#nobody misses him. nobody was worried for him. nobody CARED to even ask how he is

[necromosss]

I hope oncoming RPG games that have romance options gives an equal amount of content to players who do not participate in romancing NPCs

[ohdeerfully]

alastor request HAI can it be based on the fact that alastor doesn't sleep, and it's his lover finding out that petting his ears during cuddling makes him fall asleep.

thank you for your service

yess i love sleepy alastor thank u so much anon :D!!

Goodmorning, Love

Alastor x Reader (fluff) TW: none! join my discord! ═══ ◈ ══════════ ◈ ══════════ ◈ ══════════ ◈ ═══

You were well aware of the Radio Demon’s sleep habits. Or, well, lack of sleep habits. You often spent nights in his room, where he would sit with you in bed until you fell asleep and go do whatever the hell he gets up to late at night. You always woke up in an empty room, and often so in the middle of the night, struggling to rest again as a greedy tightness gripped your chest in worry and disappointment.

You understood, though, and tried your best not to let it get to you that you didn’t have his warm body next to you when you woke every morning. But you couldn’t help that twinge of sadness. You weren’t particularly needy or clingy, but would it kill him to stay in bed with you for a single night? And to have a slice of domestic bliss as you woke up?

Obviously. 

You roll your eyes as you lay, staring up at the ceiling. You had just gotten ready for bed, and now waited for said demon to join you for a few hours. Your fingers tapped, impatient, against your chest as you hummed absentmindedly.

“How lovely,” You heard him speak. Tickles of that radio static that always followed him clung to your exposed skin, which was signal enough that he had entered the room had he not announced himself. “What a siren you are, luring me here with that hum of yours.”

You smiled slightly at his comment, scooching over slightly to encourage him over. He obliged, joining you under the covers. He still wore his usual outfit, which made sense considering his tendency to go away all night. You purse your lips at the thought, slightly chewing on the skin.

“Why the face?” Of course he noticed your expression. He always noticed when any emotion tickled your face. You appreciated the genuine tone in his voice, the typical buzz of radio barely detectable in his words. He always got a little softer and kinder when he was alone with you like this.

You appreciated nights with him, being able to see a side of him that nobody else would live to spread word of. You enjoyed feeling a little special, especially to somebody like him.

“Do you think you could stay in,” You asked cautiously, fiddling with your hands as you inched closer to him, pressing your body against his. Even laying, he still seemed much taller than you. You gingerly guided his head down, against your chest as you spoke, hoping the multitasking would keep him from sitting up and rejecting your intimate gestures. “Just for a night. I miss you all night long.”

He allowed his head to lay against you. He did feel tense, of course, letting the back of his head be exposed in this manner as he lay vulnerable on you. It was a strange feeling, but not one he cared to consider for too long. 

“(Y/N),” He began with a sigh. “It’s impossible for me to get much done during the day, what with all the running around Charlie does. Somebody has to keep an eye on that young princess. I prefer to stay awake to get my own errands done at night.” 

I know that, you wanted to say and interrupt his explanatory ramble. You wanted to beg him to understand, just this once. You held in a sigh, watching as his head gently rose and fell with every breath you took. Maybe you should just take this submission from him as good enough.

You gingerly began tangling your fingers through his red hair, brushing out any kinks he may have gotten throughout the day. His tense body seemed to ease slightly, becoming more and more relaxed as you weaved your fingers through the locks.

“You have really soft hair, Al,” You commented, changing the subject. You figured there was no use convincing him. You let your fingers lightly trail upwards, up to his ears. You grazed them slightly with a finger. You touched again. When he made no motion of dislike, you fully began rubbing them. Petting him. You smiled to yourself at the idea of petting the feared Radio Demon. “And your ears are even softer.”

“I try to take care of myself,” He responded proudly. There was another hint of something in his voice, but you couldn’t quite place what it was. But it seemed heavy. “A well groomed man is a successful one.” You absentmindedly agreed as you stroked the velvety fur of his ears, switching back and forth between them and his hair. You had a preference for the ears, though.

You sighed and began humming quietly again. He rarely got so… comfortable, even around you. He always had some sort of guard up, always had his shoulders squared. He almost never became so… loose and vulnerable.

You noticed the clippings of radio frequency had stopped, which was a noise that was ever present in his wake. You had a suspicion why it disappeared, a small grin forming on your face.

Yes, the Radio Demon never slept. But that was a choice he made, not a curse that prevented him. Even demons get tired. You don’t know how Alastor makes it day by day without a wink of rest, but it was apparent that exhaustion had built up in him. He just needed to relax for a second.

You graced your fingers over his fringe, and craned your neck in a way to get a glance at his face. Yeah, you were right. 

He laid there, eyes shut, features relaxed with the lightest grin playing on his face. Even in sleep, you complained. It didn’t really matter. What mattered was the sound of his deep, slow breathing and occasional twitch of his velvety ears. You briefly wondered what the Radio Demon would dream about.

Would he be aggravated with you when he woke up, realizing you had practically cast a sleep spell on him? You didn’t, but the rate of which exhaustion took over may as well have been some sort of magic.

You shut your own heavy eyes, exhaling lightly as you continued to comfort yourself with the texture of his fur and hair. It didn’t take long for you to fall asleep.

You craned your arms and neck as consciousness came back to you, but an unfamiliar weight kept you from getting that good stretch in. Momentarily confused, you blinked open and looked down.

Red and black hair, more of a mess than usual, still took place on your torso. This was a first, and your chest felt like exploding with the glee of seeing Alastor still resting with you. He somehow looked even more relaxed than the night before, his cheek flush against your stomach, squishing his lips up slightly. A light grin was still there.

You gently brushed your fingers over his face, trailing a line around his features with an index finger. His eyes squeezed for a moment, and that static ambience of his slowly, quietly, returned. It was a noise that you had learned to find comfort in. He slowly opened his red eyes, a confused and sleepy daze clouding them. There was a wrinkle in his brow as he roughly propped himself up with an elbow, looking up at you with a furrowed expression.

“(Y/N)..?” He trailed, pausing to take in a shuddering morning yawn through a confused smirk. “Did I… Dear, what time is it?”

You looked at him tenderly. Oh, how cute he was, sleepy like this. Composed like an exhausted kid. Something even you have never seen before.

“Yeah,” You responded to his unspoken question. “It’s probably seven a.m. or so. I dunno.” There wasn’t a clock in your immediate line of sight.” “A.m. …” He said slowly. He sat up fully, looking down in disappointment at his wrinkled day wear. He quickly blinked the sleep from his eyes and managed to bring some composure to himself, but that lick of exhaustion was still prominent. Especially under his eyes.

“Yeah,” You said again, a light chuckle following. “Goodmorning, Al.”

He wasn’t obviously upset, it seemed. Though he probably was too tired to think about it too much yet. Maybe later.

“Well… Goodmorning, love.” He responded, still with a hint of confusion in his voice. “I suppose I accepted your plea from last night.” He brushed at his clothes while he spoke, trying to flatten out the creases that were brought on through a night of rest.

“Maybe more often?” You asked, twiddling your thumbs in anticipation. You already knew the answer, but it was okay. You knew how to keep him in now. You mischievously smirked as he closed his eyes and shook his head.

“Unlikely.”

[cameronluvr]

TENNIS COURT — rafe cameron x kook!reader

summary: you beg rafe to play some tennis with you on your private tennis court, but he gets tired of losing and fucks you right there instead.

warnings: 18+ MDNI, smut, unprotected sex, p in v, semi public sex, risky sex, pet names, just PURE smut in this one — lmk if i missed any! 𖤓

: ̗̀➛ 𝓶𝔂 𝓶𝓪𝓼𝓽𝓮𝓻𝓵𝓲𝓼𝓽 ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

you stand in your backyard, fiddling with your tennis skirt before hearing the door open. you look up with a grin on your face upon seeing your boyfriend in his cute tennis outfit.

“adorable,” you giggle.

“shut up. come on,” he laughs, holding your hand as you walk down the steps of your huge yard which lead to the tennis court. your mom is a tennis player, so having a whole private court in your own backyard was awesome.

you both grab a racket each before walking to opposite sides of the court.

“you’ve played tennis before, right?” you ask, giggling as you swing your racket in your hand. you grew up playing the sport, so you were pretty good at it by now.

“of course i have” he says, getting into position, ready for you to serve the ball. “hm, okay, let’s see who’s better then, rafey” you smirk, both getting into competitive mode.

you swing the ball up into the air, hitting it with your racket, watching as it flies over to rafe’s side. he rushes to hit it, but he completely misses, making you cover your mouth to hide your laugh.

“that didn’t happen.” he says, running to catch the ball with his hand. “okay, you serve then” you chuckle. he’s so cute. he was definitely lying about having played tennis before.

he gets back into position, lining himself up before throwing the ball up and swinging his bat, this time hitting the ball. but, the ball goes the opposite direction to where he wanted it to go, landing in the sidelines.

“fuck,” he frustrated himself.

you can’t help but to laugh at him. you both continue playing, or trying to play before rafe got fed up, tossing his racket aside and walking over to you. “you sure you’ve played tennis before?” you squint with suspicion and a giggle.

“y’know, tennis isn’t really my thing.” he says, laughing it off before pulling you into a hug. you loved sharing these moments together, they were sweet, it was pure love.

“no? then what is?” you grin, looking up at him as your chin rests on his chest. “you, baby” he smirks down at you, his tall figure towering over you.

“yeah?” you smirk, biting your lip slightly. “yeah, you look so fucking sexy in those shorts i can barely think about anything else.” he tells you, reaching his hands around and down to your ass, gripping your cheeks and pulling them up, making you gasp.

“aww, is that why you were so bad at tennis?” you joke, making him separate your ass cheeks slightly which turned you on so bad, and he knew it. “rafe, don’t do that” you whine, knowing your parents were home and you couldn’t do anything.

“why not, baby? hm?” he asks, rubbing your butt to tease you more. “you know why” you whine. “n’aww. you think mommy and daddy will see you out here?” rafe giggles at you being so worried. “duh,” you raise your eyebrows sarcastically.

“my love, we can’t even see the house from here.” rafe tells you, twisting your body around to allow you to see. he points to the bushes surrounding that side of the tennis court, followed by a wall behind it. your parents surely wouldn’t be able to see, but it’s definitely still risky.

“but we’re not gonna fuck out here, silly” you roll your eyes, wishing he’d stop teasing you but you clearly don’t get his point. “says who?” he asks. “wait— really? you wanna fuck here? but— it’s so open..” you widen your eyes, looking around the yard and being able to see your neighbors houses.

“who cares? nobody will see us.” he says as if he’s certain. “how do you know?” you ask, still looking around but his hand gently grabs your face, pulling it forward to face him. “just trust me. don’t be so paranoid, i got you. it’s just me and you, gorgeous” he reassures you, smiling before dropping his hand and pulling you close again.

his hands went straight back to your ass cheeks, but this time up your skirt. “rafeee…” you whine, letting out a moan as he toys with your ass, knowing that was a weakness of yours.

“shh… let me make you feel good, baby” he whispers in your ear, leaning his head down to your neck to kiss it. you trust him, letting him feel around with your body before slipping his hand down the front of your skirt and playing with your pussy, making you moan.

after kissing and touching each other for a little, you both move over to the side of the court where there is a seating area. without hesitation, he spins you around and bends you over the seat. you giggle at his sudden movements, feeling as he slips his hand up your skirt again, only this time to move your panties to the side.

he rubs your pussy a bit, “mhm’ so wet for me” he says, making you moan a bit louder when he slips two fingers in you. your own hand covers your mouth, while the other kept you held up. “now, now, don’t make them hear you” rafe lets out a laugh as a huff through his nose, and you put your head down in embarrassment.

“mmm” you hum at the feeling of his fingers sliding in and out of you. “that’s it, baby, you like that?” he asks, smirking and loving the sound of your wet pussy. “y-yes… god” you shut your eyes and leave your mouth agape. if his fingers were enough to please you, how does his cock feel?

“you want my dick, princess? hm?” he asks, softly raising the pitch in his voice. “mhm.. please” you nod, making his smirk grow bigger though you can’t see his face.

“you wanna take me like this, from behind?” he asks, seeing you nod again. “atta’ girl” he pulls his fingers out of you, slapping your ass and making you jolt before he begins pulling his shorts down a bit, allowing his long, hard dick to spring out.

he moves more forward, rubbing his tip along your wet folds, making you let out a long hum. “i need it…” you say after he teases your pussy for a while. “you need it?” he asks. “yeah, please..” you beg.

he wastes no time to fulfil your needs. he positions himself near your entrance, slightly pushing the tip in before grabbing your hips with both hands, pulling you back whilst thrusting forward, making him instantly slam into you. you cover your mouth again, squeezing it this time. you couldn’t stay quiet, not with rafe inside of you.

“stay quiet, doll, y’don’t wanna get caught, do you?” he asks, knowing the obvious answer. “fuck… i- i can’t…” you moan underneath your hand, but it wasn’t quiet enough. rafe takes over, nudging your hand out the way to grip your mouth for you.

his grip was hard, but it was making a difference. your moans are muffled, only being able to breathe through your nose now. you grab his hand with yours, holding onto it as he fucks you rough.

the odd few sounds of cars driving past, windows slamming and dogs barking caught you off guard. “relax, doll” he tells you, shushing you as he removes his hand from your mouth to grab a fistful of your hair instead. you moan, covering your mouth with your hand again. you seriously didn’t want your parents to hear you, but boy, was rafe making it so difficult.

“fuck… i love you, pretty girl” he lets out a moan, gripping your hair tighter as he thrusts deeper into you. “i… i love you more—” you struggle to say in between deep breaths caused by his pace. “impossible.” he chuckles, showing his perfect teeth as he pounds into you from behind.

you let out some muffled moans underneath your hand, making rafe smirk and admire how he has you acting. reaching your hand down the front of your skirt to rub your clit made rafe harder than he already was. he loves it so much when you touch yourself in front of him.

“fuck, that’s it, princess… rub your pussy f’me,” he moans, thrusting into you at a perfect pace to hear your mumbled but pornographic moans. “mhmmm..” you hum, rubbing your clit at a fast speed.

he keeps fucking into you, hard and fast, both of you getting sloppier and wetter by the minute. “fuck rafe… i— i feel so close” you close your eyes, roughly gripping onto the seat you’re bent over.

“fuckk, let it go, princess” he tells you, rolling his eyes into the back of his head at how amazing you feel. “i… i am” you moan, your body starting to shake as you come on his cock. he keeps going, thrusting back and forth, in and out of you, feeling and seeing your juices leak out from the sides of his length inside you.

just seconds later, he finishes too, right inside of you. luckily, you’re on birth control. you both ride out your highs for a few moments, before he slowly pulls out of you. “fuck, ‘ts a little messy” he laughs, watching as his cum leaks out of your pussy and down your thigh.

“rafe, help” you quietly laugh, staying bent over the chair as he quickly looks for something to wipe you with. there’s nothing around, so he takes his shirt off and wipes your dripping pussy with it, “rafe, is that your shirt?” you ask, turning to look over your shoulder.

“it was the only thing i could use, alright?” he laughs it off, wiping away the cum that was dripping down your legs. after quickly cleaning yourselves up, with rafe’s shirt, unfortunately, you both head back inside to change into your normal clothes and out of your tennis ones.

walking into the house hand in hand with rafe, you walk past your mom and dad in the kitchen. “have fun playing tennis?” your mom asks with a smile as she prepares dinner. “yeah, i won” you turn around and giggle as your parents laugh, watching you flick your hair to show off. “yeah, yeah, i’ll practice more. you gotta’ teach me some time, mrs y/l/n.” he says to your mom as you both walk up the stairs. “of course, sweetheart” your mom smiles.

“aww, if only she knew how much of a slut you were… for me, not tennis.” he whispers in your ear as you get to the top of the stairs, both laughing as you enter your bedroom together.

SMUT SMUT SMUTTTTTT😩😩😩 3rd piece of work uploaded in ONE DAY? go me hahahahah. HOPE YA ENJOY I LOVE YALLLLLL <33 NOT PROOFREAD BTW. I’M IN A RUSH I GTG

@cameronluvr

[pedge-page]

Ok can I request something maybe out there. but sedation kink with doctor Joel. like I’m kind of into the idea of doctor/scientist prepping me for an exam or study and putting me under, reassuring and stroking my face because I’ve never been under anesthesia before and he wipes my few tears as I drift off. then he’s fondling me, putting my legs in stirrups, and observing my reactions to different stimuli like fingers, a brush, vibrator, mouth, putting cooling/tingly cream on my nipples/clit, etc., as I’m out and making notes and taking polaroids of my reactions like little twitches and noises, how wet I get, if my nipples react (if he can make me cum by just my nipples) edging me and im making little tired whines but eventually making me cum a few times while I’m out and he’s just watching what happens from down there and talking into his little mic that’s recording all this. then if I start to come to too early he tuts and asks if I want to stay under and I’m still out of it but drowsily say yes because I’m confused but feels good and he (safely) gives me some a little bit more of sedation just enough to keep me in that floaty place and starts fucking me so good that I actually come to while he’s inside and I fully come to as he’s removing the monitors and telling me how good I was for him and asking if it felt good and he’s giving me some water and kissing me telling me it’s okay to sleep because I’m still tired as he cleans me up so he can take us both home.

A Doctor’s Care

Doctor!Joel Miller x F!Reader

Nonny, you practically wrote this yourself. Please give yourself a massive pat on the back, because this was a fantastic idea. I've been foaming at the mouth about it for months (I'm so sorry It took so long!) Hope you're still around to read this!

Warnings : virgin!Reader, corrupt!doctor, corruption kink, sedation kink, non-con, oral, throat fucking, squirting, sex toys, nipple play, unprotected sex, kinda DDDNE-ish , groping, slight breeding kink, pussy pronouns, foot fetish, uhhhh please lmk if I'm missing anything

18+ ONLY

- - - -

“Now, you can start counting up to ten.”

You take a deep breath, trying you best to ignore the needle he had just inserted into your arm. “One, two, th-three, fooour, f-fi…”

He softly brushes your smoothed cheek, watching as your eyelids sag, the heavy lure of sleep washing over your entire body. Your muscles sink into the bed, eyes barely being able to close fully. You had never felt more relaxed. Up to this point, you were an axnious mess, but you knew you were in the good, trustworthy hands of Doctor Miller.

A stray tear wells up, threatening to spill. He smiles warmly and brushes it away for you. He doesn’t want to see you cry when you don’t even know why.

If you were a little more observant, you would have questioned why it was only Dr Miller moving forward with an anesthesia-induced operation. Typically there’s always more than one practitioner in the room. You would have wondered why nobody else was in the hospital at all.

 He told you he could make a special booking for your physical exam, just the two of you, to help alleviate any anxiety about the scary aura of a hospital, the sick people roaming around and watching, peeping in through the doors. He made sure you were the only one here today, to help you get comfortable and have nothing to worry about.

Of course, it is Sunday. Nobody operates on Sunday. The hospital was completely empty save for his office and this room.

Not only is this out of standard procedure, this was off the books.

This was illegal, and you had no idea.

“Dr. Miller, log 47,” he says into his little recorder. “Patient is sedated fully. Heartrate and breathing—“ he gently hovers his fingers rigor below your nose, his eyes scanning the beeping monitor next to you—“ normal and stable. Beginning examination.”

Maybe, if you were smart, you would have also questioned why you needed to be sedated for a basic physical exam. You didnt ask what a physical really entailed, which gave him the perfect excuse for... well. This.  

Joel had offered you some privacy before where he left his office to allow you to change your day clothing into the sterile gown. Such gentlemanly, professional attitude is tossed out the door as he doesn’t hesitate to unfasten the front, popping the buttons off one by one. He starts at your chest, exposing the silk smooth curve of your breasts. “Beautiful, healthy body,” he breathes. Every entimeter of your skin is observed closely. He continues, making his way down to your stomach, admiring your naval with his thick hand petting softly over your belly and unbuttoning down your hips. “I can already see excellent shape for reproduction, should she choose…”

He grins, now having you fully exposed to him under the bright light. Joel places his recorder in his chest pocket, leaving the mic on so he can continue to do his work with both steady hands.

“Fuck me,” he groans, the tent in his slacks already pressing against the cool metal table under you. He adjusts himself slightly, no concern for the perversion of his hard cock jutting out in the open as he brushes it against your legs and arms while circling you.

Dr. Miller was a practiced man. He'd lifted enough unconscious body parts throughout his career, being careful yet precise. It took him no time to hoist your legs into the cradled bend of the stirrups, spread wide and slightly elevated so that your core was exposed.

“Testing reactivity,” he says before pressing your feet with his thumbs. He massages your arch, feeling the tendons shift and resist. His lips ghost the ball of your foot. "Smooth here too. The skin of the feet haven't started callousing yet." Joel’s wet tongue glides along the crevice, thick and warm, before sucking on your toes, lubricating them with his tongue over and over again. He moans, closing his eyes and palming his bulge. You don’t seem to stir at all, but he does briefly catch the way your eyeballs shift underneath your lids, brows drawing then releasing.

