#legion eyes series

[lemonyinks]

PT. 1 of Drawing Legionnaires eyes: Jenni

ref/inspo (i think its a makeup add lmao)

Also inspired by @/ maxinstoresnow's jenni design, which I love very much

[apricotatsea]

Rereading some percy jackson and it's weird that he implies that a) the civil war was a manifestation of a war between the 2 demigod camps and then his black characters (or any of the other ones but specifically in this case) have no thoughts about that at all (especially when I THINK we're supposed to think the Roman camp was on the confederate side and that's where the one black POV character lives!) and b) that the gods are on separate sides of wwii and therefore some of them are supporting the nazis- I get why, like what he was trying to do with the world building, but sometimes trying to tie your fantasy characters into ALL human conflicts has weird implications

[darrisgrove]

All I can think about while reading The Eye of the World.

[tarotsoul]

ghost in the wind — part one

summary: all your life, your presence had been nothing more than a faint kiss of a breeze—nothing impactful, nothing worth noticing. so why did it hurt so much when that remained the case after moving to prythian?

warnings: a bit of angst, feelings of self-hatred and worthlessness, brief mentions of sexual assault

word count: 3.8k

series masterlist

“No.”

There was no room for argument in Nesta’s tone, no room for anything other than agreement or else she’d reign the Hells on all of them. Her mate be damned, she would not leave the mortal lands without you. Not again.

“If we take her,” Cassian gritted his teeth, “I am inviting her husband to wage war on our kind if he so chooses.”

Nesta bared her teeth. “Rafe is nothing but a coward and a sorry excuse of a man. What kind of war could he wage? If she stays, then so do I.”

Cassian blanched at his mate, his teeth grinding. They were only supposed to have stopped through for no more than a week, to ensure things in the mortal lands were restoring to somewhat of the normalcy they once had before the war.

He blinked at Nesta, noting the way she bore her feet into the solid ground, as if planting herself there like a tree weaving its roots into the soil. He knew the love she had for her cousin, her only friend, as she’d once told him. The guilt she’d felt when she first left the village, left you, hadn’t eased in the slightest.

Perhaps this was the reason she insisted on joining Cassian on this third-grade mission. He cast a quick glance over her shoulder to the small stone house you were occupying, and closed his eyes to ground his breathing.

“We can’t just bring her back without consulting Rhys first.”

Nesta rolled her eyes. “Screw Rhys. I’ll deal with him myself if I have to. She is my family, Cassian. My friend. Every night, he beats her and abuses her and takes from her what she will not willingly give. She is coming back with us.”

Cassian took another grounding breath, the iron will in Nesta’s eyes granting not even a fraction of negotiation. There was too much going on right now, too much to sift through to rebuild their city and legions.

But Nesta was right, and despite not knowing you, he couldn’t stomach the idea of leaving a vulnerable soul with a monster who took and abused like Rafe did. Especially not when he saw the pain on his mate's eyes for her cousin.

“Ten minutes. Tell her to pack necessities only. We will need to leave within the hour if we wish to be gone before her husband returns.”

Nesta didn’t cast him a second glance as she turned and sprinted into your home. You scrambled back from the window, heat painting your cheeks that you’d been caught watching them, straining your ears for a sliver of their conversation, to no avail.

She said nothing of your snooping, only grabbed your hand and dragged you to your sleeping chambers. “Pack only what you need. You’re coming back with us.”

You blinked, lungs seizing the air you tried to breathe. Leaving? For the Fae lands?

“Ness,” you tried, but she held up a slender hand to cut you off.

“Don’t. I made the mistake of leaving you behind before. I won’t do it again.” She couldn’t look at you. Not at the bruises marring your skin, or the split lip you’d earned yourself two nights ago for leaving an unwashed pot in the sink.

So you didn’t think twice about the consequences of being caught fleeing. You didn’t think twice at all as you stuffed minimal clothing into a satchel along with a photo of your beloved mother and the worn journal you kept hidden beneath the mattress.

Nesta allowed you a moment to compose yourself as she returned to her mate just outside your home. Home. As if you could ever have truly referred to it as that. This was not a home. You hadn’t had a home since your mother passed ten years ago. Since you married Rafe and your whole world fell apart.

You had prayed. Prayed to whatever out there that would listen. Hoped and hoped that one day your salvation would arrive, that you’d be finally spared from the misery you’d been subjected to for so long. From the pain and terror and loneliness.

You hadn’t realised you were absentmindedly twisting the iron band on your ring finger until the small stone in the centre scratched at your skin. That Gods damned ring that bound you to the monster you called your husband. That iron cage that kept you as his possession instead of his love.

Yet the fear… the fear at the idea of removing it sat far too heavy in your chest. The fear of him finding you, punishing you. But he wouldn’t find you, you knew that. Rafe would never dream of crossing that veil into the Fae lands. And even if he did, you were sure he’d be eaten alive within the first breath he took in that world.

When you met Nesta and Cassian outside, they both had a satchel of their own on their shoulders; stuffed to the brim of bread and cheese and skins of water they’d raided from the kitchen.

The General nodded at you once as you approached. You wondered if you’d done anything to offend him, or perhaps he found this—you—to be an unnecessary burden to him and his day.

“Thank you,” you managed to utter, and both he and Nesta felt the pure relief and gratitude in your voice.

Cassian’s resolve softened, a sympathetic gleam in his eye and he hated himself for a moment for even considering leaving you here alone.

“It’ll take us half a day to reach the wall,” Nesta began, unmoving from Cassian’s side. “When we pass, Azriel will meet us at the border in Spring. Cassian cannot fly the both of us.”

You couldn’t help the apology that slithered up your throat. “I don’t mean to be a burden—“

But it was Cassian who growled in response, “You are not. You are family, and we don’t leave family behind.”

You walked for hours, legs sore and tired and throbbing from the stamina you lacked. But you didn’t want to stop, to ask for a break. They were kind enough to have brought you, you needn’t add any more time onto their already long journey.

So you kept your mouth shut and willed your legs to move, one in front of the other. Hours passed and you could feel that familiar panic rise in your stomach. Nightfall was approaching, which meant Rafe would surely be home by now…

You didn’t want to allow yourself to think of that. Of what he was doing after finding the home empty with nothing but your wedding band on the dresser, the only proof you ever even existed in that house.

It was Cassian who made the call to stop for a break, as though only now remembering how weak a mortal body was compared to a Fae’s—or in his case, an Illyrian.

Nesta had told you many things about her family in Prythian; the members of the Inner Circle, the beautiful city of Velaris and all the wonders it had to offer. Despite the relief you felt for leaving, the anxiety of entering the Fae lands was unmatched to anything you’d felt before.

You rested for only thirty minutes, the three of you eating your way through an entire satchel of food and two skins of water. Perhaps Nesta and Cassian were as tired as you were, though you figured not.

And by the time you reached the wall, night had surrounded you in complete darkness, nothing but a ripple in the air to suggest you had met the end of your homelands.

It was opaque for the most part, but the air seemed to glimmer and fold, as if you were looking magic dead in its face. You allowed your fingers to reach shakily for it, a fearful thought stopping you from making contact.

You turned to your cousin. “Will it hurt?”

She took your hand. “No, though when we pass through you’ll need to stay as close to Cassian and I as possible. Your scent—it’ll be a beacon to all sorts of creatures that roam freely within the Spring.”

Nesta shrugged off her jacket and handed it to you. “It’ll somewhat mask your scent. Just long enough until we meet with Azriel.”

You shoved your arms in the jacket as you put it on over your own and took Nesta’s hand again. Her eyes met yours, something akin to relief and sorrow flickering in her gaze. You didn’t want her pity. And it cleaved your heart into two knowing that you could never do anything to repay her for this, to express just how far your gratitude stretched.

Cassian and Nesta took three steps forward and as you followed, the air rippled around you…you breathed in the new life and second chance you’d been given.

But nothing could have prepared you for what awaited on the other side of the veil.

The first and only thing you saw were a set of sharp, gleaming white teeth before you were shoved to the ground with a hard thud, your head hitting against soft grass with a thump.

Snarls and grunts and shrieks surrounded you, and in the time it took to regain your bearings, Cassian and Nesta were sheathing their daggers once more as the…thing that had attacked lay dead on a field of daisies.

With eerie calmness, you assessed the creature. It was huge, twice the size of Cassian and about four times the size of you. Dark black fur covered its body and ruby red eyes that lifelessly stared into your very soul.

For some strange, obscene reason, you couldn’t bring yourself to look away. Not as you breathed in the fresh soil beneath your feet. It felt as though your world had been turned on his axis, as if only now could you see clearly.

Then you heard it, a distant swooshing in the wind. You angled your neck toward the noise, eyes not needing to squint in the darkness as the stars illuminated the sky so beautifully.

Your brows furrowed, but you did not look away. “Something is coming.”

Both Nesta and Cassian followed your gaze then, stepping closer to your still body. The figure came closer, your initial thoughts of it being a large bird being dismissed as a pair of wings much like Cassian’s, only larger, flipped through the midnight air.

You smelt him before catching his face. Pine and wood and parchment. Mint. There was a hint of mint and something sweet like cinnamon as the glorious Illyrian landed swiftly onto the grass.

Azriel.

You remembered him, the Shadowsinger. Silver streaks of the moon casted across his brown skin as he approached swiftly, those dark and languid shadows moving across his form and snaking the earth until they halted at your feet—assessing.

“So glad you finally joined the party.” Cassian said in greeting, though Azriel paid no mind to the tone his brother offered.

Those shadows wrapped around your ankles softly, slinking your skin as they felt you out. You felt something then, a tug in the air that seemed to pull the shadows back to Azriel’s towering form.

That was when you looked at him, breath stolen from your lungs. He was beautiful. A warrior, that you could tell. Solid muscle covered every inch of him, dark black hair that sat messily on his head and swept down his forehead and brows. Hazel eyes met yours, his lips parting—no doubt at the state of your bruised face.

He was beautiful when you’d seen him previously on his brief visit to speak with Lucien… but now, it was as though you were seeing him truly–with so much clarity in your gaze it almost blinded you. Everything about this land did. 

“There are more coming, so unless you want a fight, I suggest we leave.”

His tone held no room for argument, yet he spoke in an unrushed drawl, as if these creatures were the least of his concern. He was as large as Cassian, daggers strapped to his leathers, so you supposed they likely posed little to no threat to him and his skills.

“Can you winnow?” Nesta asked.

It wasn’t lost on you how overlooked you were, despite being the reason for his presence. But like most of your life, it came as no surprise to be somewhat invisible. Cast aside. Unnoticed.

Azriel shook his head. “We’ll need to fly to the border between Autumn and Winter, from there I can winnow us back to Velaris.”

Cassian nodded, reaching for Nesta. “We’ll go first, make sure the area is safe. Follow us in five minutes.”

Nesta looked at you, a silent conversation between you both.

You’ll be okay?

I’ll be fine. If you trust Azriel then so do I.

No other words were exchanged when Cassian hauled Nesta into his arms, spread his magnificent wings and shot to the skies. You watched until they were a mere dot beside the stars before returning your attention to the Shadowsinger who was already offering you his.

“It’s nice to see you again, Y/N.” He said politely.

You wondered if he’d remembered your name from your first and last encounter almost a year ago, or if when Cassian sent word for aid he’d reminded him of it.

Either way, you offered a timid smile. “You too, Azriel. I apologise for troubling you with this. All of you.”

He shook your apology off. “It’s no bother. Are you hurt anywhere?”

You knew he wasn’t referring to bruises and cuts you already adorned. It seemed as though stepping through that veil gave you more clarity, more understanding of silent thoughts and everything else around you.

You shook your head. “No.”

“Good.” He nodded, and those shadows threatened to reach for your ankles again.

Azriel didn’t pull them back this time, only took a tentative step closer. “I apologise, they’re no threat. Not to you.”

You nodded, gaze upon them as they slinked further up your body and wrapped softly around your arms. Azriel almost bristled at the way you remained so calm. He wondered how much about him and his family you knew. He supposed Nesta had told you much through letters and such.

You didn’t reply, couldn’t bring yourself. You knew how deadly the Inner Circle could be to their enemies. And yet these shadows touched you with more softness than your husband ever did. You didn’t let that thought show on your face.

“Everything feels different on this side of the wall,” you admitted, a little breathless.

Azriel remained looking at you. “Everything feels…clearer.”

You waved the shadows off your body gently, silently shooing them back to their master.

“I’ll need to fly you like Cassian did to Nesta,” he began. “Are you afraid of heights?”

You didn’t know the answer to that. But the thought of being held by him the same way Nesta was by Cassian… that thought scared you. And not because it was Azriel, but because of the sheer closeness and intimacy that was needed for it.

You swallowed it down. “No… I don’t think so.”

He nodded, taking another step closer with an outstretched hand. “You can close your eyes if you wish, and I’ll fly slowly, I swear.”

You heard it then, the pattering of paws on the grass, of claws digging into the soil and snarls of breath into the night. You looked to Azriel, eyes a little wilder than before. He nodded, as if he already knew what you were about to say.

He held out his hand further for you to take, and you took a hold of his marred skin, calloused under your softer palm but you didn’t balk, didn’t pull away as you got a clearer view of the scars that adorned him.

Azriel hoisted you into his arms, cradling you to his chest. “The take off will be harsh, make sure you hold on tight to me.”

And he wasn’t lying. Azriel bent his knees and shoved his full weight into the earth before you both shot into the starlit skies. You didn’t close your eyes, you wanted to see everything this world had to offer. A world that was always at your fingertips but never accessible until now.

The wind seemed to whisper to you, gently caressing your bruised skin and promising a better life. A new life. As though the elements welcomed you home. 

It was only moments of uphill force until Azriel evened out and began a steady speed through the clouds. His scent enveloped you, almost overbearing as it encompassed all of your senses.

You worried for a moment then. If his scent surrounded you this way, you wondered how badly yours did to him with such heightened senses. You tried to hold your breath for longer than usual, tried to steady your heartbeat, afraid he’d hear it.

“Are you okay?” He murmured against the shell of your ear. Because even though you tried to mask it, he could sense your every feeling, your every tremor and sigh and sob.

Tears streamed down your face as he flew you both north toward the border between Autumn and Winter.

“Thank you, Azriel.” And you thanked him and thanked him and thanked him. Until your voice grew hoarse from the sobs and you let yourself realise that you were finally free.

Finally safe. 

In the transitioning week of being escorted to the Night Court, you had hardly spoken to a soul. For the first two days, you appreciated the silence, the safety–basked in it, even. Nesta had shown you to your room in the House of Wind, an incredible home built into the walls of a large mountain that overlooked the city of Velaris. 

“Should you need anything,” Nesta had said softly, “ask the House, it listens.” 

And she had been right. The first night, you thought of a hot bubble bath and a gentle breeze had sifted through your sheer curtains, guiding you to your personal bathing chambers where a hot bath had been drawn, scents of calming lavender and jasmine coating you. 

You only saw Nesta twice after that, once when she brought you some of her favourite romance books and again, two days later when she told you Feyre and Elain sent their love and well wishes. 

She’d had the family's healer, Majda, check you over for any untreated injuries, and when she came up short she offered you a few tonics for the discomfort and encouraged you to rest before sending you back on your way.

You shouldn’t have expected more, shouldn’t have longed for more. You supposed Nesta had done her part enough–saving you from Rafe and bringing you here. And yet, despite the House tending to your needs and the souls of the romance novels…you felt just as alone as you had in the mortal lands. 

You hadn’t seen Azriel since either, nor Cassian. You didn’t have much right to ask after them, to thank them again. They had their own lives and roles to fill, you knew your rescue had been nothing more than another third-grade mission to them. 

By the fifth day, the realisation had begun to sink in. That you’d been moved from one lonely home into another. Perhaps that was the course your life was fated to take–alone, unnoticed, nothing more than a ghost in the wind, nothing worth acknowledging. 

You wrote your thoughts into your leather-bound journal, the only form of release you had for these dark emotions. Yet every time the pen lifted from the parchment, you felt heavier than you had before. 

You were yet to leave your bedroom, often sitting at the window seat that overlooked the lights of the city, wondering what life awaited down there. Wondered if you’d ever get the opportunity to explore it. Nesta had mentioned that the House was warded from winnowing, the only way out was to fly or descend the ten thousand stairs. 

But you couldn’t fly, and you wouldn’t make the steps down either. You weren’t a prisoner, you knew that. But Nesta had done her part, saving you, bringing you to her and Cassian’s home. You were not her responsibility, not anyones. 

Yet, you couldn’t help but feel trapped, restricted. Moved from one stone building and into another. Perhaps that was what finally made you venture out of your room, barefeet padding across the cool floors.

