#stares at east/west

[ivyfluoresce]

YOOO...... You're so right, more episodes in S4 is probably a controversial idea, but it could've worked! I'm rewatching it rn and I just wish so bad that they had taken the time to make some of these characters more "relatable" (in the sense that we can connect to or at least understand their motivations past surface level, whether we agree w them or not -- Ray Stussy and Bear Gerhardt are good examples) bc the emotional stakes here are… Oof. I completely agree with you abt them killing people off toward the end. Obv Fargo can make absurd deaths work (RIP Ray Stussy), but I rolled my eyes hard at Gaetano's thing. He deserved way more thought than that for carrying so much of the season's tension. Re: biting off more than they could chew, luckily S4 has some great fics filling in the blanks and giving these characters the time they deserve <3

Anyway… You can tell how much Iove an imperfect piece of media by how badly I tear it to shreds. 💔 S4 will be the death of me.

Why is season four of Fargo so underrated I’m gonna scream you guys are so fucking boring.

[blackbackedjackal]

"Yeah, I'm not a GSD person (tm)." <- me when I lie

[sakuracyanide]

gestures at pgsm zoisite.

in this essay i will explain how pgsm zoisite switches the colors & coding of the direction he's associated with from north to east and why that is fascinating -

[sophfandoms53]

Feeds are probs gonna come back around 3 am

[oflgtfol]

anyway i lowkey wanna make a big masterpost and/or essay or whatever like as a handbook to night sky observing. not just in a like, here's how to identify constellations, but in the like. here's how to ground yourself here on earth and see the actual orbital configurations of our heliocentric solar system by simply observing planetary motions in the sky. and observe the fact that the earth is round by watching the motions of the seasonal constellations and draw some celestial sphere diagrams. etc

i'm like especially interested in archaeoastronomy lately because of these exercises in trying to generate an actual bodily intuition around astronomy beyond the math and programming that i learned in school, because it's like, this is the version of astronomy that existed for millennia upon millennia until technology advanced enough to make more complicated observations and conclusions. we literally only had our own eyes, bodies, and minds to puzzle it over for most of human history. and trying to recreate this in myself by teaching it to myself through brief stargazing sessions and many many sessions in stellarium in my free time is like, idk. really eye opening. it's one thing to be taught in school that yeah the earth is round and the sun is at the center of the solar system and there's other planets, and it's another thing to then do complicated math under those assumptions, and it's a different thing entirely when you actually then go outside and see with your own human eyes that those facts are true of the physical world you exist in. these aren't just abstract concepts but things that occupy the physical space that you live in

[artbyblastweave]

There's a question which the west coast Fallout games are quietly litigating, which is that age-old gotcha about what you do with the remaining orcs once you've deposed Sauron. In the original Fallout, the Super Mutants are basically universally aligned against the quote-unquote "good guys," for whatever value of that term is applicable to the wasteland at large, but subsequent games make it clear that this was an ideological thing, and a product of the political moment of the mutants creation rather than an ontological quality that they have. The game is very aware that this is something that was done to them, and the tragedy of that; the first mutant you're likely to run into is dying scared and alone.

Fallout 2 presents super mutants who've broken in every direction ideologically in the aftermath of the Unity's collapse; the peacemakers under Marcus at Broken Hills, Gond as a member of the abolitionist NCR rangers, reactionary remnants of the original mutant army, genocidal self-hating fascists like Frank Horrigan. Fallout: New Vegas iterates on this beautifully. The mutants dovetail perfectly with the theme of how every faction in the wasteland is trying and oftentimes failing to reckon with the weight of history. Their utopian movement imploded outside of living memory, closer to the apocalypse than to the present day. The survivors- who can only dwindle in number due to their sterility- have been left to reckon with that in whatever way they can. And they have their backs to about a hundred and twenty years of that reckoning not going particularly well, of being the bugbear and boogeymen for bullies and ideologues whose grandparents weren't even alive to suffer from the Unity's actions. The lack of a collective future for mutantkind casts a pall over even the best ending for Jacobstown; humans are collectively resilient within this setting, but through violence, and accidents, dementia and senility, the day will inevitably come when there are no mutants left. And worse still will be the day before that, when there's only one mutant left. Finding some form of satisfaction or contentment within that dwindling window, with the world against you, is a task that falls to the individual mutant. (Take Mean Sonovabitch, for example. He seems to be doing alright for himself.)

Then we slide on over to the east coast games, where the mutants are.... morons. Cannibals. Marauders. And when you meet one who isn't, the game throws itself a ticker-tape parade for containing such an audacious twist. To go back to the orc thing, it's like if The Hobbit had contained a lengthy, empathetic subplot about the rich internality and fleshed-out-if-deeply-flawed ideology of the orcs, and then there was a pivot to treating them like a monolithic block of ontologically evil marauders in LOTR. While staring you straight in the eye the whole time, unblinking. Daring you to say something

[lifetimeoftired]

How to adopt a dead kid in three weeks or less

It's midnight and I'm hopped up on that ADHD juice. Been thinking on and off about this prompt and how things play out. Might clean this up for ao3 posting later but whatever.

Part 1 || Part 2

____

Danny can feel the weight of their stares like it’s physical. A last mournful glance at his pancakes- Actually no, fuck it. He grabs the last one from his plate, flashes the whole Wayne family a peace sign, and turns invisible. The pancake is eaten as he dashes out the door and away from the shouting and chaos he leaves the family in.

 -

“Where the FUCK did he go!?” Jason’s shout somehow made it above the din of the others- and got Bruce and Dick yelling ‘language’ back at him. The pricks.

“I say! Watch your tone Master Jason! As for the rest of you-” The whole family shut the immediate fuck up when Alfred speaks. His displeased expression more than enough to cow them into submission. “I expect you to clean up after yourselves today and a quiet trip to the batcave to find our new ward. Master Jason, you will be taking care of Master Danny’s plates, and I will hear of an apology from you for scaring that poor boy.”

There’s a chorus of ‘yes Alfred’ from the chastised bats, but Bruce- carefully mind you- presses.

“Alfred, how long has he been here? Why didn’t you say anything?”

“The young master has been staying for the past three weeks sir. And despite my best attempts, I have not yet been able to convince him to sleep in his own room.”

Bruce groans and rubs at his face before turning back to his other children, “Nobody thought to tell me!?”

The kids all look at each other, and then back at him with the most judgmental ‘are you serious’ looks they can muster. Except Cassandra, who very excitedly signs; New brother! All Bruce can do is sigh into his hands.

“We’ll discuss this later-”

“Why didn’t you notice then old man?” Jason grins, a little feral at Bruce’s dirty look but sue him.

“Okay okay, let’s hurry up and get this place cleaned up. There’s no telling how far Danny got- and the sooner we go after him the sooner we figure out what’s going on.” Dick said, quickly gathering his own plate. 

“And the sooner I can get all of you presents.” The entire family stops. Staring at Jason in shock. “Only the finest ‘World’s best detective’ mugs for all of you!” 

The groan he gets from all of them is perfect.

-

“I cannot believe you didn’t think to tell me either!” Batman scolds Oracle later. 

Everyone is out in force. Even Batwoman, Batwing, and Bluebird (after having a good laugh at Batman’s expense) had joined. They had all been searching for Danny the better part of the day. Batman had even agreed to let Red Robin and Robin join the search and skip school. That’s how seriously the kids knew he was taking this. And how important it was for one of them to get to Danny before Batman scared him off for good with his infamous paranoia.

“If you didn’t notice, that one’s on you Batman.” God Jason really loved Barbara sometimes. 

“Oracle would not have allowed a dangerous individual into our midst. She is thorough when it comes to such things.” Robin is moving fast, probably swinging right behind Batman. No doubt headed east where the nicer areas were and any sane person was bound to head.

“I think that’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me, baby bat.”

“O, you wouldn’t happen to have a new update on Danny’s whereabouts would you? Or anything from his past?” Nightwing cuts in after Robin’s little ‘Tt’. He’s somewhere near the border to Bludhaven, in case Danny’s making it out that way.

“Nothing Nightwing.” They can hear her frustration, and concern, through the voice modulator. “The kid’s practically a ghost. All I can tell you is that he’s not from Gotham. What little I can find of his time here in Gotham is some security feeds of dumpster diving and sleeping on a bench.”

“He’s also definitely a meta.” Signal mutters, somewhere to the west and near the coast..

Jason remains quiet and lets them all talk. As funny as it is- and holy shit Jason will never let any of them live this down ever- it is a little strange this random kid would just... Show up out of nowhere. Meta or not. Alfred said he wouldn’t sleep in a bed of his own, but he also hadn’t left until after Jason questioned his existence. This ‘Danny’ had been around the manor, the bats coming and going, for weeks. He could’ve found out their secrets, and even if he hadn’t sold them out yet, there’s no telling who might pick him up and drag those secrets out of him. Or worse, if he was sent here by someone, then they needed to find out who. And fast…

….

Ugh. He sounded like Batman.

“Hey guys, how well do you even know Danny?” Jason pulls over near an abandoned apartment building. Cutting the engine to his bike to hear them all better. “He was there for a few weeks, pick up anything on him? Might help us figure out where he ran off to.” That last bit was added as an afterthought, not wanting to be too paranoid, but it was also true.

“I know how this is going to sound, but uh, well, he does seem really nice actually.” Signal helpfully offers. “Dick and I ran into Danny I think not long after he got there?”

“O’s camera feed tells us Danny arrived at the manor 28 days ago, Thursday night 11:38 PM. Looking at the records, he was picked up prior to that in front of Wayne Enterprises by one of our drivers- Archer Tenson. He’s reliable and honest, no record of any sort that would make him a suspect of subterfuge.” Nightwing rattles off the information pretty calmly, but they all know him well enough to hear the concern. “According to the records, he was going to pick up the caffeine addict after the cafe got an alert of his fourth Death Latte-” They all ignored Red Robin’s little ‘hey!’, “-and dropped him off safely at home.”

“Red Robin.” Batman’s parental disapproval was palpable through the comms. 

“There wasn’t a fourth Death Latte!” Red Robin protested from his place in the batcave. Aiding in the digital search and combing over the camera feeds over the past few weeks for any information about Danny. “The third Death Latte was the last one. An Alert at W.E. was the plan the whole night. Nobody made it back to the manor until sunrise and the cafe kept saying there wasn’t any more coffee and-!” He gasped, horrified! Outraged! And the rest were left to hold their snickers as Red Robin said, “He stole my last coffee!”

“That’s right, Danny said he was a caffeine addict too.” Batwing mused. Probably flying somewhere over the more open suburbia in case Danny was trying to make a break out of the city that way.

“Wait when did you meet Danny?” Spoiler asked- Jason knew she was patrolling nearby with Bluebird. Those two, Orphan and Signal were the only ones who were allowed to come close to Crime Alley. Mainly because they annoyed Jason the least, but also because they understood how bad the streets could get and looked the other way better than the others. Signal surprised him about that one.

“Start from the beginning.” Batman orders. “Nightwing, Signal, you met Danny when?”

“Looking back, it was actually the day after he got there it sounds like.” Signal sighs. “I was headed downstairs for breakfast, and saw Dick in one of the sitting rooms. I thought I saw our caffeine addict passed out on the couch and thought dick was going to wake him, so I went in to help…”

[ceilidho]

I’ve been watching Spartacus with my dad and I must share with you the vision I had.

