lips, his eyes glinting with a dark, mischievous intensity. "not necessarily," he said, his voice low and dripping with suggestion.

"can you like leave? fuck... i really have to pee, man"

sasuke simply leaned against the basin, his arms crossed. of course, he'd be someone who played games with people. of course.

you were too drunk to argue and not brave enough to wet you stockings with him watching.

groaning, you hitched your skirt up and little, pulling the thigh high stocking down enough. "fine. look away, though."

sasuke made no effort to do anything. his vision was half-impaired anyway. he stood there, his mind foggy, as you did your business. the sound of a single stream hitting the toilet bowl echoed in the small, barely lit bathroom.

"you're not high enough," he commented.

you were too drunk to muster a logical argument, and he was too far drugged to completely suppress his impulses.

"i'm not doing coke, if that's what you're asking," you slurred, your voice heavy with both defiance and hazy resolve.

sasuke chuckled, a low, almost predatory sound that sent a shiver down your spine. "i wasn’t offering it to you, love," he purred, his voice laced with dark amusement.

"there are other ways to get high," he said, pulling out a single joint, expecting to share. you shrugged, not minding it. sasuke lit the joint, taking a deep drag before exhaling a plume of smoke, and handing it to you when you stood up, pulling your panties and stockings up, and straightening your skirt and flushing the toilet.

as you shared the joint, passing it back and forth, the atmosphere in the bathroom grew heavier with tension. the haze of marijuana mixed with the effects of the cocaine, and the muffled sound of the rave music coming from outside the bathroom made everything feel liminal and surreal.

you had to lean against the bathroom sink, your palms gripping the cool marble counter for stability. sasuke stood in front of you, his presence towering, almost suffocating in the small space. the faint curl of smoke escaped his lips, drifting lazily toward your face, the scent sharp and intoxicating.

"you didn't play that spin the bottle thing... not social?" you asked, taking the joint from sasuke to take a short drag.

"social games aren't really my thing," he admitted, his eyes never leaving yours as he took the joint back and inhaled deeply.

exhaling slowly, the smoke curled lazily from his lips, his gaze dropping to your mouth as you formed a small 'o' around the tip of the joint. the sight stirred something in him, a flicker of desire sparking beneath his usually stoic exterior.

"or did you just not want to end up kissing naruto?" you asked, snorting a laugh at how most of kiba's dares revolved around getting people to kiss each other.

sasuke's expression stayed impassive, but the corners of his mouth twitched upward ever so slightly, betraying a faint hint of amusement. "maybe," he said, his voice laced with dry humor.

"what's your thing then?"

"my thing is power," he whispered, his voice low and husky. "and control."

his fingers traced a slow path along your jawline, tilting your face up to meet his piercing gaze. "when i take something, i take it completely. leave nothing behind but ruin."

the promise in his words was equal parts terrifying and exhilarating, like a siren's call to surrender to the darkness simmering beneath his calm exterior.

you blinked at him, processing his overly philosophical answer, and then burst out laughing, your forehead dropping against his shoulder as you struggled to catch your breath.

sasuke's initial surprise at your laughter quickly gave way to a begrudging smile, his lips curving upward in a rare display of reciprocation. he let his hand travel lightly up your hip, as he looked down at your forehead touching his shoulder.

you looked up straight, feeling dizzy "what... fucked up weed is this?"

sasuke's eyes narrowed slightly at your question, a flicker of unease crossing his features before he masked it with a shrug. "just a special blend," he said vaguely, his tone noncommittal.

his hand moved to your waist, steadying you as you swayed on your feet. despite your dizziness, he remained completely composed, his movements as precise and controlled as ever.

you sat down on the closed toilet lid, and sasuke stood towering in front of you.

"tell me," he murmured, his voice low and hypnotic, "what do you want right now?" if sasuke loved one thing, it was to get into people's heads and twist their minds to suit his needs.

the question hung in the air, thick with implication, as he waited for your response, his breath barely steady.

