#like that isn’t to say he had no feelings at all but they were very superficial and any time she displayed autonomy or independence from hi

[hees-mine]

Birthday girl - L. Heeseung

Pairing: heeseung X fem reader

Warnings: smut, unprotected sex, alcohol consumption, multiple orgasms, cursing, stepcest, daddy kink, dirty talk, cheating.

Genre: 18+, stepcest.

Word count: 2k+

Decided to just post the full story here cause it got taken down on Patreon :/

-

“Mom, just one, please. I promise it’ll only be one.” It was your 21st birthday, and you celebrated in the kitchen with your mom and your stepdad as you begged her to let you have your first shot on the day you officially turned 21.

“No, I never had a shot at 21,” she simply answers, turning away from you and putting away the leftover cake she had your stepdad buy from the store cause she apparently couldn’t be bothered to get one for you herself.

“Mom, come on, that’s not fair!” You whined. “I’m literally an adult,” you reasoned.

“And you’re literally under my roof,” she replies back nonchalantly like she always does. You hated it when she acted like this.

She would always hold things over your head: no sleepovers, no parties, no boyfriends, no nothing, and it’s not cause she was looking out for you. It’s cause she was jealous of you.

She always told you how she never got to have any of those things, and now you can’t shake the feeling that even though she never directly said it to you, you feel like she’s taking it out on her only daughter, which just isn’t fair.

“Dad!” You turned to heeseung your stepdad, looking for his approval, and he gave you the tiniest hint of a smile while folding his arms over his chest and resting against the kitchen counter.

You and your stepdad had a much better relationship than you and your mother, unlike her. He seemed to actually care about you, which is comical cause he wasn’t even your real dad, and he treated you better than your mom ever did.

He’d always vouch for you, defend you when arguments got too heated, and he never made you feel like you were always in the wrong, unlike your mother did.

His care for you did go a lot further than just how a stepdad would care for their stepchild because his hugs would last a couple of seconds too long. His kisses on the cheek were a little too affectionate, and he'd eye you when you wore revealing outfits a bit too much.

You didn't mind, though. You did it on purpose cause you liked the attention. He wasn't your real dad, and besides, you had met him so late in your life that you were already fully grown, and you didn't even see him as a father figure at all.

Dad never even crossed your mind when you thought about him. All you saw was a very attractive man, and you wondered how your strict, bitter mother landed a gem like him.

“You heard your mom.” he swipes the cake as your mom sets it in the fridge and licks the frosting off his fingertip, humming at the sweet taste. “Now go upstairs and get ready for bed, young lady.”

You rolled your eyes and did as he said. You thought he’d vouch for you this time, too, but apparently not.

Little did you know he had other plans up his sleeve. He only said no to you cause he was not about to start a fight with his wife over you taking one measly shot, especially since it was your birthday.

His wife always had a way of making things about her. Just cause she didn’t get a shot at 21. Why couldn’t you? If he didn’t know any better, he’d say his wife was jealous of her own daughter, and if he’s being honest, it was kinda getting on his nerves the way she’d bitch at you all the time for virtually nothing.

When he married her, she was not like that at all, but once he moved in and you all became family, the whole dynamic changed. She paid more attention to scolding you than him.

He wasn’t needy necessarily, but he did get lonely sometimes, especially in the bedroom, and heeseung noticed that you talked to him more than his own wife.

Which resulted in him developing maybe not a crush but a certain attraction to you, and to his luck, it was mutual between the two of you, considering all the shameless flirting you did back and forth.

At first, he felt a bit guilty, but with the way he was feeling in his marriage, he might as well have been single. He’s not excusing his actions, but he definitely doesn’t care or feel any shame in checking you out from head to toe on a daily basis.

He’d be lying if he said he didn’t spill his load in his palm once or twice at the thought of you.

How could he not when you’d purposefully bend over in front of him pretending that you dropped something or the way you’d push your chest against his whenever you’d hug?

You had already gotten ready for bed, sulking a bit as you leaned against the bed frame, scrolling on your phone.

Heeseung had joined his wife upstairs, lying next to her and sharing a quiet goodnight before they turned off the bedside lamps.

It was always like this: completely silent, no conversation, no talking about the day, no intimacy, absolutely nothing.

Even if he did try to talk, she’d always say she was stressed or tired.

Another one of the reasons Heeseung didn’t feel guilty for having feelings toward you was that you gave him the time of day.

He sighs putting his hands behind his head and staring at the celling finally after an hour passed his wife was fast asleep so he silently slipped out of bed and went to the kitchen where the cupboard was located pulling out a bottle of liquor one he bought expressly for you cause you had been going on all week about wanting to take a shot on your 21st.

He snuck over to your room, knocking on it softly, knowing you’d still be up. You were always up late.

You sighed and got out of bed tossing your blanket to the side and ripping open the door ready to be faced with your mom and some more of her shenanigans. “Wha-“ you stopped mid-way through, shocked to see that it was actually your stepdad instead, and you were pleasantly surprised to see he was in nothing but his underwear and a shirt.

“Hey,” he laughs softly, waving a bottle of liquor in your face along with two shot glasses.

“H-hi,” you smile upon seeing the bottle.

“Are you gonna let me in? Or are you gonna wait for your mom to catch us?” He smirks and you open the door further to let him in.

He bites his lip when you turn around to walk to your bed, eyeing the way those tight little sleep shorts hug your ass.

“I thought you said no?” You pressed your knees to your chest, patting a spot on the bed for him to sit.

He shrugs and takes a seat a little too close to you, but you don’t mind. “Thought I might break the rules a little bit. After all, you are the birthday girl.” he clicks his tongue and winks at you, placing the shot glasses on the nightstand, popping the cap off, and pouring you a drink and one for himself as well.

Feeling daring now that you two are finally alone, you decide to take things a little further than just your usual flirting. “Thanks, Daddy.” You bite your lip to hide your smile as he turns to you with a wide grin on his face.

“Of course, babydoll.” he lifts his hand up to stroke his thumb along your jaw. “Can’t have you going to bed mad at me now, can we?”

“No, Daddy,” you whisper, leaning into the warmth of his palm, and he could already feel himself twitching in his boxers, your skin so soft under his fingertips, so Inviting.

He hands you your shot and takes his, clanking your glasses together. “To the birthday girl,” you smiled shyly and downed the shot in one go.

Your face contorted from its strong taste, your tongue burning in the aftermath, but the aftertaste that was left in your mouth was enough for you to want another one.

He sees the mischievous glint in your eyes and pours you one more. “Only one more pretty girl,” he smiles, giving you one last shot, and you down it. Something about the way your throat bobs and your lips wrap around the rim of the cup makes his lower region feel warm.

“Happy birthday, baby girl.” he extends his hand to your thigh, rubbing his palm over it. Your legs relax under his touch, and you take your second shot before leaning back on the headboard, giving him more space to gently squeeze your thigh.

“Mmm,” you close your eyes as his other hand comes in contact with your right thigh, and now he’s kneading both with his strong hands going up higher and higher till his right thumb begins rubbing your clit over your shorts. “Daddy,” you whisper, rolling your hips against his fingers in desperation without an ounce of shame for being intimate with your mother’s husband.

His mouth parts open, shallow breaths escaping as he watches you succumb to pleasure. “That feels good, princess?” You nod, and he massages your clit some more, adding a bit of pressure as he circles the bud through your clothing. Your whole body heats up, and you can feel an orgasm building embarrassingly quickly inside you.

“Yes, please keep going,” you say breathlessly, your sensitive nipples hardening beneath your shirt, soft whimpers leaving your lips as you get closer.

“Gonna cum already, little one?” his words only push you closer, and he leans down to kiss your thigh. The softness of his lips tip you over the edge as you clamp around, nothing feeling your high being gently coaxed out of you.

“Oh god, Daddy, it feels so good.” You shudder and grip your bedsheets as your eyes roll to the back of your head.

He rubs you through it until you come down and catch your breath. “You did so well, baby. Keep this between you and me, okay, sweetheart?” You nod, and he kisses your thigh again before capping the liquor and getting ready to make his exit, that is, until you grip his wrist to stop him.

“More,” he can’t help but smile, and he can’t say he didn’t want to do more cause the hard-on in his boxers was in need of immediate attention, but he tries to use his better judgment and say no.

“We shouldn-“

“Please, I’m so wet for you been thinking about you every day since we moved in” The admission makes his heart rate pick up and his cock throb in his underwear, and he’s too weak to resist you because like you, he has also been waiting that long to have you.

He sighs, putting the alcohol back down on the nightstand. “Just this once,” he says as if that somehow makes it better. You both know no matter what, it’s wrong, but you couldn’t care less. You just wanted him, so you would take any opportunity that presented itself.

You nodded immediately, and he stood up, hooking his fingers in the waistband of his underwear, pulling them down his hard cock, flopping out thick and veiny for your eyes to feast on. You feel drool pool in your mouth from the sight, and the little bead of precum dripping off his tip was just the cherry on top. You wanted to feel him on your tongue badly.

His clothing falls around his ankles, and he climbs on the bed, hovering above you, his breath heavy with anticipation.

He grabs your shorts using his toned bicep muscles to easily yank your shorts down all the way. “So pretty and wet for me” he eyes your slick pussy and grabs hold of his thick base, guiding his tip between your soaked folds.

His breath stutters as he moves his hips forward and back, coating his thick shaft in your arousal. “Fuck” he twitches in excitement. You feel so warm and wet, and he’s not even inside you yet.

“Daddy,” you whimper desperately, and he knows exactly what you want by the tone of your voice, so he doesn’t want to tease you any longer.

“Don’t worry, sweets. Daddy’s got you.” he guides your hands around his waist, and you dig into the flesh, making him hiss with pain and pleasure.

He nudged the head on your entrance and pulled back a thin, clear string of arousal connecting you and bringing you back together as he pushed the thick tip inside your warm walls.

You wince slightly from the feeling of him stretching you out. Just his tip felt like heaven already, and you couldn’t help the way you squeezed so tightly around him. “Daddy,” you moan out, throwing your head back into the pillows as you gasped for air.

“Shit, there you go,” he grits through his teeth. “Take it in, princess. Take it like daddy’s good little girl” Your walls tighten around his tip, sucking him in even deeper. “You feel so good squeezing on your daddy’s cock. Your little pussy is so wet and warm” his hot breath blows against your face from the close proximity.

Pushing up your shirt, he reveals your chest, his big veiny hands kneading on your soft breasts that you put on display for him so many times, and now he finally got to see them up close and feel them.

Felt so much better than his imagination could ever even think of.

“You’re so big, Daddy,” you breathe out, taking all that he’s giving you obediently or maybe not so obediently cause you couldn’t help but grind down on his dick, forcing him to go in deeper.

His breath gets caught in his throat as your hole swallows him up, and he can’t help but thrust faster, your slick hole getting creamier by the second. “Fuck” his eyes roll back in his head, and he sticks his dick in you even further, watching as your pretty little face contorted in so much pleasure from being filled by his inches. “You’re taking my cock so deep, pretty girl. I’m all the way inside,” he whines, feeling your tight entrance rubbing along his tip, and it sets him off quicker than he’d like to admit. “Daddy’s gonna cum baby”

“Yes, Daddy, please cum all over me” he cups your face holding onto your cheek as you look at him with big round pleading eyes. Your words make him thrust his hips faster, his clammy skin smacking against your own, only adding to the pleasure as he fucks into your silky cunt so deep that his tip bumps your cervix and your breast jiggle with every harsh rut of his hips.

Feeling his high approaching, he lowers his hand to fondle your delicate clit to bring you to the point of no return alongside him.

“Daddy, I’m cumming!” Your body tenses at his actions, your walls clamping down on him tightly as your cunt creams around his cock, the tightness of your pussy feeling heavenly on his throbbing dick.

He lets out a lewd moan and quickly pulls his dick out, hot spurts of cum shooting all over your lower stomach. “Oh fuck fuck” he curses, watching as his dick throbs and paints you in his milky white cum.

You’re both moaning in pleasure as he rubs his cock against your stomach, releasing every last drop of cum on your pretty smooth skin. You both pant heavily while he empties himself completely.

You can’t help but swipe your finger in the puddle of warm cum and hold it to your tongue, sucking off the sticky remnants of his orgasm and savoring his taste.

“Daddy’s good girl,” he smiles in satisfaction, bending down and giving you a short but deep kiss on the lips before he gets up, and you miss his warmth already as he slips back into his boxers.

You watch him disappear into the bathroom and come back with something to clean you up.

He does it ever so gently, eyes full of care and concern, and once he’s finished, he helps you into your clothes and tucks you in for the night. “Happy birthday, baby. Daddy loves you.” he pecked your forehead, your eyes feeling heavy after those two unbelievable orgasms he gave to you.

“Love you too daddy” he smiles softly and takes the liquor and shot glasses heading to the door he took one last look at you puckering his lips and making a kissing noise you giggle and hide your face with the covers before he leaves. “Night, birthday girl,” he whispers to you.

“Goodnight, Daddy,” that’s all you remember before your eyelids fall shut. There’s a faint, satisfied smile on your face as you slip into slumber. This was the best birthday ever, all thanks to your stepdad.

-

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[kiss-me-muchoo]

𝐝𝐢𝐥𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐞 || 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐦𝐚𝐧 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

summary_ when you declined to play Ddakji with a man, the least you expected was him stalking you, even less expected when you oblige him to lick your bleeding wound after seeing him kill a man and escaping him.

warnings_ MDNI, age gap (not specified but legal) reader is a foreigner (implied American but not specified again), stalking, blood play, dom!salesman, switch!reader, toxic till the end, sexual innuendos, manipulation, questionable morals, do not romanticize this irl pls, NO PROOFREAD YET

notes_ I’ll just drop this fic and leave it there bc why am i feeling so horny for an Asian sociopath? me la estoy pasando bien raro (i like it)

♫ ♪ the worst playlist 4 this man

✰ Index (+ fics here)

ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

Everything was irritating. The class you had was canceled last minute, the crowd at the train station was loud, the tapping of a kid in a window was constant, and the message you received asking for your campus ID to keep using your student account was sudden and required immediate action. Your cramps and migraine only aggravate everything.

You were steps away from the stairs when you stopped to take the damn picture of your ID and be done with that. But of course, you couldn’t find your wallet at first glance, so you moved aside to take a better look.

You worried about kneeling and ruining your black coat with the dirtiness of the floor at the station, but at the same time, you thought it was just stupid.

A trail of curses flooded your mind as you tried to find your wallet, making you oblivious to a random man walking in your direction.

“Excuse me, Miss… Would you like to play Ddakji?” Said the man asked you in Korean. You were occupied with a hand inside your thrifted designer tote, and your mind unconsciously prepared an answer in English.

“Sorry, I don’t have time” When you realized your mid-answer you sighed, just as you fished out your wallet. “For every win of yours, you’ll earn a great sum of cash”

Once you stood up, you met the face of the man who now answered in English as well. Very tall, handsome, innocent smile and in a suit; a businessman. You knew it was wrong to judge but there was something behind the smile he offered you that resulted eerie.

Like behind that seemingly blameless expression, the man was hiding his true intentions.

Might’ve been your eyes or hair that caught his attention. You weren’t native, and he didn’t want to think he could take advantage, yet his feet dragged him to you.

Placing your bag over your shoulder again, you grab your glasses and phone with tangled EarPods. You give the man one last look. You are not having a good day and you don’t have time to deal with this.

“What do you say?” He asks feigning kindness, eyeing you subtly without your knowledge.

“No, thank you. I don’t even know how the game works”

“You look like you are a natural. You might be surprised if you try. You just have to pick a color and try to flip the opposing tile”

The rich always trying to fuck the one who isn’t. This was just a new way. The urge to roll your eyes grew but you remained still.

“Look, I’m sorry. But I bet you do this just to see how desperate people who need money can go. I won’t be one of them. If not, sorry for misjudging you” you harshly say before putting on your EarPods and leaving the station. You leave him perplexed, huffing in disbelief and igniting a fire of curiosity inside him.

And you completely forgot about the Ddakji man as you made it to your little apartment, not knowing he would turn upside down your upcoming days.

…

Warm days in winter were exciting for you. They boosted your energy and made you want to be out all day.

You had the luck of living in a beautiful complex because it was once from a friend of your mother who married years ago and now had her single apartment for rent.

It had long warm hallways that hosted at least eight apartments by floor. With orange and pink subtle lights and uneven edges. It was truly a sight despite how little the apartments were. One bedroom with closet and bathroom, a tiny studio, small kitchen, enough space for a dining table, another small bathroom, and a half sized living room with balcony.

Your loneliness was well-balanced because you loved your home. But even on warm days, you wanted to be out.

Your red shoes contrasted with everything you stepped on. You carried a bag with a bunch of books and another one with thrifted clothes you bought.

At the park you always walked by, there was a fair amount of people as usual. You don’t care much to look around but someone makes you stare longer than needed.

The same man who asked if you wanted to play a game at the station was in the park. Another impeccable suit dressing him, looking attractive like the first time and already looking at you.

He offered you a smile, to which you didn’t reply. You looked at the ground, feeling like you had frozen.

What a weirdo, he offered bread and a random paper to a lonely man.

Simultaneously, you wondered if the man found you attractive enough to stare like that. With your mind that often became nihilistic, you thought you were delusional and that you should just keep walking.

His eyes remained glued to you. As his prey was thinking about what was better to choose, he contemplated you walking again.

The salesman realized he had made you nervous and that made him feel eager to end his job and follow you again.

Once he realized you lived in a good neighborhood, where his elegant suits matched the vibe, he got even more excited to see you again.

So now, was like it was meant to be.

How sweet, sophisticated, and innocent you looked.

Something shifted, as you passed by his side, only having a view of his back, you assumed he was worked out, his hair looked perfectly fine, and his big hands offered two things. Perhaps you had misjudged him and he really wanted to help. But your inner voice said otherwise. In a sudden change of events, you decided to look back once you were almost at the exit of the park.

With his deep gaze still set on you, your lips formed a smile.

And he took it as a first win in the games that had begun between you two.

…

Once again, you find yourself in the library. Inside one of the biggest malls you’ve been to, you are leaning at a counter, asking if they have an English translation of a book you were interested in.

Your Korean isn’t good enough yet, so as the nice librarian disappeared to find your request, you are working on your next reply, with a translation app.

“Do you recommend me this one?” your back arched as a startled reflex. You quickly stand straight and turn around to see the person you grew anxious to avoid and see again. The salesman is there, looking down at you with a perfectly orchestrated smile.

“Huh?” you ask disconcertingly, he shows you a book, his face looking like he had found a wounded little bird. But it was only you, startled and nervous by his strong presence.

The book is The Divine Comedy. Dante Alighieri.

“Certainly is a good one. A lot of heavenly justice…” you say trying to sound confident, looking at the cover of the book. Displaying the layers that separated heaven from hell. “Do you believe in heavenly justice?”

“I don’t know. We can’t call someone a sinner without a proper trial beforehand” he chuckles, which makes you frown for a second. He truly was unpredictable and you didn’t like that. “Ah, sinners. Always misjudged and harshly punished for being the ones who have the guts to make things…” his deep voice and tone made you wonder if he was self-perceived as a sinner, which made you feel worse.

“You sound like an ethnocentric…”

“I don’t think I’m far into that type of thinking, y/n” Your eyes almost popped out, leaving your hands in an anxious tremble.

“How is it possible that you know my name?” Before he can even answer, you add more. “You are stalking me”

His demonic smile makes your heart stop. The smile you once thought had innocence can’t blind you anymore. He isn’t innocent. He literally confirmed he was stalking you and you didn’t know how to feel.

“I don’t like the idea that conveys the word ‘stalking’. We can call it predestination…” you huff in disbelief. “What do you want with me?”

“I would like to get to know the woman who rejected my Ddakji offer. And ask for one more game” Your lips form a line, and quietly you are hating how much you are enjoying the conversation.