You followed the winding staircase to a lower level, noting the ornate furniture that decorated the large space. A crackling hearth caught your attention, so inviting and warm in front of a plush couch. The House seemed to beckon you to it, a gentle breeze against the backs of your bare legs and it made your short nightgown sway. 

Following it, you sat on the couch and a thick blanket materialised and draped itself over your legs at the same time a steaming mug of tea and a new romance novel appeared on the table beside you. 

You smiled softly, warmth spreading in your chest as you thanked the House. 

An hour or so had passed, not that you were for certain, but the House remained silent. Nothing but sips of your tea and flipping of pages could be heard along with the crackling of the hearth. 

For a moment, you felt at peace in your own company. Completely content for this time to sit and read and know you wouldn’t receive a beating or worse for it. You stretched out your back, stifling a yawn as a pair of soft footsteps greeted your ears. 

Your eyes widened, an unnecessary apology already on the tip of your tongue, though for what you weren’t sure. That had become the norm for you, apologising for your every breath. 

But it was not Rafe that stepped out of the shadows, of course not. It was Azriel, in all his glory, wings tucked neatly behind his back and you counted the seven blue siphons that adorned his leathers. 

“Azriel,” you breathed, a sheepish smile on your face. 

Finally, some company. Someone to acknowledge your presence and to perhaps converse with. You shuffled on the couch, making to put your book down but all Azriel did was give you a terse nod in greeting and a thin smile before walking down the hall and out of your sight. 

It shouldn’t have hurt as much as it did. You should be used to this by now. You were used to it. But you couldn’t control that tiny thread of hope in your chest that things could be different. That you could be accepted and wanted and noticed. 

For the eighth night in a row, you were left in the dark with nothing but the crippling loneliness and aching of your soul to keep you company. 

a/n: thank you for reading!! this is the first instalment of this mini-series that i literally got the idea for two days ago lol. it'll be around 5/6 parts, smut will come and a few twists you won't expect!! unfortunately i'm unable to get my old page back (rhysazriel), which means most of my previous writings have been lost but i'll likely repost the ones i have saved in my google docs in the late future (plug!az being one of them)

if you enjoyed it, please consider giving it a like and reblog, your feedback is always appreciated!! <3

[greengoblinswifey]

Reunited— Luigi Mangione x Fem!Reader

summary— You’re reunited with your boyfriend luigi and he shows you just how much he missed you.

warnings— fingering, slight voyeurism, oral(f!receiving) praise kink, bit of crying but luigi comforts you, L bombs, unprotected sex, breeding kink, creampie, aftercare, fluff.

a/n— originally posted on my ao3, where there’s another luigi fic <3 FREE MY MF MAN!

︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿

Luigi Mangione was not just another face in the crowd, he was a polarizing figure. He gained national attention after allegedly carrying out a calculated act of vengeance against a corrupt CEO you couldn’t care less about. He claimed his actions were a response to widespread exploitation and inequality in the healthcare system and you were 100% on board.

After leaving behind a manifesto that exposed systemic greed and corruption, he disappeared, sparking an instant nationwide search. Supporters hailed him as a modern day vigilante, while detractors condemned him as a criminal. You were by his side through it all, not only as his girlfriend but as his confidant and staunchest ally.

You had met Luigi three years ago at a charity gala. While his presence was understated, his charisma was undeniable. You had a passion for uncovering the truth and you were drawn to his fiery intellect and his conviction to make a difference. When he confided in you about his disillusionment with the corporate world and his dream to spark real change, you stood by him, even as the risks escalated.

When the authorities finally caught him, it shattered your world. Luigi was supposed to be halfway across the country by then, safe and untouchable. But fate had other plans.

After days of navigating legal hurdles, your boyfriend was granted bail thanks to the efforts of the legal team you assembled and the donations pouring in from his legion of supporters. The day you picked him up from jail was a whirlwind of emotions. Crowds of people gathered outside the facility, holding signs and chanting his name. The media swarmed like vultures, cameras flashing as Luigi emerged, his posture unyielding despite the chaos.

The car was parked a block away, avoiding the thick of the chaos. As he stepped out, the crowd screamed. He lifted his hand in acknowledgment, his voice cutting through the noise.

“Read the manifesto,” he said, his tone commanding yet calm. “The answers you seek are in there.”

The crowd erupted, some cheering, others debating. But Luigi didn’t linger. He moved toward you, his gaze softening the moment he saw you waiting.

The lawyer drove the two of you to a safe house on the outskirts of the city. You couldn’t take your eyes off him, noticing the tension in his shoulders and the faint bruising along his jawline.

“Baby, did they hurt you?” you asked, your voice trembling.

He exhaled, brushing your concern aside. “Nothing I couldn’t handle. I’m just angry they didn’t let me speak.”

You reached for his hand, lacing your fingers with his. “They’ll hear you soon enough. You’ve already started something they can’t ignore.”

His eyes softened as he turned to you. “I missed you,” he murmured, his hand finding your thigh. “Every damn second I was in that shithole.”

You smiled, leaning closer. “You’re here now. That’s all that matters.”

He kissed you deeply, his hand tightening its grip. “You’ve been my anchor through all of this. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

The car ride felt impossibly long as the reality of the situation weighed down on you. You kept glancing at Luigi, his sharp profile shown by the fleeting city lights. Despite the calm mask he wore, you could see the exhaustion in his eyes.

You reached over, your fingers brushing his arm. “I was so scared for you,” you whispered, your voice breaking. Tears began to spill before you could stop them.

Luigi turned to you immediately, his expression softening. “Don’t cry, amore. I’m here now,” he murmured, pulling you closer. He pressed a series of tender kisses to your cheeks, wiping away the tears with his thumbs.

“It’s just so unfair,” you choked out. “The media, the critics—they don’t know you like I do. You’re not some monster. You’re brave, kind, and caring. You only wanted to help people.”

He cupped your face, his gaze locking with yours. “Let them say what they want. I don’t need their approval. I have you, and that’s all I care about.”

You leaned into him, his words wrapping around your heart like a balm. “I just don’t want to lose you again.”

“You won’t,” he promised, his voice low and steady. “No one can keep me from you.”

As the car drove deeper into the night, Luigi’s hand found its way to your thigh, his touch warm against your skin. He glanced down at your dress, his lips curving into a sly smile.

“You look so sexy in this,” he murmured, his voice a husky whisper. “Did you wear it for me?”

“Yes,” you admitted, heat rushing to your face.

He chuckled softly, his fingers tracing circles on your thigh. “Good. Because it’s driving me crazy.”

He leaned closer, his lips brushing against your neck. You shivered as he placed a trail of slow kisses along your skin. “You smell amazing,” he murmured against you.

His hand slid higher, and when his fingers brushed your bare pussy, he froze for a moment before letting out a low, appreciative moan. “You’re not wearing anything underneath?” he asked.

You shook your head, your breath hitching.

“Naughty girl,” he whispered, his voice laced with both amusement and desire. His fingers trailed to your clit, the heat of his touch making you bite your lip to keep from making a sound.

“Luigi,” you whispered, your voice trembling with both anticipation and the need for discretion.

“Shh, amore,” he said, his lips still pressed to your neck. “Be good for me. Stay quiet.”

His fingers moved with purpose, his slow circles on your clit sending your nerves into a frenzy. “You’re so perfect,” he murmured, his breath hot against your ear. “I missed this, missed you.”

The car hit a bump, jolting you both, and you bit back a gasp as he slipped a finger into you immediately, your hand gripping his arm tightly.

Up front, the lawyer cleared his throat, oblivious. “Almost there,” he said.

Luigi smirked, his fingers still working their magic. “Good. But not soon enough,” he whispered, his lips brushing your ear as he praised you softly.

His touch became more deliberate, his fingers moving in a way that left you struggling to suppress your reactions. His gaze flicked up to yours, a teasing smirk playing on his lips.

“You’re doing so well for me, amore,” he murmured, his voice low and soothing. “I can feel how much you missed me from how wet you are.”

Your breath hitched as he praised you, his movements precise and slow, building that feeling inside. He kissed the side of your neck again, murmuring against your skin, “I love seeing you like this, knowing I’m the only one who can make you feel this way.”

You buried your face in the crook of his neck, biting to suppress your moans as his fingers curled inside you with his thumb rubbing your clit.

“I can’t—” you breathed, biting your lip to quiet yourself as your orgasm built.

“Cum for me, beautiful,” he whispered, speeding up his movements.

You bit onto his shoulder, using your other hand to pull him onto you as your orgasm ripped through you like a knife. You really hoped the seats weren’t messy.

The car slowed as it neared the safe house, and Luigi reluctantly withdrew his hand, his eyes dark with unspoken promises. “Just wait til’ we’re inside,” he said softly, his fingers brushing your chin as he gave you a quick, knowing smile.

His lawyer parked the car in front of the nondescript safe house, stepping out to hold the door for both of you. Luigi exited first, straightening his suit jacket before reaching for your hand. “Thank you,” he said curtly to the lawyer, who nodded and drove off into the night.

The moment you were inside, Luigi shut the door, locking it and turned to you, his expression filled with an intensity that took your breath away.

“I couldn’t stop thinking about you,” he said, his voice rough as he pulled you close. His hands framed your face as he kissed you deeply, his body pressing you back against the nearest wall.

“Lui—,” you whispered, your hands tangling in his hair as his lips moved to your neck, leaving a trail of kisses that made your knees weak.

“You’re mine,” he said firmly, his voice filled with both affection and possessiveness.

His hands roamed down your sides, gripping your waist as he pulled you even closer. “I’m going to remind you how much I missed you,” he said, his voice a mix of promise and passion.

Luigi carried you effortlessly, his strong arms wrapping you in the warmth of safety as he navigated the unfamiliar safe house. He gently kicked open the door to what you assumed was the bedroom, setting you down on the soft mattress. His touch was soft, fingers lingering on your shoulders as he slid your straps off, his eyes scanning every inch of you like he was seeing you for the first time.

“Do you have any idea how much I missed you?” he murmured, his voice filled with longing.

Your response was barely a whisper. “I’ve thought about you every second.”

He tilted your chin upward, his lips brushing yours in a kiss that deepened with every passing moment. As he undid the zipper of your dress, his movements were deliberate yet gentle. The fabric pooled at your feet, and his breath hitched slightly as his gaze took your naked body in.

“You’re beautiful,” he said, his tone awestruck. His fingers threaded through your braids, tugging softly as he kissed you again, his lips tracing a path down your jawline and neck.

Your hands instinctively found his curls, tangling in them as he lowered himself to his knees before you. “Baby,” you whispered, the emotion in your voice evident.

“Shh,” he replied softly, his lips brushing your skin. “I need to take care of you first. Tell me how much you missed me.”

“I missed you so much,” you said, voice trembling with emotion. “I love you, Luigi.”

“I love you more than anything. Let me show you just how much,” he replied.

His hands caressed your thighs, his lips trailing kisses down your skin. His touch was reverent, almost as if he were worshiping every inch of you, his deep brown eyes gazing up with adoration.

“You’re perfect,” he murmured, his voice soft yet full of conviction. “Every part of you.”

His lips pressed against your pelvis, leaving a trail of warmth and affection that sent a shiver through your body. Each kiss was slow and deliberate, his presence grounding you even as your heartbeat quickened.

“Luigi,” you breathed, your voice trembling with emotion and pleasure. Your hand instinctively reached for his curls, tangling in them as he smiled against your pussy.

“Let me take care of you,” he said. “You���ve been so good for me—so patient, so strong.”

Your head tilted back, overwhelmed by the sensation of his devotion. His praises washed over you like a balm, soothing the ache of the days you’d spent apart.

His tongue moved with precision, licking your clit as he used his fingers to spread your juices across your hole. A gasp left your lips as he moved down, slipping his tongue inside your pussy then continuing his movements on your clit.

“You’re everything to me,” he continued, his hands gently gripping your hips as he sucked your clit. “I don’t deserve how good you’ve been throughout this, but I’ll spend my life proving how much I love you.”

His voice alone sent a rush of warmth through you, every syllable filled with sincerity. “I love you too,” you whispered, your voice breaking slightly as your emotions surged.

Luigi’s lips curved into a small smile. “You’re too good to me, but I’ll never take it for granted.”

The sincerity in his voice made your heart swell. Every touch, every flick of his tongue was a promise that he would always cherish you, protect you.

He didn’t rush a single movement, cherishing the connection between you. You cried out as you gripped his curls tighter, your orgasm threatening to spill over.

“God baby, I can feel you clamping around my tongue, it’s okay, you can cum for me,” he urged.

With his name on your lips like a prayer, you trembled as you squirted on his tongue. He slurped your juices, guiding you through your high and savoring your taste.

When he finally finished and stood up, his arms pulled you close, cradling you as if shielding you from the world. “You’re my everything,” he whispered. “I’ll never let anything happen to us. I promise you that.”

Your hand rested on his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. “I believe you,” you said softly.

He smiled, brushing a strand of your braids from your face. “Good.”

Luigi’s chuckled as you gently ran your fingers along his chest, stripping him off his clothes then pushing him to sit on the edge of the bed. His dark eyes glimmered with warmth, his hands lightly brushing against your waist.

“You’ve done so much for me,” you murmured, leaning closer, your voice low but full of intent. “Now it’s my turn to show you how much I’ve missed you.”

His gaze softened, his hands sliding to your wrists as if to stop you. “You don’t have to do anything, amore,” he said, his voice tender. “Just having you here, holding you, it’s enough.”

You pouted but decided not to be a brat this once. “Whatever you say baby, anything you want.”

Luigi sat back, his strong arms pulling you onto him as if he couldn’t bear even a second without your closeness. He settled you against his chest, your bodies perfectly aligned, his heart beating steadily beneath your ear. “So obedient,” he murmured, his lips brushing your temple before moving to your forehead for a lingering kiss.

He tilted your chin up gently, his dark eyes locking with yours. “Are you sure?” he asked, his voice low and gravelly. “I need to hear you say it.”

You nodded, your breath catching. “I’ve been craving this—craving you—this whole time,” you whispered, your words trembling with sincerity.

That was all the encouragement he needed. His lips met yours in a deep kiss, one that spoke of everything unspoken, the longing, the love, the relief of being together again. His hands caressed your ass, grounding you as he shifted beneath you.

He paused, his movements deliberate, as he guided his cock against your pussy. “Slowly, baby,” he murmured, his hands firm but gentle on your hips. “I want you to feel every inch of me.”

A gasp escaped your lips as he sank deep inside you, your body adjusting to the slow, deliberate rhythm he set. “That’s it,” he praised, his voice rough with restrained need. “You’re perfect—so tight, so ready for me.”

Your nails dug lightly into his chest as the intensity built, his words spurring you on. “You can take it, baby,” he murmured, his lips ghosting over your collarbone. “You’re so incredible.”

Luigi's praises, whispered against your skin, grounded you in the moment. “You feel like heaven, amore,” he said, his voice breaking slightly as he kissed you again, swallowing your soft cries.

Luigi’s grip on your hips tightened, as he guided you into a slow, deliberate rhythm. Each thrust was purposeful, his body rising to meet yours. “That’s it, princess,” he murmured, his lips brushing against your jawline. “You’re so perfect. I’ve missed you more than you can imagine.”

You clung to him, your fingers tangling in his curls as he set a steady pace. Every thrust was measured, filling you and making your breath hitch. “You’re taking me so well,” he whispered, his voice breaking with restrained emotion. “I can feel how much you’ve missed me.”

Your head tilted back, exposing your throat as his lips pressed against your skin, leaving a trail of kisses that make you shiver. “Luigi,” you gasped, your voice trembling.

“Shh, amore,” he soothed, his hands running up and down your spine as he adjusted the angle slightly, his cock moving inside your wet pussy deliberate and controlled. “Let me take care of you. Just feel me.”

His thrusts deepened, his hips rolling in a way that sent shivers down your spine. “You’re so beautiful like this,” he murmured, his dark eyes locked on yours, filled with unspoken affection and need. “So perfect for me.”

“Lu— I’m gonna cum,” you cried, your fingers gripping his hair tighter.

“I know baby, do it for me, cum on my cock,” he muttered.

Your body convulsed on top of him, your breath catching in your throat as your orgasm hit you like a truck. He continued thrusting inside you, guiding you through the intensity of the moment.

Without missing a beat, he flipped you so that he was on top of you, his cock still inside you. His soft lips came down onto your tits, swirling his tongue around your nipples as soft whimpers left you. You tried to grip onto him but he pinned your arms above your head, leaving you completely at his mercy.

He thrusted into you deeply, your body jolting upwards as you cried out.

“Oh, fuck, that feels amazing,” you moaned, feeling him continuously brush that sweet spot inside you.