"honestly? i'd kill for gyoza," you mumbled, caught up in a fantasy about food.

a faint, enigmatic smile tugged at the corners of sasuke's lips, a glimmer of amusement flickering in his eyes. "gyoza, huh?" he mused, his voice almost too smooth.

leaning in closer, his breath brushed against your ear, his words a conspiratorial whisper. "i might know a place that serves the best gyoza in town. if you behave yourself, i might just take you there."

this shit was too easy for sasuke. clearly he expected some quick fuck to heighten his already euphoric state.

"says the guy who did coke... i'm the ideal student, buddy."

sasuke's eyes flashed with irritation at your jab, but he quickly regained his composure, a cold, calculating look settling over his features.

"you're one to talk, considering your current state," he retorted, his fingers grabbing your jaw, making you look up at him, emphasizing his point. "at least when i indulge, i know what i'm getting myself into."

there was a hint of disdain in his voice, a subtle reminder of the vast differences between your worlds.

"yes, yes... rich boy and the things he gets away with," you replied, the words tinged with a mix of amusement and irritation.

he leaned in closer, his face inches from yours, his hot breath mingling with yours.

"watch it," he warned, his voice low and menacing. "you don't know the half of what i've done, what i'm capable of."

a silent threat lingered beneath his words, a reminder of the depth of his world. "don't pretend like you understand my world."

with that, he pulled back, his demeanour once again icy and aloof, as if the moment of vulnerability had never happened.

you looked at him, pouting. "sorry..."

he reached out, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear with a gentleness that belied his harsh exterior.

"forget it," he muttered, his tone gruff but not unkind. "we're both a little... out of it right now."

his hand lingered on your cheek for a moment before withdrawing, leaving your skin tingling with the memory of his touch.

"are these parties always this intense?" you asked, your voice curious, considering this was your first-ever frat party on campus, while sasuke was already a second-year.

he hummed in agreement.

"i kinda like the bathroom more than the party," you said, looking around at the dimly lit bathroom.

you had to strain your neck to look up at him, you face right in front of his crotch. "also smells nice... whatever that... room freshener is." you swore you knew that smell.

"i prefer a certain scent," he explained, his voice strained.

reaching into his pocket, he produced a small bottle of cologne, holding it out to you.

you didn't have to see it to recognize it. "oh, you dior sauvage boys... fucking toxic," you chuckled.

how dare she dismiss his refined taste in such a cavalier manner? "toxic, huh?" he spat, his voice dripping with venom. "well, at least i don't reek of cheap perfume like some people i could mention."

his eyes raked over you, taking in the way your clothes clung to your curves, the sweet, floral scent of your perfume wafting up to tease his senses.

"hey, don't insult miss dior..." you defended your perfume, looking up at him.

from his view, all he saw was a pair of brown doe eyes and a cute face.

he leaned in closer, his breath ghosting across your parted lips as he whispered, "oh, i wasn't insulting it. just you."

"but since you brought it up..." he paused, his lips hovering millimeters from yours. "maybe i should show you how a real man handles a woman in dior."

sasuke was a master at manipulating women, his quiet intensity a weapon he wielded with precision. he always knew what he wanted—and he took it, no hesitation. he understood that neither of you were in any state to go all the way, but a little indulgence? that was nothing. his fingers brushed through your hair with a cold, almost predatory gentleness, as if stroking a cat he owned, standing tall and looming over you like a shadow.

sasuke's fingers tangled in your hair, guiding your head closer to the prominent bulge straining against his zipper. his voice was a low, husky purr, dripping with sinful intent, "you know where this is going, don't you?"

"buddy i'm stoned. might just bite your dick off"

a dark chuckle rumbled in sasuke's chest at your bold declaration, his eyes glinting with wicked amusement. "Oh, I highly doubt that," he drawled, his confidence unwavering. his free hand reached down to unzip his fly, and tug his boxers down, slowly revealing the thick, hard length of his erection. he gave himself a deliberate stroke, his cock pulsing with need as he watched your reaction.

