#there was so much there to explore!!! and yet!!!

[tfwbluu]

PAIRING — ni-ki + f!reader

WARNINGS — best friends to lovers, riki’s experienced, he’s sweet but still a tease by heart, some begging, fingering, oral (f. rec), pet names, squirting.

WORDCOUNT — 1.2K

NOTE — my riks pussy eater agenda never ends . . sorry for leaving this on a slight cliffhanger >< perhaps i can make a part two if any of you are interested, lmk your thoughts thru my inbox or what not <3

“Ki, would it be weird for a girl not to squirt?” you asked suddenly, catching Riki completely off guard. He choked on his drink, coughing uncontrollably at your unexpected question. “SORRY!” you exclaimed, hurriedly patting his back as he tried to recover.

“You could’ve given me some warning,” he said, wiping his mouth as you sat on the bed, lips pouting.

“Why’d you ask?” he questioned, his brow raised, though it was clear he wasn’t entirely surprised by your curiosity.

“I mean… you’ve had experience with girls, right? Have you made them cum or, I don’t know, squirt before?” you asked hesitantly, your pout deepening as your cheeks flushed. Riki fought back the urge to lean in and kiss you right then but managed to keep his composure.

“Well,” he started, leaning back casually on his hands, “I have sex to enjoy myself and to give pleasure. So yeah, sometimes they do, sometimes they don’t. It depends on the person.”

You muttered under your breath, “Man, am I weird,” not realizing he heard you.

“Why would you be weird?” he asked, his gaze fixed on you, making you squeak as your face burned with embarrassment.

“N-nothing! It’s just a random thought,” you stammered, laughing nervously, but the way he looked at you told you he wasn’t buying it. Finally, you sighed in defeat.

“Okay, fine. All the times I’ve had sex with men, I’ve never cum… or squirted. Ever,” you admitted, your words spilling out before you could stop them. “And now, my friends keep talking about how amazing their sex lives are, and I feel like there’s something wrong with me because I’ve always had to fake it.”

Riki was silent for a moment before speaking bluntly. “That just means those men suck at pleasing women.”

Your eyes widened as he suddenly leaned closer, his hand gently holding your chin, tilting your face toward his. His dark eyes locked with yours.

“Want me to show you how it’s really done?” he asked, his voice low and steady, though the strain in his sweats betrayed how much he was holding back. The room grew quiet, the air charged with tension as you blinked at him, your heart racing. Finally, you managed to whisper, “P-please.”

That was all the confirmation he needed. Without hesitation, Riki closed the distance between you, his lips crashing into yours as he pulled you into his arms.

He pushed you back onto the bed, his hands roaming over your body before slipping beneath your shirt. A small whimper escaped your lips as your fingers tangled in his hair, giving it a light tug. Riki smirked at your reaction, his lips trailing down your skin before settling near your bottom half. Pausing, he looked up at you, silently seeking permission. You couldn’t trust your voice, so you simply nodded. With one smooth motion, he slid your pants and panties off, exposing you to his gaze. His hands spread your legs gently as he adjusted his position.

“Don’t think about me too much tonight, princess. This is all about you, okay?” he murmured, his voice soft yet commanding as his hands caressed your thighs. “Can I?”

“Y-yes,” you breathed out, a strangled moan escaping as his fingers finally explored your wet folds. He began rubbing slow, deliberate circles on your clit, coaxing more of your arousal to pool between your thighs.

“T-there’s lube in the drawer,” you whispered shakily.

“Okay, sweetheart. Let me prep you a bit, yeah?” he replied sweetly, leaning over to grab the bottle. After squirting some onto his fingers, he returned to you, his touch warm and careful.

Gently fondling your folds, he slid one finger inside, stretching you just enough before adding a second. His pace was slow, deliberate, each motion igniting waves of pleasure as his fingers worked you open. You sighed in relief, soft moans tumbling from your lips as he fucked you with precision.

“Feels nice?” he teased, his thumb now stroking your clit in time with his fingers. A high-pitched moan slipped out as your back arched.

“R-Riki~!” you whined, throwing your head back as the pleasure built.

“Such a pretty pussy,” he murmured, his voice filled with adoration and lust. “Gonna give it the love it deserves.”

With that, he leaned down, his lips finding your clit as his tongue replaced his thumb. His warm mouth suckled at the sensitive bud, his fingers never faltering in their steady rhythm.

A needy whimper escaped you at the added sensation, your hips stuttering against his face in an attempt to get more of him. The slow, deliberate pace felt maddening, your body trembling as the pleasure overwhelmed you. Riki simply chuckled against you, the vibration sending a fresh wave of heat coursing through your veins as he focused on drawing every ounce of pleasure from you.

“That’s it, pretty. Let go for me,” Riki murmured, pulling his fingers from your pussy before leaning down to give soft, kitten-like licks to your folds. His tongue teased you mercilessly, his lips suctioning onto your clit for just a moment before pulling away again. He repeated this agonizing rhythm, slow and deliberate, until your impatience boiled over.

“Riki…” you whined, your voice shaky and breathless.

“Hmm?” he hummed, feigning innocence as his slow, gentle touches continued, driving you to the brink.

“P-please,” you pleaded, looking down at him with desperate, glossy eyes. “Need more… just go faster, harder—I don’t care, just please.”

A devilish smirk played on his lips. “As you wish, princess,” he whispered, his voice laced with dark amusement. Without hesitation, he slid his fingers back inside you, this time pumping them faster and deeper. He curled them expertly, finding that spot that had your back arching off the bed, all while his tongue worked your clit with unrelenting precision.

High-pitched whimpers spilled from your lips, mingling with the lewd, obscene sounds of his fingers and mouth as they worked in perfect harmony. The room was filled with the slick echoes of your arousal and his focused attention, and it didn’t take long for an unfamiliar knot to tighten in your stomach.

“W-wait, Riki��!” you gasped shakily, the strange sensation growing too intense. But your protest only spurred him on. His fingers curled deeper, his tongue swirling faster as your body trembled beneath him.

And then it hit. The knot unraveled, snapping violently as your release gushed from you, soaking his lips and chin. You cried out, your body spasming uncontrollably as the pleasure overwhelmed you. Riki drank it up greedily, savoring every drop before planting one last, tender kiss on your folds.