He went faster at your praises, his hips snapping to meet yours. “God, you’re so wet for me, beautiful.”

His large hands gripped your waist, slamming you onto his thick cock. His hand then moved to your lower abdomen, pressing against the outline of his cock moving inside you.

“Feel me baby? Feel how deep I am inside you?” he murmured, pressing on your abdomen and slamming into you.

“S-so deep,” you whimpered.

He reached down to rub your clit, feeling your pussy flutter around him as his pace never faltered.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum baby, I know you are too. I’m gonna cum deep inside you, gonna breed this pretty fucking pussy,” he said.

You wrapped your legs around him, grinding against him. “That’s my good girl, trap me in baby, cum with me while I fuck a baby into you.”

His words sent you over the edge and you moaned his name as you felt his hot load spurt deep inside you. “Take it, take it, take it, beautiful,” he gasped, fucking you as ropes of his cum spurted inside you.

You babbled incoherent words, shivering under him as the intensity of the moment was almost too much.

“Now, when you get pregnant, you’ll always have a piece of me,” he cooed. He stayed buried inside you, relishing in the warmth and wetness of your pussy.

Luigi gently pulled out of you, his hands steady as he helped you shift. His concern for you was immediate, his touch soft as he carefully helped you to your feet. “Let’s take care of you,” he whispered, his voice filled with care. He guided you to the bath, his eyes never leaving you, as if making sure you were okay, every part of you.

He settled behind you in the large, warm tub, the water soothing as he wrapped his arms around you, his chest against your back. You leaned into him, feeling the warmth of his body surround you, as he gently massaged the soap across your skin. His hands were steady and comforting, washing away the physical remnants of the day, but it was more than that—he was taking care of you in every way, his touch full of tenderness and love.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured, kissing the back of your neck softly. “I promise, I won’t let them take me away again. We’ll fight this, together.”

You closed your eyes, your heart swelling with emotion as you leaned back against him. His hands gently cupped your face, turning you to look at him. “I really hope so,” you whispered, the fear from earlier still lingering, but his presence grounding you. “I’ll always be by your side, Luigi. No matter what happens.”

He smiled, a soft, knowing smile that reached his eyes. “I know,” he whispered, his voice full of reassurance. “And I’ll never let you go.”

As the warm water surrounded you both, the world outside seemed so far away. All that mattered was the two of you, in that moment, connected in a way that nothing could tear apart.

[couldeatthatgirlforlunch]

OMG I have an idea

What if a villain hit reader with a love potion and the Yandere JL has to deal with reader being obsessed with one of them until it wears off🙏🙏😭(I LITERALLY LOVE YOUR YAN JL WORKDGHBJB)

A Day in Life: Love Pollen

Synopsis: A day in your life where you get hit with love pollen, get kidnapped, and are rescued by the Justice League.

Pairing: Yandere!Justice League X Assistant!Gn!Reader

Tw: 18+; PDA; Dry humping; Kinda public sex bc they're in a deserted island’s beach, so it's basically out in the open but no one’s around; Dubcon/noncon bc, you know, love-and-kinda-sex pollen; Also maybe drugging bc of that; Writer is the Justice League's weakness; Hal Jordan is a little shit; Needles; English is not my 1st language.

Word count: 2,1k

Requested? Yes.

Extra notes: I imagine the League’s marketing will have a hard time after this little stunt, I mean, there's no way no one caught that on camera

General masterlist | A Day in Life - Series masterlist

The Legion of Doom had a plan. They invaded a political event in Metropolis, with the presence of the Justice League as the president’s security team, the League being the target. First, Poison Ivy release pollen throughout the whole city, as a distraction, making people hallucinate that they were in love with one another. Crazy in love. It would be okay, if her experiment didn't cause chaos. All over the streets, some people were having sex out in the open, some were fighting and killing because of jealousy and cheating, some were committing robberies to give their “loved ones”. It was pure chaos and only the quick reflexes, powers and gadgets from the League spared the team from getting hit.

Half the team went to deal with the distraction, saving and restraining people, giving them the antidote, etc. The other half, took care of the villains. After a few hours, the Legion of Doom was taken down and the city’s security and health workers took over the job, the chaos being a lot easier to contain since they were spreading the antidote through the air, it would take at least an hour to spread it throughout the whole city, and then the ones who somehow weren't able to breath it, but mostly, just the mess left behind was the real issue.

You were standing with the rest of the crew on the event, watching the League and the politicians discoursing for the press and TV. When the mayhem started, for the first few seconds, you got startled and froze. Looking between the League, the scared crowd, and the villains invading the place. Suddenly, you breathed some thick smoke and your eyes shot to the heroes, silently urging them to do something, when your eyes locked on Green Lantern’s, the pollen’s effect kicked in. You got dizzy, something snapped, and then everything changed.

Wait, when did Green Lantern's jaw got so sharp? And his muscles so defined? Oh, and he was so big and tall. Did he do something to his hair? Wow, his ring is glowing now and he's flying. He's so cool and powerful. A true hero. Shit, he's coming in my direction. Hehe, he's using a construct to lift me and my coworkers to a safer place as if it was nothing. Imagine flying with him every day. How does he look without the mask? Ugh, must be perfect, if his jaw and lips were anything to go by. I can't even see the color of his eyes! And- and please stop looking me in the eyes and touching my shoulders and asking me if I'm okay, of course I am, I'm with you. No. Nooo. Come back here! Let the others deal with the bad guys, I'm right hereee! Nooooo!

You were depressed and deflated the whole time your soulmate was away. A journalist team from outside the city arrived at some point and you were able to watch the fight — Normally, Lois Lane would do the transmission, but she's too busy making out with her cameraman, she was in the crowd too. —. You started crying watching your lover fighting with Sinestro. When he won, and everything was fine, was when you finally calmed down and just started anxiously waiting while ignoring your colleagues strange antics, one of them even hitting on you. Didn't she know you and Green Lantern were in love?

When the League was back, the paramedics were starting to give the crew the antidote, you were next in line, however, as soon as you saw the heroes, you broke into a sprint.

— Green! — You yelled, catching everyone off guard. Even more so when you jumped and hooked your legs around the brunette’s waist, your arms around his neck, and kissed him passionately.

Hal was so shocked that it took him two seconds to reciprocate the kiss, ignoring completely the gasps from his friends. You moaned against his lips, mumbling a jumbled mess of “I love you”, “I missed you”, “was so worried”, “so glad you're back”.

Someone groaned.

— Batman, just give them that damn antidote before I lose it. — Batman grunted and Hal struggled but managed to separate your faces for a moment. You tried to push your face towards his again, but he grabbed your jaw. You kept forcing your face against his hand and whining. It was really cute, and your willingness and the previous sensation of your lips ignited something in his belly, yet, he looked to the side just in time to see Batman preparing the needle, the rest of the League sulking on the side and glaring at him.

His mind worked rapidly, ignoring the texture of your soft lips pampering kisses against the skin of his hand. When he felt the tip of your tongue, he made a decision.

A bad one.

— Yeah. I don't think so. — Green Lantern conjured several chain constructs, chaining the League's arms and ankles to the ground. It wouldn't hold off the ones like Superman and Wonder Woman who were strong enough to break it, and Martian Manhunter who could just invade his mind or use his intangibility, Flash was also pretty capable of taking him on, but Hal was smart and sagacious. Still holding you, he made a rocket construct around you both and took off.

Really, a terrible idea.

Superman and Wonder Woman, in a cry of rage, broke the chains. Diana unsheathed her sword, her feet not even touching the ground anymore, flying, ready to go after the traitor. Martian passed through the construct, while Superman went to break Batman and Aquaman free, Flash vibrated fast to rearrange his particles and also escaped.

— We need a plan. — Batman’s voice stopped the amazon warrior from going in a hunt for blood. He was already stressing over what the marketing team could do to fix this.

— A plan? We can defeat the enemy and retreat my darling if we go now! — Wonder Woman barked.

— Green Lantern is impulsive. If we go now we can destroy the whole state and hurt (Y/N) in the process. He won't give them up easily.

— Batman's right. — Superman agreeds. — Flash, follow them and see where they’re going. — The speedster nodded and took off.

Barry shook his head, cursing his idiot best friend the whole way.

Between the whole team, Hal was clearly the only one who would be okay with you falsely loving them. The rest wanted something more genuine for you. Some of them would settle for you not loving them as much as they loved you, some wanted you to feel exactly the same amount of what they felt. Hal still loved you just like them, but he always had that certain level of insecurity that craved to be better than anyone, to impress, making everything a competition, and the sensation of being the only one to have you could certainly cloud his judgment and accept your love, even if fake. He just thought he could compensate by treating you the right way, and not just using that opportunity to do whatever he wanted with you, just because he could and you wouldn't complain. He could make this about you both, and not just about him.

Either way, every one of them (thought) they deserved their fair chance at winning you over.

— Manhunter, can you still read his mind and tell what he is thinking? — Manhunter nodded and his eyes started glowing, there was a second of silence before he spoke.

— It's getting weaker as he gets more distant. It's purely impulsive thinking. Green Lantern isn't considering the consequences and means no harm against Earth or us. — Batman nodds.

— That's a shame. I mean harm. — Wonder Woman mutters, Batman glared and Superman side-eyed her. Batman turned his communication on.

— Flash, tell us when they stop moving.

— If he touches them, I will personally kill him. — Aquaman darkly states. Superman took a step in his direction, facing him head on.

— No, you won't. — The two stared at one another intently, until Batman broke the silence.

— Focus. We don't have time for this. — The dark knight stated.

— We need to be collected and work as a team to act smoothly on our plan. — Martian reminds them. Wonder Woman steps down again and sheats her sword. They all form a circle and start planning.

The sky was never this blue and the sand never this warm and soft. Even with the warmth of the sun being so intense, you were laying on a palm tree's shadow, and the air was flowing just fine. What was actually making you sweat was the dry humping you and your soulmate were doing.

You don't remember ever getting so aroused in your whole life, and can't remember ever desiring someone so much. You could kill someone if they dared to try and steal him away from you.

Hal felt you carding your fingers through his hair and pull slightly, giving him shiver, and he squeezed the flesh of your hips. You moaned against his lips at a particularly stronger wave of pleasure. The clothes were a curse, stopping you from feeling the real him, so you desperately started clawing at his clothes. Green Lantern breathily chuckled.

— Relax, hot stuff, we have time… — He whispers with a smirk. The man held your hands and laid them on the ground, above your head. You just moaned, more needy, and pushed your hips against his, eliciting a hiss from his red and swollen lips.

His hands started unbottoning your shirt and freeing the fabric out of your pants. You kept your hands were they were and watched, eyes wide open, when he descended kisses from the middle of your chest, going south, only pausing at your waistband.

As much as you wanted to feel his mouth more, seeing him so covered and not being able to properly touch him was making you restless, so you sat up, surprising him, and started pulling up the fabric at the back of his neck. Hal chuckled and shook his head, humoring your needs. He helped you take it off, then pushed your own shirt down your arms, until it was off.

You paused, admiring his adonis body. Your heart raced and eyes watered, never having seen something so perfect your whole life. Even his scars were beautiful. His chest hair and happy trail looked really soft and somehow he looked even more muscled, strong and beautiful. You wonder why you rejected him before.

Hal Jordan basked in your amazed gaze, loving to show off, especially while doing nothing. He frowned weakly, and gave a reassuring grin when you pouted, slumped and frowned.

— What's this, sweetheart? I thought you were enjoying this. — To lift your mood, he started running his hands up and down your sides.

— I wanted to see your face… — Hal remained silent for a few seconds. They would tell you their identities eventually, and that fact kept being brought up on reunions. They all knew at some point, you would have to know, to really start a relationship, yet, Batman, and his paranoia, kept them all from telling you. Sometimes, it felt like a sabotage, but mostly, it made sense, since the guy had a bunch of kids, who could be in danger if the information somehow got leaked, still, you couldn't trust to let them in, if they didn't let you in. That was the only reason you didn't trust them, of course.

Also, a face was not a name. Hal wasn't famous, so how bad could it be? Especially if it would turn you on so much, and when you looked so damn cute. His own lust was also influencing his critical thinking, which was already second place to his impulsiveness.

Hal bit his lower lip and brought his face closer to yours, a few centimeters away from having your noses touching.

— Okay… Take it off… — You let out a happy squeal and reached up with both hands. Your heart pounded with anticipation, making you go slower to savor the intimacy even more. Hal closed his eyes when he felt the gentle tug, against his wishes to watch your eagerness and your lip biting in anticipation. His heart was also pounding.

You saw his right eye closed and his thick eyebrow, when suddenly, a loud noise rang out, scaring the shit out of you and prompting Hal to fix the mask again, get up and assess for danger.

He finally fell to his senses and realized something.

He just took the worst decisions ever.

Everything happened too fast. Flash was on your side, holding a needle to your arm, and Green Lantern was being thrown around by a red and blue blur. Only the feminine rageful scream gave you the hint to who it was.

You got up, ready to die for your soulmate, when the antidote kicked in.

You threw up.

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DC Taglist:

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[juletheghoul]

JULES! It's currently 12:30am and I can't stop thinking about your Marcus gladiator fic. I need to scream this at you.

Picture this:

They are back in Rome. They are in the baths, public or private. I personally picture public ignoring the fact he would definitely get his own bathing area being a successful General but I digress. Someone has had a bit too much wine and gets a little too handsy and rough with his girl. That pisses him off so now he has to take a statement right? You can't touch what's his!

So he calls her into the water with him and has her continue the bathing while sitting on his cock before just eventually destroying her. Bonus points if he makes stoic eye contact with the offending party that started it all.

I cannot get this idea out of my head and I just had to share this with you.

Take care~! ❤️

Nonny - you really came for my fucking throat with this one... 😍😍😍 like... I stared at this with my jaw on the floor - what a mind you have... okay lets get into it

smut under the cut - 18+ and don't read more if you aren't into exhibitionism (not beta'ed and barely proofread lmao)

Series masterlist

---

The campaign was finally over, for now.

He'd marched into the city with his legions behind him, and the streets of Rome roared to herald their victor, the famous, brutal, but efficient, General Marcus Acacius.

He waved, and made the appropriate salutes to the city, but he was sparing with his smiles, his eyes scanning even here in the safety of Rome's breast, for anything that might threaten his safety. You watched him from your place behind him, along with the other slaves that had followed him and his soldiers off to war, invisible in his shadow to anyone but him, and a few brazen few who had decided to test his boundaries. They had been forgotten however, the only thing that occupied your mind, was him.

His first stop had been his villa, to settle his household. It was all very cut and dry, his staff knew to keep his house in order in his absence and they did so, enough that he hadn't even spoken more than a few words while he made his way through. While he set about getting settled in, you did the same, moving silently through his halls towards your modest quarters. The road had been long, and you thought that you could probably get away with bathing, and taking a few moments to yourself, trusting that now he would be well attended to.

You barely got your bearings when he cleared his throat at your door.

"Apologies Dominus, did you want for something?"

"Gather your things, we go to the baths."

-

The baths, strictly speaking, were for everyone. There were certain ones however, like the one you were in now, that were privately owned. This one, was owned by a member of the Senate and friend to the Roman army, and as such, was populated by a few other soldiers, and their attendants.

Marcus spoke very little by nature, he was a man who kept his words as close as he did his coin. He said even less when confronted with raucous laughter, and men who couldn't seem to keep their dignity when taking a cup of wine.

His jaw clenched as you both settled into the warm waters of the baths and you set about washing the march and the war and the violence off of his skin, sitting behind him to rub the knots from his shoulders while ignoring the ever increasingly loud soldiers around you. One of them, was the same that had tested his patience in his tent, and by the way he kept eyeing Marcus in front of you, had forgotten the lesson.

"The oil, girl." He spoke low over his shoulder, and you belatedly realized you'd left the oil he liked with the robes when you'd undressed.

"Yes Dominus." WIth haste, and not an ounce of shame, you rose up out of the water and went to grab the vial, finding it quickly, but before you could make it back to him you were cut off.

"I can see why you like this one General, I can see why you're so greedy with her." The same soldier stands in your way, his hands grabbing at your waist. The wine in his cup spills onto your naked skin and for a moment you're afraid he'll paw at you further but within a moment he's as still as a statue. That's when you notice, the deathly hush that falls over the whole place.

You look up into the soldiers face and his eyes are as big as plates, a small dagger pressed to the apple of his throat, the point just deep enough to draw blood. You hadn't heard him come out of the water.

"This is the last warning I give you, the next time you put your hands on what's mine, you will die." His voice was a whisper, but it echoed through the room. "Have I made myself perfectly clear?"

"Ye-yes, Yes General." all humor had gone from the man, and when Marcus had pulled away, all taste for wine had as well.

