#it's quite disappointing but not at all surprising

[spacekiku-blog]

My brainrot worsens with each day so there are my ramblings about Beasts and Shadow Milk Cookie

TW: Spoilers I guess??

Okay, Beasts. When I first saw this name for the new antagonists, I thought "lol fate series got even cookie run" and when they were finally released I was sucked in so hard.

I love the concept of corrupt gods or higher beings. Not just being controlled by something, corrupted or going crazy but specifically their ignorance of using powers or disappointment in how mortals perceive their domains. And while I won't say that the plot of Kingdom and Beasts is a complete mind-blowing thing and the most awesome scenario but compared to the previous plots of Devsisters, this is a big step-up and something that is interesting and well-developed.

Not only in terms of plot but the concepts themselves. Yes, the three Beasts that have come out are based on fairly common things (Buddhism, Hinduism and Christianity). But man they did their homework as hard as they could.

And naturally, even though we already have three Beasts, a lot about them is shrouded in mystery. Especially Shadow Milk Cookie, since we were given absolutely no information about his backstory. The new costume that came out? Honestly, it looks like an AU written by him for shits and giggles. A sort of “What if?”. While it may shed some light on how he behaved as a Fount of Knowledge it says nothing about his past.

With White Flour Cookie and Burning Spice Cookie everything is relatively clear. We were given their plot and what caused their corruption on a silver plate. And, frankly speaking, I think that based on the change in the other two elements of the Beasts, it is relatively clear what most likely happened in their domain of rule that caused their corruption.

Eternal Sugar Cookie was initially “Happiness” – which represents, well, happiness, joy. It is quite possible that her task from the Witches was similar to White Flour Cookie in that she was meant to spread happiness and joy among the Cookies. Well, too much jollity can easily become boring and it also requires a huge amounts of energy which could lead her to Laziness.

At the same time Silent Salt Cookie had the element of “Solidarity” – which essentially means unification, community. It also often means support and mutual assistance. And as we know, if you support everyone around you then it will begin to be perceived as given and in return you get a whole nithing. And because of which he could correspondingly close himself off.

Of course I might be wrong about this predictions. We will see when they will come out.

The fate of the Beasts is tragic. They are Deities created by even Higher Beings with one specific purpose. To distribute/preserve the elements entrusted to them. They were given a huge responsibility reinforced by the expectations of mortal cookies. Give knowledge, grant wishes, monitor changes, spread joy and cultivate friendship. Were they allowed to do anything else? Most likely yes. Were they aware of this from the start? Most likely no.

We, as mortal individuals, often have a hard time breaking away from the expectations of our “creators” (parents) and society. So how can you immediately realize that you are allowed to be someone else, to do something else when you were created with a fixed personality and a certain purpose? So frankly it is not surprising that the Deities saw the one and only way to break the expectations of others and be "free". After all, from the descriptions of White Flour Cookie and Burning Spice Cookie, they could not even realize that there were other ways to release their frustrations.

White Flour Cookie went into depression and apathy as a defense mechanism. And the only way she saw was that if everything was purified (dead), then everyone would be happy. Including herself.

Burning Spice Cookie, feeling the first stimulation in centuries of monotone whatching and waiting, latched onto it, becoming obsessed with it. Addicted to it. He concentrated on this one feeling and forgot that he could find something else.

But Shadow Milk Cookie is a different story. You see, Knowledge is a very powerful thing. In my humble opinion, Shadow Milk is the strongest Beast and God among all if you put aside his personality and focus only on his powers. Unlike other Beasts, from whom Witches could keep some information that they simply do not need for their role - Shadow Milk Cookie knew everything from the very beginning. About what Cookies are grown for, how this world works, how personality develops and many, many other things.

Unlike other Beasts Shadow Milk Cookie knew there could be another way. And it's just such a rich soil for theories, headcanons and the reason I'm so obsessed with him.

Was he trying to save his brothers and sisters by trying to show them another way? How much knowledge did he share with them? How much did he keep back? And how much did he lie to them?

After all judging by the description of Shadow Milk Cookie knowledge consists of truth and lies. Lies appeared at the same time as Shadow Milk Cookie himself as a Fount of Knowledge. Which means he could have started lying from the very beginning. I like to think and headcanon that the first one to start "corrupting" was Shadow Milk Cookie. Or rather, that he was initially already corrupted by the knowledge he had access to.

This is what makes his personality so interesting to me - he knew everything. He saw everything. Not only the destruction of his domain of knowledge but the signs of destruction of other domains. How White Flour Cookie finds it increasingly difficult to fulfill wishes and not receive even a simple thank you in return. How Burning Spice Cookie became increasingly bored with the same cycle of history. And perhaps how Eternal Sugar Cookie gets tired of the eternal celebration and Silent Salt Cookie loses control over attempts to unite everyone.

How desperate was he about all this? Or was there a cold pragmatism deep inside him that said, “this is what has to happen”? Or was he fascinated by it? How were his Deity friends changing? Maybe he was egging them on because he, too, was bored with his knowledge?

Beasts are lonely. Deities are lonely. Even their own race can barely understand each other since their minds were created for specific purposes. And you don't want to lose face in front of equally powerful beings.

Only Shadow Milk Cookie could understand them all. And yet no one can understand him.

No one can carry as much knowledge as he does. No one can even come close to understanding his burden. To come close to him. I wonder becouse of this did he became a jester and a showman? After all, the truth of his existence is as bitter as sour milk.

I wonder if he was always a "jester"? Judging by his behavior in the new costume, there is still some "softening" in his actions, intonation, expressions. Not exactly condescension, but as if embellishment of his words, his "truth". In the end, information is best absorbed through play. Through associations. He playfully invites you to debate with him, he gestures while telling about something.

Is Shadow Milk that far removed from his past as a Fount of Knowledge?

Maybe he was always like this? Less cunning and selfish but just as playful, humorous, and perhaps even deceitful. It's just that when everyone finally became "monsters", Beasts, there was no longer a need to satisfy the needs of mortals and it was time to focus on his own.

Maybe he helped other Beasts become corrupted so that he himself could finally allow himself to "play" for himself and not for others?

I squeeze him like anti-stress toy. I don't know for what purpose this ramblings of mine but maybe you will able to take some interesting insights for yourself.

And I'm not even starting about his relationship with Pure Vanilla Cookie not even as a ship thing.

Man I need help

[sunflowervoltwentyeight]

Happy 28th! Here is my February 2025 fic rec, organized by word count, from longest to shortest. You can view my other fic recs here. Enjoy!

Wildflower by blueskiesrry / @blueskiesrry (112k)

“You look like a wildflower,” Louis comments, shielding his eyes from the sun, the crinkles near them even more prominent in this light.

“What?” Harry’s words stumble over a surprised laugh.

“With your hair all fluffy like that.”

Harry’s fingers automatically find their way into his hair as he silently curses the humidity out on the water.

“He kind of does, doesn’t he?” Elizabeth adds.

Louis tilts his head to the side, smile softening and blurred around the edges. “Our very own long-stemmed wildflower.”

-

or: a 1950s hollywood story spanning half a decade where harry and louis are constantly growing towards, away from, & around each other and everything harry wants are things he can’t have.

Through Eerie Chaos Series by MediaWhore / @mediawhorefics (103k)

Through Eerie Chaos (102k) For as long as anyone can remember, Old Hillsbridge Manor has always been believed to be haunted. Everyone in the village agrees and keeps a respectful, fearful, distance. New in town after a bad breakup and an internship that led to disappointment rather than a permanent job, Harry Styles figures taking pictures of the decrepit building could be a great new creative project. Or at least a much-needed distraction while he searches for a job and crashes at his parents’ new house. No one warned him about the apparitions though; about the music, the laughter, the people who flicker and vanish when you call after them, the echoes of a past that should be long gone… Harry has never believed in spirits but even he can admit that there’s something weird going on. What starts as mere curiosity evolves into a full-blown investigation and soon enough, Harry finds himself making friends with an aristocrat from the 1920s and struggling with finding the best way to tell him that he’s dead. The Ghost Hunter AU where Niall lives to prove ghosts are real, Zayn is a skeptical librarian and Harry gets caught up in a century-old mystery and catches feeling in the process. Peace In Your Arms (1k) The happily ever after ...

I Could Fall In Love With You by tippitytap / @tippitytap (55k)

If Louis were asked to describe Harry's role in his life, the answer would have always been quite simple: best friend.

Since last year, the answer might have also been: housemate and co-parent to the cats.

What Louis didn't think would ever happen was that the answer would one day change to: the man he was falling deeply in love with.

or: Right at the beginning of a nationwide lockdown might be the worst time to fall in love with your childhood best friend and housemate. But if Louis knew one thing, it was that Harry and he would always find a way through life together.

Carry This Feeling by Awriterwrites, dimpled_halo / @a-writerwrites (49k)

There’s something about Louis Tomlinson that makes Harry feel unhinged. It’s in the other man’s stare, in the way he looks at Harry like he knows he’s hiding something. Like he’s not really all he says he is.

Harry’s not so sure it’s fear he’s feeling. Maybe it’s something deeper. Ever since Louis walked into his house, he’s felt on edge. He’s just being himself after all, and that’s usually enough to get just about anyone to drop their pants. But...it’s clearly not working on Louis Tomlinson. It dredges up something oily and unpleasant inside Harry. He doesn’t like it.