He pushes the stirrups forward more, hands on the backs of your thighs until your knees are bent, as if ready to birth.

“Very healthy looking patient below the waist. I’ll need to taste more—test more before the insertion.”

Joel shifts along your side, and with no hesitation, grasps your tits roughly. He scrunches and squeezes tightly, pushing your nipples out until they’re hardened and swollen. He loves the way they feel in his big palms. It was last week when you let him do a breast exam, he was able to fondle them to his liking. He wanted to give them a taste then, but knew you weren’t ready for that.

Consciously, anyway.

A hot month descends upon your breast, and he glances up once again to see your reaction. He rolls your nip around and around before biting lightly. That receives a flinch. He smiles, sucking harder. They’re so warm and firm in his mouth, and he can’t help but suckle along them with fat suctioning sound each time he releases. “Very good potential for milk. Bet she’d make the sweetest milk.” He draws away, grabbing something from the table next to him. “Documenting …” he dabs some freezing cream directly onto your nipple and snaps a picture when your head jolts in surprise. Little sounds get lodged in your throat as he rubs it into your skin, kneading your mounds like dough. “Pretty thing…” he whispers seductively. 

He alternates between his hot mouth and the cold cream, watching your head toss slightly here and there. Your heartrate had also picked up, beeping a little more fervently. Nothing major, but a few beats per minute quicker than before. 

“We’re gonna stress her breathing next,” he sighs, moving up above your head. He feels your collar bone, working his hands up along your esophagus and underneath your neck. Pressing slightly to watch how much further your chest expands for air to ensure you’re still adjusting breath properly. 

Dr Miller unzips his trousers, his hard length falling free and slapping your forehead. He chuckles lazily, rolling it over and over, his tip nudging your nose and closed eyes. You’re so compliant like this. Not even a peep of protest as he nestles his balls overtop your sockets and pushes his head against your soft lips. 

“Seeing how well she can take …foreign objects…obstructing the jugluar.”

He presses in, your lips parting of their own accord to accomodate the intruder. “Ughhh,” he growls. His hands splay along the table, inching himself forward with a roll of his hips. Your jaw opens wider, forced to take the growing girth of his member. A strangled noise hiccups in your throat, and he immediately draws out. The monitor by your side beeps loudly before returning to a regular pace.

He aligns himself again and fucks your mouth, this time further than before until the mushroom tip is bulging in your throat.

“Ahhhhhhhhhhh,” he moans heavenly. He pulls out, lets you breathe, then forces it deeper.  Again and again until you’re taking him for five seconds at a time, deeper and deeper, the table rattling with his incessant humps. “Fuck..you take that, swallowing my cock like a princess, you take cock so good little slut.”

He thrusts in and out until he’s on the verge of cumming. Slipping his cock out the final time, he grips the base, growling to keep his orgasm down. He’d been thinking about it a long time, where he’d defile you last with his seed. As tempting as your tight throat was, he knew there was better ways to make you his confidential patient, forever and always. 

Your vital signs were steady again, although more elevated than you started. Your head twitched to the side slightly, eyeballs rolling under your eyelids. Your body can sense something is happening externally, but cannot rouse itself to intercept. 

He smiles, stroking your spit stained cheeks. “You’re doin’ very well, sweet pea.” its one of his favorite things about these types of exams. Watching how much a patient's instinct tries to fight his ministrations. Yet failing under the sedation and trusting senses of its owner.

For the next hour, Dr. Miller plays with your body. He’s inserted a bullet vibrator up your vaginal walls, controlling its speed and intensity on the little device. With each change in setting, your body reacted differently. Your hips bucked involuntarily, head swayed side to side. Hums of pleasure bubbled in your chest and out your nose, straining to make a coherent noise. He watched, spreading your folds so your little clit was perfectly on display. She throbbed, swelling to an engorged state. So vibrantly colored, filled with blood as he sets her nerves ablaze. 

He’d press his warm lips to her before patching it with a cubed ice. Your body didn’t like that, stomach tensing and knees wanting to lock. He had to get the stirrups tightened around your calves to keep you spread open for him. 

“That’s my girl,” he whispers quietly against your thigh, his plush lips ghosting the inside. He’s left his mic on recording, giving himself the freedom to savor your goosebumps for himself. 

Dr Miller circled around you again, viewing your exposed chest. Your nipples were stiff, and he makes note about how erect they’d become since starting your test. He presses his mouth there, his fingers dancing south to come in contact with your drooping pussy. He’s got a little cup underneath your butt, to capture any of your juices that might leak from his ministrations. For extra (taste) testing in the future.

With his mouth on your breast and three fingers rubbing your clit in clockwise motion, Joel suckles and fingers you with deadly precision.

 “Trying to make the patient—“ his tongue circles over your nipple thrice before nipping at your nipple, sucking it to a point—“reach climax.” 

He spanks your pussy, rewarding himself with a quiver from your body. “That’s it babygirl, you feel that?” He slaps it again, your body jolting, but his teeth sink further into the flesh of your boob to keep your chest in place.

He removes his hand entirely, focusing solely on sucking your tits. There’s a little device wedged inside you, not unlike the bullet vibrator, but this one can sense contractions. It connects to a monitor across the room, recording the pulses inside your pussy.

“That’s it—I see it—she’s working up to it—“ he sucks harder on your tits, swallowing his own saliva, eyes desperately strained to see your cunt reflected back on him on the TV and the matching pulses growing next to it.

The lines reach their heightened point, and your body wreathes appropriately as you cum. Your poor little cunny, contracting around nothing as you orgasm from his tongue on your breasts alone. 

“I want to see if I can just—“ he slips his hand back down to your pussy, diving three fingers in at once and rapidly squelching upward towards that gummy part inside. 

Suddenly, you let out an audible yelp, knees folding inward as liquid gushes from your opening. 

“Oohhhh yes, that’s a good girl, that’s a good girl!” He praises, smirking as you continue to squirt all over his palm and splash onto the floor. The fucking cup wouldn’t capture all of it, an he’d have to really clean up. But he wasn’t expecting such promising results. 

“She’s well hydrated for sure.”

By the way you shake your head, eyes starting to peep over, it doesn’t seem like you knew you could squirt either.

“Shhhh,” he hums, putting his palm over your eyes to block the light. “Rest now, you’re in good hands. Do you want to keep sleeping?” He glances over at the IV bag, already dripping another extra droplet into your system. “You’re so warm and safe here. Let’s rest a little more.”

You let out a sigh, eyes closed and nodding slightly before falling to the side, back into a deep state of unconsciousness.

How pathetic you can’t even tell your lower half is soaking wet of your own doing.

He makes his way back to stand between your legs, kicking away the little rolling stool. 

“See how well this pussy takes a real poundin.’” He pumps his shaft along your slick entrance, dabbing it repeatedly and grinning at how wet it sounds. He’d been edging himself this whole time. Not just this evening, but the entire few months he’s been you ever doting, caring, overly invested doctor, waiting to get you right here, spread out for him.

“She’s still so soft, so tight,” he gulps with a pant. Your chest was inflating up and down more quickly, so he knew you could feel something happening. “You’re doin’ great, baby. Just—just a little more—“

He notches the tip along your weeping hole. “She’s so patient for me.” He wonders if you’ll feel this in the morning when you wake.

Sliding in the first inch, Joel opens his jaw in silent prayer, head tilted back towards the ceiling. He pushes in again, feeling the first bit of resistance from your walls. Shit, he knew you were a virgin. You had marked it embarrassingly during one of the first appointments where he intimately needed to know all your sexual activities. You’d admitted having masturbated, which he encouraged as healthy, though the truth was so that he wouldn’t have to try too hard to stretch you out at this exact moment. Luckily he had loosened you up pretty well with his fingers and tongue this good hour, so when the good doctor pulls out then thrusts half his length in one go, you can’t offer any more rebellion to it.

When he finally bottoms out, he lets out a satisfied whimper. His cheek turned upright into a selfish, wicked grin. “Fuck, your pussy looks so good around my cock,” he says loudly, taunting the fact that you couldn’t retort even if you could hear him properly. He hasn’t had any relevant, professional notes to take for a long while now, instead resorting to little ‘fuckfuckfuck’s as he thrusts his hips in and out of your now loosened cunt. 

He reaches for the wand vibrator, switching it on and positioning it right at your clit, against the base of his dick. Its whirs to life, making your whole body contract in on itself.

“Auuggghhhh fuck yeah—fuck that’s it sweet girl—just feel that—feelin’ it so good.” He continues to fuck you open, biting his tongue and watching you shift with each rut into your unconscious body. Your eyelashes flutter, instinct fighting to get you awake. Jesus he wants it—wants you to wake up right fucking now, see what he’s doing to you. The way your eyes would float, confused, coming into focus as the trusted doc is battering your once pure insides in the name of your health. 

You didn’t know he’d already been fired and relocated from 6 different hospitals across the country for this exact reason. Granted, most anyone could report was inappropriate behavior and groping. He’d have his way with girls like you, in this exact position before. If anybody ever fully caught on to this, he’d be strung up in jail by now.

Whines bubble up from your chest as he gropes your tit with one hand, swirling the wand around your nub with the other. It takes a few minutes of on and off before he feels you clenching around him and cumming. Your back arches slightly, gasping through your mouth. He has to steady himself with his hands flat on either side of the observation table, hunched over and ramming into you while you’re still squeezing the fuck out of him. He likes the way your juices splash down his thighs and balls with each puncture. He’s a good doctor though, making sure you wouldn’t bleed or tear throughout this rough ordeal. He’s a proper man when it comes to his practice.

“Shit, shit—babydoll—fuckyeah this pussy—I’m not gonna be able to give this one up--“ He hums to himself, eyes shut.

You barely register the fact that you’re coming to. Your eyes are slitted but the tunnel vision is still so strong. Foggy and muffled, you can feel your body moving but can’t bring your muscles to do anything about it.

“D-J-oel,” you rasp, eyes fluttering close again as you definitely feel something deep within your stomach. You’re still so out of it, half your senses fading and drawing while being stimulated, unable to fully reach your brain. Your body is screaming to wake up though despite the tempting lull back to sleep. So you open your eyes again, rollin them around you. Your vision becomes clearer, still blurring but able to make outlines and lights now. Still in the hospital, still with the bright lights, still with Doctor Miller—

Doctor Miller, standing between your spread, naked legs with his wet, hard and long cock disappearing in and out of you. Doctor Miller, cursing and staring at where your bodies join, oblivious to your aroused state. Doctor Miller, telling you sweet words like how he’s gonna take you home, he’s gonna keep you like this till you’re full of him, then he's really gonna watch you grow, none of it really making coherent sense to you at the moment.

But there is that feeling inside, deep within your core that’s growing. Everything feels so wet and hot at the same time. He’s incessantly rubbing something delicious, electrocuting your nerves to an awakened state so far more than anything else.

You let out a strangled moan, and his head shoots up, watching you roll your neck and look around. Your sounds get louder, jaw flexing to let them loose.

He's been caught, and he doesn’t stop. “Fuck-fuck babygirl that’s it—M’takin real good care of ya—watch…watch me…watch me when ya cum—“ he groans, gripping your hips and slamming into you almost abusively. 

“Ah-ah-ah-ah!” You wail, unable to tear your limited vision away from him as he ruts like a dog in heat, his hips humping your ass. 

He lets out a startled bark, stilling inside you all the way. That makes your eyes fly wide open, more awake now than before as you start to cum around him. You don’t know what’s happening, don’t understand it and yet your body only knows pleasure, and that’s what your brain releases all over your insides and out. He’s so warm inside, filling you with something hot and sticky. 

There’s a thin sheen of sweat on you, and even greater on him. He pulls out, mummuring some  praise at your pearly, pulsing slit. Your heart is pounding, but body exhausted, like you’d been at this for a while now. You can’t move your head, and your eyes feel heavy once again.

“Hey, hey,” he coos softly next to you. He cups your face in his big hands, bringing you to look at him. “Hey there, angel. How we feeling? You did amazing.”

He feels gentle, touching your fuzzy spots all over again like honey. “Mmm,” you nod. 

He smiles, beginning to turn off the monitors and unhook you from the sensors. “Did such a great job for me, never had a patient as good as you.” He kisses your forehead, long and comforting. now with the needle out, you still feel drowsy, but with his reassuring words and touches, you don’t feel the need to get up any time soon.

“Here, drink this—“ he hands you a little platic cup of water with a straw. You take a few sips, suddenly feel a massive, near painful pressure in your throat, like something had been lodged there not long ago. Coughing slightly, you give him back the cup, falling back against the headrest.

“Shhh, it’s okay. No need to fight it. You can keep resting.” He kisses you on the lips, silencing any protest. Your brain still feels so floaty, you don’t even question the way his tongue swipes along your teeth. You don’t care, enjoying the way he’s treating you so well after the procedure. He makes you feel safer than ever.

“Gonna clean you up now. Take you home.”

Of course, you don’t think about it, as he makes you feel so at home now. You quickly fall back asleep. Joel wheels you out of the room, down towards his un-registered truck and into the back where he whisks you away to your very new, very permanent, very secluded "home." 

- - - -

Taglist:

@harriedandharassed @lola8888673 @its-nebuleuse @zliteraturehoe @merz-8 @joeldjarin @pascalscoffin @pedroshotwifey @ghostslillady @innerpersonunknown @missladym1981 @mrsoharaxx @survivingandenduring @milla-frenchy @cockykookiee @fairytale07 @daddy-din @pedropascalsbbg @spookyxsam @somehopeatlast @millercontracting @pedrostories @mishala005 @theoraekenslover @animez96 @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @puduvallee @cassiecasluciluce @loohoop @himboelover @callsignwidow @wintersquirrel @fluffygoffpanda @picketniffler @bbyanarchist

[kiss-me-muchoo]

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐧 𝐟𝐫𝐮𝐢𝐭 || 𝐌𝐚𝐫𝐜𝐮𝐬 𝐀𝐜𝐚𝐜𝐢𝐮𝐬 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐱 𝐋𝐮𝐜𝐢𝐮𝐬 𝐕𝐞𝐫𝐮𝐬

part one: here || part two: something real

summary_ having an affair with General Acacius overseas while conquering lands turned into a problem after coming back to Rome, when you fell for a gladiator that turned out to be a missing prince.

warnings_ CRINGE, girthy age gap (legal) (I’m 20, sorry) historical inaccuracy, angst, violence, gore, animal death, sexism and misogyny, fluff but angst, a lot of canon divergence bc I said so. NO PROOFREAD, BEWARE!

note_ I can’t remember which year the movie is set in, I can’t remember many things but let me know if I fucked up too much. And listen to fallen fruit from Lorde while reading.

♪ ♫ Pedro playlist

♫ ♪ Paul playlist

✰ Index (+ fics here)

𖦹°⭒˚｡⋆ 𓆇𓆸⋆｡𖦹°⭒˚｡⋆ 𓆇𓆸⋆｡𖦹°⭒˚｡⋆ 𓆇𓆸

The sea was a free land. Nobody could conquer it because there wasn’t anything valuable floating around. Perhaps at the bottom of the ocean, a treasure may lay, but no man had shown the desire to dive into the deep.

The screams of the innocents are loud enough to make you feel empathy for them. But Acacius had trained you to put a mask of neutrality when leading war.

Loving the most effective soldier of Rome was your little secret. He married the daughter of an old emperor and he fought to get her privileges and prevent her from danger.

Always the insane little girl running around the palace, rambling about plants, the stars, a dream of Rome in flames. It was enough to be secretly sent to a scribe's university in Egypt for some time.

Upon your return, not much had changed, only that your father, once lead of the council, then the wise of Rome had died. Consequently, your evil stepbrothers were crowned emperors. They named you a soldier and made sure you were at every battlefront, hoping for your death.

But your general trained you well, and with months of practice, you ended up tangled up with him on his sheets in Greece.

Adultery was considered a crime in Rome and you’d give the perfect reason to your brothers to burn you like a witch. Or worse, to send you to fight at the arena of the Colosseum.

But the people who accompanied you and Acacius overseas were loyal and couldn’t care less if you had an older man fucking you each night. They only cared about you being a good soldier on the battlefront and being a good princess in Rome.

With a couple of hours left to be home again, you had your wounds checked. Conquering Numidia was one of the last African cities to be marked by the Romans and your brothers desperately wanted to own it. Only a few burns scattered across your leg and your shoulder needed stitches were the price to pay.

The wooden floor creaked and the general turned around alert but as soon as he saw you, he seemed to calm down.

Your arms wrapped around him and he immediately had to lean and kiss you. His lips tasted like devotion, peace, and lust. Acacius always grabbed your hips first. Then he moved to your waist, only to end up caressing your cheeks as his lips kept marking you his.

“What did the doctor say?” asked Acacius as he gasped for air.

“Nothing to worry about…” You nodded at him and he turned his back to you again, looking at his open windows, to the sea.

“What about yours? How is the scar on your nose?”

“It’s fine. Could’ve been worse” You walked towards him, sensing he had bathed like you as well, his hair looked perfectly curly and you couldn’t help but smile.

You could stay looking at the horizon forever, just because he was by your side. The sound of the waves calmed your mind after another day of calamities brought by war.

“For those who chose the sea, greatness waits at the end of the rainbow,” you said smiley. But the general remained stood silent.

“Those are ludicrous tells, the truth is that even war has infected the sea as well.”

“Because we chose to fight, then yes, the sea is also an arena. But if we chose not to, the way will not depict war” his eyes kept looking at you, completely fixated and even threatening, like Acacius was trying to understand how much you were judging him.

“We do this because we don’t have any other choice, princess y/n,” Acacius said, finally turning to look at you.

“We could run away, to the south, the islands of the Tyrrhenian Sea are empty, nobody wants to live there” your voice trembling, nervous and waiting for his response. He stared at nothing, probably thinking. And that made you uneasy.

“I can’t leave Rome, I have to go back to…” he said coldly.

“Your wife….Right”

Silence. Even the sea seized the sound of the waves.

“Haven’t you told her?”

“What’s there to be told? I said this was only a thing of passion and lust” You bit your tongue at his harsh words.

“Was it? Would you say that all those nights you shared your past with me meant nothing, Marcus?”

There it was. His most personal name, that one nobody used. The general got closer to you, paying attention to your face. Princesses did not have scars, but you did. He wanted to say so much, but he couldn’t. You noticed how his fingers were about to trace the pink scar on your chin but he moved away.

“I was drunk most of the nights, doping the pain” Finally your eyes crystallized.

“Do you love Lucilla, General?” His steps stopped then turned around to face you one last time.

His eyes looked doubtful but soon landed on his feet.

“… I do love her” you nodded, holding the tears and bursting out of his room in anger.

“Of course you do”

Your disappointment was so evident that Acacius was able to look at your face reddening and tears falling freely. He could only sigh and go back to pack his things and get ready to arrive in Rome again.

If only you knew…

…

The crowds of Rome couldn’t stop screaming your name. It was “PRINCESS Y/N!” and “ACACIUS!” everywhere.

You were no hero, you just wanted a peaceful life in a free Rome with the man you loved. And you can feel his hand brushing yours while his left salutes the parade of people chanting both of your names. The truth is you have no purpose but to serve your brothers and pretend that is your life.

The twins always hated you. Their mother was a wealthy woman but yours was the emperor’s true love. The twins used to pull your hair and always picked poisonous berries to give you as a meal while being toddlers. It got worse as everyone noticed you were your father’s favorite. And with him gone, you were utterly alone in the world.

Your clumsy steps made you arrive later. There was no crown for you waiting like it had been for Acacius. Geta and Caracalla were talking to him. And when you noticed the sword in the general’s neck, your face went serious.

“Do not forget the privileges we’ve made for your wife” you heard Geta saying.

“Same benefits we’re making for your whores, frater” The twins turned to look at you, quickly releasing Acacius and going straight to you. Their golden armors were a mere matter of display. They could barely wield a sword. They were bad with the bow and arrow and their reflections were poor too. They were good with numbers and shapes, but that wasn’t much in the city they shaped. One full of segregation and violence.

“Dear, soror… you’re back…” you think Geta gets closer to hug you, but his hand has raised and he gives you a sharp slap across the cheek.

“Dazzling and with such a big mouth as always” he added while you looked down, your cold hand against the reddening skin and sending him the worst look you had.

“Leave the princess alone, emperor. We should be focusing on the games ahead. We brought many slaves that some of them could fit as gladiators” Acacius said, looking affectionately at you, with disguise.

Caracalla only laughs in your face and his monkey reaches you for some seconds, but your brother pulls him away quickly. You wonder how far his disease has spread. Before leaving Rome, he was completely against seeing a doctor.