Wordlessly you followed Marcus back into the water, but instead of sitting in front of you, he pulled you to sit in his lap, keeping his eyes on the spurned soldier.

"I want you sitting like this." His hands settled on your hips and you felt the way he hardened beneath you, "Continue." He spoke low, but clear and kept his eyes focused, daring anyone to question him.

You did your best to focus on washing his hair, on rubbing the oil into the skin of his shoulders and his chest, but his hands wandered, grabbing at your ass and fitting his cock between the lips of your sex, drawing out your arousal and making your pulse quicken. His lips descended next, pressing softly to your shoulder while his eyes remained fixed. WIth a move, he slid his cock inside, pulling a moan from your lips, it only served to bolster him, making no move to conceal what he was doing and you knew it was part frustration from being at war, and driving home his point.

He said nothing, but he didn't need to.

People watched him take you there, in the water, and they said nothing. Any modesty you had, and shame had been worked out of you long ago and now, all you felt was pleasure. Both at him bouncing you on his cock, and at him having taught the soldier a lesson on your behalf. You ignored the part that sang the sweet song of ownership. You were his, and he relished the fact.

"Dominus-" You all but moaned into his ear, "May I have your gift?" You bounced on your own now, holding onto his neck, pressing yourself tightly to him.

"Yes Girl, it's yours, take it." He grit out the words, his eyes finally finding yours. You sped up, using your buoyancy to your advantage, clenching around him on the downstroke and when you felt his hands tighten around your hips you knew you had him.

"May I have your mouth, Dominus?" You watched his lips as you bounced, and he smiled a tiny smile before claiming your kiss with the same ardor that burned in your veins.

His tongue licked into your mouth and within a moment you felt the first spurt of him, deep inside where he liked it to be.

After a few minutes you made to move but his hands held you tightly. You took a look around, but unbeknownst to you, the baths had emptied and you were alone.

"I did not feel you flutter, and I am not yet clean."

---

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[mourn-and-watch]

in all seriousness, dragon age being almost officially dead to me is, like, whatever. i'm used to hanging out in dead fandoms because i'm usually extremely late to the party so i think i'll manage. i was excited for veilguard but even if it was bad bad for me (which it wasn't. i have my problems with it but they didn't ruin the franchise for me) i would also manage because dragon age to me always was extremely flawed but had an enormous potential for fan content. at some point i started to treat it like my favourite fantasy playground where i can smash pre-existing barbie dolls with the ones i made myself. all my barbie dolls are in place and i still can do whatever i want (and i plan to continue to do so) and, i guess, i shouldn't be upset.

i am upset, however. for all the devs affected by laid-offs, but especially the writers. these people created dragon age as we know it, and it's been a messy series in every aspect, including the writing, it's been insensitive at times, at times dumb and undercooked, but there was always an immense amount of potential that's been inspiring fans for years, and also a feeling that all, or at least the most of it was created with genuine passion. and realizing that there is no one left from the team that made dragon age what it is, every installment of it, is just. genuinely sad. and it's not a theseus ship dilemma, because it's not like they were slowly replaced one by one. they were just fired. this ship is destined to sink, it's falling apart in front of our eyes because neither ea nor bioware cares about writing. not many companies do nowadays, to be honest. and it's kinda devastating. grifters will celebrate that like a "downfall of woke slop", but they'll get only more ai slop instead, lol, because good writing doesn't guarantee good sells. best selling games of 2024 are shooters and sports games. and elden ring which is a nice exception, but an exception nevertheless.

i don't think mass effect will save bioware at this point. even if it's an absolute banger it still has to meet ea's expectations. which are unrealistic, to say the least. also people who wrote characters like mordin, tali, legion, thane, garrus and liara are all gone. either they left themselves or were laid off. like, if you want "old bioware magic" to return, there is none. the same people who wrote your favourite characters and storylines in da/me were also working on veilguard. i may be wrong, but somehow i think they didn't all lose their ability to write here because they went woke or whatever. i think the inconsistent quality of datv writing that can only be described as 'we're so back/it's so over' pic is a consequence of multiple rewrites, constant director changes and shitty decisions, both internal and coming from bioware/ea higher-ups. i also may be wrong, but it wouldn't be such a big problem if writing wasn't at the bottom of priority list.

if i recall correctly, when gaider left willingly, he highlighted that bioware didn't treat its writers seriously at that point. and i'd say that tracks. like, from countless veilguard rewrites and scrapped ideas to lay-offs of every single studio veteran.

idk what else there is to say. i'll cheer for every studio that value its writers and i hope all ex-bioware devs will be able to do something new and exciting. i also doubt bioware is the last studio that will experience such a decline in the years to come. the narrative of this shitshow will also be twisted into 'go woke go broke' and it already slightly draws me insane. fuck ea fuck bioware fuck grifters. also i beg everyone to start appreciating writing as a craft because otherwise it's only going to get worse!

[sweet-honey-fruit]

Wanted

Boothill x reader

Synopsis: Boothill has a wanted poster with your face on it

This is a snippet from what I was going to do. I might turn this into a series.

Warnings: boothill typical violence, cussing, boothill’s substitute cuss words, use of guns, mentions of splattered brains (but doesnt happen)

Masterlists: xxx

Out of bullets. Out of backup. Shit shit shit. You’re normally better than this. You are better than this. You wouldn’t have secured a job to personally work beside the Ten Stonehearts if you sucked at it. So why now? When it truly mattered, why start losing grip now?

The hallway on the space station was long and agonizing. It’s slim but somehow you still feel like prey in an open field. The grip you have on your gun is tight despite the blasphemous thing being out of ammo. How the metal is digging into the palm of your hand is the only thing keeping you grounded and focused. Focused on making it to the safe room. Focused on sending out that distress signal. Focused on the little hope you have left. Just focus.

The distant sound of gunshots urges you to run faster. Each round of shots fuels not only your need to escape but your overwhelming guilt as well. Normally you stay back and handle the threat. You stay back to help your agents and get them to safety. That's what you wanted to do. Yet the sight of seeing bodies upon bodies being thrown to the side by him, you started to, selfishly, second guess if you should.

What pushed you to get out was Jade's voice speaking through your earpiece. She specifically ordered you to run and to get to the safe room. She all but hinted that this was surely a fight you couldn’t win and you needed to get out now. She's normally calm and collected, tactical and calculating. Jade isn't one to order you to retreat for she has trust in your abilities. So when she told you to run, you ran like hell was after you.

For once, you prayed to the Amber Lord. Praying that your colleagues will make it out alive. Although, you doubted that.

The weight of your conscious is almost enough to weigh down your speed but once the familiar doors of the safe room enter your sight, all weight is washed away and it’s replaced with relief.

Finally, after minutes of running and dodging bullets, you’ve made it. You take deep breaths to calm your breathing as a shaky hand swipes your keycard over the mechanical padlock. With a loud beep that makes you internally cuss it out, you slip into the room. The moment the door shuts you collapse to your knees.

“Holy fuck.” You mumble, letting out a nervous laugh. Your gun clatters to the floor beside you as your hand loses the strength to continue the death grip. You run your hand over your uniform to try and soothe the ache that replaces the cold metal. What a shit show.

You have faced an astronomical amount of enemies throughout your line of work. Anywhere from the Anti-Matter Legion to Galaxy Rangers. All of them were a pain to deal with, sure, but this? This is something different. You have never seen someone so precise, so quick with a gun, and so cocky. Recalling everything just made your blood boil. It’s not even because he ambushed your crew. It was more of the fact that he was moonwalking while doing so. Honestly, who acts so casually in a fight?

Pass it off with humor all you want, but you know exactly why you’re left shaken. This was the work of one individual. The same individual that made eye contact with you in the lobby. His grin widened when you locked eyes, and his bullseye pupils seemed to have made you the target. It was chilling. The way your body tensed and the hairs on the back of your neck stood was foreign to you. You’re normally the hunter but in the moment you felt like prey. That feeling was followed up by Jade's command and it felt too much like an omen. Like all of this was for you. All of this was because of you.

You shake your head to get rid of those thoughts. No. There’s no reason why you should dwell on the situation. Only doing so will drag you down. With weakened legs you stand, stumbling over to the command terminal to send a distress signal out. You hesitate for a moment as you stare down at the screen. The blinking red of the button haunted your memory.

The bodies of your coworkers. The blood of the agents you were supposed to watch over on Jade's behalf. The screams of pain and terror as they tried to take down the threat that snuck onboard. No matter how hard you try, you can't push down that culpability. Your mind races at a million miles per hour, from one thought to the next, all about your irresponsibility. You tried to save who you could. You tried to take down the threat yourself. You shot so, so many bullets all for naught. Then he looked at you. Made a beeline for you. Was he here for you? Was this all your fault? Where did you go wrong? Why didn't you try harder to save the agents that were trusted to your care? Are you even worthy of saving?

Your breath hitches at the last question.

'Am I worth saving?'

Even so, that decision isn't up to you. It's up to the Ten Stonehearts. With reluctance, you press the button. There's a gentle ping that was supposed to reassure you that the distress signal was successfully sent. But all it did was make your gut twist with anguish. It shouldn't only be you in this room.

Your sorrowful eyes stare out the window with a glaze. In all of your times of need, it has always been the stars that brought you comfort. Always a shining, shimmering light in the dreadful place of your mind. For the first time since this morning, your mind goes quiet as you imagine yourself walking among the stars. You enjoy the tranquility of the safe room, taking the opportunity to worship the silence. No screaming, no commands, no gunshots.

Wait.

.

.

.

No gunshots.

Your moment of peace is ripped out of your hands and replaced with your heart dropping. Your breathing stops and slowly, ever so, you turn your head to look behind you.

Oh fuck.

There he is in all of his cowboy glory. The barrel of his gun is pointed right between your eyes and there isn’t a hint of hesitation on his face.

“Don’t tell me ya hidin’ from my welcome party.” His thick southern accent lays on thick at the realization of it all; you haven’t been fucked like this in a long time. Your gun is left on the floor. Even if it is out of ammo, you still could’ve potentially used it as an empty threat. You quite literally backed up against a wall. Alone. The only exit is being blocked by the blood-thirsty cyborg man in front of you. There’s no one left to provide backup.

That feeling creeps up your spine again as his eye pierces through you, just itching to pull the trigger on you.

"Is this what they consider southern hospitality?" You sarcastically ask, a glare settling into your eyes in hopes of masking that premonition deep within your bones.

There's a skip of a beat in your heart when there’s silence. A thick, heavy silence that only grows louder the longer you stare down the barrel of the pistol. It’s only broken by his boisterous laugh. A laugh that feels mocking. A laugh that makes you feel offended that you opened your mouth. You go from scared, to confused.

“Oh shucks! You got me gatherin’ tears in my eye! Holy fudgin shirt on a rag! It’s been a while since I had someone tell me a one-liner like that. You’re a hoot and a holler!”

He finds this humorous. He has a gun pointed between your eyes, eager to splatter your brains across the window behind you, and he finds this funny. You go from scared, to livid.

“Are you fucking serious?”

“Ha! At least one of us can say it-“

“Are you fucking serious? You murdered my coworkers, you’re threatening me, and you’re laughing?”

“Don’t go actin’ all high and mighty now, you IPC scum.” His mood switch gave you whiplash. What was once a lighthearted tone was turned into a low growl. He took one step forward, then another, and another until his chest was pressed up against yours. His breath fans over your face. Your back presses up against the command terminal. The soft red blinking of the distress button reflects off the shiny metal of the gun as he presses it against your forehead. Even so, the indignation coursing through your body is enough to fuel a stellaron.

“You shouldn’t be acting all righteous either. Wanted criminals don’t deserve to act so pompous.” You snap back, huffing out a breath.

“So ya know who I am?”

“Unfortunately.”

Boothill might as well be a cursed name among the IPC. A name that brings both fear and a migraine. You never had the courtesy to meet him until now. His wanted poster has been sitting on your desk for a while along with his list of crimes. The stack was so big that his crimes were used as a paperweight for a while. While he was annoying, the Ten Stonehearts put you on missions that were ‘more important.’ His information served more as a warning rather than a task.

Now you regret not going after him when you got the chance.

“It appears my ruckus has paid off.” He whispers, lowering the gun. You had a glimmer of hope that maybe, just maybe, that that was a sign he was leaving. That the distress signal wasn’t needed after all. He only allowed you enough relief to let out a shaky sigh.

The tip of the gun is pressed under your chin, tilting your head back to fully look up at his smug smirk.

“It’s a shame your wanted poster says wanted alive.”

Your eyes widen in his swift movements. With harsh movements, he slams the grip against your temple. There’s a burning, aching pain that spreads throughout your head and down the back of your neck. Your body falls to the floor with a harsh thud. You couldn’t help but think this is what you deserved for failing them all.

‘Am I worth saving?’ It appears the universe made that decision before your higher-ups.

Boothill kneels beside you, placing his gun back into his holster.

“Don’t ya worry. Ima take good care of ya.”

[aventurineswife]

Reader that's a demon that represents the sin of gluttony, reader can be very rude sometimes and is constantly seen snacking on stuff, reader became a demon after being sacrificed to the devil and ever since, they've called themselves one of the devils valiant soldiers, the characters accidentally end up falling in love with reader after witnessing reader cause mass destruction cuz they were pissed and the characters think reader is some sort of overlord but reader turns out to be super chill about being a demon and only act evil when they wanna make people scared of them or when they wanna prove a point(the annihilation gang and the legion is chasing reader and trying to get reader to join them, reader doesn't want to join the destruction.)

I was thinking Boothill, Aventurine, Blade, Kafka, Acheron, and Jing Yuan, you pick which character u wanna do!

Between Crumbs and Cataclysms

Tags: Aventurine x Reader, Kafka x Reader, Boothill x Reader, Demon!Reader, Dark Humor, Unlikely Allies, Chaos, Casual Destruction, Snarky, Found Respect, Morally Grey.

Warnings: Mild language, implied violence, destruction, morally ambiguous themes.

Aventurine stood at the edge of the casino’s grand balcony, the lights of the city sprawling beneath him like a sea of fireflies. The world always seemed like a gamble to him, a constant series of risks and rewards. But tonight, something felt… different.

His eyes narrowed as he observed the chaos unfolding below. The sounds of screams, explosions, and destruction rippled through the air, and in the middle of it all, a figure stood, casually munching on a bag of snacks—each bite taken with the same lackadaisical ease as if the entire galaxy's fate wasn't hanging in the balance.

Aventurine tilted his head, intrigued. He'd heard the rumors—whispers of a demon who devoured everything in sight, a being representing the sin of gluttony, one whose wrath could raze cities and whose casual disregard for destruction had become the stuff of legends. He’d even heard people call you an overlord.

But the image he’d built in his mind was not what he saw before him. You weren’t the terrifying monster that stories made you out to be. You were just… eating chips.

“What a spectacle,” Aventurine muttered under his breath, his usual flair for dramatic commentary giving way to something closer to genuine curiosity. He adjusted his blazer, ensuring his gold-lined roulette imagery caught the moonlight just right. His instincts told him you weren’t simply here for the chaos; there was something deeper to your presence.

He stepped forward with purpose, his polished black shoes clicking against the stone floor. As he approached, your gaze lifted, your eyes barely flicking over to him before you went back to chewing.

“Don't mind me,” you said casually, your voice rich with an uninterested tone. "I'm just having a snack."

Aventurine smirked, unable to hide the gleam of fascination in his eyes. He had seen many things in his life—risks, gambles, grand gestures—but nothing quite like you. You didn’t seem interested in his persona, his theatrics, or even his title as one of the Ten Stonehearts. To you, he was just another person in the chaos of the universe.

“Quite the appetite you have,” he remarked, still studying you as you reached into your snack bag for another handful. “Tell me, is this your idea of a… victory feast?”

You shrugged, not even bothering to look up from your snacks. "Victory? Nah. Just satisfying a craving, y'know? Got a lot of pent-up frustration and hunger. So, I'm making sure I don't go overboard this time."

Aventurine couldn't help but raise an eyebrow. “Pent-up frustration… So, what’s the gamble here? The city? Your snack supply?”

You smirked, a little amusement flickering in your eyes. "Nah. The gamble is whether or not people can learn not to cross me. It’s more fun when they think I’m some overlord trying to destroy everything. It gets the right kind of attention. Besides,” you added with a devil-may-care grin, “it lets me prove a point.”

He watched as you carelessly tossed a half-eaten bag of chips into the air, watching it explode in a cloud of crumbs as it collided with the side of a building. He chuckled softly. You didn’t act like an overlord, you probably were an overlord.

“You know, if you ever considered not throwing tantrums, you could be a dangerous ally,” Aventurine mused, his voice laced with interest. “But, of course, you enjoy keeping them guessing.”