He’s got to lock that shit down tight.

*** Harry knows, objectively, that he shouldn't try to get his ghostwriter into bed. He knows. But...he finds it hard to resist temptation when Louis waltzes into his home and his life and turns everything upside down. And, as it turns out, Louis might just need a little turning upside down too.

Salt in Your Wounds by Halos_Boat / @halohamilton (32k)

Harry and Louis have been with each other since university; together for almost a decade and married for seven years when their marriage starts to take a tumble.

Harry doesn't think there's anything worth saving anymore, so he leaves. Louis doesn't see the use of stopping him, so he let's Harry go.

Beige by blueskiesrry / @blueskiesrry (5k)

Harry finds it hot–he always does–the way Louis is so attentive, but he finds himself more drawn to Niall and Zayn, watching as the two of them whisper softly to one another, having their own conversation in the midst of the larger, group one, one of their hands coming up to run soothingly along the other’s thigh. It reminds him of him and Louis in their early days, so completely enthralled with one another, caught up in the novelty and freshness. There could be twenty people in a room, and he’d only have eyes for one.

He glances at Louis every now and again to see if he notices as well, and Louis watches some, but he mostly watches Harry.

 or: harry and louis are in love on valentine's day. louis pretends he hates it. they host game night for their friends.

Different Than You Do by galactic_larry / @galacticlarry (2k)

Louis and Harry have been friends for a little over four years. Louis has been in love with Harry for most of those years, even if he didn’t want to admit it at first.

What happens when he impulsively decides to tell him?

Don't Call Me Baby by 28sunflowers / @vintageumbroshirt (2k)

A short and cliché roommates AU inspired by To Be So Lonely, where they’re both oblivious to each other’s feelings and Harry gets sad and jealous over nothing. It works out in the end.

Happy Valentine's Day, You Cockroach by allwaswell16 / @allwaswell16 (2k)

Harry Styles, new director of the Milltown Zoo, has a great idea for a Valentine's Day themed fundraiser. For a donation, they'll name cockroaches after people's exes and then feed them to the meerkats on a live stream. He just didn't foresee how many cockroaches would end up with his name...

[wlwsoccerfics]

Scary Movie(Matilda TeensXKatrinaGorryXCaitlinFoordXStephCatleyFeatKyra&Charli)

A/N: it's a bit of a silly one but i Hope you like it.

Summary: Kyra and charli make you,Haven(McFoordsDaughter) & Wren(Stephs daughter) watch a Horror Movie and now the three of you can't sleep.

You lay in bed, hiding behind your stuffed dog, well technically it was Harper's but since you were Sisters you thought you could just give it a cuddle. To help with how scared you were. Kyra and Charli made you watch Evil Dead Rise and now you couldn't sleep. Neither could Wren, one of your best friend and Stephs daughter. She was lying awake as well. You Guys may be badass but the Line was drawn at Horror movies.

When your Mom and Steph came in the room they saw both of you still awake. It was 11pm by now. Your bedtime was an hour ago cause you had an early morning practice. Harper was asleep in your mom's Arms. She laid her down.

"why are the two of you still awake?" Steph asked. Both you and Wren looked at Mini and Steph. Not wanting to tell on Kyra and Charli. But you looked like both of you have seen ghosts and were terrified now. Which you were.

"we talked..." You lied. Your mom gave you a look that said 'i know you are lying '.

"y/n..." You blushed a bit cause you knew you got caught.

"we watched a scary movie before bedtime and now we can't sleep!" You admitted.

"what movie did you watch?" Steph asked. Both her and your Mom were quite surprised because you and Wren hated scary stuff.

"Evil Dead Rise." Wren told them. Before your Mom and Steph could react Haven walked in with Caitlin.

"I knew you couldn't sleep either!" Haven answered and cuddled up with Harper, Wren and you.

"what i don't get is that all three of you are afraid of scary movies so why on earth would you watch this one. Which clearly isn't age appropriate!" Caitlin stated.

Your Mom was quiet for a moment before she had an idea what was going on.

"my guess now, that i think about it is Kyra and Charli have something to do with it. Am i correct with my guess?" Your Mom asked. Steph looked like she was ready to k*ll the two.

"uh yeah!" Haven admitted.

"i will k*ll them!" Steph stated .

"let me help!" Your Mom answered.

"let's get these two in here! We need to talk about it." Catilin said. Steph texted the two to come to the room cause they needed to talk about something with them.

The two knew exactly what this was about because they walked in like two kicked puppies around 5 minutes later. Your Mom told them to sit down right away. So they sat down on the little couch.

"what were the two of you thinking? Neither of the three can sleep now? You know they don't like scary stuff and then you Show them a movie that totally isn't meant to be watched by them." Your Mom stated. It was clear how upset and angry she was. What got to Kyra and Charli the most was the disappointed look they got from all three adults in the room.

"it was just a joke. We didn't realize it would be this bad!" Charli admitted.

"yeah and we are really sorry." Kyra stated. There was a loud noise outside and you jumped out of bed right away, running into your mom's Arms. You were quite scared. Haven was hiding under the blanket while Wren cuddled up to a sleeping Harper. Your Mom was rubbing your back gently.

"See how this joke turned out?" Steph asked.

"we want to make this right. but i am not sure how." Charli said.

"we can stay here with them all night. trying to make sure that they know nothing is gonna come for them." Kyra offered.

"i know nothing is gonna come for me, deep down i know...but it's still...don't know how to say it." Haven told everyone.

"yes what Haven said!" You agreed and so did Wren.

"you two staying here with them is still a good idea." Catilin replied to them.

"maybe staying awake with three scared teens will make you think twice before doing something like that again!" Steph said and sighed softly.

"i will stay here as well!" Your mom stated. Steph and Caitlin both offered to take shifts with your Mom but your Mom didn't mind staying awake with you guys. She was just relieved that Harper was asleep and didn't care about all of this what has been happening around her.

So it took around two more hours and lots of sweet Story telling from your mom before Haven, Wren, Kyra, Charli & you ended up asleep. You somehow managed to all fit in one bed with your Mom and Harper.

You all got 6 hours of sleep somehow before you all had to get ready for the day.

[softpascalito]

Dulcissima I Marcus Acacius x Vestal!Reader I Chapter XVI - Brundisium

Summary: Set before and during Gladiator II. General Acacius finds himself entranced by a highly valued priestess of Rome – A Vestal Virgin. But you both have taken vows that make sure your paths may never cross. Until they do.

Aka a fix-it fanfic where Acacius survives the Colosseum.

Pairing: Marcus Acacius x Vestal Virgin Reader Rating: Explicit / MDNI Word count: 49k+ Tags: Secret Relationship, Vestal Virgins, Religious Guilt, Gladiator fights, Gladiator II compliant (more or less), Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Ancient Rome, Age Difference, Slow Burn (ish), Injury, Kissing, Historical Inaccuracy, (Attempted) Sexual Harassment, Smut, First Time, Oral Sex (f receiving), Vaginal Sex, Unprotected Sex, Slight Breeding Kink, Semi-Public Sex, Pining, More tags to be added

AO3 // Series Masterlist // Masterlist // Fic Playlist // Ko-Fi

notes: hello babes! i am so excited to share this chapter, it's another one that had me doing a lot of research. that being said, i just wanted to put out a reminder that while i try to make this somewhat accurate to customs and actual life in 210AD, i take some creative liberty (the same way gladiator does) so please don't take everything in this fic as historically accurate! and now have fun, love you ♡

vestibulum - entryway (sort of)

Chapter XVI - Brundisium

You don’t plan to visit the shops again before leaving Beneventum. In fact, you don’t even think about them again. The only reminders of your trip out of the cage are the fruits still sitting in the worn bag the vendor forced on you and the sinking pit in your stomach. At least the fruit actually comes in handy because when it is time for the evening meal, you can claim a stomach ache and stay in the upstairs room instead, feeding yourself on apples and grapes.

Very briefly, your mind entertains the look Acacius’ face must carry when he shows up for the meal to find you absent. You would have thought he may come upstairs, may at least check on you. After all, he claims you're his responsibility. There is a tiny part of you that is actually disappointed to not hear his footsteps on the upstairs landing again throughout the evening. His room must be close to yours, one of the many doors leading off to the sides of the atrium.

The next morning, you are up before dawn. And so is your guard. Stationed right outside your door, leaving you not the slightest chance of escape. So Acacius kept his word. Guarded at all times. No more sneaking off. And this trip could very well last many weeks, if not months. Lovely.

“It is quite early,” the bearded man states quietly when you step out of your room, already fully dressed. Sleep just wouldn't come tonight. Sometimes you feel like it does more easily in the tents that, despite offering less comforts than a villa, feel closer to nature. Moonlight filtering through cracks between the heavy drapes, cicadas playing in the distance. You’re certain tonight will be better.

“Yes,” you say quietly, not exactly wanting to wake Acacius or the couple of the house and alert them to your plans. You ponder your words for a few moments before nodding toward the stairs. “I wish to pay a short visit into town. To pray at the temple.”