“Hmm, I’m bad at most games, so I’m afraid I will reject you once again” You turned back again to see if the librarian was coming when you felt him stepping closer, which made you feel nervous again.

“I might believe you. I always win…” he whispered in your ear, sending shivers through your spine and creating a lot of tension.

Your psycho mode almost made you lean forward again, daring to see if some friction was possible. But you didn’t, trying to be prudent and acting sane.

“I would’ve wanted a normal first interaction and this time you should’ve asked me out on a date. That’s how it works where I come from but… here, I guess not” he stepped aside as the librarian handed you the book. And as you thanked her and turned to leave and pay somewhere else, he took out a card and handed it to you.

“I’m sure we can work on some sort of arrangement. Here, you may call me…” slightly irritated that he didn’t say much about your inquiry, you snatched the card and walked away.

The cathartic feelings of wanting to keep talking to him and running away from him at the same time resulted in excruciating. It didn’t make sense, the point of him was to nowhere. Being clueless about his age, name, and everything made it feel wrong. Yet, curiosity was starting to burn you.

…

Like a miracle, the heavens moved and sprinkled some luck above you. You found some friends on campus, they spoke English like you and were foreigners as well. One of them was a friend of the owner of a club and invited you for the night.

The invitation made you forgetful about your salesman, whom you hadn’t talked with since the encounter in the library. The card he handed the last time rested between the book you bought the same day, making you unable to read more because it reminded you of the encounter with him.

It resulted unknown to you when was that your life had turned over the edge of becoming twisted. Your feelings for a mysterious man who seemed more accusable than appeared remained undecided.

He made you feel like a wildfire and a caged bird at the same time. Delicate but menacing.

He seemed older than you, professional in a field, mature and imposing. Which you didn’t mind when he appeared to ask you about The Divine Comedy. Either way, you were playing but couldn’t risk anything. Especially in a country where you didn’t know how everything worked.

After getting out of the shower, your thoughts on the salesman are completely faded. You slip on a sequin dress and paint your eyes with glitter and a smokey style.

Thereafter, at the club you let yourself go and have a wild night. Between classes, essays, and the issue with the salesman, you needed a time out.

Everything feels nice when you take a bathroom break and you smile at your reflection. You know you are close to being drunk, it’s the most enjoyable stage of ingesting alcohol.

“Hey, let’s go dancing, I couldn’t find you before!” Yells one of your friends after you reunite with the little group. You nod excitedly, taking her hand and letting her take you to the dance floor.

The music reminded you of that time when spinnin records were a trend and everyone played their mixes at parties back at home. As you move along the track, you don’t look at anything in particular, you just feel interesting and sexy. But your eyes end up giving a quick glance at one table, almost making you stop your euphoric moment.

You swore you saw your salesman.

Looking around you don’t see him, so you return dancing but the odd sensation in your chest doesn’t let you rest.

“What happens?” Asks another friend, looking worried.

“Nothing. Just thought I saw someone. Never mind…” you shake your head, smiling and convincing them that everything is fine.

But once they got more drunk, you walked out, despite curiosity, you wanted to confirm if the tall gorgeous man was near you.

Rarely you bring up to question your life decisions. Not because you thought you were perfect, but because you easily accepted your errors.

And it wasn’t hard to accept you completely messed up by getting out of the club. Where the night was colder, and some steps away from the main entrance, the crowd was loud. A man could be heard pleading and sobbing, which made you fearful but eager to see what was happening.

You peeked at the alley beside the club. A wave of shock flooded you once you noticed another man was punching the one who yelped and sobbed for forgiveness.

Your salesman was the attacker.

“Please! I’ll pay everything back!” Your mind raced back to the moment you spotted your salesman inside the club minutes ago.

His dark grey suit didn’t fit the aura of the place, but he seemed to be talking with the same man he was now punching.

It was obvious at that point that he wasn’t a good man. He made fun of making people play his seemingly innocent games to later laugh in the face whenever they lost. He was never flirting with you, the odd feeling of uncertainty you felt with him was right.

You had to go. You had to burn the card he gave you, avoid the station where you met him, and forget about his face.

There’s panic in your system, your heart beats fast and nausea starts coming up your throat.

You want to get immediately drunk and forget everything you saw with a hangover. You need it.

But you don’t get very far. Midway through the stairs that conduct to the club, a hand holds your forearm with extreme pressure and drags you inside a private room.

Your salesman finally found you.

…

“You just killed a man!” you almost yelled as soon as he pushed you inside and closed the door.

The room was very fancy like the club. It had a big desk near a window, flower-shaped hanging lamps, black sparkly floor tiles, and a sage velvet couch.

Your salesman slides his fingers through his hair and looks at the ceiling before turning to you. One hand still carrying the murder weapon.

“He deserved it” was all he answered and you take a breath. In need of an alibi, you opened a random fridge in the room and grabbed a beer. Your salesman watched how you sipped at the can. He knew you were feeling a mix of curiosity and disgust for him.

Once you drink at least half of the content, you sigh, brushing aside some hair and walking towards him.

“Who are you?” you ask pleadingly, desperate to know how far you’ve gone for him.

“Eventually you’ll know” he sounds cold, calculating, and menacing. “You didn’t call…”

He was taking advantage of your vulnerability.

“I met you a week ago, I don’t even know your name” you admit with shame and dissatisfaction.

For the first time, he genuinely touches you. Hands straight to your waist, making gasp in surprise.

“You’re smart and will eventually understand. You’re my good girl”

His good girl….

What was left to do when you have a sociopath holding your waist with the same hands he had used to kill a man? Play along, even if you are terrified.

What had been your horrified face, slowly ends up in a smirk, tilting your head, squandering cheekiness. “I’m not your good girl, sir”

He slowly leaned back, taking a seat on the sage couch, one of his hands going straight to rest behind his head, against the wall. He twirled the knife against his knee, making you uneasy, but confident about your upcoming words.

“If I walk away, you can’t do much with me, I’m a foreigner. Sure the authorities would dismantle whatever dirty job you’re into and that’s a big no-no” you explain, and feeling a little too bold, you step between his legs.

“Your lack of ignorance amazes me” he admits, offering you a cocky smile. “It makes me even more infatuated”

Your left knee pushed aside his hand twirling the knife. He remained still but sure seemed slightly surprised when you ended up straddling him. With your hands glued to his dark tie, putting it into place.

“Hmm, well, be careful. I am no threat, I barely have valuable skills to get rid of you but I know I could be a problem. So I guess I won, sir…” you allow yourself to smile, following a path with your fingers, from his tie to his cheeks and nose, softly tracing his pale skin.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about, sweetheart” You knew he was trying to be in control, and the best part was that you weren’t fighting for it.

“There’s a lot I might not understand. I’m just a girl who happened to be in this city for a temporary academic project” When your lips brushed his, you couldn’t deny he was so fucking hot, you wished he wasn’t so weird and probably part of a mafia or cult or whatever. “You are the grown-ass man who got obsessed with me”

“I just find you an odd but interesting player, sweet girl” he tried to use his innocent smile but it was useless when you grabbed him by the shoulders and finally dared to kiss him.

He controlled it the moment he touched you again. His hands had a possessive sting and firmly grabbed you by the hips. One of them still holding the knife.

Feeling bold, with adrenaline flowing freely, you softly bit his lower lip. You knew it was over when he almost let out a moan, and after checking he had his eyes closed, you literally jumped away from him.

Without looking back, you started running. Your clumsy steps turn frantic, knowing damn well he would start following you soon. As you literally start pushing people to get out, your heart beats faster than ever and you have a growing anxiety, begging you to stop and breathe.

Once the cold air hit you, as you took a cab and saw no sign of your salesman, confusion struck you and you saw the blood in your chest and arm.

“Are you alright, girl?” The driver asked, also watching your bleeding state.

“Yes, just an accident, I’m okay” he nods unsure, but starts driving after you give him your destination.

His knife must’ve sliced your skin when you stood up from his lap. When he moved one of his big hands to caress your chin.

It wasn’t that you were scared of him, of your salesman. Although you should be; but you weren’t. Could it be that the worst part was that you were attracted to him? Even after watching him kill a man? You were screwed.

You realize the reason why you always ran away from him is because you don’t know how to face his unpredictable demeanor.

At that point, you didn’t know what he wanted. Only that he was obsessed with you. But his intentions remained a mystery unsolved.

Before getting out of the cab, you pay and send your friends a message that you left early because you got a headache after vomiting. This didn’t happen, but would’ve been better to experience it as a young woman in her twenties.

…

When you opened the door, he was already inside. The worst part is that you weren’t surprised anymore. You only stood at the feet of the door, looking at him with uneasiness.

“You got me worried,” he says, stopping his movements around your table. “You left some blood stains and I thought it was serious”

“You accidentally showed me your true nature. A little bit of blood shouldn’t scare you” his shirt indeed had some bloody spots, his blazer was gone, and the sleeves of his messy shirt were rolled up. You hated that your first thought was that he looked very hot.

He moved and took a seat at one of your tables. He sighed and you realized that perhaps he was also screwed up. For letting himself go too far for you.

“I don’t regret any encounter we’ve had,” he says. “Me neither”

He can’t stop staring at your bloodstained dress and you notice.

Fuck everything, you thought.

I’m attracted to him, he’s attracted to me, What’s the worst thing that could happen? (I don’t want to know).

“Silly boy, look what you did to me,” you say looking at the soaked fabric.

Something possessed you at that moment. Your hands went straight to lift your dress. His eyes trailed your sparkly underwear, your lower belly, and your ribs that rose and fell as you breathed.

Your hands twirl behind your back to unhook your bra; also soaked, throwing it to the floor.

Your salesman is quiet, his innocent smile about to fall because you know you have taken him by surprise.

Likely you’ll get a scar. The would-be slightly deep, an uneven line that passed from your neck to your shoulder.

You step forward, confidently eyeing him.

“Clean it” he tried to stand up, probably to grab a med kit but you stopped him with your heel. “With your mouth. Lick it clean…”

He gulped.

His manspread became the only thing you could care about. How he eyed you with lust and possession for some seconds, and then to lean forwards.

Once again his hands landed on the curves of your hips and he made you step up, leaving him inches away from you.

Your sudden surgation grew and his hot tongue finally made contact with your skin.

You savored the feeling of his tongue, knowing he wouldn’t clean anything but the semi-dry blood over your breast. He was only making a mess.

Then, he lifts his head and catches your lips in a sullied kiss. The way he held you, made you understand how he always wanted control. Above anything.

“I will be gone within time. You can ruin me while it lasts…” you blurt out, panting for air.

“I’ll ruin you. But I don’t want to rip you apart. That’s pointless…” he admits in your lips, blood near your chin that he wipes out. “You’re the most fun I’ve had in years. My little toy…”

“Alright, I’ll be your toy” he nods, kissing you again. “Know that my lips are sealed when it comes to you”

“And you won’t have to worry about anything again…” you moan on his lips when he pulls your hair and finally makes you lay on your once new carpet, now displaying some splotches of blood.

“I don’t need your money”

“Don’t you want to make your mother proud and relieved from student debts? From rent?” You can’t think straight. “It’s not correct…”

“None of this is, y/n. Now shut your mouth and spread your legs, toy”

It’s wrong, immoral, a complete madness. You know everything will change once the night dies and the morning comes. But as much as you tried to communicate to him that you weren’t scared, you knew it was over, you’ve gotten too deep into his shit.

“Farewell to my purity” you whisper in his ear and it’s enough to make his eyes turn darker, full of lust.

Everything that consoles purity would be gone from you. And the fact that you were ready scared you. But once his hands started meeting places across your body, you welcomed the sin.

As well as your mind seized thinking. Not caring about the consequences.

_______________________________________________

If you ask for more I will provide

Quién me manda a escribir estas mamadas? I’m just ovulating.

[myownwholewildworld]

Love is heartbreak

↪ a the age of adaline inspired fic

pairing: marcus acacius x ageless!f!reader. summary: kissed by the goddess juno on your day of reckoning, you are brought back to life, condemned to wander the earth for a century. until you meet the other half of your soul who offers you the life you yearn for. but will you be strong enough to accept such promise? author's note: yes, i've cheated on my other wips, I'M SORRY. but when the angst and romance call, i can only answer - i am only human afterall. hope you like this little story that was supposed to be a drabble but ended up being this long, oops! comments and reblogs appreciated. enjoy! x warnings: 18+, mdni. soulmates trope. angst, romance, smut. mild breeding kink (soz). infidelity. mention of SA (not by Marcus) and death. dual pov. reader is female and a blank slate. reader is close to 150 years old (stopped ageing in her twenties) and Marcus is in his fifties. not beta'd and very lightly proofread, apologies if you spot any mistakes lol wordcount: ~8.4k. divider by @\saradika-graphics

“I’ll do anything to stay by your side, amica mea (my beloved). I don’t care about what the future holds if it’s not with you,” Marcus’ broad hands held yours, his thumb drawing invisible circles on the back of your hands.

You hated this — how your heart twisted inside you, torn apart by the choice you had to make. Was this never-ending life not enough punishment? No, you also had to go through heartbreak — your own and Marcus’. For love, you had to.

With eyes averted, you looked down at your worn sandals. Tears teetering on the edge of your waterlines as your vision became blurry with sadness, regrets and fears washed over you like the Tiber kissing the shore goodbye.

In your hundred years wandering the ground beneath your feet, you never had to go through this. Always so careful not to feel, not to grow close to anyone, not to really live the life you wanted, and now you were in a position where it almost felt too real.

Within reach — you only had to extend your hands and hug him in a tight, soothing embrace. Only needed to accept the life that Marcus was offering. Though as much as you wanted to—you wanted it, him, so badly—you could never.

And what was worst, you couldn’t explain why. First you would see the horror in his eyes, that frightened look glittering, then incomprehension, and finally disgust. Your heart couldn’t take it.

“But I do care, Marcus. Yours is bright, your military career is about to take off. I would only hinder you, your dreams. I am no one, and—” you tried to reason with him.

But love was blind. Love was deaf. Love didn’t care about impossibilities, because love was defiant.

At least his was.

“Do you think I care about being disowned? Do you truly believe that I would choose such dreadful life over you? Over a wonderful life with the person I love most?” Marcus squeezed your hands before one of his found your chin, tilting up your face to him. “Omnia vincit amor, et nos cedamus amori (love conquers all, let us too yield to love).”

You shook your head in denial, his words ringing in your ears like chants of war. Because Marcus waged war in all aspects of life, even in love — he’d conquered your heart so fully, you’d never asked him to return it. It would forever be his to cherish, to cry over, to destroy, to hate.

Because he would need to hate you to overcome the heartbreak you were about to cause.

“You don’t have a choice here. You are to marry the lady your family has arranged for; her family’s prestige will do you good. You’re just infatuated, Marcus, it isn’t true love,” you forced yourself to let a soft laugh out, wiping your tears as you took a step back. “At least, for me, it isn’t.”

Marcus’ expression folded and your heart with him. You hated yourself for saying such a vile lie, but a necessary one. The passage of time would not affect you, always stagnant in your early twenties after a fateful day when Juno decided to save your life from certain death. The Goddess of love and marriage was also one known for Her eternal youthfulness — one She would only share with those who had been wronged. And you had been so wronged in your mortal life.

And here you were, so close to committing the same mistake all over again. But you knew better this time — not because you didn’t trust Marcus, but because Fate was capricious. It didn’t matter if Juno was watching over you.

“You don’t mean that. I know you don’t. This is true love, lux mihi (my light), one that would live through eternity,” Marcus muttered breathlessly, reaching for you again, looking for that unbreakable connection you both strongly shared.

“Eternity? Don’t speak of things you don’t understand, Marcus,” you retorted, forcing your tone to sound mocking.

Another step back with an unmovable expression and you saw realisation dawning on him. Slowly like a river widening its meanders, steady like the constant flow of water. Relentless you were, steadfast in your resolution.

“Ave atque vale (hail and farewell), Acacius,” were your last words to him.

35 years later...

“Father, may I marry her?”

Marcus gazed down the dining table, eyeing his son with consideration. He knew what it felt like, how true love messed up your head to the point of madness. He had felt that way only once in his life, and it wasn’t for the woman sitting beside him.

As cruel as it sounded, Marcus never loved his wife, because his heart belonged to someone else — the now hazy memory of a woman who always lingered on the edges of his mind. A cruel reminder of how feeble and fleeting love was, how love turned into heartbreak with just a few words.

“At least, for me, it isn’t.”

That sentence alone had broken him, his ability to feel some sort of romantic connection died that very same day. At night it would haunt him, filling his dreams with nightmares. The same scene playing over and over in his mind, his heart cracking even more every time those words would hit him.

He’d waited for weeks, months. A year it took him to realise you truly were not coming back, that you meant it. He’d only been a plaything for you, a toy you discarded once things got too real. And at that point he surrendered to the pressure his family put on him. Marcus had followed through with the arranged marriage in the end, despite the agony and the empty hole in his chest.

And now his son was following in his footsteps. His heir looked so much like him, like a reflection of the past staring back at him. It pained him — he saw himself in Magnus, almost as if the roles had reversed and he was his own father thirty-five years ago. Pleading, asking to marry the love of his life even though his hand had already been promised in holy matrimony to another.

His wife, Prisca, waved one of her hands with disdain, the spoon clattering on the porcelain plate.

“Nonsense, Magnus,” she tutted at their son. “We’ve already been through this. You will marry Verina. You’d put us in a very compromised position with Gellius if you don’t.”

“But—”

“Quit your whining and man up, my son. Gellius is the Emperor’s best counsellor. It will bring our family great reputation,” Prisca reasoned, tone poisoned with greed. “And riches.”

“Father?” Magnus’ eyes shot to his, pleading him to intervene.

Marcus sensed Prisca stiffening besides him, gripping the arms of the chair like a vice. He didn’t look in her direction but knew how her orbs distilled venom. She would never understand what their son was talking about, but he did. Too damn right.

“I would like to meet her before giving you my blessing,” he spoke calmly, lacing his hands together on top of the wooden table.

Magnus’ eyes sparked up, a hopeful smile curling his mouth.

“Of course, of course! She’s waiting right outside,” and then his son hurried out of the room.

Prisca stood up, the screeching noise of the chair’s legs irritating Marcus.

“Like father, like son,” she muttered maliciously before disappearing too.

In this moment of silent respite, Marcus pinched the bridge of his hooked nose. The patience he had to muster was titanic. His life had been nothing but heartache and war, his son being the only reason he stood by his wife’s side in public. He’d tired of the pantomime, but there wasn’t much he could do about it.

He would meet the woman who had stolen Magnus’ heart, just to make sure there was no deception from her part. Marcus wouldn’t wish for his son to go through the same heartbreak as him. If everything was at it should, then he wouldn’t oppose.

“Father,” Magnus called, and Marcus removed the hand from his exhausted, battle-scarred face.

His heart literally stopped.

A warm smile softened your expression when Magnus asked you to join his family in the dining hall. You had been sitting patiently in a small waiting room, wondering if this was right.

The first time you had laid eyes on Magnus a week ago, your heart jolted, and your mind went blank. He reminded you so much of your one and only true love, the one you ditched thirty-five years ago because you were too afraid to embrace the beautiful life he had offered you. The one you still felt in your heart, dormant yet very present in your everyday life.

Perhaps it was wrong of you to encourage this situation, whatever this was. When Magnus had asked you that morning to join his family for supper, he had caught you off guard, so you found yourself agreeing to it.

Deep down you knew why you hadn’t disappeared yet: you wanted to live this moment one more time. Wanted to remember how it felt to be loved so fiercely by Marcus, a yearning you’d been craving for over three decades. Only this man wasn’t Marcus, only someone who was his spitting image.

One dinner, a few hours more of playing pretend, and then you’d vanish again. Leave Rome behind after such brief visit before someone recognised you. You couldn’t afford to give any explanations, so you’d only visit this place once every decade.

You walked behind Magnus, head slightly bowed and hands laced in front of you. Magnus’ broad body blocked your vision, but soon enough he stepped aside to introduce you.