“You bet,” you responded, leaning back casually. “I’ve got a reputation to uphold, don’t I?”

Aventurine’s eyes narrowed. There was more to you than met the eye, but there was something oddly compelling about the way you operated. Something that matched the duality of his own existence. Perhaps it was your unpredictability, or perhaps the fact that you didn’t try to pretend to be anything you weren’t.

His lips curled into a sly smile. “I think I could have some fun with you.”

Aventurine extended his gloved hand toward you, his gaze steady, waiting for you to either accept or dismiss his offer. As you looked at him, unamused, the tension between the two of you simmered.

Finally, you grabbed his hand and gave it a firm shake. “We’ll see. But only if you don’t expect me to be some kind of ally. I’ve got my own agenda.”

“Understood,” Aventurine replied smoothly. “I don't need another team member, just a… worthy adversary.”

Kafka observed you from the shadows, her sharp eyes studying the scene. Her right hand rested on her chin as she evaluated the chaos you'd unleashed, a tiny smirk tugging at the corner of her lips. Your destruction was swift and savage, like a storm in human form. Yet, your demeanor was as relaxed as someone enjoying a leisurely afternoon snack.

She watched you devour yet another sandwich with unsettling indifference, the residue of the city you’d obliterated already coating your lips. You were everything she had heard about and yet… completely opposite. The infamous demon of gluttony, they said. Yet here you were, casually making yourself at home in the wreckage you’d created.

Kafka’s finger twitched, and her mind spun with possibilities. It wasn’t often she encountered beings like you—those whose true power lay in their ability to confuse and manipulate perception. The rumors had portrayed you as an overlord, a figure of unimaginable wrath, but the reality was something else entirely.

She approached you slowly, her heels clicking softly against the debris.

“So, the great Glutton, in the flesh,” Kafka's voice was cool, her words carefully measured, as though testing the waters. “I must admit, I was expecting… more of a spectacle.”

You paused mid-bite, looking at her with a half-lidded gaze. “Spectacle?” you repeated, as if the word was foreign to you. “What, you think I’m supposed to scream and act all evil to prove a point? Nah, I just blow things up when people piss me off. Sometimes, I just want some peace, but I’m okay with chaos too.”

Kafka tilted her head, studying you further. Your casual air was nothing like the terrifying demon she'd imagined. You were too relaxed, too… human.

“You’re a demon, yes?” Kafka continued, circling you like a predator testing its prey. “But you don’t act like one.”

“Eh, it’s all about the show, isn’t it?” you shrugged nonchalantly, wiping your hands off on your shirt. “People are too quick to label. Besides, who wants to be all angry and ‘evil’ all the time? It’s way more fun letting people think you’re terrifying.”

Kafka chuckled softly, her eyes narrowing. There was something dangerously intriguing about you. Your ability to play with perception, to twist expectations to your advantage—she couldn’t help but admire it.

“But aren’t you a little tired of all the destruction? Of always being hunted by the Annihilation Gang, the Legion, the IPC? You could have power. True power.”

You glanced at her, a raised eyebrow showing the faintest flicker of curiosity. “Power’s overrated. What’s the fun in having all that when you can just snack on a sandwich and watch the world burn?”

Kafka’s lips curled into a smile. “You're more than just a destroyer, aren't you? You have an agenda—just as I do. Perhaps, we could join forces.”

You paused, considering the offer. "I told you. I’m not looking to join any group. I’m just here for the fun and the snacks. But sure, let’s see where this goes."

He had been tracking an unusual disturbance across the galaxy—an entity so powerful that even the IPC couldn't fully comprehend it. Boothill had heard rumors: A demon, said to embody the sin of gluttony, was wreaking havoc wherever they went. Some called them a harbinger of doom, others spoke of their insatiable hunger for power, but Boothill wasn't buying the hype. He'd seen his fair share of destructive forces.

He reached the site of the latest chaos—a once-bustling marketplace now reduced to rubble. The smell of charred food and debris filled the air. Boothill began to scan the wreckage. His eyes narrowed as he observed the scene. And then, there it was—a figure sitting casually on a pile of smoking ruins, munching on an oversized sandwich as if it were any other afternoon snack.

The figure was... relaxed. Too relaxed for someone who was supposed to be an unstoppable force of destruction.

"Well, well," Boothill muttered to himself, aiming his eye at the figure, which had yet to notice him. "A demon, huh? I’ve seen worse."

As Boothill approached, you lazily glanced up, crumbs falling from your mouth as you chewed. "Oh, hey," you said with a smirk, not even remotely phased by the carnage around you. "You look like a guy who might need a snack. Want one?"

Boothill blinked in confusion. This demon, the one who had been tearing through entire cities, was offering him food? The audacity of it. "I’m not here for a picnic," he growled. "I came to see what kind of monster you really are."

You shrugged, taking another bite of your sandwich. "Oh, you know, the usual. I make a mess, people get scared, and then they try to make me join some stupid legion or annihilation gang. Bunch of guys in robes trying to get me to sign on for world destruction, as if I’ve got time for that."

Boothill’s mechanical body hummed in surprise. "Wait, you're not here to destroy the galaxy? You just... do it for fun?"

You chuckled, tossing the sandwich aside. "I mean, yeah. It’s funny, isn’t it? People panic when I start causing chaos, and they always assume I’m some big overlord or something. But honestly, I just wanted to grab a few snacks and scare some people. Kinda like putting on a show. I’m not really into all this 'world-ending' business."

Boothill stood there, dumbfounded. His eyes scanned the scene once more—massive holes in the ground, torn-up roads, fire still smoldering in the distance. This was the work of someone who had no care for life, who thrived on destruction, who... just wanted to be left alone with a snack. It didn't make sense.

"That’s it? All this destruction, and you're just... chilling?" Boothill asked, still trying to wrap his mind around it.

"Yep. Don’t get me wrong, I’m a demon," you replied with a lazy yawn. "But I like to keep it casual. If I wanted to join the annihilation gang, I would’ve done it by now. But I’m not looking to end the world, just eat and take a nap. I’ve got better things to do than join some group of crazies."

Boothill was taken aback. Here was a demon who, despite their immense power, had no real desire to take over the world. All they wanted was food, peace, and maybe a little chaos for the fun of it. It was such a bizarre mix of menace and indifference that Boothill couldn’t help but feel intrigued.

"I thought you'd be more... intense," Boothill admitted, taking a cautious step closer. "Aren’t demons supposed to be all evil and hell-bent on destruction?"

You stretched lazily, your eyes twinkling with a hint of mischief. "Nah, that’s just a stereotype. I can be as evil as I want when it suits me. But really? I’d rather just get some rest. So, what about you? You’re not exactly the type to just wander around, are you?"

Boothill narrowed his eyes, still unsure whether to approach the situation as an ally or adversary. "I’m looking for revenge," he said simply. "The IPC destroyed my home, killed my family. I’m not here for petty politics, just destruction. Justice."

You raised an eyebrow, amused. "That’s a big mission. I’m more of a 'do what I want, when I want' kind of demon. Sounds like we’re not on the same page, huh?"

"Not really," Boothill agreed. "But... I respect the independence."

For the first time since meeting you, Boothill allowed himself a small smirk. This encounter was strange, but there was something about your carefree attitude that made Boothill pause. Perhaps you weren’t all bad. Maybe you didn’t fit the mold of the typical villain. You were... human in a strange, twisted way.

"So," Boothill asked cautiously, "What happens now?"

You stretched out and popped another snack into your mouth, grinning as you relaxed further into the ruins. "Well, I guess we go our separate ways. You keep chasing down your revenge, and I’ll keep avoiding those idiots who want me to join their death cults. We can always bump into each other again if you feel like a snack or two."

Boothill’s eyes glinted with amusement. "You sure know how to make a mess of things, but you don’t seem so bad after all."

You gave him a lazy wave, then popped another snack into your mouth, smiling with satisfaction. "Yeah, well, someone’s gotta keep things interesting. Take care, cowboy."

As Boothill turned to leave, he couldn’t help but feel an odd respect for you. You might not be what he expected, but in a way, you were just like him—fighting for your own cause, in your own way.

And maybe, just maybe, Boothill found a strange comfort in the chaos you created.

[relax-and-read-on]

I have not made made a generic hc post about the primarch in a LONG time. I miss it, and it's good for the warhammer tumblr ecosystem. So, without further waiting....

Primarch, and the absolutely shitty gifts they give each others for a White Elephants gift exchange

Roboute: A classic coffee mug (primarch sized!) Filled with sweets and a indestructible fancy fountain pen. The mug say "World Most Okay Dad" on it, and he joke that it apply to them all.

Lion: a stuffed bird. The number of eyes on it is vaguely unnerving. It's unclear wich way is the head suppose to go, and all agree that it's probably an awful mutant bird. Lion is too proud to admit that it's just a really shotty taxidermy he made himself.

Alpharius Omegon: They give a series of mysterious CD in blank case, wich is a very rare and hard to read format on most ship! It's the entire series of MLP:FiM, famous lost media in the 30th millenium.

Rogal: A thick, sturdy, and perfectly elegant multi bit screwdriver, with extra standard bits put in the handle. Give a proud presentation on it, explaining it's superior design and all it's ergonomic features. It's 45 min long.

Perturabo: it's a coupon that say "one (1) construction from me and my legion, free of complaining. Valid until the 31th millenium." It's the most popular gift of the night.

Corvus: slipper and kigurumi, all crow themed. They are *adorable*. Sadly, the size is a bit tight and vaguely indecent on the more muscular primarch.

Lorgar: a traditional colchian tea set, with hand dried craft teas! The set is beautiful, and the teas prove to be only mildly hallucinogenic.

Konrad: A very, VERY pretty embroidered set of throw pillow! They have delicate pattern of flower and nature imagery... And are made with human hair. Konrad is very proud of himself, and even more of the absolute bloody screaming his gift create when he explain it.

Sanguinius: put out by Konrad's gift, but he also made a pillow, but this one filled with his own feathers. Has surprising property against nightmare.

Vulkan: He was actually sweet, and brought homemade hot sauce, his mother's recipe! The problem is that the stuff is so strong, it's considered a dangerous chemical in most of the galaxy. Can be used as jet fuel.

Horus: Edible sexy underwear. Insist that whoever gets it has to wear it, and jokingly say that, if they are too shy, he can do a demonstration himself.

Mortarion: a succulent growing kit. Even his most dumbasses of brother should be able to keep a succulent alive, right? Doesn't mention that it's an highly invasive species that will colonise the entire ship of his poor victime.

Jaghatai: a foal. Yes, he carry a whole ass live animal to the gift exchange, and keep insisting that it's an appropriate gift. The horse is chewing on Magnus' hair.

Leman: Mad that he didn't think of bringing a puppy, but he has the most amazing looking collection of smoked salmon, caviar and preserved fish to offer.

Magnus: his patience is wearing thin, but he still offer a perfectly beautiful robe, that act as an honest to good mood ring and change color depending on the person's aura.

Fulgrim: A painting of himself! Wich is actually a joke, it's just a thin and hand painted decorative paper covering the true gift: a painting of all their family, together. Get called a try hard.

Ferrus: a collection of very pretty crystals and fossils! Wich he arranged in a chocolate box, and explain that those are his favorite flavors.

Angron: A punching bag that even *he* find durable. He made sure of it, by thoroughly testing it before giving it out, wich explain it's used appearance.

I know exactly who gets what..... Yall want to know in a part 2 ;)?

[lemonyinks]

PT. 7 of Drawing Legionnaires eyes: Luornu

plus the single colour versions

[redvexillum]

A/N: This story falls right between "One Moment," and "Choose Me." I have fully embraced the fact that I've written a mini arc in a series of three one shot for this universe.

SUMMARY: You didn’t mind that Vox spent the last Christmas with Valentino—it’s not like you were upset or anything. But this year, you’ve discovered something sweeter than holiday cheer: lollipops. And judging by the way Vox can’t take his eyes off you, they’re even better when used to stir up a little mischief.

TAGS/WARNINGS: f!reader, p in v, Mandatory Overtime AU, sunshine reader, teasing, oral sex

Vox swallowed hard, his throat dry despite the bitter tang of his coffee lingering on his tongue. You leaned over him, your body close enough for him to catch the faint, intoxicating trace of your perfume—a warm blend of vanilla and spice that made his chest tighten. Your eyes flicked across the report in his hands, lips softly parted as you read, the faint motion of your tongue rolling a candy back and forth catching his attention and refusing to let it go. 

He tried—truly, he tried—to focus on your words, but the way your lips glistened as they wrapped around that candy left him entranced. The slow, deliberate way you swallowed, savouring its sweetness, sent a jolt of heat straight to the front of his pants. His fists clenched against the armrests of his chair as he fought to rein in his spiralling thoughts. 

“Vox, what the fuck?” your voice cut through the haze, sharp and biting. 

He startled, nearly jumping out of his chair. “What?” His tone pitched higher than intended, betraying the tension simmering just below his polished demeanour. For a terrifying moment, he wondered if he’d let his thoughts slip aloud. 

You arched an eyebrow, your sarcasm dripping like molten iron. “Oh, I’m sorry, sir. What the fuck?” Waving the report in your hand, you began pacing his office, each step punctuated by the sharp click of your heels against the polished floor. 

He couldn’t help but follow your every move. The snug pencil skirt you wore hugged your curves, its modest slit revealing just enough of the garter strap beneath to make his mouth dry all over again. Your blouse, unbuttoned enough to tease but not quite reveal, showcased the sharp V of your décolletage. Every detail—every sway, every deliberate pause—commanded his full attention. 

Crossing his legs tightly, Vox clasped his hands together, desperately attempting to appear unbothered. But you weren’t making it easy. As you ranted about stolen shipments and fabricated numbers, your voice carried a fire that should’ve demanded his respect. Instead, it only added fuel to the inferno building inside him. 

If you weren’t so damn alluring—if you weren’t already tangled in his sheets on more nights than he cared to admit—he might’ve had the presence of mind to be offended. After all, he was the CEO of Hell’s most powerful enterprise, an Overlord feared by legions. Yet here you were, strutting around his office with an air of authority that made it seem as though you ruled not just his company, but him.

When you stopped abruptly, tossing the report carelessly over his desk, you then leaned forward, catching Vox's breath. Your lips were a perfect pout, your brows furrowed in frustration, and your eyes boring into his with an intensity that made his heart pound. 

“Well?” you demanded, your tone sharp but laced with the kind of intimacy that only came from knowing exactly how to push his buttons. 

He felt a stirring heat that was impossible to ignore. You leaned just close enough for him to feel the warmth of your breath, and for a fleeting moment, he wondered if you were doing this on purpose. 

Perhaps, in some twisted way, you really did own him. Not that he’d ever admit it aloud. 

It was infuriating how many shady dealings were slipping through the cracks, siphoning the company’s money right under everyone’s noses. Even the auditors were in on it—you were sure of it. The past 45 years of financial reports were riddled with suspicious dips and trends that only revealed themselves when scrutinized with a sharp, unrelenting gaze. Whoever was orchestrating this embezzlement thought they were clever, but the data told a different story. Numbers didn’t lie, and neither did your instincts. 

You had been breaking your back for this company, pouring your energy and sleepless nights into making sure everything ran perfectly. This empire, this colossal corporation, was Vox’s pride and joy, the very foundation of his identity. And for you? He was your everything. That fact alone kept you tethered, pushing yourself past every limit to prove your worth, not just to the company but to him. 

But now, just a week before Christmas, the ache in your chest wouldn’t let you ignore a different kind of frustration. Vox had told you where he’d be spending the holiday, and it was with the Vees, as he so often did for appearances. Like estranged parents negotiating custody of a child, you and Vox had fallen into an uneasy rhythm: alternating Christmases between each other and his business associates. 

Every other year, he tried to make time for you. But not every year. No, he couldn’t afford that luxury. He was going to spend two Christmases in a row with Valentino. In order to maintain his position as one of the most powerful overlords in Hell, he had to show the world that his alliances with the other Vees were unshakable. A united front kept the vultures circling his throne at bay. It was a matter of survival, of dominance—a game you understood but couldn’t help resenting. 

And yet, you were selfish. You wanted him to spend every Christmas with you. You had foolishly thought that throwing yourself into your work—proving your value to him—might win you more of his attention. But the glazed look in his eyes when you presented your findings told you otherwise. Your efforts were only exhausting him, pushing him further away. 

Then, something changed. The sound of your candy clicking against your teeth as you swirled it with your tongue drew his attention. His lips trembled faintly, and when you bent over to glare at him, you caught the flicker of his gaze drifting down, lingering on the curve of your cleavage. You didn’t miss the way his legs shifted, nor the unmistakable bulge pressing against the fabric of his tailored slacks. 