You can see the man weighing his options. You’re sure that Acacius has left very clear instructions. But to your surprise, he nods. “Very well. But please wear a coat. And only a brief visit. We need be here when your carriage arrives.” You find your coat and a colorful scarf before he can change his mind and step into the morning air, the cold more noticeable at this time of day. There is still dew covering the gardens, the sun only starting to rise.

The soldiers nod as you and your guard pass them and you try to push the upset at this notion out of your mind. Instead, you focus on your goal. The temple is empty when you reach it and despite the slightly different architecture and circumstances, it makes you feel a bit more at home.

“I will wait by the door, my lady,” the man hums quietly, retreating into the shadows, even though you are sure he is still keeping a watchful eye on you.

You kneel and say your prayers, finding that if you close your eyes and take a deep breath, the memories that are awoken feel so close that you seem to be able to touch them. Vesta’s temple back home. Your room. The streets of Rome. The people of Rome.

It suddenly appears to you that the only person you truly know so many miles from your bed is Acacius. That none of the townsfolk or soldiers even know your full name. They don’t see past the veil, nor do they care to try.

Your personal guard opens the heavy oak doors for you after you return to his side and your eyes flick to the left, toward the main street that is slowly starting to come to life.

“May I interest you in a sweet treat?” No matter how gruff and broad and scary a man is, you doubt there is anyone in the empire who doesn't enjoy an occasional sweet. And you are counting on him to be the same.

You can feel the man pause beside you. “My lady?” He asks, his face betraying no emotion as he turns to face you. You give him a smile, nodding toward the street.

“The bakery over there. I would like something. If you are already guaranteeing my safety, the least I can do is see to your rations.” You explain, as if buying a man that has been assigned to guard you against your will sweet treats is the most normal thing in the world.

It is when you have secured your baked goods and are heading back onto the street, the sun now fully risen, that you spot the small cart of fruits. Early shoppers are already haggling with the old man, discussing the prices of his apples and you fumble with your coins, picking a few golden ones and sneaking them into the man's coinbox in passing. You don't miss your guard’s eyes following your movements, raising a brow. When you are out of earshot, you let out a small wince. “Please do not tell.”

You can see him pause for a moment, his gaze staying fixed on the road before you. Then, he shakes his head ever so slightly. “I don't see how it concerns me.” You almost think you see a tiny smirk play around his lips.

You’re already back on the grounds, watching as your carriage is being loaded and prepared for the next part of your travels when you turn to him. “May I ask your name?”

He still doesn't smile but nods. “Rusticus.” Then, he bows ever so slightly. “At your service.”

*** You find very quickly that Rusticus is not a fan of conversation. But at least he does not bother you. He keeps his distance, stays respectful and if having him around means Acacius will stop bothering you, you are more than glad to make the trade.

The nights in the tent do indeed bring more sleep, but the days are long and daunting. The weather starts to look up two days after you’ve left Beneventum, the sun coming through more often and the temperatures rise more and more the further south you travel. The moment in the gardens, with Acacius trailing his fingers over your stola and the stars shining above you seems as far out of reach as Rome.

You haven’t been told how many days this part of Via Appia will take but you feel a small jolt of excitement the first time you can spot the sea from your carriage. You can hear the waves rolling in at night and it is the first time you dream of him.

It feels like Acacius is standing in your tent, like he is stepping toward you with gentle steps, pushing the curtains to the side to settle beside you. You know it must be a dream because he looks younger, like less worries rest on his shoulder. Like he hasn't collected all the scars that litter his body yet.

His red toga rustles in the soft breeze that is brushing through your tent and you reach out to touch him, your hand finding his cheek, tracing the stubble of his beard that is, even in this vision, starting to grey in a few spots. You open your mouth because you want to speak, because you have so many things you need to tell him. But then you see him shake his head and your chance passes like the waves in the distance.

“Go back to sleep, Dulcissima,” he whispers and you can only nod, your eyelids drooping. You try to fight it, willing yourself to sit up and wake yourself properly. But you are merely met with your curtains and your hand tangled in them, and with Acacius nowhere to be seen.

When you leave your tent the next morning, greeting Rusticus with a small nod, you spot Acacius almost immediately. He is surrounded by his highest ranks, one hand tapping against his thigh in a slow rhythm. You hate that you know the gesture, that you know it is what he does when he’s anxious. Which no one else would ever see in him. He’s holding himself proudly, giving his white and gold armour the moment it deserves. It’s how you know that today will mark the end of your land journey, unless you’re much mistaken.

Acacius seems to be on his best looks and behavior whenever you reach a big town and make halt there, which certainly has something to do with very important people and very important politics. You don’t care much for either.

His curls look even more lush and bouncy today and as you watch him from the safety of your carriage as he steers his white stallion with practiced ease. You long to reach out and run your hands through them, twirl the curls between your fingers until you find the small streaks of grey that are beginning to show. He felt so real last night, so close. Maybe, just maybe, you’ll at least have him in your dreams.

Via Appia leads you straight into Brundisium, a town surrounded by high, stone walls on one side and the sparkling blue sea on the other. It doesn't feel unlike Beneventum a few days ago but the difference in class is immediately noticeable. Many of the houses look well cared for, not rarely with gardens equally as tended surrounding them. The streets off to the side lead up and down, those that face east letting you sneak more glances at the sea in the distance. Something must be happening in the town because you see decorations being handed around, preparations of some kind taking place.

Once again, it is only a selected few of the soldiers that accompany the General and your carriage behind the town walls, the majority of them likely setting up camp in front of the gates. You wonder if they have a view of the sea, if you will. Whatever room Acacius will lock you up in in this town, it better have a good view.

“Thank you Rusticus���” You say politely out of habit when you step out of your carriage once it has come to a halt, holding onto the hand that has been extended toward the door. To your surprise, for once, it is not your personal guard that is helping you descend.

Up close, the two griffins on Acacius’s chest seem to reflect the rays of sunshine even more, like he himself is shining rather than sol above. You drop his hand so abruptly that your fingers brush past his fine golden bracers. The metal has been warmed up by the heat of his body but the touch somehow almost seems to burn you.

Acacius’s eyes fly to yours, the trace of concern evident. You watch as his brows furrow slightly and there is another emotion in his face that you can’t put your finger on. “My lady?” He asks quietly, beckoning you onto the piazza in front of you. It’s a subtle way to remind you that you are not alone.

Soldiers are dismounting their horses around you, those of high ranks shaking hands with men that wear large coats and expensive jewelry. The sight fits the stories you’ve heard of Brundisium. A town that has profited greatly from the trade that passes through it, from ships bringing spices, soft fabrics and other exotics. A wealth that the townsfolk clearly likes to show off.

The space in front of you is dominated by two large columns, stretching up into the sky. You consider them for a moment, not used to seeing columns this large that do not serve any purpose. “Do these predate the Empire?” As you step closer to try and read the inscriptions, you feel Acacius shift beside you.

“They mark the end of Via Appia,” he explains gently while you begin to round the stone pillars together, his gaze wandering up and down along the smooth stone.

“Or the beginning,” you add without really considering it. A street works both ways. Trade wouldn't be trade if it didn't. So the end of the street really is just a curve, one that sends you back along your way.

“I believe that is why there are two,” Acacius nods thoughtfully as he stops beside them, his eyes now back on you. “Because it could be either.”

“Or both,” you mumble, holding his gaze for a few moments. To your surprise, he doesn't withdraw or correct you. Instead, he nods again, his eyes fixed on yours.

“Or both.”

This time around, despite the many important people that practically trip over their feet trying to get Acacius’s attention, your domicile is not shared with any rich family. Carefully navigating past the soldiers still unloading, the General leads you across the piazza and toward a large villa to the right.

You take in your surroundings, realizing that the bustling activity is more than what you made it out to be at first glance. Off to the sides, several tables are being set up, almost like altars, candles and small items placed on them that you can’t quite make out from distance.

Acacius follows your gaze, a small smile spreading over his face. “Have you attended Compitalia before?”

You shake your head at the question. “No. Not really, at least. I’ve read of the celebrations down here being much larger. It is not as much a custom in Rome, is it?”

“The people of Rome have many festivals to attend,” he says softly and you wonder if he is also thinking about the fact that you celebrated the last one together, that Bona Dea was the start of whatever this between you has grown into. “Compitalia goes back far beyond Rome. Maybe as far as the Vestals.” He looks at you for a moment. “But it was banned for many years. Emperor Augustus brought it back, but it was never as important in Rome as it is in the countryside.”

“It is for the Lares Compitales, right?” You recall. Part of your training was learning about all the festivals, partly for knowledge and partly because the Vestals tend to many of them. Not the Compitalia though.

“Yes. The household deities. Those of the crossroads and public streets. Each neighborhood has their own.” Acacius points over to separate altars being erected, all of them sitting above a crossroad. “Tomorrow, they will ask the deities to have mercy and good will for the year to come. I visited Brundisium during the festival once before. It was lovely. There is music and dance and honeyed cakes. It is a festival of the people.”

You can’t help but listen eagerly, even if you still feel a grudge towards the man beside you. But his experience, the distances he’s traveled and cultures he has witnessed along the way are fascinating. It feels more like what you'd imagined your own travels to be like, too.