Rising above you, he kissed your trembling lips, his smirk softening as he wiped a strand of hair from your damp forehead. “Well, there you have it,” he said with a satisfied grin. “You’re not weird, princess. You just needed the right man to give you the right treatment.”

You blinked up at him, still delirious from your high. “Y-yeah… um,” you mumbled, your mind struggling to catch up with what had just happened.

He chuckled, brushing a thumb against your cheek. “Don’t worry, angel. If you want to return the favor, I’m all for it—but only if you’re ready. No pressure.”

“Let me help you too, please?” you whispered, your wide, pleading eyes meeting his.

Riki cursed under his breath, his resolve nearly crumbling. “Fuck, you’re so cute,” he muttered before pulling off his shirt. He adjusted your position beneath him, the warmth of his skin pressing against yours.

“Just know I won’t be able to stop, princess,” he warned, his voice a low growl as his lips brushed against yours. “Hope you’re ready.”

PERM TAG LIST — @bussolares @rikiives @contyynishimura @aanniikkaa @lilmarsh-t

[lowkeycasanova]

but she told me i can nail her sh*t

zoro x afab!reader

warning: smut

He licked his lips, panting and letting his head fall back. Eyes fluttering and jaw tight as you bounced your ass on him, his cock rock-hard inside of you.

"Damn" you heard his whisper. As you continued to ride him, he let out a grunt from deep within his throat. You smiled, as you loved when he was even the slightest bit vocal, giving you reassurance and confidence.

His large hands found their way to your thighs, then hips, then slightly cupped your ass, around your back, and up your waist and ribcage. Zoro was obsessed with how your body felt and wanted to explore...caress every inch.

For a while, he complied, letting you do all the work at your own pace. The tension in his muscles betrayed him from how much he wanted to move. And maybe it was the way you tugged his hair or the deliberate roll of your hips against his, but his patience snapped. With a low growl, his hands gripped your waist firmly. Before you could react, he shifted beneath you, lifting you up and bending his knees so that he could buck his hips properly.

You gasped, your body tense for a moment as you were surprised with the sudden change.

"My turn." he said, his voice low and rough with a smirk tugging at his lips. There was a fire in his gaze and you felt something pulsate between your thighs. Your control had been thrilling but now it was time for him to take over.

He begins to fuck you. Hard. His momentum starting of fast and then stabilizing. The sound of skin slapping and your little yelps was almost enough to get him off right then and there. Your breast bounce in his face like they're begging for attention. After a few moments, he sets you back down so you two can gain control of your breathing. You let out a small laugh through your thin breaths, fluttering around him, and just as it begins to even out, his hips are bucking you upwards again. His stamina is something to be reckoned with.

His hands move all the way up to your jaw this time, cupping your cheeks as he rails you. It feels so good. He feels so good but you're like putty in his hands. Your hips seemed to have locked up due to the pressure so you can't do anything but take it.

His hips jerk into you over and over and with every pump, you hiccup a half moan. Your hands move to hold his wrists as his hands still cup your face. He feels a flash of arousal knowing that you're just barely hanging on for the ride.

He's looking at you just before he comes, your jaw clenched but muttering a 'please' and 'zoro' here and there.

He's panting hard and drops his head back as he releases. It feels like euphoria. His heart beat hammers until it begins to slow. There's a ruggedness in your eyes and hair that makes him proud. Your thighs are too weak to even dismount from him. His hands go from your cheeks to your arms as he leans forward to kiss you.

****

Sanji’s voice broke through the quiet air on the deck. Zoro peeked through his eyes. His arms were crossed behind his head and his back against the mast as he watched Sanji approach you with a tray in hand, holding drinks. His grin stretched from ear to ear, and his eyes sparkled as he basked in your presence.

The exchange played out like a scene Zoro had seen many times before. Even after handing you the drink, Sanji lingered. All that flair. Such a try hard and you don’t even give him a second glance. Not that you were unkind- far from it. You always smiled, said thank you. It was always genuine.

Zoro didn’t hear all of what was said but he did catch the romantic undertone in the way Sanji said “I hope it pleases you” when referring to the beverage. Zoro tried to stifle a laugh but was unsuccessful as your eyes darted to him from behind Sanji. A faint twitch of amusement in your expression even when he tried to play it off.

Zoro was always giving Sanji a number.

“Number seven.”

“Fourth placer.”

Provoking the blonde cook filled him with subtle yet undeniable satisfaction. And last night, among the many shared nights, further convinced him that there, in fact, was a hierarchy between the two men.

If Sanji had even the slightest idea of what was going on between you and Zoro, he’d have an outburst, quite literally bursting into flames, and throwing some indignant response in Zoro’s direction.

You reminded Zoro of where he stood. It didn’t matter what Sanji did. You already made your choice.

[echo-riot]

Posting somthing that isn’t sevika???? Unheard of

Anyways-

VI DATING HEADCANONS + a Cute Drabble

Vi is naturally protective of her girl. Whether you’re in Piltover or Zaun, she insists on walking you home, her arm wrapped securely around your waist. If anyone so much as looks at you wrong, she’ll shoot them a death glare—or worse.

Vi is incredibly touchy. She loves holding your hand, resting her chin on your shoulder, or pulling you into a hug from behind. Her love language is physical touch, and she craves that connection constantly.

Vi shows her love through actions. She’ll fix things around your place, bring you your favorite snack, or leave her jacket draped over your shoulders when you’re cold.

Vi loves simple dates—grabbing greasy food from street vendors, exploring Zaun’s markets, or sparring with you just for fun. But she’ll also surprise you with occasional grand gestures, like taking you to a rooftop to watch the city lights.

Vi tries to play it cool, but she’s easily jealous. If someone flirts with you, she’ll wrap an arm around your waist and kiss your temple, making it crystal clear you’re hers

She doesn’t care much about social norms or what others think. If someone makes a snide comment about you, she won’t hesitate to step in, fists clenched and ready to defend you

While she loves teasing, Vi has a soft spot for calling you endearing names when it’s just the two of you—“baby,” “love,” or even a unique nickname tied to an inside joke. She tries out the weirdest nicknames for you too, ranging from “Snuggle Punch” to “Hot Pocket.” The worst part? She says them with complete sincerity. You had to veto “Big Toe”

Vi has exactly three cooking settings: “burnt,” “raw,” and “how is the fire alarm not going off yet?” Every date night she insists she’ll “nail it this time,” and every date night ends with takeout and her swearing vengeance on your oven.