"come on, live a little," sasuke coaxed, his voice low and persuasive. "you wanna impress your seniors, don't you?"

you blushed when his long, leaking, hard dick came into your view. "yeah, that's not gonna fit in my mouth" you mumbled, absolutely high from the joint sasuke had shared with you.

sasuke's smirk widened at your candid assessment, his ego stroked by your clear fascination despite your doubts.

he stepped closer, his heated breath washing over your flushed cheeks as he guided your head toward his throbbing erection. "hm, only one way to find out, sweetheart" 

with a firm but gentle pressure, he urged your lips to part, the swollen head of his cock nudging against your soft, inviting mouth.

based on whatever you knew about it, you pressed slow, wet kisses to his head first.

a low groan escaped Sasuke's throat as your warm, moist lips enveloped the sensitive tip of his cock, your tongue darting out to swirl around the crown. your tentative exploration sent sparks of pleasure racing through his veins.

"that's it, baby... suck it." his voice was a ragged whisper, laced with desire and barely restrained lust. 

after a few unflattering licks, you gently took his head in your mouth, licking the small slit with your tongue.

"fuck..." he gasped, his hips jerking involuntarily as he struggled to ride out the intense waves of bliss crashing over him.

as your lips stretched to accommodate his girth, sasuke's eyes rolled back in his head, a choked cry of ecstasy escaping him. the feeling of your hot, velvety mouth enveloping his thick shaft was indescribable, each subtle bob of your head sending jolts of electricity straight to his core.

he watched, transfixed, as your cheeks hollowed with each suckle, your lips gleaming with saliva as they worked his rigid length.

 you used your hand to stroke what didn't fit in your mouth. you sucked his cock way too much like a pro for someone who was completely stoned.

"you're a quick learner, aren't you?" he murmured, his voice rough with arousal.

his fingers tightened in your hair, guiding your pace as he began to thrust shallowly, savouring the feeling of your tongue dancing along his sensitive underside. "that's it, baby... take it all..."

your neck started to hurt, so you got off the toilet seat and sank to your knees in front of him, the new angle letting him thrust deeper inside, and allowing you to take more of him.

his vision blurred at the sudden increase in depth, his cock plunging past your lips and into the warm, welcoming recesses of your throat. he grunted, his fingers digging into your scalp as he revelled in the tight, silken heat surrounding him.

"fuuuck..." he hissed, his hips snapping forward to bury himself to the hilt.

your muffled moans and the obscene suction of your mouth, filled the room, creating sounds of depraved pleasure. at one moment, his thrust went deep, bottoming out, fully lodged in your mouth, to your throat. you simply moaned around his dick, the fullness choking you, each brutal thrust pushing your head back and forth until your nose was pressed against his pelvis, the short tuft of black hair rubbing against the bridge of your nose. he grunted between clenched teeth, his balls slapping lewdly against your chin with every savage plunge.

as his orgasm crashed over him, sasuke's vision tunnelled, his consciousness consumed by the overwhelming sensations coursing through his body. he felt your throat constrict around him, milking his cock for every last drop of his release, and the knowledge that you were swallowing his seed only heightened his pleasure. with a final, shuddering thrust, he emptied himself into your willing mouth, his cum painting your lips and chin with thick, white streaks. as the aftershocks subsided, he watched, transfixed, as his spend dripped down your face, neck, and pooled on your breasts, seeping between your plump tits.

panting heavily, sasuke slowly withdrew from your mouth, his softening cock slipping free with a wet pop. sasuke's gaze remained fixed on your cum-streaked face, his chest still heaving with exertion as he tried to regain some semblance of composure. when you licked your lips clean, a smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. he pulled you up and crashed his lips into yours, tasting himself on your lips.

he'd zipped his dick back inside, though it kept twitching from time to time. he made out with you against the bathroom tiles, letting his hand slip inside your top, cupping your breasts over your lacy bra, his fingertips gliding against the streak of cum that was pasted over your flesh.

sasuke's fingers found your pert nipples through the thin fabric of your bra, rolling and pinching them roughly as he continued to ravage your mouth. the sensation of your hardened peaks beneath his touch sent a fresh wave of desire coursing through him, his half-hard cock stirring once more within the confines of his pants.