You curtsied, eyes averted, fixed on the marble slabs.

Before you straightened your back and introduced yourself, the man across the room spoke your name — your real birthname.

Inevitably, your heart sank to your belly with panic and your eyes quickly drifted up to meet the darkened ones you once had allowed yourself to swim in.

Marcus. Your Marcus.

Your heart raced in your chest and filled with pure joy. You couldn’t stop the smile that had started curling your lips nor the glassiness of your eyes.

Your one and true love was staring back at you with widened, tired eyes. He had gotten up off his chair and was striding towards you before he suddenly halted a couple of meters away from you with confusion painting his handsome features. Ones that had not remained impassible to the passage of time and war, but ones that you daydreamed about every single day without fail.

So within reach — you would only need to close the distance between you two and hug him, hug him till dawn and never let go. Oh, how much you missed him, how much you still loved him. With your whole heart, the one that ached and wept with regret in your chest right now.

Would he love you back? Did you break the love you shared past the point of mending?

“What? Her name is Aurora, father,” Magnus chuckled nervously, his eyes dancing between the two of you, puzzled. “This is the woman who has stolen my heart. I would like to marry the love of my life with your blessing.”

Your eyes flew from Marcus to Magnus at the revelation, bewildered. Marriage? Was this what it was all about, the purpose of his invitation to meet his family? Marcus’ son wanted to marry you?

You had not seen that coming, as it wasn’t your intention at all. You had only wanted to live this fleeting fantasy of yours for a few days, but there wasn’t love. Not like the one you felt for Marcus, that could never compare.

“Your name is Aurora?” Marcus’ question forced you to look in his direction, your heart twisting maddingly inside you. You nodded with hesitation, “I thought you were…” Marcus pronounced your real name again, the sinking pit of your stomach churning.

“That was my mother,” you quickly came up with a lie. You could never tell him the truth.

“Your mother,” he repeated slowly, shock and pain transforming his beautiful face. “I knew your mother.”

“What? Really?” Magnus intervened with a laugh, palming his father’s shoulder. “That’s such a coincidence!”

You looked at both of them, but your eyes inevitably lingered on Marcus’ darkened ones. Would he believe your lie? Again?

“The resemblance with her is… uncanny. You look so much like her, Aurora,” Marcus rasped, taking a step back and steeling his posture with determination.

He didn’t need to speak for you knew his hurt. Because the same memories that were flooding his mind, had been drowning you for decades.

The atmosphere felt heavy with unspoken truths, your face burning — you loathed yourself for the pain you had caused him. Pain that still contorted his expression every time his eyes flicked to yours.

Would he ever forgive you? Would he know that you lied so many years ago? That you truly and irremediably loved him? That you would always do?

You bowed down your head, mainly to conceal the unspent tears brimming on your waterlines.

“So I have been told, General,” you muttered softly as Magnus’ hand rested easily on the small of your back, his lips brushing your temple gently.

“I know this may seem sudden, father, but I know that Aurora is the one,” Magnus confessed shyly, pulling your body towards him in a warm half-embrace.

Never in your life had you wished yourself to disappear so badly. Marcus’ sight burnt through you and you couldn’t help but reciprocate him. The sadness—no, the heartbreak—in them was like a dagger through your heart, and you wondered if the decision you made so many years ago had been the right one.

By the looks of it, he had done well for himself, just as you had imagined he would. The villa was beautiful, sumptuous even. It spoke of his status in the Empire, how highly rewarded he had been for his enterprise. You assumed that Marcus had married eventually after you left, and you only hoped he’d married for love.

“I see,” Marcus murmured in reply to his son, walking back to his chair. “Let’s eat first. Prisca, my wife, won’t be joining us. She had to excuse herself because she wasn’t feeling well. Please forgive her absence.”

Prisca. So he hadn’t married for love, his family had won and forced him into an arranged marriage after all. Your heart cried for him, for the injustice you had showered upon him with your departure. Perhaps he ended up loving her so his life wouldn’t be as miserable.

That last thought stung, the dagger further twisting in your heart. You wanted his happiness, but selfishly you hoped Marcus still loved you. Undeserving of such love you were, that was clear to you, but you still hoped anyway.

“Of course, Dominus,” you hushed as Magnus guided you to an empty chair.

The food served was delicious, but the silence looming over the table tinged the atmosphere uncomfortable. Magnus did a remarkable effort to keep the conversation going, but Marcus’ succinct replies didn’t leave much room for chatter. And when Magnus pushed again about the marriage proposal—to you dismay—Marcus said that it could discussed tomorrow over breakfast.

Even though the man in front of you had aged, you still saw him as he was thirty-five years ago. He had a scar on his upper cheek and across the bridge of his aquiline nose, crows feet kissing the corners of his brown eyes, his thick curls were greying, and his demeanour was more stoic, but he was still your Marcus.

The only difference though was his lack of… life. His eyes didn’t sparkle anymore, they were tinted with darkness and sorrow. Had war changed him? Had you changed him?

Your throat collapsed on itself, tightening to the point of suffocation. Just in time, you reined in the tears as the last maid removed the plate in front of you.

“I should be going,” you announced, pushing back the chair to stand up.

Marcus sprung to his feet before his son did. And when he realised his promptness, he cleared his throat but didn’t speak.

“It’s late,” Magnus said, standing up to be by your side, throwing a confused glance to his father. “Could she stay the night, father, please?”

Marcus nodded.

“I will ask one of the servants to prepare one of the empty chambers,” Marcus conceded, walking around the table to meet his son.

“Oh,” Magnus sighed, and you knew he’d hoped to share a bed with you tonight.

Your face burnt once more with shame when Marcus’ eyes looked for yours. However, you didn’t meet his gaze, scared of what you would find in it.

“Thank you, General, you are most generous,” you husked in a low voice.

“I will show you around the villa in the meantime, amica mea,” Magnus said, his hand quick to rest on the back of your waist.

You subtly flinched at his endearment. That was what his father always called you. It felt wrong when he said it now, completely out of place — it didn’t at first, when you looked at him and imagined he was Marcus instead. But with the love of your life standing firm in front of you, it sounded so vile.

This fantasy of yours was a dangerous game, one you didn’t want to play. Not if it meant hurting Marcus again, because you could see the way he studied you. How his pupils dilated with anger every time his son would seek your touch. It was killing him, and you in the process. When everyone went to sleep, you would leave in the middle of the night, as the shadow you were condemned to be.

Magnus urged you to turn around and walk beside him, when you heard Marcus gasp.

“Your birthmark,” his words stopped you right in your tracks.

When Juno touched you to bring you back to life over a century ago, Her caress left a mark on the back of your left shoulder. The shape resembled that of a peacock, the loyal animal known to accompany the Goddess.

“What about it?” Magnus intervened, confused by the interruption.

Slowly you looked over your shoulder to glance at Marcus. His eyes were a window to his restless, half soul, desperate and blown — he knew. He searched your face for a crack, a way in, but your expression didn’t tumble.

You wished you could veer around and throw yourself in his arms, kiss him and apologise, ask him to take you back. But you just couldn’t. Love was heartbreak, and it would have to remain that way if you didn’t want to hurt Marcus even more than what you already had.

“Nothing,” he grumbled, jaw tight with a tic on the muscle.

Marcus stirred in bed, unable to get any sleep.

Your face haunted him brighter than ever — every time his eyes shut, your sorry expression would gnaw at the confines of his mind. Seeing you right in front of him after so many years, all curled up to his son’s side, drove him mad.

At first, he thought himself crazy. You looked exactly as you did thirty-five years ago — not even a wrinkle kissed your skin, not a greying hair anywhere to be seen in your plaited hair. So when you explained you were the daughter of the woman who broke his heart, he had believed you.

That was until he saw the birthmark on your shoulder. The unmistakable shape he had joked about in the past, telling you that you had been kissed by Juno Herself at birth. It was impossible that you had inherited such a peculiar mark.

But it was even more impossible that you had remained as youthful as you were, as if not a single day had passed. How was that even possible? Some people were gifted with slow ageing, he had seen some, but to remain exactly the same? No, there was something else lurking, an explanation he could not grasp because it was too surreal, too unfathomable for a mortal.

Marcus needed answers. His mind was a tangled mess, this new discovery shining a different light on the conversation that destroyed him over three decades ago. Did your words have a meaning he had not been able to see before?

“Eternity? Don’t speak of things you don’t understand, Marcus.”

What had you truly meant by that? Did you understand what eternity really was in a level he couldn’t even start to comprehend?

Heart pounding, he quietly removed the covers and sat on the bed. A quick glance over his shoulder confirmed that Prisca was sound asleep. Not that she would miss him anyway.

In darkness, Marcus palmed around until he found his toga and quickly changed to then walk out of his bedchamber with a clear destination in mind.

He trudged along the cold corridors of his villa until he found the door to the room you were sleeping in. For a second, he doubted, thinking he was crazy for the implausible reason taking form in his mind. But if it wasn’t that—that you were, somehow, ageless—he still needed to know why. Why hadn’t you aged? Why leave him? Why not tell him the truth?

As his shaky hand lifted and curled to knock on the wooden plank, the door swung open.

You appeared under the doorframe with a wild expression and widened eyes, obviously in a hurry to leave. Again.

“Marcus,” you gasped, one hand flying to your chest in surprise as your beautiful eyes met his.

He froze in place, all the words he had planned to say stuck to the back of his throat, forming a lump that would not let him speak. Your beauty was dazzling, but it was the buried love he harboured for you what stopped him from talking as it resurfaced.

His memory of you had not faded, able to remember every single feature of your face regardless the passage of time. Everything about you was engraved in his mind, but he had almost forgotten how sweet you smelt. Roses, with an earthy hint of grass.

As your scent numbed his mind, Marcus finally found his dry tongue.

“Don’t leave, please. Don’t leave again,” he begged in a hoarse whisper, his eyes diving in yours.

You looked up at him and he felt himself under a spell. The same one you had him under years ago, when the heart was shattered and the mind bleak. Because even when you waved him goodbye, he still loved you. Never stopped, was never able to hate you for what you did, what you said.

“Can we talk?” he pushed before realising your eyes were glassy with sadness. “I know your name is not Aurora. I know it’s you.”

Your bottom lip trembled as a single tear fell from the cliff of your lashes. Moved by his own ghost of the past, Marcus reached for your cheek with his palm, the thumb brushing away the tears that followed the first one.

You let go of a deep sigh, kissed the palm of his hand and nodded. His heart was beating so loud, so fast, he almost missed your words.

“I owe you an explanation, Marcus,” you finally spoke, a broken sob almost tearing his resolution.

As you stepped aside, Marcus came into the room you were so eager to leave behind. Your heartbeat had spiked the moment you saw him and hadn’t slowed down since then. Perhaps you didn’t die of heartbreak but could die of a heart attack.

For decades you had been running until you found him. Until Marcus made you believe you could have everything he promised. It had been the first time you had actually considered growing roots. But the thought of not being able to grow old, to see the love of your life wither away while you remained sane, was paralysing. You had panicked — too scared to accept the love of a man who would give up everything for you, too frightened to trust someone again.

But was Marcus not worthy of your trust? He demonstrated repeatedly how he would always protect you, always cherish you. Not only with words, but with actions too. He had been so considerate, so loving, for a moment in the past you thought it a ruse. How could someone be so damn perfect and still be real?

Your heart clenched in pain, seeing him latch the door behind him and turn around to face you. The look of confusion, of sorrow, ate at your conscience. Under the candlelight, his torn features stuck out, time unforgiving. He was still gorgeous, would always be in your eyes.

“I’m sorry,” was the first thing that slipped out before the quivering of your bottom lip let out a sob. “I’m so sorry, Marcus. I didn’t know Magnus was your son, otherwise I would have never—” you shook your head, taming your cries. “I should have known. He looks so much like you. When I first saw him, I thought it was you. That somehow you had been able to still time and be with me.”

You sobbed a pitiful laugh, unable to look him in the eye. It was shameful having to admit something like this — that you had chased after a boy because he reminded you of someone you loved. But despite your immortality, you were still capable of human mistakes.

“So you didn’t know he was my son?” Marcus asked quietly. You could see the inner workings of his mind ruminating as you shook your head no. “Do you love him? Were you really going to marry him?”

The questions caught you off guard. Although at some point you were expecting them, you didn’t think it would be this early in conversation. It might be for the better if it got out of the way as soon as possible, so you could explain yourself.

The first cut would be the deepest, although the rest would still hurt.

“I love the idea of him,” you emphasized, ashamed of yourself for giving in to such fantasy. “I thought I could love him the way I did you, that he could be a vessel of my love for you. That I could, for a few days, remember how it felt— how you felt. That I could have you one more time,” you paused and sighed, intertwining your hands together to twist them nervously. “I only met him a week ago, marriage did not cross my mind at all. I was going to leave once—”

“Once it got too serious,” he finished for you.

Marcus went quiet again, his eyes transfixed on you. You wished Juno blessed you with the ability to read minds, to know what he was thinking right this moment. Did he hate you for what you just revealed? Did he think you were sick for trying to live out a fleeting dream? Would he forgive you for such despicable behaviour?

“Do you still love me?” his gravelly voice was so low, for a moment you thought you had imagined it.

But the doubt, the fresh hurt in his wounded gaze, told you otherwise.

You gaped for air, your lungs strained with sorrow. You should fib, stand by your initial lie, tell him you didn’t. But what had that gotten you the first time around except for a life of misery and loneliness? What had that gotten him?

“I do. I do love you, Marcus,” you whispered, out of breath due to the pounding of your heart. “Couldn’t be any other way. You’re the other half of my soul that I’ve been missing for so long.”

Time stilled as you looked Marcus dead in the eyes. You were not expecting anything out of your raw confession, because the time for those had passed. It was what you should have said thirty-five years ago, not now. You were too late to mend the love that had slipped through the cracks of time.

“Then that’s all that matters,” he finally broke the silence, his voice laced with emotion.

The admission shook you. Could this be true, really happening? Did he still love you after all this time?

In a couple of strides, you found yourself in his arms, the way it should have been ages ago. His forearms wrapped around you like a warm blanket as his head bowed down to taste your lips.

You kissed him back, first sweetly, then fiercely. You kissed him with all the unexpressed love you held in your heart, with the passion your true love deserved. His tongue was as sweet as you remembered, as soothing as your memory recalled. A dance ensued, his tongue reading a love letter to yours.

Your hands, which had been resting on his chest, drifted up to cradle his face — his moustache and stubble pickling the skin of your palms. Marcus untied his mouth from yours to kiss your tears goodbye, then pressed a peck on your forehead. His heart was beating as loud as yours, in unison like true soulmates.

“I’ve missed you. I never stopped thinking about you, lux mihi,” he confessed under his breath. “Life was never the same after you left.”

His admission made your heart flutter even further, and you couldn’t help but let your hands roam his back. Your fingers played with the knot holding the toga in place, his seeping warmth beckoning.

“I need you, Marcus. Make love to me,” you pleaded, leaving a love trail of kisses on his neck.

Marcus’ chest rumbled at your plea, his lips hunting down yours in a heartbeat. His hands were quick with your clothing, worshipping the curves of your body as it was revealed to him. You did the same with his toga, until you were both bare, standing in front of each other.

You saw his eyes lingering on every nook and cranny of your skin before they found yours. A thunder of connection ran through you, of yearning. On your tiptoes, you kissed him again, pressing your breasts onto his chest while your fingertips traced the map of his back.

You didn’t expect all the bumps and grooves you found on his skin; battle scars dotted around everywhere. Some thick and protuberant, some thin and soft. Marcus keened at your touch, silently letting you know that some of them were too sensitive to be caressed.

How much hurt his body and heart had endured, a life dedicated to war and duty. Your heart cried for him, for not being able to be by his side when he needed you most. Had you taken up his offer, had he run away from responsibility with you, his skin would tell a different story.

But the past couldn’t be changed, only the present was malleable enough to shape a new future.

Slowly he pushed you towards the bed, his hands resting on either side of your waist while his thumb drew lazy circles on your bristled skin. Raking your fingers through his silver curls, you leaned back on the mattress, his warm body blanketing yours.

His hands found the apex of your breasts, soft fingers rubbing your taut nipples as your head tilted back. Marcus licked the salt of your exposed neck, finding your pulse point. He kissed the spot and lingered, your vein pulsing against his lips as one of his hands discovered the slick your thighs harboured for him.

The feathery caress of his ring finger outlining your seam turned you into a whimpering mess. His pad stroked your nub, a slight flick followed before it slid down your slit and found your weeping hole. He circled it a few times, taunting you effortlessly, before returning to your clit.

You heaved, lips pursed so your moans would stay contained. In the dead of the night, you worried this show of love would seep through the walls. But not even the thought of his marriage, the thought of Magnus lying in bed a few rooms over, could stop you from joining your bodies together the way the Gods intended.

Marcus’ mouth travelled down the column of your neck, kissing the center of your clavicle before he went further down. Your unattended nipple was soon enough smothered by the wetness between his lips, and you fisted his hair in response, gently tugging at it.

“Marcus,” you moaned, eyes shut. Rejoiced.

One nipple drowned in his spit, the other pinched between his fingers, and his ring finger pressing tight circles on your thudding clit had you fighting to remain silent. But the moment the hand between your hands moved down and his digit teased your walls apart as it sank in your slick warmth, you couldn’t stop the muffled yet loud moan.

“Sing for me, meum corculum (my little heart),” Marcus husked. The gentle pumping of his finger in your wet heat had you quietly howling a few seconds later. “That’s it.”

Your felt your walls contract, pulse around his finger, holding onto him for dear life. Feeling your need as his own, Marcus dunked his middle finger in your pussy too, stretching you while his thumb stroked your clit. The combination of it all made you clench around him, almost begging for release.

“Let go for me,” Marcus asked between licks, and you couldn’t resist his prayer.

The coil that had been tightening inside you finally snapped, releasing a wave that coursed through your quaking body like a tumultuous sea. Your back slightly arched as your thighs trembled around his forearm, chest rising with a dire need for oxygen.

Marcus chuckled softly, setting your nipple free as he searched for your mouth again. He devoured you as you came down from your high, his erect cock gently resting on your mound. The weight of it on your sensitive skin felt like it belonged. The anticipation of welcoming him inside you made you gush.

“Let me drink you, kiss you, savour you,” he pressed a kiss on your mouth after each pause.

Your skin flushed; the proposition was somewhat indecent. It was lewd, frowned upon, and you were tethered to the chains of social decency. But there was nothing decent about infidelity, after all.

“Please, mea vita (my life). I can make you reach for the moon and the stars in the ceiling above if you let me, make you touch them,” he promised.

You shyly nodded, and his boyish grin grew wider, his lips tensing. So contagious, you smiled back as he came off you and moved your body until your butt was on the edge of the mattress.

He scooted you over towards him until the back of your knees were resting on his shoulders — leaving you completely exposed to his hungry gaze. His eyes lingered on your leaking dampness, his dilated pupils tracing the outline of your seam. The intensity of it all, the deep connection, made your thighs press together against his neck, wanting to hide your core from him.

You had nothing to be shy of, as Marcus had already seen you bare before. Sex with him had always been ardent, fervent — the heat of passion always got the best of you both, a certain urgency to consummate your love. But now? Now was different. There was no rush in his movements, in how his thumbs pried your pussy lips open, in how his warm lips brushed the sensitive skin on your inner thigh. His calm confidence in taking you as he had promised was new to you, who never had all the time in the world. But right now, you did. For Marcus, you did. Always would.

Your lashes fluttered, kissing the apples of your cheeks the moment the languid strokes of his tongue met your swollen flaps. He kissed one gently, then the other, before the wet muscle lapped from your gushing hole up to your clit. So venerating were his licks, your limbs relaxed at the intimate kiss.

“You taste like ambrosia, lux mihi. The best relish I have ever been graced with,” his hot breath collided with the cold skin on your slit, your body trembling in response.