Gladiator 141 and the sweet little thing they got as a reward after a fight well fought.

this is very old:

Sometimes he spends as much as an hour staring at you through the bars of your cell. 

You haven’t yet worked up the nerve to say something to him. Not while he still wears the silver-plated galea that obscures most of his face. You can still see thin lips through the middle slit of his helmet, where the cheek plates don’t meet and the thin strip running down the bridge of his nose gives way to his philtrum, and the barest slivers of dark eyes. 

Apart from his helmet, he wears little else—sometimes the customary leather pteruge around his waist or a simple tunic belted at the waist. Nothing that would hinder his movements. It keeps the bulk of him on display. A prized fighter then, you surmise, as if the helmet weren’t enough to make that known. 

He still gleams bronze from his fights under the sun. Perhaps he’s counted at least a full hand’s worth this week alone. He comes to you sometimes after those very fights, still dripping sweat and prowling the length of your cell like one of the lions kept beneath the arena. You never know what to say to him then. There’s little you can do apart from curl up into yourself in the far corner of this cell you’ve come to know as a temporary home and eye him warily. 

It’s hard to reckon with the size of him. That’s what keeps you wary, watchful of him when he comes to keep you company for reasons unbeknownst to you. He hasn’t made them known yet, in any case. 

There isn’t an augur to warn you the day he chooses to speak. 

“Where'd they take you from, pretty bird?”

You flinch at the sound of his voice. It comes from the pure depths of him, Tartarus deep. You think it would take nine days for it to reach you, like a bronze anvil falling alongside it. In the days that he’s spent at your side, haunting the length of your cell like a sentry bound to his post, you’ve never once heard so much as a whisper.

His words take a moment to register. Across from you, he sits back on his haunches, thick thighs bunched up under the fan of his pteruge. It’s hard to tell how long he’s been there—the hallway outside your cell is relatively dark, the only windows being on the leftmost side of the building, near the door where he must have quietly slipped in. 

“East of here,” you answer hesitantly.

He hums, nods his head. Ruminates on your words. 

In truth, you can only guess—the village where you grew up, where you suckled at your mother’s teat and played with the other children in the glen surrounded by mountains jutting up from the earth and ochre yellow and green wildgrass, the fog sometimes sitting so low in the valley that you could lose yourself in it, is far from here. At least a month’s walk, perhaps more (you lost time along the way). Your feet are still blistered from the march back to Rome, legs still covered in sores and bruises; even now your cell is a poor comfort, the dirt floors harsh on your knees and shins, abrasive to the partially healed skin of your feet. 

You’ve never been very worldly though, never known more than the four walls around your bed. Perhaps the walk wasn’t nearly as long, as treacherous; maybe you came from the west instead, or the south. You can only guess. 

“I came from the north,” he says, breaking the silence again. That startles you somehow. The thought of him under the thumb of another feels inexplicably gut-wrenching; if a man with a virile, sweat-laden chest like his, arms corded with muscle that yours will never see in a thousand years, has been yoked to Rome’s chariot, what hope do you have? 

You wonder for a moment if he’ll tell you more, but he falls silent after that simple revelation. The weight of his gaze still pins you in place.

“…You’re a prisoner then?” you ask, considering briefly whether to say like I, before discarding the thought. Like I, like me. Are you too in a cage, like me?

It’s difficult to suppress the urge to ask him more, but you do. It does you no good to endear yourself to men that move and stare like beasts. There’s something malignant in him, you think, a rot burrowed in deep. You can feel it stir in you too when your eyes dip too low, halted by the muscles of his thighs and the thick slabs packing his arms. You’ve seen beasts copulate; you imagine he’d be much the same. 

He tilts his head, considering your words. Wolf-like, and you’ve seen wolves before. Though the ever-present helmet obstructs most of his face, the sharpness of his eyes pierces through. “They don’t put me in a cage anymore. What would you call that?”

Your chest collapses under his words. Hopes dashed. Does he go in the cage of his own accord then? Does he lock the door himself, deliver the key to the guard standing watch? You think people taken from their homes should see their plight in each other, but the gladiator before you doesn’t look at you like the two of you share a fate. 

“A slave?” you postulate, perhaps too boldly. Worry crawls inside the walls of your belly when his lips flatten, almost imperceptibly.

“Do I look like a slave to you?” he asks, and you can hear it this time. A gentle warning. A rebuke. A question that tells you all that you need to know about this man and how he sees the two of you. 

You remain silent, cowed under his stare and the tone of his voice. Perhaps he’s right, in a way; he’s not the one in the cage. He seems free to come and go as he pleases, his movements unrestricted. Unlike your own. You’ve hardly left this cell once since a faction of the legionaries left you at the gates of the city to be handled by those in charge, watching slave after slave made empticii, helpless, until finally you were dragged to the stand for viewing. 

You flinch when he grabs one of the bars of your cell, thick fingers coiling around the metal and overlapping easily. 

“What did they take you for, pretty bird?” His fingers tighten around the bar, knuckles whitening. “Every day I fight and yet they never offer you as a prize.”

The new scars on his body make sense then, fresh lacerations across his arms and legs that have multiplied by the days since he started visiting you. Why he gleams with fresh sweat every day, correlating with the fights you hear in the arena above you, the cacophonous chants and stamping feet. You can imagine him in front of a crowd frothing at the mouth for blood and gore. 

He comes stained in it sometimes. You hold your breath until he leaves on those days, reminded too much of your village in the aftermath of the plundering. 

“I don’t know,” you whisper, tucking your legs into your chest and trying to get as close to the wall behind you as possible. 

It’s the truth. No one tells you anything. No one told you what would happen when they ransacked your village and burnt it to ash, the bodies of everyone you’ve ever loved still burning char black in the tall grass, whittled down by the flames. No one told you what would happen after they dragged you back a thousand passus to a city scorched in white marble and stone and immaculate gold. They dragged you here and shut the door. 

He seems frustrated at your words, lips thinning like he has to hold back his rage.

“I’ll slaughter a hundred more if that’s your price,” he says, his helmet knocking into the bars with a rough clang and making you jump when he leans in. His chest lifts with his quickened breaths, working himself up at the thought of more bloodshed. “Then give you their hearts. No other man will take you. I’ll rend their limbs if another man tries. Make you taste their blood on my fingers and lap it up when I split you on my—”

Your heel skitters across the ground, digging a small groove into the dirt and scattering small rocks across the cell. “I don’t k-know what they intend—”

You stare at him when he rises back up to his feet, words dying on your tongue. Standing, he towers over you, shoulders rolling back to puff out his chest. 

“You wait, little bird. Flutter your wings. Soon you’ll see the sun.”

You can only imagine what he means. The thought of sunlight on your face fills you with dread for the first time in your life. 

He leaves without another word, heavy footsteps carrying him to the door until you hear him pry it open, sunlight streaming in for a second before it slams shut. The silence in the absence of him feels monstrous, gargantuan. 

All you can do is let out a shuddering breath.

[bet-on-me-13]

Wes ruins everything

Wes had finally done it, he had finally realized why nobody ever belived him about Fenton and Phantom! It made so much sense now, he had been looking for an answer for years, thinking he was going crazy because everybody refused to see the Obvious!

He was Cursed!

He literally had an Ancestoral Curse on his Bloodline that made it so that all those born with the gift of Prophecy would be ignored! A Gift of Prophecy that he apparently had.

It was Cassandra's Curse, the one from Greek Myths. Apparently she was his Great×1000 Grandmother and passed down the Gift (and Curse) of Prophecy to him. And he knew how to break it!

All he needed to do was gather the right resources, chant the correct incantations, make sure not to accidentally summon a Demon in the process, and he could just foist the Curse onto some other poor schmuck. Sure it would suck for them, and he would loose his Gift of Prophecy, but Wes had been ignored for Years at this point, he needed validation!

So he did the Ritual, and he didn't mess it up, and he managed to get rid of the Curse.

Now all he had to do was convince everybody that he was right for the first time in his life! This was going to be great!

...

Cass didn't know what was going on.

A while ago, she had started getting these...gut feelings that she couldn't explain.

She would look over the details of a Case her Family was working on, and see a patern that the others were seemingly ignoring. Like when she realized that The Penguin was about to raid the Docks on the East Side, but the others were convinced it was going to be on the West.

But when she had tried to tell them, they had brushed her off. "We've already concluded that he will begin the Raid on the West side, no need to go to the East."

She had gone anyways, and low and behold she had been right. But nobody even acknowledged that she had been right at all, they had just wondered how they had missed the signs, not even questioning how she had known.

It wasn't limited to Cases either. Even small things, like telling her brother's where the TV remote was were brushed off, and hours later they would still be looking, never even having checked where she told them.

It seemed that no matter what, nobody cared about her point of view anymore. They kept brushing her off, telling her she was wrong, actively ignoring her ideas.

And it was getting worse. They were starting to ignore her more and more, forgetting she was in the room, not calling her down for Dinner, even forgetting to check in on her during Patrol.

She knew that there must be something going on, Magical or otherwise, but when she tried bringing it up with her Dad or JLD, they would also Brush her off.

Her Family was forgetting her. And they didn't even realize it.

...

Danny was not okay at the moment.

When he had gone to school a few weeks ago and noticed everybody staring at him, he didn't give it much thought. Maybe Dash or Paulina had spread another Rumor about him again, not too out of the ordinary.

When his name had been called over the Intercom, he hadn't thought much of that either. His grades were falling even more than usual, so he assumed his Guidance Counselor wanted to have another talk with him.

When he walked into the Principals Office to see both of his Parents and some GIW Agents, that's when he realized something big must have happened.

He didn't have much of a chance to react when the Shields went up, but he did react when the first Ecto-Blast scorched the wall behind him. His Parents began to scream at him as they fired their Blasters, something about replacing somebody? He didn't know, he was pretty preoccupied at the moment.

It took more effort than he cared to admit to escape the Room, but a stray shot to the hidden Shield Projector under the Principals Desk proved to be his saving grace. Unfortunately the moment he escaped the Office, he was met with a veritable Army of GIW Agents, all armed to the Teeth with Weapons he had never even seen before.

He managed to get away for a moment, hiding in the Bathroom as the Agents chasing him passed it by. That's when he met Wes.

He obviously hadn't been expecting him, but the moment he saw him Wes put on a smug look. "Oh hi Fenton, trying to get away from the other students?"

Danny had replied with confusion, "What the hell are you talking about?!"

"I finally managed to convince everybody about you, now everyone knows that you're Phantom! I'll bet you're hiding from all of the other Students hounding you for questions right?"

"...it was you?"

"Yeah, so? I finally get to be right!"

"...You absolute MORON-"

That was the last Danny got to say to Wes before an Ecto-Blast launched him through a Wall, seeing his face morph into a look of Shock just before the dust cloud covered it up.

Since that day, Danny had been on the Run. Nowhere was safe anymore now that the GIW knew both his Human and Ghost's faces, but he had to keep running. He crossed state Lines already, and was on his way to the next Ecto-Rich City he could sense, somewhere in New Jersey.

He cursed his Fenton Luck every day. Why had everybody believed Wes this time?! Nobody had ever belived him before, nobody even seemed to acknowledge his existence after a while! What had changed?

Danny just wanted to rest already.

...

Cass had taken to Patrolling alone recently. She had taken to doing a lot of things alone, actually.

After the first month, it seemed that nobody could remember that she was in the room with them, even if she was within their eyeline, she just faded into the background. By the 2 Month Mark they had stopped talking to her entirely, although occasionally she would get a Text or two from her dad. By the 3 month Mark she was completely invisible, and By the 5th she had been forced to get used to it.