“Acacius is right, Geta. Let’s focus on the games” the twins agreed but sure, they had to humiliate you one last time.

“Alright then. But the next time I see you, dear y/n… I don’t want to see your hair down freely. You look like a whore and not the princess of Rome” he whispered loud enough to make everyone hear. But finally, the twins were gone.

“Are you alright?” The general asked but you rolled your eyes.

“I don’t need your help, Acacius. I’ve dealt with Geta and Caracalla since the day I was born. Which was before we met you” he sighed, understanding you were still mad from your last conversation. He appreciated your free hair, long and healthy despite the fires you went through while in combat.

“I just don’t want to see you hurt. It’s enough they sent you to serve in the war when you should be here, safe from the horrors”

“Go home to your wife, Acacius. Your dinner will be cold…” you spit out with a bitter tone before walking away, disappearing through the walls of the palace.

…

Standing naked, dripping, and waiting for servants to dry you up, you stare at the dress hanging in your room. It had been months since you wore a dress, used to armor and tight braids, and the sensation of the fabric felt odd.

As a kid, you wished to befriend your servants, but they remained professional and apologetically brushed away your questions. Which made you feel even more lonely while they dressed you up; placing gold jewelry and rings with quartz, spraying perfume, and cleaning your teeth. Geta and Caracalla always stole the sweets from you as kids, you thanked them because instead, it was Caracalla who ended up with a decayed tooth and a gold one as a replacement.

“You’re ready, princess,” said one of the servants and you smiled at her as a thank you.

The whole time while you and your brothers awaited to arrive at the Colosseum, you ignored them. You sneaked away as soon as you arrived. Knowing the place like the palm of your hand, you took a secret passage, in hopes to go and tend your horse to delay the entertainment as long as you could.

Gladiator fights were of no interest to you. But the people loved it. Their ignorance made you understand why they hadn’t tried to throw your brothers from the thrones.

But being months away made you forgetful of the architecture of the Colosseum, forgetful enough to end up in the cells of gladiators. Looking perplexed, you gulped nervously. There were indeed many slaves brought.

Being the only woman there made you the center of attention. Even worse when you looked exactly like a princess would do.

“Princess y/n, What are you doing here?” Asked one of the high-rank soldiers, running towards you.

“I wanted to tend my horse. It was brought here by accident” you replied, eyes wandering through the cells, noticing the people inside them were full of new people, probably from Numidia. You wonder if they recognized you.

Your eyes met the ocean-blue ones of a man, he certainly recognized you as he looked at you with anger. You gulped once again, looking away from him. But his gaze had been so strong that you didn’t hear a servant come running from the end of the hallway.

“A TIGER ESCAPED! A TIGER ESCAPED! CLOSE THE DOORS!” he screamed and soon everyone went into panic mode. You didn’t have enough time to process what he said and do anything. You stood there confused for some seconds. The violent roars of the animal could be heard closer. You looked around trying to find a weapon.

“Stay behind me, princess,” said the same soldier but you didn’t trust him so you went to grab a bow and arrow. The prisoners yelled and quickly you understood they were having a private show. They hated you for being Roman, and they thought they would see you dying.

But you wouldn’t give them that satisfaction as much as you sympathized with them.

The tiger appeared, big and imposing. The animal was angry, visibly distressed, and ready to attack.

You had killed men, but an animal was different. There was no exact description of what to do. Just pure instinct. So you try to calm yourself before the tiger spots you and the soldier, who are the only ones that remain vulnerable. The guards closed the entrances as protocol, unbeknownst that you were there. And it had been too late to use the secret passage.

You felt the same man’s eyes on you and indeed, he looked carefully at you, probably wondering what would be your next move.

“PRINCESS, STAY AWAY!” The soldier screamed when the tiger came running towards you two.

The tiger jumped and threw the soldier, roaring as it tried to kill him. So you ran away in hopes of aiming at the eye of the animal to gain time. Your hands shaking and you could feel your legs get tangled up in the fabric of your dress. But your nervousness isn’t visible as your hands work on getting ready for the arrow. You don’t have time to calculate, the tiger has already bitten the soldier’s fingers.

You hit it very near the eye and the animal roared even louder, in pain. That’s when you spotted the sword the soldier had left behind, where you threw yourself to, as the tiger had tried to attack you again. The man with blue eyes pushed the sword towards you from inside the cell and you didn’t even look to thank him, you only grabbed the weapon and rolled to the right before the animal could scratch your face and kill you.

You heard the soldier cry out in pain but you couldn’t help him. Thinking you could end the beast chasing you, you failed, sinking the sword in the ribs of the animal. You felt a deep scratch in your arm and you cried out. Anger quickly builds up as you know you had to get out of there before everyone at the coliseum found out. The tiger roared one last time and before it could throw you to the sandy ground you grabbed another arrow and directly pierced the eye of the animal. Blood starts pouring and before the tiger can try to bite and break your neck, your hands end up in its mouth.

The fangs were dangerously digging into your hands and more blood started coming. Scarlet droplets fell all over your face and you didn’t care. You screamed in pain and pulled all the strength in your body to put the pressure on your arms and hands. The men inside the cells cheered and made you even more angered. Until you had torn open the tiger’s mouth, breaking its jaw and killing the animal.

Breathe….

Pushing the dead animal aside, you sighed, resting on the dirty floor for a couple of seconds before taking a long breath and standing up.

Every man inside each cell looked at you quietly. What’s there to say?

Five guards open the main entrance and look confused at the mess, then at you tending the heavily injured soldier.

“Bring a doctor,” you tell them and they nod without asking more questions. Only one comes to your side.

“The games are about to begin, princess. I must escort you back to where you should be” Trying to catch your breath, you nodded.

“Do not say a word about this mess” The guard only bowed his head in agreement.

The least you could do was to put some bandages around the bloody hand of the soldier. Then you cleaned yourself and noticed you were a mess.

Giving that soon-to-be gladiator one last look, you tried to thank him with your eyes for what he had done to help you. He understood, giving you a cold nod.

And as you walked towards the royal platea, you wondered if that was the slave your brothers mentioned. A poet…

“Oh heavens! What happened to you?” Asked Lucilla as soon as you tried to take a seat beside Geta. Then everyone turned to look at you in horror. You noticed Acacius looked worried and he couldn’t keep his eyes away from the blood in your dress and bandaged arm.

“An accident” you replied politely at the woman, not in the mood to face the wife of your ex-lover.

“You look horrible,” said Caracalla.

“It won’t; happen again, frater” you tiredly answered, sinking onto the chair, ignoring Acacius’ eyes on you.

Soon you are surprised to see the gladiator who helped you in the arena. You don’t face him when he ends up winning and he looks at you. But you do notice Lucilla’s behavior and quickly you have connected the dots.

What an odd coincidence…

…

This time, you checked the animals first, then you made sure nobody had seen you entering the cells, but you went where the mysterious gladiator of blue eyes rested.

“Barbarian, monkey eater, slave, gladiator…. Prince of Rome, How may I call you? Hanno or Lucius?” Soon you had him inches away from your face. At that moment, you had time to appreciate his features. He was handsome and looked pretty much like he belonged to Roman royalty. But his gaze was fueled by anger and pain.

“What do you want?”

“I know Lucilla came before me. She had been waiting for you ever since I can remember” he looked at you with cold eyes and unbothered. But you knew he was curious about you too.

“What do you care? You’re the princess, you support all of this” his anger was palpable, it was part of his way of fighting you had noticed.

“Who did you lose?” You asked.

“My wife” he replied after a little silence, you nodded apologetically. He didn’t believe you.

“My father was a friend of your grandfather, part of the council. Now I realize that when he was elected emperor, he started hunting you down. I’m sorry”

“You don’t. You joined their cause and you fight proudly on the battlefront. I saw you…” you chuckle sarcastically.

“The twins you met the other day are my half-brothers. And they have tried to kill me since I was born. They sent me to war as punishment, but Acacius trained me well enough to survive each battle”

“So what? Should I pity you?”

“No, please don’t. But I don’t support any of this. I want to be a free woman and be with the man I love but I don’t think I’ll live enough to make it happen” he seemed interested in your words but pretended he wasn’t. Either way, you kept talking.

“You can’t kill Acacius. He’s leading a rebellion against my brothers” he stood quiet, trying to taste the lies in your words. But you seemed very truthful.

“Interesting that you want his head when all I’ve wanted is his heart” Through the cell his eyes sparkled and looked tentatively at you, for some seconds you got too attached to them.

“What about Macrinus?” The old man had been trying to gain your brother’s trust and you thought that was suspicious.

“Don’t trust him. Stop sharing any detail that could tell him what you want or fear”

“I don’t trust you either”

“You shouldn’t,” you said, a little smile unconsciously appearing on your face. And to your surprise, Lucius smiled too. There was something about you that he found lovely. You seemed honest, but he couldn’t trust you yet. So he cursed once you had left, you had him looking forward to meet you again.

…

Across the room runs a large table filled with food. A variety of fruits, bread, lamb, duck, pork, and lots of wine. Your hands float around the punch though, reminding you of the first time you tried Egyptian beer. You ended up drunk with Marcus Acacius, laughing on the sand and soon both ended up naked. You frown, trying to forget that messy night.

“You’ve been oddly quiet these past days,” said Lucilla appearing by your side, grabbing more fruits and placing them on her plate.

“I’ve been busy”

“Have you met Macrinus?” She said pointing in disguise at the man who laughs with some senators and your brothers.

“He’s been around for some time. But I don’t like him” you confessed.

“I’ve also met his poet gladiator” you added, opting to not look at her eyes because she responded very shocked.

“What?”

“He wants to kill Acacius for the death of his late wife, avenge his homeland, etcétera etcétera. I told him not to because we plan to free the city. You can’t proceed with the nonsense of taking him out of the Colosseum. Your son can’t be the alibi to start a revolution, Lucilla” you said whispering. She gasped in shock, wondering how you knew already. All while you carefully watched if any of your brothers or that nosy man were looking. Not even Acacius was looking.

You sigh, shrugging and looking at the woman.

“As soon as he came out wielding that sword in the arena, your face said everything. Then just by hearing his mysterious backstory. It was obvious, Lucilla” She didn’t say anything else, so you continued.

“I shall repeat myself once again. You won’t encourage Acacius to get your boy out of the Colosseum.”

“Why not?” you chuckled at the woman.

She was very pretty, sweet and caring. No wonder why the general loved her.

“You and your husband were lucky that I found out one of your maids heard everything and was about to spill it”

“What did you do, y/n?” She asked tired, thinking destiny was so meticulous and how you had ended up in such a position to hear and stop the maid before chaos unleashed.

“Let’s say I granted her eternal silence,” you said, Lucilla sighed, understanding. And before she could thank you, you spoke again.

“Wait till Lucius is in the arena to save him. And stop looping Acacius into this madness, you’ll make him get killed” She understood everything by the way your eyes looked at her. It shocked her, but she remained calm as you left to sit at the table. Only a woman in love spoke with a mix of venom and sweetness like that.

Taking a seat beside the General, he turned to look at you.

“What were you talking about there with Lucilla?” He asked in a very low but deep tone.

“Just gossiping about Senator Brutus and his new wife…” he knew you were lying but tried to act normal.

“Princess y/n… How true are those rumors about you breaking the jaw of a tiger?” asked a scribe, making you look away from Acacius, Lucilla returned to the table and your brother was already laughing at you for something you couldn’t hear.

“Well… it’s true, domine.” The table burst into laughter. Only the general and his wife remained silent.

“You did what?” Asked Acacius looking at you in horror.

“A princess shouldn’t be in combat” added Macrinus, making you set your eyes on him.

“Oh I am a princess but I’m also a soldier, domine. And I have to thank my brothers because they made me a woman capable of wielding more than one weapon by sending me to war” The twins stopped laughing. Geta sipped from his wine and returned to you.

“That’s true. While you were there getting battle scars, Caracalla and I focused on diplomacy, ensuring we gained more land” You want to laugh at his face. The council did that, not the twins.

“Did you ensure the poor were stable by cutting from the rich? Did you do the math to financially cover each branch Rome rules, Geta? Or did you and Caracalla just point at lands on a map to get like prizes?”

“y/n…” Acacius whispered your name, trying to make you stop. The tension has risen very quickly.

“You have one task, soror. To give us India. A woman shouldn’t even be speaking on the table” Caracalla said when you were about to stand up and burst out. Marcus grabbed your hand under the table.

And immediately calmed you down.

“I’m only saying you should wisely rule this great empire. Do not let it fall…”

Soon the chatting turned into drinking after the awkward moment. When most of the men were getting drunk you returned to the table, cautiously grabbing food again. When you looked up, you encountered the image of Acacius kissing Lucilla. And it made your blood boil.

In a thick piece of fabric, you placed bread, some fruits, cheeses, and a small piece of lamb.

“What are you doing?” you nearly screamed when you noticed Acacius standing by your side.

“I’m grabbing food”

“Isn’t it a little late to eat again?” He wasn’t judging you, he never would, but he was very curious.

You would start up a little fire after seeing the painful image of him kissing his wife.

“It’s not for me…” before he could ask you you sprinted away. His blood boiled too, his hand firmly grabbed your wrist to stop you.

“What are you playing?” He asked.

“Playing? I’m definitely not”

“Is this some kind of punishment for what I told you days ago?” You sighed.

“I didn’t mean to say it was nothing. But… you have to wait, y/n” Acacius whispered and you chuckled.

“I’ve waited long enough to realize you will always be trapped in a marriage with two different kinds of love. And Lucilla will never love you like you want because her heart will always beat for that gladiator whose name was carved from the Colosseum”

You had raised your voice, Lucilla was looking at you two, and everyone else was drunk. So you violently flinched away from the man, who looked at you with a mix of pain and rage.

You leave and he immediately sends a guard to follow you in disguise.

“We must talk,” Lucilla said to Acacius, taking his hand.

He nodded.

…

What did that man have that made you feel safe? He didn’t protest when you walked inside his cell. He didn’t demand you to go away. He quietly lets you inside, talk, and explain yourself.

Two visits filled with food from your dinners were enough to let him know you had no intention of killing him. Your curiosity must’ve been too big, his eyes too attractive, and an odd vibration that warmed your chest.

To be honest, you had no idea why you came back to him. You just felt something. And you hated to admit it.

“If the emperors have made your life so difficult, Why didn’t you leave?” Lucius asked. He had eaten everything you gave him and was sitting beside you on the dirty floor.

“Every time I tried to escape, I couldn’t make it far enough. So I stayed and accepted my fate. To serve them will keep me alive ” he nodded, finally understanding why you hadn’t revealed yourself against the evil emperors.

“You didn’t come down here just to talk”

“I didn’t. I- I guess I just want to believe you’ll do something greater than I have always tried. Everyone talks about your rage but I think you quite act like a prospect hero… with honor” you revealed and wanted to cut your thong like you did with that old maid. You hated oversharing. But instead, Lucius chuckled and you frowned confused, expecting him to talk.

“You reminded me of my wife…”

“How so?”

“She said similar things to you” Most unexpectedly, you blushed. Thankfully the darkness of the cell made it unnoticeable.

“I’m trying to find a way to get you out of here before your mother does something rushed”

“I was very harsh with her”

“How couldn’t you? I would have behaved the same way. But she loves you and she doesn’t want to let you go just when she found you” Lucius smiled once again, making you remain still, unsure of what to do next. Soon you realized the sun was very close to coming up again.

How many hours had you spent talking with the rightful Prince of Rome?

“I must go, Geta and Caracalla will know I spent the night away,” you said standing up, trying to clean the mess your dress had become.

“Will I see you again before that revolution happens?” You smiled, walking back near him.

He was tall, you had to completely raise your head to face him.

“The final day of the games is closer. I’ll bring you more food and I’ll try to see what will the next encounters look like”

“Thank you. I judged you too fast…” he said and you chuckled.

“You still have time to change your mind”

You didn’t notice when he closed the distance. Just when his face had been inches away from yours, you gasped.

But neither of you two protested, your lips touched his at the same time.

Tasting the wine you brought him made you feel intoxicated. No intrusive thoughts appeared while you kissed him.

You could only taste his passion, his need to take control. But all his hidden softness too. One of his hand caressed with softness your cheek and the other grasped your neck.

“Stay safe, Lucius,” you said as you moved away from him.

…

The whole day was lost because you spent it sleeping. Only when you woke up for dinner, did you learn you had missed the games of the day. But Lucius was alive at least. You dreamt of his kiss but when you woke up you had an odd sensation in your stomach. Confusion filled you and then… ache.

As you brushed your hair, you got lost looking at a red candle. It had been a present from your father some years ago. A red candle to be lit whenever you felt like you needed to feel love, he had said.

The wise emperor had wished to see his daughter with her true love. Just like had always wanted but couldn’t.

There was a broad shadow that you spotted through the mirror. It made you pull out a silver knife and point a the figure.

Soon the cape was removed and you sighed but also gasped shocked to see Acacius standing in the middle of your room.

“What are you doing here?” You asked worriedly, standing up and hurrying to close your windows.

“You had spent all these past nights in the Colosseum,” he said, sounding a little angered.

“Now you’re spying on me, Acacius?” He sighed exasperated.

“What are you doing with that gladiator?”

“What do you care?” You asked with defiance.

“He’s going to get you in trouble, princess y/n” Your eyes pierced his, but you decided to move away, leaning against the towers of your bed.

“He deserves more. And not only him, but every slave we brought and all those we left in ruins” you admitted, looking at the fire of the candle.

“They do, but it’s not our duty, at least not yet. We need to focus on the plan we have…” you wanted to roll your eyes and yell at him, his wife could’ve ruined everything and he was only paying attention to you.

Only paying attention to you?

“Stop going to see that man”

“His name is Hanno and I’ll visit whenever I desire” you spit out with bitterness and you knew he was angry. Acacius clenched his jaw and sighed once again. Under his cape rested his armor, his hair messy, and his scars fading.

“Why? Because he makes you feel things?”

You remained quiet. As simple as it was, his question took you by surprise.

“I-… I don’t know. I had no reason to go back to him, but I did it anyway”

“Oh heavens, y/n. Don’t you see that I’ve always told you to wait? Because I’m counting every golden coin I have to give you that house on the island you always point at. To leave Rome with you…”

It took you on a curve. You didn’t know what to say, only the tears wanted to be present.

His hands found your hips and his lips seek yours. Sometimes, while being overseas, you two would argue. And the only cure was to be silent and kiss after a day of ignoring each other.

This time feels different. You feel so confused.

His forehead softly bumped yours and you two stayed like that for some time.

“If you had those ideas to fulfill with me. Why do you remain married, Marcus?” He smiled.

“That’s different, satis. I was set to marry when you were very young. I just can’t undo it.”

“Why do I feel like you’re only doing this because you feel pressured?”

“It’s not like that”

“Either way you wouldn’t tell me that you love me. So it’s in vane…”

“BUT I DO LOVE YOU!”

You frowned, biting the inside of your cheek. For a moment you thought you could only hear how your heartbeats slowly thumped. What you wanted to hear for years had been delivered. It felt good, even right to hear it. And when you were about to believe it, something clicked.

“No, Marcus. You just realized you hate the idea of me falling in love with someone else. Even worse when it’s the son of your wife”

Without the strength to say anything else, you moved away. Your feet quickly dragged you out of your room, and then out of the palace.

You walked through the streets of Rome, seeing all the hunger, poverty, the lack of love from the government.

By midnight you arrived at the shore. The warm sand cured your bolting mind.

There was an imminent battle coming up. You had a place in the rebellion. And yet you had to be only thinking in two men. Who had made a mess of you in a matter of days.

You had nothing with any of them. It was just the causality of what they made you feel. Only one had made you feel utterly in love once. A little boy that always carried for you as a kid. No tears, no pain, just that little boy being your other half.

But there was no little boy now.

Lucius made you feel like the woman you would’ve been if you had escaped Rome years ago.

Acacius made you feel adored like the woman you turned into wasn’t as bad as you thought. He believed in you.

But it wasn’t enough. None of them were enough. Your mind was spiraling and you realized you were sobbing in the middle of the dark. You can hear and faintly distinguish the sea. You had cracked, like the fallen fruit every poet and philosopher always mentioned.

And even when you knew you had to only focus on the war, you still didn’t know what to do. You barely knew the men that had you losing it.

_________________________

Taglist: @stargirl-mayaa @willowpains @nicolebarnes

I don’t love the ending but I genuinely don’t know who should reader end up with. PLEASE SEND IDEAS!!

[grapejuicebrat]

“I miss you, I’m sorry”

PAIRING: rafe cameron x reader

SYNOPSIS: everywhere i go leads me back to you.

SUMMARY: this is how rafe sees your break up. here he is the same old rafe but for you he changed. for you he is more soft and he isn’t afraid to talk about his feelings. but that was before your break up. what’s going on with rafe now? that’s what this story is about (:

WARNINGS: heavy angst, ending might be happy, that’s for you to decide, swearing.