“Marcus, please,” you begged, although you were not sure why, or what you were asking of him.

He didn’t leave you waiting again. His fingers sank in the flesh of your thighs while his tongue dived inside your slick furrow. So dextrous were his charges, you couldn’t help but mewl like a starved kitten in a back alley asking for leftovers. First, he flicked your excited bundle of nerves, and then he suckled on it, his jaw working you through the climb to another orgasm. The buildup was intense, but it became feverish the moment his finger joined the action — it slid easily inside, curled to caress the precise spongy spot of your arousal.

Unaware of your own actions, one of your hands slithered down your belly until you fisted his curls — pushing him towards the centre of your heat, not away from it. He hadn’t lied — the stars appeared behind your eyes, bright like the future you wished you had with him. A sea of constellations, all imploding at once in an amazing rain of stars that blinded you as you came crashing down from the skies.

You heaved and wailed his name in ecstasy, your entire body quivering with the strength of a thousand suns. Your entrance clenched around his finger as you held your breasts, your thumbs ghosting the taut buttons. You leaked your pleasure on his mouth, and he drank unashamedly, grateful of your offering.

A sweet kiss on your mound before he towered over you, and you could only look at him in awe with raw, true love. When his battered body blanketed yours, you draped your arms around his waist, hands lightly resting on his lower back. The knowing smirk on his lips spoke of a muted “I told you so.”

“I love you,” he whispered instead.

Your heart swooned and healed and cried and exploded. All at once. He hadn’t said those exact words yet, but they were veiled in every sentence, every action he had said or done tonight. Deep inside you were eternally grateful that he hadn’t grown to hate you, that his love for you remained intact despite heartache, circumstances and time.

Unbeknownst to you, tears welled up, ones that Marcus drank too. As he did, your palms stroked his ribs, careful to avoid the scars you had come to learn were too delicate. Eager, one slid off his skin until your fingers wrapped around his throbbing manhood. Eyes down, you saw the pearly bead of pre-cum commending you to butter it on his flushed head. With your thumb you caressed the tip, and Marcus’ lips parted in need — an invitation you quickly accepted, dunking your tongue in his mouth.

A few pumps had him groaning and soon enough you were guiding him to the pocket of heat between your thighs. His cockhead kissed your gushing entrance the same way his lips did — knowing, denuded, possessing. And slowly he made his way in, parting your flesh like a new stream disturbing the earth beneath. The burning sting was most welcomed, blossoming into a fullness you had craved for decades.

“I’m home,” Marcus rasped when he was fully seated in your cunt.

Your throat clamped a little, emotion overtaking your senses the same way his erection did.

“Welcome home, dilectus (beloved),” you muttered with a loving smile and teary eyes.

You melted into a slow kiss as Marcus rocked his hips, rutting into you almost lethargically, wanting the moment to last. You let him set the pace, the drag of his cock in your pussy a delight that had you reaching for the stars again and your inner walls squeezing him tight. The sweet rhythm of his swaying tightened the slick, hot coil that pooled low in your belly, and the moment Marcus gained momentum, you followed.

Needily he started fucking into you with precision, chasing both of your highs. His dick pulsed inside you, your heartbeat instinctually adapting to his in a second. Both so close to the sky above, gasping for air now, you rocked underneath him to amplify such pleasure.

“Marcus,” you whimpered, your hands now cradling his face. You lost yourself in his eyes, blown and loving. “Please, inside,” was everything you murmured.

Even after your petition, the snap of his hips against yours didn’t falter. Instead, the pace increased as his wild orbs studied your blissed out expression.

“Do you mean it?” You nodded effusively. “Do you want your belly round with my child?”

You didn’t even know if it was possible — yes, you looked young but were closer to a hundred and fifty years on this earth than to the day you were born. The fertility of your womb was one you never dared to test in your immortal life, but the thought of having such a memory—someone—to remember him by when the days grew cold and the nights dark was overpowering reality.

“Yes, I do,” you reassured him, pecking his lips softly.

His head fell, his face resting on the crook of your neck, while he made love to you. His moves stuttered, announcing his climax, and your pussy hugged him tight in a natural response. The moment the first ropes hit your cervix, you came undone too. As Marcus filled you with his warm spent, you creamed around his beating girth, your hands holding onto his shoulders as your back arched and your nipples kissed his chest.

It took both of you a few minutes to come down, for the haze of lovemaking to slowly dissolve in the musky air. Marcus hungered for your lips and he hunted them down with eagerness. Your bodies finally untied, his cock leaving you empty yet satisfied.

You hoped—prayed—his seed would take root in your womb. Even if it was impossible, the sliver of a miraculous possibility gave you a resemblance of hope. So you pressed your thighs together, greedy of his gift.

Marcus rolled off you, falling onto his tummy besides you. Quickly you laid on your side, your fingertips tracing the lines of his skin again. A feathery touch to alleviate the harshness of life. He unburied his face from the pillow and turned to look at you.

His smile was instant, and so was yours.

For an hour no words were spoken at all, no sleep was achieved either. You both remained silent, staring at each other, soaking up the love that flooded the chamber.

Replacing your fingers with your lips, you kissed the scars on his back, his shoulders, his arms. And finally his nose and cheek, where you dawdled as if your caress could erase the pain they inflicted.

“What are we going to do, amica mea?” Marcus husked after what felt like an eternity.

Reality set in, leaving a gaping hole in your belly. What could you do? Would you be strong enough to stay by his side for however long the goddess Mors took to claim him? Strong enough to build a life you knew was ephemeral? And once he was gone from this mortal plane, what would be left of you?

The choice was an impossible one. One that you should have made decades ago, when the heart was whole and the mind still strong. Now you knew how arduous life was without him, how—for years—you had looked for him in the small details and every single man who resembled him, how the regret and the grief haunted you at every turn of a decade. Now you knew that life wasn’t worth living if you didn’t have Marcus to share it with.

You traced the profile of his nose with your lips before pressing a soft kiss on his.

“I am not sure, but I am willing to try… if you are,” you whispered, leaning back.

The implications of such life were huge for him. Married, with a son who though himself in love with you, an acclaimed General who served Rome even when Rome didn’t serve him. His responsibilities were greater than yours, Marcus had so much to lose. Had you accepted his proposal when you should have, neither of you would be in such dire situation.

Marcus sighed heavily, rolling onto his side to face you. His calloused hand cradled your cheek, his eyes filled with a determination you wished you had back then, when life was easier.

“There is nothing nor no one that could stop me from spending the rest of my life with you, lux mihi,” he mumbled, hand dropping to your hip. “I said it then, and I will say it again: I do not care for this life if you are not with me. I don’t care about reputation nor retaliation. For over fifty years I have done what was expected of me, and I am done living my life for Rome and her vice. You’re the stars that light up my path in the darkest of nights, the warm sun that guides me home. For however long you’ll have me, I’ll be with you. My heart was always yours, mea vita, since the moment I landed eyes on you. And I don’t want it back, ever, even if you have to leave again.”

The softness of his delivery, the truth his words emanated, brought tears to your eyes. You thought yourself unworthy of his love, his devotion, when you had only caused heartbreak. But this was your second chance, one you were not going to let go.

You moved closer to him as his arm wrapped around you. With your forehead resting on his naked chest, you traced invisible lines on his ribs.

“I won’t leave. That broke me once, can’t handle it a second time. I love you and want to spend the rest of our time together showing you how much I do, making up for lost time. For however long,” you repeated, kissing his chin.

There was a brief pause, and you knew what his next words would be.

“How old are you?” the question you had always avoided, dreaded.

“Close to three times your age,” you confessed, looking up at him through your lashes.

The answer slowly sank in, but instead of horror, incomprehension and disgust, you only found acceptance. As if it was just another fact about you, nothing of major importance.

“You look amazing for being close to one hundred and fifty years of age,” he joked with a grin to lighten the mood. You let out a soft laugh in response. “How? If you want to share.”

The story of how you came to be ageless wasn’t a pleasant one. But your life was full of secrets that had ruined every human link you had to this earth, and you wouldn’t let them spoil the only real connection you had left.

“I… I was promised to a man, one who I thought was worthy of my love. There were things I was blind to at that time, and only time showed them to me. I thought everything was going as expected, he was always so courteous and respectful in public. Until our wedding night, when he…” you paused, the memories too painful even after all this time, “he abused me, and let his friends use me. When they were done, they left me for dead in a ditch.”

Marcus’ arm draped around you tighter, his heart beating so loud you could hear it thumping against his chest. He hugged you close, his warmth calming and reassuring. Marcus was nothing like that man, if your abuser could even be considered a person. You knew he never would be so despicable — you were as sure as the first lights of the sun would wake you up tomorrow.

“It took me hours to finally drift away. And when I did, Juno greeted me. Said the man had wronged me, and that I should have a second chance to understand what marriage and true love actually were about. Then she touched me right here,” you caressed the peacock-shaped birthmark, “and breathed life into me.”

Marcus leaned back a little to inspect your torn features. The heartache he had to endure paled in comparison to yours. How could someone inflict such hurt on another? He couldn’t even fathom such disgusting scenario. That man was the reincarnation of evil, and he wished he suffered the most agonising death.

He had only seen your soul’s purity, your kindness, your benevolence. Anyone who didn’t was blind.

“You did not deserve that ending, amica mea — no one does. He didn’t deserve you,” his heart cried for you, for the weight you had carried for over a century. “You’ve got the purest heart I have ever known. A soul that I will protect until my dying breath.”

“A half soul,” you interrupted him, and Marcus looked at you confused. “Because your other half completes mine.”

His heart jolted, this time because of the sweetness of your confession. That muscle had grown bigger in the last two hours than in his entire lifetime. He sworn himself to stand by your side, come what may. You would never be wronged again, not if he could avoid it.

“We’re leaving tonight,” Marcus declared without skipping a beat.

“What? What about your wife, your son?” your eyes had widened, but his resolution was firm.

“My wife… she’s not been my wife for years. She’s poison. And my son…” he shrugged, conflicted. “He’ll eventually understand, or so I hope. I believe he might already have an inkling that something weird was at play from the moment I said your real name.”

“Marcus, are you sure? You’d be sacrificing so much for me, I wouldn’t want to—”

He didn’t let you finish, his mouth covering yours in a passionate kiss that slowly turned gentle and soothing. Your hands caressing his battle-scarred skin was like a balm; your touch the first and only one to cure all his ailments. Unhurriedly, he sat back up on the bed, dragging you with him.

“Let’s leave now. I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life with you, lux mihi,” Marcus purred against your lips.

Fifteen minutes later, you were both clothed and atop of two horses, blending in with the shadows of the night that concealed your departures, in search of a new life. Together.

taglist: @orcasoul @lilac-boo @picketniffler @almostfoxglove @gothcsz @liciafonseca @namenotimportant1373

[lalalunel]

Game Movie Night

lowkey.. based on this twt link .... it had to be done i fear

wc: 1406

cw: leon and reader are perpetually horny, lil tit gropping, dry humping, lil overstimulation, cum-stained clothes (gross)

enjoy?

Movie night never just ends when the movie does, no matter how much you and Leon say it will. 

Cuddled up with a bowl of popcorn and other various snacks and your drink of choice, you two get through the first two movies with little to no interruption. But sitting still so close has never been a good idea for you two. The same couple who could barely keep from sucking each other’s faces off after only being apart for 2 hours. 

It starts with an innocent kiss against your temple from Leon, his hand on your waist drifting to your hip and then just a bit lower, your hand suddenly resting comfortably on his thigh. It starts off innocent, yet it never stays that way for long.

You’re halfway through the third movie when you feel Leon’s thigh shift beneath your hand. It’s a sudden shift forward so he can lean back, that ends with your hand just shy of the.. tent in his pants. Well that wasn’t there before. 

Your eyes trail from his very apparent hard-on to his face. He’s staring forward at the TV as if nothing was amiss, but you notice the unmistakable red hue that graces his ears, the way he bites the inside of his cheek. You know him. 

You decide to play along if he wants to play the ‘I'm hard for you but I'm not going to show it because it's movie night’ game. You’re so damn good at that game, so it's no skin off your back as you slide your hand to rest completely over the tent in his pants, palming him almost as you snuggle comfortably into his side and ‘watch’ the movie. 

You know your touch has an effect on him from the way he stiffens, his grip on your hip flexing. You can see Leon look down at you out of the corner of your eye, yet you pay the attention no mind. This is a game of playing it cool, isn’t it? 

Leon catches on to what you’re getting at pretty quickly and decides he won’t be shown up in a game he started. His hand, which had been resting basically on your ass before, slides up. He slips his hand under your arm and your shirt to cup your left tit. Maybe that affected him more than you though. 

You weren’t wearing a bra. Of course you weren’t wearing a bra, you were in your own place and comfortable watching a movie with your boyfriend. It made sense, but god did it make him twitch in his boxers all the same to feel it hand first- first hand. Oops. Same thing. 

He isn’t shy about it as he tenderly massages the soft mound, his thumb brushing over your nipple over and over until it hardens under his ministrations. It brings him a different sense of pride when you tense, relax, and let out a string of curses under your breath, trying hard to act like it didn’t feel as good as it did. 

You return his groping by fully palming your hand against his dick, feeling the outline of his length through his sweatpants. His grip on you flexes and he swears softly as his eyes slip shut for a beat. You’re suddenly struck by a realization that makes this all seem really stupid. 

You both don’t even know (or care about) what movie you’re watching, and you’re both really horny. What does it matter if you get a little (or a lot more than a little) touchy?

Leon seems to be struck by the same realization as he mutters a ‘fuck this’ and loosens his grip on your tit, instead hooking a hand under your thigh to pull you onto his lap. He wastes absolutely no time in grinding you down against his hard on, pulling a moan from you and him as he nudges firmly against your clit through your thin shorts from the motion. 

He repeats the motions over and over again sharply, swearing as he tips his head back against the couch and bites his lip, feeling dizzy from the pleasure. His fingers dig into your hips, surely leaving his hand print in the form of bruises from how tightly he’s holding on to you. 

You can’t bring yourself to care about the pain when everytime he pulls your hips, he rocks his own up against you, giving you the friction you wanted in large enough doses to make everything seem like nothing. The dull ache is a little added bonus if you really think about it anyway.

The friction, while good for a while, just isn’t enough though. Feeling Leon through his sweatpants and your shorts, while so damn good, just isn’t enough. 

Leon sure seemed to feel the same way when he’s reluctantly lifting your hips away from his and working your shorts off your legs. It’s clumsy, and you can’t stop yourself from giggling when he mutters about how you should never wear clothes again if it takes this much effort to take off, but he does eventually get the stupid shorts off. He’s met with the delightful reward of seeing you in your panties, and he has to fight the urge to come in his boxers when he catches sight of the wet patch that graced the front of them.

He’s all caught up in admiring the sight (and thinking about what you taste like) when he feels you tugging at his sweats, tugging down the waistband to expose his boxers. If you couldn’t straight up bounce on his cock (mainly because you’re both a little too lazy at the moment), at least you could grind on each other with minimal clothing. 

Nothing like a little dry humping to spice up movie night, right? 

He eagerly leans back as he pulls your hips down against his again, hissing softly when he pulls you down in that same grinding motion from before and you both buck in response. Fuck, just a few layers less and it feels like heaven. 

Over and over and over and over again, he drags your hips in a hard roll against his stiff cock, driven utterly insane by how good it feels and how sweet you sound moaning in pleasure, leaning in towards him so the head of his cock nudges more consistently against your clit, pulling even more moans from your lips and his.

His mind feels blank as his grip tightens on you, pulling you faster against him as a pit forms deep in his stomach. He can’t take it. His boxers grow damp from all the friction with your soaked panties, though he’s sure his precum is also the source of the wetness. Lube source aside, It’s getting harder and harder for either of you to resist the burning heat flooding your stomachs. 

You’re the first to cave to the pressure, head dropping forward against Leon’s shoulder as your body tenses, your thighs shaking lightly as your body throbs. A string of curses follow your orgasm as Leon keeps your hips in motion against him. 

He mutters a low string of praise against your ear, something along the lines of ‘fuck, you feel so good baby’ and ‘m so close, gonna come so hard’. It all melts together in your mind when he’s still rutting against your throbbing and aching clit, overstimulating you as he chases his own orgasm using your body. 

He doesn’t hold you pleasure-hostage for much longer when he’s suddenly bucking up sharply against you, groaning lowly as his cock throbs and twitches in his boxers as he finishes and he finally lets you still. 

You spend just a moment laying against each other, catching your breath and trying to let the fog pass from your minds. The forgotten movie fills the silence along with your breathing, a sudden burst of clown music jolting you from the post-coital haze and making you laugh a little.

Leon can’t help cracking a smile as well, though the moment of amusement was cut short when you shifted and immediately reminded both you and him of the sticky mess you now had to attend to. Cold, cum-stained panties/boxers are a sensory nightmare, and a shower is in the cards for you both. Showering together to fix the mess wouldn’t hurt..