“This is where we will stay,” Acacius leads you past the gates and up smooth stone steps into the vestibulum of the villa. The high ceilings, decorated with coffers and small mosaics that show scenes of ships and the sea, make you realize that this dwelling is very much to your taste. You can hear a fire cackling somewhere in another room and the noise of the crowd outside lessens as you pass through the hallway that leads to the atrium. You turn your head to the side– and pause.

Almost on eye level, you are met with a small epigraph. It is not the first one you’ve seen at the entrance to a villa but what strikes you is the name below the quote.

You hear Acacius’s steps die down beside you and then he sighs deeply, stepping toward the wall. “You really are curious, Dulcissima,” he hums and you try and ignore what hearing the nickname from his lips does to your insides. It’s like a fire has been lit.

“I like to learn,” you state matter-of-factly. “It would be a shame if I returned to Rome the same as I was.” You watch his shoulders tense slightly at your words and despite Acacius’s face not being visible to you, you feel that he is following his own train of thought.

“Yes. It would be.” He traces the words that are engraved into the stone with his fingers, his touch following the curves so gently as if he were the one to write them.

Noctes atque dies patet atri ianua Ditis; sed revocare gradum superasque evadere ad auras,

hoc opus, hic labor est. Pauci, quos aequus amavit.

His voice is quiet when he begins to read and somehow, you can feel that he is not really here when he speaks those words. That he is somewhere else. You’re just not sure where. 

“The gates of hell are open night and day;

Smooth is the descent, and easy is the way:

But to come back and view the cheerful skies,

In this the task and mighty labour lies.”

“It is Virgil. The poet,” you hum, taking a few steps toward the epigraph so that you are side by side with the General.

“Forgive me my prejudices but I am surprised a Vestal has read Virgil,” he says softly, turning back to you, his eyes taking in your face, your hair, your veil. Everything.

“I am surprised a General has,” you counter with a small smile and to your surprise Acacius doesn't stop the emotion from showing on his face this time, a small laughter leaving his lips.

You both chuckle quietly as he leads you further into the atrium, one that opens up to a beautiful view of the sea to the east and that of the town to the south. The other sides are lined with high archways and an artistically worked staircase that leads to the upper floor. 

You stroll through the open space, glancing down into the streets below and the altars taking shape on the street corners, a few people hanging decorations in front of their doors. And suddenly, you feel naïve. Because you were so eager to learn about the festival and the town and Virgil that you completely forgot that you are not allowed to experience any of it up close.

“That quote,” Acacius begins, seemingly oblivious to the thoughts that are occupying your head, despite the fact that you feel like you are screaming them. “It is engraved into a wall in one of the rooms on Palatine Hill.”

You frown as you both come to stand beside the edge of the atrium, a gentle breeze blowing around you now. “I must not have seen it when I was there.” You keep your voice quiet, like you are not sure if you’re allowed to mention that you have been in his house. In his bed.

“No, no you wouldn't have.” Acacius’s voice is equally low but it doesn't sound like he’s afraid. He sounds sad. “Lucilla is the only one who ever enters that room. I have only seen it once or twice, when she refused to leave it after–” He sucks in a sharp breath. “It was Lucius’s room. You may not remember, he was–”

“Her son,” you finish quietly, letting your gaze drift over the horizon like you are waiting for something to appear on it. “I remember. I was there, that day.”

You feel Acacius turn to you and when you do the same, the familiar frown is back on his face. “You were there when Maximus was killed?” He stares at you in disbelief. “You only could’ve been–”

“Young,” you agree quietly. “I was pretty young. It could have been only the second or third time I went. It was not– it was not pretty.”

“You hadn't taken your vows yet?” Acacius enquires softly and you shake your head.

“No. No, it was before.” You haven’t really thought about it in recent years. And you suddenly realize that you haven’t thought enough about how close Acacius was to everything, how he was fighting on the front lines of an invisible war.

You send a silent prayer of grace to the gods for making him a General rather than a Gladiator.

“She is a very strong woman,” you add quietly. “A very smart one too.”

“All women are smart,” Acacius blurts out, his face changing again as he leans against one of the columns, looking back out at the sea. “They would not survive any other way. Men on the other hand…”

“They can be a bit more difficult.” You are not sure if he is speaking of other men or himself, if this is his way of a non-committal apology. You are still pondering your words, trying to come up with a clever response that will maybe make him reveal his intentions when he speaks again. 

“You will sneak out again, will you not? To see the festival?”

“Yes.” You mirror his position, leaning against the column beside him so that you are face to face. The worries are still decorating his face but he still nods.

“Then don’t. I–” He holds his hand up when you open your mouth to protest. “I will take you. We can go together.”

“Alright,” you agree, trying not to let your body show how your heart has suddenly started beating out of rhythm. Maybe he still cares for you. At least enough to let you experience something outside of your cage. By his side.

[lewisinho]

tbf what annoys me the most about the massa case, is not even the case itself (it doesn't have much to stand on in the first place), it's more about how it exacerbated the journalistic problem f1 has...no one seems to be asking the right questions nor are even willing to actively challenge what is being said; they have many opportunities to interview him (massa is practically begging to be heard) but they are not actually getting anything of value out of him nor willing to discuss and question what he is saying (they don't even need massa for that, they can go do some investigating themselves, check the regulations etc.); the pretext of not engaging due to confusing legalese doesn't apply either when it's the one and only thing the case can be argued upon (or rather entirely dismantled); buzzwords like 'manipulation' or 'justice' fall flat when they are not backed up with actual facts and journalism fails when it engages in pointless false-balancing and creates a farcical echo chamber in which nothing is being challenged; but then again, i guess that can be said for journalism in general these days

[flowersforthemachines]

What home smells like (Crossroads comments)

Note: judging by the audio I extracted and the conversation file, Bellara and Taash don't have lines for that event (if they actually have lines and I missed them, pls lmk).

Rook: That scent… I can't place it. Neve: For a moment… it smelled like Dock Town after it rains. Lucanis: Coffee. Like Illario and I smelled in the kitchen where we grew up. But that cannot be right. Harding: That's my ma's apple cake! But… how? Davrin: That's smoke from my old clan's campfire. But… how do I even know that? Emmrich: It's reminiscent of the mortuary's perfumes, but… ah. Of course. Emmrich: There's small enchantments around this place. From the old elves, welcoming their kindred home.

My DAVG Extracted Audio Masterlist

[enden-k]

read up on natlan just now (since i quit gnshn since ~4.4 and am out of the loop, lit only watched that teaser yesterday w no info bc anon mentioned capitano)

and what it and some characters are actually based on/taking inspiration from (deities etc from different cultures) its really really bad now that i fully realize the story/info behind in connection with the characters i saw yesterday. we already mentioned how pale everyone is (again) and i didnt dare mentioning im disappointed w the archons design (not what i expected) to not attract unwanted arguments but the whole deity borrowing and blatant disrespect... sumeru was already a mess and they still havent learned a bit at all. dont steal or take insp of a culture and exclude the people, its the same thing all over again. sorry to the affected ppl, i hope they realize they really messed up (again) and make changes

[twilight-zoned-out]

No space monster will ever be as liminally terrifying as Fourteen crabwalking in anger

[uboacore]

Had the time of my life running between these crates of pumpkins and squashes in a haze of excitement

[promiscuousasexual]

and the other drivers aren’t any better either, these responses are so telling as to how they view women, they’re treating this like it’s just another funny haha rumor and not sexual harassment allegations

[infinitystation]

i'm 14 hours into m&l brothership and so far the most disappointing thing about it is that there hasn't been a song that makes me go "holy shit i need to listen to that for 2 weeks straight" like every other game has had

other than that this is everything i could have asked for, people are calling it hand-holding and a bit too easy but i'm a 23 year old man i didn't exactly expect it to challenge me. the old games were harder because i was maybe 10 years old, not because they were actually difficult. i'm here for the story and the charm, and it has a lot of charm. would like to see more Imminent Danger to our main cast but that's just a personal preference lol

[miniagula]

i think i need to reread jj bc chapters 25-30 in season one are nuts...gayeon v ji being teased for the second time, ji fighting against the school using sending his students to black island ("Pampering them won't do them any good either. Don't forget why Gayeon Sin left NEST." is CRAZYYYY) to "build the school's forces" as quickly as possible, gayeon being able to get the drop on breeder (his fucking expression while she's threatening him is so funny) AND. THAT LITTLE SNIPPET OF THEIR FIGHT. HER SCAR THROBBING WHEN SHE RECALLS THE MEMORY OF JI CALLING HER A MONSTER. FWHNAJFNWJFNJWDNFJ

[swept-you-out-again]

I’ve only listened to the vault tracks so far! But initial ranking:

1. Is It Over Now

2. Now That We Don’t Talk

3. Suburban Legends

4. Say Don’t Go

5. Slut!

[mggslover]

Angel

In which Spencer sees his girlfriend fresh out of the shower for the first time, you looked angelic, and he was about to ruin you.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Girlfriend!reader Genre: smut (18+) Content warnings: spencer being horny, reader wears glasses, teasing, fingering, some spanking, p in v sex, facial, soft!dom spencer Word count: 3,8k A/n: this was supposed to be a short, smut no plot fic, but I got a little carried away...

The familiar goodbyes and sorrys were exchanged as you hung up the phone.