She constantly tries to convince you that chips and energy drinks are a balanced meal. If you so much as suggest eating a vegetable, she’ll dramatically gag and say, “I didn’t survive the Lanes to die of kale poisoning, babe.”

Vi sucks at being low-key when she’s plotting a surprise for you. She’ll come back from shopping with a giant bag, shove it behind her back, and loudly declare, “You didn’t see anything! Nope, definitely not a gift for you in here!”

If you work out together, Vi’s that girlfriend who slaps your back and yells, “ONE MORE REP, BABE!” like she’s training you for the Zaunite Olympics. But the second you spot her doing squats, she’s flexing and asking if you’re checking her out.

She has zero chill when someone flirts with you. She’ll immediately put on her gauntlets (if she has them nearby) or crack her knuckles and stare the poor soul down while saying, “What part of ‘taken’ did you miss, buddy?”

Vi has horrendous taste in movies and insists on watching the cheesiest action flicks with you. She’ll quote every single bad one-liner like it’s gospel and randomly yell, “EXPLOSIONS!” during quiet scenes.

Vi is the queen of spontaneous dumb ideas. “Babe, let’s wrestle.” “Babe, I think we should dye your hair pink.” “Babe, dare me to jump over that fence.” (Spoiler: she’ll do it whether or not you dare her.)

Vi texts like she’s trying to solve a riddle, constantly sending random emojis that make no sense. “🏴‍☠️🥊🔥🦖” somehow translates to, “I’m at the gym, love you, want pizza later?”

Vi snores. Loudly. And if you try to wake her up, she’ll grumble something like, “Shut up, babe. I’m fighting shimmer thugs in my dream.” She also steals all the blankets and leaves you clinging to the corner of the bed like it’s a survival raft.

If she gets the tiniest injury, she’ll act like she’s on her deathbed. “Babe, I think my pinky’s broken. You might need to kiss it better. No, wait, kiss my whole hand. Actually, better make it both hands—just in case.” (Only for you though.)

Vi loves hitting you with the dumbest pickup lines imaginable. “Are you shimmer? ‘Cause you’ve got me addicted, babe.” She’ll then smirk like she’s the smoothest person alive.

————————————————————————____________________________________________

You sat at a table in the corner of The Last Drop, sipping on your drink while Vi sulked dramatically next to you. She had her chin propped on her hand, eyes darting to a group across the room. You followed her gaze to a couple of young women laughing and glancing in your direction.

“Vi, they’re not even looking at me anymore,” you whispered, trying not to laugh.

“Oh, they were looking, alright,” Vi grumbled, narrowing her eyes. “I saw it. That one in the green? She was trying to undress you with her eyes. And not even subtly.”

You rolled your eyes. “They were probably just curious about your big, scary gauntlets. Or the fact that you stomped in here like you own the place.”

“I do own the place when I’m with you,” she said, dead serious. Then she grabbed your hand and laced her fingers through yours. “Look. If anyone tries anything, I’ll break their noses. Just blink twice if I need to go over there.”

“Vi,” you said, squeezing her hand, “no one’s coming over here. And if they do, I can handle myself.”

She glanced at you, clearly skeptical. “Babe, I love you, but you once tripped over your own feet walking to the kitchen.”

You burst out laughing, making her smirk.

“Oh, you think I’m funny?” she teased, leaning closer until her face was inches from yours. “What’s funny is the fact that you can’t stop thinking about me.”

“Oh yeah?” you said, leaning back with a grin. “You’re so cocky. What would you do if I wasn’t thinking about you?”

Vi’s expression turned mock-serious. “I’d probably throw myself into the Hexgate,” she deadpanned. “Start a new life on the other side of the world.”

You snorted. “And then what? Punch your way back to zaun?”

“Damn right,” she said, sitting up straight and puffing out her chest. “No one gets to steal my girl’s attention. Not even a Hexgate.”

Despite her ridiculous antics, her thumb gently traced circles over your hand, grounding you in the little moment you shared. You leaned into her side, your laughter dying into a soft smile.

“You’re an idiot,” you murmured.

“And you’re stuck with me,” she shot back, pressing a quick kiss to your temple.

Yeah, you were stuck with her. But with Vi, life was never boring—and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

[grimmcheems]

Do you think she ever thinks about how she never got to see her found family again?💣🐰

💣“Hey! I know this grumpy lady who’ll let us crash, she’s mean but she’s cool once you get to know her.”

⚙️🎰“I never liked her much since we met, but I prefer the racket she caused everywhere she went to the silence that befalls the air vents in The Last Drop.”

It was rly hard trying to mimic/get the style of the show down for this, I didn’t draw it how I usually do bc I feel like the stylization gives it life compared to my regular style. Other than that 🗣️🗣️I LOVE YOU SEVIKA🗣️🗣️🙏🏽😭🎀💖

(Spoilers‼️⚠️⬇️)

I have so many other arcane arts but this is one of the few I’ve managed to finish. I wonder if anyone bothered to tell Sevika about Jinx and Isha?!😭like please. She was such an unwilling aunt to Jinx and cared about the two overtime. I refuse to believe she wouldn’t be devastated. She watched her grow up from a little girl to a destructive teen to a revolutionary, there’s no way she wouldn’t have any reaction to finding out they’re gone. :(

Ignore the fact that ishas body is missing🗿👩🏽‍🦯

I have other parts to this art that explore that but not finished yet. I also have arts of the twinks in the show bc I was on my knees fr, not even…. Like HEAR ME OUT: HUCK AND SALO?!?!🙏🏽😭🫶🏽💖🤭😔👩🏽‍🦯😳🥺🗿please, I wish they had more scenes.

[wren-kitchens]

i could never let you know

1240 words

it takes a long moment for etho to realise that he’s awake, and longer still for him to notice that the ship is still far too dark for it to be morning. in all honesty, he just wants to close his eyes and go back to sleep, and he almost does until he notices some kind of noise from beside him- somewhat akin to whispering. is that joel? etho lays still for a moment, trying to listen to what the sound actually is before he moves—if it is joel, he doesn’t want to spook him or something. which- he’s not a horse or anything, but still. he can be jumpy. 