You froze mid-thought, a mix of incredulity and amusement washing over you. You’ve got to be kidding me, you thought, your lips curling into a sly smile. Maybe hard work wasn’t the key to his attention. Perhaps, instead of burning yourself out for his empire, you needed to tease him, to remind him of what you both had been denying during this so-called "cooling period." 

It was all an act, wasn’t it? This charade where Vox had to spend more time with Valentino, where Voxtek was a stage and everyone within it mere actors playing their roles to maintain the narrative. But even amidst the theatrics, your feelings remained agonizingly real. 

You realized it then—pathetically, achingly—that you would take scraps of his affection over nothing at all. No matter how much it hurt to love him like this, to be sidelined for power plays and public optics, you knew where your heart stood. 

Damn it all. 

Damn your weakness. 

If only falling out of love with him were easy. Maybe then you wouldn’t still be tethered to this ridiculous game, wouldn’t feel the constant ache that settled deep in your chest. It wasn’t sharp enough to command your attention outright, but it was always there—lingering, humming just beneath the surface, a persistent throb that refused to be ignored. 

But then you’d see him. That goofy grin lighting up his face, the faint flush creeping across his cheeks, and the way his dark eyes sparkled when you drew closer. He’d shift in his seat, his legs crossing tighter, as if that could possibly hide the growing evidence of his desire straining against his trousers. And damn it, amusement bloomed in you, warm and wicked. 

And with it came love. Unbidden, unwanted, but impossible to deny. 

So, like everything else in Hell, you coped. And damn, you were a champion at it. 

It had all started innocently enough. 

Whenever you visited Vox’s office, you’d absentmindedly bring a lollipop to occupy your lips as you briefed him on your reports. It was a harmless habit—or so you thought. But you quickly noticed how transparent Vox could be with his desire. Every time you rolled the candy from one side of your mouth to the other, his Adam’s apple would bob, and his legs would shift, crossing tighter in what was clearly a futile attempt at composure. 

You couldn’t help but wonder if he realized just how much you could see from where you stood. After all, while he sat in his grand chair, you stood above him, with a perfect vantage point of the telltale bulge pressing against his slacks. 

The sight filled you with a petty sense of vindication. After all, he was the one who’d decided on this ridiculous “chaste” period while he focused on strengthening ties with Valentino. He was the one who left you on this infuriating dry streak. And damn it, your wrist had paid the price—aching from nights spent pleasuring yourself alone, whispering his name into the empty room like some pathetic lovesick fool. 

What started as a bit of harmless mischief soon evolved into something far more deliberate. 

The next day, you let the lollipop drag slowly from your lips, its glossy surface glinting in the office’s dim light as you hummed thoughtfully. You made a show of running your tongue over it, gliding against its smooth, round surface in slow, purposeful strokes. You didn’t miss the way his breath hitched, his jaw tightening as his dark eyes flicked to your mouth. 

It was intoxicating to watch him unravel. 

His hands gripped the armrests of his chair as if that might anchor him, but you saw the faint tremor in his fingers. When your tongue swirled around the candy’s tip in a motion that mimicked the way you’d tease the head of his cock, his pupils dilated, and his legs shifted again, as if trying to hide what you already knew. 

You wouldn’t fold this time. No, if Vox wanted release, he could find it with Valentino. After all, wasn’t that the point of this charade? 

What had begun as a mild tease quickly spiralled into a full-blown war—a war of wills and lust, where neither of you would back down. 

Day by day, you escalated your efforts. You leaned a little closer when handing him papers, your blouse conveniently unbuttoned just enough to give him a tantalizing glimpse. You bent over his desk with purpose, knowing full well how his gaze would drop to the curve of your hips. And through it all, you savoured your lollipop as if it were the most indulgent, sensual thing in the world, your tongue dancing across its surface in ways you knew would drive him to the brink. 

If he wanted to play games, you’d make sure to win. And when he finally begged, you weren’t even sure if you’d give him the satisfaction. Perhaps you’d simply smile, press the lollipop between your lips, and leave him aching for more. 

Three days before Christmas, you arrived at Vox’s office with a new treat in hand—a long spiral rainbow candy stick, whimsically dubbed "unicorn candy." The bright, multicoloured confection was playful on the surface, but you had every intention of turning it into something far more provocative. At this point, there was no pretense, no attempt to feign innocence. You both knew exactly what game you were playing, and you were determined to win. 

“Y-you’ve been sucking—ahem, eating—a lot of lollipops lately, sunshine,” Vox stammered, his usual smooth demeanour cracking under the weight of his growing tension. His laugh was strained, and once again, his legs crossed tightly, an all-too-familiar gesture. 

“Hmmm,” you hummed softly, the sound lilting and indulgent. “I guess I’ve been craving something sweet for the holidays. Keeps my energy up with all this year-end work,” you said nonchalantly, your tone light as your tongue flicked out to trail along the candy’s length. 

The texture was delightful—each ridge and spiral of the rainbow candy caught on your tongue as you languidly dragged it up the length. A medley of tropical flavours burst across your taste buds: cherry, pineapple, grape, green apple, orange. It was unexpectedly delicious, and for a fleeting moment, you almost forgot you were toying with him. Almost. 

“Y-yeah, maybe I should, uh, get you something to suck on,” Vox muttered, his voice low and trembling as he clasped his hands tightly, pressing them against his knee to steady himself. 

“Oh?” you murmured, the word slipping out in a soft, sultry breath. Your eyes turned hooded, heavy with playful intent, as you tilted your head and let your tongue drag from the base of the candy to its pointed tip. The movement was languid, each inch of the candy coated in a slow, sensual glide. 

When you reached the end, your lips parted, and you engulfed the tip, drawing the candy deeper, inch by inch. The faint wet sound of your tongue and lips working echoed in the room, and Vox’s breath audibly hitched. 

“Anything you want, babydoll,” he rasped, the words drenched in both surrender and desire. Slowly, he uncrossed his legs, spreading them wide in a bold, almost territorial gesture. His arousal was blatantly obvious now, the thick bulge in his pants straining against the fabric as he leaned back in his chair like a king on his throne. His cocky grin returned, though his eyes betrayed the fire smouldering within. 

“Maybe… another one of these lollipops?” you teased, your lips curving into a wicked smile before you turned on your heel and left without another glance. You didn’t need to look back to imagine the way his expression twisted—shocked, aroused, and undoubtedly frustrated. 

The day before Christmas, you decided to take things to the next level. Vox had been calling and messaging you all day, but you ignored him, silencing your Vwatch and tucking it into your desk drawer. You knew his patience was wearing thin, and more than anything, you knew how much he hated being ignored. 

It was after hours, and your office was dark except for the soft glow of your desk lamp. You had one last trick up your sleeve, a final act to push him to his breaking point. From your bag, you pulled out a candy you’d picked up from a sex shop—a thick, sculpted piece moulded into the unmistakable shape of a cock. The translucent blue candy gave off the sharp, tangy scent of blue raspberry as you unwrapped it, the faint crinkle of plastic breaking the silence. 

You’d barely finished peeling off the wrapper when there was a sharp knock at your door—three quick, decisive raps. 

With a cheshire grin, you placed the candy between your lips and called out in a sing-song voice, “Come in.” 

The door to your office swung open with force, revealing Vox with his brows slanted down in fury. His lips parted, ready to unleash his frustration. “What’s wrong with your Vwa—” He froze mid-sentence, his dark gaze locking onto the candy in your hand and then trailing to your lips. His expression shifted, a mix of incredulity and exasperation. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” he muttered, the edge of a breathy laugh betraying his mounting frustration. 

You tilted your head, feigning innocence, even as the corners of your lips curled into a teasing smile. The heat of his gaze burned into you, and you could feel his restraint fraying by the second. 

All week, you’d been pushing him. A casual brush of your hand against his shoulder when you said goodbye, your fingers lingering just a moment too long. A deliberate lean against the hallway wall, directly in front of one of the security cameras, where you made a show of sucking and licking a lollipop. You wondered how many times he’d watched the playback, his fists clenched, jaw tight, and—if you were lucky—his hand drifting lower, succumbing to his desire you so carefully crafted. 

“Hm?” you hummed softly, pressing the tip of the cock-shaped candy against your lips, your eyes wide and falsely oblivious. “Yum!” you exclaimed, savouring the sharp tang of blue raspberry as you slowly wrapped your lips around the candy and let it glide between them. 

Vox’s hands clenched at his sides as he growled low in his throat, the sound rough and dangerous. “What game are you playing with me, babydoll?” His voice was a rumble, thick with barely contained desire as he shut the door firmly behind him. Each step he took toward you felt deliberate, measured, as though he were reining himself in by sheer force of will. 

He didn’t stop until he was towering over you, his presence oppressive and electrifying all at once. Without warning, his hand shot out and ripped the candy from your grasp. You barely resisted, your grin widening as you leaned back in your chair, looking up at him with shameless amusement. 

“Nothing,” you said airily, your tone saccharine sweet. “I just needed a little sugar boost to get through all this overtime on Christmas Eve.” 

Vox’s eyes bored into yours, searching, assessing, before his lips curled into a devilish grin of his own. “Yeah?” he murmured, his voice soft and dangerous. In one fluid motion, he pushed your chair away from the desk, his imposing frame looming over you. His arousal was evident now, straining against the fabric of his pants, the bulge unashamedly bold. 

“Go on, take your sugar hit, babydoll,” he purred, his voice a velvet command as he held the candy by his crotch, the implication as obvious as his growing smirk. 

You stifled a laugh, leaning forward until your palms pressed against his thighs. You felt the twitch of his cock through the fabric, the heat of him radiating against your fingertips. “I think the candy’s bigger,” you murmured with a wicked glint in your eyes. 

Vox inhaled sharply, his jaw tightening, but his glare was laced with something darker, more primal. He didn’t stop you as your tongue flicked out, teasing the tip of the candy before tracing languidly along its length. You worked the sweet with deliberate precision, your lips sliding over it inch by inch, your eyes never leaving his face. 

His gaze burned into you, his chest rising and falling in uneven breaths. Slowly, he rolled his hips, guiding the candy in and out, his movements precise and teasing. 

“Close your eyes, babydoll,” Vox whispered, his voice laced with mischief, his grin daring. 

You snorted softly, but complied, shutting your eyes with a playful roll. You heard the faint thud of the candy being discarded, followed by the unmistakable sound of his zipper sliding down. The tension in the room thickened, and then you felt it—hot and heavy, the velvety tip of his cock pressing against your bottom lip. 

“Go on,” he groaned, his voice rough and needy. “Keep sucking. Show me how much you adore your treat.” 

Your lips parted, the salty tang of him flooding your senses as your tongue darted out to taste him. “Hmm,” you hummed, your voice thick with amusement and arousal. “It tastes different, Vox.” 

He let out a low chuckle, but it turned into a sharp intake of breath as your tongue swirled over the sensitive head, teasing the underside with slow strokes. “Mhm,” you moaned softly, the vibrations sending a shiver through him as your lips curled into a smile. You pushed his foreskin back gently, your tongue exploring every inch of him with unhurried attention, relishing in every reaction, every hitch in his breath. 

And oh, did he respond. 

“Ah, fuck,” Vox groaned, his voice thick with desperation as he pushed his cock past your lips. His breath hitched, a guttural sound that resonated in the room. “All week,” he murmured, his tone both reverent and frustrated, “you’ve been sucking on that damn lollipop right in front of me.” He exhaled sharply, the weight of him pressing against your tongue, his cock brushing the sensitive ridges with every agonizing inch he slid deeper. “Fuck, look at you,” he rasped, his hand cradling the back of your head, “can’t get enough of sucking, huh?” 

He began to roll his hips, his movements fluid, plunging and withdrawing in a hypnotic rhythm. Each thrust made your lips tighten around him, creating a seal that drew a shiver from him. Your tongue worked him skilfully, tracing the veins along his shaft, savouring the salty, musky taste of him. 

When you looked up at him, his jaw tightened, and a wicked grin spread across his face. “Oh, fuck,” he growled, pressing your head down until your nose was flush against his hips, his cock filling your throat. “Look at you. Fucking perfect. Do you know how many times I’ve had to fuck my fist in the office because of you?” he murmured, his voice strained, his hips stuttering as he felt your throat tighten around him. 

You pulled back with a soft gasp, a thin line of saliva connecting your lips to his throbbing length. Rising from your chair, you reached beneath your skirt, slipping your thong down your legs. The fabric pooled at your ankles, and you stepped out of it slowly, your movements teasing. Vox’s eyes were locked on you, dark with hunger, as you motioned him toward your chair. 

He followed without hesitation, collapsing into the seat with his legs spread wide, his cock gleaming with your saliva. It twitched with anticipation, every pulse revealing his desperation. His eyes trailed up your body, lingering on the damp heat between your thighs as you hitched up your skirt. 

“Go on,” he growled, his voice rough, his chest heaving. “Wrap those pretty lips around me, babydoll.” 

You smirked, leaning forward to trace a finger down his chest. “That depends,” you purred, your voice dripping with saccharine mischief. “Did you get me anything for Christmas?” 

Vox groaned, the tension in his jaw evident as he watched you straddle his lap, your slick heat brushing against the tip of his cock. “Oh, fuck, doll,” he rasped, his hands twitching at his sides, aching to touch you. “Anything you want. It’s yours.” 

“Anything?” you whispered, leaning closer, your lips brushing the side of his bezel as a sharp grin spread across your face. 

“Any—ah!” His words turned into a guttural cry as you sank onto him in one fluid motion, taking him to the hilt. The stretch was intoxicating, every inch of him filling you completely, his cock pressing against places your fingers couldn't reach. 

Your head fell back, a sharp gasp escaping your lips as the heat of him overwhelmed you. His hands instinctively flew to your hips, but you caught his wrists, pinning them above his head. 

“Stay still,” you commanded, your voice low and sultry, your fingers tightening around his wrists. 

“Fuck, doll,” Vox groaned, his chest rising and falling with every ragged breath. He bucked his hips slowly, testing your restraint, dragging his cock out of you with agonizing precision before thrusting back in, his pace purposeful and calculated. 

“You want to ride me like this?” he asked, his voice hoarse, his crimson eyes meeting yours with an intensity that made your breath catch. 

“Yes,” you moaned, your hips rolling in slow, tantalizing circles. The slick heat between your thighs grew with every movement, every stroke sending sparks of pleasure rippling through you. You gripped his wrists tighter, enjoying the way he strained against your hold, his body desperate to take control but choosing to be at your mercy. 

Vox groaned, his lips parting as he watched you, utterly enthralled. “Fuck,” he whispered, his hips meeting yours with deeper, harder thrusts, “you feel so fucking good. Let me—” 

“Not yet,” you interrupted, your voice a breathy command as you leaned down, your lips brushing against his lips. “I’m not done with you.” 

The tension that had simmered for days finally erupted, and the small office was filled with the sounds of desperate moans as the dam of frustration broke. Vox’s thrusts grew frenzied, each one deeper and harder than the last, his hips slamming against you with reckless abandon. The sharp, wet slaps of skin against skin echoed, punctuated by his low, guttural growls and your breathy cries. Every movement sent jolts of pleasure through you, his cock filling you completely, hitting spots that left you trembling. 

But it wasn’t enough. You needed more. You needed to fall first, to shatter in his arms before he could. 

Bracing one hand behind you on his knee for balance, you brought your other hand down between your thighs. Your fingers, slick with your own arousal and the heat of the moment, found your swollen clit. You rubbed in tight circles, matching the rhythm of his relentless thrusts. Each touch sent sparks of electric heat coursing through your body, pushing you closer to the edge. 

“Fuck, that’s so hot,” Vox groaned, his voice gravelly and filled with awe. His eyes never left you, dark and hungry, watching every movement. “Is this how you want me to fuck you, baby? Just like this?” 

“Yes!” you gasped, your voice breaking as pleasure began to consume you. “Yes, baby, just like this. Don’t stop. Don’t you fucking stop.” 

The coil in your stomach wound tighter and tighter, the tension almost unbearable. Your muscles quivered, your breathing ragged and uneven. Your thighs trembled as his cock pounded into you, the friction sending shockwaves of pleasure straight to your core. 

“Cum, baby,” Vox growled, his hands gripping your waist as he drove into you with unrelenting force. “Let me feel you. Cum for me. I want to see you fall apart.” 

His words were your undoing. The coil snapped, and the world fell away as euphoria crashed over you. Your walls clenched around him, pulsing and fluttering in rhythm with the waves of your orgasm. A scream tore from your lips, raw and unrestrained, as your body shuddered uncontrollably. Vox’s strong hands caught you as you collapsed forward, your strength momentarily gone, your chest heaving against his. 