What was meant to be a romantic date out of town with your boyfriend had quickly turned into another one of those last-minute cancellations. It wasn’t surprising—Spencer’s work as a profiler came with its own set of unpredictable demands, and you were used to him being pulled away at a moment’s notice. Still, you couldn’t help but feel a little disappointed. You’d been looking forward to spending some time together.

You’d been dating Spencer for about three months, and things had progressed naturally from casual coffee dates to longer dinners and, eventually, a few trips to his place afterwards. As much as you enjoyed those nights, you wished they would last longer. You and Spencer made a habit out of quickies, knowing that at any moment his phone would inevitably buzz with a message or call from his colleague, Garcia. You couldn’t blame him for leaving, serial killers unfortunately didn’t work a nine to five. Spencer hated leaving you as well, making sure he offered you enough apologetic kisses and promises that he’d be back as soon as he could.

He always insisted that you could stay over at his place until he’d be back, but you never felt comfortable enough to do so. It wasn’t that you didn’t enjoy being at his place—you could already picture yourself curled up on the couch with one of his books, or take advantage of his bed, which was a lot bigger and more comfortable than yours. But it wasn’t quite home yet, at least not without him there.

With a resigned sigh, you decided to make the best out of the situation. It had been a long week, and you could use a night of self-care. As you set your phone down on the bathroom counter, you hit play on a playlist you’d made for such occasions—soft, calming melodies that would help you unwind. You pulled your hair back with a headband, took out your contacts, and started removing the makeup that took you half an hour to do earlier.

The bathroom mirror fogged slightly as the warmth of the shower filled the room. You hummed along with the song in the background, while you moved the cotton pads over your skin in a familiar motion.

As you finished, you carefully stepped out of your dress and turned toward the shower. The steam hit your skin as you slid into the stall, closing your eyes for a moment as the water hit your shoulders.

Without realizing, you spent a good hour in the shower. Once comfortably dressed, you let yourself sink into the plush cushions of your couch. A fuzzy blanket was draped across your just shaved legs, and the TV remote was within arm’s reach. You let out a content sigh, almost feeling as satisfied as you would be when being with Spencer.

—

Spencer’s signature melody of knocks broke your focus on the documentary you were watching. You swiftly moved up from the couch and checked the peephole on your door, just to be sure. A smile spread across your face as you saw Spencer rocking back and forth on his feet, plucking at the bouquet in his hands, straightening out each flower to perfection.

You opened the door with a big smile. “Hi, I wasn’t expecting you. I thought we cancelled tonight.”

He hesitates, a slight blush creeping onto his cheeks. “You’re right. I finished the case early, and I’ve been thinking about you all day. I just… wanted to see you.” His words came out more nervously than he intended. “I saw the lights were on, so I assumed you were awake.”

“I wasn’t asleep. Don’t worry,” you answered warmly. You glanced down at the bouquet in his hands. “Are these for me?”

“They are,” he replies, his voice softened as he handed them to you. “You said you liked lilies.”

“I do, thank you. They’re beautiful.” You accept the bouquet, moving to your tiptoes to give him a kiss. Having a boyfriend with an eidetic memory really is perfect.

“I’ll put them in water, come in.”

You moved to the open kitchen, so in awe of his sweet gesture that you were completely unaware of the way Spencer’s breath caught the moment you opened the door, how his pupils darkened when he inhaled your sweet scent and noticed the state you were in. Hair still damp from the shower you must’ve taken, wearing only a shirt, and your face bare besides the glasses you were wearing. Fuck… he didn’t even know you wore glasses.

He couldn’t deny how incredibly cute you looked. Spencer has only seen you during or after dates, and he loved how he could tell that you took the time to get yourself ready. Always wearing an outfit that fits you perfectly and having your makeup done in a way that enhances the features of your face. But it felt so intimate seeing how effortlessly beautiful you looked moving around in the comfort of your own home. You were beautiful in a way that seemed almost unfair, and he couldn’t shake the feeling that this was the most captivating version of you he'd ever seen.

Spencer wasn’t able to take his eyes off of you as you walked to the kitchen, your breasts swaying with every step you took. The outline of your nipples were visible, because of the cold that escaped when you opened the door for him. Your bare legs reflected the warm kitchen light. He felt like he was about to lose his mind as you reached up to grab a vase from the top cabinet, the curve of your ass peeking out from underneath the shirt that you're wearing.

He felt guilty for the warmth that was spreading through him. He shook his head slightly, trying to reset his thoughts, but the temptation was there. Your easy grace, the way your bare feet padded across the floor, the gentle hum of the air between you—it all combined into something too alluring for him to ignore.

You could feel the heat radiating off of him as he moved behind you, placing a careful hand on your hip as he reached out to grab the vase. You turned around with a smile as he placed the vase on the kitchen counter.

“Thanks,” you beamed, and he mumbled a ‘You’re welcome’, though his response came out as more of a soft hum.

Before he could think better of it, he leaned down and kissed you. The kiss was slow, deliberate—his lips meeting yours with a tenderness that made his pulse race. His fingers tingle with the desire to pull you closer, but just before his hands slid around you, you pulled away, making him swallow back a groan.

“Ooh! I was watching this documentary that I think you’ll be really into,” you said, quickly putting the flowers in the vase and tugging him by the hand toward the couch. He followed like a stray pup, too caught up in the way you moved to protest.

“Oh, yeah? What’s it about?” He asked, hoping the conversation would steer him away from the other thoughts tugging at him. You settled on the couch beside him, and he instinctively pulled your legs onto his lap, cupping your feet in his hands to warm them.

“It’s about space. The universe, really. It’s fascinating, but honestly terrifying if you think about it for too long.”

Spencer nodded, though his mind was far away. He was more focused on the way that his fingers traced the soft lines of your calves. He gently started kneading the muscles, placing just the right amount of pressure.

“Would you go to space, if NASA invited you?” You asked, eyes still glued to the TV.

“Only if you’d come with me.”

His response made you turn around to look at him. The sincere and loving expression he gave you warmed your face. He squeezed your legs gently, and, just like that, you noticed the hint of desire hidden in his eyes.

“Come here,” he said in a whisper, patting his thigh. In a second you managed to crawl yourself onto his lap, and he held you steady by your hips.

You reached up to remove your glasses, but before your fingers could touch the frames, his hand found yours, halting the movement.

You noticed the slight squint in his eyes. “I can’t properly kiss you with my glasses on,” you explain.

"Then let me handle the kissing," he murmured, voice dropped low.

Before you could register his words, his lips had found your neck. His hands moved to cradle your face, his thumbs brushing along the line of your jaw, holding you close as his tongue licked a firm stripe up your sensitive skin.

“Oh, god,” you shuddered in a breath.

“Shaking already?” he teased, voice laced with amusement as he grinned against your skin.

“No,” you lied.

“Are you sure about that? Then why are you doing it again?” He comments before squeezing your breast, your nipple caught in between his long fingers.

You jumped at his touch, a moan escaping your lips. You shook your head as you saw his satisfied expression. “You’re such a dirty tease.”

“I haven’t heard any complaints so far,” he smirks, making you roll your eyes.

His breath was warm against your skin as his lips found their way back to the soft curve of your neck. Slowly, with a tenderness that sent a shiver through your body, he placed several more kisses to your skin. Once pleased, he bends his head down to capture your clothed nipple in his mouth, his hand still kneading your other breast.

“Fuck, Spence,” you gasped, your hands gripping his shoulders to steady yourself. He took his time, his mouth sucking slowly on your nub, savoring the feel of you beneath him. Tonight, he was in no rush—he wanted to taste every inch of you, show you just how much he loves every detail of your body.

You were writhing in his lap as he flicked his tongue against your nipple. Heat forming between your thighs with every stroke of his tongue. He removed his lips from your breast with a pop, and sat back against the couch. His gaze was locked on the now wet, see-through patch on your shirt. He licked his lips, watching you like you were a piece of art he just created himself.

“Beautiful,” he stated.

The compliment sent a rush of warmth straight to your core, your body responding with a soft shiver. Without thinking, you began to grind yourself against his lap, a surge of excitement rushing through you as you felt the firm bulge beneath his pants. Spencer exhaled a deep, satisfied sigh, his warm hands slipping beneath your shirt as he cupped your breasts, squeezing them gently.

“I didn’t know you wore glasses,” he said, his gaze lingering on you.

You raised an eyebrow, a playful smile tugging at the corner of your lips. “Oh, so that’s what this is all about, huh?”

His expression softened, “Actually, it’s about all of you.” The sincerity in his voice caught you off guard, turning you almost shy.

“Can I take this off?” he murmured, his fingers teasing the hem of your shirt. You nodded wordlessly and raised your arms. Spencer pulled the fabric over your head, his eyes tracing the curve of your bare chest. He cursed under his breath, his hands immediately finding you—fingers digging into your skin as he leaned in, nuzzling his face between your tits with a satisfied moan.

A string of giggles and moans spilled from your lips as his curls tickled your skin. His pink lips grazed you gently, pausing to leave sloppy, lingering marks—each one a reminder that you’d carry with you for the following days.

You moved against him, rolling your hips, finding release in the way that your barely covered heat rubbed against the rough material of his pants. Spencer noticed the change in your rhythm, the need in your movements. He guided you with steady hands, his fingers moving to your hips and then sliding lower, finding the curve of your ass, tightening his grip to help you find the pace you craved.