at the sound of the bathroom door banging open, sasuke's expression darkened, his grip on your breast tightening almost painfully. he growled low in his throat, clearly not pleased at the interruption to their heated encounter. "fuck..." he muttered, his voice laced with irritation and residual lust.

your made yourselves presentable and exited the bathroom, letting the random student use it. the sudden bright lights and the noise only made you uncomfortable. a stark contrast to the cosy, intimate setting the bathroom had been.

the party had wrapped up, leaving a trail of discarded cups and empty bottles scattered across the floor. most people had passed out in various corners of the house, still drunk from the chaos of the night. sasuke slipped out unnoticed, his usual need to retreat and isolate himself taking over, as it often did when the noise became too much.

you followed suit, the events of the night lingering in your mind but not enough to keep you from the looming task ahead. there were classes to enrol in, decisions to make, and the chaos of the party was quickly forgotten as you turned toward your responsibilities.

as he walked towards his bike, his mind replayed the events of the evening, particularly his intense encounters with you. the memory of your lips wrapped around his cock, the feel of your throat constricting around him, sent a shiver down his spine.

boy was he glad he showed up to that stupid party.

[serpentface]

Question about Couya! Since she is a bastard what are the reasons about her being brought into the main family by her father. Was it genuine care for his child or a way to save face politically/socially? Is her birth mother alive? Do you think she would have had a better life growing up anywhere else?

This is in large part due to how cultural perceptions and legal punishment of adultery varies between male and female citizens, looped into the very strictly patrilineal kinship system.

By legal definition, the word for 'adultery' applies only to situations where a man has an affair with a married woman, or a married woman has an affair with any man. Other forms of affairs (eg a married man having an affair with an unmarried woman) are wrapped into a broader set of sexual misdemeanors and aren't often charged or punished in practice, and the punishments are comparatively minor (if an unwed woman's father pursues charges, the man in the affair is likely to just pay a fine). On a social level, extramaritial affairs in general are certainly not Approved of and seen as lowly and dishonorable, but the average response is significantly less harsh/more willing to entertain Nuance with men than with women.

In this society there's differentiated shades of bastardry depending on the contexts of the child's birth, as well as a distinction for 'nameless bastards' (has not been claimed by their biological father or maternal grandfather, or claimed in adoption).

a) A child born to an unmarried woman via an unmarried man: non-issue for father, potentially serious social harm for the woman (especially if she has never been married and expected virginal, much less severe as a widow or divorcee). The child will not be notably disadvantaged in of themselves (their status will depend more on whether they are claimed and thus provided the social security of a family patriarch), the father will experience no hard disadvantages in claiming them.

b) A child born to an unmarried woman via a married man: mild sexual misdemeanor for the father carrying levels of social shame, even more serious social harm for the woman (often framed as not just loose but a manipulative Seductress of a married man). The child might experience minor to moderate social disadvantages, the consequences of the father claiming them are purely social and will not typically be severe. (Couya is this)

c) A child born to a married woman via an unmarried or married man: both man and woman have committed a crime and can be severely punished. The biological father can technically claim the child but will be disincentivized from doing so. This is the form of bastardry most comparable to the conventional definition, in that it is heavily stigmatized and has effects on concerns of kinship and inheritance.

In addendum to this, if the adulterous wife's legal husband claims the child, this may be punishable if determined to be active concealment of adultery (which is also a crime), and has EXTREME social consequences either way. (Either you're a cuckold too stupid to notice that your wife has been skipping out on you, or you're a MEGAcuckold adultery-accessory willingly rearing another man's child after being horribly shamed by him).

(This is separate from adoption- a man who marries a woman with an unclaimed child after the fact (whether it was a product of adultery or just a general out of wedlock birth) and claims the child is an adoptive father, he is not concealing adultery or being cuckolded.)

A child born in an affair can be considered an heir to their biological fathers (descent and kinship is fully patrilineal and on a Basic level it doesn't matter who the mother is), and can very smoothly and legally be claimed when the affair was not considered criminal adultery. The concern on that front is social perception rather than material legal consequences or kinship issues.

Couya's birth mother was an unwed servant working as a housekeeper for her father Saizen, so the Crime of adultery did not take place. It would be considered a minor sexual misdemeanor, and the woman's father was not about to pursue charges against a nobleman who could Ruin him (and had also formally expressed that he would claim the child, which meant he would not be saddled with a nameless bastard granddaughter). So the concerns here were entirely social.

The affair might have started beforehand but the pregnancy that produced Couya occurred after his wife's third viable pregnancy ended in the premature birth of a underdeveloped boy deemed necessary to euthanize (and tbr would Not have survived either way). This was after Livya Haidamane had a couple early term miscarriages, two viable but very difficult pregnancies wherein one child was very weak and sickly for the first several years of life, and struggled to conceive every time. A lot of people are going to be at least a little sympathetic to a married man having an affair and claiming a bastard in this context. It's definitely ideal and practical to have more than two children, and his wife (while not outright infertile) clearly could not reliably bear healthy children. (The average response is going to be "Well he shouldn't have done it but like, I get it")

Couya being claimed by her father was a mix of genuine care and saving face. Initially it was MUCH more the latter than the former. Saizen made attempts to hide the servant's pregnancy and to keep his own wife out of sight during the late term (to prevent the baby appearing after his wife had been seen Extremely not pregnant). But there's some levels of care involved, he could very easily have fired the pregnant servant and had nothing to do with his bastard and she would have no recompense whatsoever. The choice to keep and claim the baby and ensure its entrance into the world bore as little social scrutiny as possible is an act of care for his own progeny.

This was Not an act of care for Couya's birth mother (beyond the fact that concealing her pregnancy would benefit her in hiding that she is not only Not a virgin prior to marriage but had a child). She probably would have been about 17-19 at the time and was fired a few months after giving birth, and most likely never saw Couya again after this point (if she did, it would most likely be in the context of seeing her as an adult Odonii in public and noting her to look Scarily familiar). She has an Okayish chance at still being alive, she'd be around 50 (and a person who survives the high infant mortality and birth casualty rates stands a good chance of hitting their 60s), though she could very well be a casualty of the drought+famine.

Whether or not Couya's life would have been better is kind of a mixed bag. She had an awful fucking childhood in large part because her adoptive mother Livya Haidamane hated her. (Livya was ultimately a pretty horrible person but not just like. An Evil Bitch. She had A Lot going on and Couya was a living breathing insult to her and reminder of like, every one of her dashed hopes and dreams). Couya is also autistic and presented very intense symptoms as a child in a society that is Not equipped for a mass-understanding and support of cognitive differences. But she still did have an immensely privileged life with profound physical/economic levels of security inaccessible to the vast majority of people in this region, including her birth mother. Saizen also actually Liked her and cared about her, he just wasn't a routine physical presence in any of his children's lives.

Had she been left with her biological mother, she would be in a very disadvantaged situation as a nameless bastard to an unwed mother. Her biological grandfather may or may not have been willing to claim her, and her mother would have great difficulties in finding a husband (which is ultimately necessary for the security of women in this society). I think her mother was a relatively kind person but not like, a perfect angel. She would probably have complicated feelings about her bastard daughter, especially one whose very existence materially disadvantages her and was very, very difficult as a child. So this probably would not have been a good situation for Couya either.

If you broaden the question to ANY other family completely divorced from the circumstances of her birth, yeah it definitely could have been better. But in her case it's like either "Life of grotesque socioeconomic privilege but in an abusive household" or "Life of profound socioeconomic disadvantages in a household that Probably wouldn't have been this abusive but certainly wouldn't be healthy". There wasn't really a good option for her.

[mantisgodsdomain]

Anyways, to those who have been wondering what we've been doing during our impromptu Tumblr Vacation or whatever we're calling it, we've been trying to find a playthrough of Baldur's Gate 3 that is made by someone who doesn't annoy the shit out of us, and also tormenting Karlach Cliffgate (as you do)

[flowercrowngods]

i don't know how to be merely acquaintances when we used to be friends. or i think we used to be. i don't know how to yearn for a simple hello when you've been heaping your affection on me months ago, and i don't know how to talk to you when you won't say anything. when suddenly it's all about me. you know i have nothing to say, you know my brain is void of everything but horribleness and i cannot tell you about my day because i don't even know about my day. i cannot tell you about my day when i know you won't listen, when i know you'll apply your philosophy to my world and don't believe me when i say that everything is terrible. i don't know how to be the person you seem to think i am, or the person you want in your life. i don't know if you want anyone else in your life now that you're in love and sappy, found another recipient for your affections, leaving me empty and wounded and yearning.

you said you missed me. said it many times, while i was gone. now i'm back, have been back, and i wonder how you missed me, why you missed me, when you won't talk to me. i think you mistook missing for worrying. i think you mistook caring for a feeling of obligation. i think you like missing me more than talking to me.

and i think i can't breathe with how much that hurts

[dbphantom]

Hate having adhd went to go work on my fallout modpack, got distracted while going to disable the steam overlay, ended up in the points shop, went to go edit my profile, decided to change my pfp, found a buried folder I forgot existed, found some old Veneer art I forgot existed, spent 45 minutes looking at all the old photos, STILL HAVE NOT TOGGLED ONE SIMPLE OPTION THAT SHOULD'VE TAKEN 30 SECONDS AT MOST

[pa-pa-plasma]

genuinely not kidding when I say that Tears of the Kingdom is not only a bad Zelda game, it's just a bad game in general. it's inaccessible to casual gamers who previously could play Zelda games because of their structure. there is virtually no plot, & what little plot there is sucks ass, is predictable in a bad way, & doesn't make any fucking sense, with the absolute lack of emotional reactions from the characters making it all the worse. the references are only there to distract from the absolute nothingness, despite a main timeline Zelda title being the perfect game to have them as a type of storytelling (what happened to Skyloft??). the sky islands are just rocks with nothing on them except fruit, or maybe a chest if you're lucky. the underground is a walking in the dark simulator. the overworld is the exact same shit as in Breath of the Wild & I already explored that twice so why do it again. the caves are pointless. they didn't add much to the game besides that (the shrines & towers are just reskinned, do not fool yourself) & what they did add is just more sidequests to fill the gaps between the bits of non-existent plot. the dungeons suck. the boss battles are okay which is just sad for a Zelda game. it's just a $90 DLC & if that doesn't explain why I'm so mad about this idk what the fuck will. maybe the fact that this "new formula" is a severe step down from the old one, where you had an actual full fucking puzzle game to play with an actual fucking characters & a story that wasn't just more MCU "cameo! reference!!" bullshit

[vanweezer]

very very personal, just insight into where im at w my family and things that bother me/have encouraged me to move out

"i know youre moving out so im just gonna say no ones kicking you out and if you feel like this is something you have to do then ok"

thanks! i know im not being kicked out! but yknow i kinda yet a weird vibe when your out of touch husband takes me to a cemetery to yell at me, tell me im just like my father/dont give my father "the time of day", and that im "mean to people who care about me" in front of his dead mother's grave in a poor attempt at guilting me out of speaking my mind. but no yeah thanks for stating the fucking obvious that im leaving on my own terms

[tariah23]

Well, I’m still glad that Gojo was always a character who was growing and learning at least. He’s literally one of my favorite characters of all time now. Like, he’s never been as perfect as how the fans would make him out to be despite canonically being viewed as an absolute nuisance to everyone around him (I don’t think his peers necessarily hate him but a lot of them probably hate to see him coming and the ones who’ve dealt with him long enough to consider him a friend, tolerate him and groan whenever he opens his mouth, too 😭… out of love. He’s extremely childish so there is only sm the other adults around him can take and to an extent, his students. I think the only characters in canon who adore him and their eye’s sparkle whenever he’s around, and being a silly teacher was Yuuji and Miwa (she asked him for his autograph (he’s the most famous sorcerer in the jjk world) and when she was alone, she did a little dance in the empty hallway 🥺…) from what we’ve seen even though the others still care about him, too. They just find him rather annoying, which he most definitely is. And he does it on purpose. He plays too much.)

[fukushublog]

and here i am being reminded how much other zoroark fucking suck.