She didn't know what was going on, was it a Meta Ability? Magic? Alien Tech? She had no idea.

She had begun to cook for herself after the first time Alfred forgot to set her Plate at the Table. The same with Washing her own Clothes, Cleaning her Room, and Paying her Phone Bills. At the very least the Automated Allowance Payments to her Account had kept up, or she wouldn't have been able to go to her favorite Cafe anymore.

It was bittersweet for her. She used to go to that Cafe every week with Alfred, but he didn't even come on his own anymore. Had he only come for her? Did she really mean that much to them? It hurt, she finally had a family that cared for her and suddenly she didn't exist to them.

She sat alone at a Table, ignored by everyone in the Cafe as usual, when a new face walked in. He looked about her age, a little roughed up, walking with a sort of cautious gaint, as if he was scared of something. His Body Language seemed to agree with her assessment, as his body practically screamed "Worry" in its movements.

Cass stopped watching at that point. Just another Gotham Teen, probably worried over something like getting not having enough money or getting mugged on the way home. It was a Common sight in Gotham.

She attention was pricked again for a moment when she heard a voice speak up. "Uh, can I sit here?"

She ignored it, he wasn't talking to her.

"Um, excuse me? Miss? Could I sit here?" He repeated.

She ignored him again, he wasn't talking to her. Nobody talked to her.

"Hello? Do you have Earbuds in?" He said, and he waved his hand in front of her face.

Her face. He waved his hand. In front of Her Face.

He was talking to her.

She looked up at him sharply, seeming to startle him for a moment before he asked, "So, is that a no?"

"You can see me?" She asked.

He looked a bit bewildered, but replied "Uh, yeah? Why would I not? Are you...a Ghost?". That last part sounded a bit suspicious.

"No. Not a Ghost. But nobody sees me. Ever. Nobody remembers me." She replied. She had never spoken this much to anybody outside of her Family, but in the past few weeks she had been starved for interaction.

He seemed slightly interested, and sat down at her table. He looked her in the eyes, and said "Do you...talk about it?"

She smiled. He could see her.

[strawburry01]

She Blinded Me With Science

Summary: You and your college bestie Ford go hunt for the Mothman

AN: 2.6k words, there's some flirty friendship moments

Part 2

Hope you enjoy :)

“Forddddd!” you shouted as you slammed at his unfortunately closed dormitory door, “open up Pines I know you’re in there you haven’t left all day!” you continued as you kept knocking louder.

“For god's sake how do you know that?” his muffled voice came through the door.

“Your desk light has been on all night and all day you dork, I know you’re neurotic about turning that light off!” you huffed as you finally stopped knocking. You heard some shuffling of books and chair legs on the ground as Ford eventually opened the door a crack. For supposedly having the nicest dorms in the east coast, you and Ford were both guilty of turning your respective rooms into chaotic mixes of museum, library, archive, and photo studio, in your case. You could see the precarious stacks of textbooks and notebooks behind Ford’s bespeckled face. He looks like he didn’t sleep last night, evidenced by his glasses at a slant and his brown hair mussed up around his forehead.

“Can I…come in?” you asked as you attempted to poke your head in closer, which caused Ford to nearly shut the door in your face. The two of you had met in your first week of university, both sitting in the back of the Physics 101 class, noticing halfway through the class that you were both muttering the correct answers under your breath. Since that class, you had both been the closest of both study partners, and friends. With you being the charming talker, and Ford being the logical brains, you had both moved up the ranks in Backupsmore University. On a drunken night at the end of the first year you’d both revealed to each other that this was never your first choice. For Ford, his project to get taken in by West Tech was sabotaged, keeping him on the east coast. For you, your family couldn’t afford anything else. With 3 younger siblings you knew that your needs were met, but you also had to compromise on a lot of things- for the rest of the family. Ford kept a lot of his own family secretive, only mentioning in the middle of a spring break trip to Canada that he had an identical twin brother which nearly caused you to flip the kayak you were both in. But you were never one to push Ford too far out of his comfort zone. You recognized he was a private person, but also an incredibly bright and witty person. Someone you really liked hanging out with and spending time around. 

“No!” Ford said, “I mean uhm…what do you want?” he corrected himself, still keeping the door only open a sliver. You raised your eyebrow and leaned against the doorway yourself. He was hiding something, and poorly.

“Is there a girl in there Ford?” you whispered with a smirk, knowing there’s no shot in hell it would be the case. His face turned red as he shut the door and unchained the locks before swinging it open fully. You knew he rarely ever hung out with other people, aside from his Dungeons, Dungeons, and More Dungeons gaming group and fellow student Fiddleford. 

“No, no females in here, just a damn letter,” he sighed as he ran his hand through his hair as he turned, “it’s the grant letter,” he said as he pointed to it on his desk. You stepped in and sure enough, his desk was somehow cleared, most of the mess being moved to his bed now, with a white envelope addressed to him. 

Stanford Pines, Room 313, Backupsmore University.

“Well shit have you opened it?” you asked, standing besides him as you both stared at the envelope. He applied for a large grant for research months ago, and after tedious interview after interview, this could be it.

“No, I can’t bring myself to. It’s Schrodinger's envelope. Until I open it I could’ve won it or not. I can’t do it. I can’t face the certainty of opening it- either one,” he sighed as he pinched his glasses on his nose, going through the same logic he’d been grappling with for the past hours.

You slowly nodded. He wound himself up like this often. Paralyzed with choice. You personally were the type to make a choice and force it to be the right one- somehow make it correct or at least work out for you. Ford on the other hand needed to know that it was going to be the right one from the beginning. Once again, the logical one.

What had worked before though was you distracting him. Getting him out of his head. Or at least his room.

“Want to check out Point Pleasant? Been reports of some unusual behavior from there recently,” you mused, breaking the silence. You could practically hear the gears in his head turning. “My camcorder’s all charged, I just need your car,” you grinned at him. He couldn’t help but let out a chuckle as he sighed.

“Okay, okay, fine,” he said as he took one last look at the envelope before grabbing his coat and keys. You silently pumped your fist as you fished your camcorder out of your bag. It was covered in random stickers you’d gotten over the years of owning it, from fruit stickers, to band stickers.

There was another thing that brought you and Ford together. An affinity for the unexplained and weird. It had always piqued your interest since you were a child living in the forest, seeing things that practical textbook science couldn’t explain and going headfirst into the unknown. Ford grew to share your passion for this after getting his skepticism proved wrong after tagging along for a few of your drives out to cryptid and weirdness hotspots. Bigfoots, ghosts, aliens, fairies, you’d hear a rumor and you’d grab your camcorder to go check it out yourself. Ford himself realized that he’d been viewed as something different in his own life having six fingers on each hand. The way that you got so excited and enamored with weirdness though made him feel less self conscious about his own quirks. You thrived on the unexplainable, and it eventually began to rub off on him. He could explain most equations and experiments, but he loved the challenge of not knowing how to explain something, which he seemed to always find when he followed you. 

You slid into the familiar passenger seat of Ford’s red 1960 Popular 100E, which was a little car that suited his personality well. He began the engine as you instinctively began flicking through radio channels trying to find some good music. 

The sun was starting to set which was turning the sky a pinkish yellow hue. You turned your camcorder to the sky and started filming.

“Tonight I come to you with a breaking case joined again by my dearest companion Ford Pines,” you begin as you dramatically squirm in your seat to zoom in on Ford’s face who blushes and laughs, but doesn’t take his eyes off the road. He prided himself on his safe driving, which often bored you. “Let’s take a step back my friends into a time before humans, a time before these roads meant anything, a time of empty forest and beautiful lands untouched by buildings,” you continued as you turned back to the sunset, “imagine soaring above this beautiful area one day and then BAM!” you shouted, twisting back to Ford trying to catch him off guard. No luck though. “A billboard! A damn city has popped up in your turf! Where you were just chilling one day. Unbelievable,” you sighed as you turned back to the now darkening sky. “That my friends is the story of today’s search, the elusive and illustrious Mothman,” you said, which caused Ford to scoff,

“You’re kidding me Y/N, Mothman?”. You stopped your recording and put your camcorder back down. 

“You’ve already started driving, it's too late to turn back now,” you hummed as you went back to clicking through channels, “just trust me Ford I’ve never let you down,”. 

The two of you kept driving into the night, discussing recent classes and homework, and you trying to fill Ford in on recent gossip. The car rolled into Point Pleasant around 1:32 am, which is where you sat up again and turned on your screen. Slowly directing Ford down an overgrown path outside of town. Stopped by a closed gate warning to turn back you grinned maniacally as you jumped out the car practically before Ford could stop it. You climbed over the gate with Ford trailing behind you, muttering about tetanus and safety. 

“We start here, on an abandoned road,” you said as you panned around the forest “where this Mothman has been reported to be seen earlier this week,” you continued, “once again with my trusty partner Ford,” you added zooming in and out on Ford who was crouched down looking at the mud.

“Seems fresh,” he said as he pointed to a large claw prints on the ground, with what looked like a walking pattern of a human. Ford pulled out his notebook, which was a precariously put together collection of notes and drawings he started once he started going out on these adventures with you. You had your camcorder, and he had his notebook. It was a spiral notebook you’d gotten for him after getting tired of seeing him lose his sketches he’d done earlier on napkins, although the amount of wear and tear it got was already causing the spiral part of it to get stuck in some spots.

You zoomed in on the footprints and kept your camcorder down as you followed them farther and farther until you felt a strong gust of wind. You slowly brought your camcorder up to a tree in front of you, where a pair of glowing red eyes looked back down at you.

“Whoah,” you said softly as you marveled at the size of the creature in the tree as your saw the 7 foot feathered? furry? thing sitting in the branch, staring back down at you. You kept your camcorder and eyes on the creature, bewildered as you felt two familiar hands on your hips slowly pulling you back.

“Y/N we gotta go,” Ford whispered in your ear as he kept trying to scoot you back.

“Ford wait-” you protested as you tried to shoo him, which only tightened his hold and urgency.

“Y/N this thing does not play friendly,” he urged again, grabbing your head and forcing it to the pile of deer and other forest animal skeletons nearby that you had missed before. To seal the deal the two of you both heard the creak of the branch and flapping of wings as the Mothman jumped off the perch. 

Very quickly you grabbed Ford’s hand as the two of you began hauling ass back to his car, knowing it would supply a little bit of safety from the claws of the creature. Above there was a screech similar to a bird as you both dove into the car with you flopping on top of Ford as he started to fumble for his keys and scooting to the drivers seat. 

“A show folks! We have a show!” you shouted to the camcorder as you tried to get a view of the Mothman through the window, “we’ve discovered that our Mothman friend is NOT a vegetarian I fear!”. Ford frantically started the car and began reversing back the way the two of you had come. 

There was a loud thump onto the top of the car as you both looked at each other. It was on top of the car. Shit.

Ford continued trying to reverse down the overgrown trail as you resorted to honking the horn for him to try and get the Mothman off the top of the car. The car jolted as the Mothman jumped off the car, letting the both of you take a breath as you rejoined the paved road. 

“Damn that was crazy!” you said as Ford turned the car back into the road. He opened his mouth to respond but was interrupted by both of your screams as the behemoth of the Mothman slammed down onto the hood of the car, metal screeching beneath the claws as it gripped on. 