“Can you handle more?” His voice was laced with desire. Without hesitation, you nodded, your body already screaming for more. His long fingers traced your inner thighs, goosebumps forming on your skin, his touch light but electrifying. When his thumb pressed against your covered clit, a jolt of heat shot through you, making you squirm helplessly. You moaned, your body arching toward him.

“You’re always so wet for me, angel.” The word slipped from Spencer's lips. It was the first time he’d called you anything other than your name or a shortened version of it, and somehow, angel felt more fitting than any word he'd ever used. You looked like heaven to him—your soft skin glowing in the light, your eyes sparkling behind the frames of your glasses, and the way you responded to his touch, every small brush of his fingers making your expressions change so delicately.

He slowly tugged the damp fabric of your underwear to the side, savoring the reveal of your glistening pussy. You lifted your hips, giving Spencer the access to slide a finger through your folds, spreading your wetness.

“Feels good,” you breathed out, your voice shaky as his fingers ran back and forth between your lips, each pass teasingly close to your entrance, but never quite slipping inside. The sensation made your hips buck against him. You weren’t used to being teased for this long—Spencer had a way of getting you dripping without even fully touching you. Usually that led straight to sex, which makes his slow touches feel almost torturous.

“Please, Spence,” you moaned.

“Please, what?” he mused, his eyes dark with desire as he watched how your arousal coated his fingers, his gaze never leaving your glistenings folds.

“I need more,” you begged, your voice a whimper.

“You can have more, angel. My fingers are right here,” he hummed.

A soft moan escaped your lips as you shifted, positioning yourself so his fingers were just below your entrance. Spencer’s breath hitched, and his mouth fell open as you sank down onto his fingers, inch by inch, taking him in. Your hand gripped his shoulder tightly for support as you moved, the sensation of fullness making your body tremble.

Spencer was the first to make a sound, his head falling back slightly as you adjusted to him. His moans only spurred you on. You pressed your forehead against his, your breaths shaky as he pumped his fingers in a steady, insistent rhythm.

His other hand moved to your ass, fingers spreading across your cheek as he squeezed, pulling you closer to him. You were grateful he was doing most of the work—your legs were already shaking, straining to keep up with the building pleasure.

Spencer’s fingers curled inside you, pressing deeper, and the angle was perfect—hitting spots you never managed to reach on your own. Spencer groaned at the sight. Your body was tightening around him, your slickness coating his fingers, and he couldn’t help but imagine it being his cock filling you up.

The sounds he made drove you crazy. Each deep groan, every stuttered breath, showed you how much he enjoyed making you feel good. His enjoyment only intensified your own pleasure.

You were so close, your nipples hard against his chest, your breath mixing with his as your hair tumbled over his face, the scent of it intoxicating to him.

Your breathing quickened, sharp and shallow, as the pressure built within you, pooling low in your belly. Your vision blurred, the edges of reality dissolving as you neared the brink of your climax.

“Baby…” you breathed, your voice a desperate whisper, barely more than a plea. You locked your eyes with Spencer, hoping—praying—he could see the need in yours, feel the frantic urgency building inside you.

And then, with a nod and a final twist of his fingers, you broke.

A flood of pleasure crashed through you. You gasped, your whole body seizing as your orgasm hit, sending shockwaves of heat through every inch of you. You cried out, unable to hold back the sounds of your release, your hips bucking against his touch, your hands gripping his wrist to anchor you to the world as it spun in a blur.

He withdrew his fingers from your heat, and the sudden absence left you breathless, a soft sound escaping your lips at the loss. When you blinked your eyes open, Spencer’s warm gaze met yours, a gentle smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. You smiled back at him, a little dazed, as he brushed your cheek with his untouched hand.

He carefully took your glasses off, placing them on the armrest of the couch. His thumb tenderly wiped away the tears that had escaped your eyes. He then cupped your chin, pulling you toward him, and kissed you deeply, his lips soft and lingering.

“Thank you,” he murmured, as he wrapped his arms around you, holding you close.

“I should be the one thanking you,” you softly laughed.

He shook his head, smiling. “No need for that,” he replied, his voice reassuring.

“But I want to,” you insisted. “Though… I think you’ll find I’m better at showing than telling.” You playfully whispered, as your nails grazed the outline of his dick.

You turned yourself around on his lap, your knees still planted on either side of him, but now with your back facing him. Leaning forward, you braced yourself on the coffee table, your elbows digging into the surface. You arched your back, making Spencer hiss sharply at the sight of your ass displayed before him, your arousal trickling down your thighs. The inviting shake of your hips made him lose his patience, and his fingers fumbled hastily with his belt.

“Fuck,” he groaned, hurriedly pushing his pants and boxers down his thighs. His cock sprang free, hard and eager, the flushed head brushing against the faint line of hair trailing up his abdomen.

He gripped himself firmly, pumping his length a few times before lining himself up with your slick entrance. The weight of his hand settled on your hip as he pressed the tip of his cock against your warmth, teasing you for the briefest moment before you sank down on him.

A sharp cry escaped your lips as he filled you, the new angle making him hit depths you’d never felt before. The stretch was deliciously overwhelming, stealing your breath as your fingers clawed at the table. You shakily tried to lift your hips, but your legs quivered under the strain.

Spencer noticed immediately, his hands finding their place—one on your waist, steadying you, and the other trailing down to your calf. He began guiding you, his strength effortlessly lifting and lowering you along his cock. The room filled with the symphony of your combined moans and the rhythmic slap of meeting skin.

“God, look at you,” he rasped, mesmerized by the way your body took him in. His gaze focused on the bounce of your ass, hypnotized by the way it moved with each thrust. On instinct, he brought his hand down in a firm smack against your cheek.

The sudden impact made you jolt, as you let out a sweet, startled cry. The sound sent a surge of need through him, and he swore he felt himself harden further.

“You liked that, huh?” he mused in curiosity. Without waiting for an answer, he did it again, revelling in your shivering response.

Pulling you against him, Spencer adjusted your position until you were seated in his lap, your back pressed flush to his chest. One arm wrapped around your waist to hold you close, while his other hand rose to cup your breast. His hips snapped into you roughly, each thrust pulling an uncontrollable whimper from your throat.

“You’re doing so good for me, angel,” he praised, his voice hoarse as his fingers pinched and rolled your nipple. The combination made your head loll back against his shoulder, surrendering to his touch. He seized the opportunity to claim your lips in a needy, devouring kiss. Tongues tangled messily, swallowing your shared moans.

As your pleasure mounted, your walls began to flutter around him, drawing a strained groan from his throat.

“Are you close again, pretty girl?” he asked, his voice a rough whisper against your lips.

“Yes,” you gasped, barely able to form the word. “Spencer… fuck, I’m so close.”

“Then cum around me,” he encouraged. “I know you want it.”

Your breath hitched. “Will you cum inside of me?”

For a heartbeat, he stilled. “I…” His gaze flickered with hesitation, cheeks flushed. “I want to cum on your face.”

Your pupils blew wide, desire sparking anew at his confession. A smirk tugged at the corner of your lips.

That was all the encouragement he needed. His fingers dipped between your thighs, circling your clit in rapid, precise motions. The pressure tipped you over the edge, and with a cry of his name, you let go.

Barely able to recover, you slid from his lap onto your knees, settling in front of him. Spencer’s breath hitched at the sight of you—flushed and disheveled, your sweat-slick skin glowing in the low light. Your lips, swollen from his kisses, parted expectantly.

“Fuck, you’re perfect,” he breathed, unable to tear his eyes away. You looked angelic… and he was about to ruin you.

It didn’t take long. His cock twitched, thick ropes of cum spilling over your face and dripping down to your chest. His jaw went slack, his chest heaving as he watched you collect some of his release with your thumb and slip it into your mouth. The sight of you sucking on your finger almost unraveled him all over again.

Unable to bring himself to leave your side, he grabbed his sleeve, using it to gently clean you up. Once satisfied, you leaned forward, resting your head on his thigh, basking in the comfortable silence that followed.

His phone buzzed suddenly on the couch, shattering the moment. Spencer groaned, grabbing the device and quickly silencing it with a flick of his finger.

You laughed softly, your voice tinged with amazement. “What was that about?”

Spencer shrugged, tossing the phone aside without a second glance. “I can be late for one day.”

[totalswag]

hii, I’m not sure if you take request still but if so is there a possible way you can do a drew x singer!reader one shot take on how Sabrina “arrests” her fans before performing Juno for being too hot but the reader does it to Drew during her shows please 🫶🏼

arrested for being too hot — DREW STARKEY

authors note THANK YOU FOR REQUESTING THIS!! my request box is still open so feel free to send me any ideas regarding singer!reader or regular fic ideas you’d like me to write. this was so much writing too. thank for all the love on my last fic lovies <3

taglist ⤕ if you would like to be notified every time i post you will type in your username then be all set.

summary "arresting" drew, your boyfriend, during your show before performing your song from your new album.

warning(s) none!

You are on tour for your new album in-front of thousands of fans almost every night. You worked hard on this album and it turned out wonderfully. If it weren’t for the amazing fans of yours, you don’t know where you’d be in your career— they are the reason you are doing this.