[part 1] [part 2] [part 3 - you are here!]

they mean so much to me

it takes a long moment for etho to realise that he’s awake, and longer still for him to notice that the ship is still far too dark for it to be morning. in all honesty, he just wants to close his eyes and go back to sleep, and he almost does until he notices some kind of noise from beside him- somewhat akin to whispering. is that joel? etho lays still for a moment, trying to listen to what the sound actually is before he moves—if it is joel, he doesn’t want to spook him or something. which- he’s not a horse or anything, but still. he can be jumpy. 

against the muffled pillager grunts and soft wind from outside, etho can just about make out joel's muttering- frantic and barely audible, "he’s still here- he’s not gone, he’s still- he’s still here-"

"joel?" etho mumbles, voice gravelly. the muttering stops at once, accompanied by a half-aborted gasp, and etho pushes himself up. "I- are you okay?"

joel is sat upright, knees pulled to his chest, staring at etho with a kind of intensity he would expect from a cornered prey animal. something aches in etho's chest to see him this way- that confident, smug bastard. this- this shouldn’t be possible, let alone allowed. "i’m- it's- i'm okay." he says, far too hurriedly. "don't- I just- nightmare. it's nothing, i’m-"

"i’m not gonna- I won't judge you, or anything." etho says, in some attempt to reassure him. it doesn't seem to work- not that he’s enormously surprised, but he can’t stand the way joel looks right now. he has to fix it somehow. 

joel begins to ramble some- obvious cover up, about how he was dreaming of being in a room with a bunch of chickens, and etho's mind races to find some kind of way to help. in a slightly desperate move, etho tentatively reaches a hand up with the intention of cupping joel's cheek. joel hesitates, stopping mid-sentence to eye etho's hand with a kind of nervousness that etho recognises all too well. something in etho's chest aches, and he realises that it's joel's pain. 

"I- can I?" etho asks, barely a whisper. it's as if his heart has stopped beating. 

there's a stretch of silence in which etho begins to wonder if he’s ever going to live this down when joel is back to himself again. he almost backs down, but joel gives the most minute of nods, and etho feels his own breath stutter as joel leans against his palm, tearing up.

"why?" his voice is ragged, and etho is struck with a wave of protectiveness that he hasn't felt before. 

etho takes a breath, because he's pretty sure he’s on the verge of tears too right now. "I- I don't know." he says honestly.

joel blinks, and tears fall from his eyes. he sniffs, pulling back to wipe his face, and etho mourns the loss as he lets his hand fall back against the bed. "look, I- it's nothing. I didn’t- didn’t mean to wake you, I-"

without thinking, etho pushes himself forward on the bed and wraps his arms around joel, starting to believe that he truly will never get joel to shut up about this. maybe he doesn't care. in fact- he definitely doesn't care, because joel exhales shakily and sinks into etho, and there's no way he'd give this up for a stupid thing like his dignity. 

joel's shoulders still feel tense, even as he lets himself be hugged, and etho has the impulse to rub his back until he softens. he doesn't- he’s not sure if that'd be an awful idea or not. this is all so confusing- there's always been this kind of.. unspoken boundary between them, that they've undoubtedly just broken. etho isn’t quite sure why it means so much to see joel upset or why joel looked so- scared of letting etho touch him, when he so clearly appreciates it. he’s not sure where this leaves them. 

"this- this is stupid." joel mumbles, thick with emotion still, but he doesn’t make any moves to let go. 

"why's that?" etho says, and he’s surprised to hear how soft his voice has become. 

joel gives a little scoff, and etho can almost see the expression he has on his face right now—tearful but exasperated at nothing in particular. "I just- i’m not a child. I shouldn’t- this is all just-" he huffs, apparently not finding the right words. "it's stupid."

"I don't think it's stupid." is all etho can think to say, because- well, he doesn't. he rubs a thumb against joel's hoodie, who gives an almost inaudible sigh. 

"well. you’re stupid then." joel says, and there's a note of humour to it that etho can't help but relish. 

etho laughs quietly, and joel seems to relax a little more against him. "i’m- i’m okay with that."

there's a pause, and etho can feel joel beginning to relax ever so slightly into him, and- it- to be honest, etho kinda loves it. just- just because it means joel is feeling better, not- etho doesn’t necessarily wantjoel to hug him, it- it's just evidence that joel is opening up. yeah. 

"um. I might fall asleep on you." joel mumbles, and etho finds himself thinking that maybe that wouldn't be so bad before he can stop himself. 

"do you want to lie down?" etho says. joel doesn’t say anything for a longer moment than etho anticipated, and he wonders if he has somehow already dozed off. "I- joel?"

joel gives a quiet hum of acknowledgment. "I- yeah, I probably should." 

etho stifles a laugh as joel stays completely still. "you- are you gonna?" he grins. 

"probably not." joel says, and etho does laugh this time. he shifts slightly, and etho realises that he’s trying to get more comfortable whilst falling asleep upright and leaning against etho. 

"i'll- we can, y’know- we can do this and be lying down." etho tells him, suddenly a bit embarrassed now the situation is less dire. "probably more comfortable."

joel sighs, and pulls back a little. "fine." 

etho lays down and watches as joel makes a face like he’s trying to convince himself to do something- which is a little funny. after a moment, joel huffs, and settles against etho's chest, as if he were a pillow- which is.. not something etho can put into words, actually. etho puts his arms around joel almost hesitantly, mind reeling ever so slightly as the tension finally seeps from joel's shoulders.

"yeah, this is more comfortable." joel's voice is low and gravelly with tiredness, and it somehow feels more intimate to hear it than- whatever it is they’re doing right now. there's a kind of nervousness in etho's throat and he's going to pretend it's just joel's. "you’re.. a good pillow."

there's a bizarre impulse to press a kiss to the top of joel's head, and etho swallows it as he closes his eyes (not quite managing to suppress the smile that makes its way onto his face). "i’m gonna take that as a compliment."

joel hums sleepily, and within minutes, etho can hear his breath even out into the way it sounds when he’s asleep. with joel's warmth and the rhythmic way he breathes, it doesn’t take very long for etho to follow suit. 

and etho- he hopes this.. becomes a little more frequent. 

[maruflix]

05: how much i like you ⎯⎯ prev | masterlist

you are a promising new member of the third division who, for some reason, is always given a hard time by your vice-captain. to vent your frustrations you decide to reply to a twitter fanbase’s anonymous confession, only to find out that your post was not so anonymous after all...?!

Soshiro couldn’t believe his eyes.