Made the mess together, might as well clean up in the shower together too, right?

~~~

actually made with re4 Leon in mind for once (maybe also DI leon tho...)

[aporatael]

...

Who’d want to waste spacetime on anything else?

“Do you only take people along with you just to convince yourself that you’re not selfish?” I ask, interested. “Or do you normally take children - no, not children, children would argue - but fuckable young people, I bet. Girls, mostly. In their twenties, I bet. Because they’ll just smile and agree and compromise.”

“That’s very rude,” the Doctor says, startled. “Like. Wow. Seriously?”

“Is it true? Eohippus.”

“Not true at all. Pliohippus.”

“Pliohippus comes just before Equus, you quack.”

“Why do you even care? They’re not like they’re real horses. Just a generic beetlin’-around, weird little spotty beastie paddin’ around like a long-legged boring badger. D’yiu want to see some real proper horses, alien ones? I know a race of them with blue shiny wing cases and six genders. Caste system based entirely on the production and rating of poetry - ”

“Oh, they’re spotted?” I cry happily. “Wait, you’ve seen them?”

“All they do is run about on the forest floor, eatin’… fruit.”

“Fruit?”

“I don’t know. Boring things. They don’t even neigh. Just trundle around like guinea pigs.”

“Doctor,” I say eventually, pondering this, “you like horses, don’t you.”

“Absolutely not,” the Doctor says. “I only humour you to keep the peace. And it isn’t bloody working.”

“You like horses. Let’s meet the first ones. Again. And do it properly. Look them in the eye and see the spark of the kinship - see if we can feel the deep emotional connection of the bond-”

“What bond is that?” The Doctor says, but - hahahaha. I’ve got him. The Doctor is such a horse girl.

“The deep emotional connection of the kinship between horses - well, horse-shaped things - and humans. Well. Human-shaped things. Is it still there? Did it start there? When you look in the eyes of Eohippus, will you feel it?”

“Feel what?”

“The thing you feel when you look at horses,” I say. “Excitement and adventure and potential and wonder, the desire to love and be loved by it, a thousand wishes, and the feeling of being there at the dawn of the world.”

“We could just go to the Big Bang -”

“I didn’t say the Big Bang. I said the dawn of the world. It’s different. Are they horses? Will you feel the same way with Eohippus? Is the feeling there?”

“Rubbish!” says the Doctor, looking hot and bothered, and setting the coordinates.

Of course it does escalate from there, with running and shouting and aliens (seeking to stripmine the earth’s resources before there were humans to defend it; quite a good plan honestly; genuinely can’t work out why they aren’t all trying that?) but I don’t care; I’m sitting on the forest floor with Eohippus in my arms, having decided that there’s nothing stopping me from doing so; at the dawn of the world.

“NOT the Big Bang,” I say again, as the Doctor squats down beside me. “The dawn of the world.”

And we are quiet for a while.

“Wow,” the Doctor says eventually.

“Yeah.”

“They really are all in there. All the horses that ever were and will be. In that little eye. It’s a kind eye,” he announces, as horse girls do when they mean to compliment a horse with few other notable positives. “And that’s where it all starts.”

“Yeah.”

“Bellerophon and Secretariat and Arthur - I had a horse called Arthur.”

“What happened to him?”

“Gave him back. Can’t keep a horse in the TARDIS.”

“Keep this one,” I say impulsively.

“You know we can’t.”

“… can we clone it?”

Something Doctor Who misses out on is how none of the companions are extremely interested with any one thing. All the companions are all “idk, I have a few ideas of stuff that’d be cool to see, but I’m up for whatever! All of space and time, woohoo! :)”

And that’s great for them and I know it makes for a better show overall but I think it would be more realistic for someone to say “I want to see every historically significant moment for my special interest, and then I want to double back for mundane bits too.”

I, for example, would be an insufferable companion.

I’d be like, “okay now take me to the place and time where they first used stirrups for the whole ride instead of just using them as a foothold to mount the horse. Then I want to watch Ray Hunt put a first ride on a colt. After that we’ll take a nap, and then let’s sneak onto set of the Return of the King to be extras in the Ride of the Rohirrim”

The Doctor would be all “please. This is the twentieth horse-centric stop in a row. We have all of space available to us. Can we leave Earth this time I’m begging you”

And my annoying ass would go “not unless there’s horses in space” roll credits

[acciocriativity]

->You're hyper independent || Ateez Reactions || Hyung Line

Genre: fluff, angst (because of the theme on itself), slice of life AU

Warnings: NONE

N/A: This is a very real trauma response that real people have. However, I tried to keep it light, humorous, and focus on the support and love the reader received from the boys in different contexts instead of the actual trauma triggering situation that cause the trauma response. If I, in any way, offend people who have this trauma response, I'm open to learning and editing this, if necessary.

N/A ²: This is a gender neutral! reader.

Ateez Masterlist

Kim Hongjoong (김홍중): You don’t let him pay for you, and he’s helpless

On your very first date with Hongjoong, just as casually as he wiped out his card to pay for the meal, you wiped out yours. That day, he learned you were as hardheaded as he was, which was an interesting surprise. There was no dance of “Oh, I pay. No, it’s okay, I can pay. No, I insist. Oh, if you insist, then…” as he imagined at first. If you said you were going to pay, then you would do so. In the end, you both agreed to slip the bill even.

That was a common occurrence at the beginning of your relationship, a spit-even bill no matter the cost of the meal or whatever you were doing together.

It wasn’t like he was flaunting his money, nor did he want to offend you in any way, which you didn’t think was the case, thank God. It just became second nature for him to be attentive to those around him, and if he had an opportunity to do something nice for people he cared about, why would he not? Why wouldn’t you let him? You thought he was adorable when he vented that to you on a 1 A.M. something call, like those thoughts plagued his dreams or something. You liked your man a little dramatic like that.

There were times when it was a given that he bought something for the two of you, and then you made sure to put your money on something else for you both that same day. He thought you would rather keep things “separated” at that stage, where things were uncertain, to not create any kind of “debts” with each other, it seemed, although he didn’t agree with that trail of thoughts at all, and it was a bit offensive to him. First, because he’d never be the type of man to expect anybody to owe him anything after dinner, and second, because he hadn’t any doubts about the relationship.

His suspicions weren’t that far off, honestly. You said plainly you rather avoid any discomfort or expectations at this stage of your relationship with him, and he could sleep well because you knew how caring he was even if he wasn’t the one paying for you.

It was lovely for him to know what you thought of him. A simple phrase made his day, and if that was your answer, then he wouldn’t push it. Even if he was desperate to know what those discomforts were for you and if they happened frequently in the past.

For now, he’d gladly wait for you while you met in the middle, even if he feels a little helpless.

Park Seonghwa (박성화): he isn’t allowed to baby you like you baby him, but mama raised no bitch

It wasn’t a rule per se, but the only 3 times he ever tried to baby you during your one-year relationship like you usually do with him, two of them made you almost become physically ill, and the last of them, you were, in fact, ill.

He never thought karma would hit him as hard as it did when he met you for the first time. His tsundere exterior was nothing compared to yours. It felt like he encountered another version of himself, one that he lost to instantly. It was safe to say your charm wasn’t cuteness. It was how attentive you were, how you cared for anyone around you in a quiet and practical way, and how you were honest above all. You were reliable, steady, and so so warm with those you cared for. He was down bad before he could say the word “tsundere”.

The first time was a mistake, almost an instinct. It wasn’t rare for you to be cute unintentionally, but just as much as one shouldn’t make any sudden noise to not scare a grumpy cat away after it laid near, he should not have cooed and pinched your cheeks while you tried some of his stew at a dinner night at his house, the first of many.

He didn’t move, his arms hurt from the position he was in. The sheer astonishment on your face made him freeze, but there was no way of reversing time. There was no running from this. It was done. He feared for his life as you slowly processed what was happening to you.

It was clear how deeply you disliked it, even if you didn’t say so, and Seonghwa always prided himself on being a great boyfriend, so he kept that in mind to never do it again.

But he is just a man at the end of the day, a very, very weak man, and your cheeks are really, really perfect to pinch. Still, he chose his battles carefully, and the last two attempts were successful because you always let him off the hook without much of anything. In all honesty, he was the cutest and childlike one in the relationship even if he didn’t show it after first, and you fell hard for that side of him. The way his pretty brown eyes shined with mischief whenever he got away with calling you cute or cooing at you melted your heart on the spot, so you let him.

If it was anyone else, you’d run as far as you could from whoever it was, even your own parents. You were just not a touchy person at all, because maybe you grew up without people giving that kind of love to you then, but you got used to it from Seonghwa. Of course, it was best if he never knew how much power he actually had, so you let him fear for his life for a moment or two.

Unfortunately, Seonghwa was a cute, silly man, but he was your cute, silly man.

Jeong Yunho (정윤호): You don’t ask him for help, but what else can he do with his acts of service love language?

You two have been friends for a good while now, that kind of friend who everyone thought would amount to something else yet never did. The time to risk for something more was the night you two met, but neither of you took any action then. Now, you two had a good friendship, and that was more than enough for both of you.

Yunho couldn’t lie and say he hadn’t thought of what ifs with you in the past, but in his mind, you were never interested in him like this, so the whole thing was pointless. You didn’t seem interested in a romantic relationship then just as much as you don’t now, and he was fine with it.

You had a nice future ahead of you. A lot of your time was spent on building a good curriculum for college and then a solid career for yourself in a predominantly male industry. It was a rough path, sometimes you wondered if that was the right choice or not, doubted your own capabilities because your colleagues did so all the time, but at the end of the day you had amazing people to remind you who you were, you had Yunho. Sometimes, you wondered if he was a mind reader of sorts.

You dreaded the simple thought of looking weak, even if it was something as little as asking for some space to vent. You grew up with the mindset that any kind of vulnerability was bad, which wasn’t healthy for you at all, but it feels like it’s too late to change, even if you want to. However, the thing about Yunho is that he’d never allow you to ask for anything because he hands you anything you might need.

Did you need someone to distract you after a rough day of work? That’s a given. His silly memes and TikTok’s were waiting for your reply. Oh, you actually needed space for yourself? It’s ok. He’s got the hint quickly, and he’d leave you be with a simple encouraging message to remind you to rest and contact him the next day.

The good stuff came when you had your weekend free because he remembered you wanted to shop for a new couch, and given the amount of work, it’d be great to have a helping hand, right? Oh, it’s rot-in-bed day instead? Well, it's a good thing he’s versatile.

You never really asked for an all-in-one man, but you got him anyway, so better enjoy it!

Kang Yeosang (강여상): You’re the only person he choose to chase and God forbid if that ever reaches San’s ears

He’s an idol, he’s been in this industry for almost a decade, so he understood being busy, and this overwhelming need to isolate yourself and forget about everything else outside your room. The key difference is that he couldn’t do that much. However, that seemed to be your favorite way to cope lately. It was a lose-lose for him because if you were not locked away in your own world, then you were busy with a million other things.

You’re the only friend from his childhood he still has a relatively stable relationship because of how close in stages of life you two always have been, even now, both working in very different industries.

It has been like this since the very beginning. You two always aimed to be something in the future when you were kids. What you two would be was a different question, and neither was ready to answer. In the teen years, Yeosang got his answer while you worked hard to get into a good college, hoping to find yours when you got there. That could’ve been the end of the friendship, but you were both so aligned still that it could only be fate. He took a chance at a smaller company, and you decided to study something different than you had imagined for yourself. You both had similar struggles, doubts, and accomplishments around the same time. It was a running joke at this point.

He had to remind himself of that sweet part so he wouldn’t lose it the moment you actually picked up his calls. He knew lately it’s been tough for you. Only you chose not to speak about it and went right into your suffer-alone mode.

The upsetting part of all this was the fact that these were your vacation days, you earned them and he wouldn’t be Kang Yeosang if he’d let you waste it in bed all day after he heard for months all about the places you wanted to go. It was a coincidence the fact that he also recently got some free days for himself.

He was nice enough. He gave you a last heads-up that he was coming. In another life, he could say he wasn’t taking no for an answer, but you wouldn’t say no to him in this lifetime.

It’s only been a while since he was slightly concerned with this “on my own” approach to coping with the pain because you decided not to include him in it. The why he didn’t know, neither was he interested in it. But looking back, you’ve always acted like this, like a little fortress of sorts, like you had to be strong for all to see and this was the first time he was taking an action against it.

[billiereid]

Toys: Haikyuu!! x Reader

Warnings: Rated X. This content is intended for readers ages 18 years or older. Minors, do not interact.

Featuring: Toru Oikawa. Hajime Iwaizumi. Wakatoshi Ushijima. Satori Tendo. Fem!Reader.

Contains: Phone sex. Dom/sub dynamics. Begging. Voyeurism / Exhibitionism. Use of vibrators and/or dildos. Overstimulation. Sadist!Tendo. Mention of penetrative sex.

Summary: The subject of toys in the bedroom can be controversial. Everyone seems to have their own opinions, especially when their partner is involved. Here's how I think some of the Haikyuu!! men would feel about their female partner having a toy.

Author's Note: This is written post-timeskip. All characters are written to be adults.

Toru Oikawa

He was the person suggesting them in the first place.

Oikawa is away for his volleyball games all the time. So the two of you picked out a couple to use while he’s away. 

When you’re together, he loves watching you get desperate with a vibrator on your clit.

And when he’s away, he has a hard time keeping his hands off himself when he hears you over the phone. 

The squelch of your hot, sticky, wet pussy. Your soft moans. 

And there are a few things you can say to get him really desperate and needy, all for you. 

“Please, Toru,” you whimpered into the phone, tucked between your cheek and the pillow. “Need more… Iss not enough…” Your words were slurred, but Oikawa heard them all the same. He could hear the buzzing of a vibrator in the background. He knew which one it was, of course.

Toru’s voice shook as he spoke, and you knew he was stroking himself vigorously. “Aw, sweet girl,” he cooed, trying to maintain his dominant persona. But when his mind was filled with the sensation of your sweet sex clenching around him, it was hard not to whimper out loud. “It’s not enough? You miss my cock that bad?”

“Yes! Yes, miss you s’much,” you blurted out, your voice getting more and more desperate as the seconds pass. “Wanna come for your cock…”

Oikawa did his best to stifle his voice, but a slutty moan still dripped from his lips as you begged for him. “Oh babygirl,” he groaned. “Don’t worry. When I get home I’m gonna make you come so hard you can’t walk straight.”

Hajime Iwaizumi

He was a little bit intimidated by the fact that you have a toy.

The idea that something besides him could bring you so much pleasure is…

Well…

Disconcerting to him.

But then he walked in on you while you’re using it.

And he was s m i t t e n.

Both of you seemed to be frozen in time.

Iwaizumi was home early from a training session. He wasn’t supposed to be home yet. You were having a little bit of alone time. You hadn’t even heard the front door to your shared apartment open and shut. You didn’t even realize he was home until the door to your shared bedroom swung open, allowing the golden light from the hallway to pour into the dark room.

He saw you then. Wide eyes. Face flushed with pleasure. Wand attached to your clit. Pussy leaking with your arousal. You were frozen in time, startled by seeing him so abruptly in such a vulnerable position.

“Fuck, baby…” he uttered in a whisper, almost a growl. He didn’t dare move yet, wanting to burn this image into his memory for the rest of time. After a moment, he lets his duffle bag fall to the floor and takes a couple of steps toward the bed, eyes trained on your weeping pussy. He couldn’t tear his gaze away, couldn’t bear the thought.

He sat on the bed, roughly tugging his dick free from his shorts and boxers. “Don’t fucking stop,” Hajime uttered quietly, as if being too loud was going to ruin the moment. “I wanna see you come.”

Wakatoshi Ushijima

He enjoys the fact that you have toys.

But he will very rarely use them on you. 

It isn’t that he doesn’t like them, or that he doesn’t want to.

He just doesn’t usually think about it.

But if you ask…

This man will literally do anything you ask.

You had been so unbelievably sweet when you asked. 

Ushijima couldn’t say no to you. Not when you were laid underneath him in just your panties, looking up at him with those eyes… 

And now, here you were, laid underneath him. Your legs were wrapped around his waist. He was buried inside you to the hilt, thrusting slowly. He held a wand to your clit. He could feel the powerful vibrations on his dick. He was desperate now, watching you squirm and whimper under the overwhelming pleasure he was giving you. 

You had come at least four times now, but Wakatoshi wasn’t stopping. In this moment, he was obsessed with the way you twitched underneath him. And that feeling only intensified when your cunt started gushing around his dick.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he groaned, almost mindlessly. “You look so fucking gorgeous like this…”

Satori Tendo

He’s a sadist if I ever did see one.

In all seriousness, he loves toys in the bedroom.

He never does last very long on his own.

So he likes to torture you with toys first, so he can make the moment last as long as possible.

How long had it been? How many times had you already come?

You had lost track. It seemed like hours that you had laid underneath Tendo on the bed. Your squirt covered your thighs, your ass, the sheets beneath you, and Satori’s face and hands. Your eyes were glassy, your face flushed, your legs trembling as you did your best to keep them spread. There was a fresh, red handprint on your inner thigh where he had punished you for letting them fall closed before. 

But he hadn’t lost track. No, he was keeping a very detailed count of how many times you came, how many times you squirted, how many times the pleasure had brought tears to your eyes. Which toys made you come the hardest, which ones made your eyes roll back, which ones made your legs shake, and which ones made you squirt. The selection of toys he had used was spread out on the bed next to you, each one more covered in your slick and come than the last. 

Finally, you watch Tendo take off his boxers. Even with your tired, glassy eyes, you could see how hard it was. It was an angry shade of red, the veins prominent up and down the length. You wondered if it hurt him to be that hard, but he didn’t seem to mind. He lifted your legs over his shoulders, practically bending you in half as he leaned down and whispered in your ear, “You think you can come one more time for me?”

[revelboo]

the recent development with 'everything is alright' has me wondering about king starscream and how... lonely he seems. granted rattrap is there but hes... not much company in stars mind, i think. like dont get me wrong i knew he'd be lonely and a little on the right side of miserable, but that in tandem with the bit about 'dont you know you're home/his future/the one good thing in his life' bit from the last chapter has me!! chokign up a bit cuz damn he really wasnt kidding!!! he got what he wanted but at the cost of still being miserable bc its fuckin LONELY at the top when youre paranoid as all hell with VERY REAL justifications to back said paranoia up!!! god!!!

Yeah, King Star isn’t all that happy. I do like playing with different versions of the same character and just tweaking the circumstances. In Everything is Alright he’s alienated himself from his Trine due to his paranoia, in True Romance he still trusts his Trine and has that relationship, so he’s a lot less paranoid and lonely, in Overdone his Trine just drifted apart. He could have made more of an effort to connect and reach out, but he was so focused on his goals, he didn’t really notice that gap widening until they’re almost strangers to each other

Overdone Pt 2

IDW RID Starscream x Reader

• “You’re weren’t on earth, were you?” He asks when Rattrap gawks at the human in his grip. Striding past, he heads for his private habsuite. Hears Rattrap weakly call out about the reports and he ignores him. They can wait. But you? A human from nowhere plummeting to your death. Closing the door behind himself, he studies you as you cling to his servos. Timid for a spy. “Well?” He growls, depositing you on his desk. “Where did you come from?” Who sent you to spy on him? Wants to know so he can and deliver your broken body to them.

• Falling on your hip, you stare at the big monster and his wings flare out. Trying to say something, anything, when you’re too terrified to make a sound. You’d been driving and then crippling plain had slammed through you, feeling like being torn in two. And then finding yourself somewhere wholly different falling to your death. It’s a nightmare and you can’t wake up. Lip curling, he slams his huge palms down far too close to you and you scream and cringe into a ball. “Speak! Who are you working for?” He roars.

• Pretending at terror? No, venting softly as that acrid shift in your scent registers, he leans back. Not an act. “I don’t know! I don’t know anything!” You cry, little voice broken and terrified and his wings droop slightly. Maybe you’re telling the truth, but you came from somewhere. Humans don’t spontaneously teleport across space and time. Except you apparently had. Servos tapping on the desk, he glares at you and the problem you pose. If you are a spy? An autobot ally sent to undermine him? Why risk your death? If he hadn’t grabbed you, you would have died. Maybe whoever had dropped you meant to see what he’d do and you’re of no importance to them beyond as an expendable pawn?

• “Stop cowering and sniveling,” he growls and you risk a glance at that scowling face, see his optics narrow at you. “If you show your fear, others will use that against you.” Heart hammering against your ribs, you watch him pace around the huge room. And when he’s not looking at you, you can breathe. Try to get your bearings. You have no idea where you are or how you got here, but it had hurt worse than anything you’ve ever felt. Tracking him as he lifts a hand, murmuring, you realize he’s talking to himself at the same time it sinks past the fear that he’d caught you when you’d been falling. He’d saved you.

• Why had he saved you? Because you’re not a monster not matter how much you pretend you are, that annoying, little ghost whispers and he curls his lip. “You know nothing.” Refuses to look, to let his processor trick him with impossible things. Would think maybe you’re a hallucination, too. Except he’d felt your little heart beating against his servos, the warmth of your body in his hands. He’s not mad enough to imagine details like that, yet. Though for you to appear when he was considering not pulling up? Are you a punishment? Drifting back to the desk, his head tips with predatory interest as he rests a servo against your throat and you lay a soft hand on him. You feel real. “Tell me why I shouldn’t rid myself of you. Make me believe you’re no spy.”

Previous

[awardenandacrow]

🌻 Naimeryn “Rook” Thorne is 30 years old. Her birthday was the day of the Ritual. Naimeryn’s birthday has always been a low-fuss affair, acknowledged by those close to her, but there’s never been money for gifts or a cake or anything if the like. She and Varric shared a beer at the bar.

🪻prior to Veilguard, the injuries she sustained fighting Darkspawn in the battle that put her on leave from the Wardens were the most painful, as the head injury was substantial. It left her mostly blind and mostly deaf on her left side. This impacts her interpersonally — she struggles to hear and see people who stand on that side — and in the field, leaving her at a distinct disadvantage from that side. She can be jumpy and appear paranoid, as she takes extra caution to check her surroundings in unfamiliar situations. I’ve written my headcanon most painful injury for her now, during the events of Veilguard — getting blown up by a gaatlock trap Taash inadvertently set off with their fire while on the Fangscorcher mission. Those scars are large and gnarled, and have a hugely negative effect on her self esteem.

🌹 I haven’t written it yet, but the first time Lucanis calls her “beautiful,” they’re going to get into a fight because she won’t believe him. She can wrap her head around, maybe, that he likes her for her, enjoys her as a person, and *maybe* finds her pretty, but ✨beautiful✨? She never expected empty, blatantly untrue flattery from him, and is hurt. Lucanis — with Spite’s help, of course — is gonna have to make a point of spelling out just how all those things she hates about herself are beautiful to him to convince her… and get forgiveness.

🌸 Naimeryn is an only child, and she’s always been kept at arm’s length — or, perhaps, kept others at arm’s length — so the Veilguard is the first time she’s really had close friends. After Weisshaupt, she grows closer to fellow Wardens Antoine and Evka, who helped secure victory with her plan at the Blighted village, and Greta, who is the only other remaining member of her Joining. She and Teia also grow close throughout the events of Veilguard.

🌾 Several demons have tried to get their hooks into Naimeryn, but they’ve always been thwarted by her determination not to lose herself or endanger those around her. He may not be Determination any longer, but she still has Spite around to beat back any and all challengers.

🌱 Naimeryn has had crushes before, but never any relationships. There was a fellow slave who pretended to like her to get close to another girl when she was 13, and a few Wardens who ultimately decided they weren’t interested in doing the extra work it would take to get into her pants. Generally, if someone flirts with her first, she assumes they want something from her. If she flirts and they flirt back, she assumes she’s given them the wrong idea, but they don’t actually *like* her. Lucanis will be her first everything.

🌼 Spite says Naimeryn smells like Blight and Lavender. He remembers other scents — the air after a downpour, honeycomb and mint, musty books, but she doesn’t smell like those things anymore.

🌷 Rook’s go to place for peace was a secret nook in Weisshaupt’s library. She hadn’t been there since leaving with Varric, and now that place is gone. She often feels trapped in her role, because now she feels she has nowhere to go when she needs to think or be alone. This makes good fanfic fodder, however, as companions get to walk in on her in moments of weakness — which makes her feel like a failure, but makes them appreciate her more as a person.

🥀 Naimeryn’s mother will make an appearance in the regret prison.

🪷 It’s not really *irrational*, but Naimeryn for a very long time was absolutely terrified of becoming an abomination, like to the point that she kind of thought it was inevitable and was just afraid of the not knowing WHEN it was going to happen. She mostly isn’t afraid of this anymore, as she trusts herself more now than at any other point in her life, but it still tears it’s ugly head from time to time.

☘️ Naimeryn’s whole life has been a near-death experience. However, specifically she almost died saving that town from the Darkspawn horde. As she lost consciousness, she wondered if the plan had worked, she wondered where the spirit that had been following her around her whole life had gone, and, upon hearing her fellow Wardens searching for her, she found peace that she wouldn’t die alone after all. I also wrote a near death experience for her after the Fangscorcher mission. All she could think was she COULD NOT DIE with Taash thinking it was their fault.

💐 The First Warden has hated Naimeryn’s since the day Saimaeria Mahariel, Hero of Ferelden, showed up on Weisshaupt’s doorstep and said “here you go. Train her up!” Varric honestly rescued her from this man’s ire — she survived the Ogre and he was ready to kill her himself with his bare damn hands.

🌺 Naimeryn has never had ✨anything.✨Before Loghain sold her and her mother to Tevinter slavers, however, the one thing she did have was a hand knit baby blanket the alienage’s elder gave to her mother when she was born. It was on her bed when she was taken.

🌿 Naimeryn’s first tattoo was the snake on her forehead. A Tevinter Mage Receuit who completed the Joining with Naimeryn dated her to get a snake tattoo, saying she wouldn’t because she was too “soft” to permanently put the iconography of the people who had enslaved her on her body. Naimeryn was damn proud of having survived that house and desperate to prove she belonged, so she came back the next morning with it on her forehead. A few years later she was working in Weisshaupt’s library and devoured any bit of information she could on griffons — albeit there wasn’t very much — and decided she wanted a tattoo that *she* chose and genuinely wanted, and so she got a griffon tattooed on her left thigh. Once Davrin & Bellara drag her around Arlathan enough and she gets to touch grass and smell flowers, and after she sees the Brona’s Bloom cavern, she’s gonna get some floral tattoos done as well.

🍂 Naimeryn doesn’t talk about it, but she was actually the one who like the magister who enslaved her when Saimaeria and the Shadow Dragons freed her and the other slaves in the manor. She lost control of her magic and killed him in an instant, in front of his young children. It took Saimaeria almost a full week to get her to talk at all. To this day, she doesn’t know how to feel about it.

This was so fun! I hope you guys like it!

Woe! Rook ask game be upon ye!

🌻 How old is your Rook? How do they feel about celebrating their birthday? What gift has meant the most to them? 🪻 What is the most painful injury your Rook has received? How has it affected them once it healed/scarred? 🌹 What’s the first genuine fight Rook got in with their love interest about? How was it resolved? 🌸 Does your Rook have any siblings or close friends they see as such? Where are they during the events of Veilguard? 🌾 If there was a demon trying to trap/take over Rook, what kind would be the most successful? What would break their hold? 🌱 Was Rook involved romantically with anyone before Veilguard? What was their partner like? How did the relationship end? 🌼 If someone was to ask Spite what Rook smells like, what would he say? 🌷If Rook needed to get away from their responsibilities for a moment, where would they go? Where is their safe space outside the Lighthouse? 🥀 What figure from Rook’s personal past would be added to the regret prison? 🪷 Does your Rook have an irrational phobia? (ie spiders or large man-made objects submerged underwater) 🍀 Has Rook had any near-death experiences? What went through their mind during what they thought was going to be their final moments? 💐 What is the relationship Rook has with their faction mentor? What was the moment they sent Rook away like? 🌺 Is there an object from Rook’s childhood they look back on fondly? (ie a favorite stuffed animal, book, or food) 🌿 Does your Rook have any tattoos? What was the moment when they got them like? If they’re a Crow where is their de Riva brand located? What vallaslin do they have/how did they earn it if they’re Dalish? 🍂 What was it like the first time Rook killed someone? How did they react afterwards?

[hencheri]

make you mine

18+ mdni.

You've never suspected the evil would have taken the form of Jay, a hot guy from your college, but when he takes interest in you, you rapidly discover the secret he's been hiding.

pairing: jock!jay x fem!reader

wc: 5.7k

warnings: graphic description of gore (mention of blood & injuries), dubcon, implied inexperienced!reader, unprotected sex, jay's kinda mean but hey he's evil so ain't my fault lol.

a.n.: jennifer's body au cause why not. old fic from an old blog, but it's still my fav of all time <3

Jay thinks he never felt that much pain in his whole entire life. It’s like his soul is screaming from the inside out, as if someone stabbed him in the stomach, tearing his guts apart. 

Oh, but that’s what actually happened…

How can he still be alive? He swears he was dead seconds ago, losing liters of blood through the cut in his stomach. But he’s very much conscious right now, getting out of the woods he was brutally murdered in. 

Well, is it still even murder if he survived? 

It doesn’t matter anymore anyway. All he can think about at this moment is how hungry he is. He would devour anything he can put his hand on, and god, why does the person on the other side of the street look so… edible? 

He feels the dried blood that dripped from his mouth stick to his skin as his hands are stained in the same red substance, holding his stomach where, surprisingly, he is no longer bleeding from.The pain is atrocious, but he needs to fucking eat, and so he approaches the person faster. 

The moment they notice him, their eyes grow bigger and they let out a strident scream, but Jay gives them no time to leave.

He doesn’t know what in the hell possesses him to jump on that poor human, his teeth becoming sharper than they ever were, shredding their neck in pieces, their screams slowly dying down as he eats like a starved animal.

The fresh blood is coating the dried layer on his chin. He feels like an uncontrollable beast, and he’s literally acting like one right now. No one with a right mind would have ever done this… but it’s like he isn’t a human. 

He was revived from the dead, there’s nothing human about him anymore. Nothing.

He has an idea as to why this happened. 

Those girls — that girl band who he seemed so enthralled by — sacrificed him, and for what…? For fame? For money? Whatever it is, they killed the wrong person because obviously the sacrifice didn’t fucking work. He’s still very much alive. 

He’s cursed now, that’s for sure. Or whatever the hell is happening to him. 

He looks down at his victim; it’s a man. 

He suddenly feels nauseous, vomiting what he had so far swallowed. A dark liquid comes out of his mouth, and god, it’s even more painful than the cut in his stomach. 

He feels disgusted by himself — why isn’t he full? Eating felt so good, considering how starved he was, but it’s like he ate something … expired. 

What’s wrong with him… He ate someone’s guts, of course it doesn’t taste like a 5 stars meal. Then why did his instinct tell him to do that? 

That’s fucked up. 

The next few days are horrible for Jay. 

After that night, he doesn’t eat anything except for raw chicken and other types of meat that are just not enough to satiate him. It doesn't taste good either. 

He lays in bed most of the time, having no energy, skipping the gym and his practices, which he usually never does. He gets texts from his friends, but he doesn’t bother to check his phone. 

It’s on Sunday night that he decides to leave his bed, going to look at himself in the mirror. He has big dark circles under his eyes — not particularly flattering. He’s still very hungry, but none of the food in his fridge makes him want to eat. 

There’s one thing he’d want, though… 

It’s when he receives a text from a specific person that he knows what to do. 

iseul: hey, jay. wanna study together for the finals?

—-

“Hey, man,” Jay’s teammate, Jungwon, greets him. “Heard about Hana? That’s fucked up,” he says, walking beside his friend. “And right after Iseul… My parents refuse my sister to go out alone now.”

“Yeah, I heard,” Jay replies, not really caring, but still listening. 

It’s not like anybody liked Hana before, he doesn’t understand why everybody suddenly cares now that she’s dead. She needed to die to finally have some importance. How sad. 

She wasn’t that good of a laid either, so really, what’s the matter? Sure, it’s tragic, but who’s going to miss her besides her family. 

“Can’t be an animal at this point,” his teammate says under his breath, “Do you wanna know what I’m thinking?”

Not really…

“What?”

“I’m thinking it’s gotta be some ‘Jack the Ripper’ kinda guy. You know those freaks who wanna be the modern this or that.”

Kind of offensive… 

Jay rolls his eyes without Jungwon noticing, snickering at his words.

“The police’s saying it’s a bear or some shit,” Jay explains, reaching his class. “That’s more believable than your ‘modern Jack the Ripper’.” He mimics quotes with his fingers, stopping in front of the classroom. 

Jungwon still doesn’t seem convinced, but it’s not Jay’s job to make him less stupid. He can believe what he wants, he’s not an investigator even though he thinks he is. 

“See you at practice, alright?”

“Yeah, later, man.”

Jay has never been very attentive in class. He doesn’t care about a lot of things and college is one of them. He wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for his parents and their high expectations of him. 

He’s looking outside the windows, noticing the grey clouds, heavy rain pouring from the sky. A flash of lighting breaks through the sky, hearing the thunder a second after. 

Nobody seems attentive either, all interested in the thunderstorm that’s starting. It might be the strongest they’ve seen in a couple of years. 

“Crap,” the teacher says as the electricity is cut off, surely because of the thunder. 

Girls are gasping, some of them whispering to each other about how creepy the situation is while the professor waits for the power to get back on.

Jay’s phone lights up as he gets a new notification. He takes a look, reading the text he just received. 

jungwon: practice’s canceled.. 

Great, Jay thinks. He really needed to get some steam off, but it won’t happen today. 

“Sir!” A girl raises her hand, catching the attention of the professor. “All classes got canceled. Can we leave? Apparently the power isn’t coming back for a few hours.”

The professor seems quite disappointed, but he lets everyone go back home, seeing no point in staying if he can’t teach. 

While exiting the classroom, Jay gets bumped into by someone. He doesn’t move much, but the person drops their books on the floor, bending down to pick them up hurriedly. 

“Shit… Sorry, I wasn’t looking where I was going,” you apologize, standing back up when you have all of your books in your arms.

“It’s fine,” Jay mumbles and you give him a straight smile.

He recognizes you from highschool, a girl he never talked to, but who he knew the name of. Then, he watches you walking away for a short moment, eyeing the curves of your silhouette, memorizing it. 

—-

You’re in the cafeteria, sitting with your friends, waiting for about a good 30 minutes now. The storm from yesterday is still ongoing, and the power is very unstable, cutting off every now and then.

The finals are scheduled for today and the administration told the students to come regardless of the storm, thinking it would stop during the night. So you’re waiting to be sent to the gym where the exams are usually taking place, but seeing the electricity goes off and comes back every second, it isn’t the best time to start an exam. 

People are free to go, it’s college after all, but most of the students are staying in case a decision is made. You know you wouldn’t want to skip your exam, that’s why you’re staying, even though it’s starting to get really long. 

No murder has happened since the beginning of the storm, confirming the police suspicions that it might be a wild animal doing this. A bear wouldn’t come out during a thunderstorm, hence why no bodies have been found or anyone going missing. 

You don’t really know what to think of the whole thing. You never really experienced anything of the sort before, only ever seen it in the news, taking place in a far away city. Now, it’s really different to be a witness of it.

You don’t understand how an animal would do such a thing, especially since they aren’t known to attack humans, or… eat them. But everybody is kind of desperate to find a culprit. 

As you’re looking through your notes, you notice that you’re missing a piece of information that you absolutely need to know for your test. You would ask your friends, but none of them are in this class with you. Plus, you forgot your book so the only solution would be to go to the library. 

The place is lit up by candles and oil lamps. The power doesn’t seem to have come back here either. 

The librarian isn’t even here, so you can’t ask her for directions, which would be really useful, but you’ll do without. You go to the biology section and start searching for the book you need. It takes you some time, carefully looking through the shelves until you notice an older edition of the book. You hope what you need is in there.

You start flipping the pages to the right chapter, but you jump out of surprise and drop the book to the floor at the sound of someone else’s voice. 

“Aren’t you supposed to attend your exam?”

It’s the guy you bumped into yesterday; Jay. 

What’s weird is that you didn’t hear him at all, you could have sworn you were alone in the library. You suppose he’s a really quiet walker.

“Uh, y-yeah,” you stammer out, furrowing your brows. You bend down to pick up the book, his eyes following your movements closely. “Just had to come here for this,” you say and show the object in question in your hand. “What about you?”

He leans on the shelves beside him. 

“Didn’t feel like wasting my time back there,” he explains and you nod, not really sure what he wants exactly… It’s not like you’re friends or anything.

You can’t see much of him with the low lighting in the library, but you still catch on the way he’s looking at you intently. It makes you slightly uncomfortable, considering he’s towering over you with all his height. And Jay is very tall compared to you. 

“Is- Is there something else you wanted to ask me…?” You manage to let out, voice a bit shaky and uneasy. 

“Are you scared?” he asks casually.

He steps closer to you, and you don’t understand why you don’t step back. It’s like you don’t dare.

“What?”

“The storm. Pretty intense, right?”

Is he really interested to know if you’re scared of storms or is he playing with you? Why would he even play with you in the first place, that’s what you wonder. 

His behaviour really confuses you. It’s true that you don’t know him, but he isn’t the type of guy to just… creep girls out. Maybe it’s not his intention though?

“Oh, yeah… it’s nothing I've ever seen before,” you confess in a small voice. 

“Me neither,” Jay replies. 

You hold the book against you tighter like it’s some sort of protection, or just as emotional support. You don’t know what’s up with him, but it has you feeling some type of way… 

You feel the knot in your stomach getting tighter as he gets even closer, trapping you between him and the bookshelves. 

Yes, you’re scared, but not of the storm… of him.

And… there’s a part of you that likes it — likes the attention he gives you, the way his dark eyes look at your body. His gaze makes you think of a carnivore, a predator. 

You’re the food he was looking for. 

“It’s really loud, isn’t it?” he observes. “I wonder… if you had to scream, would anybody hear you?”

That startles you right away. 

“Jay-” Saying his name seems to catch his attention, his eyes looking directly into yours. “Stop it.”

He doesn’t break eye contact, and you’re destabilized by how long he can hold your gaze, a shiver running down your spine, making the hair on your arms stand up. 

It’s only to whisper in your ear that his eyes leave yours. 

“Stop what exactly?”

His hot breath hits the side of your neck, hearing your heart pounding in your chest, the knot in your stomach becoming heavier and heavier. Your hands clasp around your book, holding onto it for dear life as you gulp down the excess of saliva in your mouth. 

You scrunch your eyes shut when you feel his hands on your hips, fingers sneaking under the hem of your top. Your core heats up, blood rushing to your cheeks.

“What do you want?” You breathe out, opening your eyes when Jay faces you again. 

He takes the book from you, putting it back onto the shelves, not caring if it’s the wrong placement. 

“Just a little bit of fun,” he answers, “wouldn’t you like that, hm?” He slips his index finger under the band of your skirt then, pulling you closer to him, his lips only centimetres away from yours. “I know girls like you are too shy to ask for it… So I’m making the first move.” 

“No, I-” You begin, but don’t have the time to finish your sentence. 

“It’s fine, I’m gonna take the lead. You don’t have to worry about anything, pretty,” he tells you, tilting his head and pressing a light kiss to your lips. Surprisingly, you reciprocate it. He pulls his hand away from your skirt, putting it around your neck instead. “I knew you’d be into it, you’re a little freak, aren’t you?” 

You don’t know what to answer. Is there even anything you can say back to him? What’s the point of lying when he has you trapped between his large body and the bookshelves, his slender fingers gripping your neck, his lips brushing over your face. 

But would that be really a lie saying he’s wrong about you? He doesn’t know you…

He kisses you again, this time sloppier, his tongue dominating yours easily. He nudges your legs open with his knee, his other hand swiftly diving under the hem of your skirt, groping your flesh in a lewd way that keeps you out of breath — apart from the fact that his tongue is currently exploring your mouth. 

He graces the bump of your pussy with his knuckles, making your knees buckle at the unexpected contact. He rubs the pad of his middle finger over your clit, a whine escaping your throat, muffled by his mouth on yours. The moment is brief until he slips his hand into your underwear. 

You try to make him stop by grabbing his wrist, pulling away from his lips to pathetically whisper a ‘please’ that makes him chuckle. 

“Already begging for me, sweetheart?” He softly laughs, smirking at you. “Excited by the idea of a guy’s fingers in your little cunt instead of yours? Is that it?”

You frown because that wasn’t the reason why you begged him, but now that he said this… your thoughts are going into a completely different way. What’s wrong with you?

“Do you wanna know how it feels, baby? How it’s like to have your pussy stuffed by someone else’s fingers…” 

He’s not waiting for an answer as he starts stroking your bud of nerves in slow circular motions, applying some pressure to really make you feel it. You let out another whine, this time of pleasure. 

Jay then shifts down to your entrance, circling it with a lot of delicacy, but this gentleness of his doesn’t go on for long as he pushes a finger into you. You bite down on your bottom lip — the size of his fingers are in no comparison to yours. Your eyes well up in tears, little cries escaping your mouth when he adds a second digit. 

“I know, I know,” he whispers, “must be uncomfortable, hm?” You nod your head, confirming his words. “It’ll feel good soon, I promise. You’re used to the feel of your tiny fingers, it’s normal…”

When he says this, you have a hard time believing him. How could it feel good when you weren’t at all prepared for this — when it’s not what you wanted. 

He begins to move his fingers inside of you, slow and long strokes at first, circling your clit with his thumb at the same time. He curls his fingers, making a little hook, patting your sweet spot. The intrusion is uncomfortable, but it progressively gets so much more pleasurable as he thrusts into you at a regular pace. 

Tears are still falling down from your eyes, eyelashes wet and sticky, but they aren’t the result of your pain… 

“You’re pretty when you cry,” Jay murmurs beside your ear, butterflies in your stomach when he tells you this. 

He unwraps his hand from your throat to instead grab your thigh, placing your leg around his hip. You now feel his fingers way deeper inside of you, gently and deliciously stimulating your g-spot. You dare to look down where his left hand is operating between your thighs, sliding in until he’s knuckles deep into your pussy. This makes you breathless, head rolling back on your shoulders and hitting the shelves behind you. 

“Oh, my god-!” You exclaim when Jay’s ministrations bring you so close to your orgasm. Your legs are twitching, your body warning you of your approaching high.

You’d probably be more aware of his hard cock trapped in his baggy jeans, but you literally cannot focus on anything else other than Jay fingering you, hitting your sensitive spot each time he thrusts in. 

“That’s it, baby,” he encourages, moving faster. “You feel it? Huh?” He asks and you croak out a weak ‘yes’. “Tell me how it feels.”

You hate his questions — you hate them so much. He knows how you feel, but he wants you to say it, he wants you to say that you enjoy it, and… your body really does. 

“G-Good.”

“Yeah?” he breathes out, fucking your cunt with his fingers, enthralled by the little moans you let out.

“Yes,” you confirm, closing your eyes and nodding your head. “Fuck!” You curse out when you finally reach your high, grasping onto his forearm as you ride out your orgasm, your entire body shaking. 

Jay helps you by slowly rubbing your puffy clit in circles, telling you more dirty words in your ear, all said in the sweetest voice, as if what he’s doing can be described as anything sweet. 

“Good girl,” he praises, “see, I told you it’d feel great.”

He still has his head in the crook of your neck, and you frown at the feeling of sharp teeth against your skin. It’s barely there, just brushing over it, as if hesitating to act… but Jay retrieves back, looking into your reddened eyes. 

He could stop there, but he won’t — though he got what he wanted, he needs more… 

He pulls his hand out of your panties, fingers glistening in your arousal. “Open wide for me, baby,” he instructs. 

You glance at his hand, a little repulsed. You’ve never thought of tasting yourself and it’s surely nothing you’d have ever done if not for Jay. 

You then reluctantly open your mouth and he enters his wet fingers in. 

“Suck,” he adds on, expecting you to follow his orders, and you do without a second thought. 

He stares down at you while you lick his fingers clean and he slides them a bit deeper, pushing down on your tongue. The taste of yourself isn’t what you thought it’d be… It doesn’t taste much, in fact. 

He removes his fingers from your mouth only to put them in his own after. “As sweet as you are,” he grins. “Turn around.”

You hesitate for a moment, looking at him credulously, before doing what he asked you to do on trembling legs. 

“Are you…?” You say under your breath, looking over your shoulder and seeing Jay pulling the zipper of his pants down. 

“Going to put my cock into you?” he finishes your question, “yeah, I am.”

You stop breathing at his answer, sensing his deft fingers touching your thighs and hips, going under your skirt to drag your panties down. 

He soon gets his cock out of his briefs, pumping himself a couple of times before aligning his head with your dripping entrance. His right hand keeps your skirt crumpled up over your ass, laying the other one on your hip. 

“Careful, sweetheart,” he says softly beside your ear, “because this might sting a little bit more than two fingers.” He swipes the head of his cock through your sticky folds and all you can do is moan pathetically at the feeling, lewd, wet noises echoing in the big library. 

You can’t see his length even with the way you contort your head to look over your shoulder, but you’re still able to see his chest and hips moving as he pushes his cock into your pussy. Though you have no idea what he looks like, the painful feeling of your cunt getting stretched out to his size tells you he’s really big. 

And he was right. This hurts way more than his fingers, the two feelings are not comparable at all. 

“Jay-,” you cry out, holding onto the shelves in front of you till there’s no more blood in your knuckles. 

He hears you, loving the sounds you’re making because of him and the way you say his name with eyes full of tears. When he bottoms out inside of you, his pelvis flushed against your ass, he lets out a low grunt and throws his head back, closing his eyes to savour the pleasure entirely. 

You involuntarily clench around him, making him tighten his grip on your hip. He then starts thrusting into you, his cock sliding in and out of your pussy at a slow but harsh pace. Each time he bottoms out, Jay makes sure the skin of his thighs slap against your ass, the sounds almost as loud as your little moans and whimpers. 

But the storm is so intense and noisy that he’s pretty sure nobody else in the library could hear you — if there was anyone else here apart from the two of you anyway. 

Your wetness allows him to fuck his cock into your pussy back and forth, welcoming him so perfectly without any restraint. It’s almost impossible for him to not hit your sweet spot, and he reaches so much deeper when he lifts up your thigh with the hand that was previously placed on your hip. 

You don’t know how long you can stay in this position, especially when Jay’s drilling his cock into you like nothing else matters. It’s like he needs it from you, and as the pleasure only builds up in you, you start thinking you need it desperately, too. 

You’re breathing heavily, and so is he, feeling his hot breath on your neck when he tilts his head down closer to yours. You can clearly hear his breathing now as well as his deep grunts that leave his mouth every time your walls close tightly around his girth, literally sucking him in. 

“Shit,” he curses out as he pushes lightly on your back, deepening the arch of it so your ass is flushed against his pelvis. “How could I have ever missed out on you… You’re so- fuck,” Jay chokes out, not finishing his sentence, but you have a guess on what he wanted to say. 

He then kisses your neck pretty messily, but it only raises the temperature of your body, your skin boiling hot under his soft lips. He leaves a wet trail behind, going up to your ear, down to your shoulder. 

Telling him to stop isn’t even possible anymore, it wouldn’t make any sense… would be absolutely stupid when you’re so close to your second orgasm. 

As he thrusts into you, his balls slap your pussy, and the sounds are just too vulgar, but it’s honestly arousing you so much. Jay lets go of your thigh to take a hold of your jaw, turning it around so he can look at your face. 

Your mouth is ajar to let out big puffs of air, and it’s the same for him, his breathing being irregular and heavy. He didn’t think he would ever need something that badly, which is making you his, surprisingly enough. 

Making you his in whatever way possible; whether it’s by fucking you or eating you — or both. Jay doesn’t care, he just wants it. 

It doesn’t take long for your second orgasm to pass through you, arms and legs shaking as the knot at the pit of your stomach snaps. Jay feels it very clearly, your walls hugging his cock terribly tightly, bringing him closer to his own orgasm as well.

“Holy fuck,” he hisses, his hip thrusts accelerating, literally burying his cock in your cunt until he slips out. He rapidly strokes himself and cums on your ass, strings of white cum falling on you. “Oh, god…”

He stays in this position for a couple of seconds, catching his breath. He then slightly backs away, making sure to keep your skirt crumpled up over your butt, looking at the mess he made of you. 

Suddenly, you both catch on the voices entering the library, making you rush to dress up and clean yourselves. 

—-

You’re in your bedroom, studying and writing down in your notebook while lying on your bed. It’s relatively quiet in your house, hearing the TV downstairs playing and the ceiling fan above your head running. 

The ringtone of your cell phone breaks the silence, buzzing on top of your bedsheets. It’s a number that you don’t recognize, but the first digitals show that it’s a number from your area, so you pick it up. 

“Hello?” 

“Hey, pretty.”

“Uh, who is this?” You ask the person on the other side of the line because you have no idea who would call you like this. They must know you.

“Take a guess,” they say, and their tone is oddly flirty. 

You frown, starting to remember where you heard this voice for the last time… And in which situation exactly. 

“... Jay?” 

He laughs at that and you can imagine the cheeky smile he’s sporting right now. 

“You got it,” he replies, “see, I knew you’d remember me.” 

You immediately feel uneasy despite the fact you’re just talking through the phone, but things have happened since your encounter with Jay.

Things such as more dead girls, all brutally murdered by this supposed ‘animal’. 

You suspected nothing until you noticed how tired looking Jay was a day or two after what happened in the library. Normally, you wouldn’t have looked at him, but you literally couldn’t get him out of your head after how intimate the both of you had been. 

Every time he was in the same hallway as you, you’d give him a glance and nothing more as you were too shy to talk to him or even look at him for too long. 

But sometimes you dared to watch him a little longer when he didn’t know you were there. 

And you saw the dark circles, the bad attitude he had with his friends, and the disdain look he seemed to give to everybody. You also saw him get in his car with a girl. You were jealous for a second, but you felt totally different the next day when that same girl went missing and that Jay was doing fine again. 

At first, it was just silly thoughts, but it was too strong of a coincidence, you couldn’t think about anything else. 

Jay’s an incubus.

“Yeah…” You say back, shoulders tense as you sit up on your bed. “How did you get my number?” 

“Asked Jungwon for it,” he simply explains. “You did a project back in highschool together. Remember?”

You do remember. You were so stressed out about it. Paired with a popular jock? You believed the teacher was against you, but it turned out that Jungwon was way nicer than you thought.

“Luckily, you didn’t change numbers.”

Lucky for who?

“Right,” you huff out, looking through your window, a shiver passing through you at the thought of Jay hiding somewhere.

“What’re you doing?” he asks.

“Uhm, just studying… Why?” 

“Wanna go out with me?” Jay proposes after a few seconds of silence. 

You look through your window again. It’s dark outside. This would be such a bad idea… 

“It’s 9 p.m. on a Thursday night,” you begin, sounding way too bitchy for his liking, “where would we go? And why would I even go out with you…”

“The park’s always open,” he adds.

“What-”

“Relax. Nothing bad gonna happen, alright?" his voice resonates through the phone, hearing a slight laugh after. "I miss you, that's all."

You bite down on your lip, shaking your head to get all of your stupid thoughts away. As much as you hate to admit it, you love hearing that from Jay. That’s all you wanted him to say since he left you in the library… tell you he needs you as much as you need him. 

But this isn’t the time for that — there won’t ever be another time anyway. 

You respond nothing and so he takes it as a yes. “Send me your address, I’ll come pick you up in 10 minutes. Put something pretty on,” he chuckles, hanging up. 

—-

The park isn’t an open space with benches and a fountain. It’s basically the woods where you go for hiking. There are paths you can follow that will all lead you to the same place at the end. 

You could have thought of something smarter, or less dangerous, but you didn’t have any time. Jay showed up at your entrance precisely 10 minutes after he hung up and you weren’t exactly ready to see him just yet. 

You had to get in his car anyway, the whole ride being quiet until you arrived at your destination. Your stomach churned up the moment you entered the woods, Jay behind you. 

Your heart is still beating super fast right now, whether it’s because you’re absolutely scared or because Jay is kissing you feverishly, it doesn’t matter. You can’t do this, and you don’t know how it might end for you if you let yourself be distracted by him. 

“Jay,” you manage to say between kisses. You push harder on his chest, making him stop from putting his tongue in your mouth. “We need to talk,” you say firmly. 

“About what?” he chuckles, diving back down to the crook of your neck where he plants wet kisses, his hand sneaking up under your dress while the other holds your hip. 

You squirm, fighting hard to not let yourself give in to his touch. 

“I saw… I saw Kazuha and you getting into your car the other day,” you confess and he backs away from your neck when he hears that, looking intently at your face. 

“And? You were jealous, is that it?” He questions, lifting one eyebrow. 

“No! I mean-,” you answer right after, thinking about what to say and how to say it. “She went missing the day after you saw her, and-”

Jay gets visibly annoyed, trapping his bottom lip between his teeth. He lets go of you, still looking at you, but not with lustful eyes anymore. 

“What? What are you trying to say, huh?” He huffs out. “That I killed her? Fucking crazy.”

Is he really guilty? He has to be. You know he is. 

“Back in the library,” you begin to say, “were you… did you intend to kill me?” You eventually say it all, breath caught in your throat as you watch Jay registering your words. 

He sighs, “why would it matter?” You frown at that, about to respond, but he steps closer to you, trapping you between him and the tree again. “Just let me take care of you, gonna make you feel so good, baby…” 

He slips his hands under your dress so rapidly that you don’t have any time to react, immediately overwhelmed by his groping and his lips all over you. 

But you get back to your senses, using all your force to push him away. You succeed to have a safe distance between the two of you.

“So you’re admitting it!? You wanted to- to do the same thing to me!”

“No,” he disagrees, his voice harsh, sounding quite annoyed. “I just wanted- Fuck!” he exclaims angrily, but it’s like he doesn’t know what to say. 

“You could have had everybody you wanted, Jay,” you state, looking him into the eyes, “why me?”

He looks back at you and you wonder how you couldn’t have seen it before… The evil. 

“Why not? You’re hot, kinda stuck-up, but I had to try it, you know,” he chuckles. “For a nerdy girl, you sure know how to take dick.”

This angers you to a point… 

“Fuck you!”

And without thinking twice, you reach down to pick up the pocket knife you hid in your boot before. 

You open it and you rush toward Jay, stabbing him in his lower stomach. You retrieve the knife a bit too hastily, resulting in you dropping it and falling down on your butt to the ground. 

Jay also falls down, holding onto his stomach, red blood dripping out of his cut onto his hands. He yells out many curses, sucking air through his teeth to appease the pain as much as he can. 

You watch him, startled and out of breath, eventually turning around and searching for your knife through the dirt and dead leaves. When you find it, you get back up and to Jay, but he isn’t there anymore.

He has completely disappeared. 

[iconicstoner]

behind the scenes

gn!bau!reader x aaron hotchner (fluff, confessions)

words: 956

summary: Reader and Hotch have been keeping their love a secret, not even willing to admit it to each other, but when the reader starts having some financial issues Hotch knows he has to do something. The reader isn’t willing to take money from Hotch, but they gladly accept a confession of his love.

“Why did you call me into your office, sir?” you ask, closing the door to Hotchner’s dimly lit office. It’s not the first time you’ve been alone together in his office. Despite what you might want, nothing intimate has ever happened, just many late-night talks; venting to each other, telling stories, laughing, and even the occasional card game. You sit across from him as he slides his stack of paperwork to the side.

“I heard you’ve been struggling with money,” he says bluntly, causing your eyes to widen in surprise. You and Hotch had a confusing relationship. It was obvious to most people the two of you were head over heels, but you would never admit, even to each other, that you were in love. So, you were left to steal glances, let your hands linger when passing paperwork, and lean on each other only after everyone else on the jet fell asleep. With this line of work, anything else was too dangerous.

“Sir, you called me into your office to discuss my financial situation?” you ask quizzically. Aaron rarely called you into his office, not wanting anyone to suspect his true feelings, so this was strange.

“Garcia may have let it slip to me,” he responds, clearly taking this very seriously. You internally facepalm, knowing you shouldn’t have mentioned it to anyone.

“Yes, well the rent at my apartment went up, and on top of that I have student loans to pay off, and it’s just been hard to take care of everything on my salary,” you respond awkwardly.

“I see. I can put in a request for a raise for you if you’d li-”

“No, no that’s fine,” you say quickly, cutting him off. “I know the BAU is dealing with enough budget struggles as it is.”

“I could find the money,” he stares up at you, your features dimmed by the low light. He’d be disappointed if he hadn’t already memorized it.

“Aaron, you cannot give me federal funds to pay my rent,” you say in a hushed whisper, shocked that he would even suggest it. He just smiles.

“Embezzlement? No, I’d like to give you some of my money to help.”

“You can’t do that. What about Jack?”

“I promise, Jack and I are doing perfectly fine. He could go to Harvard for free with the money I have saved.”

“With a father like you, I’m sure he’ll get in.”

“You’re calling me smart?”

“No,” you grin, “but you’re in the FBI, so I’m sure you could guarantee his acceptance.”

“Right, with all the government money I’m embezzling,” he jokes. You just smile, taking a moment to look at him. His smile lines. The faint rings under his eyes from long nights at the office. It was all so perfect. “I just want you to know, I’m serious about this offer.”

“Aaron, my financial situation has been better since I last spoke to Garcia. I’m moving soon and I found a roomate.”

“I’m glad to hear that,” he says with a small smile, staring into your eyes.

“Will that be all?” you ask, smiling back.

“Yes,” he says reluctantly. “But I have one request.”

“What’s that?” You stand up and Hotch is quick to follow suit.

“You’ll let me visit the new apartment?”

“Of course. As coworkers?” Aaron’s smile fades, his face forming a pensive expression, but he doesn’t say anything. You watch as he swallows thickly, struggling to form a response.

“Yes, of course, as coworkers,” he clarifies. You stare at him, not saying a word, barely struggling to hold your laughter in. He cracks a smile, seeing your expression. “Something to say?” he asks you.

“Maybe you should come over as more than a coworker,” you say slyly, hoping you aren’t pushing the envelope too far.

“I’d like that,” he quickly agrees. Relief floods over you, causing you to smile with glee.

“Is it too soon to kiss you?” You ask playfully, shooting him a wink.

“I’ve been waiting for this moment,” he says, leaning into you. You grab his tie, pulling him in close. Gently, he presses his warm lips against yours. He kisses you deeper, pressing your back against the office door. His big hands grab your waist, keeping you close. You snake your hands up his chest, wrapping them around his neck. Slowly, he pulls away, leaving you hungry for more.

“We should probably stop, maybe we could continue this when I get the new apartment tour?” he suggests.

“I’d be very open to that,” you reply with a smile. He smiles back, filling your stomach with butterflies.

“I’ll see you then,” Hotch replies, straightening out his suit. You do the same and open the door, revealing Garcia, Morgan, Spencer, JJ, and Emily staring at you with wide grins.

“I knew it!!” Garcia exclaims, high-fiving Morgan as she giggles.

“Never took Hotch for a ladies man,” Emily jokes dryly.

“You must not have been paying attention,” Morgan chimes in, “the guy’s smooth.”

“Right, and I’m sure he learned it from you,” JJ says sarcastically. You laugh at her remark, drawing attention back to you and Hotch.

“Really?” you ask, embarrassed, “even Spencer knew?

“I pick up on body language very well,” he says straight-faced. “Plus, you didn’t think we were all asleep on the jet, did you?” he asks, smiling wide. The whole team playfully laughs and you turn back to Hotch.

“I think our secret is out,” you tell him.

“They were going to learn eventually,” he says with a smile. He cradles the back of your head and gently kisses your forehead in front of the team. Cheers erupt from your friends, causing you to blush, but Hotch doesn’t seem embarrassed, if anything, he’s proud.

[tommarvoloriddlesdiary]

41

i don't know what i did with this, and i'm certain it's not what you meant - but here's your fic for 41. "...because the world is saved."

~

Ash falls like snow, peppering Harry’s hair and coating the scattered stones of Hogwarts, softening their jagged, ruined edges.

Harry stands at its centre, his wand still warm and loosely dangling in his grip. His chest rises and falls as he catches his breath. He feels Voldemort before he sees him, fighting a wince as his scar throbs faintly. Voldemort’s presence had stopped feeling oppressive ages ago… so it must be all that hovering he’s doing over Harry’s shoulder—too close, too familiar, too worried.

“You were reckless,” Voldemort says, right when Harry feels the reprimand building in the air reach its boiling point. Voldemort’s voice is hoarse from battle, his face streaked with dirt and blood. Harry knows it isn’t his; he frowns at Voldemort nonetheless.

When Harry turns, he physically feels the weight of his exhaustion. It pulls down his shoulders, droops his head, and lines his face. Suddenly, he can’t imagine that he looks much better. “Reckless worked, didn’t it?” He asks, just to be annoying.

Voldemort’s mouth spasms in something that might be amusement or disdain—it’s hard to tell. “Barely. If you had died before finishing the incantation, they would all be dead.”

‘Again.’ Hovers in the air, silent and stretching.

“Well,” Harry huffs, “you’d have just had to try and save everyone on your own.” And he can’t help himself when he reaches up to thumb at the drying blood on Voldemort’s face—the near flinch he feels under his attention is so so satisfying. “Isn’t that right?”

He tilts his head away from Harry’s touch and sighs long and low. “You are insufferable, Harry Potter.”

Harry pulls his hand back easily, and a smile tugs up his lips. “Stop suffering me, then?”