NOTES: rafe is such a babygirl

Maybe that’s what he deserves. Being alone. Being without you. At the end of the day, he is a scary Rafe Cameron. The same guy who is ready to beat the shit out of anybody. The same guy who tried to killed fucking pogues. The same guy who tried to fuck you at the party. The same guy who asked you out a month later. The same guy who fell in love with you. The same guy who changed for you. And the same guy who fucked everything up.

He tried to be better, he really tried. Rafe still thinks that everything could be better if just he tried better. Maybe you two could have a family later. Two kids, who’d have your colour of hair and his eyes. Maybe, just maybe he could see you in a white dress with a ring on your finger. Maybe he could say that you’re his wife. But you’re not. You’re his ex. The love of his live. Still. Even after a month after your break up. You’re still his lover and his soulmate.

The girl who tried to lead me, to help him to be better. The girl who loved him and believed in him when nobody did.

Maybe that’s what he deserves. Watching how you move on. Your smile makes his day. He is ready to sit in a Country Club for days just to see you sitting happily with your friends. This is the most important thing for Rafe. He doesn’t care about his happiness, he cares about your happiness.

Rafe doesn’t want to think about your future boyfriend. You shouldn’t wait for Rafe, that’s for sure. Obviously, you need to move on. You should forget about Rafe and go out with some guy who will treat you like a princess. Like a queen. Like on this depends his life.

Of course Rafe will keep an eye on you. If this asshole dare to break your heart or even try to make you cry, Rafe will kill him. He’ll forget that he used to be the one who made you cry every night. He used to be the one who listened to your cries. He used to be the one who asked if you’re okay. And of course you always said that you’re okay.

You both knew that everything isn’t okay.

Rafe continued to sell weed and you wanted to live a happy life without this shit. Rafe lied to your face but in fact he just wanted you to never worry about the money thing. He didn’t want you to be like this pogues, that’s all what he wanted. He didn’t think about your feelings. He didn’t think that one day you’ll be full of his lie and one day you’ll just go.

That’s what you did a month ago.

That’s what Rafe thinks about for a month.

How you looked at him silently but he didn’t need you to talk. He looked in your eyes and understood everything. You’re done. Your eyes are full of disappointment and sadness. Maybe a little bit of love but that was not enough for you anymore. You were tired of this relationship where you’re trying to save someone who doesn’t want to be safe.

You silently looked at Rafe, holding a suitcase in your hands. You didn’t know if you should say something. Should you say something about trying to be friends? This is a bullshit. Exes can’t be friends. Not with Rafe.

Rafe wanted to say that he will try to be better but he didn’t want to lie again. At the end of the day that’s why you’re leaving. Because you’re sick of this bullshit. Maybe you’re even sick of Rafe.

“We’re done” you said quietly, looking right into Rafes eyes.

“I know” Rafe whispers. He doesn’t want to cry right now. Not when you are looking at him. Rafe doesn’t want you to think that he is a weak poor boy.

“Take care of yourself, Rafe” And you leave, never turning back to look at him one last time.

Then Rafe remembered. You never called him Rafe. He was your baby. But now he is not. Now he is just Rafe Cameron.

Rafe got a feeling that you’ll never need him again. He takes your t-shirt in his hands, gripping the material tightly. Rafe looks around himself as if somebody will catch him. Nobody is here. Not even you. Before he realises, his hands are pressing a t-shirt to his nose. Rafe breathes in your scent. He feels your perfume. And your shampoo. And your shower gel. He misses you so fucking much. That’s what he realises now.

Everything reminds him of you. His house is full of memories. The bedroom where you could watch movies all night and eat popcorn. In kitchen you used to cook together. You taught him how to cook pasta. In bathroom he used to watch how you wipe your make up off and maybe later he let you make him a mask.

Country Club. A place where he met you and his first thought was about a quick fuck. God, did he know that later you’ll be the love of his life?

Rafe is looking at you right now but not in a creepy way. He wants to see you smile one more time. Just to make sure that you’ll be okay without him. He wants to let you move on.

A click. Someone sends him a message. At first Rafe doesn’t want to answer but when he reads the name of a sender…quickly opens his phone and starts to read.

“you will always be my first love. not like the first guy i liked, or the one who took my breath away, or the first kiss, but my first strong feeling. i knew from the moment i first saw you that my heart would belong to you. you got the best of me, i will never regret loving you. even if we can't be together i will love you in this life and in another one”

And suddenly Rafe realised why he wasn't moving on; why he didn't want to move on.

Because moving on means accepting a future without you, and maybe that's something he is not ready to do yet. Not when you possibly gave him a chance to make everything right this time.

please if you like it please reblog too!

[dixonsbrat]

𖥔 𝐓𝐀𝐊𝐄 𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𖥔

𝐢𝐧 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐜𝐡 ; coriolanus needs to learn how to relax.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 ; young!coriolanus snow x fem!reader. smut. 18+ content. minors do not interact! handjob (male receiving). swearing.

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 ; 1.3k .ᐟ

𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬 ; head empty. no thoughts. just him.

coriolanus’ determination to achieve the plinth prize was palpable. the coveted prize, awarded annually to the top students at the academy, granting them money and essentially a free ride through the university, was all he had been focusing on. 

countless books lay strewn across his desk, balls of crumpled up paper scattered around the room, as he stood before it. leaning against the old wooden table as his arms firmly held him steady. it was a clear indication that coriolanus had been pushing himself, striving to make every word and every thought count. 

while it was something to admire, that didn’t stop the worry that had been seeping in. it wouldn’t have been obvious to most, but to you, someone who spent a lot of time with him, you could see the dark circles that had begun to encapsulate his eyes, the way his hair was slightly disarrayed, or the fact that he hadn’t even completely changed out of his academy uniform. only his bright red pants and blue shirt still firmly clad on his body. 

he doesn’t hear you come in, doesn’t hear the thud from you closing the door, or you dropping your bag on the chair in the corner of the room. too enthralled by his textbooks and whatever scribbled nonsense is written in them, that it’s not until you wrap your arms around him from the back that he finally takes notice of your presence. 

a smile spreads across his face as he places a hand atop of yours, “what are you doing here?” he asks, surprised but pleased to see you. 

you pull him closer, embracing the feeling of holding him in your arms after barely getting to see him that day. the smell of roses filling your senses as you drink him in, “tigris let me in, said you’ve been cooped up in here all afternoon. plus, i… missed you.”

“i really missed you too, my love, but i-”

“-have so much to do. i know,” you cut him off, finishing his sentence. the same sentence you had been getting for weeks now. “which is exactly why you are going to put away the books and spend some time with your girlfriend.” 

you can physically see the gears beginning to turn in his head, trying to think of a way to let you down gently. you didn’t take it to heart, you knew how important it was for him to win the plinth prize. you were the only one outside of his family that did. 

“you already know you’re going to get that prize, coryo,” you sigh, “nobody even comes close in comparison to how hard you’ve been working for it, but you’ve gotta stop spreading yourself so thin.”

“i know, but tigris and grandma’am-”

“-would agree with me, that you need a night off,” you press a gentle kiss to the back of his shoulder, and pull him in even tighter. his head lulls back to lean against yours, blond curls falling into his face as a sigh leaves his lips. he knew you were right. “you’re always taking care of everyone else, let me take care of you for once.”

he turns to look at you now, eyes big and dewy, a mixture of surprise and understanding as he comprehends the hidden meaning behind your words. however, before he can utter a single word in response, your hands gently glides along his abdomen, gradually tracing its way down to were the band of his pants delicately meets his waist. his breath catches momentarily, captured by a flicker of anticipation, while his unwavering gaze remains fixed upon your own, unyielding and brimming with unspoken emotions. 

“you’ve been working so hard,” your voice is barely above a whisper, almost tauntingly, but he hears you all the same, “... let me help you relieve some of that tension.”

coriolanus swallows hard, falling into your hands, both physically and metaphorically, and he surrenders with a nod. it brought a smile to your face to see the hard exterior he put on crumble, become powerless, and just from your mere touch. 

his back stiffened as he leaned against you, watching as your hand roamed lower now, trailing down to where he was confined behind his pants. a shaky breath escapes him and he shifts on the balls of his feet, waiting with anticipation as you finally make contact with his now pulsing bulge. nothing separating you except for the thin material of his underwear. 

“y/n,” he sighs, your name falling from his lips so gracefully. 

you can’t help the small laugh that escapes you, pleased to see the effect you had on him. “shh, don’t think about it, you do enough of that as it is. just relax,” you push on your tiptoes to kiss his cheek, as a bright flush spreads across it. 

you could feel him getting harder in your grasp, his breaths growing shorter and lower, eyes flailing closed with desperation. your hand runs circles around him, groping him where he needed you the most. it brought you pleasure just to hear the soft moans escaping him, watching him lose control to you. 

his chest rises and falls at a dramatic pace, his patience wearing thin, but that was all part of the fun. you wanted him needy, begging for you to touch him. 

“fuck, y/n,” he gasps, illiciting a stroke of excitement in you. 

deciding that he had enough of you teasing him, you waste no time delving into his underwear and releasing him from the constraints of his pants. an audible sigh of relief comes from coriolanus as you do so, his body shuddering slightly at the warmth of your hand finally making contact. 

he rests in your hand, his largely endowed member, all pretty and pink at the tip. you stroke him teasingly, rubbing the end with your finger to gather the pre-cum that had trickled out, using it to help you start stroking him. he shudders from the movement, struggling to stand still as you slowly pump your hand up and down his shaft. 

you remove your hand momentarily to collect some of your spit and when you hold him once more he shudders, struggling to stand still, and his hips begin to move involuntarily. if there was one thing coriolanus loved more than you pleasuring him, it was watching you pleasure him. 

tucking his chin against his chest, he watches as your hand works his length, pumping back and forth with ease. his hips jut forward, begging for more, until it all becomes to much and his hands lurch forward to grasp onto the table before him, just like they were when you walked in. 

“let it out for me, baby,” your voice is reassuring in his ear, sweet and soft, full of promise. 

hearing you speak to him in such a way pulls a moan from the back of his throat and he just about loses it. his body tightens at the same time, hips bucking himself into your hand faster as the coil in the pit of his stomach finally bends and breaks.

he clamps his teeth down on his lower lip to muffle his moans, trying to remain quiet so that no one else could hear what the two of you were up to. his knuckles turn white as he gently bangs his fist down on the desk, and it’s only seconds before your hand is warm with his cum. 

“fuck me,” he whisper-shouts, eyes clenching shut as his hips jut and dick twitches in your hand. 

“that’s my boy,” the comment pulls a small chuckle from coryo as you remove your hand, his white secretion now coating it, “though, it does seem like an awful waste. i guess it’s a good thing i’m not done with you yet.”

[citricacidprince]

could you draw the courtroom scene with relativity falls? (mabels bubble)

Gladly!!! I’ve already brought up some Stan Weirdmageddon Bubble stuff here, but the equivalent of the Mabel Trial for Stan makes me wanna blow up I just adore it!!

Okay, so first things first, here’s Captain Stan’s design, my precious baby boy <3

Figured it’d be fun to mix some aspects of Grunkle Stan’s Mr. Mystery outfit with a pirate twist, just for fun!

As for the ‘trial’, its more of a argument between two boys who just WONT talk about their issues

Fiddleford, Boyish Dan, and Anjelita are also there, but Stan isn’t mad at them. In fact, he doesn’t even care that they’re breaking the rules by being there, he’s only mad at Ford. He’s mad that Ford was just going to leave him behind and send Stan back to New Jersey by himself while he stayed and studied with their Grunkle Dipper. Leaving Stan all by himself at home. Alone to deal with their father. Alone with no friends. Alone to be the family disappointment.

But no matter how mad he gets at Ford, Stan can’t ever say that he’s hates him, and Stan would give him a million chances to fix things. So, instead of immediately throwing Ford off the deck of his ship, he gives him an ultimatum. A very easy solution to all of this.

All Ford has to do is say that he’s sorry, and Stan would let him go. He won’t leave the bubble because he actually really likes it in there, but he’ll let Ford go.

This.. doesn’t end very well

Stan, absolutely heartbroken, decides to make his brother walk the plank. If he’s dead to Ford, well then Ford is dead to him as well.

However, right before his crew could push Ford into the water, something happened.

You see, when Stan unknowingly gave the rift to Bill he only had one wish. That he’d never be alone again. So when he first appeared in his bubble it was actually completely dark and empty, except for a small light glowing in his hands. It was a little version of Ford. He smiled and laughed just like he did when they were a bit younger, and he said everything Stan wanted to hear.

Very quickly Stan realized he could manipulate the bubble and create anything that he wanted, just like he could back in the Mindscape. So he created what he knew. Glass Shard Beach, New Jerseys. It was full of never ending boardwalks, houses and attractions with silly names, and that beach he loved so much. It didn’t take long after that to realize it was still quite lonely, even with Lil’ Ford (a name he lovingly gave the small version of his brother). However, he didn’t want the town to be full of faceless nobodies or people he actually knew, that’d be weird.

Then he had the genius idea to just fill the town with himself! After all, he never had to worry about himself betraying him or leaving him behind!

Soon the town was overrun with imperfect duplicates of himself and he couldn’t have been any happier.

However, the duplicates were so much like him that it soon made a new problem arise. They started asking about Ford. Like, ‘Where is he?’ ‘Can you make one?’ ‘I miss having him around.’

Stan did have Lil’ Ford hidden under his pirate hat, but he didn’t want to tell the other Stans that he was there. He didn’t know exactly why he kept Lil’ Ford hidden away. Probably a mixture of bitterness and anger still aimed at his real twin brother and a selfishness to keep Lil’ Ford to himself. So he just declared that Fords were banned altogether and left it at that.

This was a problem when right as Stanford was about to pushed off the plank, Lil’ Ford came out from under the Captain’s hat and told Stan to stop all of this.

The two bicker for a moment and some Stans ask who that is, causing Lil’ Ford to happily state that he’s Stanley’s brother, that the two are going to sail the world together, and that he loves Stan very dearly.

This doesn’t go over well with literally any of the Stan on board and it especially doesn’t go over well with Ford

The Stans pull a mutiny and try to kill Stan because they don’t think he should be Captain anymore and one of them should run the town instead.

Hard cut to Boyish Dan, Anjelita, Fiddleford, Ford, and Stan having a high speed boat chase with other Stans and popping the bubble while escaping. (I like to think Stan popped the bubble at the last second with the help of Shanklin <3 )

Stan is NOT happy about having to leave his Weirdmageddon bubble.

“You should have left me in there. I was HAPPY there.”

“Who cares if you were happy, you were living a lie! A sad delusion! You should be happy we pulled you out of there!”

Boyish Dan has it cut in before the two start fighting right then and there

Stan eventually calms down enough to decide that he’s going to save their Grunkle Dipper from Bill, but there is a thick tension between Stan and Ford that last until the huge blow out fight at the Cipher Wheel

A fight that started because Stan wanted Ford to finally say it.

‘I’m Sorry.’

[marvelwitchergilmore]

Secret Kindness

Summary: Joel Miller x Fe!Reader -> It's no secret Joel Miller could be an asshole, but it was a secret that that wasn't all he could be.

Disclaimer: I haven't finished my re-watch but I wanted to write something for him. Kinda friends to lovers, oblivious idiots in love, descriptions of scars, bruises, cleaning wounds, kinda a 'who did this to you?' trope. Swearing, light spoilers for Field of Dreams? Fluff. Not Proof Read.

It was no secret that Joel Miller could be an asshole. 

From the unspoken stories from his brother, to his treatment of people in general; untrusting, strong dislike, to simply his responses when talking to people. Mostly it was in grunts or short sentences. 

Except, for some reason nobody else could see that Joel wasn’t just an asshole. He could be kind, funny, and deeply caring. That was something you had known from the minute you’d seen him. 

Having arrived in Jackson a month or so after the winter, you had heard stories about Tommy Miller’s brother Joel. Most people called him an ass – never truly giving a reason why. But when he walked back into town with who you presumed to be his daughter with him, you saw there and then a side to Joel Miller that nobody cared to mention. 

How he constantly looked around for the girl, watched her every move in fear she might get hurt. How his hand came to her shoulders, leading her away from looking at the group of people staring at them and towards the bar where Tommy had just walked out from. 

And over the following weeks, you saw small parts of Joel that you felt nobody else had even cared to see. He helped Tommy where he could, and helped others where they’d let him. A couple of times you’d see Ellie – having met her briefly one afternoon when she was sat with Tommy as he tried to fix a toaster – struggling with her homework, only to turn to the one man who a lot of people were afraid of in town. With a calm nod, he’d walk over and help her. 

Then you finally met him. 

Usually, you were on patrol in the afternoons, taking over after Joel’s detail. Except, with one of theirs getting sick, you offered to cover. The other’s didn’t want to pair off with Joel because of their preconceived notions of him, or were more than eager to do so, which made Joel slightly uncomfortable. 

So, when you called out to be paired with him, he agreed. Though, neither of you missed the looks two of the women in the team gave you as you walked past them and followed Joel. 

That was the day you became friends with Joel. 

“You know, if it makes you that uncomfortable, I can make a swap with one of them. Just because the world went to shit doesn’t mean someone should feel like it.”

Joel thanked you and, although he never gave an actual answer to your offer, part of him was pleased to see you in detail regularly. 

Over the following weeks, you got to know more about him. About Ellie. About Tommy. About his life before Jackson. And he got to know yours. 

“Sometimes I wonder if I’m doing the right thing.” Joel suddenly said to you one day. 

You’d both been walking the grounds around the town and found yourselves looking over and in behind the wooden posts. People were mostly going about their day, working or playing. 

“Right thing about what?”

“With Ellie. She’s just a kid and she’s already seen so much. She deserves a normal life.”

“She has a normal life, Joel. As normal as it can get these days. And that’s because you gave it to her.”

“Did I, though? Y/n, she hadn’t even seen a car before we hit the road.”

With a small sigh, you walked a little further up and met Joel where he stood. “If you’re that worried about her, show her something. Teach her something. A life skill that isn’t about survival.”

“Like what?”

You shrugged and looked back over the town. There has to be something. 

“Do you know how to play the guitar?” You asked after a moment, turning back to him. 

He nodded. “Use to.”

“Well, I’ve got a guitar in my house. Found it when I was rummaging through the attic. Teach her how to play the guitar.”

You walked away and a little further through the trees, Joel quickly followed after you. “I don’t know any songs.”

“I’ve got a guitar. There’s gotta be song books somewhere in that attic. We can look when we get back into town.”

“And if there isn’t?”

“Then…make one up? It’ll be like riding a bike. Trust me.”

“Trust me.” Joel repeated. “Trust me, she says. Have you ever even played the guitar?”

You let out a small laugh. “Once. I wasn’t very good though.”

A few hours later, yourself and Joel were standing inside your house at the bottom of your attic ladders. 

“After you.” 

You stood so far away from the steps, Joel already had a feeling he knew what would be awaiting him. 

“There a reason I’m going first?” He asked, already halfway up the ladders. 

“No…”

He looked down at where you were standing; holding the ladder steady. “Okay, maybe. I found the guitar and then a massive spider. It ran away quickly. I couldn’t find it so that room is now his.”

Joel’s boots hit the floor of the attic and after a few minutes you heard a stomp before he called down to you. “Spider’s dead. You’re safe.”

“You sure?”

“I’m sure.”

Walking up the ladders, you peaked your head over the edge of the floor before taking a look around. The coast was clear. And for the next twenty minutes, you and Joel rummaged through a couple of different boxes until you both found what you were looking for, including some extra things.

“Watch your step.” Joel stood behind you a little as you climbed down the last couple of steps, the heat of his hand warming your hip before he stepped around you and pushed the ladder back up into the door, closing the hatch. 

Carrying the case of books down, you followed Joel with the box of clothes that you’d deemed salvageable. 

“Thanks, for your help.”

“Don’t mention it. I’ll see you tomorrow?”

Joel nodded. “Tomorrow.”

Just before you closed the door, you called out for him. “Joel?”

He turned around. 

“You’re a good dad. And Ellie’s a good kid. You’re doing a good job.” 

He didn’t know what to say, feeling grateful if a little awkward and unsure of himself. Looking at you from the path to your home, he wanted to walk back and…hug you? He wasn’t too sure. So, with a low nod, he gave you a brief smile before he thanked you once more and headed back home. 

As the next day came into view, Joel was rushing around the kitchen since he’d missed his alarm leaving Ellie to pound her fist on his bedroom door. 

“Done your homework?”

“We don’t have homework this week.” Ellie told him as she took another stab at her eggs. “Were you meant to see Y/n this morning?”

Joel shook his head, pulling the hot toast from his toaster before reaching for the butter knife. “Don’t think so. Why?”

“Because she’s at the door.”

A knock came less than a second later and Ellie watched as Joel became something more than just flustered. “Uhhh.”

“Want me to get it?”