“YOU SPOKE TOO SOON!” Ford shouted as he attempted to honk the horn, which only seemed to peeve the creature off more as it attempted to hit the windshield. You fumbled with your camcorder once again trying to film this scene as Ford continued to let out a string of curses. 

“Try and throw him off!” you shouted as you grabbed the side of the wheel and yanked it right, very grateful nobody else was on the road. The Mothman certainly wasn’t expecting it as it lost its balance careening off the side before Ford narrowly dodged it to not run it over. He pressed the accelerator all the way down as he tried to put as much distance between the car and the temporarily stunned Mothman.

You were out of breath as you laid your head back onto the seat, taking in the avoided danger. Grateful it wasn’t any worse. The tinny of the radio was the only noise in the car as the two of you stared at the mangled hood of the car.

“Ford I’m-”

“I got the grant,” he said before you could apologize, “I got the full 100 thousand dollars,”. You punched his shoulder excitedly.

“STANFORD PINES!” you shouted as you continued to hit his arm which made him grin and look over at you, “HELL YEAH YOU DID!”. You were overjoyed for your friend. He was the hardest working student and person you knew and truly deserved the cash to make his dreams happen. “I can’t believe you opened it! You had me going! Why didn’t you tell me?” you asked as you settled back down. He shrugged,

“I don’t know- I couldn’t think of how to tell you. I opened it at midnight last night and I’ve been trying to think of how to since then-” he said, “You’ve done so much to help me get it and- I just needed to do it justice,” he sighed. 

You gripped his arm again and gently shook it,

“I’m so fucking happy for you Ford this is going to change everything!” you smiled, “what are you going to do with it all?” you asked.

He let out a sigh, “I want to do this. Full time,” he said, “There’s a place, in Oregon, over in the Pacific Northwest- there’s something supernatural happening there based on my research and I there’s some land available already,” he continued, “I want to make a lab, a honest research lab, to do this sort of cryptid, oddities, weirdness hunting full time,”. 

The car was silent as he sat with himself.

“Damn that was the first time I’ve really said it out loud,” he laughed nervously as he rubbed the back of his neck.

“I think that sounds great Ford,” you nodded with a smile as you continued to gently rub his arm to make him feel a little better.

“But I need you there,” he said, confidently, “You got me hooked on this stuff, and you have a real knack for it. It’s only right if you come with,”. 

“I would be honored, Ford are you kidding me!?” you said excitedly as you squeezed his hand quickly on the wheel.

“It’s going to be really messy, and I don’t know how I’m going to move everything, but I need you to be there with me to make this work,” he said with a firm nod.

“And I’ll be there,” you nodded back as you sat back into your seat, looking back out at the dark road. You couldn’t help but feel giddy at the future Ford had just invited you to.

[razistoricharka]

Very interesting + concise article, pertinent with how much I've seen the joke about that "sadness in his eyes you only see in east european gay porn". Warning for pretty much everything you can expect.

Describing the wave of Eastern European gay pornography that flooded the US market following the dissolution of the USSR, Jones said: “They were products of a crude imperialist enterprise: cheap and nasty looking, with an atmosphere of coercion and cultural misunderstanding pervading them. Customers adored these videos, and expressed their breathless admiration whenever given the chance”

It gets pretty rough from here onward.

The Fall… opens with a short clip of a young man in profile, undressing. He looks uncomfortable, alternating between staring forward and glancing in the direction of the camera, his eyes showing a mix of discomfort and contempt. Jones’ voiceover states: “even in an unlikely place, it is possible to find traces of recent history” followed by b-roll taken from the aforementioned porn films including maps of the former USSR, market scenes, beggars and street footage. Their purpose in the aforementioned films appears to be part exoticism and part poverty fetishism, attempting to show the former glory of the Eastern nations as an emphasis on their subsequent fall. They’re an essential part of the set-up, speaking directly to what made this genre of pornography appealing to a western, primarily American, market. It’s easy to comprehend the mixture of exploitation and exoticism that made these videos popular in the US, but Jones goes further, aiming to establish a firm link between the booming Western economy and a more global, less visible form of exploitation.

The latter half of the film compounds the atmosphere of coercion, focusing specifically on the casting and screen tests of performers. The voice from behind the camera probes the subject on their sexual preferences, their motivations for being filmed: “I’m doing it for the money” “That’s a very good reason” Western audiences were turned on by the idea that the performers were under some form of duress—the ostensibly straight man either consuming their sexuality through the guise of pornography, or in the case of several scenes, the performer showing visible discomfort at either the sex or the presence of the camera. The films are low budget, low production value and low brow—by intention, rather than necessity. Jones speculates that the developing Eastern European sex industry, with the influx of Western producers and a Western market in mind, could be seen as an indicator of fertile ground for fascist ideologies—an aspersion confirmed by the global rise of far-right ideologies in tandem with the economic pressure of late-stage capitalism, a point at which more contemporary comparisons can be made.

The brief conclusion on the contemporary form of this exploitation aesthetic is also noteworthy:

In the same way that the fall of communism was exploited by the West, the financial and social insecurity of a generation living in recession, under permanent austerity, is exploited now. The aesthetics utilised in Jones’ film are still broadly present, albeit perhaps in a slightly altered form, now accompanied by a new visual language born from a culture numb to being told to “like, comment, share and subscribe”.

[navybrat817]

can we just take a moment to ✨appreciate✨ this? because I know where I’m looking… what about you? 😏

I'm INNOCENT, Lana. And you send me this?!

Wicked Tongue

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader Summary: Bucky has a wicked tongue. Word Count: Over 500 Warnings: Explicit sexual content, oral sex (f. receiving), reader is thirsty, Bucky Barnes (he's a warning and a menace, okay?). A/N: I swear, I'm innocent! But something short and sweet for a Sinful Saturday. ❤️Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

You tapped a finger against the drink you were holding, refusing to take a sip as you watched Bucky laugh at something Steve said. The love of your life was trying to kill you. Not literally, but it certainly felt the way. Why else would he pick a suit that molded to his beefy frame like a glove? What reason did he have to pull his silky long hair back like that?

He already had to fix it once since he decided to shove your dress up and sink to his knees before you left for the party.

“That’s it, baby. Pull my hair. Show me how much you love it when I fuck you with my tongue.”

As much as you loved Bucky eating you out, he loved it even more. You were certain there wasn’t another man on the planet who enjoyed the taste of pussy as much as he did. You ignored the twinge of jealousy because it wasn’t just any pussy he wanted. It was yours and yours alone.

Hell, if someone told him the sun rose in the east and set in the west, he’d argue that it went up when your legs opened and went down when they closed. Because the entrance to heaven existed between your thighs and it was only fair that he worshiped it with his mouth. You blessed him when you came on his tongue and he lapped up your offering with a groan every single time.

It felt almost as good as when you fell apart on his cock.

“Fuck,” you whispered when he swiped his tongue along his lip again.

Each time his tongue darted out of his mouth was like a personal attack, a jab to your core. You could still feel the indents from his fingers when he gripped your ass, shoving his face as close as he could so he could lick his way into your dripping cunt. The iron-clad grip nearly kept you from rocking your hips down, but it couldn’t stop the hot slick that rushed out of you when you came.

“Make a mess all over my face. Wanna taste you later.”

As if he sensed your stare, his sapphire eyes glanced your way from across the room and you forgot how to breathe. The beautiful bastard stared right at you as he dragged his tongue over his lower lip, slowly, deliberately. The way he sometimes did with your clit. You didn’t have super soldier strength, but you nearly shattered the glass in your hand from how hard you squeezed it when he winked.

And your panties were wet before, but now they were soaked.

You nodded toward the hall since you couldn’t find your voice. Bucky would help you find it. He’d make sure you moaned his name. Maybe even loud enough for everyone to hear.

“Excuse me, punk,” Bucky said to his best friend before he set his drink down. “In the mood for something a little sweeter.”

Something only you could satisfy his wicked tongue with.

We deserve this, okay? Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[littlenightma]

Run, Rabbit, Run | Thomas Hewitt x Female!Reader (NSFW)

Author’s Note: *slams post button* Here you go, sluts *evil cackle*

Warning tags: Primal kink, chase kink, breeding kink, lots o’ smut.

The Texas sun kissed your sweat-soaked skin with a harsh pressure of a thousand blow torches. His heavy breathing and roaring of his chainsaw pushed you forward, to keep going no matter what stood before you, but the persistent throbbing between your legs teased the resilience of your rapidly depleting willpower.

Miles separated you from the farm house and separated you from the rest of civilization. Oceans upon oceans of rocky dirt, dying grass, and the occasional road kill were all that could be seen.

The radiating sun, which had been sitting proudly in the sky to the East, now sat lamely in the West beginning to hide beyond the horizon. The ivory moon would force away its suffocating heat, providing the barest of illumination, increasing your chances at escaping.

A small part of you wished the sun would stay out and light up the world just a little while longer.

“You’re so polite for someone your age. You remind me so much of my boy Thomas.”

“If he’s anything like you, ma’am, he has to be the sweetest boy around.”

He was a six foot tall mountain of muscle and power, running with the determination of a blood hound tracking the scent of a wounded animal. When you thought you had successfully outsmarted him by suddenly changing directions within the tall, golden thickets at the last second, he’d still be barreling after you, unphased, no further than he was before.

There were moments, fleeting as they were, but impressionable nonetheless, where he had been so close to getting a hold of you. So close, the slight breeze from his hand attempting to grab your hair raised your skin, sucking the breath from your chest as you narrowly dodge him.

And that made things even more thrilling.

His grunts of frustration were muffled by his mask and the tight curve of his bottom lip. The lip jutted out awkwardly and looked as if it had been stung by a bee the way it was swollen.

Deformed.

And this deformed man was coming after you.

To him you were an outsider. A pest that needed eradicating. Even though his Mama willingly invited you into their home, he made you feel as if you were trespassing anyway. He wanted to kill you then and you were sure as shit he wanted to now, probably more than ever seeing how you keep escaping him.

She’d had asked him to keep you alive so assuming that he’d follow through with her request, your life would be spared, but for what sick reason? Would death be more lenient than what they had planned for you?

Of all days for your tire to blow out…

“Here he comes now,” said the woman, smiling expectantly as the basement door opened and out from the darkened staircase came Thomas.

The boy, no man, stood protectively behind the older woman. He placed his hands on her shoulders, watching you with narrowed eyes that were partially covered by a curtain of black, curly hair. To you, they looked like snakes ready to strike, and so did he.

His nose and lower half of his face was covered by a worn, leather mask that wrapped around the base of his head with thick straps. It looked uncomfortable to wear as it was was to look at.

He was not pleased to see a stranger sitting in his living room and you wanted to sink deeper into the faded couch and disappear. Maybe if you pushed against the cushions hard enough.

A muffled scream came from the basement. Luda Mae glanced up at her son then back to you. Your back straightened.

“What was that?”

She smiled, yet it didn’t quite reach her eyes, “Nothing, dear.”

Again, the basement door opened, and out came a man in a Sheriff’s uniform. Fresh blood splattered across his chest and arms, trickling down as he sauntered his way into the room.

“Who in the hell is this pretty thing?”

Time slowed down and so did your breathing. All three had you pinned with various stares ranging from curiosity, understanding, and searing contempt. You weren’t going to risk it. You jumped from the couch and hauled ass out the door, leaving a trail of dust behind.

“Son of a bitch,” said Hoyt. “Boy, go get her before she causes us any trouble.”