The throbbing of his scar had faded with Voldemort’s settling (his needling is a way of reassuring himself, Harry now knows), but it’s back with a vengeance. Harry flinches this time. “Hey now, it’s just a joke—ease up, would you?” He waves Voldemort off, cooling him down or fanning the flames? He never has the slightest clue. 

For a moment, Voldemort says nothing; his dark eyes study Harry’s face like he’s almost got him all figured out, like he constantly unearths more questions with every answer, like if he just looks at Harry long enough—he’ll understand him completely. It’s been happening a lot lately. Harry’s not sure how there’s much left of him to discover with the way Voldemort digs and pries. 

The pain gets worse and spikes to near unbearable before abruptly fading altogether. Voldemort rolls his eyes when he says, “Your humour remains of poor taste.”

Harry opens his mouth to retort, something sharp and teasing to ease the odd silence and to avoid the masses a bit longer, but the words catch somewhere in his throat. His humour isn’t for anyone but himself to enjoy, yet a slight hint of guilt forms in the pit of his stomach. It makes home next to the strange tension that hasn’t let up since Voldemort caught sight of Harry from across the battlefield. He doubts Voldemort has stopped watching him since. 

The look on Voldemort’s face—half-exasperation, half something else—roots him in place. It’s a superficial crack in the otherwise unyielding wall, and Harry wants to see more, wants to pry back.

“You’re staring,” Harry says, his voice quieter now, though the quip still lingers on his lips. It feels too fragile to tease properly.

“You are hard to ignore,” Voldemort replies, his tone just shy of biting. The words lack venom, and something in the way his gaze shifts—falling briefly to Harry’s mouth before darting away—makes Harry’s stomach twist.

The words stamp themselves into the walls of Harry’s mouth before he has the good sense to think about them. “Then don’t.”

Voldemort freezes. He’s eerily still usually, but Hary can feel this pause like he’s stopped the very air around them. It feels alive, heavy, charged with magic—residue from all the fighting? Or is it all from Voldemort himself? And Harry doesn’t know why he said it, doesn’t know why his heart is hammering, but it doesn’t stop him from taking half a step closer.

“I do not think this—” Voldemort starts, his voice low, but Harry cuts him off without a second thought.

“Quit thinking for once,” Harry says a bit too forcefully, his fingers curling instinctively into Voldemort’s robes. His exhaustion somehow vanishes with the movement, like touching Voldemort, even barely grazing, renews him, every nerve alive and burning.

For a second that feels like eternity, neither of them moves. Harry really wants to. But now his brain seems to be operating like usual, possibly even thinking for the both of them, and it’s swearing up and down that he might have pushed too far…

But then Voldemort leans in. It’s not sudden, nor is it hesitant—it’s deliberate, as though he’s weighing every centimetre of the distance between them and making peace with crossing it. Their lips meet, soft and strangely tentative despite Voldemort’s near-constant certainty in his every action—though, has ever truly been certain around Harry? Especially recently?

Voldemort’s hand brushes against his jaw, cool and surprisingly steady. Harry’s breath catches in his chest, his hand tightening slightly in Voldemort’s robes as if to anchor himself. 

It lasts only a few moments, but it’s enough to leave Harry reeling when they part, their foreheads nearly touching. Ash still falls around them, the quiet of Hogwarts’ ruins amplifying Harry’s heartbeat. He needs to will it quiet, needs to let go of Voldemort, needs to rethink his life’s choices—

“Reckless,” Voldemort murmurs, his voice tinged with something like disbelief, cutting through Harry’s spiralling thoughts.

Harry lets out a shaky laugh, his smile soft but undeniably smug. “Yeah, well. Reckless works, doesn’t it?”

This time, Voldemort doesn’t argue.

~

i hope you like it 🥹

[jenanigans1207]

1/7/25: Petty

“Dude,” Sam says to Dean one night when they’re sitting in the library pouring over some boring ass books that haven’t helped them even a little bit up until this point. “What the hell’d you do to Cas?”

“Who says I did anything to him?” Dean asks without glancing up. “Dude’s weird, it’s probably nothing.”

A hand appears on the page that Dean was pretending to read, and it takes him a second to even realize it’s happened, blinking his attention back to the moment and glaring at Sam as he reaches out to smack the offending hand. Sam snatches his hand back before Dean makes contact, but the effect was successful because Sam now has Dean’s full attention.

“He’s taking everything I say so literally.” Sam explains, pausing as if he’s waiting for Dean to add something. When Dean doesn’t, he presses on. “We’ve known the guy for twelve years and even when he was his most angelic, he didn’t do this.”

“Sure he did.” Dean argued, the phrase no, he’s not on any flatbread circling around in his head.

But Sam shakes his head, a few long pieces falling into his eyes. “That was different. He didn’t know then. He’s doing it on purpose now.”

Dean sighs and scrubs a hand across his face. “He’s doing it to be a petty bastard.” He says finally. “On our last hunt I yelled at him because he never fucking listens or does what I ask him to do, which is how he got hurt. So now—”

“He’s taking everything said to him literally and acting it out exactly as he’s told to.” Sam fills in the blank.

“Yeah.” Dean says. “I was trying to ignore him hoping that he’d stop, but he only seems to be doubling down on being an ass about the whole thing.”

To Dean’s surprise, the only response Sam has to the whole situation is to burst out in laughter. It’s the kind of head thrown back, belly laugh that Dean hasn’t heard Sam do in years. It was the kind of laugh he cherished, because he used to get it so infrequently that he had to commit every second of it to memory. And even though Sam laughs more easily now, he still rarely laughs with this kind of unbridled joy— for a moment it makes Dean entirely forget about Cas and his petty revenge. Despite himself and despite the situation, Dean finds himself grinning a little too, just happy to see his brother happy.

“You really met your match,” Sam finally manages to choke out, still smiling in a way that’s happy but definitely verging on shit-eating. “For every pain in the ass thing you do, he returns the favor.”

“It’s not funny,” Dean grumbles, leaning back in his chair. He wants to take a swig of his beer but it’s empty and he doesn’t feel like getting up. “He needs to be more careful!”

Sam settles more comfortably in his own chair then and it’s the slant of his shoulders that tells Dean he should’ve gotten up to get the next beer because he’ll need it for whatever Sam is about to say. “Have you just tried telling him that you’re worried about him? And that it matters to you that he stays safe?”

There’s a lot of deflections and defenses that jump to the tip of Dean’s tongue, but he bites back on them. He’s been trying to be better to be at least a little more honest— with himself, Sam, and Cas. Nobody else was yet included in that honesty, but he figured he’d get there someday. So he swallows the immediate words he wants to say and glances down at the table.

“He should know.” He answers instead which isn’t much but it’s better and more vulnerable than anything else he would’ve said. At least it implies admission that Sam’s right about his true reason for being upset.

“I’m sure he does.” Sam agrees and there’s a sincerity in his voice that does actually comfort Dean a little. “But knowing it deep down and hearing it are different.” Sam explains, pausing before adding, “You know he loves you, but it’s still nice to hear, isn’t it?”

And goddamn it all, Sam has a point that Dean can’t even begin to deny. Because he does know that Cas loves him, knows it to the core of his very bones. But if Cas were to just stop saying it out loud, were to stop reminding him of just how much he’s loved, it would be hard for Dean. He wouldn’t doubt that love, but he would still struggle with it.

Dean groans and pushes back from the table, mumbling an affectionate and exasperated “bitch” under his breath as he leaves the room. He doesn’t have to travel far to find Cas, situated in the bathroom preparing to shave. Cas glances up when he walks in the door, their eyes meeting in the mirror. Cas’s hand stills where they were unrolling a towel over the sink in front of him.

“I’m so hard on you because I’m worried,” Dean blurts before he has the chance to lose his nerve. “I’m terrified of losing you and it scares the shit out of me when you get hurt on our hunts.” Cas’s eyes have gone impossibly wide in his reflection, but he doesn’t interrupt. “I don’t mean to be an ass, I just— I can’t lose you, Cas. You mean too damn much to me.”

“Dean,” Cas breathes, turning to face him properly.

“So there you go,” Dean scuffs the toe of his boot on the ground. “You can stop being a petty bitch now.”

Cas smiles as he steps up to Dean, reaching out to cup his elbow gently in a warm hand. “Thank you for telling me.”

“You knew, right?” Dean confirms.

“I knew,” Cas answers. “I couldn’t have been so petty if I had thought you were serious.”

“You’re such an ass.”

[ofdarknesseyes]

Yeah he didn’t know Megumi not completely. Sure he can still get a read on him like when he was little, that could just be fatherly instincts that never actually go away no matter how hard he tries. But he isn’t naive, it has been years since he spent any time with his son. He wasn’t the one to raise Megumi. Megumi wasn’t like him, he gave a shit about others. He isn’t sure if that is a good thing or not. On one hand, yeah great, his son wasn’t a piece of shit like him. On the other, it only meant it was more likely for Megumi to get hurt. Both mentally and physically or worse…

He leans against the door frame waiting for Megumi to be ready. Sighing at his words. He gets it. Gojo was much more his father than he ever would be. He doesn’t blame Megumi for caring about the man that was there for him. Who actually raised him, trained him, provided for him, and protected him. As much as he didn’t want to care it did make him feel something. Remorseful? Regretful? Almost as if he wished he stuck around. No use thinking like that though.

“I get it. I owe that brat too anyways.” He grumbles the last part to himself looking almost annoyed. Cursing under his breath even.

Megumi’s next words, his concern for him, shock him to the core. He shouldn’t be shocked, not really, not with the way Megumi has clearly shown to care for others, but still, it shocks him and makes him feel other things he isn’t used to. Those feelings are drowned out by the guilt that he doesn’t deserve anything from Megumi, not even his pity. Also, the way Megumi says his name… He doesn’t expect to be called dad or father or anything like that but even just hearing Megumi say his name did something to him… He buries that feeling deep inside for now.

His eyes are wide only for the briefest of moments before he chuckles softly and shakes his head. He ruffles Megumi’s hair before his hand caresses his face gently, lowering his voice slightly.

“I am supposed to be dead anyways, kid. Don’t sweat it. I’ll be fine.”

His green eyes set on Megumi his expression almost saying: You won’t lose me. Even though he can’t make any promises.

Toji reassures him anyway. And what was he supposed to do just let Megumi waltz out there on his own? He almost groans at himself when he realizes that his feelings and his actions are becoming very father-like. It was too damn late to be a dad he tries to tell himself. Whatever, he always did whatever he wanted didn’t he? The least Toji could do was admit to himself he wanted to do this. He wanted to be by Megumi’s side for as long as he could this time. Fuck it! He had nothing more to lose now. Everyone thought he was dead and if trouble does come for him he will ditch Megumi before it gets too dangerous.

For now, it seems like Megumi was the one in deep shit with all that is going on. He owes him after not killing him like he should have and he owes him after the beating he gave him. However, it makes him realize this kid of his still needs more training. What the hell has Gojo been teaching him anyway? More like codling him probably…

“If we are gonna get going let's go then. I want food on the way though.”

Toji almost demands as if he were the child here and is being dragged along on a trip with his dad.

Megumi knew very little about his dad as if that much wasn't obvious already. The pull he felt was a connection since birth and a wanting, but that didn't mean he KNEW his father. The man could have been an animal abuser and a wanted criminal. Would Megumi's issues and love erase all of that? Toji took revenge for the murder of his mother, but was he the kind of man who fought and stood up for what was right? Megumi was. Part of him felt he had to, another part of him, a greater part of him, believed that was what his life was meant for.

Toji wasn't a sorcerer though. Likely he wasn't raised with those convictions, but he was making a lot of assumptions. All he had was assumptions and a creative mind. Thankfully his father wasn't just sitting by even though he certainly seemed to favor it. Once his father began changing out of his clothes, Megumi looked away and then waited before he's standing right in front of the man. Megumi had to tilt his head back to match those green eyes. So very much the same as they were different. Toji's eyes looked almost haunted.

“ I know I don't, but I still have to for me and for... ”

The man who replaced you. it went unsaid. Megumi's green eyes flickered with sadness, then determination.

“ This is what I've been training for most of my life. I'm willing to sacrifice myself if I have to but I don't want to lose... you. ”

Feeling vulnerable the boy dropped his head until his spiky hairs masked his eyes.

“ I know you're strong but I don't want to drag you into this and get you killed... Toji. ”

[atopvisenyashill]

Might be pretty puritan of me but i cannot bring myself to watch GOT completely by the absurd quantity of sex that there is in the show. I know that the books also have sex but idk It feels like if George actually wants to tell us something trough It and the one in GOT is just there to bait people in because sex sells.

YES like there’s no deeper meaning to like, bronn telling the rains of castamere story with a naked woman in his lap, they just did it that way bc they needed to fit their tiddy quota. and it doesn’t help that the sex scenes in got are kinda notoriously terrible to film & they also weren’t optional for women. they told sophie turner they were giving her a love story & then she got the scripts & she’s marrying ramsay & she’s said (and walked back in a suspicious way) that it was very traumatizing to shoot those scenes. it’s p common knowledge that esme bianco was not fond of being naked all the time. there’s very infamously a moment where the rape scenes w dany & drogo were so badly done that jason momoa had to yell “can someone get her a fucking robe” bc they just like. made emilia chill out naked when they called cut! it’s very difficult to get excited about like, the gendrya sex scene later on for example bc it’s like. did maisie feel pressured into this? it’s not like it’s uncommon! ya carice van houten is very sexy but if she at any point ever said “can i do this scene with my top on” would they have fired & replaced her like they did to the myrcella actress?

and it’s not even to say that george doesn’t have his own hang ups, but cersei isn’t just doing girl in girl to be titillating, there IS a reason for it! ya the way george describes the sex scenes like drogo/dany or the twincest sept sex is maybe kind of weird but there's a point to all of it, he follows those threads in a way the show really doesn't like to. like yeah of course part of jaime and cersei's divorce is jaime showing up and being um, incredibly pushy and rapey next to the dead body of their son, that's how those two use sex with each other, as a weapon, as a way to ignore their real issues, and jaime does it because he's upset about his hand and his attraction to brienne and the resurfacing of his feelings about being a knight and he's taking it out on cersei, while cersei lets it happen because she's grieving, because this is how sex is for her, its someone taking and her being forced to let them, at least with jaime it doesn't hurt. in the show they just like. basically just have him get mad and rape her and then never address it again. she kisses his stump. even when they adapt the stuff that's in the book, they strip it of all the context until it's just another rapey sexy topless scene.

it definitely doesn't help when we have hotd to compare either - yeah obviously they were really pushing the "look we had full frontal male" stuff (because sex sells) but aemond and sylvi and aegon are all Doing Something in that scene! they're not just talking shop at a brothel so we can have some sexy ladies in the back like decorations, like varys and littlefinger and bronn and tyrion are constantly doing.

[witchygagirlwrites]

Can't Cross

Jay Halstead x Kevin's sister Reader

@nevaehstreater18 request

Jay knows there's some lines you don't cross. Like dating yet another partner, especially when she's your friend's little sister. The longer he works at your side the less he cares about those lines.

There were a few benefits to being so close in age to your older brother. With barely eighteen months between you and Kevin it meant that he was your best friend growing up. He went to hang out with his friends? He was bringing you. He got his license? He’s sneaking to teach you how to drive because you were getting yours the next year.

When he went into the academy, you went into the academy. When he fell on Hank Voight’s radar for intelligence, so did you. You were bought up a couple months after Kevin.

The day you walked in Voight took you to the front of the room “All of you know the younger Atwater. She’s the newest member of the team. Make her feel welcome. Jay, you’re her partner”

Jay Halstead, well that man was a freaking menace. Six foot, broad shoulders, gorgeous smile, seafoam blue eyes and completely off limits even before you had the title of his partner.

“Jay, man we know your history with partners. Don't be flirting with my sister” Kevin warned and you saw a blush grace Jay's cheeks as he cut his eyes at you with a small smile “I'll try not to”

You shook your head at Kevin's teasing “Kev, he's known me for years. Being his partner isn't going to flip a switch” Al slid his chair back from his desk and winked at you “Tell em sweetheart”

“Kev! Dammit you drained the coffee!” you had to stop yourself from slamming the pot down. You’d had one cup. He grimaced from where he stood at the sink, sipping out of his mug “Sorry? I’ll buy you a cup on the way in?”

You shook your head with a sigh “I don’t have time. I have to meet Jay at the freaking D.A.’s office to give our testimonies” “That’s the last go around though, isn’t it?” You grabbed your jacket and threw it over your shoulders “Yeah, thank god. One more day stuck in an office filled with lawyers asking me the same question over and over I may very well need a lawyer”

“Yeah I already told Jay if you tried to go over the conference table to tackle ya” he laughed and you raised an eyebrow so he added “I told him to make sure not to hurt you if he had to”

“You two act like my temper is so bad” you scoffed, looking around for your phone. Kevin held it up and grinned “Says the girl who knocked a six foot three suspect flat last week” you glared at him before saying “In my defense he said I was short and asked what I was gonna do. I simply showed him”

He shook his head “I’m glad Jay has the training he does. Makes it easier to handle having you for a partner” you grinned “I feel bad for Kim having to deal with you all day” he laughed “Love ya too”

_______________

You pulled up to the D.A. office and spotted Jay leaning against his truck, holding two cups of coffee. You parked in the empty spot next to him and climbed out before pocketing your keys “Please tell me one of those are mine. I won’t hide your pens for the next week”

A smirk slipped onto his face “Damn and here I was just being nice but I get something in return for it too” he held one out and you took it, taking a sip and smiling when it was just how you liked it. “You’re a good man Jay Halstead. I don’t care what everyone says” he shook his head “Let’s get this done so we can go do some actual work. This crap makes me miss getting shot at”

“I actually agree with you for once! Look what this is doing to our relationship Jay!” you gasped before laughing. He waved towards the building so the two of you headed inside.

Jay watched you move around the bullpen and once again found himself wishing he wasn’t your partner, wasn’t friends with your brother. Well maybe not the friends with Kevin part, he loved Kev but if you weren’t his partner it may be worth the risk of Kevin kicking his ass.

He’d always found you gorgeous. Long before you were pulled up to intelligence. Even when you were sporting the blues. His eyes would find you out of the entire precinct. When you would be tasked to help the unit he always stuck close to your side, when that ex of yours made you cry he’d been tempted to go with Kevin instead of talking Kevin out of violence.

Now? He knew you so much better. Your sense of humor was so freaking dorky but never failed to make him laugh. Your temper had a long fuse, you’d take so much but when it went off you could take out a city block. You were so damn smart, it made his head spin how fast you could figure stuff out. You never backed down from anyone or anything and god help a perp that thought they were getting through you to get to a victim.

He knew how you laughed when you thought someone expected it (like Adam’s jokes) versus when you actually found something funny. He knew your favorite flower, coffee drink, color and holiday. He hadn’t meant to fall for another partner, definitely not a friend’s sister yet here he was. Head over heels and helpless to do anything about it.

“Halstead!” you called Jay’s name again and he shook his head “What?” you grinned “You were staring at me” a blush graced his cheeks before he reached a hand out and gently brushed his knuckles over where you’d caught a punch from a suspect “Just looking at this”

You shook your head “I’m fine. I told you and Kev, I don’t break that easily” he smiled softly “Oh I know sweetheart. Doesn’t mean we don’t reserve the right to want to take care of you” you raised an eyebrow “Sweetheart?”

He ducked his head and let his hand fall away from you “I’m just saying, you can’t blame me and Kev for wanting you in one piece. You mean too much to both of us” you felt your heart flip at his words because they felt like he was saying something without saying it.

“You mean a lot to me too Jay” you all but whispered and a broad smile split his face “Yeah? As a partner though right?” you shrugged “Maybe not just as a partner”

This time he was the one to raise an eyebrow “Your brother would kill me” you leaned closer to him leaving just inches between your lips “Are you saying I’m not worth the risk?” he swallowed hard, eyes going from yours down to your lips then back up before he said “Fuck it” and crashed his lips against yours.

One of his hands gripped your chin, holding you in place while the other went down to your hip, damn near pulling you off your barstool and onto his lap. You could’ve cared less because damn could that man kiss. When he pulled away he pressed his forehead against yours and a soft smile slipped onto his face before he said “I think I can take Kev in a fight” you shook your head with a laugh “I will kick both of your asses if you fight” his smile turned into a grin “Yes ma’am. No fighting”

You pressed another kiss to his lips then spoke with your mouth against his “I could get used to this” “Kissing me?” he asked and you shook your head “No, you saying yes ma’am”

He grinned “You’re so mean to me” you raised your eyes to his and smiled “You must like it” he nodded “Oh I love it”