His trembling hands almost dropped the phone when he hears three sharp knocks on his bedroom door, followed by a voice he knows all too well.

“Vice Captain? Sorry to bother you..”

Your voice is muffled slightly as he scrambles to his door, heart thundering against his ribcage, the realization finally dawning upon him. You’re actually here to see him.

You. The person he spent months pining, daydreaming— it’s not fair, you invade all his dreams, you won’t even let him sleep in peace.

“Vice Captain, are you there? Huh, I guess he’s asleep..”

Soshiro immediately slams his bedroom door open, revealing you, standing in front of his door with a shocked expression. “Uh— ’m still awake. Hi, Y/N.”

For a moment, the two of you stood in silence, blushing scarlet.

“So...” you start, glancing up to sneak a peek at him. “you weren’t kidding, huh? You really l-like me?”

Soshiro raises his head and shifts his weight on one leg. You make him feel so self-conscious. He wonders if he looks okay with just a shirt and his uniform pants on. His hair is already messy— why did you have to come at such an hour?

“If you want to hear me make a fool of myself, come inside. I’ll be glad to tell you just how much I like you.”

You blink furiously, cheeks warm at the invitation.

The answer is obvious: you step inside his room, greeted by the warm air of his heater. Stacks upon stacks upon stacks of books litter his desk, papers folded neatly. His uniform jacket is splayed over his chair.

Soshiro closes the door with a click and you’re suddenly aware of the fact that it’s just the two of you together in one small room.

“I’ve been... quite childish, I admit.” Soshiro is oblivious to your flustered state, “I apologize. I shouldn’t have been such an intolerable pain in the ass. Looking back, I guess it wasn’t the best way to get your attention in the way I intended...”

His apology seems so clumsy and yet so well thought out, like he’s practiced it several times. You can’t believe that the great Hoshina Soshiro is actually fidgeting nervously in front of you.

“I’ve already forgiven you.” Smiling, you bravely reach for his hand, giving them a gentle squeeze.

Soshiro’s eyes shot up to meet yours, gleaming in surprise.

“I would be lying if I said I didn’t also have a tiny crush on you, because I do.” You ramble on, ”Okay, it’s actually a pretty huge crush. I have a huge crush on you.”

Soshiro couldn’t believe his ears. His hands tremble once more, squeezing yours with equal ferocity, rubbing circles on the base of your thumb. “You do?”

You giggle and nod. “Mhm.”

He pulls you into a hug, engulfing you in the scent of his cologne. He’s breathless when he buries his blushing face in your hair. “You do.”

Gently, his hands rest on your waist as he looks down at your smiling face.

You inch yourself higher, inviting him for a kiss.

And he kisses you on the lips, deeply, backing you to his bed to push you down. His hands are tangled up in your locks, bringing you closer to him. He tastes sweet, his tongue exploring every crevice of your mouth.

Your own hands make their way to his hair, tugging on them playfully. He groans, pulling away to give you a wolfish grin. Smiling, you peck his cheek. “So.. how much do you really like me? Because Narumi Gen told me you’re absolutely lovesick.”

Soshiro raised an eyebrow before biting your neck playfully, eliciting a surprised yelp from you. “Don’t say another guy’s name in my presence. As for how much I like you...” his hands wander further down, eyes twinkling up to you mischievously, “how about I show you?”

note: thank you for reading my first smau series! it’s been a good run, see you in the next one 🫡

taglist: @o-sachi, @iamjellyfish, @vashyuu, @yuudofu, @moon-cakiie, @17020 @nyxypoo @kichiyosh1 @lunavixia @ryescapades @er1kaaaaa @swivi @lumiambrose @equkki @kaoiyeva @tsubaki3192 @riceballsandanime @hibiscy @theauthorunicorn @4acoffee @sunarins @lxkeeeee @kimsangie @queencybow

←　wrong account　╱　hoshina soshiro

[your-nanas-house]

Cillian murphy x fem!reader

The reader's aunt is going to a honeymoon with her husband for two weeks, so she leaves her 10 months old baby with her niece and her boyfriend cillian

And cillian is INLOVE with that baby, and he keeps saying he wishes he could give you one until he tries to

Fluff and smut plss🥹

Sure thing!!! Sorry it took me so long 😭 very unique idea btw. 🙇🏼‍♀️

Baby fever

◇ Pairing: Cillian Murphy X girlfriend/fiancè!Reader

◇ Warnings: smut (Cillian cums too fast), mention of pregnancy and baby fever, babysitting, both off age, fluff

◇ Summary: You and Cillian babysit your baby cousin and your amazing boyfriend gets baby fever.

◇ Note: Sorry for the mistakes and the English. Shitty writing... sorry about that, I'm still trying to "get my mind back in the writing".

"I really wish for us to have one too" the so unexpected and sudden sentence left Cillian's lips a quiet evening.

You've been busy taking care of your cousin, since your so kind aunt left you to babysit him during her honeymoon. A baby, a 10 months and some weeks old baby, dropped in your care at your door with some begging and thanking.

It has been just some weeks since your not-paid job began, and ignoring the first days of struggling, you and your boyfriend, Cillian, took the new routine strangely well. Adapting well to the new schedules and cries and needs that a baby could have.

A few days and you both were smitten; that baby had you really wrapped around his little, chubby finger.... and he didn't even know it yet. Everything about babysitting made you wish for it to never end, even the random tantrums or the diaper moments.

You had been sitting on the sofa, your baby cousin asleep in his crib in the other room as you cuddled with Cillian. The TV off. You had been just enjoying your small moment of silence and intimacy when that sentence slipped from his lips:

"I really wish for us to have one too" your mind froze, slowly taking in every since word your boyfriend just said.

"I don't wanna rush things or put any pressure on you, love... but we've been together since years now and this weeks with your baby cousin made me realize how ready I am to take... any further steps in our relationship" he continued after a moment of silence, you could tell he was pondering about it carefully by the way his gaze remained focused on a spot and his eyebrows slightly raised

"Plus I might have what they call baby fever" he added in a weaker tone to lighten up the mood... and it worked. You didn't let him add anything else not wanting him to think you weren't on his same page

"I think so too... I mean we are about to get married and I just love you so much. Plus we don't know if it will work right away" you commented in a shy but earger voice, glancing at him as if it was your first time having sex... asking for it.