“Go ahead.” He reached into the cupboard above his head and pulled out a jar of peanut butter. 

As Ellie answered the door and let you inside, letting you follow her through the house towards the kitchen, Ellie didn’t miss how neater the kitchen looked since she left. 

And she didn’t miss how Joel’s hair had gone from sticking out in most places and his shirt being buttoned wrong, to being neat and tidy. 

“Y/n’s here.”

“Hey,” Joel practically breathed out. “Were we meant to meet-”

You shook your head. “No, don’t worry. I just…” You held out the pile of clothes in your hands. “I found some more clothes last night after you left. And considering they won’t fit me, I figured you might want them. I’ve dropped some into town already but I saved these in case you needed some.”

“He does.”

“Ellie.”

“What?”

Joel looked back at you. “Thank you. That’s, uhh, that’s nice. Thanks.”

With a little awkward nod, you placed them on the kitchen table where Ellie took one from the pile and held it up. It didn’t seem like it would fit Joel. 

“There’s some there for you, too,” you told her. 

“Thanks.” 

A moment of silence settled over the kitchen before Joel’s mind was kicked back into reality. “Right, you’re gonna be late. Have you got your-”

“Lunch, books, jacket.” Ellie sounded off. 

It seemed like the list was a ritual. 

“I’ve got it all now let’s go.”

You followed Joel and Ellie out of their house and through the town, Joel walking Ellie to school before he made his way further down the road and towards the stables. 

It was your day to clean out their stables and since Joel was on construction, he’d offered to be the one to help fix a couple of the stable doors. 

And all day, talking or working in silence, you both missed the looks and stares from the rest of the town paterons. 

To them they’d seen Joel go from an asshole who spoke in grunts and rough gestures to witnessing a foreign side to him that apparently you only got to see. 

When you were around him, people saw him actually smile. A few even heard him laugh. Of course, when people mentioned it to Tommy, he was a little shocked they hadn’t seen it sooner. It had shocked him to his core when he saw his brother seem a little like his older self when he was with Ellie – laughing, smiling, joking. Even if it contained a few more swear words. So when he saw Joel practically skip into work (he didn’t. But he definitely had a pep in his step) Tommy made sure to keep an eye on what had caused the change. 

The only thing that had changed in his life outside of Ellie was you. 

You’d come into his life and the side of him that was only visible to his family was very, very slowly becoming visible to the outside world. 

Then the rumors started. 

And they circulated for months. 

“Heard any good new ones?” Tommy asked, leaning over the bar top, pretending to be interested in Ellie’s homework. 

“Overheard one of the teachers. They said they’ve met before but because she was running a herbal shop when we were on the road. Apparently she slipped something into his tea that made sure he only ever liked her if they met again.”

Tommy choked back a laugh. “Well, shit.”

“Still doesn’t beat him being a warlock and being cursed to spend his entire life with her.” Ellie said.

“Do you know who started that one?”

Ellie shook her head, pretending to be interested in her homework, too. You and Joel were on the other side of the bar, setting up a couple of hanging features before Maria could get to the ladders again. Despite her being seven months pregnant, she was determined to ignore her midwife. 

“Not yet. But when I do they better run. I like Y/n.”

“I do, too. And it really should be the other way ‘round. She’s cursed to spend her life with him. I used to live with him. I’ve seen him in the morning.”

“We’ve all seen him in the morning.”

“S’Not my fault I’m not a morning person.” Tommy practically stood to attention as Joel made his way over. “You two giving me shit?”

“No,” Ellie said far too innocently. 

Joel hummed. “I’m sure. Tommy, you seen the 2x4 I left here?”

Looking under the bar, he held it up. “This?”

Joel took it from his hand. “Thanks.”

“Hey, Maria and I were thinking about having a family dinner this week? What’d you think?”

Joel nodded after taking in Ellie’s reaction. “Sure. When?”

“Tomorrow? About 7?”

Joel nodded. “We’ll be there.”

“Hey.” 

Joel turned back to his brother. “Want to invite Y/n?”

Joel looked from his brother, to you where you were measuring out the centre of the wall on the ladder, and then back to his brother. “I can ask.”

Tommy smiled and Joel went on his way. “How long do’ya think it’ll take?”

“At this rate? An eternity.”

The next evening rolled around and you found yourself being dragged towards Tommy and Maria’s home by Maria. 

“My shift ran late but I didn’t want to come empty handed.” You explained to Tommy and Joel as you were practically launched inside by the former’s wife. 

“All is forgiven.” Tommy told you as he showed his wife what was in the tupperware you’d brought with you. “Right?”

“Yes, all is forgiven. Now let’s eat.”

Sitting down at the dinner table, Joel held out his arm and let you walk inside before him, where he held your chair out for you before tucking you under and sitting beside you and Ellie sitting on his other side. 

However, halfway through dinner, your body jerked til you sat straight. “You okay?”

“I’m fine. Just twisted myself.”

All in all, it was a nice family dinner. A couple stories were shared, some updates given and then you found yourself being walked home by Joel since Ellie had given a small salute to you both before reaching your path, saying she had to rush home to do…something. 

“Have fun, kids.”

“Take the main road!”

“Whatever you say!”

Joel gave a small groan. “She’s gonna give me a heart attack one of these days.”

You smiled. “She’ll be safe, Joel.”

Walking you to your door, Joel saw your body react to something that didn’t seem to be there. 

“Are you sure you’re okay? That’s the forth-”

You let out a laugh. “I promise, Joel. I’m okay. Just twisted myself on patrol today.”

He didn’t seem to believe you. “I swear. I’ll be okay.”

With a sigh, Joel accepted your promise. “Okay.”

Then you did something that even shocked you. You leaned up and kissed him on the cheek. “Thank you, for walking me home. And for inviting me. It was a fun night.”

“I’m glad you enjoyed it.”

“We should do it more often.”

Joel smiled. “Just might.”

Then a familiar silence settled over both you and Joel. The kind of silence that was begging for something more. But then, taking in a breath, you stepped back. 

“Thank you, again. Goodnight, Joel.”

“G'night, Y/n.”

As you shut and locked the door, Joel found himself smiling as he walked away, his gaze drifting back to your home every now and again as he made his way back down the path and through the town to his own home where Ellie was waiting for him in the living room. 

“So, did you kiss her?”

“Shouldn’t you be in bed?” The look Joel gave Ellie made her feel like she was under a spot-light. It was past ten pm. 

“Answer the question?”

“Ellie.”

Standing dramatically, Ellie sighed. “Come on. I know you like her. And she likes you. Why not just kiss her already? Give the rest of us a break from the looking, and the staring and the smiling and the looking.”

Taking his daughter by her shoulders, he steered her towards the stairs and up them. “Teeth and bed. Now, please.”

“Ugh, fine. But you know I’m right.”

“Goodnight, Ellie.”

Eventually, after hearing the tap turn off and Ellie’s bedroom door shut, Joel shut his own and lay down in bed, his last thoughts being on you and what Ellie had said. 

I know you like her. And she likes you.

A few days passed, however, before he saw you again. Which worried him more than he wanted to admit. But when he finally did, he knew the minute he saw you something was wrong. 

Ellie had knocked on your front door early in the afternoon having snuck out of school. She’d invited you to watch a movie or two with her and Joel that evening. 

“We found a whole bunch at the back of one of the closets. Please say yes.”

You smiled. You’d been dying to see both of them for days but the pain that had started as your side had practically spread across your entire body overnight. 

“Okay. So long as it’s okay with Joel.”

“He said it’s okay.”

Joel didn’t know anything about it until Ellie got home from school and told him what would be happening. But he wouldn’t have said no anyway. 

Ellie had practically flung the door off its hinges when she saw you walking up the steps of their porch. 

“Someone’s excited.”

“Come on, come on, come on.” 

Ellie pulled you inside and shut the door. “Joel! She’s here.”

“Is the door still attached? No Ellie sized hole in it?”

“He’s been grumpy all week.”

“I heard that!”

Then he appeared around the corner and your heart did the same thing it had been doing for weeks whenever you did see him. But that only caused you more pain in your chest. 

“Ellie, go and bring the box down. We need to see which ones need to be rewound.”

Ellie looked between the pair of you before disappearing up the stairs. 

“Hey, sorry I didn’t-”

“Show me.”

“What?” You took a small step back as Joel was about to take one forward. 

“Y/n. Show me.”

Carefully walking over to you, you shook your head. “I’m fine, Joel.”

He was a little less abrupt this time. “Show me?”

His fingers traced the hem of your t-shirt and with a reluctant but painful sigh, you carefully removed your jacket with his help. 

“Can I?”

With a soft nod, Joel took his eyes from yours and lifted the corner of your t-shirt only to be met with deep purple bruises with spots of black, green and yellow. 

“It’s not as bad as it looks. It’s starting to heal.”

Joel didn’t seem amused. “Y/n-” Then he noticed the others. “You’ve been cut. Jesus. Fuck. Come with me.”

Taking your hand in his, he pulled you towards the kitchen. “Sit down.”

“Joel, I’m fine.”

“Sit down.”

“If I sit down, it hurts more.”

Another silence washed over you both before he turned back to his freezer and pulled out a couple of ice packs. “Here…can I?”

You gave him your permission once more and he lifted your t-shirt and placed the ice packs against your sides. You could feel his thumb rubbing light lines across your side as he held you steady. 

“Got 'em’ I think a couple- holy shit.”

Ellie got a clear view of the deep bruises across you. “Ellie, can you run and get the first aid kit from the bathroom?”

“Yea, are you okay?”

You nodded. “I’ll be fine. I promise.”

“Ellie.” Joel pushed. She nodded quickly then ran upstairs in search of the kit. 

“That’s what you told me.” Joel mumbled under his breath. 

“It didn’t look this bad.”

“When did it happen?”

There was no point in lying to him anymore. “Patrol before the dinner.”

“Who did it?”

“I slipped and fell against one of the trees.”

Flicking his eyes from your wounds and back to your face, one of his hands ran around the rim of your top until it was lifted high enough for him to get a clear picture, he shook his head. “Trees don’t tend to have rifles as branches.”

“It was mine.”

Joel pointed at one of the longer bruises. “This one…is yours.”

He pointed at the other one. “Whose was this?”

He looked you in your eyes but you shook your head. “Joel…”

“Got it.” Ellie landed at the bottom of the stairs. 

“Thanks, kiddo.”

Pulling a chair out, Joel sat beside you. “Sure you don’t want to sit?”

You shook your head. “Not yet.”

“Okay. Ellie, go and see if you can rewind some of those tapes.”

She just nodded slowly. “Okay.”

Joel waited until she left the room before asking you to remove your shirt. It took you a minute but with his help you finally got it over your head. Under any other context, Joel’s eyes trailing your body would have been for another reason outside of his brain counting each cut and scrape you’d gotten and each bruise that was trying its best to heal. 

“This might sting.”

You nodded and bit your lip as the cold disinfectant hit your wounds. Some of them you didn’t even know existed considering you could only turn your body so far to look in the mirror before it screamed for you to remain still. 

“Was it your partner?”

You swallowed thickly. “No.”

Your back was to him for the moment, so that made it easier to tell him the truth. “One of the others. They were hearing noises. His partner had left him and he got lost. Must have heard me and just…jumped. He didn’t mean to. He’s just a kid, Joel. He got scared. Did what most of us would have done.”

“You could have been shot.”

“But I wasn’t. I’m okay, Joel.”

He shook his head. “Says the woman covered in bruises and scars.”

“They’ll heal. I’ll heal.”

“What’s his partner’s name?”

“Joel.”

“Just tell me. If you don’t, I’ll ask around and Maria can be the one to deal with him.”

You sighed. “Promise me you won’t do anything stupid.”

“What his partner did was stupid.”

“Joel.”

He grunted. “I promise.”

Swearing halfway through as Joel pressed another cotton swab of disinfectant to a scar, you told him his name. Joel had a couple of run ins with him over the last couple of months. A jock twenty years out of college, still trying to haze the kids under his authority. 

Ten minutes or so later, Joel had finished and replaced the ice packs you’d been holding at your side. 

Laying them on either side of your body as you turned around, your t-shirt falling back around your body. He slowly stood and you held onto his arms, your eyes closing. 

“Any better?”

You nodded. “Much. Thank you.”

You both stood there for a few moments, your eyes closed, feeling the throbbing in your sides settle more than it had done in the last couple of days. And as you let out a calm breath, Joel leaned against you a little and pressed a kiss to your forehead before you rested it against his chest. 

“I think I’m ready to sit now.”

“Okay,” Joel whispered before pressing another kiss to the top of your head before walking with you into the living room, finding a set up already made by Ellie. 

“I thought the blankets might help.”

You smiled at her. “Thank you, Ellie.”

She smiled from her spot on the floor by the TV, her finger still holding the rewind button down. Joel helped you sit down. 

“So, what are the options?”

Ellie read out a couple of the boxes. There were a lot of Disney films, a couple of thrillers and a few more different blockbusters. So, sticking his hand into the box without looking, Joel pulled one out. 

Ellie read the cover. “Field of Dreams.”

“Ooh, that’s a good one.”

Ellie looked at Joel for confirmation and he nodded. “Stick it in, kid.”

Sitting beside you, you leaned against Joel for support and very soon after, Ellie joined his other side. 

“Does he dream about a field?”

“Just watch it and you’ll find out.”

Around 40 minutes into the movie, Joel felt a steady weight against his arm where he turned and found Ellie fast asleep. So carefully reaching over, he pulled a blanket over her and held her steady against him. 

“She asleep?”

“Yep. Yet to get through a movie with her awake.”

You smiled. 

“You get much sleep recently?”

“Enough to keep me going.” Joel didn’t say anything but when he placed his arm around your shoulders, that said everything. 

“This always made me cry.” You whispered to Joel as Archie stepped across the line and became his older self. 

“How many times have you seen this film?” He’d caught you a couple of times mouthing the lines along with the characters. 

You felt your cheeks heat. “A couple. Before I came to Wyoming, one of my neighbours had a VCR and two films. This and The Parent Trap. Since I’d look after her two kids when she worked, it didn’t take long for me to learn the scripts.”

“So how much do you know of The Parent Trap?”

You felt yourself chuckle. “We can watch it and find out.”

Joel laughed quietly, too, before carefully pulling you closer. “How’s your side?”

You looked up at him. “Better. Thank you.”

“Good.”

Joel pressed a kiss to your head before getting settled with both you and Ellie. And just as Kevin Costner started to play a game of catch, you felt yourself drift off to sleep. 

You didn’t know how long had passed since the movie ended but when your body hit a soft surface, you stirred awake. 

“Shush, it’s okay. Go back to sleep.”

“Joel.”

“It’s okay. I’m gonna check on Ellie.”

Leaning down, he pressed a kiss to your head but you mustered enough energy to reach out for him. “Come back.”

“I promise.” Lifting your hand, he pressed a light kiss to your knuckles. You woke up again when a weight dipped on the other side of the bed. Then you heard a familiar groan as his body settled into the softness of the mattress. 

You shuffled closer to Joel. 

Waking for the third time, the room was being lit with the soft rays of the sun and beside you, deep breaths were being taken by Joel as he remained in a deep sleep. 

If this was anyone else, you probably would have left. Hell, you wouldn’t have fallen asleep in the first place. But you trusted Joel. More so than most. You also found him to be steadier than most. He’d shared some of what had happened on the road with him and Ellie, as well as what happened before. Life hadn’t been steady with him, and yet, there he lay. Stable. Able. Strong. Maybe not as he was twenty years ago, but still. Trustworthy. And beneath it all…kind. Caring. Sensitive; even if he wouldn’t admit it. He knew when people were hurt, or hurting. And maybe for others he’d seem gruff. But not with you. Not with Ellie. Not with those he loved and cared deeply for. 

With his hand wrapped over yours, you lifted it and pressed a kiss to the back of his hand. Maybe Joel Miller could be an asshole. But to you he was a decently kind man. 

Maybe others wouldn’t see that considering between the hour that Joel had left to pick a package up from Tommy, leaving you and Ellie to find another tape to play, your attacker’s partner found his nose broken and had been given a black eye. But you didn’t mind his kindness being kept a secret from the rest of the world. 

Those he cared for knew the truth. 

You knew the truth. 

And nothing could ever change that. 

[headkiss]

hello! a summer request for my sweet hotch, maybe him taking care of reader's allergies or a cute picnic date (jack included)

hope you have a lovely day sweetheart 🩷

hiii tysm for your request!! hope you’re having a lovely day too angel 🫶 so sorry it’s not summer anymore but hopefully you still enjoy! | 0.8k words of fluff!!

Aaron is not known to take many days off, but summer seems to get him out of the office more than any other season. Even more so ever since he met you.

More again as soon as he introduced you to Jack, to the most important person in his life. Jack liked you immediately, and he never stops asking when he’ll see you next. Though there’s a void left behind by Haley that will never quite be filled, you all know it, but your presence in both of the Hotchner’s lives has brightened them in ways Aaron doesn’t think you could understand.

It’s why, today, he’s taken the day off on purpose. He’d even gone as far as to tell the team not to call him unless absolutely necessary. He trusts them, and they bug him to take breaks more than anyone, anyways.

There’s a classic red and white gingham blanket spread beneath you on the grass, the sun bright in the sky and saturating the park around you.

Aaron’s barely unpacked the snacks before Jack is jumping up and asking his dad for permission to go play.

“Only where I can see you,” Hotch says, “okay, buddy?”

“I know, dad!” Jack’s already running off before you can even tell him to have fun.

Aaron watches his son go, squinting in the sun, keeping an eye on Jack until he’s made it to a small group of other kids by the slide before turning back to you.

You’re scrunching your nose and rubbing at your eyes when he does, and Aaron frowns a little when you sniffle.

Always far too observant, he tilts his head at you and asks, “You okay, honey?”

You nod, because you really are.

You’ve had allergies for most of your life, you think, so it’s nothing to worry about. It’s just annoying. You’d woken up and could already tell it was a bad day for them, less air passing through your nose, your eyes itchy.

But days like these—the ones with Aaron and Jack and beautiful weather and nobody working—are rare, and you’d never be caught giving up time with your people just because of some allergies.

“I’m fine, just my allergies.” You smile at him and grab a nacho from the spread, dipping it into the layered salsa from the grocery store and popping it into your mouth.

“Why didn’t you tell me they were acting up?” Hotch asks, thumb wiping a bit of salsa from the corner of your mouth gently without a thought. Sweet and subconscious.

“Because you would’ve made me stay in bed and bring me soup like it was the flu,” you say, knee bumping his. “I’m out of meds, but I didn’t wanna miss this. Jack was so excited and I was, too. I love being with you guys.”

And fuck, Aaron’s heart squeezes in his chest at the way you speak so fondly about him and Jack, like they’re your own family. At how you’re willing to be uncomfortable just to keep plans intact.

He trails a knuckle down your bare arm, all the way down until he catches your hand and gives it a squeeze. “We don’t have to stay long.”

“I know,” you scoot closer and drop your head against his shoulder.

It’s only twenty minutes later, and after many sneezes (and ‘bless you’s from Aaron), he’s packing up the picnic and not letting you argue it. Your eyes are reddened and watery, and he can hear how stuffy your nose is by your voice, and he doesn’t want you to feel worse.

And maybe he likes the idea of getting to take care of you over something small like this. How domestic it is.

“Alright, let’s go home, yeah?” Aaron pats your thigh softly. “I know you wanted to tough it out, but i can tell it’s bugging you. There’s a pharmacy down the street, we’ll stop for meds.”

There’s no sense fighting him when your allergies are bugging you, when he’s so stubborn with his plans, with how kind the tone of his voice is.

“Okay. Maybe we can watch a movie when we get back? Jack can pick since we’re making him leave early.”

“You sure?” Aaron raises his eyebrows. “He’s gonna make us watch Big Hero 6 for the hundredth time, you know?”

“I know that you secretly love that movie.”

“That wore off at the tenth watch, honey.”

You laugh, then sneeze, and Aaron shakes his head at you fondly before calling Jack back over and promising to buy him a candy bar at the pharmacy for cutting his game short.

The candy bar is long gone by the time you’re all settled on the Hotchner’s couch to watch Big Hero 6 again, and you and Aaron share a secret smile when Jack announces it as his pick.

[bettys-redwinesupernova]

I GET YOU

rafe cameron x fem!reader

( moodboard does NOT depict readers appearance !! )

WARNINGS: none? i can’t really think of anything, just pure fluff! soft!rafe :’) maybe the slightest mention of worrying about what others think/fear of being judged? lmk if i missed anything !!