Luda Mae grabbed Thomas’ hand. “Keep this one alive, baby. She’ll be good one to have around.”

Thomas wanted to argue his Mama’s odd request, but the sweet smile she gave him and the gentle way she held his hand made him reconsider. He didn’t want her, that’s for damn sure, but whatever his Mama wanted, she’d get.

In the midst of your recollection you realized it was ominously quiet behind you. Peering back, he was no longer running after you. I’m fact, he wasn’t there at all.

You spun around, eyes frantically searching the desolate landscape. He didn’t just vanish into thin air, not a man of his size, yet he had. The weeds danced and suddenly parted, revealing him on all fours as he pushed himself off the ground, propelling into you with a gut-wrenching force, knocking you onto your back.

His full body weight had you pinned, flattening the dry brush beneath you. His barrel-chest heaved and his hand wrapped around your neck, squeezing. As frightened as you were, a strange sense of relief washed over and the instinct to raise your hips overtook you.

He tried moving away, but your legs locked him in. You awkwardly shimmied your shorts down and he watched you. His anger dissipated, replaced by hunger the more of your thighs he saw.

You captured his curious gaze, “Look how wet you made me.”

Your hand reached down and massaged your aching pussy through your sodden underwear. You were a mess, physically and mentally, and if you didn’t get fucked soon you were going to go rabid.

“Thomas, please. Don’t make me beg for it. You know what I want.”

Hearing his name revved him up like an engine. He could practically smell you through his mask. Your pussy glistened beneath the moonlight and he was more than willing to comply. With one hand still around your throat, he used the other to hastily unbuckle his belt and unzip his pants.

He roughly pushed your soaked panties aside and thrusted roughly inside you with a loud grunt. It was swift and had you not been as wet as you were you knew it would have hurt more than it did. You gasped and cried out, pounding your fist to the ground. He fucked you like an animal. It was exactly what you’d been yearning for and if felt so fucking good to finally get it.

His hips bucked with a mighty strength, sending you backwards every time. It made it hard for him to keep himself inside you without having to adjust his position. He scooped you up like a rag doll and pinned you against a tree, folding you between it and his body. The change in position was too much as the angle allowed him to reach new depths inside you, hitting spots you never knew you had, sending you over the edge.

Your climax arrived so suddenly that it left you silently shaking and clinging to Thomas. Your pussy clamped down like the jaws of a lion and he growled, spilling his seed inside you from the tightness.

He laid you both down on the ground with your back to him. You took the time to catch your breath and settle down, but Thomas had other plans. He raised your top leg in the air, spreading you wide and began pumping again.

“Slow, Thomas. I’m really sore.”

Not thinking he’d actually do as you asked, you were surprised at the gradual way he eased his thick cock back into your pussy, keeping a close eye on your face. Although you were too spent to cum again, you nestled back against his chest and idly enjoyed his thrusts.

“Just like that, Thomas. Oh…”

His head was right there and the temptation to kiss him was too good to pass up. Soft lips met his through the mask and he jerked back, stopping his movements altogether.

“God, don’t you stop, Thomas. Your cock is too good. Come back here.”

You wrapped an arm around his head and he let you bring him back down. This time he kissed back, licking and sucking your lips like they were made of chocolate. You were in absolute bliss, not thinking clearly, lost in a haze of euphoria.

With his mouth full of you and you full of him, he groaned a guttural sound that didn’t sound quite human. Your pussy took his second load with open arms, milking every last bit of him he had left to offer. You broke the sloppy kiss to watch his cock pulse and his balls twitch, finding it super erotic.

His cock left you open and wide. You clenched your walls and streams of his fresh cum gushed out. You swiped some and brought it to your lips with Thomas watching in clear fascination. You then offered your finger to him.

He titled his head and inspected the leftover fluid. After some time of pondering his tongue tentatively flicked out, considering the taste, then placed your entire finger in his mouth. He sucked until there was nothing left to suck except the saltiness of your skin.

Using the tree as a support, you carefully maneuvered up. Everything was sore, from your head down to your hips and the simple task of bending down seemed impossible. In an oddly sweet gesture, Thomas gathered your shorts and helped you put them back on.

“You know,” you began, eyes twinkling mischievously, “It’s a long way back to the house. Who knows what could happen on the way there.”

Thomas made a sound caught between a chuckle and a scuff. He watched you strut away, eyes glued to your bouncing ass.

His Mama was right. You were worth keeping around.

[gureumz]

wide open

rating: explicit

member: heeseung

premise: forced to marry a dictator king of a nearby kingdom, you're advised to shut up and take whatever king heeseung gives you and give him everything you have in return. in truth, you'd rather kill yourself than be married to this monster, but he has a way of changing people's minds

notes: fem!reader, dom!heeseung, royalty au, very slight angst, marriage of convenience/forced marriage, hate-ish sex, breeding, mentions of impregnation, use of pet names, unprotected sex, strangers to sort-of-lovers, mentions and descriptions of death and injury, lmk if i missed anything!

a/n: sixth and final entry for my 1k follower special! this is the end for my two-month 1k event! i'm so thankful for the love this received and i'm excited to start my new series/anthology! i can't wait to write your other requests as well and bring you more stories you can enjoy!

it's making your stomach churn.

the way your father looks at you right now, as if he's sorry but not really. apologetic only because shouting in delight would hardly seem appropriate at a time like this.

you can practically see the sparkle in the East king's eyes.

"the decree says so," your father says with a sigh like he regrets to inform you of such news. you bite down on your tongue to keep yourself from flinging the pewter cup filled with wine in front of you at him.

"the decree can say one thing but we can do exactly the opposite of it," you challenge, balling your fists in your lap. your father turns to you sharply.

"and then what, my love?" your father coos condescendingly. "race to see which one of our heads rolls off the gallows first when the new king of the West chops them off?"

you stare at your father, clad in his deep velvet garb, the lines on his forehead pronounced in the flickering firelight in his solar. you feel your whole face stiffen as you stare back at the spitting image of yourself, the exact source of the flame raging within you. you love your father and you know him. know him enough that it's no use arguing with him now. he would fling whatever words you had right back at you with double the force.

"you're lucky he didn't snatch you in the dead of night once he proclaimed victory," your father presses on. "you're lucky he's being diplomatic about it, issuing decrees so that all the four kingdoms are bonded legally to his whims."

"it hardly feels lucky being the sole maiden of royal blood fit enough to wed him," you spit back, turning away.

you hear your father lets out a breath and you can feel him walk away towards the large window that adorns the north side of his solar. you watch as he gazes out the glass panes, his back to you.

"he's a strapping young man, a talented general as he's proven, and truly the royal seed of his father before him," your father says, something unfamiliar in his voice. he turns back to you and you see, for the first time, the fear in his eyes.

"he turned on his own father, just as his father did with his father, took over that poor dead man's kingdom, and waged a war against his neighbors."

your father's voice trembles now.

"refusal would not only mean death, my rose," your father points out quietly, slipping in the endearment he so often used with you since you were a child.

"he would make sure you wished you were dead," he warns.

you swallow, letting his words sink in.

you think back on the past year, the months of hiding, the weeks spent banged up in the highest tower of your castle, the days of weeping as you waited for your father to come back, the minutes of terror as you were told the West king had emerged triumphant.

the second you saw your father, the Almighty Blessed King of the East, staggering through the palace gates, bloodied and broken.

that wretched tyrant from the West almost took your father away from you. giving yourself to him willingly hardly seems like the right move. but not doing so would mean a fate worse than death.

"is he really that terrible?" you ask, almost in a whisper.

your father walks up to where you're seated at his dining table. he reaches down and takes your hands in his calloused, war-scarred ones.

"i couldn't give you an answer to that if i tried," he explains. "i surrendered before i could get the chance to meet him."

"then how are you so ready to give away your only daughter, your only reminder of the woman you loved?" you implore, looking desperately into your father's eyes.

he shakes his head.

"this is how i want to remember you before you're whisked away into that cruel man's arms," your father says tenderly, tucking your hair behind your ear.

"feisty, with the zeal only your mother could pass on to you."

your eyes sting with tears at hearing your father mention his late queen.

your own mother feels like someone from a dream to you. she was there one moment and gone the next. much like yourself.

you let yourself cry silently, rising to let your father hold you in his arms.

---

the trip from the East to the West typically took a little over two weeks if no hiccups are encountered along the way. but you realized, merely two days in, that this whole marriage was cursed from the beginning.

it's as if the whole world conspired against this union, and you would have been grateful for it, but after days of running into problems (thieves and hunters and sudden thunderstorms and a pack of wild boars), the only thing you wanted was to be sheltered inside a warm castle room with a cup of spiced wine on your bedside.

so unbridled was your happiness when you heard a sudden shout from outside your carriage announcing your arrival at the gates of the West Kingdom castle. your two ladies-in-waiting riding with you had equally relieved faces, your hands immediately reaching out to grasp theirs.

"we're here, your grace," the younger of the two, yuna, whispers excitedly.

olivia, the older and more cynical one, swats at yuna's arm.

"don't sound so happy," olivia berates. "this is a dictator's castle we're entering."

yuna shrinks back in her seat and you reach over to clasp her hand reassuringly.

"i'm the only one fit enough to marry him," you remind. "he should know better than to lay a single finger on me."

olivia eyes you worriedly while yuna nods in agreement.

"i'll be alright," you say. whether it's to them or to yourself, you're not entirely sure.

the entirety of your royal party comes to a halt after what you felt was an hour's worth of treading on a steep incline and only then do you allow yourself to peek through the curtains of your carriage.

you gasp as you see the fog all around. you're aware that the West was the mountainous region of the four kingdoms but seeing the clouds form beneath the castle grounds made your stomach twist uncomfortably.

"let's hope he doesn't throw me down the ravine," you mutter quietly. olivia and yuna exchange looks before giggling quietly.

you alight from your carriage a few more minutes later, the sudden light nearly blinding you. the sun is covered in dark clouds but the lack of any greenery to shield your field of view has you squinting to see in front of you.

"good morrow, your grace," a voice greets. you turn and see a smartly-dressed man approach, bowing deeply. he's adorned in the West king's court colors and it's then you notice the pin affixed on his chest.

"i'm lord jake, the royal chamberlain," he adds, taking your hand and pressing his lips to your skin. he straightens up and gestures behind him.

your eyes follow where he's pointing and you see a grand staircase leading up to the heavy wooden doors at the entrance to the castle.

"let me assist you to the throne room," jake offers, holding out his arm to you. you take it, fixing a firm grip on his bicep.

"the king is waiting," he adds.

---

you let yourself be pulled through the towering hallways, resisting the urge to gape at the lavishly adorned walls. portraits of Western monarchs, legendary shields and swords owned by said monarchs, heavy purple drapery. jake seems to understand, walking at a pace that hardly indicates that you're in any rush.

you turn behind you to see olivia and yuna following dutifully, your other ladies and servants following close behind, flanked by guards both from your party and from the West King's.

you turn back ahead of you, catching sight of the heavy doors to what you can only guess is the throne room.

"if i may speak freely, your grace." jake turns to you slightly. you return his gaze and nod.

"of course," you say.

"you need not be nervous," jake reassures. "i know of the tales you might have heard about our king. but i've been a companion of his since we were boys. he does not hurt those who are not deserving to be hurt."

you remain silent for a few seconds as you continue to approach the throne room. after a while, you respond to jake.

"i appreciate the words of comfort, my lord," you begin. "but what indication do you have that i'm nervous?"

jake smiles warmly at you just as you reach the doors.

"you've been squeezing my arm since you've arrived, your grace," jake points out.

a pause. your face breaks out into a smile and jake mirrors your expression, both of you allowing yourselves a moment to laugh.

the guards by the throne room doors heave them open and you stand, stiff but adorning your face with a look of resolve. jake pulls his arm away and steps in front of you. just as the doors fully open, jake bows to the throne and then to you.

"my most revered King of the West, this is Princess _________ of the East and her royal household," jake announces in a booming voice that startles you slightly.

"princess," jake continues, turning to you once more.

"i present to you, the Most Royal King of the West, King Heeseung,."

---

everything was a blur after that.

you do, however, remember the silver shock of hair atop the king's head. the deep purple of his doublet. the tight black breeches and black boots laced up around his ankles.

you could see King Heeseung's lips remain unmoving as you curtsied deeply in front of him. you remember the feeling of fear, humiliation, and embarrassment at having to bow in front of a cruel tyrant.

you remember the hint of a smile grace his mouth as you straighten up. you remember the sweat gathering on your palms.

you remember muffled words being exchanged between the king and jake. you couldn't make out what they were saying with the blood rushing in your ears. you remember curtsying one more time before jake takes your hand and leads you and your people out of the throne room.

now, hours later, seated in front of a mirror in an airy room somewhere on the north wing of the castle, you remember to breathe, letting out a breath you didn't know you were holding.

"your grace, are you alright?" olivia asks from behind you, her hand pausing mid-brush as she gathers your hair in her other hand.

you meet her eyes through the mirror and nod.

"yes," you answer. "just a little...tired."

"i would assume so," yuna speaks up from the other side of the room, her slender figure bent over the numerous chests containing your belongings.

"i asked and it turns out we traveled close to a month," yuna rambles. "a month! who takes a month to get from the East to the West?"

you smile at yuna's shrill voice, a comfort from the eerie silence that seems to surround the castle.

"how are you two liking it here so far?" you ask, addressing your two ladies. a palpable pause comes over the room as you wait for their response.

"it's...alright," olivia begins. "better than i expected. i pictured brutes and barbarians to litter the halls but that's a misjudgment on my part, your grace."

"everyone seems kind enough," yuna chimes in. "the king barely said a word so i'm not sure how to feel about him yet."

"better to hold your tongue when speaking of the King of the West, child," you lightly berate. "we don't know who's listening."

olivia and yuna both nod in understanding.

a knock from the door to your room interrupts your discussion.

"come in," you call out. you turn to see another one of your ladies poke their head in before straightening up and bowing.

"your grace," jen, a sprightly lady-in-waiting of yours addresses you.

"i've been informed that the king asks for your presence in his study," jen relays, hands folded in front of her.

time seems to stop as you hear these words. you feel olivia grip your shoulder and you hear a clatter of something as yuna drops it. jen avoids your eyes as the four of you soak in her words.

"well," you say after a moment. "i better make haste, then.

you meet olivia's eyes through the mirror once more and she smiles encouragingly.

---

you ask jen to accompany you this time to give olivia and yuna time for their own personal needs. jen readily agreed, not more than five paces behind you as you make your way to where you were told the king's study is.

the castle is bathed in late afternoon light, a gentle breeze fluttering through the hallways. hardly any noise can be heard save for the occasional footsteps of servants and soft chatter from some of the rooms. your heart hammering against your chest is the only thing that fills your ears constantly.

"this is it, right?" you turn to ask jen. she nods as you two stop in front of an intricately carved door with a heavy golden stag knocker.

"you may take your leave," you tell jen.

"your grace?" jen asks, voice meek. "should i not wait for you out here?"

you shake your head. "i have a feeling neither of us knows how long the king will keep me in there."

jen opens her mouth as if to say something more but she stops, sighing. she nods and bows to you before starting down the hallway.

you turn away from jen's disappearing form, hand grasping at the stag knocker. you pound the heavy metal against the door three times before stepping back, waiting to be let in.

"enter," comes a voice from inside.

you swallow, reaching for the door handle. you give it a turn, the door easily swinging inward. you step through the gap, pressing your lips in a thin line as you anticipate what you might see.

the study is a respectable size, with bookcases adorning nearly every wall. a fireplace crackles with flames at the far left end of the room and a large desk rests in the middle of it all.

hunched over a stack of parchment is King Heeseung himself, a quill twirling lazily between his fingers.

your eyes meet and the king straightens in his seat.

"your grace—"

you pause, having both said the same thing at the same time. to your surprise, King Heeseung offers a smile. not knowing what else to do, you force an uneasy smile back.

"sit with me, my lady," he says, motioning to the chair in front of his desk. you gather your skirts and perch yourself at the very edge of the seat.

no one speaks for what feels like an eternity. the king has paused in his perusing of the parchment in front of him and you've busied yourself with staring at your hands resting on your lap.

"there will be a welcome banquet tonight," King Heeseung's voice cuts through the silence.

"to celebrate your arrival," he continues.

you dip your head low.

"you have my gratitude, your grace," you say mechanically.

King Heeseung clears his throat. "i also arranged for the wedding feast to take place a week from now."

you allow yourself to gaze upon the King of the West, your eyebrows pinching together.

the king sees your expression and pauses.

"but if you wish to either hasten or push back the ceremony, then i'll take it into consideration," King Heeseung hurriedly adds, his sharp eyes rounding into a softer form.

you realize that sitting here, eye level with the king, that he's merely a man like any other. a man who smiles and startles and laughs.

your mind flashes back to your father's beaten and bruised face. your expression falls.

"no, your grace. a week from now is fine," you concede.

a long stretch of silence follows. you avert your eyes to the window to your right, gazing at the vibrant sky painted in the colors of the sunset.

"heeseung," comes the king's voice. you turn to him, a questioning look on your face.

"you can call me heeseung," he clarifies.

your face must have been of utter confusion because the king smiles again.

"we are to be wed, are we not? i would assume that you'd prefer a much more relaxed method of addressing each other." heeseung leans back in his plush seat, awaiting a response.

"of course," you agree. "and you may address me however you wish."

"my betrothed."

the two words roll smoothly off heeseung's tongue and a strange tug pulls at your chest. you nod silently as if to grant permission.

heeseung clears his throat again, pushing himself off his chair. you rise as well but you make no move to look at his face.

you see from the corner of your eye his hand reaching out to you.

"come. the banquet should be starting soon."

you shakily place your hand in his and he gently wraps his fingers around yours.

"after you, my dear betrothed," he says, motioning towards the door.

---

it turns out, a week flies by extremely fast.

you've managed to meet all of the people of importance in heeseung's court in that time, memorizing names and faces and feasting with a number of them.

heeseung hovers around, greeting you as you go about your day but ultimately keeping his distance. you wonder if you should be doing more to prepare for your wedding but you don't dare question any of heeseung's or his council's plans.

in a blink of an eye, the week is over and you're standing in the throne room, draped in your finest garments, practically glittering from head to toe with the jewelry you've brought from home.

heeseung stands tall and regal beside you, his hair perfectly done and his royal regalia adorning his broad frame. strangely enough, his face is what you anchor on for most of the ceremony—a blur of vows and prayers and oaths and finally, a restrained brush of lips to make things official.

the feast may as well have not happened with how blurry your memory of it is. you sat at the high table, watching the festivities but not really seeing anything.

that is, until a particular loud courtier knocks over a chair, bringing down plates and utensils as collateral damage in his drunken state. the noise jars you for a moment but heeseung lays a warm hand on yours to steady you.

and now, sitting on the edge of your bed, stripped down to your undergarments by your reluctant ladies, you shiver at the thought of what your wedding night may bring.

you've heard stories from your ladies and you've been taught enough by the tutors you've had over the years. but to lay with a man such as heeseung, it chills you down to the bone. would he hurt you? would he demand things from you? perhaps kill you?

you shake your head. it would do no good for him to kill you now. you're both in dire need of heirs for your respective domains, him especially now that he's deposited himself as the supreme ruler of all the kingdoms in your land. and even without taking children into consideration, would he really drive in his image as a tyrant? slaying his wife on their wedding night?

your thoughts are dissolved when you hear a knock come from the door. a second later, heeseung walks in, his cape and gloves amiss, and so are the tightly-laced hunting boots, leaving him in his doublet and breeches, wool boots covering his feet.

he almost looks...nervous.

"my b—"

heeseung pauses, taking in a sharp breath.

"my wife."

your head spins as heeseung says these words. you can physically feel the color draining from your face. when heeseung says it like that, it makes it more real, your fate looming over you like an impregnable fortress caging you in.

"yes, your grace?" you respond, trying to sound composed amidst your anxiety.

heeseung studies you for a second before sighing. he tugs his boots off, undoing his doublet right after. he shrugs the garment off, leaving him bare from the waist up. you gasp softly, abruptly turning away.

"you need not address me like that, remember?" heeseung reminds, trudging carefully before coming to a stop in front of you.

he reaches a hand out, attempting to hold a side of your face but you flinch, your whole body lurching at the feeling of his skin against yours.

your heart pounds as you quickly realize the fault in what you just did. you peer up at heeseung, eyes shaking with fear.

you expected anger, annoyance, or even confusion.

but all you see is a pair of despondent eyes looking down at you.

"why are you afraid? why do you fear me?" heeseung asks, voice quiet, defeated.

your insides churn as you try to find the right words. in a moment, the whole ordeal comes crashing down on you, the day's events flashing in your mind, a reminder that this is your life now. you're married to a dictator for the rest of your days.

"shouldn't i be?" you reply, voice stony. "i'd be a fool to not be scared of someone who murdered their own father and waged a war against the entire world."

heeseung remains silent. he heaves a sigh, turning away from you.

"it seems as if it was a mistake to ask for your hand in marriage," heeseung says.

a flicker sparks inside you.

"you didn't ask!" you cry out, voice accusatory. you stand, pulling yourself to your full height. this outrage has sprung from nowhere, seized you fully, summoning all the anger within you.

"you commanded me here, you took me away from my family, my home! i came all the way here to marry an evil man and he suddenly decides that marrying me was a mistake?"

"i gave up everything i had to fulfill a duty i was called to, that you called me to," you continue, placing yourself right in front of heeseung.

"i need you to prove to me that all this is worth it. that i did not come here to be some poor slave to a tyrant! show me and prove me wrong that you're not just some monster that nearly killed my father!"

you feel the air knocked out of you as a pair of lips press against your own. you cry out in surprise but something snaps within you, the final branch needed to let the fire catch and spread.

heeseung is kissing you and you're kissing him, your hands clawing at any part of him you could reach. his own fingers tug at your chemise, pulling it down your shoulders until it slips off your body completely.

"you're sick, forcing yourself on your wife like this," you pant against heeseung's mouth. he undoes his breeches, letting them fall.

"my wife is free to leave if she pleases," heeseung retaliates, kicking off the last of his clothes.

both of you are stark naked now.

you stand there, breathing heavily as you look into each other's eyes.

"your wife will not leave until you've bedded her and put an heir in her womb," you seethe. "that's all she came here for, after all."

heeseung grunts lowly, attacking your lips once more. he shoves you down on the bed, caging you in easily with his firm body. he runs his hands up and down your sides, squeezing and fondling at every piece of flesh he can dig his fingers into. you moan and squirm under his touch, an ache growing between your legs.

"you'll give me as many heirs as i wish," heeseung says as he kisses his way down to your neck. he suckles on a spot just beneath your jaw and the sound of defiance that you originally wanted to let out is caught in your throat.

"of course, so they can usurp you when it's your time," you say through your teeth.

heeseung says nothing, only looks at you, his face pulled down in an angry frown.

"listen here, darling," heeseung commands, voice dipping even lower. he pulls you by your thighs to the edge of the bed, pushing your legs open.

he glances down and you stare at his face as it turns into a look of intrigue, his eyes transfixed on your core.

you're soaking wet, clenching around nothing as your husband continues to survey what's between your legs. he looks back up at you, a hand reaching over to grasp your jaw in one large hand.

"my father was a madman and so was his father before him," heeseung begins and you feel something prod at your entrance. you gasp as half of him is pushed in with a single swivel of heeseung's hips.

"maybe i'll turn out to be one too, but right now, all i did was clean up the mess he made," heeseung continues, fully burying himself inside you. your legs tremble at the painful stretch and all you want is to hide your face away in the sheets but heeseung's firm grip on your face won't let you.

"he started this war," heeseung says accusingly. he draws back, allowing you momentary relief before thrusting back in, a half cry, half moan escaping you.

"yeah, my sweet?" heeseung pauses to address you momentarily, his eyes dark and evidently hungry.

"feel good?"

he doesn't wait for an answer as he lets go of your face in favor of holding your hips tightly between his hands. heeseung sets up a ruthless pace, mouth hanging open as he watches himself slide in and out of you.

you grit your teeth and refuse to look away yourself, gazing upon the face of what might be another in a line of mad kings. your husband, half of who you are now, half of what your children will be.

the thought sickens you to your stomach.

but the delicious fill of his cock deep in you has you quivering with want, breathless with desire. if this is how good it feels to fuck a mad king, then maybe you are the perfect maiden to wed him.

well, not so much a maiden now that he's buried in you to the hilt, one of his hands grabbing at your breast.

his words 'he started this war' echo in your brain, but a shift of heeseung's hips has your eyes rolling back in your head, that thought forgotten momentarily.

"come on my sweet, look at me," heeseung pleads gently. he leans down, nearly flattening his form over your own. he continues to fuck you, thursts shallow in this new position

you hook your own arms around heeseung's neck, meeting his eyes.

"you don't fear me, do you?" heeseung asks laboriously through heavy breaths. "you never did."

you withhold an answer, leaning in to press your lips roughly against heeseung's instead. he growls low in his chest, his hips moving even faster than they already were.

you keep your mouths together, tongues lapping over every expanse of each other. a shiver runs through you as you feel the friction against your core increase, turning rougher and rougher as heeseung seems to lose himself in you.

you pull away, running your fingers through the hair on the back of heeseung's head. you tighten your grip on the strands and heeseung hisses.

"no," you finally answer. "i'm not scared of you so fuck me like you mean it."

the world seems to give out from all around you as the last words escape you, your hips pinned down painfully against the bed. your legs quiver as you feel heeseung pound into you, faster, rougher, harder. you let a sob rip out of you, your whole body seizing as your release slams down on you.

heeseung looks at you and only you, eyes wide and ravenous.

you clench around heeseung and he collapses over you, hands braced on either side of your head, his face scrunched up in pleasure as you feel him throb deep in you. you feel his thick seed warm up your walls and you gasp softly, your body finally relaxing.

you lay there, weak and unmoving, as heeseung pulls out and rolls off you. he comes to rest on one side of you, his hair tickling your shoulder. without another word, heeseung pushes himself up and retrieves his discarded breeches off the floor.

your heart sinks as you think that he's about to leave. your throat tightens, the thought of being used just like that, despite being his wife, his queen, repulsing you so badly.

but heeseung doesn't walk out the door. he loosely strings up his breeches and walks over to the vanity on the other side of the room. you failed to notice when you came in the first time the bowl of water and washcloth resting beside it.

heeseung wets the cloth, wringing it momentarily before walking back over to you. you've propped yourself on your elbows now, watching his every move.

"sit up, my sweet," heeseung implores gently, seating himself beside you.

you oblige, wincing at the slight sting between your legs as you shift into a more comfortable position. heeseung starts with your face, smoothing over your cheeks with the cloth, the cooled water bringing out a sigh of relief.

he moves to wipe at your neck, then your chest. he peers down at you, laying a gentle hand on your thigh.

"let me clean down there too," heeseung says. you nod, feeling vulnerable under his watch. you part your sore thighs, letting heeseung swipe away at the stickiness.

heeseung finishes and returns the washcloth to the bowl. he picks your chemise up on the way back to you, placing it in your hands. you wordlessly stand, pulling the thin fabric over you, overtly aware of heeseung watching you from where he sits on the bed.

you turn back to him and he's gazing up at you, expression softer than all of the other times. he reaches a hand out shakily, as if hesitant, and you take it, stepping between his parted knees.

he places his hands on our lower back as if to cradle you. before you could stop yourself, you let your hand smooth back some of his silvery locks of hair.

"he—my father—sent those decrees of war out when he realized i was on to him," heeseung mumbles.

you nod gently, signaling him to go on.

"i found out he'd been plotting this war for years right under my nose. i was brought up to command my father's army but i never knew it was for this," he continues.

"i begged him to stop but you can't reason with someone mad," heeseung says, voice shaking.

looking at him now, eyes so doe-like and piercing straight through your own, you realize that underneath what you called a tyrant, he was just a boy willing his father to do right.

"i had to end it one way or another," heeseung continues, head bowing.

you pull him to you, cradling him against your chest. you feel heeseng's arms tighten around your torso.

"but by the time i had dealt the final blow, it was too late. the decrees were sent and i had no choice but to fight the war he left me with."

your chest constricts.

"why not just take the decrees back, admit surrender?" you ask quietly. heeseung looks up at you and you're struck by how handsome he looks when he's not acting like the king he is.

soft lips, the delicate turn of his nose, fluttering eyelashes.

"i was already a kinslayer and a kingslayer. i couldn't lose everything after that," heeseung whispers, brows pinched together as if begging you to believe him.

a flurry of emotions course through you. despite this, you smile apologetically.

you bend down slightly, placing a gentle kiss on heeseung's forehead.

"i don't fear you," you whisper against his skin. you feel him deflate beneath your touch.

"but there is so much more i need to understand about you, husband."

heeseung pulls away and nods. he takes your hands in his, kissing your knuckles.

"and i'll try my hardest to make you understand. i don't expect forgiveness, just your open heart and open eyes to see who i really am."

you afford yourself another smile. you lean down once more, kissing heeseung softly.

"they're wide open, my King."

[satorusugurugurl]

The Incantation

Summary: You’re bored on a Saturday night with a book of spells? Might as well try to summon an Incubus, but your world is turned upside down when it actually works!

Pairing: Incubus!Gojo Satoru X AFAB!Reader

Warnings: incubus, witch craft, spells, demons, sex, unprotected sex, creampie,

Word Count: 2.7K

A/N: Kinktober day twelve! Incubus! If I could summon incubus Gojo I would drain him like a succubus!! 💚💚💚

The chalk was a stark white against the wood flooring of your bedroom, only illuminated by the glow of the candles that had been placed north, south, east, and west. You kind of felt stupid, like this was a waste of time, but when you found this old Latin book in the bookshop you worked at, you figured it was a Saturday night; you didn't have a date, so why not try to embrace the Halloween spirit?

Besides, it wasn't like anything would happen with this phony spell in an old book!

You sat on the outside of the circle, humming as you flipped through the pages of the book. “Alright, magic circle, check. Candles are in each direct; check, check! And last but not least, an offering.” You looked around your room, pursing your lips together, thinking of what you could use as an offering. A can of Coke and a bar of chocolate caught your eye.

The coke and chocolate were meant for a little treat after work. But you got so caught up in this book that you hadn’t touched it either. The thought of going downstairs to grab a raw steak wasn't appealing. Especially when you knew deep down, this wasn't going to work.

“Fuck it!”

Grabbing them and putting them inside the circle before flipping back to the book. “Alright, so let's see. With the offering placed, I can now say the incantation and summon an incubus.” You took a deep breath, holding the book in front of you. “Latinam ignore, ideo simulare carmen magicum vocare Gojo Incubus calidum!!” You chanted as you stared at the circle, waiting for nothing to happen like you thought it would. A minute passed before you hummed, looking back at the book. “Latinam ignore, ideo simulare carmen magicum vocare Gojo Incubus calidum?” Again, nothing happened. “Hmm, maybe my pronunciation is o—”

Blue flames rose from the chalk, crackling and burning. You screamed in shock, sitting back and dropping the book as a dark form materialized out of the fire, standing over six feet tall. Smoke rose as a beautiful man yawned, stretching his hands about his head before he reached up, rubbing at the icy blue horns with white tips that grew from his head. His eyes were glowing a bright cerulean blue, framed by long white lashes.

He is so hot!? His hair looked soft, and his pristine white skin reminded you of fresh snow. His pale skin almost shimmered in the blaze of the candles around him. He was flawless in every way one could imagine, which was a stark contrast to the black tunic he was wearing.

“Hi~” His voice was a smooth ass, honey. “You called Sweetheart?”

“I-I—!!”

You were too stunned to speak as this incubus reached down, cracking open the Coke and chugging it down before he ripped open the chocolate bar. “Let me guess.” He skeptically, taking in your curves and the beautiful tone of your skin and your hair. “You found a book, didn’t think the spell would work, and now you’re too shocked to see me.” You watched as clawed fingers the same shade of blue as his eyes and horns worked at the wrapper of the chocolate bar.

“Y-You’re an incubus!” You flipped through the book you had called a fake. “A real-life incubus!”

“Uh-huh~ and I need to break it to you, but chocolate and soda will not satisfy my hunger.”

“O-Oh—“a nervous laugh rose from your lungs. “Uhm, I am so sorry, but this is a misunderstanding. I didn’t think this would work. I never meant actually to summon you.”

“Well, you did, and I used up a lot of energy getting here.” You squeaked as he bit into the chocolate bar, revealing sharp teeth. “Besides, I can smell how pent-up you are.”

You wanted to be disgusted with his assumption, but you were intrigued. Because you were pent up, it had been so long since you had been with anybody. If you were being honest, you weren’t even cutting it out anymore. The depth of your soul, you were hoping this would happen because how hot would it be to have sex with an incubus? The creatures you had read about in your smutty novels.

But now that an actual incubus was standing before you, you weren’t sure if you were as excited as you were at the prospect of it. You knew what incubus were. They were literal demons that feast off of the sexual desire of women. They fed off sex. Suppose you were to go through this, which was a terrible idea. Would you survive? Or would your roommates find you days later? Shriveled up like a raisin.

“I might be bent up, but that doesn’t mean I’m just gonna give it to you.”

“Oh, sure you will.” The demon said with a grin, taking another bite of the chocolate. “Because no one in their right mind would turn down a night with the infamous Gojo Satoru.”

You tilted your head to the side. “The Gojo Satoru? I’ve never heard of you before.” His forked tongue darted out past his lips, running over his bottom one.

“What do you say we change that then? I would love to get more acquainted with you and your body.”

You cross your arms over your chest effectively, pushing your breasts together. “How do I know you’re not going to kill me? Isn’t that what you’re humans until they’re nothing more than empty husks?” That had the demon licking almost insulted at your mischaracterization of him.

“I would never do that! If anything, this might turn into a regular business deal. So what do you say? Aren’t you tired of using those plastic silicone toys of yours? Wouldn’t you rather have the real thing?”

“I don’t know.”

Gojo hummed, finishing the chocolate bar and tossing the wrapper. “How about we make a deal?” Gojo could see the way your eyes brightened.

“A deal?”

“Yeah, I won’t kill you in an exchange. I get to use you every once in a while.” He crouched down, leg spread wide as he eyed you up and down. “I honestly believe it would be beneficial to both of us. You get to get dicked down whenever you do that incantation. And I get to feed from your lust and sex until I’ve had my fill of it.”

You still eyed him like you didn’t trust him all the way, which was brilliant because, as nice as he may be, he was still an incubus. A very hot delicious looking incubus. You sat on your knees, leaning in closer to him.

“You promise?”

“I cross my heart. He did exactly that: a blue glowing ‘x’ formed over his heart. “You have my word, mortal. So what shall it be?”

You continued to stare at each other, heat and tension rising as Gojo eyed your body up and down. Gojo couldn’t remember the last time he had a mortal woman. But he was growing hungrier as he eyed the woman sitting in front of him. He needed you, and he was going to eat you up. He just needed to use a little more of his charm.

In a sudden jolt, you were leaning over the manic circle, grabbing him by the black tunic and slamming your lips against his. They were so soft and sweet, tasting like the chocolate he had eaten minutes before. Your hand tightened around the silky fabric, pulling him closer towards you. The lust and desire flooded the room like a fragrant candle. Both of you lost yourselves in it.

Gojo reached up, cupping both sides of your face as he stepped outside of the magic circle, carrying you to the desk, sitting you down on your ass. In the process of doing so, however, he knocked the stacks of books off your desk, sending them clattering to the floor, which you couldn’t care about because all you wanted was him, this insanely hot incubus.

“Holy shit,” you whispered, pulling away from his lips and running your fingers over his smooth skin. He chuckled, running his fingers through your hair and tugging it gently.

“Oh, sweetie, we’re just getting started.” He was fucking smirking, causing your core to throb; he began trailing kisses down the side of your neck, causing you to shudder against him. His sharp teeth graze your skin. “Want to know the best part?” All you could do was hum in response as he cupped your breasts, long, sharp nails ripping at your t-shirt, “I’m going to be the best fuck you’ve ever had.”

You moaned in anticipation as you reached down, unbuttoning his pants, “Less talking,” you shoved your hand inside his pants, smirking at the hiss that liege his lips as you found his thick massive cock nice and hard, “and more of that fucking you keep bragging about.” You stroked his cock, winning a growl from him.

“Shit,” he stabbed his nail through the center of your shirt, dragging it down to rip off of you. “You’re one kinky mortal, aren’t you? Look like I’ll be enjoying a feast.” He reached behind you, unclasping your bra and dropping it to the ground.

“Oooh~ I’m a BookTok girlie; I think you’re going to find out you’re my feast.” You stroked him harder, moaning softly as his large hands reached down, cupping your breasts.

“Well, I can’t complain about that.” He cooed, a forked tongue darting out and flicking over one of your nipples. “ I may not know what a BookTok girl is by fuck you're beautiful.” He grunted as you twisted your hand softly around his shaft, “Fuck,” He growled, pressing his forehead against yours, “Are you trying to excite me?”

He trailed his fingers over the sides of your breasts, causing you to shiver under his touch, “Maybe,” you responded, gripping his cock tighter as he began kneading at your breasts, “Oh God, that feels so good.” He squeezed them harder, drawing a gasp from you, “Gojo.”

“Satoru~,” he whispered in your earth, teeth grazing your earlobe. “My name is Satoru~” The pads of his thumbs rubbed over the peaks of your nipples, taking in the way you jumped. “Try saying it while I play with your amazing tits.”

“Satoru,” you growled, pushing his pants down past his amazing ass, “fuck me, please.” Satoru could taste the sugary sweetness of your lust and desire. It made our mouth water as he pulled his cock out, stroking it quickly.

“I’m going to fuck you so good, Sweetheart.” You whined as he pulled your shorts and panties to the side, licking his lips, “Looks like this pretty girl is already wet for me.” He laughed, rubbing his fingers up and down your slit, watching your slick-coat his fingers. Your intoxicating scent makes his mouth water. “Fuck I can taste you. I need to be inside of you.”

He grabbed your hips, scooting you closer to the edge of the desk, forcing your legs apart., “I need you too.” Gojo’s fingers dug into the sin of your hips, pulling you towards him, allowing the head of his cock to rub against your slickened opening, “please hurry, I need you inside me.”

He slowly eased into you, growling as your walls clamped down on his thick long cock. Your walls twitched, stretching to accommodate his impressive length. You yearned for more, one of your hands gripping the edge of the desk while the other grabbed a handful of his glorious ass easing him deeper inside of you. The two of you were a panting and horny mess as you grew used to the other's body.

“Fuck,” he groans into your ear, his breath tickling your neck, “you're so tight.” He rests his head against the crook of your neck as he bucks his hips into yours.

You're moaning and writhing against him, desperate and hungry for more. His hips are snapping forward faster and harder with every slide of his cock inside of you. Your breasts bounce up and down with every thrust. Your nipples are rubbing against the fabric of his tunic, making them feel insanely sensitive with every brush against the fabric.

Digging your nails into his ass, you start bucking against him, “Faster, fuck me faster.” You tilt your head back as he growls deep from inside his chest as he thrusts faster, “Yeah, just like that, fuck me, Gojo.” and he does as you tell him to do.

He fucked you harder and faster against the desk to the point where it was shaking violently. Sending more books and pends falling to the ground. You should be concerned about your laptop falling to the ground, but that's the last thing on your mind. All that's on your mind is Gojo and his FUCKING monster cock inside of you, stretching you like you've never been stretching. Bringing out a new burning desire you’d never felt before. He was fucking you like you'd never been fucked before.

“You taste so good,” he whispered as he planted kisses against your flushed skin, “your lust is so tasty~ and you. Fuuuck, you’re so beautiful and hot,” he chuckled and growled as you tightened yourself around him, “oh and you’re sexy as hell. “Trust me~ I know.”

“You're,” you whimper, “one,” more whimpers slip past your swollen lips, “to talk.” you finally manage to get out before a scream of absolute pleasure rips through your throat as he slams into you. He was hitting every sweet spot with each thrust, bringing you closer and closer to a lovely yet intense orgasm, “oh my fuck,” you whispered against his forehead, “Oh my fucking God, I’m gonna cum, I’m gonna cum Satoru! Fucking I-I’m gonna,” your train of thought trailed off as he dug his fingers harder into your hips thrusting deeper inside of you.

He could taste it. Your desire was filling him up. Satisfying the hunger that was so deep, he never thought it would be fulfilled, but you, fuck, you were an exception. One he wasn’t sure he could give up. “Cum for me, pretty girl~,” he grunted, his voice hoarse and ragged in pleasure, “cum all over my cock, cum for me.”

“S-Satoru!” You screamed out loud as you reached up, holding his head flush against your neck as you threw your head back. Waves of pleasure rushed through you as that coil in your abdomen snapped, drawing out gasps and whimpers of pleasure from you, “Fuck, Fuck, fuck!” you whimpered, feeling him twitch inside of you as your inner walls squeezed and clamped down around him.

With a final snap of his hips, Satoru buried himself completely inside of your hot wet pussy. His body stiffened as he growled your name through his teeth. He continued to thrust and roll his hips as he filled you with his seed, and he didn't let up until both of you were gasping for air.

“Now that,” you inhaled deeply, stroking his head, “that's what I call sex.” He laughed slowly, still trying to regain whatever composure he could, “And having hot sex on my desk, you have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that for.”

He somehow managed to pull himself away from your body, his hands reaching up to cup your face, “Well, you have me for the rest of the night.” He growled, the sound causing you to clamp down around him.

“Oh, Toru~ I’m going to make sure you don’t leave here hungry.”

He blinked, tilting his head to the side as you pushed him back. He walked back until the back of his legs hit the bed, and he fell back against it. “Oof!” He huffed as you straddled either side of his face, your dripping pussy inches from his mouth. “O-Ooh fuck.” He whispered as you smirked down at him.

“Enjoy the meal, Mr. Demon.” Gojo swallowed hard before he brought you down in his mouth, starting to wonder if you were a succubus yourself.

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[fruityumbrella]

one piece is set in a nautical world with presumably nautical idioms and exclamations to match, right, like swearing by the sea rather than on a god etc. to wit, there's five seas (the four blues + the grand line) so we can assume when you're feeling particularly dramatic, you might refer to all those vast oceans to get your hyperbolic point across.

keeping that in mind, lets live in a stupidly romantic corny ass world for a moment ok? take my hand.

"I swear on all six seas, if you don't shut the fuck up right now—"

"What?" Sanji looks at him like he's stupid. Nothing new, really.

"Ha, even you're going deaf having to listen to your own annoying ass whining all the time, Cook. I was—"

"No, you—"

"Don't interrupt me! Oi!" he yelps as a wooden spoon bounces harmlessly off his shoulder. He's not impressed that Sanji manages to catch it before it hits the counter.

"You said six seas," Sanji states.

Zoro stares back in lieu of an answer.

"Huh, maybe this has something to do with why you're always lost. There's only five seas, dummy."

And ah, now he gets what the idiot cook is on about. He's surprised and a little disappointed, honestly. You'd think the guy would be a little more aware about his own fucking dream, but whatever. He's got that annoying smile, smug and cocky like he's oh so much better than Zoro.

"Would you like me to count them out for you? I know it's a big number, it's probably confusing for a simple creature like you."

Zoro crosses his arms in clear warning, something the cook, as always, blatantly ignores. He's leaning on the counter that's between them now, eyes sparkling with glee. Idiot. Zoro's thoughts do not have a fond tone to them. Thoughts don't have tones at all, thank you very much.

Sanji lifts a hand and proceeds to count off on his fingers with the precision of a drill sergeant.

"I'm sure you at least know our ocean, the East Blue. There's also the West Blue, North Blue, South Blue, and of course the Grand Line," he wiggles all his fingers as he puts his thumb up for the last one like he's emulating fireworks.

Zoro snorts indelicately. "And?"

Sanji frowns with a tilt of his head.

"And?"

Zoro holds up his index finger.

"And," he says, stifling his amusement as Sanji goes cross eyed trying to follow said finger as it arcs towards him, "your All Blue. Dummy."

He punctuates the last word by poking Sanji in the forehead, snickering when he sputters and swats the digit away in a huff. Then Zoro's words finally sink in, and he straightens up almost too fast. It's not endearing at all.

"Wait," he says quietly, "you count it?"

Zoro doesn't like how Sanji's looking at him with an open expression he's not usually allowed. He looks earnest and sincere. Zoro feels suddenly out of his depth.

"Don't you?" he deflects uncomfortably.

"Well yeah, but that's different. You're—" he shrugs half heartedly and looks away. Zoro can't tell if the end of that sentence was going to disparage him or the cook. Odds are likely split down the middle. Sanji keeps looking at him, and he feels pinned. The bright look is gone, replaced by something more reserved but perhaps...searching? Considering, at the least. It's making him increasingly self conscious. He needs to get out of here.

"Okay. I'm gonna steal some alcohol now," he says shortly, striding to the cabinet and swiping a bottle before Sanji blinks out of his stupor.