"Yeah?" Cillian asked after your answer, his light blue eyes finally looking at you with hope and love, making your heart skip a beat

"Yeah" you replied in a softer tone, taking his face in your hands to bring him in a needy kiss.

Soft noises of approval kept living your mouth as his soft lips trailed a path down your neck to your chest; his warm tongue draw shapes on your skin while his slender fingers in quick motions, finally, removed the layers of clothes.

"I love you" your eyes met as you caressed Cillian's pale and flushed skin up to his messy hair as soon as your kiss broke. Your breaths became one and your chests moved together, brushing against each other.

His cock was already painfully hard, resting against his stomach and leaking precum; it just needed a couple of strokes, and it got fully ready. His other hand worked your clit, his index finger explored your cunt, adding in no time another finger

"Yes, yes!" You whimpered out, your body shaking in pure pleasure.

The intimacy of the moment made it feel even more intense, forcing you to hold back moans, limiting them to heavy breaths and soft praises.

It felt so right and so good. You hoped it would never end.

Your mouth connected again, sharing the same passion; your hearts nearly beating in sync. You just needed one more thing.... his cock finally inside of you, stretching you out like only Cillian could do and bring you to feel— not exactly what you expected.

As your mind focused and dreamed about the imminent pleasure, it didn't register the warm feeling of his cum shooting in. It was just when his cock started to soften that you finally realized

"I'm so sorry, love. I was bit too excited—" Cillian voice interrupted the silence, his pale face flushed in embarrassment and bit of shame

".... I make it up to you" he added quickly while already trying to move down your body to finish you off with his tongue, but without succeeding since your legs had his hips caged in a iron grip

"Don't you dare move, Cilly. Stay inside... We can always try tomorrow and you can make it up then"

[gerbithats]

Absolutely everything I want to see for the next few years of The Sims 4: an extensive and giant list to check back in the next few years

update wishes:

UI update (even on CAS, why are we at 2 columns by default yet with so many packs released)

wants and fears system better connected with traits and aspirations

aspiration overhaul

plantsim overhaul

mermaids overhaul

new textures for the leaves on the ground during autumn in seasons (ik this is very specific but it bugs me so much)

collections like sims 2

riskier fires

animated elevators

disabilities

allergies

living in the same lot as a business

picture frames out of screenshots

overall wishes:

less rabbitholes

better animations for the little things (pulling a chair while sitting down, entering the elevator instead of vanishing, etc)

sims to react better to what is currently happening (standing up for wedding entrances, looking at eachother while sat, stuff like that)

new features wishes:

create a world

fairies

hobbies as a system with new features (ballet, karate classes and kites for kids, skateboarding for teens, dance classes and pottery for adults, bingo for elders, etc)

hotels and resorts where you can also run your own hotel

cars.......... fixer uppers, school buses, taxis

driving lessons, bus passes, etc

on stage: bands (with new instruments), magic shows, kids recitals, concerts and music festivals

bands to be able to host auditions, set rehearsals, go to the recording studio, sell merch, go on tour

a sports pack: separated skills with new kinds of sports: gym equipment, soccer, volleyball, golfing (with retrocompatibility with high school years and university)

parks stuff: for kids: see-saw, roundabout, bouncy castles, trampolines, merry-go-round for older sims: fun-houses, roller coasters, ridable ferris wheels, target shooting

a time travel pack: travel to the past and end up in strangetown of the sims 2 timeline or to the future and go to a dystopian world with ZOMBIES

zombies!!!! (with compatibility with life & death, with a grim phone like the one in sims 2 or something)

underwater exploration (with smntg fixed to give new features to mermaids and island living)

imaginary friends

a travel based exploration pack, like world adventures and bon voyage

more interactive museums 'cause i wanna live my animal crossing fantasies

more playable careers

burglars

an alien world based on sixam

summer camp with lots of new activities (archery, log rolling, canoeing)

supermarkets and grocery stores (or maybe even drugstores)

this thing

[callmemonster68]

SUNOO - God of Love

A deity meant to influence the hearts of others but ultimately succumbing to his own feelings and desires.

Pairing: Sunoo, a deity X FemReader

Genre: Obscenity

Warning: Contains explicit content, unprotected sex, suggestive, penetration, explicit language, climax, sex, swearing, loss of virginity, hickeys, messy make-out sessions, dirty talk, compliments, rough sex, touching bruises, handcuffs, chains, sadomasochism , masochism, brands

Note: I'm recently starting to write, and English is not my native language. I apologize for any mistakes and hope to improve my writing. Feedback is always welcome!

In the ethereal realm where gods danced among the stars, the God of Love, Sunoo, stood as the guardian of passionate hearts. His gentle touch could unite souls, but in a moment of vulnerability, he found himself drawn to a mortal—an artist who captured the beauty of the world on her canvas. What should have remained a forbidden love spiraled into an all-consuming desire.

Sunoo: “You don’t understand—you shouldn’t be here. I am the God of Love, and you… you’re just a woman.”

Y/N: “Just a woman? Sunoo, you see me, you desire me. You feel what I feel. This isn’t just a whim—it’s real.”

Sunoo: “But what does this mean for us? I can’t… I shouldn’t give in to this desire.”

Y/N: “And if love is the only truth that matters? Let me show you what it means to be loved like a god.”

Sunoo: “And what if I lose myself in you? What if the love I give to others fades, leaving only pain?”

Y/N: “Then let’s lose ourselves together. Let the world witness the God of Love surrendering to his own heart and lust.”

Sunoo: “Then so be it. Let this forbidden desire consume us.”

---------- Time Skip ----------

A cozy mountain cabin. A fire crackles softly, casting dancing shadows across the wooden walls. A snowstorm whispers outside, but inside, the atmosphere is warm and intimate. In the center of the room, the God of Love and the mortal sit on the floor atop a plush rug, surrounded by pillows. His golden wings glimmer in the firelight, and his eyes shine with a mix of shyness and longing.

Sunoo: “You’re more beautiful than any soul I’ve ever seen… and believe me, I’ve seen many.”

Y/N: “You say that because it’s in your nature to make people fall in love. Am I just another mission to you?”

Sunoo: “My arrows have never struck me before. But with you… it feels like fate itself is playing tricks on me.”

Y/N: “And what if this is wrong? If you belong to a world I can never touch?”

Sunoo: “Perhaps my place is no longer among the cupids. Perhaps it’s here, with you.”

Y/N: “Would you risk everything for me?”