SUMMARY: rafe and weird!reader are one of the strangest couples in the obx. nobody has any clue how the cunning and cruel rafe cameron is dating the epitome of sunshine. but rafe just gets her, and she just gets him🫶

based on this ask !! i hope you enjoy 🍮🍒 anon, and i hope it was what you asked for, and i added in that the reader makes jewellery and collects sonny’s angels :) and sorry for the late post !! <3

WORD COUNT: 1.1k

THIRD PERSON +

The Outer Banks sun was blazing overhead as Y/N wandered down the streets of Kildare Island. The vibrant clinking of her many bracelets echoed softly in the quiet cul-de-sac as she adjusted her brightly colored tote bag over her shoulder. It was filled to the brim with craft supplies—beads of every color, rolls of thread, and the newest addition to her collection: two tiny Sonny’s Angels figurines she’d found at a small thrift shop on the mainland.

She was a walking burst of color. Her patchwork denim jeans were covered in hand-sewn floral patterns, her lime-green tank top layered over a long-sleeved baby tee, and her hair was adorned with barrette clips in the shape of stars and hearts. The contrast between her aesthetic and the neutral, coastal tones of the OBX locals was stark. She stuck out like a sore thumb—and she didn’t care.

And Rafe Cameron loved her for it.

From his perch on the porch steps of Tannyhill, Rafe’s blue eyes tracked her approach, his lips quirking into a soft, almost amused smile. He watched as she practically skipped up the gravel driveway, clutching her tote bag like it held treasure.

“Rafey!” she called out, her voice a melodic lilt that never failed to make his chest ache in the best way. “Guess what I found!”

He chuckled, standing up and brushing off his khaki shorts. “What, another one of those creepy little baby dolls?”

She gasped in mock outrage, clutching her heart. “They’re not creepy! They’re little angels, and they’re adorable. Look!” She yanked the two figurines from her bag and held them up like prized possessions. One was dressed as a strawberry, the other as a little chef.

Rafe leaned down, squinting at the tiny figures in her hands. “Yeah, adorable is one way to put it,” he teased, but his grin betrayed his words.

“Don’t be mean,” she said, poking his chest lightly. Her rings sparkled in the sunlight as she did so. “You just don’t understand their charm.”

“I don’t,” he admitted with a shrug, wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her into his chest. “But I understand you, and that’s enough for me.”

Her cheeks flushed at his words, and she buried her face in his chest. “You’re such a sap sometimes.”

“Only for you.”

The two of them stood like that for a moment, swaying slightly in the breeze. The Cameron estate was quiet; Ward and Rose were off on one of their trips, and Sarah was, well, doing whatever Sarah did these days. It left Rafe and Y/N in a little bubble of their own, untouched by the world’s judgments.

“You wanna help me make something?” Y/N asked, pulling back slightly to look up at him.

“Make what?”

“A bracelet!” She stepped out of his arms, already rummaging through her bag. “I got these new beads, and I think they’d look great with your eyes.”

Rafe raised an eyebrow. “You wanna make me a bracelet?”

“Why not?” she said, grinning. “It’s not like you’re gonna wear it in public or anything. Unless…” Her grin turned mischievous.

“Don’t even think about it,” he warned, though his tone was light.

She giggled, plopping down on the porch steps and spreading her supplies out like an artist preparing her canvas. Rafe followed, sitting beside her and watching as her nimble fingers worked to thread beads onto a piece of elastic.

“Why do you do this?” he asked after a while, his voice soft.

“Do what?”

“This.” He gestured to her array of beads, figurines, and tiny tools. “All of it. The bright clothes, the crafts… you’re not exactly like anyone else around here.”

She paused, looking up at him with a small smile. “Because it makes me happy,” she said simply. “I like colours. I like making things. It’s who I am.”

Rafe nodded, taking her answer in stride. He’d always admired her confidence in being herself, even when people whispered about her behind her back or shot her strange looks in town. It was a level of self-assuredness he wasn’t sure he’d ever reach.

“You know,” she said after a moment, stringing a star-shaped bead onto the bracelet, “a lot of people think it’s weird that we’re together.”

“They’re idiots.”

She laughed, a light, airy sound that made his heart swell. “I know that. But still… you’re Rafe Cameron. People expect you to date, like, the cheerleader type. Not someone who spends their weekends thrifting for doll clothes.”

He reached out, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. His touch was gentle, his fingers brushing against the plastic barrette clipped in her hair. “Let them think what they want,” he said firmly. “You make me happy. That’s all that matters.”

Her smile widened, and she leaned in to press a kiss to his cheek. “You’re too good to me, Rafe Cameron.”

“Damn right I am,” he said with a smirk, though the teasing edge in his voice was softened by the way he gazed at her like she hung the stars in the sky.

She finished the bracelet a few minutes later, tying it off and holding it up for inspection. It was a mix of blue and white beads, with a single star charm in the center. “What do you think?”

“It’s perfect,” he said, letting her slide it onto his wrist. The contrast between the delicate bracelet and his rugged, calloused hands was almost laughable, but he wore it with pride.

“You look so cute,” she cooed, taking his hand in hers to admire her handiwork.

“Don’t push it,” he said, though the corner of his mouth twitched upward.

She leaned her head on his shoulder, her eyes drifting to the horizon where the sun was beginning to set. “You know, I used to think no one would ever get me,” she admitted quietly. “Like, really get me.”

Rafe turned his head to look at her, his expression softening. “I get you,” he said simply.

She smiled, tilting her head up to kiss him softly. “Yeah,” she whispered against his lips. “You do.”

The world around them seemed to fade away as they sat together on the porch steps, wrapped in their own little universe. It didn’t matter what the rest of the Outer Banks thought of them. They had each other, and that was more than enough.

For the first time in a long time, Rafe Cameron felt like he could be himself. And for Y/N, that was the greatest gift of all.

betty’s notes ౨ৎ ⋆｡˚

this was so so cute and so much fun to write !! i LOVE weird girl!reader soooo much and this was just the CUTEST🥹 i really hope this was what you wanted 🍮🍒 anon and i hope i got the aesthetics correct :) as always, please like and reblog as it means the WORLD to me <333

[grimespial]

Too Sweet

Carl Grimes x Shane's Son Male reader

slightly aged up just for plot reasons

You did not have a good relationship with your dad.

He was practically two different people in public and private. In private you were mostly ignored, but if you weren't, then you were just a disappointment.

All because of Carl and Lori Grimes.

Nothing you could do would make him proud, he would throw you away in the blink of an eye if it meant taking Rick's place.

You and Carl used to get along, but you couldnt help but push him away, atleast it could be played off with you being older and teen moods.

Rick tried to include you, he was more of a dad to you than Shane, talking, playing, sports, just spending time but it just hurt.

So when the apocalypse starts, it's not a suprise you just happen to be left.

You somehow made your way to a farm, hoping it would be abandoned, but of course it wasn't and a woman on a horse came at you.

That's how you ended up joining the Greene family. It was hard. You actually got cared for, you practically were adopted

But then a boy was shot and Hershel had to help, and of course the people you honestly never wanted to see again had to show up.

Rick almost choked you with the hug he gave, Shane wasn't back yet, still out with Otis. The man who was teaching you to hunt with a gun because a knife won't always work.

Your dad came back, alone. You were already Maggie and Beth's brother, but Otis was like an older brother. And now he's gone.

When Carl woke up, Rick with all good intent, told him you were here. You would think it was magic how quickly he healed enough to go looking for you.

He was so insistent. Didn't matter how much you walked away, or replied rudely, he would just follow you everywhere.

For Carl, it was worth getting shot, because now you're back! He missed how you two hung out and when everything went down he didn't think he would ever see you again.

Everything was horrible with Shane, his whole group didn't even know you existed, even worse when they thought Shane was Carl's dad at the very beginning.

The Greene family were on edge around Shane, sometimes even getting hostile if he started crossing the line against their brother and son.

Rick had to step in and tell Shane to leave you alone until they found Sophia, because Hershel warned him they'd get kicked out if it continued.

Your relationship progressed without you or Carl noticing, but everyone else did.

Carl included you in everything, and included himself in anything you did.

It was hard to get over the jealousy, but with Shane gone and how Carl seemed so happy to spend time with you, like you were the greatest thing in the world, it was easier to heal.

Maggie was having the time of her life teasing you, hypocritical considering her and Glenn can't leave eachother alone.

What pushed you two to date was when Lori died. Daryl asked you to look after Carl, so you did. Spending time in his cell, getting him outside for some fresh air, just talking to him.

When he wanted some private time, you cared for Judith instead. Hershel joked that neither you or Beth should think about having a baby antime soon.

Maggie, humorous as always, told him there was no worry on your side unless Carl could get pregnant.

It was later when Carl came out of his cell, you were still looking after Judith while Beth made milk and Glenn helped Maggie make some food.

That night, you stayed up with Carl. He was struggling to sleep lately, so you stayed up until he fell asleep. This night he just started crying.

So you just hugged him. Nobody spoke. The only sound was Carl hiccuping and breathing while you wrapped your arm around his shoulder.

When Carl quieted down, he turned to see you, but you were already looking at him. And you were close.

It was easier to push away any feelings before, there was no time to think over feelings, more important things were happening.

But here you were face to face and before you knew it Carl kissed you.

Carl is practically your owner and you're the guard dog. Stubborn is your middle name, but one whisper of your name from Carl and you listen.

He never gets over the butterflies or blushing, you hold his hand and he's practically burning and trying to hold his smile back.

You constantly were protecting him. There was technically no need, he could take care of himself perfectly fine, but you insisted on it.

Sometimes it got annoying to him and he'd snap, Rick would end up explaining that you just care for him and dont want him to get hurt.

It's free entertainment for the adults watching you two go through a relationship.

You both sneak away from the group to make out, but when youre on the road its harder and Carl really doesn't want to make out in front of anyone, especially his dad.

You do end up breaking that rule one day, you were with Michonne after the prison fell, and when you found him you both just ran to eachother.

Cuddles are mandatory.

You have to be watched when eating, because you will just give Carl your food if it means he's healthier, Carl was not happy when he found this out.

Carl loves being pampered by you but he'll pretend he doesn't, but if you can't for whatever reason it doesn't feel right.

this is based off the Carl fic i have with the same premise, i might end up putting it on ao3...

[miaoua3]

hey im sorry but can you make a hcs like the one you did for seungcheol and make it for mingyu? im sorry and i wanna tell you i love all of your writing so baddddd hehe keep on writing girllll im rooting for you

hi! first of all thank you so much for the nice words! you’re support really means a lot to me guys, it’s the reason why keep on going even on the days where i feel tired and not motivated enough to do it😭🫶

second of all, by “hcs like the one you did for seungcheol” i feel like you’re talking about the spicy one’s? but since someone already asked me for both soft and spicy one’s i hope you won’t mind that i will do soft hcs as well?

anyway, again, thank you so much for your support, hope you enjoy this!

Mingyu Boyfriend Headcanons:

•(sfw! hcs):

will literally follow you around the house all the time, you could be doing some chores and he will just follow you, maybe help a little, and yap 100 miles per hour, and when you don’t pay attention he will pull on your shirt until you look at him and say while pouting “babe you aren’t even listening to me, pay attention to me 3:(“

smitten, in love and absolutely whipped are some of the ways to describe mingyu since he met you and you two started dating, he’s always just staring at you with his big boba eyes and smiling gently, if it were socially acceptable (read: if the members weren’t around) he would probably be kicking his feet too

the cuddliest teddy bear ever, he will hug you no matter what you are doing- standing in front of a hot stove with boiling oil sprinkling everywhere? he’s on your back, hunched due to his height and leaning his head on your own (also complaining when a bit of oil sprinkles on his arms), standing in front of him and scolding him about something? his hands are locked around your waist while he pouts at you for scolding him instead of kissing him :( you get the gist of it lol

goes without saying but he’s constantly cooking you-breakfast, lunch either to bring to work or at home, and dinner, he’s constantly cooking for you, making you taste test everything and absolutely cooking way too much than you can eat, if you try to cook something for him for a change because you feel bad that he’s cooking that much when his schedule is much more packed than yours he will just be like “ 3:( baby what did i say about this?”

he’s so hyperactive that sometimes you have hard time catching up to him, he constantly wants to be doing something, be it sports or go out with friends and sometimes you just want to rot in your bed for 3 days straight- and ofc he won’t make you do anything you don’t want to, it’s just that he will probably pout all the time while doing the said activities and come home earlier because he missed you too much

hugs you to death when you two sleep together, to the point you need to smack him to go easy on your intestines or you will puke on his silk sheets lol

loves doing skincare together, it’s just relaxing doing it together while you two yap about your days, helping each other apply things correctly, and it always makes him feel easier seeing you taking care of yourself, he always worries that because he’s so busy he can’t see if you’re doing your best to take care of yourself (mentally) so seeing you being so happy and enjoying yourself while you two are doing this together makes him feel at ease

•(nsfw! hcs):

is definitely a service dom, so eager to please you, won’t stop until he feel you shaking with pleasure and sees tears streaming down your pretty face

LOVES PUSSY MORE THAN AIR, if he could, he’d be living between your legs, just lapping away at your clit while you trash in his hold, your legs over his shoulders, feet pushing at his back, whenever he’s giving you oral best believe he isn’t stopping for the next several HOURS (rip girl lmao), he just love how you taste so much, he’d literally just be moaning in your pussy and if he comes in his pants from just eating you out? well that’s nobody’s business but his (and yours by default)

has a praise kink too, but unlike the other boys who like to praise you, he want YOU to praise HIM, just grabbing his hair and moaning in his ear how good he’s fucking you, how big he is inside of you, how he’s simply the best for you-and if you let a little “good boy” slip out? well, let’s just say he will be cumming really quickly and that it will make him even more motivated to make you feel good

definitely gets off seeing your tummy bulge, just seeing how far inside of you he is and how your stomach moves when he is too gets him off like nothing else, makes his head spin and makes him moan so loudly (wonu definitely hates you two rabbits lmao)

insist on seeing jesus at least once a week by making you sit on his face, there’s nothing better than feeling your entire weight on his face, your smell surrounding him while he’s eating your pussy like its his last supper, and the fact that you aren’t touching and he isn’t able to grind on the bed how he would if he was just laying down between your legs? well, let’s just say mingyu might have a little thing for having his orgasms be delayed a bit (but don’t tell the gang, they will never shut up about it lol)

one of his favourite positions has definitely got to be cowgirl, just seeing you on top of him, bouncing up and down his big dick, struggling from time to time so he has to guide your hips or take matters in his own hands and fuck upwards into you, you tits bouncing as well- there may not be a heaven on earth but he comes close to it every time you ride him til he sees god

has stamina of an animal, can and WILL go for hours to no end, in the end you will just be with your face pressed in the pillow and ass in the air, totally limp so mingyu will have to hold your hips to keep them in the air, moaning away while he chases his high (he will take care of you afterwards and if he sees you literally can’t do it anymore or that it’s causing you more harm than pleasure he will immediately stop, dw)

[icarusredwings]

Thinking about married poolverine at the x mansion for the Christmas parties.

I like to think that even after he's quit drinking and is older, Wade lets him sit around the mansion and drink a shit ton of egg nog and just.. chill. Wade won't let anyone ask him to do anything except.. what he didn't know.. is that he signed logan up to be santa for the younger kids, and he's definitely dressed as Mrs. Clause, a wig, heels, red and white fluffy skirt, everything.

"You want me to wear what??"

"Oh, come on its for the kids peanut! Besides... ill repay you later~"

"Wade, these kids are like 12 theyre not gonna-....fine"

By the adult party runs around and the kids under 21 are forced off into their rooms, morph kurt and logan are lounging on the couch trying to sing a german carol after busting out the GOOD Alchool but Kurt forgets half of it so its just the three of them mummbling nonsense and wade thinks its the cutest most humble thing he's ever seen Logan do. Just.. a guy being a guy with his friends. And he's so happy. Soooo happy to finally have them back. Even if these aren't HIS x men, he's missed this so bad. Later he will cry because he misses HIS x men but for now? Let him be not sober and forget about that.

"Alright santa. I think its time for bed." Wade says, still in his Mrs. Clause outfit, trying to tug Logans arm up.

"Aye! Get offa me! My husband will kill you!" He throws a fit and backs away, into kurt who's tail flickers and gives her a dirty look. Who does this woman think she is?? Trying to make his friend commit adultery???

Wade pauses, then giggles, realizing just how much makeup he had on right now. He's utterly estatic that Logan won't come with him. It's only really morph whos confused because that's obviously Wade. You would think the guy could smell his own husband right?? Yeahhh... not like this.

"Teehee and that right there is why it's bedtime, peanut." He says, hoping itll spark a few plugs but logan only does the Loading cat face, tilting his head. His face is red from the alchool and the santa make up.

"Don't call me that!" He whines.

Wade rolls his eyes, smiling. "Baby, come on. You're tired." He says in that special voice. The one that leads Logan down to earth when his anger is the only thing he can see when he forgets who he is, when he's having his PTSD attacks.

"... I am?"

"Yes. Now come on. Time for bed."

Kurt whispers not to be tempted by her in his ear, and it's back to square one. It takes Remy interfereing by telling Kurt that this "devil woman" IS Logan's husband and that it's okay.

The whole thing is a mess, and it has Rouge giggling her ass off, hugging her brother as his tail flickers still.

"Ooh!! You big buzz ball! Always lookin afta folks aint ya?" She tells him, squeezing him enough to make him wheeze. "Careful cher, Gambit thinks he wants his ribs attached."

"Nonsense! A lil roughhousin nevah killed nobody!!"

You just see him trying to take Wade to their room and Logan does the little slap at his arms and is like "I can walk by myself lady! Jeez!! ..... wheres my husband? Im gonna tell on you!!"

"I AM your husband." Wade says, finally taking off the wig and caressing his chop the way he usually does. Logan's eyes squint, his eyebrows burrowing together before dilating, and Wade can swear he heard his heart beat quicken.

Laura gags.

"....'sup" he says, pulling him closer with a big idiotic grin.

Wade squeals, now trying to push him away. "Eww!! Never say that again!" He giggles. "You big lud! Bedtime!"

It's the absolute sweetest thing anyone ever witnessed, and it makes Jean happy too to know someone did infact take the big bad putty tat home. Finally-

This is how I want every teacher au Christmas fic to go you understand me? No sentinal drama. No worries. Maayyybbee Magneto if he behaves.

Just let this man be HAPPY for once.

[samodivaa]

Thrill me, Fulfill me

You agreed to help for one mission—now you are both lustful and carnal, affected by sex pollen—you are flint, he is tinder.

Warnings - sex pollen, smut, rough/possessive sex, Hydra past, breeding kink, choking kink, multiple orgasms

Words - 8k

(the 3D render is for this fic, enjoy :3)

The horizon tips on its side, and slowly, hour by hour, the day spills out and soon the night will spread its darkness—traveling through the countryside is a charming escape and in a chronicle of events, with the light of the days—you feel the light inside too, your human spirit wanders in thoughts as you sit on the BMW’s trunk with closed eyes. It is June, and the world smells of roses, moments like these leave a rich heritage of beautiful memories in their going—in a fortunate combination of delightful weather, Bucky and freedom—your soul feels at peace.

“I talked with Sam, he wants me to help him” There is an endearing nervousness in his voice “I was wondering if you would like to come with us”

In an instant, you reply with an annoyed face “No”

“No? Come on, you need people other than me in your life”

He scolds as he nests between your legs, fingers finding their way on both sides of your hips, drawing soft circles as they travel up towards your waist.

You arch an eyebrow at him, as if the answer is obvious “I don’t need others”

“You will love Sam, I told him about us, I mean-about us living together”

“You did, why?” you clip your words, hissing them into his face as you give a wide-eyed, searching look.

“I used to invite him over to my apartment, he started wondering why I stopped. I wanted him to know anyways”

“What else did you tell him?” you look at him with an arrested expression. His smile fades, and he finds himself staring into your eyes “James?”

It is only a brief moment, but you catch his blink of surprise at your demanding tone before he offers a tentative smile.

“I-I told him about your connections and he was hoping that-” he trails off quietly and you notice a tightness around his mouth and a dimness to his usually bright eyes.

You regard him thoughtfully and he sees the comprehension dawning in your eyes. You know exactly what he is asking.

“Did you miss the part of how I built them?” you ask, your voice dripping with sarcasm.

He huffs in annoyance “Well no, but don’t worry-”

“Oh, hey Sam, I am another brainwashed assassin and when I escaped I did it willingly, for money, nice to meet you by the way”

“I get it, but you are changi-”

You snap, pinching your eyebrows close together.

“And this is my former partner who I used to occasionally fuck at Hydra and now that we have reconnected, we are fucking and living together”

“Anything else you want to add?” 

“No, that's all” you finish bitterly, furious with him for letting Sam know so much about you.

“He already met you once in Madripoor, he knows about your past. Trust me, he is a good person, he accepted me”

You let out a hollow laugh

“I am not Captain America’s best friend, James. I am nobody, I don’t even have a legal identity”

You explain in a humorous yet deprecating tone, staring into space.