He slowed his movements, basking in the way you trembled and contracted around him, a satisfied smirk curling his lips as he watched you come undone. His cock throbbed inside you, the heat of him still buried deep as he held you close, his breathing just as heavy as yours. 

“Vox, baby?” you whispered, your voice soft and breathless, your head lolling against his shoulder. 

“Yeah?” he murmured, his tone low and husky, his hands caressing your back as if grounding you. 

“You said I could have anything, right?” You leaned back slightly, your fingers lightly grazing the edge of his TV-shaped head, the soft glow of his screen reflecting in your eyes. 

“That’s right,” he rumbled as he slowly began to roll his hips, thrusting deeply into you. “Name it, doll, and it’s yours.” 

A slow smile spread across your lips, playful and teasing. “I want ornaments,” you whispered, your voice laced with sweet mischief. 

For a moment, Vox blinked, and his hips stuttered to a halt, the tension in his face melting into something utterly baffled. “Ornaments?” 

You couldn’t help the soft laugh that bubbled up, your fingers tracing a pattern along his screen as your body settled into his. Moments like these, where he promised you the world with husky words and the unspoken weight of emotions too vast to name, left you breathless. Yet, they always carried the bittersweet edge of reality, a fine print neither of you could escape. 

“Yup, the bluest of them all,” you said, your voice sweet and sharp like shattered glass. Before Vox could react, you pushed off his lap, his aching, needy cock slipping from your warmth. The cool air hit your thighs, slick with the evidence of your release, but you didn’t falter. Standing to your full height, you smoothed down your skirt, your hands trembling only slightly. 

“A blue ball,” you continued, the edge in your grin cutting deeper than any knife, “more precisely.” 

“What—?” Vox froze, his screen flickering faintly as his system lagged, trying to process what had just happened. 

You tilted your head, feigning innocence as you leaned closer, your voice a dagger cloaked in silk. “Just like you said, Vox. We’re in our ‘cooling period,’ right?” You gave him a wink, the gesture as playful as it was cruel. 

Taking a step back, you added with a smirk that didn’t quite reach your eyes, “Maybe Valentino can help you finish up.” Another step, your heels clicking against the floor like the ticking of a clock. “After all, this Christmas, you’re spending time with him, aren’t you?” 

The words hung in the air like a noose, tightening with every passing second. 

Vox didn’t speak. He couldn’t. A flicker of emotions crossed his features—hurt, guilt, shame—all laid bare, unguarded. His usual smooth facade cracked, and for once, he had no quick remark, no clever retort. 

You wanted to laugh. God, you wanted to laugh. But it lodged in your throat, sharp and bitter, like a bone you couldn’t swallow. 

He was the one who had said it, after all. That the two of you needed space. A cooling-off period, as if your feelings were something to compartmentalize, to lock away until convenient. He didn’t want Valentino to find out. Couldn’t risk the nature of your relationship being exposed. 

Because to the world, to Valentino, to everyone… 

You were nothing. 

A secret. 

A stain on his perfectly pressed, polished life. 

The realization settled in your chest like a stone, heavy and suffocating. Yet, despite knowing this, you’d still allowed yourself to hope. To play along. To tease him, laugh with him, spend stolen moments in his arms. 

You loved him. 

God help you, you loved him. 

And that’s what made it hurt the most. 

You weren’t a good person, and neither was he. That was the truth of it—the ugly, undeniable truth. Yet, there was a twisted beauty in the misery, a strange allure to being scum, fractured, broken, and unhealthy. In a place like this, where two murky, tainted souls could mingle and burn together in eternal damnation, wasn’t that, in its own way, a kind of love? 

Even knowing that, you still danced. To the lies, the omissions, the hurt. Because this wasn’t a fairy tale, and love—real love, especially in Hell—was never clean or simple. It was raw and jagged, multifaceted like a rough gem embedded in stone, each angle catching shards of light and shadows alike. 

But it was still your life to live. Your choices to make and stand by, no matter how painful they were. That was the only truth you could cling to. 

And so, you kept choosing him. Time and again, despite everything. Because deep down, beneath the bitterness and bruises, you clung to the hope of a future for him. For both of you. In this hopeless, burning wasteland, wasn’t that a kind of rebellion? 

How laughably, pathetically human of you. 

“Merry Christmas, Vox, perhaps next year,” you whispered softly, your voice trembling with everything you couldn’t bring yourself to say. Then you turned on your heel, the echo of your steps slicing through the thick silence – your movements mirroring last Christmas with him, except this time, the roles were reversed.  

Behind you, he remained frozen, his mouth half-open, his digital eyes flickering with a storm of emotions. Hurt. Guilt. Longing. You could feel it, the weight of his unspoken words, the pull of his regret. 

He knew what he needed to do to make you stay. 

But he didn’t move. 

He...wouldn't, would he?

And that was, perhaps, the greatest tragedy of all. 

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[darrisgrove]

The Eye of the Wheel NOTES

-"Why did you have to keep doing something just because it had always been done that way?"

-Ravens chapter done. I never knew reading about village life, sheering sheep, and carrying water to and from a river would be so interesting.

-Shai'tan sounds kind of like Satan.

-"As the Wheel of Time turns, places wear many names. Men wear many names, many faces. Different faces, but always the same man. Yet no one knows the great Pattern the Wheel weaves, or even the Pattern of an Age. We can only watch, and study, and hope."

"In wars, boy, fools kill other fools for foolish causes."

-"The Wheel weaves as the Wheel wills."

-What happened to Tam is gonna make me cry.

-It's really scary to think that the boys wanted to go find trollocs when they were kids know that we know what trollocs can really do. Those boys would never have made it back alive had they actually gone.

-Gods I love Thom. I'm sure he's not a major character, but I have enjoyed his appearance since the moment he arrived.

-Are Paet al'Caar and Aemon al Caar al Thorin related?

-Moiraine dropping the fact that they will be running and hiding for the rest of their short lives was kind of a slap in the face. And they had no reaction to it at all.

-The rats died with broken backs. That's a fun nod.

-Images seen around the characters by Min: Lan: 7 ruined towers around his head, a baby in a cradle holding a sword. Thom: a man, not him, juggling fire, a white tower. Perrin: a wolf, a broken crown, flowering trees. Mat: a red eagle, an eye on a balancing scale, a dagger with a ruby, a horn, and a laughing face. Rand: a sword that isn't a sword, a golden crown of laurel leaves, a beggar's staff, pouring water on sand, a bloody hand and a white hot iron, three women standing over a funeral bier with him on it, black rock wet with blood, lighting around him both striking him or coming out of him.

-I like Thom :)

-Shadar Logoth.

[amarmoria]

Love and Legion│Act Ⅰ

Summary: 𝑳𝒖𝒄𝒊𝒍𝒍𝒂 𝑨𝒖𝒓𝒆𝒍𝒊𝒖𝒔 adopted you almost 14 years ago, after a catastrophic invasion of your country from the two tyrannic Twin Emperors of Rome, only just two years after sending her son away, she can't help but feel pity and guilt at a little child who was just a years younger than her son should've been right now and in an indisputable argument with some of the senators, she successfully stole you away from the hands of your unknown parents.

Lucilla meets her beloved husband and courageous General, 𝑴𝒂𝒓𝒄𝒖𝒔 𝑨𝒄𝒂𝒄𝒊𝒖𝒔 many years later, and marries him in hopes of finding protection and love she once seeked in another-- and she did of course. Only a few years later when tensions began brewing between you and your beloved 𝑺𝒕𝒆𝒑-𝑭𝒂𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓, a tension that should not and should've never existed in the first place.

And even more chaos prevails when 𝑯𝒂𝒏𝒏𝒐, a Gladiator brought by the war catches your mother's undivided attention. You don't know why she's so interested in some vicious gladiator until you confronted him to cure the growing dislike h̶a̶t̶r̶e̶d̶ you have towards him.

𝑨 𝑺𝒕𝒆𝒑-𝑭𝒂𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝑴𝒂𝒓𝒄𝒖𝒔 𝑨𝒄𝒂𝒄𝒊𝒖𝒔 𝒙 𝑹𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓 𝒙 𝑳𝒖𝒄𝒊𝒖𝒔 '𝑯𝒂𝒏𝒏𝒐' 𝑽𝒆𝒓𝒖𝒔 𝑨𝒖𝒓𝒆𝒍𝒊𝒖𝒔 𝐹𝑖𝑐

➪ 𝘿𝙊𝙉'𝙏 𝘓𝘪𝘬𝘦, 𝘿𝙊𝙉'𝙏 𝘙𝘦𝘢𝘥 𝘗𝘰𝘭𝘪𝘤𝘺.

➪ 𝘛𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘧𝘢𝘯𝘧𝘪𝘤 𝘪𝘴 𝙁𝙞𝙘𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣𝙖𝙡, 𝙉𝙊𝙏 𝙍𝙚𝙖𝙡, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘥𝘦𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘪𝘵𝘦𝘭𝘺 𝙉𝙊𝙏 𝙚𝙣𝙘𝙤𝙪𝙧𝙖𝙜𝙚𝙙 𝘪𝘯 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘭 𝘭𝘪𝘧𝘦.

➪ 𝙉𝙊𝙉𝙀 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘦, 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵𝘧𝘶𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘣𝘦𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘎𝘭𝘢𝘥𝘪𝘢𝘵𝘰𝘳 1 𝘢𝘯𝘥 2.

➪ 𝘌𝘯𝘨𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘩 𝘪𝘴 𝙣𝙤𝙩 𝘮𝘺 𝘧𝘪𝘳𝘴𝘵 𝘭𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘶𝘢𝘨𝘦. 𝘍𝘰𝘳𝘨𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘮𝘦 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘢𝘯𝘺 𝘨𝘳𝘢𝘮𝘮𝘢𝘳 𝘮𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘬𝘦𝘴.

Series Masterlist

Realm's Delight the poets willed you, just not long after Lucilla rescued you from near death. Despite the hushed whispers of resistance, no one dared to speak up against the Princess of Rome. And not long after she brought you back, the people were singing and celebrating outside your home, holding festivals and carnivals.

And of course, the twin emperor's annual gladiator pit was a way of celebrating your new 'birth' as the 2nd princess of Rome, though the title was quickly obliterated and made it as it is now.

Over time, the twin emperors grew fond of you and dubbed you as Emperor Geta's 'Dundus', which your mother was greatly offended, but chose to keep mute on the subject, not wanting to anger the two.

Your mother always dresses you in the most grand gowns. Never would one catch you dead in a garment made of wool or linen, gods let them see you or Lucilla will be their end. You had maids assist you everywhere you go, not like your mother lets you go out when you were 8 of years, but when you do, there were not less than 6 of them hovering around you, much less than your Equites (knights), if you think the maids were suffocating, how much more was your battalion of hundreds, exaggerated obviously, but it was how it looked like in your eyes before.

Your magistra, or they also call it teacher, was your mother’s when she was a child, she didn't trust anyone outside to teach and govern her only daughter, so it was her until you grew old enough to have her removed.

And as trees withered, you grew, the young girl hiding behind her mother's skirt has departed but not forgotten, for people would always remember her, like your very first name day, though it was the 6th name day in your honor, everyone had gathered in your mother's gardens while you stuck yourself in her bosom the whole time, you would not leave her until they all left for their beds.

She laughed the whole night, maybe even now if you would remind her. She told you she loved you not any less than her son. The older maids told you when you pestered them that the princess has never been this happy in those 2 years she 'lost' her son. Of the cause of losing her son, they did not speak. Others say that he was assassinated the night following Maximus' death. But every maid and knight tell other tales, or many of such tales, each differs from the other, so you learned not to listen to their story of theories.

"My lady," your focus broke as a voice cut through your thoughts. "Huh— what?"

"Ah, the silk, my lady. Might I inquire as to the color that would best please you?" 

You give your maid a smile before leaning in the stall to browse the silk sheets. "Hm,"

"I do like that one," you point to the baby blues, then your eyes get caught on the burgundy. 

"Oh, how splendid this shade of red appears! Truly, it is a vision of beauty." Your other maid sang, and all the others nodded and agreed. "Very well. We shall take the burgundy, the baby blue, the pink, and the purple adorned with gold, if you please. My thanks."

You were about to reach for your money when the maid pulled out a bag of coins that was clearly from your mother and handed the merchant the payment.

"Thank you, Aemma. " You bowed your head slightly in her direction, even though you obviously didn't need your mother's money. Aemma had been your maid since your mother took you in. Only being a teen when she was hired, she quickly gained your favor and your mother's. The both of you grew up together and your friendship remained steadfast throughout the years.

"Shall that be all, Princess?" The merchant says, handing your maids the boxes of silk. "It is. I bid you good morrow," you bow and smile. You wait until the maids situated themselves with the boxes before you continue to stroll farther down the market.

You pull the hood of your cloak over your head, shielding your eyes from the scorching sun. You opted to wear a lighter and thinner fabric than you usually use because of the heat that's been torturing Rome for a while now; you wonder if someone angered the sun god for Rome to suffer like this.

You sigh as you fan yourself harder. Your gaze falls on the structure, its gigantic walls impossible to ignore. The Colosseum. Every day, gladiators from every corner of the world fight there, a place you’ve been wanting to visit but have been strictly off-limits, thanks to your mother and Acacius. 

Every one of your friends had already watched a gladiator fight once while you didn't even get to step near it, a curse or a blessing?

A—

"..Bullshit," 

You hear your maid's gasp behind you, except Aemma, for she's already used to you. Your hood fell from your head, exposing you to the heat, but you did not pay care, your focus remained on the grand Colosseum, towering and timeless, there was a time where man didn't even know how to make a fire, and now you stood in front of its arches, carved by centuries of wind and whispers.

"My lady?" You snapped out of your reverie, turning your head over your shoulder to look behind you.

"Are you coming?" A knight says. You looked back to the colosseum, then back to your maids and knights.

Your shoulders sagged as you turned your back and departed, disappointment etched in your every step.

"Let's go." You murmured, they followed behind you as you dejectedly turned in the direction of your house. But just before you could take another step, Aemma pipes up.

"Ah! The General returns home this day, my lady."

𓃗

You dressed yourself for bed, the not so sheer fabric sliding across your body as you yawned for the umpteenth time of the day. You're just so bored these days, even shopping does not entertain you no longer. 

He's coming today though. The thought gave that spark in your eyes. You won't be so bored anymore, just watching him entertains you, but isn't that his role though? To entertain the emperors in their futile attempts at making Rome great again, you wonder why he tolerates their company. You can clearly see the disgust on his face whenever they say something.

You sat on your vanity, lighting the candles one by one. Then you took your hair out of its style, carefully removing the ties and clips embroidered in by your mother, then untangling the knots. You let your hair free for the night as your arms stretched up. Maybe today's shopping did tire you, but still it did not amuse you.

You took tentative steps towards the door, softly opening it and closing when you got out. Then you jogged quietly to the sitting room, careful not to wake Aemma, or she'd be obliged to stay with you until you slumbered.

You sat down on the sofa and waited for the time to pass. The hours seemed to stretch on like an endless, quiet hum in the background. You played with the board game, then read a book to which you abandoned after almost falling asleep. You peeked out the window yet again, but still no sign of him.

You let out a small sigh, shifting uncomfortably on the soft sofa, your mind wondering at the patterns in the room. You grew bored enough that you started pacing circles around the low table.

You don't know how much time had already passed as you were already fast asleep on the couch, your hands under your chin supporting it, your mouth wide open as you drooled on the pillow.

You only heard the gates creaking open, and the sound of hooves running in, but you were too tired and weepy to even open your eyes that you succumbed to slumber. Then you heard his heavy footsteps approaching you. The deep rumble of his voice as he spoke of something you didn't make out. One second there were voices and another you were in the air, hands secured under your neck and knees, lifting you up. He didn't even grunt or struggle, like you were something inanimate.

"..amor.. here.. go," you frowned, but remained still, not like you could wake up. You could only hear a few words, barely clear, and that was it all before you completely slept in the darkness.

𓃗

"He called it, The Dream of Rome,"

"Dream of Rome?" 

"Yes, where good people rule instead of the big, bad people."

"Wow! I want that too! I want to build the biggest statue of you and I'm, I'm gonna put mine beside it! I'm gonna make sure that all the people in the world are rich! A-and I’m gonna give the money to the people outside too!”

"Me too, Carissima"  Lucilla kisses your head. "Me too."

𓃗

"No, I heard the emperors are to host a private gathering later, where two gladiators shall fight for their amusement!"

"What, truly? Ye cannae be speakin' in jest! I’m certainly goin’ to see this for meself!"

You rolled your eyes, eyeing your unfinished bitter tea. 

You woke up with a start earlier, your hair disheveled and dried drool on your chin. Your memory was hazy from last night, but you definitely don't remember sleeping in your room, and you surely don't sleepwalk, do you?