Half way into the show— going amazing. The crowd tonight isn't disappointing you. Everything you've hoped for on this tour. You've performed eighteen songs and about to go onto your nineteenth. Played musical spin the bottle not long ago which was really fun.

Before Juno, you begin with a small "skit" where you call someone out in the crowd, arresting them for being too hot. This became a thing after your first show of the tour and doing it ever since. Plus, fans absolutely love it. Interacting with your fans has always been something you did and create those bonds.

Drew, your boyfriend, is attending the show with Madelyn Cline, a mutual friend and cast-mate of Drew's. You told him earlier today you wanted to arrest him in the middle of the show to get the audience excited and it would be fun.

Drew was all for it, and he didn't want you to tell him what you were going to say—he prefers surprises.

Your pink, glittering, dazzling clothing was sparkling in the lights. You pressed your free hand to your brow as though you were looking around for a call. With security, you could see Drew and Madelyn making their way to the front.

You begin by adjusting your earpiece while moving around the stage in your long skirt. "You guys know that moment when you are in a room filled with such beautiful looking people that you start to feel overwhelmed?" When fans applaud, you smile.

"Oh, girls, I think I just seen my future husband in the front row! Oh my god, girls, come here, come here," you say anxiously into the microphone, beckoning them over and waving your free hand.

You turn to face Drew as the girls approach you, asking, "Do you see that gorgeous looking man over in the front row with his arms crossed in the tan shirt?" You speak into the microphone aloud, pointing to Drew in the crowd.

Your girls joyfully waved at Drew while placing their hands on your shoulder. As Drew blushes on the big screen, the crowd reflexively turns up the volume in the arena. 

"What's your name handsome?" With your head cocked slightly to the right toward your shoulder, you inquire in jest. 

"Drew!" You can hear him when he places his hands on the side of his lips. He gives you a childlike smile and a flushed face.

You say, "I'm sorry I couldn't get that?" as though you couldn't hear him. Leaning forward more, you place your free hand behind your ear.

He shakes his head and utters "Drew!" a little louder. 

"Oh my Drew, I must say that you must be a magnet because you drew me in" brings a smile to your face. Your tone indicated that you were trying quite hard not to laugh, yet you kept your calm brilliantly.

Fans had their phones out, capturing the entire interaction. Nobody would have expected Drew to be the person arrested at your gigs since the tour began.

"Drew, you are under arrest for being too hot," you say aloud, smiling and pointing at him— fanning yourself, moving your hips side to side as the sound of sirens going off with blue and red lights behind.

You put your left elbow against your girls shoulder, "guys do you ever just see someone so good looking that you just don't know what to do and all your clothes fall off in that moment" your long skirt slips off smoothy.

"Like your brain just like malfunctions and like I just wanna handcuffed to you now like," one of your girls puts the pink fluffy handcuffs into your hand, you kneel down, "do you know what I mean? Will you take these from me?"

Drew is overwhelmed in this very moment— it's very obvious how much you are affecting him. Drew gives you a gimme me gesture with his fingers, ready to catch the hand cuffs.

He takes them in his hands, looks down, and feels the smooth texture of the fuzzy. He tilts his head to the side before slowly glancing up at you with a smirk—keep in mind that he's still on the big screen.

"We're gonna sing this one to you, Drew."

Juno's song intro starts playing. You wave goodbye to Drew and Madelyn as you return to the center of the stage. You could hear the two begin speaking to fans in the distance.

Drew and Madelyn met you in the dressing room following the show. After giving Madelyn a hug and thanking her for attending the event, you moved to approach Drew and put your arms around his neck while grinning.

"That was insane," Madelyn exclaimed, pulling you into a hug. "What about the full call-out and the handcuffs? Iconic! "You're the talk of the night; everyone is crazy about it."

You giggled as your face heated up. "It seemed right." "You should have seen his face!"

She laughs, "I got the whole thing on video, I'll send it to you later."

"I'm going to give you two some alone time, but you did such an amazing job tonight and looked so hot doing it," Madelyn adds, taking your hands in her and wiggling her brows. 

"Thank you, babe. I love you always," you say, hugging her before she leaves you and Drew alone. 

When you close the door, Drew comes behind you, placing his arms around your waist and kissing you on the cheek, making you laugh with the tenderness of his lips.

"I'm so proud of you baby, you did such an amazing job on stage and looked unbelievable in your outfits made me feel like the luckiest guy in the entire world." He expresses emotionally, which uplifts you. 

"Coming from you, it warms my heart baby. Forever grateful to have you in my life," you smile softly, leaning against his chest, feeling that sense of warmth you always feel whenever you are with him.

"And I'm forever grateful for you" he quietly responds, kissing the top of your head.

"So what are we gonna do with those pink fuzzy handcuffs?"

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[youraverageaemondsimp]

Lust for love. // Aemond Targaryen x Wife!Reader.

Summary: Aemond's life has always been a bitter and sour one, the only sweet thing in his life was you, his wife, perhaps too sweet for his liking, yet he neglected you in the past but a series of events lead you both together into love.

WARNINGS: mdni, smut, unprotected p in v, cunnilingus, interrupted orgasm, horny aemond, martial duties, clit stimulation, tiddy succin, body worship(?), gentle and kind aemond but he gets rough during sex, + not proofread, lmk if I missed any!

WC: 2.9k

A/N: divider credits @cafekitsune

The cold breeze brushed against Aemond's face as he walked hastily towards your chamber, his boots clacking against the stone floor heavily while his heart banged in his ribcage.

He was feeling light headed, unable to form any thoughts and only the words of the maester rang inside his skull from earlier. ‘Your lady wife seems to be sick’ he had informed him and those mere words were enough to make Aemond spurt up from his chair in the meeting room and immediately rush towards you.

Aemond, frankly, did not know why he was feeling anxious at the information that you were sick, he did not even like you much and only merely married you for the connections and benefits your family provided.

You were just a mere duty to him, so when did he start caring about you?

He stood in front of your chamber door waiting anxiously as the guard gave him a bow before he opened the door, the mental hinges creaking as it slowly moved. He steps inside hurriedly and immediately lets out a sigh of relief when he sees you sitting up. You just stare at him confused.

“Husband? What are you doing here?” The tone of your voice indicated surprise, because Aemond had never visited your chambers even once since the beginning of your marriage and only called you to his chamber when he wanted to consummate.

“I had been informed by the maester that you were sick.” He replies nonchalantly, tone betraying the true feelings that were whirling on the inside. He wanted to get close to you, embrace you.

“I'm not with child.” You reluctantly tell him while looking down, suddenly feeling as though you are a disappointment. It felt humiliating to tell him that, especially when he came all the way to your chambers, he probably expected that you would be with a child.

Except that was not the case.

Aemond was confused on why you were bringing up that topic now, but then it clicked in his head and he cleared his throat, grabbing your attention before shaking his head, “Oh no, wife, I wasn't here because of that.. I was worried.” He admits and your eyes widen in shock.

Worried for you?

For as long as you can remember Aemond never seemed the type to show affection or concern for anyone, perhaps it was due to his past grievances, you had only heard about his eye through rumours, he never opened up to you about anything. You were a duty for him, someone he needs a legitimate heir from; because it is not as though he doesn’t have whores to seek pleasure from so what is the use of you? ; or at least that is what you had assumed and questioned.

But to Aemond, you were his sweet gentle wife, he was afraid of hurting you, in his vision, you were like a white swan, pure, elegant and graceful, he did not want to scare you lest you fly away from him. He did not know when he started perceiving you in this way, but as time went on, he had developed quite a soft spot for you.

“My apologies, Lord husband, I did not intend to worry you.” You apologised, he shook his head gently. “No need to apologise, how are you feeling now?” He questions and you simply blink at him, “I'm well, better than before.” You reply with a soft smile. Aemond's lip curved upwards slightly as he nodded, “Very well.” He says in a dismissive tone.

Awkward silence falls between you both as you look down, he clears his throat before speaking, “If you'll pardon me- I have to—”

“Would you like to take a walk with me?” The question leaves your mouth in a hurry before you could stop it, a desperate attempt at clinging onto this fleeting moment of affection. He seems slightly taken aback but he nods his head, “I'd love to.” He replies and you nod, stepping in his direction and standing next to him. “Shall we go?” You inquire, “Yes, wife.” He answers and you wait for him to take the first step, which he does; and soon you follow him out of the room.

You both stroll down the garden, admiring the scenery, the breeze was gentle today, and the weather seemed perfect, Aemond linked your arm in his, holding you close to him.

Your skin was soft to the touch and it drove him insane, he couldn't help but stare at the way your breasts pushed up against the material of your dress, he never really properly fucked you like you deserve.

Yet now, he just wants nothing to do but push you against the castle wall and fuck you relentlessly in the garden. Aemond realised that he never heard you moan, or show any type of reaction when he consummated with you.

He wondered how your soft voice would shriek in pleasure, calling out his name in pleasure, how you'd cling so tightly to him, he wished he could witness such a sight. He wished he hadn't gone to whores to receive pleasure while he left his wife dry. He missed out on a lot of things due to his decisions.

He mentally made a note to stop visiting brothels as it would taint your honour, he could simply seek the same pleasure from you. He became more bothered as his imagination went wild.