“Look at me, you need to trust me” he coos, his blue eyes have a doorway to your heart, the place where his care for you resides “I know that you are scared, but you need other people in your life”

It's the caring that he lovingly gives, the passion that he shows—that convinces you every time.

“If I break your heart, I break mine, darling”

Shifting your mouth from a frown into a light-hearted smile, you let out a small chuckle from underneath your breath. His metal hand rests on the small of your back, in that sweet spot that makes you feel feminine and protected—vanity, fear, uncertainty—all such distortions within your own ego—condition you to stay silent about your own feelings. Your programmed mind-pattern still needs to heal, all you need is time, you will get there eventually.

You kiss him on the cheek, which kind of surprises him.

“Хубаво, ще дойда” (Okay, I will come)

His gaze flickers up to your eyes and he can detect no deceit, no mockery. 

There are many circumstances that lead to arrogance: one is when you're wrong and you can't face it—but you decide to face it this time, because you know that your brain relies on the familiar. It is reluctant to experience the unknown, which is the very essence of your human life.

The past should have no power over the present, but it still does sometimes—anger and death are deeply rooted, your emotional thermostat is broken. Everything in you is broken—you view yourself as pieces and Bucky somehow sees you as a whole.

Inside, your soul was so cold that you hated everything. You even despised the sun, for you knew you would never be able to play in its warm presence—you were condemned to stick to the past, working as a hitman for years. Everything changed when Bucky decided to track you down. You knew he was spying on you, because you made it easier for him.

You were afraid of the aloneness that you trusted for so long, but that is the truth that you still store in the granary of your mind. Maybe you will tell him one day. Maybe one day you will let him know that he helps you abandon your corporeal prison.

"Я просто люблю запах страха" (I just love the smell of fear) you whisper—a knife-wielding lunatic.

You face the attackers in a kind of instantaneous flash and see the disconsolate eyes, which remain stamped on your heart like the hot coals of fear, the power of death is then borne out by you—the queen at the bloody carnival, not afraid to spill blood while Bucky tries to prevent hurting, killing people at all cost.

It is easy when you work together, just as in the past—but he is holding back, you are not used to seeing him fight so carefully—Winter’s brutality is non-existent.

You sigh as the last man drops dead to the ground. With a knife in his chest. Or, rather, a pair of knives in the chest.

Yes, you helped them locate the rumored Hydra base, but Bucky’s intense paleness on his face shows regret, because you still don’t mind killing—you give him a pitying smile when your eyes meet before your system is poisoned with something.

It is such a tumultuous and intemperate invasion that you forget why you are here. And then your eyes meet again, there is fascination in his gaze, menaced by some invisible danger, and you want to succumb the terrible desire to weep when you realize what it is and you look at the mysterious trembling of your hands—your gaze goes up, but Bucky is nowhere to be seen.

He knows he has to go somewhere, he heads back to the apartment and he has feelings of sorrow, regret, directionless rage, a broad feeling of impotence. The horror of this misfortune penetrates Bucky so deeply that he is close to a panic attack—as if reliving the nightmare he sometimes has—Hydra giving him the pollen back in 1990.

He wanders all through the rooms as if walking in his sleep, chewing on his quiet rage.

He knows the theoretical mechanics of the pollen and he can barely stay on his feet because of the weakness of his knees, his skin is burning and he can’t resist the urgent need to palm himself through his pants—it starts slow and will go progressively worse. 

He rubs his hand over his scalp, where his long hair used to be—now shaved very close to his head and bristling against his fingers, he lowers his blue eerily crystalline eyes before closing them. He feels like he should be crying, but he couldn’t summon the tears.

—it’s all his fault. Why did he need to come to your apartment a year ago, on a beautiful August’s evening?

„I knеw that we were following me, Soldat,“ you loudly acknowledge him, drawing out the derogatory term while your back is turned to him.

Stillness wraps Bucky up in a cold embrace, a chill running down his body as he hears you speak. On the string spun of your angel voice, grief and pain drowns him. The tone drawn from memory in his dreams it’s the same, unblinking, robotic as you offer him one spare look before focusing on cutting vegetables on the wooden board.

He exhales, then he slowly enters the apartment. „It is not Soldat, it’s Sergeant now“ his breath hitches and he stops as soon as he enters the room.

There is a crack in his stoic expression, excruciating memories flooding his mind. He knew that somewhere, some day, maybe at a less miserable time, you may see each other again, but he couldn't wait any longer.

The memories are still in his mind and the pain—too ripe in his heart. The more deeply he felt, the less he was able to breath, thinking of grief, and of getting past it.

That's why he came. He needs you in more ways that he wants to confess.

„Oh? What do you want, Barnes?“ your face is carefully blank.

„I wanted to talk to you“ he starts, taking a couple of steps towards.

Shadows lick up the side of his cheekbones, making his skin gold as he slowly walks to the opposite side of the kitchen island, you hear him move the wooden seating.

„And you couldn’t just-I don’t know…have knocked on the door?“

„Sorry, I didn’t know how to-“

He says, a tremor makes his voice uneven. Bucky takes in a deep breath to balance out the embarrassment thrumming through him.

„It is easier to be loyal to past habits, can’t blame you“ you murmur, voice perfectly respectful as you think about it with a heavy heart.

You said it as a matter of fact, without the scorn and mockery, but as an accepted truth before placing the knife you have been using, on the cutting board and finally facing him completely as you step closer to the island as well, leaning forward on your elbows.

But the wintery feeling of the pollen is already clouding the pond, frosting the pane, obscuring that summer's memory of meeting you.

The memory played in his head, with a hopeless nostalgia that he was completely disoriented—he doesn't care if you are heartless, vicious and vulgar, stupid, grasping with incurable programming and mental problems, he enjoys spending time with you. He would rather have misery with you than happiness with any other person, because it is shared, you have a deep and silent understanding.

He was so happy when you suggested living together four months ago—he was okay with the sleepovers at each other's apartments—never was bothered with the need to rush your companionship.

The key to personal development lies in the daily routine—creating new memories with you stretches out psychological time, and lengthens his perception of both your and Bucky’s lives. When he wakes up from a nightmare he is so relieved, because he wakes to a dream, he enjoys the miracle of living with each other as much at the table as in bed.

Bucky finally lays on the bed, his head aches. He admits that he is still human, vulnerable, and sensitive—but he begins to remember how it had been when Hydra gave him the pollen and his self revolted at this, hates himself for not being able to fight it, hates himself for bringing you here.

He is sick with conflict, destructive emotions festeres in him while this sludge eats away at his insides and Bucky is acutely conscious of the swift passage of time, it will make him become blunt and callous—there is a certain clinical satisfaction in seeing just how bad things can get for him, but maybe this is what he deserves.

When you push open the bedroom door, you can’t prevent it from scraping against the uneven floor. Suddenly, in the absolute darkness of his mind, Bucky is brought back to reality. He is not surprised, for without knowing, he has been expecting you to come.

You close the door behind you as he stands up on his elbows—wondering why are you such a stubborn, blind, obtuse woman—why are you here?

Your scent carries across the room and paralyzes him with longing.

“Stay away, why did you fucking follow me?”

You stop in shock at the words he utters—they are so rusty, so ugly, so meaningless.

He is vulnerable, slightly paranoid. Although his voice is broken by uncertainty and his hands seem to doubt the existence of things—he tries to appear composed.

You can feel his eyes traveling up your whole body, staying on your side for a split second before moving up to meet your gaze.

“James, we don’t have another choice, we don’t have time”

You can't blame him—he is scared, scared and frozen, afraid of what he can do to you...the old primitive urge for sex. It's getting harder to control it with every passing minute—every second is lived with terrible intensity. It all flows over you with a screaming ache of pain—as you see him, the need grows even faster...and all you can do is remember and feel—the effects of the pollen—like a disease of the blood, dispersing throughout the body.

He looks like a bundle of past recollections, knotted up in a bundle of flesh.You remember what his flesh has gone through—but you also remember what he put you through that day. You feel the naked fear, the urge of self-preservation, you appear solid in front of him, but you are mimicking nothingness.

“God, I smell you. So hot and sweet”

The blank hell in the back of his mind starts to break through, spewing forth like a dark pestilence, the pollen eats away the pith of his humanity—the chaotic words pour out of his mouth as he gets up from the bed and you self-paralyze, your back hits the door—but this is the only way that will pull you both out of the plunge of—pain, need.

Your sexual attraction to him has been heightened beyond measure, as much as you try to bury it deep down in fear, the lust is getting greater than any other feeling or emotion. Every part of him is heightened to you now...his voice included.

He stops in front of you, belatedly realizing where his feet have carried him. There is no glamor, no attempt to hide it, nothing: his need taking slowly over all his senses. The unwelcomed bubble of intrusive lust, sinking into an even more heavily occluded state—you feel it too as he molds his front to yours and pins your breasts against his chest.

You are mesmerized by the tiny flecks of indigo in his blue eyes—you can drown in those eyes and it wouldn’t be the worst way to go. His beautiful features offer themselves to your gaze as you trail through them, annoyed at how attractive he looks—putting your mind into a darker cloud of irritation, waiting for him to do whatever he wants.

You feel stuffy, there is not enough air to breathe as he cages you against the door, his consciousness already vanishing and deforms itself in something primal, there is a delicious animal fire in his gaze.

“I want to taste you so desperately, it rages through me-fuck, fuck this-I want to fuck you”

His eyes are growing moist with indignation, with angry impotence, he is barely controlling himself. It is the natural sequel of an unnatural beginning— it’s hard—but not harder than his cock.

“Do it, come on” you gasp out.

“If you don’t get out of here, you know what will happen”

He explains weakly, and when you say nothing, he grabs your waist with both hands, vision already blurring. His bones fill up with foam, a languid fear, and a terrible desire.

Bucky’s control dies a slow death, shedding layers like leaves until—there will be none—he tends to be particularly rough, aggressive and possessive when given the pollen. You remember the feeling of possessiveness he had as the Winter Soldier over you, so intense it transformed into an obsession over your body.

“I'm not leaving, I need this as much as you” you say, tremulous with longing.

Bucky stares at your mouth as you speak—it looks provocative to him when you talk.

“Enough, dammit, leave”

His voice tightens, it pierces your soul—half agony, half lust.

You still have the choice of running away and finding someone else to do it, but leaving Bucky behind—you know there is not a girl in the world that can handle him, no one else has the serum, but you—your brain is ricocheting in between. It all drifts to the periphery of the mind when you meet Bucky’s eyes.

“It’s normal-” you say haltingly, your expression turns guarded.

He is livid, a sad look on his face

“We are not normal” he interrupts with a soft firmness “It’s insane to pretend we are”

You are both aware. Catastrophically aware.

“Stop talking, we’ve been through that once-”

and you look so well-equipped for this that is seems abnormal to Bucky, he is conquered by the obstinacy of you—so docile and willing to help—he wants to be emancipated for the moment from the torment of the pollen, but the guilt is still eating him.

“Do you remember the year it happened?”

"You always ask me whether I remember the stupid years, lets just-” you say with a shrug.

"It matters, it matters to me. I hate that you remember, I hate myself for what I've done to you” He explains, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear with his human hand.

"James” you whisper his name tremulously “I don’t blame you for anything”

His pain is paramount and you want it to end. His pain, his guilt. You are willing to suffer for the rest of your night so that he can take the easy way out of his needs. You admit it to yourself, without bitterness—you need to sacrifice dearly on behalf of Bucky. 

“I’ll lose control” What you cannot forgive is dishonesty—you would rather know the hideously unflattering truth of his devastating visions than foul evasions “If you try to run now, I will probably chase you down anyways”

With all that waiting you have lost the strength of your legs, the firmness of your breasts, your tenderness look—barely keeping your heart intact. Maddened by that prodigious talking, you shamelessly groan, closing your eyes.

“This is bad,” you whimper “Oh God, this is bad. Please, do something”

The next critical manifestation: the unbearable pain.

“Snezinka-” (snowflake)

“Stay with me” your eyes shone “Play with me, please” like those of a cat.

In that state of hallucinated lucidity—you just can’t take it anymore. Presently the need grows stronger, hesitating then no longer. The attempts to conceal the pollen’s effects don't work anymore.

“At least…give me permission this time” Bucky shakes his head, sadness vibrating through his body as he speaks through clenched teeth.

“Yes, do whatever you want” you moan, shaking, desperate for his touch.

And then you see something possessive wash over him, making your body shiver in anticipation.

“Please, I need yo-”

You say, nodding at the soul-reaching blue crystals, not looking away from him, but Bucky doesn’t let you finish as he kisses you. His lips are warm, his body is heat and muscles against you. He kisses you like a tide, gentle at first, but with the ability to drown, his fingers digging into your waist, urging you ever-nearer to him, even when it’s physically impossible to be. Then his fingers slithers over your chest, hands immediately find your breasts and he starts to massage them for his own pleasure.

His fingers curl around the edges of your soaked blood shirt, pulling and eventually tearing it away from your skin.

There is lust and there is pain, a whirling wheel—not stopping.

He wastes no time, kissing you deeply again, already missing the feeling of your skin.

“I am yours, you know that”

A simple reply, his voice cut into you like glass, his words bleeding into your skin. It isn’t something to be argued against, it’s the truth and you acknowledge that. It’s ridiculous, absurdly sentimental to think that you managed to lay a claim on him like you did in the past. 

You are trying to think of something, coming up short when he presses his hips flush against yours again, the chest harness wrinkling under the tight grip of your fists, pulling him and he hems you up against the door, grinding his cock against you. You slide one hand downwards, wrapping around his hard manhood and squeeze, Bucky moans quietly and involuntarily rolls into the contact, desperately seeking relief.

“Fuck” he says, a bit too breathlessly.

„James-this is not enough“ you undulate your hips against the aching bulge.

His name falling on his ears like that sent chills down his spine, he can hear the beat of his heart, his palms belong on your skin as he closes the gap between you. Nothing is sweeter, nothing else than you—lust is spreading like quickfire in his veins, groaning in the kiss.

“I know, I know” he whispers, a hint of exasperation and affront in his tone, leaning forwards to kiss you yet again, teasingly licking at your lips as he pulls away.

Sexual perversions mix with guilt and adrenaline as his mind sees in scattered images of varying vulgarity. Bucky grips your waist and lifts you off the ground with ease, dropping you softly on the luxurious white linen bed.

You lick your lips, trying to quench the thirst for him. Your throat is dry as you watch him between your spread legs—his belt clattering noisily as he unbuckles it, popping the buttons of his jeans open, followed by the low purr of his zipper coming undone, he drifts his hands down his sides and hooks both thumbs into his jeans, sliding them and the boxers down his legs. The corners of his mouth curve upward when he notices you staring a moment too long as he removes his jacket and shirt.

You remove your own pants and then you spread your legs open, positioned right in front of his standing body—one hand toys with your breast through the bra while the fingers of the other hook in your panties and drags them down your legs fast before throwing them in his direction.

His breath stutters as he catches them with his metal arm, becoming more and more aroused with every beat of his heart that runs down his shaft. It’s becoming more painful. He starts to pump his cock, the veins bulging beneath his grip—even in his large hand, it looks intimidating, the veins in his neck tightening.

He’s quite tall with broad shoulders and an athletic physique that even his leather jacket cannot hide. Your eyes continue their upward travel to his strong square-shaped face framed with short brown hair that falls to his shoulders and deep, blue eyes. 

He then craws on top of you and he cannot articulate a word, capable only of an animal sound, a strangulated wheeze that shocks him deeply, enraging him, this sudden loss of the faculty of speech that feels somehow bestial and forgotten now.

It is the impatience of the way he tears your bra from your body that really scares you: the pollen getting the better of him and you spread your legs wide, exposing your overall and the fragrance of the essences permits in the air, he smells it.

His cock nudges around your sleek mound until he gasps as he guides his sticky cockhead glides through your delicate folds. He doesn’t say anything as he slips inside you, burying himself to the hilt.

Sex with you this time is different, he has never felt this dominant, this claiming, this selfish. He is so far in that his balls are right against your pussy lips.

His greedy lips are once again on your skin, devouring everything he can—licking, sucking, and kissing, not holding back his throaty moans. He drags his lips up your throat, along your jaw, back toward your mouth. His lips are usually gentle and loving, promising long days and summer forever—but they soon turn sharp, peppermint, winter.

Animal logic. Prey. Predator… teeth dragging against your neck, living marks. The primal lust, the sheer need to claim you, quickly finding ways to express his sacred hunger to you in animal passion. He snarls out gluttonous groans against your skin as you clench and seize, pounding you harder as your body contracts. Pleasure breaks out like a wildfire, reaching around your temples; shooting up and down your spine.

You're perfect when you're underneath him, it's where you belong, beautiful face and pretty wide eyes locked onto his powder-blue orbits—curves cushioning him, your obedient body lush, muscular, but still feminine, your eyes flashing—and all he wants is to ruin you.

It's a sinful sight each time he buries the length of his cock all the way inside you, shaft slick and wet and glistening when he pulls it out. You make the prettiest noises when he shoves in deep only to pull out and slam himself back inside, you've got the prettiest expression as he grips your legs and folds them up to fuck his dick into you even harder than before.

“Don’t stop, don’t, please”

There is something raw and pleading in your voice that surpasses sexual desire, these fleeting moments of carnal craving.

He continues to trail his lips down the front of your throat and you realize that he is mouthing words against your skin “Mine. Mine. Mine”

“You feel so good every time, snezinka” he murmurs at your ear as slide to your throat and he tightens his grip on both sides on your neck, reducing the blood and oxygen to the brain. When he loosens, the rush of blood and oxygen to the brain results in an explosion of dopamine, followed by a shamelessly loud moan from your lips “I think that I love you”

“We’re drugged. That’s why,” you gaspe “Did you forget?”

Bucky acknowledges your words, they sink into him—he focuses his attention on your skin. He nibbles at your earlobe, loving the sharp intake of your breath, skin breaks out into a pale sweat and your eyes fill with tears. His trusts are ruthless.

“There is no pleasure as good as the feel of your pretty cunt wrapped around me” a dark edge creeps into his tone.

He says as he fills out pounds you, drawing a muffled scream from your throat as he starts to thrust more rapidly, setting a demanding rhythm.

Something strange starts to rage inside him, hearing you inhale sharply as he continues to kiss and bite your neck, leaving bruises deliberately and as he fucks you deeper, wanting to mark you in an entirely different way—he wants to breed you.

And you know you will wear the bruises of Bucky’s hands as you wear the scars of Soldat.

All extremes of the pollen are allied with madness, finally consuming his brain and body.

“You are so beautiful”

He says into your skin, tears welling, confused, mingling in his throat. Old wounds never truly heal, your past will never fully heal anyways. That one tear, that tiny, salty, droplet of moisture is a means of expression—joy, and torment. Although it's just a small tear, it is the heaviest thing in the world. And it doesn't do a damn thing to fix anything in this situation.

“James-” your whole body exhaled a lugubrious lament, your heart breaks for him.

His eyes are always soulful, in some way; they seem to say things that you know he's probably never say out loud.

“I know baby, I know,” he nibbles on the side of your neck “You are so beautiful, I am sorry-so sorry, I can’t stop” his growls erupt from his chest, the primal noise flooding your senses, making your insides clench around his length “I need this, I need you”

You’re powerless…utterly at his mercy and that’s what makes you cum—his voice sends shudders through your body, reacting in all the right ways to the words. The orgasm has gutted your vocal chords, and all you manage is a small gasp, tears slipping down the old salty trails as he doesn’t stop, his head lulling on your shoulder.

He leans down, nose brushing against yours as he pants, thrusts never faltering, his mouth hangs open with bliss, his cock plunging into you with skin-slapping speed and he finally reaches his orgasm, cock spurting a thick dollop of cum with each throb. He closes his eyes, because of the volcanic eruptions of fever still goes through his body—his orgasm is long, raw, reaching all his body senses.

Sex is unthinkable without roughness tonight—he is already thinking about his second orgasm—should he just cum in your mouth when he makes you fall to your knees… or if he should take you by the hair before he’s finished and fuck you into a sobbing heap before blowing his load. Of the few times Soldat has face fucked you—gagging you to near vomiting—you’ve never miss a drop of cum. He remembers it.

His hand closes around your throat and the grip tightens, slowly cutting into your skin while cutting off oxygen. It is more painful than lethal, but more erotic than painful. Your head is spinning, ears are ringing—suddenly, without warning, he withdraws completely, leaving you coughing and gasping for air. As you try to catch your breath, you feel him get up from the bed which urges you to come back to your senses faster.

In his temporary madness, an idea comes to his mind.

In seconds, he is back on top and when your vision finally clears—his lusty orbs descend to your cheeks, detailing your skin before leaning in to lick off your tears—some form of mercy which you don’t need.

He is now in that state of fire that excites you. You want to be burnt.

His eyes drift leisurely back up to your face and he smiles, nova-flare eyes blazing into your own—you look for love hiding in his eyes, in his face, and you find nothing but possessiveness.

But something is not right.