Sunoo: “For this heart? For this soul? I would risk it all.”

They linger in the moment, a silence heavy with emotion. Then, slowly, she leans in and kisses him. His wings fold around her like a protective cocoon as the firelight casts a gentle glow over them, creating an atmosphere of passion and surrender.

He smiles shyly, brushing his fingers against her face. Their kiss deepens, filled with both passion and tenderness. His hands explore her body carefully, as though she were something precious.

Sunoo’s touch is gentle yet possessive, a perfect balance of warmth and softness. As their bodies press closer, Y/N feels the heat radiating from him, a reminder of the magic coursing through his veins.

In one swift yet delicate motion, Y/N straddles Sunoo. He watches her, his eyes alight with desire. Every movement of hers drives him wild. Sunoo has never wanted anything as much as he wants to be inside her, to become one with her, but his inexperience leaves him hesitant. Sensing his insecurity, Y/N feels the need to reassure him.

Y/N: “Don’t be afraid, my cupid. I’ll guide us. All you need to do is trust me and allow yourself to feel these new sensations.”

Sunoo: “I trust you. Please… make me yours. Take my innocence. Use me.”

This was the moment Y/N had been waiting for—his confirmation, the carnal desire reflected in Sunoo’s eyes. With that, she began placing slow, lingering kisses along his jaw, trailing down to his neck, where she lingered, reveling in the effect it had on him. His whimpering moans only fueled her, and she left gentle bites along his skin.

While she lavished his neck with attention, she unbuttoned his shirt, slipping it off slowly. Sunoo was a masterpiece that no mortal could ever describe—a vision of purity overcome by waves of pleasure. His closed eyes, flushed cheeks, and swollen lips made him appear even more divine.

Y/N: “You’re heavenly. I’m certain that after this, I’ll never be allowed into heaven. What I’m about to do will send me straight to hell, but I’ll go willingly.”

Sunoo couldn’t form a response, lost in the storm of sensations coursing through him. Y/N shifted slightly, repositioning herself. Her hands on his bare chest moved slowly at first, then began to squeeze, her nails raking over his sensitive skin, leaving red marks in their wake. Sunoo seemed to enjoy the stinging sensation; his hard cock strained against his black slacks, desperate for release.

Sunoo: “My lady… I can’t take it anymore. I need you to… to touch me.”

Y/N: “Are my touches not enough? Are you a desperate little slut?”

The filthy insinuation in her tone, paired with her teasing gaze, nearly made Sunoo come undone in his pants.

Y/N: “If you want it so badly, show me where you want me to touch you. Be good for me and beg.”

Setting his shame aside and completely overtaken by desire, Sunoo grabbed Y/N’s hand and placed it over his clothed cock.

Sunoo: “Please, my lady, I need you to touch me here. I can’t endure it anymore.”

Wasting no time, Y/N unzipped his pants, pulling them down in one swift motion along with his underwear. Sunoo’s cock sprang free, accompanied by a moan of relief. Y/N licked her lips, admiring its form—it was as perfect as she’d imagined. Of course, it was; he was Sunoo, the great God of Love, who could easily be the God of Perfection.

She took him fully into her mouth, her lips sliding up and down his hard length as obscene sounds filled the room. Looking up, Y/N caught the perfect image of Sunoo—his eyes closed, mouth slightly open, saliva dripping at the corners as he lost himself in ecstasy.

Within moments, Sunoo came in her mouth, and Y/N swallowed eagerly. Without hesitation, she repositioned herself, aligning Sunoo’s cock with her dripping entrance, ready to finally feel him inside her.

Y/N: “I’ll squeeze you dry and milk every drop from you, and you’ll be an endlessly grateful little slut for me.”

Without warning, Y/N lowered herself, her sticky walls enveloping and crushing Sunoo’s aching cock. Both let out loud moans, creating a melody of their own as their bodies moved in perfect harmony. There was a balance between passion and lust, a connection that transcended the physical.

Y/N grabbed Sunoo’s hair forcefully, pulling him to maintain eye contact as she rode his cock with unrelenting vigor, moving at an almost unreal rhythm. Shivers ran through Sunoo’s entire body, causing his wings to quiver down to the last feather.

Sunoo: “Please, wait… don’t move—I want to last longer, but it’s too much. I can’t take it.”

Y/N: “Don’t worry. Come whenever you’re ready. Fill me up, mark me as yours, and don’t hold back.”

With that, after a few more thrusts, Sunoo came hard, gripping Y/N’s waist tightly with both hands. But Y/N showed no mercy, continuing to ride him with relentless energy. Tears formed in Sunoo’s eyes, overwhelmed by the intensity of it all.

Y/N: “I cried, I begged, and now I’ll use you until I’m satisfied. There’s no escape anymore.”

Despite being completely spent, Sunoo nodded, straightening his posture as he watched Y/N rise and fall on his cock. The wet sounds, the way Y/N bit her lips, lost in ecstasy, consumed him. It was painful, but it was the most fulfilling and magnificent pain he had ever imagined.

Some time later, Y/N reached her climax—the most incredible orgasm she had ever experienced. Still in the same position, she rested her forehead against Sunoo’s, their sweat mixing as they tried to steady their erratic breathing. Everything felt perfect—both heavenly and sinful in equal measure.

As Sunoo and Y/N rested, a shadow crept into the cabin. It was Shadow, the God of Forgetfulness, his dark smile piercing through the moment.

Shadow: “Sunoo, by loving as a mortal, you have broken the divine laws. Now, you will pay the price.”

Sunoo wrapped his wings protectively around Y/N.

Sunoo: “Take me, but spare her!”

Shadow: “You are bound together. One’s fate belongs to the other.”

With a wave of his hand, Shadow engulfed them in darkness. The cabin collapsed, and Sunoo felt his divine power slipping away. He was no longer a God.

This story is part of the universe of ' Divine Sins: Immortal Fantasies with ENHYPEN ' created by me.Description:Seven sensual and mysterious tales that delve into the desires between mortals and immortals. Inspired by the members of ENHYPEN, these stories reimagine the group as powerful gods and a fallen angel, all wickedly alluring and irresistibly seductive. Each narrative immerses readers in a world of fantasy, unveiling forbidden passions, divine secrets, and the overwhelming intensity that sparks between celestial beings and an ordinary human. A universe brimming with lust, mystery, and the captivating allure of the forbidden, where every story is an invitation to desire. Contains mature content.