“... husband…? husband…!” He snaps out of his imagination, looking at your confused expression, “Y-Yes? Please excuse me, I was lost in thought.” He apologises and you give him a soft smile, “You were saying something?” He asks and you nod, “I was thinking about; well; if you excuse my rudeness, I realised we don't know much about each other.” You truthfully tell him.

Aemond furrows his brows in question, “What do you mean by that wife?”

“I want to get to know you, husband.” You stare at him in the eye and his eye widens slightly, and just then he recalls the memory of Aegon's words.

“That woman in the brothel knows more about you than your own wife, don't you find it amusing?” He was taunting Aemond, and at that time Aemond ignored those words, but now that you've openly admitted that you don't know him much made his heart shatter.

“Of course wife, what do you wanna know?” He decides to let his guard down, ready to tell you whatever you ask for. “Everything.” You reply, biting your lip anxiously, your hand travels up to his face, caressing his cheek before you trail your thumb down his scar. He knew what that implication meant and he smiles at you in a gentle manner, his own hand coming up to grab your wrist.

“Of course.”

Days pass by just like that, your marriage with Aemond had improved tremendously after your little effort to get to know him better, you felt bad for him when he began to reveal such vulnerable things, yet you never judged him.

He had shown you all of his vulnerability so openly, from the matter of his eye to everything else. You listened in silence, and he appreciated that.

As Aemond grew more comfortable, he began to show his emotional side, which included both his vulnerability and anger. He would utter treasonous things about his own brother.

This night was one of those cold nights, the cold breeze flew into the martial chambers you were waiting in, the maids prepared you for the consummation as they do, you and Aemond consummate according to your moon cycle since your only duty is to provide him with a heir.

And besides, he probably did not want to lay with you in an intimate manner, or for pleasure. You felt insecure because of that.

You were scared that after all this progress, everything would return to the same way it was before because of this night, you doubted that it would happen but your thoughts plagued you.

You winced when you felt the maid tug at a hair strand accidentally, “Sorry my lady.” She apologises to you, “It is alright.” You respond softly, you stare at your own reflection in the mirror, eyes trailing down your features.

The door to the chamber opens, and Aemond strides in hurriedly, the maids quickly finish fixing you up and leave the room immediately, you get up from your seat and turn around to see Aemond undoing his clothes.

“Let me help you.” You offered, usually he would decline and continue to undress himself, and you expected that again, but his actions shocked you.

He immediately dropped his hands to the side and turned to look at you, waiting for you to walk over to him and help him. You blinked rapidly before rushing over to where he stood before you stood in front of him.

Your hands immediately began to work on removing his vest, your fingers delicately undid the loops, you were too focused on the job that you failed to notice Aemond's piercing gaze. He watched with intent as you worked on removing his clothes, his eye taking in your form. His breeches felt tight.

You pushed his coat off his shoulders and peeled away the vest, revealing his tunic beneath the layers, his garments fell to the ground with a shuffle, you stepped back, leaving him in his undergarments.

He grabbed the hem of his tunic before he pulled it off and then began to undo his breeches, untying the strings. You took that as a gesture to lay down on the bed, facing up.

This is what you did when you both consummated before, you would lay down, he would spread your legs, insert himself, finish and leave.

You expected that to be the case, but you were surprised when climbed on top of you, his face right in front of yours, platinum locks curtaining around you. He stared at your lips for a moment before he leaned in, capturing your lips with his.

You were surprised, and didn't know what to do, so you stayed still, but he bit your lip, indicating his disappointment at your freezing up, and so you immediately tried to mimic his movements.

Your lips danced against his, yet it couldn't match the fervent passion he moved with, it was desperate, intimate and most importantly, filled with love and lust.

All your prior insecurities melted away under his warm lips which were filled with desire and want, he wanted you, he seeked you out.

You both pulled away to catch your breaths, his lips were glossy from your saliva and slightly swollen. Your heart was pounding loudly in your chest.

Aemond moved your night off your shoulder before ripping it apart, revealing your breasts which you immediately covered out of instinct. But he gently grabbed your wrists and pinned your hands to the side of your head.

He leaned down, tracing kissing down your jawline, to your neck and to the soft flesh of your chest. His hot breath against your bud made you shiver in delight.

He hooked his tongue on your hardened nipple before engulfing it with his mouth, you let out a squeal of surprise at his actions but you didn't stop him.

He suckled on it gently, using his teeth to trap the bud in between before licking it with his tongue, he grunted in delight, his grip loosening one of your hands, freeing it from his hold.

He grabbed your unoccupied breast with his now free hand, giving it soft squeezes and playing with the bud, rolling and pinching it. You were new to this, not having any understanding of what was happening, after all, you've only read about it, never experienced such intimate acts yourself.

You rubbed your thighs together, trying to ease the ache that was forming in between them, you realised how sticky the area felt, and how it made it difficult for the friction of rubbing to work.

He notices this, lets go of your breast with a pop, he smirks before he rises off from you and settles in between your legs, this was the position you were more used to.

He spreads your legs wide apart, pulling up your nightgown, revealing all of you. He pressed his thumb against your clit which made your breath, you stared at him confused until you felt him rub small circles upon it.

Your body felt pangs of delightful stimulation, you couldn't help but enjoy the feeling, all of this was foreign to you. Aemond takes a deep breath before he closes in on your cunt, before licking a stripe upwards to your clit. You jolt from the sudden pleasure.

Aemond wrapped his lips around it, sucking on the bud slowly, you whined, grabbing his head for support as his mouth worked wonders down there. You tasted absolutely divine to Aemond, your essence trailing down his cheek as your body produced so much of it. You whimpered, thrashing around lightly as his warm tongue flickered with your bud.

Aemond's tongue swirled around your clit before he captured it with his mouth once again; “Oh! Yes!” You moaned, throwing your head back in pleasure when you felt him nibble on your bud. An unfamiliar feeling of warmth rose in your lower abdomen, you felt as if there was a fire inside you, waiting to combust any moment.

Just when you feet the flames beginning to erupt, Aemond stops his manoeuvres, putting out the fire, you furrowed your brows in confusion, wondering why he stopped.

But when you looked at Aemond, he seemed like an entirely different being at that moment, he had risen up back to his haunches again taking deep breaths almost as if he was trying to contain himself.

He was.

He had never felt such an overwhelming of desire in his body, every time he touched you; his mind scrambled into pieces, he wanted to fuck you so badly.

“Aemond?” You call out softly, confused, wondering if he was disappointed by your behaviour but it seems to snap him out of his daze and he stares at you. “I apologise; I'm finding it hard to control myself.” He admits his thoughts.

“Then don't.”

Aemond swore he heard you wrong.

“What?” He questions you.

“Don't try to Aemond, Don't hold yourself back, I want this, I want you.” You admit shyly.

The atmosphere fell silent for a second and you could feel the awkwardness from your own words beginning to sink in, that was until Aemond moved suddenly.

You shrieked as he pulled your hips onto his lap, wasting no time in inserting himself, you gasped at the sudden stretch, feeling yourself become full of him. You grabbed onto his shoulders for support.

He held your waist tightly, grabbing onto your hips for leverage as he began to move, thrusting himself in and out.

This was a movement you were familiar with, yet somehow it still feels new because of the strange sensation, it felt more intimate and passionate, his thrusts held meaning and it was as if every time he pushed inside you; he was reaffirming his love and desire for you.

He pushed you into the mattress, grabbing your legs and shoving them to your chest as he thrusted hard, his skin slapped against yours loudly, the room echoing the noises.

You threw your head back at the sensation, and you felt the fire in your stomach rekindle and you couldn't help but desperately chase it. “Ah, right there.” You moaned, feeling him hit a sweet spot inside you that fueled the fire in you, you gasped for air as every thrust of his knocked it out of your lungs. “You feel so good, you're driving me insane, wife.” Aemond grunts, his thrusts never once faltering.

Everything about this night together was very different from the previous ones, Aemond had never felt this good and neither have you, he regrets not trying to get to know you earlier. He felt like he was in heaven with the way you clenched around him.

He felt his high approaching, and he desperately ran after it thrusting deeper inside as he groaned and moaned.

Your body jolted up and down the bed and you felt the fire beginning to spread out slowly, you closed your eyes, when you felt the fire suddenly go out, you were confused but as Aemond thrusted one more time it erupted in your body like volcano, coursing through your veins and to your mind.

You moaned loudly, grabbing the sheets and arching your back as your eyes rolled to the back of your head at the intensity, you have never felt this way before.

Your vision went completely white before you could see once again, you felt Aemond finish inside you, his cocking twitching as he spurted his seed deep inside you.

“Seven hells.” He groans, riding his orgasm off, you watch as he clenches his eye shut taking deep breaths.

He looked so ethereal.

He immediately falls down next to you, catching his breath, he pulls you close and kisses you on the forehead, “You did so well for me.” He praises you, and you blush shyly.

Neither of you moved from the bed, having no intention to.

Typically Aemond would leave the room right after.

Yet he didn't.

He was stroking your shoulder gently as you dozed off, head resting on his shoulder.

He looks at your closed eyelids and thinks you're asleep.

“I love you.” He confesses, realising his true feelings.

Your lips quirk up into a smile before you open your eyes slightly.

“I love you too.”

You then doze off into slumber immediately, Aemond's heart picks up its pace, embarrassed and shy that you had heard him, but your response made him smile.