His eyes are cold and dark.And your heart stops.

He is taking you over. Staking a claim.

He slowly thrusts his hips forward, his cock pressing into your front, earning a squeal from you as he ruts back and forth dragging his length across your opening and then slowly plunges into you. You exhale, trembling as you feel the tip pressing against your opening and penetrating you. He is mesmerized by the sight of his cock disappearing inside of you, filling you up to the brim.

Bucky brings both of your wrists above your head and grips them in his metal arm, restraining you from moving them—and you tremble like a downy rabbit caught in the clutches of a wolf—he seizes you as boldly as Soldat used to capture his favorite prey—you—in the past.

A flash blinds you for a moment and you see him holding his phone—this feels surreal—leaving you breathless with an inexpressible delight of it. Bucky’s inner voice of lust speaks, it is so spontaneous and unannounced. Your mind searches for the logical thought of his action.

“Fuck, I can cum just by looking at it” He musters his primest tone, throwing the device to the side.

You whimper as your abdomen contracted painfully around his hard length at his words. He lets his fingers release your hands as his cold digits swipes back the hair from your face. Cursing, he grips the back of your neck and brings your lips to his while the metal ones grip your hip so tightly you are sure he’d leave a bruise. You whimper as he starts to fuck you, slamming you into the matress.

The usual warmth of his hands is not there. They chill your skin as they hold you close to his body, and you realize he is scared. The extreme joy mixes with the bone-crushing grief—what if you don’t want to be around him after this night? What if you condemn him, consider it with high and unjust resentment and leave him? It pierces his soul, but he can’t stop—he is half agony, half animal...the past beats inside like a second heart now.

Your soft fingers trail his face and continue to attempt a connection that he refuses to acknowledge at first—the past slips and vanishes like sand between the warm touch of your fingers, acquiring material weight, only in its recollection, because the more shared past there is in any relationship, the more present you need to be for each other.

“Let go," you whisper and he loosens the grips—he is ashamed of holding you so tightly "No, not of me," you say smiling.

You look right into his eyes, right into him as far as you can see, because you want him to hear you, you want him to hear you with everything you say—and his chest tightens as if some euphoric drug has gone straight to his nervous system—but it is not the pollen, it is you—reassuring him, leaving a psychic imprint in his mind.

It’s both a blessing and a curse to share the same trauma. And even though you are sometimes harsh, restless and despairing—he is your weak spot, you love him in your own way.

"You can hold on to me as long as you want. Let go of the past, let go of the pain" you say, giving him permission, taking him into your flesh, a clear invitation to madness.

Emotions clamp down on his heart, but he stays terribly silent. Bucky says nothing after that, only your name, as if your name is not a name but a question. He shakes his head and kisses you, long and quiet.

He grabs your jaw in one hand forcing you to look at him, tears coursing down your cheeks as he thrusts into you, making low, growling noises in his throat—a predator purring with pleasure while it devours its prey, picking up a brutal pace once again. Your legs tighten around his waist, hooking over his hip bones as he practically folds you in half, nails digging into his back, surely breaking his skin with your manicured fingers.

He groans at the pain and removes your hands, intertwines his fingers with yours, pins your wrists flat to the mattress on either side of your head. He holds himself up over your body as he fucks into you, supporting his weight on his forearms. His cock is slamming into you, balls bouncing against your clit just right, the sight of his well-muscled body, covered in a thin layer of sweat, invites you to utter depravity, it is what drives you over the edge.

“You look so good taking all of me” he pants against your throat “I will fill you again-so good”

Hard, long, deep trust that forces moans out of both of you.

You whimper and nod dumbly, screw your eyes tight as another wave of pleasure spread throughout your body in orgasmic tingles as he pulls his own climax with you. He presses his face against your neck as his hips lose any and all sense of tempo and when he finally stills, he holds himself deep inside as he leans back—with every breath, your bust heaves, sweat droplets running between them and attracting his gaze.

It pollutes his mind even more, it cripples his morality, because he is infatuated with fucking you like this again—is it the pollen at this point? 

''Bear with me'' He murmurs, gritting his teeth ''I need…more” his cock slowly sliding out of your tight pussy before sliding back inside with equal slowness, sliding through copious amounts of thin lubrication and cum. Your legs wrap around his waist and prevent him from pulling out even if he wants to—your understanding, your willingness is a kind of ecstasy to him.

The blue moons in his eyes are glimmering with an emotion you can’t put your finger on. What is he thinking about?

A part of him cares about you.

But there’s a depravity in his mind right now that enjoys seeing you like this—your hair is in disarray, several tendrils scattered across your face and constricting your view of him, sweat pricks at your hairline and down your back. There is something unmistakably exultant in turning you into a mess—such a mess of cum and tears. Gently, he brushes the tendrils out of your face, tenderness in his touch—that’s the part of him that cares.

“I need you on the floor, on all fours” —that's the part of him that's deprived tonight.

You can feel the desire. The thirst. The absolute beast threatening to tear from his skin.

Soldat loved to fuck you against solid ground. He never truly left, sometimes Bucky is on the verge of cracking and showing the color of the thing beneath, but you don’t mind, you are not scared, you never were. 

All he wants is for you to be filled, marked, bruised from staying up all night, taking his cock into your body until you are depleted of all your strength. Even then, he will fuck you. He doesn’t say more, but he groans as he gets up—what a sinful twist of his lips, watching you slowly get up, your legs are incapable of supporting your weight much longer.

Your cunt hurts, too—you feel his cum dripping down your thighs, making yourself position in doggy style, legs winched apart, everything exposed to his view and he goes to stand on knees behind you, eagerly holding up his cock then he lines up your hole. He twists your hair around his fist and yanks your head back, at the same time thrusting into you from behind as his fingers slide to dig into your ass. 

Bucky grunts as he slams into you “Я без ума от тебя” (I'm mad about you) his balls slapping against the sensitive nub. You choke on your words, this angle allowing him in far deeper than before. You arch your back more and dig your nails into the floor, clawing at the dirty ground as he relentlessly pounds into you. Sweat drips down his neck as he watches himself entering and exiting you.

He grips your hips tightly, slamming into your snatch with ferocity. A wave of pleasure suddenly overwhelms you, and the tingling is growing stronger once more.

“Я предан тебе…ты моя девочка”(im devoted to you)...(You are my girl)

You can only mewl and gasp as you are rocked back and forth on your knees, losing your breath every time his cock hammers into your cunt. You clench around him when you hear your full name spoken in his gravelly tenor.

He molds his front to your back, spearing through your tightening pussy. He grabs your hair and snaps your head back roughly before it travels down around your throat and squeezes tight while his other palm splays across your stomach.

His lips rests on the back of your shoulder, hissing

“Очевидно, что , нас чувства друк к други” (You can’t deny what's between us)

He carries on rutting you like an animal. Your skin slapping together, your pussy squirting around his cock as it invades your snatch repeatedly, making suction squelching noises with every thrust in of his length. It keeps on hitting your cervix, your nubile breasts swing with the force of your body rocking—you know that you will be sore later.

"You fill my heart, I fill your cunt"

But his words strike every inside your body and his honesty brings the euphoria of complete surrender.

“Enough, stop, it is too much”

You plea and nearly asphyxiate on the words as your orgasm bursts upwards from your abused cunt. A sob wracks your throat and he continues thrusting, riding your orgasm until your entire body is convulsing and you are desperately trying to wiggle out of Bucky’s arms with the last of your strength, but it's not enough compared to the strength of his arms holding your hips with renewed vigor, determined to breed you.

You catch sight of him from your peripheral vision, his eyes closed, his lips are silent, but he chatters with his fingertips, with the way his hands grip your hips, fingers digging in, the way he fucks you. And you thought that he chose that position, because he was embarrassed, but he was not—he wanted to disguise from you how much he was enjoying himself.

You have the strength to kill him, but here you are—so obedient.

His little submissive.

His expression is dreamy, floating. Soaked in pleasure—breathless, possessed, lost in the volcanic eruptions of fever, lust and delight. Your pussy cradles around his dick as he pounds into you from behind.

“James” 

His name on your lips sooth a place deep inside him, and the urgent need to hear it in again pulses in his heart, making himself guilty of such a secret, he must perforce hold it—

—but he shamelessly let out a loud moan, he never felt so out of control. You are a disease worse than the pollen itself.

“Bucky” 

That makes him groan like an animal, noises coming out of him that you never heard before, he was never this vocal. The groans are desperate, endless, but the sound of his name is unspeakably erotic to him. He can’t get enough of this. He will die without it, without you.

“You look too pretty when you’re getting fucked like that” he blurts out, without even thinking.

There is already a fissure in his mind and madness just rushes through. Praising him puts him on edge, it’s something he never thought he wanted or needed. You wreak havoc on his life.

He squeezes his eyes shut—to utilize the entire spectrum of the other senses, moans of ecstasy crescendos and his breaths come in short instances, each with a slight pause in between as his body is rack with his orgasm, cum is flooding out of your cunt, dripping of you onto the hardwood floor and there is a charm about it that makes it unspeakably desirable for Bucky.

In this stillness, he finally finds serenity. 

All you want to do is crawl back beneath the mound blankets—he gently picks you up and you smile crookedly at him, something about your smile loosening a knot in his chest, because holding you in his arms is more natural to him than his own heartbeat.

Morning came in through the blinds cutting everything into ribbons, but the light can make the most vulgar things tolerable—you are aware of the aching hips, and your whole body hurts like hell as if you have been run over by a train.

Bucky steps out of the bathroom, freshly showered with a white towel around his lean hips. He takes a half step toward the bed, and his jaw works for a moment before he asks

“How are you feeling?”

“Tired, did you tell Sam what happened?”

“No, of course not. He is thankful that you helped us” He says and rakes his fingers through his damp hair, making it stand on end “He invited us to Louisiana”

You barely resists smiling at him “Okay”

He raises a brow “Just like that, okay?”

“If you give me my bracelet back”

You both look at the bracelet around his right hand. Then he bites his lip as he grins.

“Not happening” he says, his tone flattening and he can't help the smirk that tips up the corners of his mouth.

“Guess I need to buy a new one then” You peel back the covers, indicating for him to get in and you watch him climb next to you “With your name on it”

His palm reaches up to wrap around the back of your head, his fingers tangling in the depths of your hair, pulling you closer, his lips hovering over yours. Everything about him pleases you.

Not just his looks, but his patience and his kindness. He is an obsession waiting to happen. Kissing him is terrifying, breathing the same air makes your knees weak, a liquid sensation swooping throughout your stomach—but you've been betrayed, stabbed by every single person in your life, the body heals, but it injures the heart and the wound lasts a lifetime. You are scared of love, scared of these new feelings, scared of trusting anyone, but you are trying—that’s why you gently press a kiss to his mouth.

(Her kisses are deliberate and polished. When she kisses me—she doesn't want me. She has me and knows it.)

Bucky throws himself onto the couch next to Sam, slewing his eyes over to him.

"So you are sleeping and living together, but you are still not in a relationship?"

He takes a long sip of his drink when he hears the words, tips his head back against the couch, and decides he could…maybe live with that.

"Yeah"

Sam’s lips tighten to suppress a smile "That's a bit weird, Buck"

He chuckles, low under his breath "The part where I live with my ex-coworker or the part where we sleep together?"

James takes a deep breath, and Sam can see his blue eyes searching for his, like he is looking for an answer.

”Maybe it is what it's meant to be for now” A frown settles on Bucky’s face as he considers that “She has a lot to experience, too. If you pressure her with anything, you might lose her completely”

“I don't want to be in love, but she is making me, Sam” he sighs, a headache blooming right between his eyes. He rubs at the spot, stalling as he tries to figure out what he wants to say “But you are right, she needs to heal”

Several emotions swirl in Sam’s eyes. Worry, sadness, maybe even intrigue. But not judgment. Never. “Did she agree to go to Wakanda?”

He wets his dry lips and says the most basic truth:

“No, she is too untrustworthy, I can’t believe she even agreed to come here”

Sam sees it as hope—and he wants to put that light within his friend, too “But she did”

They can’t talk about it anymore, not when they hear you, Sarah and the kids coming back, and when your gazes meet, your soft smile and the look in your eyes, they are the best interpreter of your mind—you are truly happy, seeing you like that makes him feel like he can single-handedly vanquish an army.

He has outlasted all family, desires, dreams, his grief alone is left entire—sometimes visiting the lonely desolation of nightmares, they are gleamings of his empty heart—Bucky is a heap of ashes, but meeting you—kindled him back into fire.

Oh my goshhh thank you for reading! Hope you enjoyed this project!

More of this ex!Asset AU? - MASTERLIST

[airybcby]

Hi! Here for the More than a married couple (but not lovers) event. That's such a GREAT IDEA!! So sweet😭💖

The character I chose is Michael 🍓🍦

Also kudos to you for starting another event even though you're still writing asks! you're really spoiling us💕

i really enjoyed doing the last event, tysm!!

A Michael Kaiser Strawberry Sundae...

જ⁀♡⊹｡° every version of yourself

♡ a/n — for my more than a married couple event :)

♡ content — michael kaiser x gn! reader, gn! reader, set in a high school so no funny buisness, supposed to be kinda unrequited love?, kaiser's own insecurities, takes you through the length of the simulation, kaiser still plays soccer, kaiser in HS if he wasn't traumatized :))), still cocky though, an little flirty, nickname like 'spouse' used, popular! kaiser, quiet! shy! reader

♡ synopsis — being paired with michael kaiser may be the worst thing to ever happen to you...or so you think

The classroom buzzed with anticipation as the names were called out. Each pair announced felt like a small shockwave in the room, but the real chaos came when your name was read.

“And finally... Michael Kaiser and Y/N.”

The gasps, whispers, and sharp glares that followed made you shrink in your seat. Everyone’s eyes darted between you and the blonde at the back of the room, who leaned lazily against his chair, unfazed.

Kaiser didn’t even look your way. Typical. Why would he? Michael Kaiser wasn’t just a soccer prodigy; he was the center of attention everywhere he went. The school’s golden boy. The one every girl wanted to be paired with. And somehow... you, the average nobody, ended up in the simulation with him.

“Well,” Kaiser said finally, standing and giving a theatrical stretch. He smirked as if this was all a game, his piercing blue eyes sweeping over the room like he’d already won something. “Guess I’ll be seeing a lot more of you.”

Your cheeks burned as laughter rippled through the room. His tone was light, teasing, but it only made the pit in your stomach grow. How were you supposed to survive an entire month living with Michael Kaiser?

The simulation began with a flurry of paperwork and rules. You were handed a key to a mock apartment and a thick packet outlining tasks you’d need to complete as a "couple" to pass. Cooking meals together, managing a budget, planning dates—it all felt bizarre. But the strangest part? Being tied to Michael Kaiser for every waking moment.

The apartment itself was small but cozy. Two bedrooms flanked a shared living space, and the kitchenette barely fit two people at a time. You stood awkwardly by the door as Kaiser strolled in like he owned the place. He dropped his duffel bag on the couch and turned to you with that signature smirk.

“Well, spouse, welcome home,” he drawled, tossing his duffel onto the larger bedroom’s bed without hesitation. “Don’t worry, I won’t invade your room. You’ll have all the space you need to miss me.”

Your brow furrowed. “Pretty confident about claiming the bigger room.”

He shrugged with a grin. “Call it a perk of being me.”

Typical Kaiser. You rolled your eyes but didn’t push it further. How were you supposed to survive an entire month living with someone so… larger than life?

The first week was… manageable, mostly because Kaiser didn’t seem to take the simulation seriously. He’d breeze through tasks with minimal effort, brushing off your attempts at cooperation.

“Budgeting? Just write whatever, I don’t care,” he’d said with a shrug one afternoon.

“Kaiser, we lose points if we don’t do it properly,” you insisted, tapping the form with your pen.

He rolled his eyes but leaned over anyway, closer than necessary, close enough to where his musky cologne made it hard to think. He hummed as he glanced at the page. “Fine. Put down ‘caviar’ and ‘gold-encrusted steak.’ That’ll impress the evaluators.”

You glared at him, but he just laughed. It was infuriating, how easy everything seemed to him.

Still, there were glimpses of something more.

Like the time you cooked dinner together. It was one of the mandatory tasks, and Kaiser insisted on doing as little as possible—until you nearly sliced your hand while chopping vegetables.

“Careful!” He grabbed your wrist, his touch surprisingly gentle. For a moment, his usual bravado disappeared, replaced by something softer.

You were shocked, but not by his sudden loudness or his worry. No, you were shocked by watching the point value on your living room wall go up.

Oh so being a decent person and taking care of someone got you points? How silly...kind of.

“I’m fine,” you mumbled, pulling away.

“Yeah, well, try not to bleed all over the food. I’m not eating anything with extra seasoning,” he teased, smirking as he handed you a safer task.

And just like that, the moment was gone.

By the second week, you started to notice cracks in his perfect façade.

It happened late one night when you couldn’t sleep. You wandered into the living room to grab some water, only to find Kaiser sitting by the window, staring out at the city lights. His usual confident posture was gone, replaced by something almost… scared, like a child that's been missing their mother just a little too long.

“Couldn’t sleep either?” you asked hesitantly.

What were you doing? Yes, this project required interacting with each other, but you could have ignored him.

What was it about Michael Kaiser that made you act so...unlike yourself?

He didn’t answer right away, his profile illuminated by the faint glow of the streetlamps. Finally, he spoke. “Do you ever feel like people only see what they want to see?”

You blinked. “What do you mean?”

He glanced at you then, his blue eyes unreadable. “Forget it. Go back to bed.”

But you couldn’t forget it. The question lingered, and for the first time, you wondered if Michael Kaiser—the golden boy everyone adored—might be lonelier than he let on.

Things began to shift in the third week.

It was subtle at first. The way Kaiser’s teasing softened, the way he started helping more with the tasks instead of leaving everything to you. He even started calling you by your name instead of “spouse” or other mocking nicknames.

And then there were the moments where he’d look at you—not with the cocky smirk he wore like armor, but with something quieter, almost vulnerable.

You didn’t know what to make of it. You’d spent so long nursing your one-sided crush, convinced he’d never see you the way you saw him. And maybe he didn’t. Maybe you were imagining things.

But then came the final task: planning a “date night.”

You went all out, wanting to ace the simulation. You planned a picnic under the stars, complete with fairy lights and a playlist of soft, dreamy songs. Kaiser didn’t seem particularly invested at first, but when he saw the setup, his eyes lit up with genuine surprise.

“You did all this?” he asked, looking almost impressed.

You shrugged, trying to play it cool, but probably just looking like a dork who took this a little too seriously, “It’s for the grade.”

“Right,” he said, though his tone was softer than usual. And for a moment, Michael Kaiser looked truly upset by what you said...but why?

The night was quiet and peaceful, the two of you sitting side by side on the blanket. For once, Kaiser wasn’t filling the silence with jokes or teasing remarks. Instead, he turned to you, his expression uncharacteristically serious.

“You’re not what I expected,” he said suddenly.

You blinked. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I thought this whole thing would be a waste of time,” he admitted. “But… you’re different. You’re real.”

Your heart skipped a beat. “Michael…”

He smirked then, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Don’t look at me like that. You’ll give me the wrong idea.”

But maybe, just maybe, the idea wasn’t so wrong after all.

The final week of the simulation was a blur of evaluations and last-minute tasks, but something had shifted irrevocably between you and Kaiser. He wasn’t just the golden boy anymore. He was Michael—arrogant, infuriating, but also thoughtful and surprisingly kind in his own way.

On the last night in the apartment, you found yourself standing in the kitchen, packing up your things. Kaiser leaned against the counter, watching you with an unreadable expression.

“So, this is it, huh?” he said, his voice unusually quiet as he stared into the almost empty cabinet, only filled with the stupid matching couples cups he got after an argument that lost you two points in the first week.

“Yeah,” you said, not trusting yourself to say more. What else could you say? 'Oh Michael, I love you and expect you to marry me!'

You'd rather die than be shot down like that.

He hesitated, then reached out to tilt your chin up, forcing you to meet his gaze. “You know,” he said softly, “you’re kind of impossible to forget.”

Your breath hitched. “Michael—”

“Don’t,” he said, his smirk returning, though his eyes betrayed something deeper. “I’ll see you around, yeah?”

And just like that, he was gone.

Leaving those stupid cups behind.

Graduation loomed over you like a terrifying monster. It'd been a week since you'd spoken to Kaiser, both of you being too absorbed in your own lives. But you couldn’t shake the feeling that something had been left unsaid. Until one day, days later, you found a note slipped into your locker. It was short, written in Kaiser’s unmistakable scrawl:

"I wasn’t joking when I said you were impossible to forget. Let me prove it. Dinner?"

Your heart raced as you read the words. Maybe, just maybe, the idea wasn’t so wrong after all.

this was the first one i wrote for this event so i hope this layout is okay!

i hope you liked it!

likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated!