#it was a pain to get out I have marks all over my hand from it. and I saw the kitten had a scratch on her face

[theetherealbloom]

IF THERE'S NOTHING LEFT - CH.1

Chapter One: Be The Light, When All The Lights Go Out

Summary: You, a skilled healer, are brought to Rome by Senator Gracchus under the pretense of treating gladiators and Roman elites. You work with General Marcus Acacius to fight against the cruel reign of the twin emperors. Through danger and shared hope, your connection becomes a source of strength as you both dream of freeing Rome.

Paring: General Marcus Acacius x F!Reader

Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI, ANGST, Fluff, SMUT, Age-Gap(ish), Ancient Rome, Canon-Typical Violence, Gladiators, Blood, Gore, War, Romance, Politics, Alternate Universe, Eventual SMUT, Slavery, Sexism, Misogyny, Guilt, PTSD, Rebellion, Empires, (Very Light) Strangers-to-Enemies-to-Friends-to-Lovers, Crowds, Shouting, Animals, Duels, Loose Historical Fiction,

Word Count: 5.8k

A/N: I COULDN’T HELP MYSELF… I NEEDED TO START THIS FIC. RRRAAAAAHHHH. Also, Marcus and Lucilla are NOT married in this fic/AU lmao. I might get some terms wrong since I can’t find the complete script yet (pls help) so I'll be editing this as time passes. And I’m like… not a historian so lol. 

Side note: I’m dyslexic and English isn’t my first language! So I apologize in advance for the spelling and/or grammatical errors. As always, reblogs, comments, and likes are always appreciated. Thank you and happy reading!

Song: If There's Nothing Left by NIKI

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A DAY BEFORE THE RANSACKING OF NUMIDIA

ROME, 200 A.D. — DAY

The air in your clinic was heavy with the metallic tang of blood and the acrid stench of sweat. Shouts and groans from the injured filled the space, their voices blending into a cacophony of pain that would have broken a lesser person. But not you.  

You moved with the precision of a master sculptor, your hands steady as you sutured the gaping wound on a gladiator’s shoulder. Blood seeped into the linen bandages you’d prepared, but you didn’t flinch. Your focus was unshakable, the outside world forgotten as you worked to save the life in front of you.

General Marcus Acacius stood in the shadows of the doorway, his imposing frame unnoticed amidst the chaos. His dark eyes were fixed on you, the healer who had garnered whispers throughout Rome. He had heard of your work, of course—how you treated anyone who came through your doors, from nobles to slaves, without regard for their station. It was rare to see such defiance of societal norms, rarer still to see it done with such quiet grace.  

He watched as you leaned closer to the wounded man, murmuring words of reassurance.  

“Stay still, brave one,” you said softly, your voice low and soothing, cutting through his pain like a balm. “The worst of it is over. You’ll be back in the arena soon enough, though I’d rather you didn’t return at all.”  

The gladiator managed a weak chuckle, wincing as you tied off the last stitch. “You speak as if I have a choice.”  

Your lips curved into a wry smile, though sadness lingered in your eyes. “Perhaps one day you will.”  

Marcus found himself captivated—not just by your skill, but by the quiet authority you wielded in the room. It was rare for him to see someone move with such purpose, commanding respect without ever raising their voice.  

“You risk much, treating slaves and gladiators,” Marcus said, his voice deep and cutting through the din like a blade. 

You didn’t look up, finishing your work before addressing him. “And you risk much, General, entering a place like this.”  

There was no fear in your tone, only a calm defiance that piqued his curiosity. Marcus stepped closer, his boots echoing on the stone floor.

“I’ve seen many healers,” he said, his gaze unwavering. “None with hands as steady as yours. Nor one who speaks so freely.”  

You glanced up at him then, your eyes meeting his with an intensity that momentarily silenced the chaos around you. He was a striking figure, his presence commanding and his face marked by years of war. But it was his eyes that caught you—the deep well of pain and weariness they carried, hidden beneath a veneer of stoicism.  

“Perhaps that’s because most healers know when to hold their tongue,” you replied, arching a brow. “But I’ve found that truth tends to have a healing quality of its own.”  

The corner of his mouth twitched, the ghost of a smile. “And yet, truth has also been known to end lives, particularly in Rome.”  

You returned your attention to the gladiator, checking the bandages one last time. “Then it seems we both walk a fine line, General.”  

Something about the way you said his title felt less like deference and more like acknowledgment. It wasn’t fear or awe that guided your words, but a quiet understanding of who he was and the power he held.  

Marcus watched as you moved to the next patient, a young boy with a deep gash on his leg. Despite the blood staining your hands and the weariness etched into your features, you treated the boy with the same care and kindness you had shown the gladiator.

“Why do you do it?” Marcus asked suddenly, his voice softer now. “Why risk your safety for those Rome has deemed unworthy?”

You paused, glancing at him over your shoulder. For a moment, the question hung in the air between you, heavy with unspoken meaning.

“Because someone has to,” you said simply. “If I don’t, who will?”

The honesty of your answer struck something deep within Marcus. He had spent years justifying his actions as a soldier, telling himself that the violence he carried out was for the good of Rome. Yet here you were, defying the very structure that upheld his world, all for the sake of compassion.

As Marcus continued to watch you, he couldn’t help but wonder if he was witnessing something rare—something that Rome, in all its grandeur, could not crush. For the first time in a long while, he felt a spark of hope.

You broke the silence first, turning to face him fully. “Shouldn’t you be with your army—overseeing the ships and preparing to ransack Numidia, yet another city, all for the so-called ‘Glory of Rome’?” You arched a brow at him, shifting your weight onto one hip with a subtle air of defiance.

The corner of Marcus’s mouth twitched, almost imperceptibly. “Perhaps,” he replied, his voice low, “but I find myself drawn elsewhere.”

“Elsewhere?” You tilted your head, your tone edged with skepticism. “Surely the great General Marcus Acacius has more pressing matters than standing in a healer’s clinic.”

“Perhaps,” he repeated, stepping closer. “But standing here, I begin to wonder if those pressing matters might pale in comparison to what I’ve found.” 

Your breath hitched, but you recovered quickly, letting out a soft laugh. “Flattery from a general. I never thought I’d see the day.”

“It’s not flattery,” he said, his eyes locking with yours. “It’s truth.”

You couldn’t help but laugh softly, shaking your head. “Careful, General. If you keep talking like that, people might start to think you have a heart.”

“Perhaps I do,” he said, his tone quiet, thoughtful. “And perhaps it’s found something worth fighting for, beyond Rome.”

Your breath caught at his words, your heart pounding in a way you hadn’t felt in years. But before you could respond, Marcus turned and walked toward the door, his heavy boots echoing in the quiet.

“I’ll return,” he said without looking back. “There’s still much I need to learn from you.”

And as he disappeared into the sunlight, leaving you alone in the quiet of your clinic, you couldn’t help but feel that your world had shifted—just a little, but enough to make you wonder what might come next.

ROME, 200 A.D. — AFTERNOON

The light of the afternoon sun streamed through the tall, arched windows of Senator Gracchus’s residence, casting golden patterns across the polished marble floors. You moved with practiced ease through the grand room, gathering fresh bandages and jars of ointment from your bag while keeping an ear to the Senator’s usual musings. Today, however, your mind was elsewhere.

“Did you send him to me?” you asked, your tone casual but your curiosity evident. You didn’t look up as you sorted through your supplies, your hands deftly organizing the salves and herbs.

“Send who?” Senator Gracchus replied, reclining on his plush lectus, the deep crimson cushions making him look more regal than his age might suggest. His tone was light, but there was a glimmer of mischief in his eyes. He was far too clever to play coy without reason.

“The General. General Acacius.” You paused, glancing at him from the corner of your eye before returning to your work.

The Senator’s lips curled into a knowing smile as he raised his chalice of wine. “Ah, Marcus. I may have mentioned your name in passing conversation.”

You froze for a moment, your brow furrowing. “In passing conversation?” 

“Of course.” He swirled the wine lazily in his cup. “I simply spoke of a brilliant healer who mends not just bodies but spirits. It seems the good general decided to see for himself if the rumors were true.”

You let out a soft huff, shaking your head as you resumed unpacking your things. “Well, he approached me today.”

“And how was he?” Gracchus asked, leaning forward slightly, his expression both intrigued and amused.

“He seemed…” You hesitated, your hands stilling as you searched for the right words. Memories of the encounter flickered in your mind—his commanding presence, the intensity in his eyes, the way his words seemed to linger long after he’d spoken them. “Alright, I suppose,” you said finally, shrugging your shoulders in an attempt at nonchalance. 

Gracchus chuckled softly, setting his chalice down on a nearby table. “Alright, you suppose? My dear, you’re a terrible liar.”

You turned to face him, crossing your arms over your chest. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means,” the Senator began, his tone teasing, “that you’ve just met one of the most formidable men in Rome, and yet here you are pretending he didn’t make an impression.”

Your cheeks warmed slightly, though you refused to let it show. “Impression or not, I don’t see how it’s relevant. I’m here to heal people, not… whatever it is you’re insinuating.”

“Oh, I’m not insinuating anything,” Gracchus said with a sly grin. “But let me give you a piece of advice, my dear. Men like Marcus Acacius don’t walk into someone’s life without a reason.”

“Perhaps he was just curious,” you said, turning away to mask the flutter of nerves that crept up your spine. “Or bored.”

“Curiosity doesn’t often bring him to clinics,” the Senator mused, leaning back once more. “Boredom even less so. Whatever the reason, I’d wager it has little to do with medicine.”

You rolled your eyes, though a small smile tugged at the corner of your lips. “If this is your way of playing matchmaker, Senator, I’d prefer you didn’t.”

“And here I thought you’d appreciate a distraction,” Gracchus said, raising his chalice once more. “But very well. Consider the matter dropped.”

For now, you thought, knowing full well that Gracchus wasn’t one to let things go so easily. As you busied yourself with preparing his treatment, you couldn’t help but replay the moment you’d locked eyes with Marcus Acacius, his gaze heavy with something you couldn’t quite name. 

Alright, you supposed. But deep down, you knew it was far more than that.

A FEW WEEKS LATER…

OSTIA, PORT OF ROME — DAY  

The sun blazed high over the port, casting a golden glow over the triumphant scene unfolding below. The air was alive with the sound of celebration—the roar of the crowd, the rhythmic chanting of his name.  

“Acacius! Acacius! Acacius!”  

You stood at a distance, hidden in the shadows of a towering marble column, your gaze fixed on the man at the center of the spectacle. Marcus Acacius, the war hero of Rome, returned victorious. His white chariot, pulled by majestic horses, moved with deliberate grace through the throng of citizens who waved laurel branches and tossed flowers into the air.  

The general himself was a vision of Roman splendor, adorned in white and gold, a flowing cape billowing behind him like the wings of an avenging angel. He waved politely to the people, his expression calm and composed, though you suspected a storm brewed beneath that veneer.  

As the chariot came to a halt at the steps of the grand Temple of Mars Ultor, young girls dressed in flowing white tunics and crowned with fresh flowers scattered rose petals in his path. He ascended the steps with measured strides, the marble beneath his feet gleaming in the sunlight.  

You stood among the other servants, the weight of a velvet pillow in your hands anchoring you to the moment. Atop the pillow rested a crown of golden laurels, shimmering with the promise of empty glory. Senator Gracchus had arranged for you to present it, an honor you neither wanted nor could refuse. Your palms were damp with nerves, but it wasn’t fear of the crowd or ceremony that unsettled you. It was the cruel spectacle of it all—the emperors reveling in their power while Rome decayed beneath their feet.  

Marcus reached the top of the steps, standing before the twin emperors. Geta, younger and deceptively charming, gestured to the approaching general. Caracalla, brooding and sharp-featured, watched with an intensity that made the scene feel like a predator sizing up prey.  

Marcus placed a fist over his heart in the Roman salutatio, nodding first to one and then the other. “Emperor Geta,” he began, his voice steady. He turned his gaze to the other. “Emperor Caracalla.”  

“General Acacius,” Geta replied with a wide, practiced smile.  

Marcus straightened, his tone humble yet firm. “I have taken Numidia in your names. Your dominion may yet eclipse that of every emperor who came before you.”  

Caracalla smirked, gesturing lazily to you with a flick of his hand. “Crown him with laurels, brother.”  

Your heart leapt as all eyes turned to you. You stepped forward, forcing yourself to keep your movements measured. Bowing your head slightly, you presented the pillow to Geta. He took the crown, sparing you no more than a dismissive glance, and you retreated quickly, blending back into the shadows as the ceremony continued.  

Geta placed the golden laurels atop Marcus’s salt-and-pepper curls, his smile widening as the crowd erupted in cheers. The senators clapped politely, their faces masks of approval, though you wondered how many of them truly celebrated the general's return.  

The procession moved inside the temple, where the grandeur of marble columns and gilded statues loomed over the gathering. You lingered near the edges of the hall, half-hidden among other attendants. Your eyes were drawn to Marcus, who stood surrounded by Rome’s elite yet seemed entirely apart from them.  

Geta approached Marcus with two chalices of wine, his gait almost casual. “In honor of your conquest, there will be games in the Colosseum,” he said, handing one to the general.  

Marcus accepted it with a polite nod, though his expression remained neutral. “I require no games in my honor. Serving the senate and the people of Rome is honor enough for me.”  

He raised the chalice to toast, but Geta pulled his cup back with a sharp laugh. “You are too modest, Acacius. It does not suit a general as accomplished as yourself.” He clinked their glasses together before Marcus could respond, his tone dripping with mockery.  

“The glory is yours, not mine,” Marcus replied, his words measured. “I only ask for respite from war. To spend time with…” His voice trailed off as his gaze flickered briefly—so briefly—toward you.  

Your breath hitched, the moment so fleeting that you questioned whether it had happened at all.  

Caracalla, lounging nearby, smirked. “Time for what, general? Gardens and poetry? Or something sweeter?”  

Geta ignored his brother, moving to a table where a long ceremonial sword rested. He lifted it, examining the blade with a predatory gleam in his eyes. “There are victories yet to come, Acacius.”  

He turned back toward the general, raising the sword as if to knight him. Lightly, he tapped Marcus’s shoulders, then paused, the blade hovering near his neck.  

“Persia. India. Both must be conquered.”  

With a slow, deliberate motion, Geta pressed the edge of the blade against Marcus’s neck, the sharp metal breaking skin just enough to draw a thin line of blood.  

Marcus didn’t flinch, though his expression darkened. His voice was low, steady, and cold. “Rome has so many subjects. She must feed them.”  

He swatted the blade away from his neck, a flicker of defiance passing between him and the emperor.  

Caracalla’s laugh rang out, sharp and cruel. “They can eat war!”  

Geta let the sword clatter to the floor, the sound echoing across the hall. “Your triumphs will be celebrated, General Acacius,” he said, his tone pointed. “As a tribute to the greatness of the Roman people.”  

He extended his hand, adorned with gaudy rings, and Marcus had no choice but to bow and kiss it. You saw the flicker of disdain in his eyes even as his lips brushed the emperor’s hand.  

From your shadowed corner, your heart ached for him. For the man who bore the weight of Rome’s sins with a quiet dignity that deserved so much more than the cruelty of its rulers.  

VILLA DI DOMITIA LUCILLA — NIGHT  

The villa perched on the outskirts of Rome exuded a quiet elegance, its columns and arches glowing under the pale light of the moon. The night was thick with fog, curling like tendrils of smoke through the cypress trees that lined the estate. A gentle breeze carried the scent of rosemary and lavender from the gardens, mingling with the faint hum of nocturnal life.  

Inside, the villa was equally serene. Lucilla, ever gracious, had agreed to host you at the request of Senator Gracchus. The senator had claimed it was “more appropriate” for you to stay under her care, given the delicate balance of Roman customs and the constant scrutiny of the twin emperors. In truth, you suspected it was also for your safety. Lucilla’s influence, though quietly wielded, was a shield few dared to challenge.  

The villa was warm and inviting, a haven amidst the chaos of Rome. Yet, even as you settled into your temporary quarters, a restlessness stirred within you. You missed the simplicity of your small home, the steady rhythm of your work. Here, despite Lucilla’s kindness, you felt like a guest in gilded captivity.  

Meanwhile, Marcus Acacius found himself battling his own restlessness. When he learned you were staying with Lucilla, the knowledge sparked an idea he could hardly ignore. Though he was no stranger to the villa—it was a place he visited often as a long-time confidant of Lucilla—tonight, his reasons for coming were far from casual.  

He rode through the foggy night, his steed's hooves echoing against the stone-paved road. The air was cold, biting against his cheeks, but he barely noticed. Two of his guards flanked him, silent and watchful as shadows.  

When he reached the gates of the villa, a sentry stepped forward, his spear raised in a show of duty. “Halt! Who goes there?”  

The torchlight illuminated Marcus’s face, and recognition dawned on the guard. His stance shifted immediately. Placing a fist over his heart, he bowed. “General.”  

“Open the gates,” Marcus commanded, his voice steady but not unkind.  

The heavy iron gates creaked open, and Marcus dismounted his steed with practiced ease. A stable boy rushed forward to take the reins, bowing quickly before leading the horse away. Marcus adjusted his cloak, brushing off the dampness of the night, and stepped into the villa’s grounds.  

Inside, Lucilla greeted him in the atrium, her dark hair cascading over her shoulders and her sharp eyes glinting with curiosity. “Marcus,” she said warmly, though there was a knowing lilt to her tone. “I wasn’t expecting you tonight.”  

“I hope I’m not intruding,” Marcus replied, his lips curving into a polite smile. “I was nearby and thought it prudent to pay a visit.”  

“Nearby?” Lucilla arched an elegant brow. “Unless the general has taken to wandering the countryside aimlessly at night, I suspect there’s more to this visit than proximity.”  

Marcus didn’t answer immediately, his eyes scanning the villa’s hall. It was quieter than usual, the stillness broken only by the faint crackle of torches and the murmur of distant voices.  

Lucilla stepped closer, her expression softening. “She’s in the east wing,” she said, her voice dropping slightly.  

Marcus turned to her, his gaze sharp. “Who?”  

Lucilla smirked, crossing her arms. “You didn’t ride through the night for me, Marcus. Don’t insult my intelligence.”  

He chuckled softly, shaking his head. “You always see through me, Lucilla.”  

“It’s a gift,” she quipped, then gestured toward the hallway. “Go. But don’t wake the entire villa with your heavy boots.”  

Marcus inclined his head in thanks before making his way toward the east wing. The soft glow of oil lamps guided his path, casting flickering shadows on the walls. As he approached your quarters, his steps slowed.  

You were seated by the window, a soft blanket draped over your shoulders, gazing out at the misty garden. The stillness of the night felt fragile, like it might shatter at the slightest sound. The dim light of the oil lamp beside you softened your features, though weariness lingered in your eyes.  

A soft clearing of a throat broke the silence, low but deliberate.  

You turned quickly, your heart skipping at the unexpected intrusion. “General Acacius?”  

He leaned against the doorway, his armor traded for a plain, white tunic and dark cloak that suited the quiet of the night. His lips curled into a faint smirk. “My lady.”  

“I am no lady, General,” you corrected, your brow arching slightly.  

“Marcus,” he said, stepping into the room with a deliberate grace. “And I didn’t mean to disturb you.”  

“You didn’t,” you replied, though the confusion in your voice was evident. “What brings you here at this hour?”  

For a moment, he hesitated, as if weighing his words. Then, with a slight shrug, he said, “I wanted to ensure you were settling in comfortably. Lucilla’s hospitality can be... unique.”  

A faint smile tugged at your lips. “It’s generous, though I can’t help but feel a bit out of place.”  

Marcus nodded, his expression thoughtful. “This villa has always felt like a sanctuary. But I know it can be difficult to find peace in unfamiliar surroundings.”  

For a while, silence stretched between you. The weight of the world outside the villa—Rome’s cruelty, the constant tension—seemed to press lightly against the walls, but here, in this moment, the quiet was soothing.  

“Did you really ride all this way just to check on me?” you asked, a teasing note in your voice that broke through the stillness.  

His lips twitched, the beginnings of a smile warming his face. “Would you believe me if I said yes?”  

You tilted your head, studying him carefully, your gaze soft but sharp. “I might.”  

He stepped closer, the flickering light of the lamp catching the faintest glimmer in his dark eyes. His expression, though tempered by years of military discipline, held a warmth that made your heart skip.  

“Good,” he murmured, his voice low and steady.  

The room seemed smaller suddenly, the air charged with something unspoken. You cleared your throat, shifting slightly, your hands clutching at the fabric of your skirts as if to anchor yourself.  

“I thank the gods that brought you back home safe,” you said, your voice quieter now, tinged with something deeper.  

Marcus’s gaze didn’t falter. “Thank the army,” he replied humbly. “They protected me.”  

You nodded, acknowledging his words. “You must be hungry, then?”  

He raised a brow, clearly amused by the shift in the conversation, but he didn’t resist. “It has been a long ride.”  

Turning, you glanced toward the servant standing silently near the doorway. You offered her an apologetic smile, and she nodded in understanding before quietly leaving the room to fetch food and drink.  

As the door closed behind her, you turned back to Marcus. “It’s the least I can offer after you came all this way.”  

His lips twitched again, his faint smile now fully formed. “You’ve already offered more than you know.”  

You blinked, tilting your head in quiet curiosity. “What do you mean?”  

“Your kindness,” he said simply, stepping closer still. “It’s rare in Rome. Even rarer in my world.”  

Your cheeks warmed under his steady gaze, and you quickly turned your attention back to the window, hoping the dim light would hide your reaction. “I only do what anyone should.”  

“Perhaps,” he said softly, “but not everyone does.”  

The sincerity in his voice sent a flutter through your chest. When you finally looked back at him, he was closer now, his presence commanding but not overwhelming.  

“You’re too generous with your praise, Marcus,” you said, though the words felt light, almost teasing.  

“And you’re far too modest,” he countered, the smirk returning to his lips.  

The sound of footsteps approaching signaled the servant’s return, breaking the charged silence between you. She entered with a tray of fruit, bread, and wine, placing it on the small table by the window before bowing and retreating once more.  

You gestured toward the table, a soft smile gracing your lips. “Please, sit. You’ve had a long day.”  

Marcus inclined his head, his expression grateful as he took the seat opposite you. The light from the lamp flickered between you, casting long shadows on the walls.  

As you poured wine into two cups, the flickering lamplight caught the soft curve of your profile, drawing his gaze. Marcus watched you, his expression thoughtful, warm, and just a little too intense.  

“You should know,” he began, his voice low and deliberate, “this isn’t just about ensuring you’re comfortable.”  

Your hands hesitated for the briefest moment before continuing their task, but the air in the room seemed to thicken. You glanced up at him, your brow arching as you placed one of the cups in front of him. “Have you finally come to your senses and decided to arrest me? For treating those the Senate deems unworthy of saving?”  

The corner of his mouth twitched, a wry, fleeting almost-smile. “No.”  

You leaned back slightly, folding your arms across your chest, your head tilting in mock suspicion. “Then perhaps you’ve come to lecture me? To remind me how dangerous it is to meddle in things beyond my station?”  

His gaze softened, the warmth in it almost unsettling. “Do you think so little of me?”  

The teasing edge in your posture faltered for just a moment before you quickly recovered, glancing down into your own cup. “You’re a General, Marcus. You’re loyal to Rome. To the Senate. My work…” You shrugged, trying to sound casual despite the weight in your voice. “It doesn’t exactly align with the ideals of your empire.”  

Marcus reached for his cup, his hand brushing briefly, almost imperceptibly, against the edge of yours. “You’re right,” he said finally, his tone unreadable.  

Your gaze snapped to his, surprised. “I am?”  

“You don’t align with the empire,” he continued, taking a slow sip of the wine. “You stand above it. You see its flaws and still choose to fight for what’s right, even when it’s dangerous. Even when it puts you at risk.”  

The words struck something deep within you, leaving you momentarily at a loss. You hadn’t expected that—his understanding, his admiration.  

“And you don’t find that... infuriating?” you asked, trying to mask the tremor in your voice with a wry smile.  

“Infuriating?” he echoed, setting the cup down. “No.” His gaze held yours, steady and unyielding. “It’s extraordinary.”  

A sudden heat rushed to your cheeks, and you turned your attention to the fire crackling softly in the hearth. “You’re far too kind, General.”  

“Marcus,” he corrected gently, leaning forward.  

“Marcus,” you repeated, the name tasting unfamiliar on your tongue, though not unpleasant.  

He smiled faintly, as if satisfied. “And I’m not being kind—I’m being honest. Too few in this city have the courage to act as you do. Even fewer have the heart.”  

You looked back at him, searching his face for any trace of insincerity and finding none. The man before you wasn’t the untouchable war hero paraded through Rome’s streets. He was something quieter, something deeper.  

“And what about you?” you asked softly. “Aren’t you tired of all this? The battles, the politics, the endless expectations?”  

His expression shifted, a shadow passing over his features. “More than you could ever know.”  

The quiet confession hung between you, delicate and heavy all at once.  

“Then why not walk away?” you pressed, your voice barely above a whisper.  

He gave a low, humorless laugh, running a hand through his curly hair. “And go where? Rome would never let me go, even if I wanted to. And…” He hesitated, his gaze flicking briefly to you before settling on the fire. “There are reasons to stay.”  

Your breath caught at the implication, but you forced yourself to keep your tone light. “Duty, I suppose?”  

His eyes met yours again, darker now, more intense. “Something like that.”  

The weight of his words pressed against your chest, and you found yourself wondering if he could hear the sudden quickening of your heart.  

“I’m not sure I understand you, Marcus,” you said quietly, the teasing edge gone from your voice.  

“Good,” he replied, a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth. “I’d hate to be predictable.”  

You couldn’t help but smile at that, shaking your head as you finally took a sip of your wine. “You’re certainly not that.”  

The room fell into a companionable silence, the crackling of the fire and the distant chirping of crickets filling the space. For the first time in what felt like an eternity, the weight of the world seemed to lift, if only slightly.  

“Thank you,” you said after a while, your voice soft but sincere.  

He tilted his head, his brow furrowing slightly. “For what?”  

“For coming,” you replied, meeting his gaze. “For… for seeing me. Not just tonight, but—” You hesitated, searching for the right words. “For seeing me as more than what Rome would make me.”  

His expression softened, and for a moment, the guardedness in his eyes melted away, replaced by something unspoken but undeniable. “It’s impossible not to.”  

The words wrapped around your heart, and for a fleeting moment, you allowed yourself to believe them.  

“At times, I wish you would abandon all of this,” you said softly, your voice trembling with honesty. “The wars. The blood. The service to men who deserve none of it.”  

Marcus’s jaw tightened, the muscle there twitching before he answered. “I’ve made my choice,” he said, his tone resolute, but there was a flicker of weariness in his eyes. “I can live with it. But my patience with them is at an end.”  

You glanced toward the far corner of the room, where Leta, the ever-watchful servant, lingered. Offering her a kind smile, you said, “Leta, you may go to your quarters now. We’ll need nothing more this evening.”  

Leta hesitated, her gaze flickering between the two of you, but at your gentle nod, she smiled and curtsied, before slipping out, leaving the room steeped in a quiet intimacy.  

Marcus exhaled deeply, as if the act of speaking had been weighing on him. He set his cup down on the nearby table across from you, his broad shoulders hunched slightly as though bearing the weight of Rome itself. “To hear wives and mothers mourning their dead on that beach of Numidia…” His voice was low, rough with emotion. He scoffed bitterly and ran a hand through his hair. “No more. I will not waste another generation of young men for their vanity. If I fight another campaign…” His gaze hardened, a fire igniting in his eyes. “It must be to depose them.”

Your breath hitched at the words. “You’re telling me this… why?” you asked carefully. “We’ve met only briefly. Why would you trust me with something so dangerous?”  

He leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees, his intense gaze locking onto yours. “Am I wrong to assume that Senator Gracchus and Lucilla have been whispering thoughts not unlike my own? That Rome deserves better than two tyrants playing at being gods?”  

You hesitated, your lips quirking slightly to the side as you considered your answer. Finally, you gave him a small nod. “You’re not wrong. The whispers grow louder with each passing day.”  

For a moment, the room was silent save for the crackle of the fire in the hearth. You licked your lips nervously and took a steadying breath. Meeting his eyes, you asked, “When will your troops arrive?”  

“They’ll land in Ostia in ten days,” he replied, his voice low and firm.  

You nodded, your mind already calculating the implications. “How many will be loyal to you? To you alone?”  

“All of them,” he said without hesitation. “Many of them owe their lives to you, as I’ve heard it. Your words of wisdom, your care in the camps—they remember. Soldiers don’t forget kindness, especially in a world so devoid of it.”  

Your cheeks flushed at his words, but you pressed on. “The emperors have lost the people’s support,” you said, your voice heavy with conviction. “The citizens are weary of their madness, their tyranny. What is the dream of Rome if our people are not free?”  

Marcus let out a long sigh, the weight of the truth settling over him. “A dream deferred,” he murmured. “But not lost. Not yet.”  

The silence that followed was charged, the enormity of what lay ahead pressing upon both of you. You searched his face, seeing the resolute determination of a soldier but also the quiet yearning of a man who had seen too much, endured too much.  

“And what of you?” he asked, his voice softer now. “If the tide turns, if the gods will it… what would your dream of Rome be?”  

You hesitated, the question catching you off guard. “A Rome where compassion isn’t a weakness. Where the people, not the emperors, hold the power. A Rome where no child grows up in fear of a tyrant’s whim.”  

His gaze softened, and for a moment, the hardened lines of his face eased. “That’s a dream worth fighting for,” he said quietly.  

You gave him a small, tentative smile. “And worth surviving for.”  

The words lingered in the air between you, a shared understanding forming in the flickering light. Neither of you dared to say it outright, but the unspoken promise was clear: whatever lay ahead, you would not face it alone.  

[vodika-vibes]

This Love

Summary: Rex never thought that he would fall in love, to him it was something for other people, not him. He’s never been so happy to be wrong in his life.

Pairing: Captain Rex x F!Reader

Word Count: 668

Warnings: Smutty-ish

A/N: This is short, but I'm tired and can't do any more than this today. I hope you all like it.

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Rex slowly trails his finger down the bare back of the woman sleeping peacefully against his chest. She’s soft, and he can’t seem to stop himself from touching her, though she doesn’t seem to mind as she hasn’t stirred from her slumber yet.

He didn’t mean to spend the night.

He had planned to drop her off at the front door, and then head back to the barracks. But when she took his hand in hers and asked if he would like to come inside for some caf and cake, Rex had been unable to say no.

He hadn’t been able to keep himself from kissing her after they finished their cake, and he hadn’t been able to stop himself from pulling her to straddle his lap.

And, when she asked him to spend the night with a shy smile on her face, Rex hadn’t been able to say no to that either.

Which directly led to this. Him naked in her bed with her head resting on his chest, and both of them covered in bite marks, bruises, and scratches. They had both been a lot eager the night before.

Though now he feels bad for all of the marks he left on her body. 

His fingers lightly trail down her back and then back up to trace light shapes against the back of her neck, and she finally stirs awake with a groan. She presses her nose against his chest, likely to try and force herself back to sleep, but then she turns her head and peers up at him through sleepy eyes.

“Morning,” She mumbles.

Rex smiles at her and trails his fingers to her cheek, “Good morning,” He replies, “Did you sleep well?”

She hums in confirmation as her eyes drift shut again. Rex’s grin widens as she snuggles into his chest with a content sigh, “Didn’t expect you to stay until morning,” She admits sleepily.

“I didn’t expect to stay this long either,” he admits as well, “But I couldn’t leave when I saw you sleeping.” His comment is rewarded with a bright, but tired, smile and Rex’s heart does a flip.

“I’m glad you’re still here.” She whispers as she slides up his body so that she’s able to kiss him. 

Rex responds immediately, his arms folding tightly around her as he deepens the kiss. This, right here, is what got him in trouble last night, but he’s apparently a weak man when it comes to her.

“I’m glad I stayed too,” He mumbles against her lips as his hands slide down to her hips, adjusting her so she’s straddling him once again, “How are you feeling?”

“I feel really, really good.” She replies as she grinds down against his hardening cock.

Rex chuckles and pulls her into a deep kiss, his tongue sliding against hers as he maps out her mouth again. He should stop this before it gets too far, he has to work today.

However, instead, he flips her so she’s under him and he smoothly pins her hands over her head. “I’m going to be so late for work.” He breathes out.

Her smile is warm, “We can stop.”

“I didn’t say that,” He grins at her, “I think I deserve to take the day off.”

She giggles and threads her fingers, “I agree.”

Rex stares at her for a moment, and then he leans in and kisses her, “I love you, cyar’ika.”

Her entire face brightens at his words, and Rex’s heart lurches with painful affection. “I love you too,” and those four little words make Rex realize that he’s fucked.

He’ll fight for her, for them, against anyone who tries to stand against them. And he knows that he’ll have his brothers on his side.

With that last thought, Rex leans in and crashes his lips against hers.

Any further conversation is unnecessary as Rex spends the majority of the morning, and well into the afternoon, physically proving that he’s been genetically altered for increased stamina.

@n0vqni

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@continous-mistakes

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@sweater-sloot

@heidnspeak

@wax-birds

@silly-starfish

@lonewolflupe

@maniacalbooper

@rebell-ious

[sammakesart]

In Which the Dread Wolf Is Saved By, of All Things, Love.

The blade slices into his palm, blood seeping from the wound and soaking into the leather of his glove. A thought emerges as she watches him: It is the same hand that once held the mark on her own palm. He squeezes his fist, the blood dripping down onto the stone. 

“My life force now sustains the Veil.”

His eyes find hers, a brief moment as their gazes meet and hold. An eternity, over too soon. 

“With every breath I take, I will protect the innocent from my past failures.”

Her gaze falls to his fist, and her heart aches. It is done.

“The Titan’s dreams are mad from their imprisonment. I cannot kill the blight, but I can help soothe its anger.”

She watches as he looks down to the dagger, then extends it to Rook.

“I will go,” he says. His eyes meet hers once more as he speaks his last words. To her. For her. “And seek atonement.”

He tears his gaze away, and she watches as he turns, his steps sure and steady as he walks toward the tear in the sky.

They are running out of time.

It is then she makes her decision, though it was no decision at all. She knew—she has always known—what she would do given this choice. 

“But you do not have to go alone.”

He had stopped before she spoke, perhaps hearing the fall of her steps, perhaps in the hope of one final goodbye. He turns as she finishes her declaration, his lips parted in surprise, but he clasps her hands as she stretches them towards him. His grip trembles ever so slightly. She notices the shine in his eyes as tears well, but he does not deny her. He only offers her a warning. It is the only thing he can offer her. 

“Where I am going is terrible.”

She smiles, shakes her shake. 

“It won’t be terrible if you’re with me. We make this journey together. Always.”

The words are reminiscent of the last verse of Dalish wedding vows. She wonders if he catches the significance, but by the way his grip tightens, she suspects he understands. 

She leans in, but then stops, waiting for him to close the last stretch of space between them. His lips meet hers without hesitation, cracked and bloody as they are. She doesn’t care. He tastes of iron and ash, and yet still of him. 

His mouth moves against hers, and she wishes to wrap her arms around him, to pull him close, but she fears causing him any further pain. She has seen the wounds on his face, saw him clutching at his right side as he ascended the steps before she crossed the threshold. She can only imagine the wounds hidden beneath his battered armor. She had glimpsed the state of his dread wolf as it tore the throat out of Elgar’nan’s archdemon. 

There will be time for such things later, after he has rested and healed. Time will never be something they are in want of now.

***

He savors her for as long as he dares, then presses his lips firmly against hers before pulling away. His mouth curves into a soft smile. Just for her. 

There is no force—divine or otherwise—that can part him from her now. Not unless she wishes it.

He holds her gaze for one more moment, the burn of tears still threatening to spill sting his eyes. But he blinks them away quickly, and glances back at Rook. 

“Thank you, Rook.”

Then his eyes fall back to her. He cannot get enough. 

He is not unaware that Rook had to have had a part to play in this once-thought impossible reunion. 

There will never be words or action enough to show his gratitude, especially to someone he has so gravely wronged. And yet, they still have orchestrated the return of his heart to him. A gift he knows he does not deserve, but he will endeavor to earn. 

He squeezes her hands once more—one flesh, one formed—and turns, walking towards the last remaining tear in the Veil. He crosses his hands before him to keep from reaching out, reaching back to hold her to him. She must make this choice freely. 

He doesn’t even dare look, afraid if he does, he will find no one and nothing. That these last few minutes have all been a dream conjured by his addled mind and his bone-deep exhaustion—for what else could it be but a dream? That, after all this time, after everything he’s done, she would seek him out once more. That she would forgive him. Love him still. Choose to be with him, despite where he must go. 

There is a moment where he fears she has changed her mind, or he was correct in his first assumption that she was never here at all. His chest tightens… and then releases as he feels her hand rest upon his shoulder. She is here. She is real. 

With the last ounce of strength he has, he wraps them in his magic and spirits them into the Fade, leaving her world behind. Perhaps for good. 

He took away her ability to choose once, many years ago, when she first asked to join him while standing in the Crossroads. It had torn him in two to deny her, but he knew then that he could not allow her to follow the path he had to tread. Could not allow it to twist her hope into despair, like his own purpose had been twisted long ago. 

For so long, his life has only been duty and destruction. He is unsure of how to be anything else.

When he finds himself once again in the prison of his own making, his knees give out from under him. The weight of the last few hours, few weeks, few years, dragging him to the hard unforgiving stone of his regrets. But this time, he is not alone. 

She kneels before him, carefully cradling his face in her palm, her skin so warm against his. “Vhenan,” she whispers as her thumb strokes lightly over his cheek, and it takes him a moment to realize he is crying, truly crying. The tears that had threatened to fall when he first took her hands in his have now been set free. He crumples into her lap, his forehead pressed the against her stomach as she gently strokes his head and down his back, offering words of comfort, her voice thick with her own tears. She has saved him. He has doomed her. 

The weight of that realization is enough to crush him to dust. He pulls back, eyes searching hers. His hands shake as he reaches up to hold her face. Perhaps there is still time…

“These are my burdens to bare,” he rasps. “I cannot ask you to carry them with me.” 

“You do not have to, vhenan.” She holds his hand to her cheek. “I chose this. Freely. Just as I chose you.”

She presses a kiss to the heel of his hand, the one still wet with his blood. “Being with you is no burden, Solas, not to me. It is a joy.”

Their foreheads meet, pressed together as they once again take each other’s hands.

She is here. She is real. He still cannot believe it.

“Ar lath ma, vhenan.”

Then he says the words she had gifted him, a vow he will hold sacred for as long as they both shall live. 

“Vir shiral malasa. Bellanaris.”

[shrimshrim4fun]

Headcanons for Camellya:

Note: How do I see nothing about her 😭 Nobody writes about her, does nobody want content about her? I’m planning on posting about her more this week, anybody interested at all 😓

SFW:

-A very bit tease. Makes light jokes about how you do certain things but cannot handle other people teasing you. Even if it’s jokingly, she will glare at them and is proabably planning how she’s gonna torture them

-Loves clinging onto you especially when she’s napping. The vines from her body sprout out and wrap around you to keep you close not wanting you to leave. Her head usually pressed up against your chest as you both lay in the sun

-Your house is now filled with different flowers and plants. So many flowers everywhere. Even though there are so many the scent is pleasant like an alluring perfume. She loves it when you help take care of them with her. “How considerate of you, helping me water all of them. I hope you’re as excited as I am waiting for them to bloom…”

-Hates it when you’re out of her sight. She’ll find some way to keep track of where you’re going. In some way absolutely despises all your friends saying that they’re keeping you away from her and that you should get rid of them. Shes also really possessive always having a hand around you in public or clinging onto you. She’s obsessed and hates when you leave her side. “They’re trying to deprive me of the one thing that can make me happy. Oh isn’t it so mean of them…but don’t worry I can make them all poof if you let me”

-Sometimes she gets hurt on purpose because she knows you’ll give her extra attention that day to tend to her injuries. She never gets injuries but she’ll make injuries on herself and dismisses it if other people ask. But with you she’ll be so exaggerative when you ask her about it and you’re the only one that she allows to treat her injuries. She love seeing the worried look on your face as if you actually cared. Usually these injuries are large and bloody. She’ll look at you fondly with a smug smile on her face as you tend to them. “Aren’t you gonna kiss them well? I promise that I’ll feel 100 times better if you kiss it better for me”

NSFW:

-Very expressive and loud. She doesn’t care if others can hear her, she’ll only giggle before getting louder. Will tell you how much she loves what you’re doing and how happy she is. “Oh yes~ you’re so good it’s making me crave more…MORE”

-A massive masochist. Love any and all pain you inflict onto her. The more it hurts the better. Temperature play, whipping, paddles, anything you want. Probably a sadist as well but more enjoys it when you inflict it onto her. She moans so much more every time you cause pain on her body. Will stare at herself in the mirror afterward to admire your work.

-Loves leaving marks on your body especially if it’s any that someone else can see like hickeys on your neck. So so so many claw marks on your back. A lot of the time she draws blood on these marking and will lick the blood away. Loving the metallic taste in her mouth. After sex, she sometimes stares at them with a proud smile. Isn’t too much of a biter but will occasionally nip your neck to catch you off guard. “Oh your even more beautiful like this, I wish to make you bleed my dear~”

-Mirror sex is a huge turn on for her. When you bend her over and slam the strap into her ass. My hand tugging her hair up as she sees herself in the mirror. The saliva slipping down the side of her mouth and how messy you two are entangled together like two vines.

-Aftercare consists a hot bath together and laying in bed. Usually with her laying against her, as she traces the red claw marks on your back as she hums softly. Your hand gently rubbing her back as you reassure her. The smell of her shampoo engulfs your senses as you nuzzle into her neck

[folksy]

how do you cure guilt for when you feel guilty about literally every single thing you do because I feel like acid is eating me up inside from all the constant guilt I have

[chuluoyi]

𝐁𝐀𝐍𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐄𝐗𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄

- sylus x reader

you and your lover are hailed and feared, but who would have guessed that behind closed doors, both of you are just that — lovers?

genre/warnings: very suggestive, making out, fluff, comfort, period cramps, assassin!reader (not l&ds mc), loosely based on sylus' secret times: midnight warmth & exclusive care!

note: very self-indulgent bye pls don't look at me :') this fic is a companion to assassin!reader series (strictly (un)professional and jealousy incarnate)

“Who’s ther— lord! Missus! What happened to you!?”

On a rainy night, you staggered into the base, drenched and covered with dirt. Your steps were unsteady as you made your way through the front door, and the first person to see you, Luke, was so shocked by the sight that he rushed to your side.

“Kieran! Call Boss!” he shouted to his twin, who immediately sprinted off to find him, steadying you. “Are you injured?”

“No,” you hissed, wincing as you clutched your abdomen. “Let go, I’m fine—” But before you could finish, you missed a step and—

—fell into Luke's arms.

In that very instant, Luke genuinely feared for his life. He squeaked and stammered, incoherent sounds escaping him, because oh lord— if Boss sees me ever touching his woman—

“What are you doing?”

And there came his nightmare. Sylus’ deep voice cut through like a blade, marking the arrival of doomsday itself.

“B-Boss! It isn’t what it looks like!” Luke quivered, desperately trying to explain himself.

However, Sylus paid him no mind and exhaled sharply, immediately moving over to pull you out of Luke’s grasp. “Are you hurt?”

“I’m fine!” you insisted, pulling away from him while staggering. “I’m not wounded or anything. Just... I just need a bath, please.”

Sylus eyed you from top to bottom. You had just been out for a reconnaissance, and yet you looked as though you had been through a tornado and back. Disheveled, your dress was smeared with mud and dirt, and even grime clung to your hair.

“Did you fall into a sewer or something?” he questioned, and he knew he had hit a nerve when you shot him a glare.

But you spared him no answer, walking away with labored breaths and a hand pressed against your lower belly. It was clear you were in pain, and the sight tugged at him as he followed you.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, his concern growing. “What hurts?”

“You don’t have to fuss over me—” your breath hitched, feeling exhausted, and ashamed all at once. “Just my period, nothing much,” you murmured in a quieter voice so the twins wouldn’t hear.

As you reached the stairs to the second floor, you felt like collapsing. Did you really have to climb these stairs, too?

As if reading your mind, Sylus let out a sigh, but you nearly squealed when he lifted you into his arms.

“You’ll get dirty!” you rebuked, even as he took large strides up the stairs. “Sylus!”

“Just hold onto me.” He shot you a pointed look. “You can’t even walk without gasping for air, and you still want to climb the stairs? You’ll end up rolling and breaking your back.”

Despite your protests, your lover immediately brought you to his bathroom and sat you down on the sink. He turned the hot water on and then faced you.

“So? What did you get yourself into?” he asked, his red eyes narrowing in dissatisfaction. “You were fine, and you didn’t face anyone.”

You pressed your eyes shut, leaning against the wall, resigned to explain. “Fell into mud. Totally idiotic, I know, but my cramps started right before, so…”

“I don’t recall you experiencing this before. What brought this on?”

You met his gaze indignantly, retorting, “Well, a certain someone banged me so hard last night, and I got my period right after.”

It was quite unexpected, but still answered his concern. So, to that, Sylus snorted and tousled your hair, a playful twinkle in his eyes. “Ah, sorry, I guess?”

You pursed your lips, aware of how unapologetic he was. He smirked and added, “Now that I’m dirty too... I suppose we’ll have to take a bath together.”

“Are you mad? Do you want to get covered in my blood?”

He shrugged nonchalantly. “Why not—”

“No,” you retorted firmly, clearly irked. “You take the bath after me, and that’s final.”

. . .

“Put your arm around my neck,” Sylus commanded when you both emerged from the bath and already dressed in silk bathrobes. You complied, and he swiftly lifted you into a princess carry, bringing you to the bed.

Despite yourself, your heart fluttered at his action. He set you down gently, and the moment your back met the soft surface, you relished it and let out an involuntary moan. “Ahh...”

Your voice was soft and sultry, though tinged with a hint of pain. Sylus placed his hand gently on your face. “Your cheeks are warm,” he noted. “And you still look pale.”

"Mmm," you mumbled, suddenly the total fatigue catching up to you as you leaned into his touch. Seeing you so pliant like this seemed to flip a switch inside him, and he immediately settled next to you and placed his huge hand on your lower belly, pressing down on it.

“What are you doing?” you frowned.

“I’m giving you a massage,” he replied. “Stop squirming. I’m trying to pamper you here.”

“You don’t have to…”

“My woman is in enough pain that she doesn’t talk back to me. It’s feels off.”

“...actually, you suck. You’re too rough.”

Taking your whine into account, he adjusted his touch, softening his pressure. "How is it? Better?"

You didn’t immediately reply, indulging in the warm sensation, letting out a sigh as you squeezed your eyes shut. “Mm... Yeah, it feels good now. Don’t stop…”

There was something quietly erotic about watching you, usually so defiant, surrender to his touch like this. Sylus felt a deep, protective satisfaction as he continued his gentle ministrations—

But after a while...

Before he could stop himself, he leaned in, pulling you closer as he buried his face in your shoulder, inhaling deeply, savoring the scent of the bath foam you had just shared. “Mmm…”

You were caught off-guard and shivered at his breath tickling your skin, eyes fluttering open. “Sylus…” you murmured, a mix of protest and surprise in your voice.

But he didn’t pull away, his lips lingering against your skin, his gaze fixed on your bare neck, whispering, “Just relax. I’ve got you.”

Then, when he suddenly nibbled on your neck, you jolted awake. The gentle bite on your sensitive skin sent another shiver down your spine, stirring a mix of warmth that made your pulse race.

But he didn't stop there, as Sylus trailed your neck with a series of kisses and wet sucks, his breath hot against your skin. Soon, the only sounds filling the room were his quiet sighs and the soft noises of his lips as he continued to bite and pepper kisses on your skin, over and over.

“Ngh…” Each touch left you almost breathless, and the heat between you growing with every passing moment, making your toes curl and you moan softly by his ear.

“Hold me,” he gruffly whispered, and as if bewitched, you clung to his shoulders. He let out a husky chuckle. “Not too hard, or you won't be able to sleep later.”

“And whose fault would that be?” you quipped, entangling your legs with his, savoring the warmth of his body against yours.

“I’ve spoiled you rotten, haven’t I... sweetie?” he murmured amidst kisses, his tone laced with intrigue and his burgundy eyes flashing with a glint. “Just let me have my fill for a while.”

If you had a mirror, you’d see the hickeys forming on your neck, but instead of fighting him, you pulled him closer, letting out breathy moans freely and massaging his scalp as if urging him to go further.

“Naughty vixen—you are,” Sylus rasped deliciously in your ear, thick with desire and restraint as his grip on you tightened. “Tempting me, knowing full well I can’t do anything to you…”

A low giggle slipped from your lips. “Unfortunately… I learn from the best.”

Hard to get, snarky, taunting... You were the bane of his existence, and yet Sylus wouldn't have it another way. Your defiance and teasing only deepened his affection, making every challenge you presented feel like an irresistible part of what drew him to you.

He knew when his patience was on the verge of snapping, so to end it, he sucked hard on your shoulder one last time, making sure to leave another mark there. The squelching sound reverberated through both of you, before he pulled away and planted a firm kiss on your forehead, a gesture of both dominance and fondness for you.

“Now sleep,” he grounded out. “Your body has been through enough.”

“Mngh...” you whined, curling into him in contentment, your head nestled against his toned chest where you could feel his strong, steady heartbeat. “Really unfair...”

“You're going to feel better soon...” he sighed, one hand soothing your back and the other resting on your waist. “And as soon as you do...”

A wicked grin curved his lips.

“I'll pick up where I left off.”

[leyiorr]

you and satoru decide pretty quickly that you want your daughter’s ears pierced.

she’s a gorgeous baby; bright blue eyes and soft white hair just like her father. her nose and lips are your genetic touch, and satoru insists that it’s your features that make her look so adorable.

you’d asked your husband what he thought about getting her ears pierced so young, and obviously he thought it was a great idea - his two favourite girls should match earrings.

and so, once she’s old enough, the two of you bring her to a store to get her ears done.

satoru has her sat on his lap, entertaining her as you spoke with the piercer about the placing and colour of the earrings. he talks to her like he can understand her baby babble; no one understands his daughter better than he does.

eventually, the time comes, and the piercer lines up the piercing gun with your daughter’s ear after marking the spot with temporary ink. she’s giggling gleefully, trying to grab hold of the piercer’s hair.

satou’s anxiety is on high, he doesn’t want his daughter to flinch and cause an injury that no one wants. the peircer seems nice enough though, and her friendly smile coupled with your hand on his shoulder and his baby’s laughter settles his nerves marginally.

but he speaks too soon.

the minute the metal pierces her skin, your daughter instantly breaks into tears, twisting her small body toward her daddy as she lets out dramatic screeches of pain. satoru’s heart sinks immediately, large hands gently trying to soothe his daughter - her tiny ones fist his shirt like a lifeline.

she cries and cries like she’s dying, and satoru feels his soul bleed.

“daddy’s sorry, baby,” he mumbles, pressing a kiss to her forehead, “it’ll go away soon. i wish i could help you, sweets.”

but she’s having none of it, crying harder when he tries to put her back into position. he feels his own eyes sting; his heart aches from being unable to take away his precious daughter’s pain.

his eyes snap up to your face, hoping you’ll have some insight on how to help her. you’re smiling fondly, softly pinching her cheeks in effort to distract her from the pain.

“don’t be dramatic,” you scold sweetly, dropping into a crouch to press sloppy kisses to her chubby cheeks.

she hiccups, letting her father’s shirt go in favour of trying to grab your nose instead. her cries turn into wet giggles within a few seconds and satoru feels relief fill his veins.

you look up at him with a raised eyebrow, “i mean you, mister.”

it takes him a full second to realize that there are tears rolling down his face, and he quickly wipes his eyes in embarrassment. he hears the piercer giggle; may the ground open up and swallow him whole.

“you’re such a baby,” you say, but your heart felt so full - your husband just cried at his daughter getting her ears pierced? you were never going to let him live that down.

satoru doesn’t say anything, obediently allowing you to tilt his head back to meet you in a kiss. through the salty taste of his tears and your fingers holding his throat he doesn’t even notice when the piercer approaches again, quietly lining up with the other dot.

she looks to you for consent, and you give a subtle nod as you continue to distract your husband with kisses. he breaks it in surprise when he feels your daughter flinch, though this time there’s no wails.

he looks down. her face is scrunched up in effort not to cry, cheeks puffed up as she looks up at her father proudly as if to say: look, daddy, i didn’t cry that time!

he feels his eyes fill up again. his head drops to rest on his daughter, kissing her all over her face and eliciting a series of giggles.

“that’s my girl,” he boasts proudly, grinning wide while bouncing her on his knee, “i knew you could do it!”

he hears you laugh from the counter, “you cried the most, satoru.”

he scoffs, picking the baby up and nuzzling his face against hers, “i don’t know how you didn’t! her cries broke my heart!”

[oreo-creampie]

“𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭’𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐟𝐚𝐢𝐫!!!”

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬! Mean!toji, hints of reader being a brat, spanking (ass/cunt), biting, praise & degradation, cock drunk/pussy drunk, thigh fucking, teasing/begging, light size kink, gagging/choking, some face fucking, manhandling you, hair pulling, pain kink, daddy/lil mama

fey: writing makes me feel like a rusty gate covered in moss that screams in protest when moved

Toji is too big! Your jaw aches whilst your eyes blur with tears. His groans as he fucks your throat is making your pussy drip.

Seeing the the tears slipping down your cheeks as you gag on his fat cock he smirks then demands, “Say that shit again, come on be a mouthy lil’ brat n’ see what fuckin’ happens.” Yanking you by your hair smacking you across the face as you gasp for air.

Your cheek sweetly sting, “‘M sorry please I won’t be a-!” Toji cuts you off by sticking two thick fingers into your mouth. You can faintly taste your cunt as you suck.

He croons, “So you wanna lie to me now?” Sliding his fingers out of your mouth, smearing your spit on your face. Toji yanks you onto your feet with a fistful of hair. “I always gotta remind you how to fuckin’ act.” He shoves you face down ass up onto your sofa.

Toji’s hands are so big and rough, fuck he’s big and rough tossing you around like you’re a doll. His thick fingers brush close to your wet cunt as he massages your cheeks. “I’m thinking I might fuck your thighs n’ cum on your pretty pussy.” Toji roughly smacks your your wet cunt three times with his large palm.

Your pussy throbs with a fiery sharp sting that two of his thick fingers ease. Toji admires how your soft lips look wrapping around his fingers. It’s sinful how he groans, “Fuck,” whilst slowly fucking you fingers with his fingers. “You’re making such a mess.”

“You don’t deserve my fingers but you have such a pretty lil’ wet cunt I wanna stretch her out n’ ruin her. Wanna hear her squelchin telling me how much she loves me when I fuck ya.”

Using all your energy to focus on getting out, “How do you know my pussy loves you?” Whilst he fucks your cunt faster, stroking your g-spot making you tremble and whine.

He smacks your ass, digging his nails in and jiggle your cheek before taking a bite. Groaning as he softly shakes his head, burying his face in your soft cheek.

Smacking the aching bite mark when he pulls away. He sneers, “By the way she gushes and squeezes my cock like she doesn’t wanna let me go.” Whining, shifting your hips, and struggling to keep your feet planted when Toji stretches your hole apart with two large fingers.

You can hear the condescending smirk in his proud tone, “N’ cause of my sharp sense of smell, I know how wet you get. Smells so fuckin’ sweet like your goin’ into heat, your little slutty cunt needs my fat cock n’ we both know it.”

Toji slowly glides his fingers out, smearing your wetness between your thighs. “Too bad I have to fuck your thighs instead.”

Clutching onto your fluffy sofa cushions, begging Toji, “Please fuck me, I wanna feel your cock!” Your cunt clenches nothing as Toji slides his warm fat cock between your thighs, he’s taunting you,just barely rubbing your clit.

Toji tightly grabs both hips to keep you from squirming. “But you will be, just not in your pussy not tonight, maybe tomorrow morning when I got morning wood. I might be feelin’ a lil nicer” His cock is so close to your cunt it’s unfair. Each steady stroke taunts you, he should be fucking your pussy like that.

Whining, “Please daddy-toji!” Grabbing his wrists, this position and now you got in it feels so lewd. He’s manhandled you, putting your ass in the air, face down into the sofa with his veiny cock in between your legs.

Toji lines himself up with your soft cunt, swiping his fat warm head along your soft wet slit. “You’re not playing fair lil mama you can’t moan that n’ expect me not to fold.” You clench up and whine when he smacks your cunt with his cock, he’s so heavy, and big.

Toji leans over you, trapping you against the sofa with your ass in the air. You moan as he glides half in head in whining he stops to croon, “Lil mama are you sure you need daddy’s cock?”

all fics

[rainstts]

Dangerous decision.ᐟ

the jjk men get a haircut when you're ovulating? yeah, it was on purpose

✰ including [separate] Nanami x reader, Gojo x reader, Toji x reader, Geto x reader, Sukuna x reader, Choso x reader, Higuruma x reader, Shiu x reader, Kusakabe x reader

✰ warnings. MDNI, fem!reader, established relationships, unprotected sex, overstímulation, bite marks + hickeys, thigh riďing, jealousy, throat fuckiŋg, dirty talk, dacryphilia, rough sëx, praise, creampıe, pet names, HEAVY breeďing, oral (m + f), degradätion (‘bìtch’ and ‘whọre’ are used), nipple play, cüm play, mean and softdom Suguru, kinda mean Toji

✰ word count. 6k (I apologise in advance)

✰ A/N. my ovulation was in control and i made everyone’s problem

──────〃✰ NANAMI KENTO

You knew that allowing your husband to have an app to track your cycle could turn into a bad idea someday. Still, you trusted Kento. What was the worst thing he could do with that anyway? Come back home after work looking incredibly handsome?

Yes. That, exactly. 

He was half an hour late, and you were laying in bed when he came with flowers and chocolate in his hands, and smelling so good. God, it made you bite your lips just from looking at him. His loose tie and the perfect suit, it was almost too much to handle, especially when he said he had brought dinner and dessert, and that he got a haircut. 

And that was an hour ago. 

Now you were sitting on Nanami’s lap, riding his dick and holding tight on his broad shoulders, your nails digging on his skin, leaving red marks all over. None of you broke eye contact, Kento was too stunned for that, mouth half open and his rough, low moans out in the open just for you, fueling that feeling in your core. 

“Keep fucking going, love. Don’t stop.” Nanami groaned, his voice a few tones lower than usual, lost in the pleasure only you could give to him, his sweet wife unable to control yourself in your fertile period. The feeling of his cock buried deep inside you making the two of you lose your strengths. His hands holding tight on your hip and waist, guiding you through it when you started to feel tired.

“That’s my good girl, that’s right…”

His fingers were digging on your skin like you were doing with him, still letting you ride him at your own pace. And you felt like you couldn’t stop. Desperate for more, your hips moved up and down, riding him like he taught you, just how he liked it, feeling your gummy walls hot against his dick and the wetness of it making the sloppy sounds echo louder around you two. It hit on the right spots, making your eyes roll back. 

“You’re doing so good, fucking yourself on my cock like this, love.” you could feel his words turning that desperate key in your brain, making your hips roll back and forth, his dick hitting the right spots that made you moan his name in that needy tone he always loved. 

“’S’Too good, Ken.”

“Yeah? Too good to use your husband as a toy, pretty girl?” He smiled, his gaze locked on his lap and the way he was filling you. His hands tightened the grip on your hips when you felt weak, and started moving you with his own strength and pace as if you weighed nothing for him. “We’re not stopping now, you’re taking it.”

“Ken- Ngh- Please!” 

“Please, what, darling?” Nanami teased, leaned in to kiss and suck on the skin of your neck when you tried to babble something back. Your words getting lost in your throat when he moved his hips up and your body down, messily fucking you. Your hands moved up his shoulders to his neck, looking into his eyes with your mouth half open. “Come on, just one more and I’ll fill you up again.”

“Mngh- I can’t- Too much, Ken!”

“Yes, you can. I can feel how tight you are already,” He whispered, never stopping his movements against you and your movements against him. Your bodies colliding against the other, making that painful, sinful pleasure almost drives you insane. “Cum f’me, and I’ll make sure you’re filled enough to give me a baby, yeah?”

“Fuckfuckfuck, Kento!”

“Cum.”

──────〃✰ GOJO SATORU

It had been hours since Satoru got home after leaving to get his monthly haircut, and he still had you open for him in your shared, messy bed. Legs spread to give him the vision he always loved, your body on display for him to do what he wanted, what you loved. His hands holding tight on your thighs to keep you quiet and open for him, while he fucked you tortuously slow. 

“Toru, please,” You moaned, your hands tightly tied up with the fabric of his blindfold. Your hips moved down to meet him, barely hiding your needs from him. It only made him smile, squeezing your thighs. “Faster. And harder, please.”

“Fuuuuck, Sugar. You still can handle it? Are’ya sure?” 

He was teasing you, it was clear in his eyes, in his tone, but fuck it, you couldn’t care less. Every thrust, every throb, every time he looked down to see his whitish cum escaping from the sides of your sensitive folds, and every time you looked up into his eyes to see that dangerously addicted glow, both of you knew you would take it. 

“I need more, please.”

“I can’t deny anything when you ask so nicely.”

He smiled, a wide, feral grin while he pushed your legs even more, his body leaning in, closer and closer when he started to push himself against your aching, full pussy, each thrust harder, deeper and faster than the other. 

Satoru had his knees on the bed, placing his weight on top of yours while he picked up the pace, fucking you so mercilessly, giving in to the feeling of how wet you were against his dick. And how you moaned his name, your needy voice, tired from the long fucking sessions he put you through. 

“Ngh- Fuck! Oh-n-God!” You could barely keep your eyes open, Satoru was addicted to the feeling of his dick inside your wet and white painted walls, pounding good down on you, his tip dangerously hitting your cervix over and over again. 

“Heh- I felt that, baby. Cumming again, aren’t’ya?”

Gojo teased, groaning and moaning shamelessly in your ear when he felt your pussy throbbing against his dick, showing the last signs of strength while he fucked you again. With his left hand on the mattress to hold the weight of his torso, he slid his right hand up by your sides, squeezing your tits, marked by his teeth with noticeable red love bites, until he reached for your nape. 

“Gotta make ya come to a good view, sweet thing.” His hand forced on your nape, your head now leaning forward when he made you open your eyes. Curved underneath his body, you could see his painfully hard cock sliding in and out your wet pussy. The sight of it making you shiver and moan louder, that same feeling building up in your core. 

“Look at how good you’re takin’ me, hm?!” 

“Toru! Don’tstopdon’tstop!” You could barely manage to get the words out of your mouth, already cumming while you said it. Pussy throbbing at each and every thrust inside, harder and harder. The sweet vision of you two connected like that making you orgasm even better. 

“Oh, fuck, fuck darling,” He moaned loud, head moving down and his lips capturing the skin of your shoulders, leaving even more hickeys all over, marking you and letting clear that your body was his. “‘M’gonna cum too, Sugar. Fill you up again, right? Take it, fucking take it!”

Tired, fucked into a mess, your right hand moved up until you touched his nape, your fingers feeling his undercut, the hair perfectly shaped, the reason you felt so needy when he came back. The reason why you were now taking one more load from him, leaving both of you tired when he pulled out, panting, just to see your body marked by his hickeys and bites, and the whitish cream leaking out of your reddish cunt.

“Perfect, Sugar.”

──────〃✰ FUSHIGURO TOJI

Toji wasn’t exactly the type to care about how he looked, but you did. And that was why you had insisted on going with him when he said he would get a haircut. There were no big changes, just a trim here and there, but, somehow, the vision got you more excited than it should. Wetter than usual. 

But Toji saw it in another way. 

His woman in a barber shop full of men looking at her as if she was a piece of meat? He wouldn’t forget that. And he didn’t. Jealousy kicked in fast, even if he tried to deny it, and now that he got you on your knees, tears running down your face and mouth open around his cock, you could see the glimpse of that possessiveness in his eyes. 

“You enjoy the attention, don’ ya?” His voice was low, not hiding his pleasure. Asking you questions when you had your mouth full, his tip brushing against your throat. He made you take it, and made you look into his eyes while doing so. “But you’re mine, mama. All mine.”

He looked insatiable for you, a hungry man, discounting everything he felt inside on your poor mouth. “All mine to fuck like this, to feel ya moaning on my cock. Thaaat’s right.” Toji’s hand touched your cheek, feeling how full he left your mouth, snickering at the thought. 

Only when you tapped his thighs, he pulled away, letting you breathe while he pulled you onto the bed. Giving you only a few seconds to recover, Toji opened your legs for him, his thumb finding the way to your needy clit quickly, and let out his rage and jealousy on your poor cunt. 

You knew what would happen to you as soon as you felt him brush his tip on your pussy, spreading your wet folds. He smirked, seeing how it throbbed in expectation for his next move, but he took his time to tease you, to fill that damn hot egotistical side of his. 

“Ya see who does that to you, don’ ya?” 

“Fuck, yes, Toji! I need you,” Your moan was somewhat desperate, your voice showing the signs of your used throat. “Pleas-”

The word got lost in your throat when he moved his hips at once, his hard girth sliding in and opening you for him. No giving time for you to loosen up, no fingering you. He used your own wetness and your saliva on his cock to move and fill you in one thrust. Hands tight on your hips to keep you quiet when you squirm, trying to move. 

“No running away now, little thing,” He groaned, leaning on top of you, his hips rolling back just to give another harsh thrust in, your body jolting in the bed. “Ya asked for it, ‘m’gonna make you take it, inch by inch.”

When your eyes met his, and you tried to speak, Toji stood straight and started fucking you mercilessly, senseless. His hips slapped against yours as his hands moved your hips slightly up. He had his head hanging back, mouth open to moan for you, taking his frustrations and anger in you. 

“Always acting like a bratty little bitch when you’re all fertile and ready for me,” A low groan escaped his mouth when he touched that sweet spot inside that made you clench and scream his name, muffled against the back of your own hand. “You won’t be actin’ like that for long, pretty girl.”

“Oh my G- Fuck, Toji! Too much, bab-”

“‘S’never too much for you, c’mon,” His fingers tightened the grip on your skin, his digits marked on you like he owned you. Your body was sensitive, the ovulation always made you feel much more, and he knew it. “‘M’gonna make them stop lookin’ at my woman.” 

“Toji! I- I’m gonna c- I’m gonn-” Your babbling only made him move harder, the sound of his skin slapping against yours was loud in the room, mixed with the wet sounds of your aching pussy and how wet you were, and coming more. Making it easier for him to slide in and out and fuck you however he wanted. 

“That’s my good girl, now I can fill you up” The man praised, stopping just enough to move you as if you were light as a feather, and sliding back inside once he had you on fours. Face down, ass up, like he so much loved. “Gotta make you a real mama and keep you just to myself.”

──────〃✰ GETO SUGURU

“How many times have I told you to behave, hm?”

His voice was low, giving you chills at every word spoken, his eyes focused on your movements on top of him. He had taught you how to ride his thigh properly, and it was his way to give you release without touching you. His way of torturing you. 

“‘M’So sorry, Sugu!” Your voice was shaky at this point, keeping your hands to yourself after he forbade you to touch him unless he said otherwise. You continued moving, rolling your hips back and forth, despite how tired you were. You still felt pleasure and wanted more. 

You wanted him inside, burying his cock in you as deep as he could, just how you loved it, but he was making you pay. Only a moment of jealousy and a small, snarky comment about you trimming his hair next time, and doing it better.

He wanted you to prove to him you could do one thing better, instead. Making yourself cum on his cock was never a hard task, but now, all you had was his thigh, over and over, and it didn’t matter how many times you came with his skin rubbing against your red, sensitive clit, and his praising and teasing, it was never enough for Suguru. 

“Now you’re sorry, it only took you, what, four orgasms?” 

“Please, Sugu! Please, I can’t-” 

You choked, that neediness showing in your voice, in your pleas, hoping he would give in this time. And continued moving, feeling the next orgasm build up in your core, your insides twitching around nothing when you wanted him there. 

“You can’t, love? Is it too much for your insatiable cunt?” He finally touched you, both hands gripping tight on your waist and thigh, forcing you to stay where you were, his smirk widening when he saw your legs shaking. “If it’s too much, you don’t want my cock, do you?”

It was a trap. A tricky question. It only made you groan in frustration. The sound made Suguru push his leg upwards with quite a strength, pressing his skin against your clit and wet folds. 

“Answer me, pretty girl.”

“I wan- Sugu… I want your cock, please.” 

He smirked again, pressing his leg on you once more, just to feel your wet, hot skin against his. He was pleased to see how he could easily overstimulate you, and the feeling only increased when you felt yourself closer and closer to another painful, but good orgasm. 

“Just because you asked nicely.”

He moved fast, not wanting you to lose the grip you had on that pleasure. Helping you with his hands on your waist, Suguru shifted your weight from one leg to his lips, his cock, already leaking pre-cum, filled you entirely in one move. 

Your mouth was open in a slight shock and a wave of pleasure. The same that left Suguru with his eyes closed, and his head leaned back against his chair. None of you would ever get used to that feeling. 

“Fucking heaven, girl. That’s how good your pussy feels after cumming so much f’me,” He said every word with that same fierce tone of his, the one that always made you throb, insane for the way he had a hold on you, how he controlled your body without even trying. “It’s all nice and ready for me to feel ya, right?”

“Right.” You agreed, not waiting a second. And, when you moved your hip against him, he snickered.

“Not now, sweet thing. You wanted me inside, I’m inside,” He said, right hand moving up to touch the single tear that fell down your cheek, his cock twitching inside your wet gummy walls, barely unable to control himself after that. “Now you’re on top, I’m gonna fuck you on top. Crying or not, you know how I like it.”

“Suguru-”

“Take it.”

──────〃✰ RYOMEN SUKUNA

“I had enough of your behavior today, my little viper.”

Sukuna’s voice was deep, causing shivers to run down your spine while he pulled his throbbing cock out of you. He was still leaning on top of you, his chest pressed against your back and his left hand in a tight grip on your hair, keeping your body still for him. 

“Maybe I gave you too much freedom,” He started, whispering into your ear while he pressed his tip on your pussy, teasing you, testing the limits of your neediness. When you tried to move your hips against his, Sukuna smiled. A wide, devilish grin, followed by a low groan when he pushed his cock back inside you, spreading your tight, wet walls around his fat size. “And you started acting like an insatiable little whore.”

“Nmh- Kuna! Sorry! I’m sorry!” Your voice was showing signs of your weariness. Your hands desperately looking for something to hold onto when he moved back to fuck you on fours, cock filling you up and hitting your right spots over, and over, and over again. 

“Now you’re sorry, my suffering?” He asked when his large left hand found its way in between your hair, pulling the strands from the root, arching your back forcefully. “Now it’s too late.”

Your mistake? Tried to rush him while he had Uraume trimming his hair. He loved and hated when you disturbed his rare moments of peace and self-care, always meaning you were going to end up shaking and fucked dumb in his bed. And he had no problem in making you apologize for not being able to control your own hormones. 

In such an almost sweet way, manhandling you to any and every position he wanted, just to see how many times he could make you cum. And how many did he have now? You couldn’t remember anymore. Not when your eyes rolled back each time his hips slapped against yours and his tip kissed your cervix over, and over, and over, and over... His hands keep you in your place, holding your waist and hair. 

And looking at how you were trying to hold on the sheets, increasing his rough movements until your hands were falling by your sides, turning you into a moaning wet mess when you were so close to yet another orgasm. “You’re not trying to run away, are you?”

“F-Fuck! N-no, Ryo! M’not! I swe-ear…”

“Liar.” He groaned when suddenly pushed back, making your cunt clench around nothing, missing him there. “You know I don’t like when you run.”

Sukuna held you, your body light as a feather, while he switched positions. In seconds, he had you laid in bed, your back hit the mattress as his body moved above yours, both hands pressing the back of your knees until he put you in an unholy mating press. His weight entirely over yours and pounding harshly against your poor cunt at once, your scream muffled against his mouth when he kissed you. 

“That’s right, you’ll stay fucking quiet and take it,” Ryomen said, both hands pressing you more and more open for him, your sweet scent filling his nostrils, making his smirk grow. “That’s why you’re acting like a damn brat today? Got your hormones making you crazy?”

Of course, he knew, he had to know. The signs were there from the start, and made the man push himself harder and harder against your reddish puffy cunt, mixing your juices with his pre-cum. 

“Mhm- Fuck, fuck, Kuna, please!” You choked out, eyes glistening with tears of pleasure and slight overstimulation. The sight triggered that same deep need in him, a low growl leaving his mouth with his deep grunts when he started pouncing harder. Deeper. So good. Forcing his way into your cunt when you opened your legs even more for him, drunk in the pleasure of being folded by the king. 

And the tears came, falling down your cheeks as he continued, unable to stop his movements against you. The sight of your tear-stained face only taking away the last grip of his sanity. His right hand moving to feel your neck and pressing the sides, controlling your breath lightly and your blood pressure there, the feeling of your vision getting even more blurred, only seeing the brutish smile on his face and his red eyes rolling back as you both came together. 

“Good- Fucking- pussy, my queen,” Sukuna breathed out, looking down to see the beads of cum escaping when his movements loosened slightly. “All filled up, that must ease that behavior of yours and give me a strong heir, a boy, hm?!”

──────〃✰ KAMO CHOSO

Choso wasn’t a man to have haircuts often. He always loved the length of his dark strands, and, most importantly, you loved it. So when he said he would go out with his brother, you didn’t expect to see how gorgeous he was when he came back home. He had trimmed only one inch or two, but they styled his hair differently than he usually did. 

His hair length showed more while the strands fell on his shoulders, his appearance strangely clean, but so pretty and so hot too. It made you melt in a way you weren’t expecting, those hormones of yours messing with your inner neediness and your usual desire for the man only growing. 

He couldn’t take his eyes off you when you were like that, both hands keeping your knees apart while your pussy was milking his cock, the girth twitching inside you, his hips moving back and forth painfully slow and his eyes glued to the luscious vision with each movement he made against you. 

“Always feel so good like this.” His voice is low, not hiding the necessity within. Choso was edging himself in you, always slowing down his movements when he was about to cum. It was a good fucking torture you taught him. 

“You promised you’d cum with me this time, Cho,” your voice was low, almost in a coaxing tone, or trying. 

“I know, I know,” He whispers back, leaning his body against yours as he continues with that same pace. His body is shivering above yours, his panting and grunts louder. He couldn’t control himself anymore, but he tried, taking both of you to that sweet overstimulation. “I jus’ need more of you, my love. Just… More.”

The last word comes with a deep thrust, making your body jolt and that same ragged moan leaves his mouth. And it doesn’t take long for Choso to regain his pace again, faster, harder, pounding down on you like a mad man. Both arms caging you in bed while his hips moved harshly. 

“Fuck, fuck, Choso!”

“I know, I’m gonna cum too, my love.” He didn’t need to say much, the pleasure took control of both of you, your mouth opening while your moans were running out freely. Sweet words and his name repeating over and over each time thighs slammed against yours. “I’m gonna cum this time, I promise- With you-”

He closed his eyes when a shudder burned up on his skin to his neck, both hands reaching for your face, cupping your cheeks and bringing you close, kissing your lips so furiously, keeping you pinned down for him. 

Choso was desperate, moaning sweet little promises with his weak and drained voice while his veiny, leaking cock throbbed inside you. Your moans turning one when you came for him, again, your poor cunt tightening the grip, sucking him deeper, making room for the ropes of white cum that came right after. 

“Fuck! Fuckfuckfuck, take it! Take it all! ‘S all yours, my love.” 

You were seeing stars behind your eyes before you looked at the raven haired man above you. Even after cumming and having your legs shaking around him after bringing you to your eight orgasm, Choso was still keeping unsteady movements of his hips against you. 

“C-Cho…” You breathed out, hands touching his shoulders marked by your nails. “‘S too much already.”

“I’m sorry, sweetheart. So sorry,” he whispered, kissing your lips and the bridge of your nose softly before he pulled out. 

He immediately straightened his posture, eyes darting back to your open folds and the cum leaking out. Breathless, Choso moved his hands, middle and ring finger pushing his seed back inside you. His smile only widening when he moved his hand out to see the cum coming back again. 

“Already so full, my love?” Her eyes found yours, noticing that same reddish blush across your cheeks. He smiled, hand moving to finger you again, using his cum to lubricate your clit. “Cum again, and I’ll give you more.”

──────〃✰ HIGURUMA HIROMI

“Fuck, my love. This pussy’s gonna kill me.”

Hiromi couldn’t stop. Not after you took him by surprise, and he did the same to you. It matched so perfectly that he had to fuck you senseless to enjoy the night properly. 

You were waiting for him to come home while dressed in your favorite nightgown, the lacy fabric hugging your body so perfectly, it made his mouth water as soon as he stepped inside your shared penthouse. His surprise for you? A haircut. With no warning. He just decided he needed it and got it after work. 

Right in the middle of your fertile period. That damn ovulation that got your pussy soaked the second you laid your eyes on him, and, since then, the man was shoving his aching cock into your wet and already aching pussy. Rubbing his tip against your clit to make you cum whenever you mewled, it was “too much, Hiro!”. It was never too much for him. 

“Knew you were ovulating, I fuckin’ knew it!” He moaned, breathless, between each thrust of his hips against yours. Having you on all fours like he so much loved and seeing your cunt swallowing his girth always made him behave like that.

Releasing his frustrations and exhaustion in you. 

“You always know, Hiro! ‘S so unfair!” You stirred, trying to look at him over your shoulders, until you felt his right hand smacking your ass, the left grabbing your hair from the root, your body curved in front of him. 

“Gotta give my wife what she wants, don't’ ya think, doll face?” His husky voice filled your ears when he curved his body on top of yours, the right hand circling your body to find your clit again. 

“Hiromi, please!”

“Don’t behave now, doll. You’re gonna cum with me when I fill you, alright?”

Your nods became desperate when he started moving his middle and ring finger in circles and pressuring your clit, the feeling of your nerves being stimulated again, along with the deep thrusts hitting all those sweet spots inside, were making your eyes roll. 

Hiromi kept his pace, so eager and so rough, taking all of his goddamn stress into you, cock buried deep in your heat, your juices making way for him to slide in and out with a ravishing sound echoing around you two. 

“H-Higu- Fuck, love! ‘M gonna cum!” 

“All for me, love. Come on, for me,” He whispers into your ear. 

His movements never slow down, his hips slamming against yours, balls deep edging your clit along with his fingers. It was so damn much, and yet you couldn’t stop, giving him another orgasm, hitting you like a furious tidal wave when the squirt got him all wet, the sounds echoing sloppier when he moaned louder. 

“Fucking good girl, doll. Such a dirty lil’ princess for me,” Hiromi purred, his forehead leaned on your shoulder while he seemed to try and compose himself. Even with how hard his length was pulsing against your walls. “Remember I love you, ‘kay?”

His murmurs made you open your eyes, trying to understand him. “W-What? Hiro-”

Your voice got stuck in your throat when he stood straight, both hands pulling your wrists to your back and keeping you like that. His pounding got harder, harsher. Hiromi had his eyes closed while he let go of his senses and fucked you. With all the letters, fucked. Hips moving mercilessly against you, your throat sore with your moans, but unable to keep silent whenever he was feral like that, unable to stop.

“I’m gonna fill you, love. Can I? Please, please, I need- I have to!” His words barely made any sense, as if you could even get your own senses to answer him when he had you like that. “Feels so right, ‘m gonna fill you with all of it, love. And you’re gonna gimme a baby, right? A girl, our girl, I’m gonna love you both so much, darling, fuck!”

Hiromi’s body shivered while he painted your tight walls with his seed, cumming deep with the tip kissing your cervix, twitching with his white shots filling you to the brim. The lawyer leaned closer again, kissing your back and shoulders, feeling you stir underneath his body. “Don’t waste it. Make sure it’ll catch this time.”

──────〃✰ KONG SHIU

Shiu felt his body jolting with pleasure, your tongue circling his tip, making it difficult for him not to moan loud, and louder, with each stroke. Seeing you kneeling in front of him with his cock in your mouth always made the man quiver, a glimpse of that deep lust in his eyes. 

“That’s my girl, so dirty for your man, hm?!” He smirked, right hand caressing your cheek before going up to your hair, gripping tight around his fist to control your pace. “Making me lose control here, darling.”

“Are you? So fast?” You teased, rolling your tongue around his length again, sliding it into your mouth and intensifying your movements, sucking and controlling your breath and gag reflex. Shiu’s cock touched the back of your throat, and your moans against his mouth made him moan loud again, looking down and slapping your cheeks softly to make you open your eyes. 

“Fuck, darling. Keep going like this, and I’m gonna cum fast,” his voice was low, pulling his hips back to give you a moment to breathe. Your hands kept steady movements, never stopping praising him.

“Before me?” Your voice had that same teasing tone again, making him chuckle. 

“You know I won’t stop soon, doesn’t matter if you make me cum now,” he replied, caressing your hair, digging his fingers in until he had your strands in a ponytail on his hand. “I’m gonna fill your mouth, and once I make you cum enough, I’m gonna fill your insatiable pussy, alright?”

“Enough?” He narrows his eyes when you ask, touching your chin, silently asking you to open your mouth. 

“Yes, enough. Two, three, four times… I’ll decide.” 

With that, he has your tongue out and slides into your mouth again, letting you suck his aching dick like you so much wanted in that hungry, needy, hormonal mess you were. Shiu didn’t dare to fuck your throat his time, only sitting still while you kept your movements. 

Often licking down to his full, heavy balls while stroking his wet girth, making the man moan and smile, his half-lidded eyes locked on yours, not wanting to lose a single sight of you worshiping him with such desire. 

“My girl- Fuck!” His hands move back to your head when you start moving faster, so eagerly, praising him. Shiu’s grip on your hair tightens, but not to stop you, only drowning more into that pleasure that makes him stutter and grunt for you. “Ngh, fuuuuck! ‘M gonna cum, darling. Fuck, fucking good mouth for me!” 

Shiu stops, relaxing on the couch and pulsing in your mouth, filling every space with thick ropes of his hot cum, the taste strangely sweet, making you swallow every drop and lick him entirely to finish. “Every month this side of you gets me insane, little love.”

“You know how much I need you, Shiu.” Your voice is hoarse from the slight burning feeling in the back of your throat. 

“Yeah? Gotta prove that to me, sweet thing.” He whispered, leaning down to kiss your lips with a deep need to feel you closer. His hands reached for your waist, pulling you up to his lap, letting you adjust your legs on either side of his body. Hands already reaching for the middle of your thighs, feeling your slick folds with his fingers. “Sucking my cock gets you so wet?”

“Mhm… Pleasing you makes me feel good.” Your lips form a small smirk while your hands reach for his shoulders. He keeps stroking himself, looking down to see your juices getting him even more wet before he can slide in, both moaning against each other’s mouth. 

“Oh, I can feel it, sweet girl,” He smiled, hands moving up to pull you closer. His hips moving with yours, opening you around his length, both twitching deliciously. “Please me a little more, will ya? Ride your man. I’ll fuck you good once you cum again.”

──────〃✰ KUSAKABE ATSUYA

Bruises. 

Your body was covered in them at this point. 

Love bites, hickeys, and the perfect shape of his hands marking your ass. Kusakabe loved to see every little mark he put on you. It satisfied him deeply to see how eager you got every time his lips touched your skin. How wet you were always after. And he loved going down, kissing and biting your thighs and the sensitive skin until he had his mouth on your wet slit.

His tongue was moving in circles and eight, up and down around your sweet little and sensitive spot, making you squirm and moan just for him. His eyes were close, his hands moving on your nipples so softly, teasing the skin and pinching them just to feel you jolt and groan. 

“Mgh- Fuck, Suya!” Your voice was low, hands tied with his belt above your head, keeping you in place. A low growl escaped when you tried to move aside, his fingers twitching your nipples again, making your needy moan sound louder. “Atsuya! Fuck, I’m- I’m gonna cum!”

Your legs were shaking, moving aside to spread more for him while he reached for your high, gripping your nipples with the same greed feeling consuming him, knowing that those heavenly sounds of yours were about to get louder. Needier. 

And it did. 

You came on his tongue again, body shaking in your bed while he still moved his tongue, now down to your wet, velvety folds to fuck his tongue into you, tasting you so shamelessly and opening his eyes to watch you. Meeting the hunger in his eyes, you knew that the night was far from over. 

“Why were you trying to move?” He asked, moving closer to you, towering over your body and spreading your legs to accommodate him. 

“I wasn’t, Suya. I can’t control it.” 

“You can’t? My love… I’ve fucked you enough to know,” his voice lowers a few tones, his soft grunt increasing when he brushes his tip on your pussy, lubricating himself with your juices and feeling how you clench around nothing, out of expectancy to feel him inside. “I could leave you like this, right now.”

“No! No, please,” your pleading fills his ear, making his smirk grow wider, way too satisfied with how desperate you get with just the threat of it. It makes his erection almost hurt, wanting to be inside for once. 

“Ask for it like the good girl you are, then.”

“Atsuya…”

“Don’t get all shy on me now, princess.” His body moves slightly, left hand holding his weight beside your head, on the mattress. 

“‘M not! I swear.”

“Then you’re just being difficult, huh?”

His statement makes you stutter, unable to answer. And the feeling that comes after is almost blissful, when he finally fills you with his girth, opening your wet, tight folds at once. Kusakabe groans in your ear, his knees holding his weight when he moves up, hands now holding your waist and moving harshly, fast, painfully rough. And you loved it. 

“I’ll fuck this attitude out of you, princess. Like I always do.” It’s a promise, you can almost see it in his eyes, the way he fucks himself inside of you, over and over, making your body bounce for him, increasing the sloppy sounds around you two. 

“Aw, baby! ‘Can’t! I can’t, Suya.”

“Can’t? But you will, for me.” He nods while speaking, making you nod with him. “That’s right. Gotta fill this hungry cunt so you can learn to behave.”

I DO NOT authorize plagiarism of any kind.

Reblogs and comments are always appreciated ᥫ᭡

[syluss-littlecrow]

Hi there, I dunno of you take requests but I'd like to request Sylus with MC who's love language is biting. And MC would also totally leave marks. And Sylus would think of his own payback for her everytime.

red marker

<sylus x fem!reader>

genre/warnings: smut, pwp, unprotected sex, biting kink, backshots, pussy eating, breeding kink, size kink

w/c: 1.2K

a/n: thank you for my very first fic request here ❤️ sylus is definitely a biter (his little fangs!!) just wanna say I have plenty of skin for him to take a chomp off 😛

Sylus stares at the mirror, specifically staring down at the whole garden of love bites you’ve planted him with. He knows you’ve been biting him when he’s fucking you, but he doesn’t realise how much you’ve been taking bites out of him like he’s strawberry shortcake. 

Well, not that he minded. The thought of you thinking of marking him as yours secretly makes his heart flutter.

So he should return the favour, right?

Sylus takes in the scent of his shampoo on you, his eyes screwed shut as slowly breaths pull out of him. His palm is warm against the small of your back. You smell so fucking good just filled of him. It reminds him that you’re his. 

And even with his cock sheathed deep inside of you right now, he still thinks this isn’t enough. 

While swimming in his thoughts, he feels a sharp pain scatter on his shoulder blade. It barely lasts before it switches to pleasure when he realises that you’re biting onto his skin again. 

“Sweetie, aren’t you enjoying this too much?”, his low groans sending goosebumps across your skin. 

His fingers brush your hair away, his attention aimed on your neck, before he latches his lips, then his teeth, testing your pain threshold, ready to release at any sign of discomfort that you give. 

But a soft moan and your pussy tightening against his cock is what you return him. And Sylus can’t help but sink his teeth a little deeper while he forces you to fuck his cock. 

Your lewd cries grow louder whenever you lift yourself off his cock and impale yourself once more, and your lips have completely left his skin. 

Sylus presses his lips on your chest, cupping both tits with his large and slender fingers, pinching your nipples, all while grazing his teeth and licking your tits. It drives you nuts, and he figures that from the way cream is just coating his dick while he makes you ride him. 

He nibbles against the soft skin of your breast, then sucking the tender flesh, making sure he sees a soft bruise bloom on your chest. And he repeats it, over and over again, until you completely come undone on his dick, your pussy fluttering and leaking all over him, and your thighs shaking from being forced to cum all over his thick cock. 

He pauses to look up at you. His hand now is at the nape of your neck. 

“Did you cum all over my dick?” He asks, watching you nod your head shakily, the remnants of your orgasm still lingering in your spent pussy. 

Your mind is still hazy, but you still answer him, “yeah.”

“Good girl”, he chuckles. “But we’re not done yet.”

Sylus lifts you off him, and he’s already missing your warm tightness. Nonetheless, he has other plans. He can be patient. 

With much ease, consisting of a whole lot of using his Evol, you’re settled with his face between your legs. 

You’re about to protest about him not cumming yet, but when his tongue flicks against your wet clit, your mind shuts off, leaving behind trails of cries from overstimulation.

He switches between fucking his tongue into your pussy and then trailing his lips to the soft and thick flesh of your inner thighs—his actual target. 

You jolt at the sensation of his teeth grazing against your flesh again, a nice wave of slick slowly spilling out of your pathetic hole. 

Sylus makes sure he’s had his fill, and that’s filling your thighs with his bite marks and love bites until he’s satisfied. 

“Dirty kitten, getting off from being bitten, hmm?” The male in between your legs teases. He only receives a whine in response. 

Sylus quickly realises why you enjoy marking him so much—he wants to mark you all over as his too. He could get hooked onto this. 

He doesn’t forget to switch to the other side, sending your mind into an overstimulated frenzy when it’s as if he’s ready to have you for his next meal. 

Bruises and bite marks slowly fill up the empty spaces of your skin, with Sylus enjoying your sobs while your pussy only grows wetter from the sting. 

“Sylus, I’m sensitive-“, you whimper, your hands messing up his pale locks. Sylus casts you. an amused expression before he decides to have mercy on you, and pulls away. Sylus shifts to meet your eye level, pulling you into a dizzy kiss. 

His palms slide down your body, he leans into you, but he doesn’t press his weight onto you. 

“Turn around for me, kitten.” His whispers, and you do, soft gasps leaving your lips when you arch your back against him, feeling his thick cock rest against your creamy folds. 

“That’s it”, he encourages with praise, his hand adjusting his cock to line up right to your pulsing cunt before he pushes himself in, stuffing you full with a strained groan. “That’s a good fucking girl.”

He hears your quiet whimpers, and this time, he presses his body weight onto you. His fingers lift your chin up so you’re forced to face Sylus from the side. 

When he pulls out and thrusts into you from behind, it makes your thighs tremble from the sheer pleasure. 

The pace he’s setting is making you see stars, and when his lips are on your shoulder once more and he’s sinking his teeth into your skin, you’re losing it. 

You can barely keep your eyes open, your body completely submitting to the pleasure that Sylus is sinking you in. 

“Does this feel good, kitten?” He asks while another smack echoes in his room, his cock railed into you for the nth time.

Attempts to process his words are futile, especially not when he’s fucking your thoughts out of you. 

“So good. So fucking amazing”, you’re borderline sobbing, unintentionally pushing yourself back to make sure he’s making you full to the brim from every stroke 

While he’s drowning you in pleasure, Sylus makes sure he leaves a couple of marks down your neck to the best of his abilities. 

“I’m gonna cum”, your strained voice catches his attention, along with the way your pussy is squeezing Sylus’s dick. He groans at the sensation, his thrusts growing more heavy and desperate. Undoubtedly, you feel like fucking heaven on his cock. 

And when he feels you let go on his cock, his grip around on your neck tightens. He’s definitely not lasting any longer. Not when you’re luring him down with you like this. He wants so badly to ruin you, bring you down with him, mark every bare skin of yours possible.

So he does.

Sylus makes sure his final bite for the night blooms a gorgeous shade of wine on your bare skin, while his cum fills you up all the way, enjoying the way you’re shaking and whining. 

The corner of Sylus’s lips curl into a smirk while he watches you slowly drift into your slumber, your body inching close to him to catch his warmth. His gaze trails down to your chest, admiring his work of art—his bites imprinted across your neck, shoulders, chest, and especially around your nipples. He knows he’s ready for a scolding if you find out, but Sylus gets it now—there’s nothing more beautiful and satisfying as reminding you that you belong to him. 

[noekawa]

DOTING BOYFRIEND !

meal; oneshot

condiments; rambling, not pole winner post I just gotta share my love for him, Boyfriend! Katsuki Bakugo/reader

Katsuki Bakugo whose heart nearly bursts when he sees you walking into the dorm’s lobby with Eri in your arms, smiling so brightly as the little girl snuggled up and babbled to you about Aizawa. He snaps candid pictures and videos, ignoring the teasing from Mina and Sero.

“You’re acting like a proud father!” Mina jokes as she nudges his arm lightly.

He grumbles as he takes the secret photoshoot seriously, bending down slightly to get a perfect shot “I’ll make her my wife before that.”

Sero couldn’t help but be laugh “Woah? Dude has his priorities set!”

Kirishima butts in and a nervous drop of sweat goes down his neck “Bakubro your hands are making sparks..”

He only stops once nine rows in his gallery was filled with your pictures.

Katsuki Bakugo who usually goes to bed early, stays up just to learn how to help women deal with painful cramps after seeing you curled up and whining about the pain. The next day your desk is overflowing with chocolates and a thermos full of warm cranberry juice.

Katsuki Bakugo who gives a soft smile when he sees you on TV, answering stupid questions on a daily talk show. His eyes filled with adoration when you answered with his name when you were asked whose food you preferred the most.

Katsuki Bakugo who shamelessly answers with your name when a journalist asks what’s his secret to face danger head on.

Katsuki Bakugo who just melts into a pile of mush when seeing you do anything mundane, he’s too enamored by your existence.

Katsuki Bakugo who adds a brooch to his hero costume, which consisted of yours and his initials. Placing it proudly on his chest as a good luck charm.

Katsuki Bakugo who immediately covers your frame when a villain appears, refusing to even let them see you by using his taller structure to hide you. If they laid a hand on you they’d have burn marks lathering their stomach.

Katsuki Bakugo who holds you close to his chest at night as you were busy peppering kisses all over his face, he grins like crazy before letting out a lovesick sigh “Whatever you’re doing to me, I can’t even be mad about it.”

[infictionalwonderland]

I NEED PART TWO OF THE MARVEL CAST FLIRTING WITH Y/N L/N!

. . . MARVEL CAST FLIRTING WITH Y/N Y/L/N FOR 10 MINUTES STRAIGHT! (part2)

You cackled to yourself after sending the message into your groupchat, quickly returning to the video and beginning to play it again, occasional bursts of giggles slipping through your lips.

Resuming your place in the video—the first clip that began playing was actually from not that long ago at all. It was You, Kat Dennings, Elizabeth Olsen and Zendaya at Taylor Swifts Eras Tour (an experience you would genuinely never forget). Taylor was playing Lover and, in the clip, Kat had your face in one hand and the other wrapped around your waist, bringing you close to her body.

“Lover, can I go where you go—“ Kat sang with Taylor, singing all the lyrics to you and grinning at you, faces inches away from each other. “—Can we always be this close.” She punctuated this lyric with giving you an eskimo kiss.

You smiled sincerely at the memory.

The next clip began up, it was you and Chris Evans doing Playground Insults with BBC Radio 1: the two of you were sat opposite each other, knees touching, Chris was grinning goofily at you, giddy laughs escaping him as you tried to remain straight faced.

“—we’re here with Chris Evans and Y/N Y/L/N.” The presenters introduced.

“And we’re about to play Playground Insults . . Now Chris and Y/N are sat opposite each other,” the camera cut to you and Chris, him smiling largely and you looking away to contain your own, “the atmosphere is very tense.”

“We’ve done this quite a few times now but im thinking.. this is the biggest movie of the year, let’s make this the biggest playground insults we’ve ever done.”

“Yep.” Chris nodded, trying not to laugh.

“Chris, hun. . you’re ugly. Like, plain ugly.” You nodded seriously, immediately setting off as you feigned a pained wince to the words. “Everyone’s been talking about it. . just, you’re so atrocious to look at. Honestly, I almost feel arse over tits in horror when I saw you.”

Chris opened his mouth to say something but then faltered and pouted, “no matter how good of an actor I am, I could never even get those words out my mouth about you and make them sound genuine. Seriously.”

The third clip started—it was Chris Hemsworth on a carpet, a bold colourful question at the bottom said ‘WHO HAS THE MOST FANS?’. Chris immediately said, “Y/n.” In that deep Australian accent of his. “Not that I blame the people from choosing her to be the people’s queen, she is truly one of a kind. You’ll only ever meet one Y/n in your lifetime, cherish it. The fans have the right idea.”

It changed to Scarlett with the same colourful question at screen and at the same carpet event: “Oh, Yeah. Y/n, one hundred percent.” She chuckled huskily. “That woman has fans upon fans and seriously, I’m one of them. She is something else.” She grinned, winking at the camera.

After Scarlett, Paul Rudd came onto your screen in the very same clip. “Oh! The legend herself, Y/N Y/L/N.” Paul answered brightly, smiling. “The amount of fans she has is unbelievable—well, it’s definitely believable for someone like her, so, not really unbelievable..”

The forth clip began—it was you all playing Family Feud with Jimmy Kimmel, on his live show. Sebastian and RDJ were currently facing off; Jimmy posed the question “what, other than the sun, are some of the hottest things to exist?”

Sebastian got to the buzzer faster than Robert managed to and didn’t even falter or hesitate as he answered straight away, “Y/N Y/L/N.”

The audience immediately screamed laughed and shrieked in delight, RDJ just nodded his head in understanding and appreciation, clapping his hands. Chris Evans, Mark and Anthony on the other side all looked amused but ultimately accepting (Chris was nodding along almost subconsciously). You were on the other team, looking heavenward with a faint exasperated grin and Scarlet wrapped her arm around your waist, Chris Hemsworth smirking at you both.

The fifth clip started up: it was a behind the scenes shot from Endgame, the big final battle. You were currently in the middle of doing your own stunt, green screen behind you and harnesses strapped to you as you dangled at a halfway point in the air. Your arms and hands were positioned in such a way to show your character manipulating her powers—the position also very much enhanced your chest, with the added help of your superhero attire. You looked hot, even you could admit.

The camera mirthfully panned to some of the rest of the cast who all stood aside while you filmed your scene—said cast being Chris Evans, Tom Holland, Gwyneth Paltrow, RDJ, Elizabeth Olsen and Tessa Thompson. All of their eyes were fixated on you, Robert was the only one grinning in amusement (and awe) while all the others stared at you as though you hung the sun yourself.

“Boobies.” Lizzie giggled faintly, her eyes stuck. The rest of the cast watching dumbly nodded while the crew cracked up behind the cameras.

And if you screenshotted their dumbfounded faces looking ip at on screen you. . well that was your business.

The clip changed. It was now Karen Gillan being interviewed on some carpet event, looking genuinely breathtaking. The interviewer was asking, “—obviously, your friend and co-star Y/N Y/L/N has been in lots of iconic movies. . what is your favourite scene of hers in The Wolf of Wall Street?”

Karen paused with a cheeky little smile, giving the interviewer a a jokingly incredulous look. “Come on.” She simply said. “It’s a bloody no brainer, I’m certain it was Leonardo’s favourite scene too. . I hope it is anyway otherwise he’s a silly, silly man.”

At the same carpet event with the same interviewer, Chris Hemsworth was being interviewed—his wife, Elsa, on his arm and looking half ready to battle off any rude interviewers (queen).

“—what is your favourite scene of hers in Ocean’s 8?”

“All of them!” Elsa answered eagerly, grinning. “Her outfits really accentuated her personality and I enjoyed them very much so. Particularly her outfit for the gala. . the amount of accentuated personality, by gosh, it had me speechless.”

Chris turned her head, obviously trying not to laugh at his wife.

“Nunca he estado más celoso y agradecido por la ropa en mi vida.” Elsa hummed.

You blinked.

The clip changed to you, Sebastian, Lizzie, Paul, Jeremy and Jimmy all on his Tonight Show playing Musical Beers. The slightly unnerving music/beat played in the background while you all stalked around the circle, Paul and Jeremy already out—leaving you, Seb, Lizzie and Jimmy.

As you were all racing around the circular table, Lizzie very obviously swatted your ass and you were impressed with your own body as you watched that impact: the audience erupted into laughs and shrieks, Jimmy playfully covering his eyes as Seb smirked. You thought that would be the end of the clip, but no.

The very disco-esk tune briefly cut out and past time you thought that meant it stopped completely and you’d already reached for the red cup in front of you and chugged it’s contents, only to pause as the music began back up.

“Spit it back! Spit it back!”

You did just that—but when the music actually stopped and Seb was left standing in front of the cup with your (let’s not go there) in it, your mouth popped open in shock. Jeremy gladly backed away from the table in hysterics, Lizzie and Jimmy equally as amused.

“Oh my god, I am—“

Sebastian quickly downed the cup with. . those contents, not even looking all that perturbed.

“So sorry.” You finished, mouth agape.

You vaguely remembered a conversation you’d had with him after the show, sincerely and repeatedly apologising and he was just very, very amused with you. He didn’t seem to mind at all—what an odd man.

“It’s all good.” Sebastian chuckled lowly, wrapping the mortified looking past you in a one armed shoulder hug and squeezing you to him. Lizzie seemed to be trying to trade a very obvious eye message with you—the audience shrieked and screamed in the background.

Another clip began: its was you and Scarlett Johansson doing a trust fall thing, you thought (correctly).

“Scarlett I swear. .” You giggled, looking over your shoulder at the woman behind you—she grinned back at you amusedly, her eyes twinkling.

“Calm down.” She laughed herself. “I’ll catch you don’t worry, gorgeous.”

Still slightly overcome with nervous giggles, you turned and let out a breath as you shut your eyes before holding at your arms and falling back.

And catch you she definitely did—although her hands didn’t exactly land in a PG-13 area, you cackled as you watched her hands grope at your chest to pull you up. In the video, you were also wheezing as were the crew and Scarlett had a cheeky little smirk as she laughed.

When you were finally standing, she gave one last squeeze before finally letting go—on screen you was breathless with giggles.

“Always wanted to do that.” She shrugged simply with a large amused smile.

The next clip began—it was Zendaya and Tom Holland on LADBible, playing that how much do you agree or not game. The statement said was ‘Y/N Y/L/N is everyone‘s celebrity crush’.

Instantly, Tom and Zendaya moved their cups to strongly agree, both of them nodding in solid agreement with the statement: presently, you awed at your friends, ego very much boosted. Well. To be fair, all of this video was massively boosting your ego.

“I mean, come on.” Zendaya made a ‘duh’ face and shrugged her shoulders.

“It’s Y/N.” Tom smiled crookedly, adding onto her comment.

“I am so happy I get to now say that she’s one of my closest friends.” Zendaya beamed genuinely. “She’s—one of those people whose beauty isn’t just an external thing, she’s so lovely man.” She pouted, in awe of you.

Watching the video, you beamed back at her.

The clip changed: Mark Ruffalo was on the Graham Norton show, next to Nicki Minaj and an actor you couldn’t place.

“Who would you say your favourite co-star has ever been, Mark?” Graham inquired.

“I—i would probably have to go with Y/N—“ The crowd instantly erupted into cheers and yells and Nicki smiled next to him, stating that she loved you under the sound of cheering. Mark grinned back at her, mumbling ‘me too’.

“Yeah, she’s a hell of an actress, that one. So easy to work with. Funny as f—hell, she’s just—an extremely genuine and kind person, and she really brings the energy on set.” Mark grinned. “..she’s also the only free pass my wife has ever given me. Which I won’t be using! Because I don’t believe in cheating, it’s scummy! Even though she’s gorgeous—anyone would be lucky!” He had to rise to a shout at the end as the audience erupted.

Nicki giggled next to him, “me personally, I would use that pass.”

You gasped in laughter as you watched the screen, screen-recording it all so you could go back and watch it. Saving it to your folder titled PISSING MY PANTS HRLP

The clip changed yet again, showing a scene from the Winter Solider BTS. You and Sebastian were filming a scene where he had to shoot your character—you watched the ‘Winter Solider’ shoot your character multiple times making you go down with an agonised yell, crawling away from him.

As soon as CUT was yelled, Sebastian’s face dropped from his stone cold (wintery) expression and he raced to you, crouching next to you. He practically tugged you into his lap on the floor, holding you.

“Oh my fuck that—that just felt so real, Y/n. You know I would never hurt you right?” He asked, blinking repeatedly before a small smirk fell on his lips. “You’re way too pretty to injure doll. Can’t ruin your perfect face.”

On screen you huffed in mock anger, hiding an amused grin as you shoved at him—he still held you close to him though, so both of you fell backwards and burst into giggles.

You literally thought ‘I ship them’ as you watched the clip of Sebastian and yourself, forgetting that was you for a moment.

Another clip started up—another behind the scenes. It was you and Tom Hiddleston in Thor : Ragnarok. In the scene Loki was tied down to the chair and your character was meant to intimidate him—you watched yourself take out your character’s daggers and lean forward into his space. One leg leaned up on top of the arm of the chair, sliding one dagger just a hair above the skin of his neck while using the over the move his chin up to be angled to you as you mockingly smiled down at him.

You said your line as your character but Tom remained silent, mouth parted and eyes widened as he gazed up at you—speech failing him. (You knew that they actually decided to include this awestruck look in the movie—the amount of fucking edits you’d seen was unreal).

Eyebrows crinkling you nudged your knee into his chest and he snapped out of it, grabbing your knee in a gentle grip. “Sorry darling, words sometimes seem to fail me in your presence.” He muttered rather hoarsely, still staring up at you.

“I don’t fucking blame him.” Tessa Thompson murmured from behind you both, and the camera moved to show her staring at you in a similar awe.

Present time, you could barely hide your smirk. Literally the biggest ego boost. Of all time.

Again, the clip changed and it was now Natalie Portman looking gorgeous on a carpet event, being interviewed—“if you could have Jane explore another romance than Thor, who would it be and why?”

“Y/N!” Natalia enthused immediately. “Well—her character, but like. Both. Either. One for me, one for Jane. That—would be great. And why? Come on! She’s an absolutely beautiful woman, inside and out. She has this outward glow that you literally cannot and don’t want to look away from and that reflects so much in her personality—once you’ve interacted with her one time, you never want to stop. Ever. I’m not kidding.” She giggled.

Another clip started up quickly—a blooper of you and Chris Evans. In this scene, your characters were meant to kiss after an angsty, angry argument. You stormed into the frame, into the bedroom, completely in character—an angry expression on and ready to go at Steve.

Before you could even let out a single syllable to begin your lines, Chris immediately surged forward and took your face in his hands, kissing the living daylights out of you.

You both pulled back after a bit and you just started at him, questioningly (that kiss was probably one of your best ever, let it be known, Chris Evans was a fantastic kisser).

“I—I thought It’d be good for the scene. .” Chris trailed off bashfully, scratching the base of his neck, literally pulling the excuse out of his arse. In actuality, he hadn’t wanted to spare a moment of the scene where he could be kissing you, well, not doing so.

“Bull!” Scarlett exclaimed as she materialised in the doorway. “He just wanted to kiss you.” She told you, pointedly looking at the man.

“Yeah—i—“ He huffed a defeated sigh, pink-cheeked. “I’ve got nothing. She’s right.”

In hindsight, you thought to yourself, you should probably stop being so shocked when the fanbase starts shipping you with your costars.

The clip changed: now it was you, Elizabeth and Aaron on a carpet event together—all being interviewed at the same time.

“So, Y/n, how does it feel to be in a Maximoff twin sandwich right now?” The interviewer giggled happily, smiling.

Before you could open you’re mouth—“we’re really enjoying it.” Lizzie and Aaron replied at the same time.

The interview gaped and you simply rolled your eyes as the two smirked at either side of you, they’d been talking in sync ever since you’d first met them at the table reading.

“Yeah, why wouldn’t why?” Aaron grinned crookedly. “A beautiful, lovely woman in between us. Honestly, love, there’s not a thought in my head besides you.” He joked, throwing an arm over your shoulder.

“I completely support that.” Lizzie chirped in, “ever since I’ve met this gorgeous lady who i now acknowledge as my partner in everything—she’s taken up all of the room in my brain, and I couldn’t be happier.” She giggled, putting her arm around your waist.

In the middle of them both, with an arm over your shoulder and one around your waist—you simply sighed, sparing the giddy interviewer an exaggerated suffering expression.

Again, the clip switched—it was now another blooper of you in the Iron Man movie, the scene where you handed Tony’s arse to him in the boxing ring. Instead of acting as scripted, Gwen Paltrow got up from her seat and strode over to the boxing ring, stepping inside gracefully and planting one right on your lips.

Presently, you giggled as you thought back to this moment. Gwen was your impulsive queen. Your idol.

From the floor, RDJ squawked in shock, exclaiming about being cheated and betrayed and Gwen flung her stiletto off her foot at him without moving from your lips.

When she finally did, she simply smiled at you kindly, “you just looked so good that I couldn’t not kiss you, sweets.” She shrugged and you, on screen, laughed at her as you leaned back in to kiss her cheek.

(Unfortunately the scene was not included in the movie—but Gwen never wasted an opportunity to talk about it, and you, if the chance arose).

The clip moved onto another one—back to the Thor : Ragnarok movie, you and Heimdall were fighting together, however you missed a step in your stunt and ended up stumbling. Idris immediately caught you with a steady arm around your waist, full you to him so you could stabilise yourself.

You smiled up at him thankfully, squeezing his arm in gratitude (totally not because you’d just wanted to feel his bicep).

You watched as your on screen self get distracted again and Idris murmured to Tom who’d now appeared next to him, “I feel like it’s dishonourable how much I want her to fall so I can catch her again now.”

“Mate, trust me,” Tom laughed, “I completely understand. But she doesn’t need the rescuing.”

“That she does not.” Both men smiled fondly as they watched you.

Presently, you were actively refusing to blush.

A different clip started up—Florence Pugh was being interviewed, looking breathtaking in her green dress. “—did you take anything from set?” The interviewer was asking, smiling at Florence.

“Um—not much, just Y/n’s heart.” Florence immediately cracked up at her own joke, smiling widely. “And her underwear too.” She added.

The interviewer opened her mouth to say something more, giggling at Florence as she continued speaking: “and before you ask, no. I wouldn’t be selling, for any price. Finders keepers and all that shite—plus, she’s my girl, so. That rule applies even more so. No one else can take her heart. Or her pants.”

Watching your friend, you giggled at her cheesy smile at her words before getting distracted by your group chat, where multiple of your friends and co-starts had seen your message and were now responding. Your laughter increased tenfold as you opened the thread.

[hoffmansgirl]

agora hills. ━ dr. charlie mayhew

author's note. i can't get doctor charlie out of my head... i fear it's an obsession atp :(( hope u enjoy !!! requests are open ♡

warnings. minors dni. 18+ ━ pure smut; public sex!! grinding, oral (m!receiving), blood kink if you squint?, praise, degrading, use of "slut" + "whore", unprotected piv, overstimulation, spanking, choking, mentions of getting caught. wc: 1724 .𖥔 ݁ ˖

"charlie, we can't", you whined, but he didn't seem to hear you, or pretended not to; his lips already on your neck, pressing wet kisses on every inch of skin he could reach.

you knew better than to visit charlie during his night shifts. but it became so addicting ━ his recklessness fascinating and arousing, to the point where you didn't care anymore.

you looked at lois tryon, the poor woman in a coma ━ completely unaware of what was going on in her room every single night. her breathing steady, unlike yours, when charlie's hands glided down your thighs, lingering just above your knee high socks. his prominent bulge pressed against your ass, and you moaned.

"charlie, we have to stop", your voice unconvincing as you shifted on his lap, arching your back into the air as he purred softly. he exposed your upper thighs moving his rough hands upwards, his delicate touch lingering at your hips, waist and stomach.

"why lie, now?" he whispered in your ear, gripping your breasts through your shirt; your head fell back against his shoulder in response. "you fucking love it. you love the thought of someone coming in and catching us, don't you?", his question rhetorical, as he already knew the answer.

in the blink of an eye, he ripped your shirt open. you gasped at the sudden sensation of your bare skin exposed to the cold air, the sound of buttons falling on the floor embarrassingly loud. charlie's lips were on your collarbone in an instant, nothing delicate about his touch anymore as he bit your delicate skin, humming at the taste of your blood coating his tongue. he lapped at the wound, and you gripped his thighs, unable to control the moan that left your mouth. charlie's hands found their place on your boobs, covered with a black, lacy bra; your nipples hardened in an instant as he squeezed your soft skin. you tried to speak, but every single thought left your head when he lapped at your sensitive skin, bulge pressing against your ass, hips bucking slightly just to feel you more.

you turned your head to see him, and his lips found yours, moving you so that you straddled his lap. you grounded yourself against his cock; your hands finding his hair almost instantly, tugging at them, eager to get a reaction from him.

and you did. he groaned and bit your bottom lip, lifting your skirt to hold your ass in his hands, fingers digging into your skin, urging your hips to move against him.

charlie swallowed your moans as his tongue found yours; a battle of dominance which ━ as always ━ he won. your pussy throbbed against his cock, legs shaking from the intense pressure, and you pulled away from the kiss, breathless. your trembling hands already unbuttoning his shirt; the feeling of his defined chest under your fingers making you moan softly.

charlie was quick to attack your throat with his mouth, licking every inch of skin he could reach, and your head turned to look at lois.

charlie smirked, massaging your left asscheek before his palm landed on your ass in a spank. you cried out, pressing yourself against him more, unable to look away from the open door, the thrill of it all making your head spin.

"you like the thought of being caught, don't you? you're practically soaking my pants, fuck", he groaned, one arm wrapping around your waist. you were unable to speak, eyes rolling back, the friction of his pants against your soaked clit delicious. then he spanked you again, again, and again, mouth leaving marks all over your neck, and you were unable to keep yourself up anymore. eyes rolling back, the pain on your backside causing your eyes to water.

"shut up", he hissed as you cried out again, way too loud for his liking. "shut the fuck up, you slut".

in an instant, and before you could react, you were on the floor, and your eyes widened in embarrassment at the sight of his wet pants. he didn't seem to care, though, already tugging at his pants, pulling them down along with his boxers, enough to free his cock.

you licked your lips at the sight of him; leaking, angry red, and incredibly tempting. you knew what he wanted, your eyes scanning the room one last time before taking him in hungrily.

your tongue swirled around his tip, the salty taste of him making you moan around him softly. you knew it wasn't the right time and place to tease him; but you were unable to help yourself from lowering your head, tongue tracing against every vein on his shaft. charlie's hands found your hair, pulling tightly, guiding you to take his cock in your mouth; breathless moan erupting from his throat at the sight before him.

"stop fucking teasing and get to work", he groaned as he forced you on his cock, pushing you down until your nose met the skin of his lower stomach. he had trained you well; you didn't even flinch when he touched the back of your throat, eyes meeting his instantly, the ache between your legs unbearable. you pressed your tongue against the underside of his cock, your hands finding his chest, nails digging into his skin.

he looked so good; red tie loose around his neck, shirt hanging off his shoulders, chest heaving with sharp breaths. mouth slightly open as he watched you, the dim lightning making his eyes look even darker than usual. he tugged at your hair again when you met his eyes, his hips bucking into your face sharply.

"god, you are such a fucking slut", he groaned breathlessly. "what would my colleagues think if they saw you right now?" you moaned around him in response, keeping yourself still as his hips bucked into your mouth again and again. "oh, you would absolutely fucking love it. you're desperate for my fucking cock, wanna feel me inside, don't you?", you tried to nod as he forced his cock into your mouth for the last time, tears streaming down your face, before he moved you off him in one swift movement.

"take it off", he pointed to your underwear, and you obeyed, getting up from the floor, legs shaking slightly. you took deep breaths, unclasping your bra as fast as you could with trembling hands. charlie didn't seem to like your tempo as he tugged at the waistband of your panties, pulling them down your legs.

your heart stopped when you heard quiet voices from afar. charlie smirked knowingly, forcing you down onto the little couch, pressing his palm flat against your lower back. you tried to stop him, knowing that someone could come in any second; the voices became louder, and when they were right next to the room you two were in, you felt charlie's cock press against your opening.

you turned your head, but your voice died at the sight of him; a filthy, open-mouthed smirk playing on his lips, chest glistening with sweat, once neatly done hair now falling on his forehead messily. you bit your lip as he took his tie off expertly, the voices in the corridor becoming inaudible as you shook with anticipation.

"keep fucking quiet", he mumbled, pressing a hand against your head, forcing you down. his tip teased your swollen clit, and you hissed at the stimulation, pressing your face into the couch to conceal the sounds.

when he finally entered you, it was rough and careless. you wanted to cry out so badly, the pain and pleasure mixing deliciously. you looked at the hospital bed again as charlie pulled you towards him, chest pressing against your back tightly.

"see that, baby?" he asked lowly, looking at lois, his hips grinding against your ass, and you let out a shaky breath in response. "what would the poor woman think if she saw you like this? all fucked up for me, letting me ruin you every single night". you could feel him throb inside you, one of his hands finding place on your throat as he forced his cock inside of you once again.

"you're such a whore", he groaned again when you clenched around him, not being able to breathe as his hand on your throat tightened, cutting your airflow. "letting me fuck you here, where everyone could see us. does this fucking turn you on?".

you fell down against the couch yet again when he let go of your throat, grabbing your hips as he started to move.

his speed was brutal and reckless, a groan leaving his mouth every now and then as he bottomed out just to slam into your abused cunt once again.

you moaned, unable to speak as you felt the familiar warmth spreading in your stomach, your hands grabbing at any part of him they could reach.

you gasped when he turned you over, not wasting any second before thrusting into you again. his hand found its place on your clit, rubbing it in slow circles, and you swore you could see stars. you wrapped your legs around his hips, the slight change of angle making your head spin.

"i'm close, fuck", you whined, and he smirked, leaning down to kiss you, shoving his tongue down your throat, obscene sounds leaving his mouth at the taste of himself on your lips.

"cum on my cock, baby. show me how good it feels", he thrusted even faster, his tip kissing your g spot with every move of his hips. he reached down to press his mouth against your breast, tongue darting out to flick over your sensitive nipple, and the coil in your stomach snapped at the stimulation.

you cried out, loud, before your head fell back against the couch, your orgasm washing over you. charlie hissed at the sudden tightness of your cunt, slowing his movements, letting you ride down your orgasm. you were breathless and pretty sure you passed out for a second; when you opened your eyes, charlie smirked, putting your legs over his shoulders, his thrusts slow but deep.

"charlie, 's too much", you whined at the overstimulation, your juices coating his cock fully; making it easy for him to move in and out of you.

"come on, don't be a fucking crybaby", he groaned, slapping your thigh roughly. "i'm not done with you yet".

hoffmansgirl 2024 © nicholas a. chavez masterlist ᥫ᭡

[always-just-red]

A multi-headcanon request please. How the boys react when they discover their s/o has been hiding a wound from them because she had it under control and didn't want to give them something else to worry about

Hi! Thanks so much for the request and all the support! Have written a little fic for each of the guys, starring... - Xavier, Deepspace Hunter extraordinaire ✨ - Linkon's worst best baking partner, Zayne 🍪 - Drama queen Rafayel 👑 - King of self-care, Sylus 💅

Putting On A Brave Face

L&DS Boys x Reader

Summary: Sometimes, a certain hunter likes to say things are fine when they definitely aren't...

Genre: A lil bit of angst, mostly fluff + comfort!

Warnings/Additional tags: female reader, established relationship, swearing, canon pet names, some injury details/blood mentioned, teeeeency bit of suggestion (I'm looking at YOU, Sylus...)

| Word count: 4k (1k each!) | Masterlist | Opt-in to my taglist here!

Disclaimer: Characters belong to Love and Deepspace. All work is my own, so please don't repost or plagiarise!

Xavier ⭐

This is bad. Not ‘end of everything as we know it’ bad, but definitely ‘an obscene amount of paperwork’ bad.

You clutch one of your pistols to your chest— deep breath— and you listen carefully, your head leant back against the rock you’re using as cover. Your mind latches on to every sound: each growl, each rumble of earth that marks the movements of the Wanderers that have trapped you here.

You’ve fought worse odds, but then again, you don’t usually have to do it with a broken leg.

Or maybe just sprained? You shift a little, trying to move, and the pain that sears through you settles the debate in an instant. Your teeth sink into the back of your hand to keep you from crying out.

You hope Xavier’s ok. You sent him your co-ordinates minutes ago, and the lack of response has worry gnawing away at the deepest parts of you. You check your hunter’s watch.

Still nothing.

Another deep breath, and you readjust your position as much as you can. Balancing on your good leg, you manage to peer over the top of the rock to get a visual of your surroundings.

There’s four, no— five Wanderers. Stupid no-hunt zone; you’re never not outnumbered.

You can see your second pistol, abandoned in the middle of the clearing where you’d dropped it. There’s flickers of movement, too: further in the woods. More Wanderers. Shit.

You duck behind the rock you’re starting to think might be your new home. Then your watch flickers, broadcasting a map of the area, and there’s the co-ordinates of another hunter, closing in fast.

Something flashes in the clearing, lighting the dark of the forest like a stutter of lightning. Then again. Then again. There’s a blood-curdling roar, and it ends— abrupt— with another flash.

Everything goes silent, save for a familiar voice calling your name.

“Xavier!” you call back.

You peek over the rock to see your partner jogging towards you, dead Wanderers littered behind him. “Are you alright?” he asks, his voice soft as always, but his sword is still dripping blood.

“I’m ok.” You clamber up, using the rock as a seat when the small effort almost breaks you. “You?”

Xavier draws close— his gloved hands on your face, cupping your cheeks. His thumb grazes over a shallow scrape on your brow. “Yeah,” he answers.

“Did you find that weird Wanderer?”

He shakes his head: no. Steps back to check his watch. “It’s probably moved on to a different zone by now.”

“Then we should look for it,” you say, standing up. All of your weight is on one leg.

“Ah,” Xavier ponders, rubbing his neck, “really? I thought we should maybe head back.”

“No need.” And what’s the plan here, exactly? You can’t walk. You definitely can’t fight. Maybe you can wait here while he— no. He’s never going to leave you. “I told you I’m ok.”

“But you’re not.”

“I am,” you assert. You’re determined to convince him and your own, useless body. It’s just a sprain. It is just a sprain. You take a step forwards and stumble, your bad leg crumpling beneath you.

Xavier catches you, strong and solid, and he's holding you like you’re something delicate. He sets you down on the rock again. The pain is making your vision swim.

“You’re hurt,” he reasons gently, even though the truth of it is a knife that’s twisting in your heart. He seems to sense your reluctance: “There’s no shame in admitting that. It happens. Let’s go back.”

“No.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m slowing you down, Xavier!” you gush. Your heart is split open and it has to bleed somewhere. “You have no idea what it’s like… being your partner.”

He’s looking at you with so much guilt and gods, you wish that somewhere was anywhere but his hands. “What do you mean?” he asks on a shaky breath.  

“I love working with you.” Soften the blow. “I love being with you, but you don’t need me. You’re this incredible hunter. This figure of legend, of everyone’s stories. You can do so much on your own and I just don’t know how to keep up. I mean, look at me— I can’t.”

You feel sick. Empty. “You shouldn’t have to hang back for me,” you finish limply. “You’re you, Xavier. You can fight like a hundred Wanderers and still come out unscathed.”

The blue of Xavier’s eyes has grown understandably more turbulent, though it settles a little. He seems to relax. “Yeah… about that,” he mumbles hesitantly.

He turns around and your mouth drops. A savage cut drapes like a crimson sash down his back, splitting the white of his uniform. It’s not deep enough to be fatal, but it’s not good, either.

“Wha— Xavier!” you exclaim, trying to surge forwards, but your pain keeps you rooted. “You said you were ok!”

“So did you,” he frowns, bewildered. “Can we get out of—”

“Yeah, yeah.” You let him take your arm and help you to your feet.

He leads you through the clearing and into the forest, supporting your weight as you hop along beside him. There’s a murmur about how he should carry you, but you’re quick to reassure him he’s doing enough. You’re both hurting; you both just need to survive the short walk out of the no-hunt zone, where a med team can take over.

“You don’t slow me down, you know,” Xavier says quietly, after a minute of silence. “You’re the reason I can keep going.”

You squeeze his arm affectionately, mustering a smile even though you’re nauseous with pain and the idea that he’s been dwelling on your speech this whole time. “Well,” you chuckle through gritted teeth, “you’re gonna have to learn how to get by without me.”

“Huh?” He gives you a curious look.

You glance down at your leg. “Zayne’s gonna kill me...”

Zayne ❄

“I’m a doctor.”

You stop what you’re doing to fix Zayne with a questioning stare. “Ok…?”

“I’ve published dozens of research papers. Pioneered new surgical techniques. My work on Evol-based regenerative properties still has lasting implications for my field, and I’ve the accolades to show for it. The Starcatcher Award. The Linde Award, too— I was the youngest ever recipient.”

None of this is news to you, and you can’t help chuckling at this change in your usually-humble physician. You humour him: “The youngest ever recipient, huh?” There’s a crack as you split an egg on the side of the bowl in front of you. “That’s very impressive.”

“Is it?”

Zayne stands from his seat at your kitchen table: you hear the chair draw back. You feel his presence arrive behind you as you continue to stir your soon-to-be cookie dough. “Yeah,” you lilt with a smile.

“Really?” he pushes again, and his arms wrap around you as he bends to speak into your ear. “Because someone seems to think I can’t even recognise a—” he nips at it— “sprained ankle.”

His breath is warm on your neck and you let out a giggle. “Keep speaking to me like that and these cookies are never making it into the oven. Or your stomach.”

The man relents. He releases you, not returning to his seat but opting to lean against the kitchen counter instead. You glance up at him; he stares back, waiting for an actual answer.

“My ankle is fine, Zayne.”

There’s a sigh as he crosses his arms.

“It is,” you insist, even though you did sprain your ankle at work today, it does hurt like hell, and you do just want to sit down. You reach for the flour you’d measured out previously, tipping it into the larger bowl. “If it wasn’t, would I really be here— making you cookies?”

“Yes,” he says plainly.

“You’re delusional.”

“Ok.”  

Well, that was a little too easy. Don’t overthink it, and definitely don’t read into the fact that he’s standing there oh-so-smugly, like he knows something you don’t. You finish stirring the flour into the mixture, then add the last of the ingredients. Just a pinch of salt, and then…

Where did you put the chocolate chips? You glance about yourself but they’re nowhere in sight. “Hey, Zayne? Have you seen the—”

“This cupboard,” he indicates with an upwards nod of his head. His eyes are relentless. “Top shelf.”

Ah. That’s ok. You’ve totally got this. You move beneath the cupboard, opening it and gazing up into the contents. You can see the pack of chocolate chips. You can get up there somehow, right?

“Would you like me to—” Zayne starts, but you cut him off:

“Nope.” You put your hands on your hips. “Please— if I can climb the back of an alive, awake, and very angry deluge wyrmlord to put a sword through its skull, I think I can make it onto the kitchen counter in one piece. Lemme just…”

Your knee lifts. You make it about a centimetre from the floor before Zayne’s hands are on your waist, grounding you. “Stop,” he instructs, and it's not a tone that allows for any rebuttal. Satisfied by your silence, he brings the chocolate chips down to you.

“Thanks,” you say quietly as they’re placed on the counter.

“You’re welcome."

Sheepishly, you spill a generous amount of chocolate chips into the cookie mixture. Your throat hurts in the way that keeps you from saying anything more. You already feel like an idiot, and your eyes are watering, threatening to make you look like even more of one.

Zayne’s hand appears in front of you, hovering over the bowl. You laugh in understanding: giving the half-empty bag another shake so chocolate chips fall into his palm.

“You… don’t have to explain yourself,” he says as he lifts them to his mouth. His next words are muffled: “But you can tell me anything, my love. I never want you to feel as though you can’t.”

You chuckle again; you can’t help yourself. Look at him: your oh-so-serious doctor shovelling chocolate into his mouth. He raises an eyebrow at you, his lips still on his palm.

“I know I can tell you anything,” you smile, the ache in your throat receding, however much the rest of you hurts. “I did sprain my ankle. It’s not that I wanted to hide it from you, it’s just—” you stop stirring the mixture— “it’s just that your whole life is taking care of people at the hospital. You should get a break from it. You should get to be Zayne, here… at home. Just Zayne, not Doctor Zayne.”

Zayne’s hazel eyes have taken on a hue of regret. He pushes his glasses further up the bridge of his nose, buying himself a few seconds as he contemplates. “Are you a doctor?” he asks after a moment.

“No?”

“And yet, here you are, taking care of me.” He reaches for the abandoned packet of chocolate chips. “Tell me, does it feel like work to you?”

“Yeah,” you tease, drawing the packet away from his stretching fingers in explanation; you’re both grinning.

“Well, it never feels like work to me. Just Zayne likes taking care of you. And right now? He wants to bundle you up on the sofa and finish these cookies for you.”

You purse your lips: that’s some dubious wording. “Zayne, hell will freeze over before I leave you and this cookie dough unsupervised.”

He shushes you, pulling on the cord of your apron until the bow at your back comes loose. Before you can protest, he’s wearing the apron himself.

“Zayne, I’m not kidding. I know what you’re gonna do. You’re gonna get rid of me, and then you’ll—”

“Shh,” he coos again, whisking you carefully off your feet, because it’s time for a taste of your own medicine. “You’re delusional.”

Rafayel 🔥

“Mmhmm. Mmhmm.”

“Raf, who are you—”

He holds out a finger to shush you. “Mmhmm.”

You cross your arms impatiently. Who is he even talking to, anyway? His lilac eyes are locked on you as he continues humming away, apparently very invested in whatever the person on the phone is saying; you’ve never seen him go this long without talking.

He narrows his eyes at you. You narrow your eyes right back.

All around you, guests of the exhibition are milling about, all dressed to the nines and minding their business, however much they want the attention of the man in front of you. A few of them linger as they pass him, like they want to say something, like they’re going to say something…

But they don’t.

It’s a wonder that Rafayel stands out in the crowd as much as he does. You’d seamlessly located him, back from your third trip to the bathroom to check on the bandages you’ve managed to conceal beneath this dress. He’s still holding your purse for you, his phone in his other hand, except—

That’s your phone. That’s your phone! “Rafayel!”

He shushes you again. “I understand,” he says solemnly, notably not to you, “thanks for letting me know.” The call is ended. He takes a deep, collected breath, then looks at you. “I knew it!”

“Knew what? Who was that?”

“Zayne.”

“You called Zayne?”

“Like I had a choice!” Rafayel retaliates. It is true; he’s spent the entire evening trying to get you to admit something was wrong, and you had no intention of giving him that pleasure. “You’re supposed to be in the hospital! What kind of idiot breaks out of the hospital?”

The lack of irony in the question almost breaks you. “Umm… you?! Like every other week?!”

He shrugs. “That’s different.”

“Rafayel, I swear, I’m gonna— ah!” you gasp in pain. You’d stepped forwards too quickly— maybe to strangle him, but that’s neither here nor there— and the wound on your side is clearly on his side. It stings like hell: punishing you, and you know the pain is self-inflicted.

Rafayel frowns in concern, maybe even guilt, and that’s why you didn’t tell him. “C’mon, we should go,” he insists gravely.

“It’s fine, Raf. It doesn’t even—”

“Stop lying! You said you wouldn’t hide stuff like this from me. You promised, remember?”

You’re losing track of all the promises you’ve made to the Lemurian, but you do remember that one. Guilt has its teeth in you, too. “I know,” you grumble, “I’m sorry, ok? I just knew—”

“What?”

“That you’d act like this! You’ve been working on this exhibition for months, Raf. Tonight is supposed to be about you. Not me— you. And I want it to stay that way. Everyone’s here to celebrate you and your work, and that’s how it should be. That’s what I want. To support you. To be here for you.”

Your voice has gone timid. You finish meekly: “Can’t you let me do this for you? Please?”

Rafayel’s eyes are wide and still the prettiest things you’ve ever seen, even in a room full of masterpieces and jewels you could never afford. They shine with uncertainty, but soften as he smiles, full of fondness and affection. “That’s sweet. But also? Really dumb.”

“Raf—”

“The only— and I mean only— reason I’m here tonight is because you are. I don’t care about what anyone thinks about me or my paintings. Just you. And you can see this?” He gestures around the gallery. “Anytime. My life’s your private exhibition, cutie. Exclusive access, 24/7, and I wouldn’t want it any other way.”

He steps closer to you: close enough that he can see the tear that’s made it halfway down your cheek. He wipes it away with a chuckle. “Plus,” he adds, “I know you know I’m amazing. You don’t need these old sourpusses to tell you that, do you?”

You laugh tentatively. “No, I don’t.”

Your injury protests as you use the lapels on Rafayel’s blazer to pull him closer; you have to stand on your tiptoes to kiss his cheek. He’s still grinning as he draws away, a light blush on his cheeks, but the sweetness of the moment vanishes as his gaze drifts lower.

“My eyes are up here, Rafayel.”

“Yeah…” he concedes mindlessly, but then he points: “you know you’re like, bleeding, right?”

You glance downwards to where the red of your dress is turning darker. There’s just a small splotch, but it’s growing. Shit. You must have reopened the wound.

“Thomas?” you hear Rafayel call, and then he’s stuffing a silk handkerchief into your hands— helping you apply pressure. “We have to get out of here,” he explains as a figure joins you.

His agent folds his arms; this is not dissimilar to stunts you and Rafayel have pulled before. “Fake blood, guys? Really?” He pinches the bridge of his nose. “You can’t leave, Rafayel. I can just see the headlines tomorrow…”

“Dashing artist selflessly flees exhibition to save devoted bodyguard,” Rafayel concurs with a nod.

Thomas groans. “That’s not what they’re going to—”

“Help me out with this, cutie?”

“Yes, sir,” you mock salute.

A moment later, Rafayel has scooped you up into his arms. Your hero; he gives you a conspiratorial wink before glancing about frantically. “Quickly!” he cries out. “Everyone out of the way, please!”

“For the love of—” Thomas starts.

“Oh, gods!” you shout in agony. “It hurts. It hurts!”

Heads turn. Cameras flash.

Tomorrow morning, half of Linkon will be talking about one of their favourite celebrities and his long-envied bodyguard. A news article will pop-up on her doctor’s phone, and he’ll see the pictures and sigh.

Sylus 🩸

“It’s not too late to back down, sweetie,” Sylus sneers.

“Aw, but you got all dressed up for the occasion.”

Your eyes rake over the outline of the man’s abs, courtesy of the tank top he’s wearing, and it does take the sting out of the fact that he’ll be trying to hit you. He holds his wrapped hands before him, ready to defend, ready to attack. He’ll probably attack, right?

“Last chance,” he growls.

“Is it, though?” This is the third ‘last chance’ you’ve been given in the five minutes you’ve been teetering on combat. You beckon him with a curl of your fingers. “Come on, Sylus. This is getting old.”

He scoffs: “How do you think I feel?”

“Like you’re about to get your ass kicked?”

“Alright, enough.” His hands drop and it feels like you’re back at the academy, about to be scolded for not taking something seriously. Sylus turns his back on you. Moves to the edge of the boxing ring so he can retrieve a stool from outside of it and sit down in a huff. He starts peeling the wraps from his knuckles, and— wait, is he mad? Like, actually mad?

“What’s wrong, Sy?”

He laughs as though you’re missing something dreadfully obvious. Maybe irony.

“Sylus?”

“You really are heartless, sweetie. You know that?”

The words steal your breath away, if only for a moment. Yours is a relationship of pulled punches, but he won’t meet your gaze and that one was real, wasn’t it? He wanted it to sting. “Why—”

“I could have hurt you,” he snaps, his dishevelled, snowy hair falling to cover his eyes. His discarded wraps slide from his hands, pooling by his feet like blood. “You were going to let me hurt you.”

He looks at you, finally, but it’s not in the way you want. His gaze is cast low, trailing over your body and making you feel every bruise, every closed cut that wants to reopen and every ache, rooted almost to bone. You’d done your best to hide it, even going so far as to press make-up hastily over your purpled skin.

That Wanderer really did a number on you yesterday.  

“You should have told me,” Sylus says, since you’ve made it onto the same page. “Honestly, kitten. Why would you—”

“Because Luke and Kieran told me, ok?”

Oh, they’re going to kill you. It was supposed to be a secret, and here you are, spilling like a fresh wound because you can’t stand the thought of Sylus being upset with you. You step closer, scrambling to dissect what you’ve done right in front of his eyes— holding it out to him: this is why. This is why. “They said you had a rough week. Some deals of yours had fallen through or something. And I’ve been too busy. I haven’t called, I haven’t even texted, and…”

You need him to understand, but the truth is a mess in your hands and how do you even start to explain it to him?

“You wanted to do something for me,” he finishes for you, and you don’t have to explain a thing.

“Yeah…” you confirm, bittersweet and still sad. “You do so much for me, Sylus. I just wanted to do what you wanted, for a change.”

Maybe it’s a round of boxing. Maybe it’s a dozen illicit dealings where he needs you to play enforcer— it doesn’t matter. As long as he’s happy.

“Come here,” he orders gently.

You close the rest of the rift between you, letting him reach for you and pull you closer. His knees have spread so you can slot against him, and his arms circle around you— trapping you— as he nuzzles into the warmth of your stomach.

“I’m sorry I called you heartless,” he speaks into you, his voice muffled as he gives you a chaste kiss. He then cranes his head upwards, resting his chin against you so he can profess more clearly: “I do worry about you, kitten.”

“I know—” your hands move to his head— “I’m sorry too. I shouldn’t have lied to you.”

“Mmm,” he hums in accordance, maybe even forgiveness, and his eyes close as your fingers card through the soft of his hair. “I lied too.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he confesses on a contented sigh. “I didn’t want to spend today… boxing.”

“What do you want to do today, Sy?”

His eyes flicker open and his hands find your hips. “What I really want…” he contemplates, as his thumbs slip under the hem of your shirt to rub circles on your skin, “is to take care of you.”

There are lifetimes of need in his gaze.

“Won’t you let me take care of you, sweetie?”

…

“If he finds the terms so disagreeable, then he’s more than welcome to take his business elsewhere. Although—” Sylus’s voice is cold— “he might find his other options less… amenable than when he saw them last. Less communicative, too. You can tell him I said so.”

He ends the phone call. Smiles. “Sorry about that, sweetie.”

“Are the boys ok?”

The smile widens, even though you can’t see it. “They’re fine.”

Phone set aside, Sylus carries on with the important business Kieran’s call had distracted him from. You’re half asleep, your head in his lap as he brushes your hair: rose-scented and soft from the bath he’d drawn for you, hours ago. Every bandage is fresh and clean. Every ache has been dulled with a lazy massage and more chaste kisses, for good measure.

“Perfect day,” you mumble blissfully.

“Perfect day,” Sylus agrees.

[bwabys-scenarios]

Making you a mother

Laois x Fem!Reader

!!REBLOGS APPRECIATED!!

A/N: this is a request from AO3!! Short but sweet ^^

warnings: big breeding kink, reader gets pregnant, Laois is really insistent on filling you up with his cum, biting, overstimulation

Laois held onto your hips, squeezing the soft flesh as he pulled you close to rub his bulge against your needy pussy. “You’re so pretty…”

His eyes were slightly hazy with lust, and you couldn’t help but whine, rubbing against him desperately. “P-please, Laois! I need it!”

The feeling of his calloused fingers tracing over your belly made you shiver in anticipation. Lately, you had noticed how focused on making sure you were well fed he was, along with fascinated with your tummy.

“Gonna…” he murmured, his fingers pressing down on the fatty part of your belly that protected your uterus. “gonna put a baby there, okay? Gonna…”

Your cheeks flushed with heat, the wet spot in your panties growing. Laois had never talked like that before, you didn’t even think he wanted children…

His thumb rubbed against your clothed clit as his lips pressed against your neck. “You want it? Want me to make you a mommy?”

“P-please…” you managed to choke out through your whimpers and panting. “Need it so bad!”

“Anything for you, sunshine…”

He pulled off your underwear, his cock rubbing against your dripping pussy. Usually he was insistent on eating you out, but today he desperately needed to fill you up with his cum. Laois needed to breed you more than he needed to breathe air.

He pushed in, groaning against your neck as your pussy clenched around him, eager to drain him of all his cum from the get go. “That’s my baby, gonna fill you up, promise…”

Laois fucked into you, biting down on your neck hard enough to have you yelp. But the pain ebbed away into pleasure, and his teeth were replaced with his lips, kissing away at the red mark.

“Sorry, love… can’t help it…”

He was hitting that special spot, making you cry out his name. “L-Laois, please don’t stop!”

Your nails dug into the soft flesh of his back, making him let out a sharp hiss. “Won’t, I promise…”

And he was right. Even hours later, when you were beyond exhausted and stuffed full of cum, he was still hitting that special spot, making you cum on his cock over and over.

“T-too much…” you were being fucked stupid, barely able to speak.

“Shh, you can take it. Gotta make sure it takes…”

He lightly pressed down on your belly, making his cum squirt out of you. Laois pouted a little.

“Looks like I’ll have to go again…”

———————

A few months later, you sat with Marcille as she fawned over your baby bump. “Oh, I can’t wait to be an Aunt! Do you think the baby will call me Auntie Marcille?”

You laughed, glancing at Laois as Falin and him watched the two of you through the doorway. “Probably. Marcille might be a mouthful for a baby though.”

“What about Marcy!?”

Laois and Falin cracked up, causing the blonde elf to blush. “W-what are you two laughing at?”

“Nothing… it just seems like you’re more eager for the baby to come than (Name) and I are.” Laois said, taking you into his arms. His hand brushed over your belly, his thumb rubbing against the bump softly.

Falin smiled warmly. “I think we’re all excited. Senshi has already started mapping out a meal plan for (Name)’s pregnancy.”

“Haha, he said he’ll teach the baby everything he knows, and Chilchuck is already giving me advice,” you said, laughing. “It’s sweet, you know they say raising a child takes a village… you guys are our village.”

Marcille started crying, hugging you. “Oh stop it, I’m going to cry!”

“Dear, you’re already crying.” Falin replied, kissing the top of her head.

You and Laois shared a kiss before he led you away by the hand. “Sorry ladies, but my wife needs a nap.”

Laois curled up next to you in bed, his face nuzzled into your neck. “Rest, my love.”

And you did, curled up with your beloved.

[totallynotashieldagent]

Kinktober 2024 - Thigh Riding

Pairing: Jason Todd/Reader

Jason wasn’t an idiot. He’d seen you look at him whenever he came home and changed into his normal clothes. He saw the way you looked at him, biting your lip, eyeing him up and down when he was in his fitted gear– 

Today, however, you were just sitting on his lap- well, on his thigh. Leaning back, as the movie played. A dumb action movie, all special effects, and barely any plot. Perfect for a lazy night. Him in his sweatpants and a vest. You in your oversized, got at a thrift-store nightshirt and cotton panties- And it was, honest to god it was a lazy night until he shifted a little and leaned over to grab a beer and you moved ever to slightly and your brain short-circuited perfectly. 

It wasn’t that you hadn’t thought about it. Of course, you had. There was a whole subreddit dedicated to Jason’s fucking thighs as the Hood. You hated how everyone salivated at your boyfriend but god how you loved all the pictures people posted on there. 

Would be a lie if you said you didn’t get yourself off to it. There was one where he-

“Baby, what are you doing?” His voice was hot against your neck.

“Nothing-” You said, pretending you were watching the movie, as if you hadn't completely tuned out everything apart from just the feeling of him. As if you weren’t slowly grinding down on his thigh. As if there wasn’t going to be a wet patch on his sweatpants soon enough.

“Don’t feel like nothing, sweetheart.” He murmured, pressing a soft kiss to your neck, his hands squeezing at your hips ever so gently. You didn’t answer, simply leaning forward to have more control on your movements, bracing your hands on his knee as you continued to grind again. But this time you weren’t hiding it anymore. 

“Sweetheart-” Jason exhaled a soft laugh that twisted into a groan, his hands clenching and unclenching at your hips, starting to guide you better. “You wanna-”

“Yes.” You swallowed before he could even ask properly. “ Yes- ” You whimpered again, “Please-” You bit your lip, eyes so focused on the screen that everything was turning into a blur. 

His thigh was so solid and muscular and felt so good but-

“Baby-” He rasped, his voice clearly showing that this was affecting him too. “Let me-” He mumbled against your neck between wet kisses. Lifting you up and pushing his sweat pants down just enough so now your clothed cunt was rubbing against his skin. 

“Jay-” You mewled and your eyes finally screwed shut.

“ Shhh- Let it feel good, sweetheart.” Jason hand was wrapped around his own aching cock as his other hand guided you move better against him. “You wanna make a mess of my thigh, don’t you?” You mumbled a yes, please- need- “A little louder, honey.” He bit your shoulder gently. Not enough to cause any pain or leave marks, just enough to get your attention. 

“Mh- Yes!” You whined, grinding yourself harder against his muscle. 

“ Good girl- Such a pretty thing-” He whispered, pumping himself, his hand under your nigthshirt, squeezing the flesh, kneading his just enough to be bruising but not painful as he moved you. 

“I- Jay- I need-” Words were slowly losing meaning. 

“What?” He licked the side of your neck, making you tilt your neck to the side with soft whimpering moans of more, please, keep going- “Tell me what you need, sweetheart.” His voice is so gentle that anyone would miss the command in it. 

“Move- Move me- I can’t-” It was getting harder to keep the momentum. The friction was starting to get just perfect and your body would twitch away when it got too much. You wanted to concentrate more. 

Jason didn’t need to be told more. His hands moved skillfully, moving the cotton of the underwear to the side, holding it taut as he held you down, grinding you harder and slowly against his thigh. You moaned and nodded, eyes closed, breath broken and nails digging into his knee because it suddenly felt that good . 

He whispered praises, the wetness on his thigh growing as he moved you. That’s my good girl. So close, aren’t you? Are you going to make a mess? Yes- So close, my good girl-  

The filthy praise always got you good. You shuddered broken gasps of breath. You were pretty sure your nails were digging hard enough to draw blood but at this point, you really didn’t care. You were just so, so , close and-

“Baby, won’t you cum for me?” He whispered against your neck, leaving wet open-mouth kisses and that finally- finally did you in. 

Jason kept grinding you down on his thigh, his movements hard and deliberate as you whined and moaned his name like a desperate prayer. Your back arched as you came, your thighs clenching to ride it out and he kept moving you until you fell back against his chest. 

“There you go, sweetheart.” He mused, his palms rubbing softly at your thighs. 

“‘S’good-” You exhaled a laugh, your eyes glassy as you looked over at him. 

Wide smirk on his face, his cock still aching next to you, precum dripping just from seeing you come undone and his thigh soaked from your cum. 

“How about round two?” He turned your face to kiss you properly. 

Kinktober 2024.