"Lady Aurelius~!" You snapped from your thoughts when you heard that bitchy voice beside your ear. 

"What." You say. Clenching your jaw as you gripped the teacup. "Coming with us later, or are you going to chicken out again?"

You grip the teacup till your knuckles almost turn white as their shrilling laughs reach your ears. You absolutely don't 'chicken out', you scoff. It's just that your mother doesn't like you wandering off and risking yourself getting in harm's way.

But you certainly don't chicken out, no way, and you're undoubtedly not going to ruin a quarter of your reputation to these degenerates.

".. I shall go." You wince as they jump off their seats, clapping and howling as they excitedly 'plan' the escape. Most of the parents of your friends have not less than the rank of patricians and nobles, so they are also on high prison level monitoring, but yours was the highest in the friend group, if you can even call it that.

"Okay, sae this is gaun'ae be our final plan fo later, we must arrive in this designated place after 4 hours sharp, enouch time for ye tae escape, got it??"

"Sir yes sir!"

"Aye!"

"Let's go battalion!"

𓃗

"I shall catch up on my rest. Please, do not disturb me!" You yelled, making sure it echoes around the place so it reaches everyone. 

You exhale in a short, hurried breath, dusting your disguise as you turn your head to Aemma, who dressed up as you.

"M-my lady, this far is t-too dangerous, my lady will have my head—"

"Fear not, Aemma. I shall return here you can even blink." 

"But my lady—"

Without letting her finish, you stood on the edge of the window, gripping the blanket you tied together into a makeshift rope tightly. A thick blob of sweat slid down your forehead, your breath hitched at your chest as you tried to steady yourself.

There isn't going back, anyway.

And for the last time before you violate the very thing your mother was so strict about, you glanced over your shoulder at your maid; she was dressed in your most expensive gown, her hair hidden beneath the veil you gave her. While you were dressed in her daily attire as a maid, the both of you switched closets just after you had convinced her for nearly an hour. You can tell she wants to stop you, but who was she to do that? 

And turning your face to her, you clutched the blanket tightly in your two hands, it's fabric rough under your fingers, slowly, you lowered yourself, feeling the fabric tug at your hands as you began to slide down, the rope beneath you swaying from side to side, you held your breath trying to discern if your mother heard, after a few seconds of nothing, you continued your venture. 

Your hands were beginning to hurt and turn red from the rope, but you're too far ahead to back out, so you quickly doubled your speed and not long after your feet finally hit the ground. You celebrated internally, huffing and puffing with your hands on your knees.

You looked up to see Aemma looking relieved, you smiled and waved at her, to which she returned and shooed you away.

She mouthed you the word hurry before you quietly ran for the gates.

Good thing you weren't that tired tonight or you would've given up running halfway across the yard. Another thing, though, was the gate. If you open it and it makes that loud shrieking sound, you're dead. 

You frowned and looked around, trying to think of something, anything. You were almost out of wits when you spotted a huge stone just beside the wall.

Thank the Gods.

You let out a deep sigh of relief, your shoulders slumping from the tension escaping your body. You almost thought you had to go back and just accept death, but good thing the Gods were with you.

You jogged to where it was, the rock was slippery, but enough for you to stand on, you just have to grip the wall and jump over.

You groaned as you lifted yourself from the rock, holding onto the wall like your life depended on it. After regenerating your lungs, you swung your right leg over the wall, then pulled yourself up to sit on the wall, then you swung your other leg over, and like sitting on a tall chair, you hopped off the wall.

Your landing on the ground felt so good your knees gave out and you landed on a soft patch of grass. Beads of sweat filled your forehead, and you wheezed, panting heavily.

But you have to hurry. The other set of guards were already arriving in minutes after a small break from their shift. You looked up at the sun. 10 minutes.

Enough time for you to run out of the estate.

You took a deep breath and pushed yourself off the ground, your legs pumping into motion. Then you took off, your legs pumping as soon as you took your second step, the air was cool, but speed quickly warmed you up, you were sweating almost everywhere, but you couldn't stop, the rhythm of your breath matched the beating of your heart. 

In the next few moments, you could hear your heart beating from everywhere across your body, the sound of your feet hitting the ground, and the weight of seconds passing by. 

Every step was sharper, harder. You swore the ground almost shook. The clock in your mind ticked down, 10 minutes—you could make it. Your muscles burned, but you didn't slow down, obviously.

And finally, you reached the bustling market of the main city. You guys were supposed to meet up behind the bank. You frowned and looked around. With all these people, it would take you half a year to get to it.

Your eyes scanned around until you found the enormous building up ahead. You were just about to jog to the back when you felt a sharp push on your shoulder from behind. The unexpected jolt threw you off balance for a moment, and you stumbled slightly before catching yourself. Whipping around, you saw who had bumped into you, a mix of surprise and annoyance flashing across your face.

That was before you realized it was a knight of high status, much like your knights but this one was bigger, more bulked. He scowled in your direction, you quickly siddled backwards, he was beside a carriage with a cage behind it. It was withered and old and rusty. You had expected an animal or maybe food for delivery inside, something small, easily handled. But what surprised you was something much bigger. There, sitting on a wooden, worn bench, was a man. His arms rested on his knees, and his head hung low, as though in silent prayer. You blinked, trying to make sense of the strange sight. Your gaze lingered a moment too long, and suddenly, as if he felt your stare, his head shot up. His bright blue eyes locked with yours, and your breath caught in your throat.

Your eyes widened in shock, but his expression remained unreadable, unblinking, as though this moment was nothing new to him. His glare burned holes right through the back of your head. You willed yourself to look away from the man, his gaze overwhelming.

You were roused from your thoughts when another guy in armour knocked into you, sending you stumbling backwards yet again.

"Fucking—" he hisses, brushing off his armour. "Move aside, whore." He spits on the ground near your foot.

You gasped and involuntarily stepped back in shock. Whore?! You are not a whore! You've never even kissed someone! Much less go whoring around!

You clenched your jaw. "Excuse me but I am not a whore mister."

He halts his movements. "Big mouth for slut like you huh? Bet you could fit the whole of Rome in there," he snorts, his laugh ugly to the ears. 

"I beg your pardon—" The slap landed hard on your face, you clutched your cheek and winced as it stings from the touch of your hand. 

"Tch, that's what screaming whores get from me. Now move aside, harlot"

A shakey breath disguised as a scoff escapes from your mouth, both your hands clutching your tender cheek. 

What you didn’t notice was the piercing gaze of the man, unwavering and fixed on you as the scene played out in front of him.

𓃗

"Oh—! Good gods! We've been standing around for ages waiting for you!"

You pant, your cheek still tender but less puffy and red. "M-my apologies. I had—"

"There is no time for such nonsense; let us proceed!"

You exhaled heavily as they ushered you to hurry behind them. 

"Ugh, I'm so focking excited!" Squealed the girl beside you. 

"Shut your pie hole, Alyssa! Should we be discovered due to your loose tongue, I shall your arse once and for all!" The ginger in front of you whispered. If you weren't so distracted by what happened earlier you would've laughed at them and their antics, they always were bickering like children ever since you met them, but honestly, as the only children of their respective families and being cousins wasn't so shocking when they would clash their heads off.

Not long after, you finally arrived at the 'party'. But the party was certainly... Unique.

There were these almost naked exotic dancers on poles. They wore thick and clumpy makeup but still made it look good. Their attire was.. quirky, resembling a jester but the fabric was of silk which was very expensive.

Then there were tigers chained to the walls in cages as people gaped and checked them out.

Almost everyone was wearing masks, except the servants, and of course the emperors, they were cheering and howling loudly as they conversed with their... Escorts.

You cringe inwardly, shuddering in repulsion as one of them licks Emperor Geta's neck.

"Oh. My. Word!" your friend behind you whispers. "Indeed! This is truly extraordinary! I find it most delightful!”

"I have never attended a gathering of this nature!”

It was said the two emperors would often engage in.. unconventional parties. One of those was this. 

No one would say anything more in front of you but you heard they did things here, in an unusual but particular way, but you didn't understand what they meant until this. Maybe they meant how wild the guests and the party were?

"Look! Look! It's starting!" Your friend exclaimed, tapping your shoulder as she pointed at the center of the room.

A hush fell over the crowd and a man with gold crowns and green robes entered.

"My emperors! Ladies and gentlemen! And senators," he bows dramatically, whipping his head down as his hands stretch outwards to the side. Then he flicks his head up like he had hair, then proceeds strutting around the center.

"For your entertainment," he pauses, looking around proudly like he owned the crowd. "The art.. of combat!"

The crowd gasps in awe, as well as your friends, who murmured in astonishment. 

"May I present— The Barbarian..." Your gaze is immediately fixed on the man as he enters the room, though you could not see him clearly as you were at the very back of the crowd, the people were towering over one another as they wrestled for a look at the barbarian. Moments later the crowd erupted into a flood of cheers and claps.

"What's happening?" You whispered to your friend, who was also busy hollering. 

Alyssa, who was nearer to you, replied. "The barbarian and the renowned warrior are about to engage in combat!"

You bit your lip and stood on your toes to get a better view of the fight, but as you do, so did the others, so now you're stuck in an endless domino effect with the greedy people in front of you.

"I— can't see—" you choked out. It was getting real tight in the back when you started hearing the punches and grunts. 

"Oh! Goodness!" Alyssa gasped. "What is it? What is it?"

"He just shattered that precious vase upon the other man’s head as though it were of no consequence!"

"How would you know it is of such value?"

"Pray, it is simple! My mother owns one as well! The artisan crafted but fifty of them in all the world!"

Each blow and strike sent the crowd into a frenzy of gasps and hollers, their excitement building with every move. 

Seconds later you hear a thud echoing around the room, you see a pillar from afar slightly shaken. And not long after a loud bang was heard across the room, the crowd gasped, either at shock or amusement, or both.

But you, on the other hand, just did not feel it. You came all this way and struggled for what seemed like so long, violated your mother, and you couldn't even see what you battled for.

The audience clapped for what you assume was the winner, then the sound of a sword clattering on the ground.

"Remarkable! Remarkable!" You hear Geta clap. 

As the emperor began walking to the winner, the crowd began pushing and pulling in front of you, wanting to take witness to the event transpiring, and so it results in you getting pushed away and abruptly separated from the rest of your friends, you tried gripping the hood of the one nearest to you only for your arm to be swatted away by some bystander.

"H-hey! Guys!" You yelled, but the crowd was too loud and they were too distracted to take notice that you were already drifting away from them.

"Stop!" You clutch the hood of your cloak, careful not to reveal yourself as the crowd pressed in around you, constantly shoving and bumping as they moved, making it hard to stay balanced.

"Guys I'm here!" You yell yet again, but tour attempts are futile when the crowd easily overpowers your voice of alarm.

Mere moments after you're struggling when the crowd pops you out of them, finally getting the chance to breathe without smelling their uncured body odors.

And just as you thought you were free, a firm grip seized your arm, yanking you to the side before you could react. 

"W-what! Stop! Help mmphm!" Your eyes widened as you were met by a knight, one with the same armour as the guy who called you a whore but it wasn't him, he was bald and the knight holding you now wasn't.

"Are you a servant in this establishment?" His gruff voice says. "W-what? No, certainly not—!"

And before you get a chance to speak, he drags you with him deeper into the hallway. You pulled and tugged on your arm from his deadly tight grip, but no matter how hard you did, he didn't budge.

While you kept writhing and struggling beside him, you already arrived in a room, he yanked the door open, impatient to get in, your eyes flicker to the jail-like door which his other companion opened with a key, once it was open, he dragged you inside a bathroom like room, complete with a tub, sink and toilet.

Then your eyes fixed on a man in the gigantic tub. He also seemed surprised at the commotion when his eyes opened sharply, scanning his surroundings and finally landing on you.

"Do your job, whore," the knight grumbles. You yelped as he shoved you on the ground, your hands slipping on the wet floor and just falling on your face. 

"This is preposterous!" You yelled, groaning as you held your nose. You felt a trickle of liquid down your nose, your eyes widened as you saw the blood dripping on the floor.

"My n-nose!" You pushed yourself from the floor, your hood sliding off your head. "Urgh,"

"Who goes there?" You hear the man say, a low grumble in his voice. "Do not inquire of me, for I am the one cast into this place!"

You rolled your eyes as you turned to look at him. You looked up and stilled, the blood still dripping down your nose. 

He's the barbarian? You were locked in a staring contest with the barbarian, his glare unwavering while yours were shaking. 

"Y-you're.." your mouth opens in shock while still clutching your nose.

"I'm what?" His eyebrow raises up. "You're, the, b-bar—"

"Barbarian?" He scoffs but says nothing further, flicking the coins on the tub to the ground.

You huff. "Tch, rude.."

"What'd you say?" He tilts his head upward, not sparing a glance at you. "I said get me out of here."

"Pray, tell me, why would I do such a thing?"

"B-because—!," you shoot him your best glare, hoping he'd follow, but a deep, rumbling chuckle echoed from his chest, a sound that seemed to vibrate the air with a dark, almost animalistic undertone. 

It wasn’t the kind of laugh that invited warmth or joy—rather, it was low and menacing, like the growl of a predator stalking its prey. The sound felt heavy, as though it carried the weight of something far more dangerous lurking just beneath the surface.

"Very well, Your Highness. What benefit would it bring me to set you free?" He spoke coldly. "Hm? Did the man not give you a direct command to perform your duties, or was that only me?"

You scowl, jaw clenching over your growing irritation.

"Release me, I implore you." You grit your teeth. But still, he didn't budge, ignoring you completely.

What the fuck is his problem. It was already noon and your mother might've already sent Acacius's battalion to find you.

[hedwig221b]

Hedwig!! I love your fics so much, no one else does Sterek like you🤞

This is so random but I’ve been craving some outsider POV fics of you have any recommendations:)

P.S. I love Eros Mania Amor and it definitely inspired this request lol

Hi! Thank you so much! 💗 Here are some of my faves:

Oblivious Misadventures, and Other Such Tales by Little Spoon (JaydenNara)

Going to college was exciting and new, a chance for new friends and a fresh start, and the best part was, there was a supernatural fraternity on campus, meaning Scott finally had the freedom to be himself.

Then he met the resident human who came with a stalker alpha. What was the point of a supernatural fraternity if he still had to pretend to be human. And seriously, did Stiles ever fall asleep somewhere normal?

the demon slayer by the_problem_with_stardust

Jaz sighs, leaning back against her alpha. “They’re going to tear us apart.”

“No they won’t. Alpha Hale is an honorable man.” Maria presses a wry smile into her mate's neck. “It’s literally the only thing every other pack we’ve met with has agreed on.”

“But his Emissary…” Jaz swallows hard, trying not to think of the stories they’ve heard. Stories of a man who banished a legion of demons to hell, using only the force of his will.

A Spotter's Guide to the North American Werewolf Hunter by wearingthelilac

Dealing with a hunter roommate was not covered in the student handbook.

Or the one where Stiles' college roommate is a werewolf and thinks Stiles is a hunter.

Is This Seat Taken? Only By My Delusions by SylvieW

An unknown werewolf and his mate move to Beacon Hills and the McCall pack isn’t sure what to expect from them. They discover that while Derek isn’t a problem, Stiles might be.

Scotty didn't know by Smowkie

Scott was confused. They both smelled almost horny, except not really sexual, more like in awe, and they kept approaching each other, complimenting each other, and-. Derek lifted a hand, gently touched Stiles’ cheek.

“Do the eye thing again,” he murmured, and Stiles’ smile was huge as his eyes turned white.

“What the fuck,” Scott said faintly, but no one seemed to notice him.

The life of the irresistibly oblivious Stiles series by Nosiddam1

Just a series of cute fluffy one shots where Stiles is irresistible or oblivious or both and who only has eyes for Derek.

Fell In Love With A Boy by beekayem

When Sera moved to Beacon Hills she met the man of her dreams. Stiles Stilinski her next door neighbour with extraordinary cooking and baking skills and a smile that just melts her heart. He was perfect.

He was also married…to a man. Who may or may not be her boss.

Life was hard.

Too Little Too Late by SolariaLunar21

Danny's always had a secret crush on Stiles Stilinski but never hopes for more until he over-hears Scott and Stiles talking about the other boy coming out to his Dad as bi.

Other fic recs: pack mom!Stiles | angsty fics | possessive Derek | baby/mpreg | historical | smut | mafia | hurt/comfort | magical!Stiles | Stiles gets kicked out of the pack | BAMF!Stiles | omegaverse | witch!Stiles | creature!Stiles | bad friend Scott | unrequited love | werewolf!Stiles | dark sterek | single parent!Stiles