✿ If you don't reblog and comment, you can be sure I'll be showing up in your dreams tonight... and I won’t be as sweet as in the story ✿

[buckets-and-trees]

Oh, I'm so pleased that you like this Bucky! (I think you like him?) Because this. Bucky. is. so. fascinating. to me! I haven't written/spent as much time creating for him yet, but the fictional men in my muse's library who haunt me incessantly while I'm thinking over plots and stories are Cedar Trees Steve, Exiled Nomad, IYM Andy, and this Alpha Bucky! Because his intelligence, his calculating nature, his alphaness... they're spinning together in a specific way I haven't played with before - he's got shades of some of the themes I like, but this is Mean Alpha Bucky.

OMEGAVERSE BONDS! OMEGAVERSE BONDS! They're one of the things I love to see explored! They're physical and a vulnerability (for better and for worse) and they're so powerful. I can't wait to show more as the story develops...

And that line. 😏

😏

[INSERT EVEN BIGGER SMIRK EMOJI]

EVA! I scribbled down that line of dialogue months ago and I wasn't sure who I was going to use it for/which WIP, but I knew I was going to use it, and it was our ruthless Alpha Bucky who stole it and delivered it with a blow!

But you're also one of the people on the top of my list I have been so eager to share it with so we could SCREECH TOGETHER! AND SO I'M JUST DOING DANGEROUS FLAPPY HANDS NOW!!!!!

thank you for sharing your reading thoughts with me always 🥹

Entanglement

Characters/Pairings: mean Alpha!Bucky x curvy Female!Omega!Reader Word Count: 4.9k Summary: After spending the night with Alpha Bucky, the two of you address the shape of things moving forward. (not a stand-alone read)

Content/Warnings: omegaverse; reluctant attraction; power dynamics; manipulation; threats; dirty talk; explicit smut: somnophilia (mentioned/off-screen), knotting, vaginal fingering, edging, orgasm denial, unprotected vaginal intercourse and insemination; beefy Bucky; size kink; semi-public sexual situation

Author Notes: Surprise! It's been almost three months, but TA DA I STILL WRITE BUCKKY FICS! Excited to finally get back to this specific AU, too... It didn't start as a series, but now that it's transformed into that in my head, I have so much in store for you!!! This is the fourth fic for my Birthday Jubilee.

Previous: Every Minute of It | Series List

↠ Main Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

You moan as you come into consciousness. You’re naked in bed with your naked alpha, and he already has your leg hitched up over his hip, cock sunk into your cunt. Your body responds immediately, rocking against him as he lazily thrusts into you. Bucky's stubble scratches against your neck as he nuzzles insistently against one of the bonding marks.

"Good morning, Omega," he murmurs, his voice still rough with sleep.

"Alpha," you breathe, tilting your head to give him better access. Your body is rested but you feel the aches of having been thoroughly used - even through your sleep.

He picks up the pace slightly, grinding his hips more forcefully against yours. One of his hands slides down to grip your ass, pulling you tighter against him. You moan as the new angle allows him to hit deeper inside you.

"Always so wet for me," Bucky growls approvingly. "My perfect Omega, always ready for her Alpha's cock."

You whimper at his words, feeling yourself grow even slicker around him. He rolls onto to his back, and pulls you over the top of him.

You gasp as you sink down fully onto Bucky's thick cock, the new position allowing him to penetrate even deeper. His hands grip your hips tightly as he guides you into a slow, rolling rhythm.

"That's it, ride your Alpha's cock," he growls, his eyes dark with lust as they roam over your body.

You brace your hands on his broad chest and begin to move more forcefully, lifting yourself up until just the tip remains inside before sinking back down. Bucky groans in approval, his fingers digging into your flesh hard enough to bruise.

"Such a good omega," he praises. "Taking me so well."

His words send a fresh wave of arousal through you. You increase your pace, chasing your pleasure as you bounce on his cock. Bucky's hips begin to thrust up to meet yours, driving himself even deeper.

Your movements grow more frantic as you chase your release. Bucky's hands roam over your body, squeezing your breasts and pinching your nipples. You can feel a knot starting to form at the base of his cock - your knot, for you. The sensations of his cock filling you and his hands on your sensitive flesh have your omega side keening and spiraling quickly towards orgasm.

"Yes, cum for me," Bucky growls. "Let me feel that tight pussy squeeze my cock."

His words push you over the edge and you cry out as your orgasm crashes over you. Your inner walls clamp down on Bucky's thick length as waves of pleasure course through your body.

Bucky groans at the sensation of your clenching pussy. He grips your hips tightly and begins to thrust up into you hard and fast, chasing his own release. The overstimulation has you whimpering and clutching at his chest.

"Take it," he growls, and you feel his knot swell and lock inside you. You whimper but throw your head back as his hips stutter and then he spills his hot seed inside you, continuing to thrust as much as he can. Your walls clench to milk him.

“So deep inside you,” he snarls, “every drop is yours, every shudder is mine.”

You collapse onto Bucky's chest, panting heavily as aftershocks of pleasure ripple through you. His arms wrap around you, holding you close as his knot continues to pulse inside you. You nuzzle into his neck, inhaling his musky alpha scent.

"Such a good omega," Bucky murmurs, stroking your back. "Taking your alpha's knot so well."

You hum contentedly, basking in the praise and the feeling of being filled and claimed. Your body feels languid and sated. This is why he so dangerous to you. Bucky shifts slightly, causing his knot to tug at your sensitive flesh. You whimper at the sensation.

"Shh, I've got you," he soothes, continuing to stroke up and down your spine. For a moment, you allow yourself to forget about the complexities of your situation and simply enjoy the intimacy, the physical connection, tapping into the primal part of you he awakened the first instant he touched you.

After several minutes, Bucky speaks. “So you want a more traditional alpha and omega co-habitation. You want the physical connection – the sex, my knot. But what else do you want?”

Reality crashes back in and you tense slightly. Bucky notices immediately.

“What do you mean?” you ask.

There’s a rumble of a laugh in his chest. It’s not mirthful, it’s still cold, but it’s not heated or angry.

“Omega, let’s acknowledge the reality of what exists here. I wanted to annex your lands, to take over your people and your pack, and to have you as my bonded mate to unequivocally consolidate my power in this region. You’ve had a week to sit with that. I know you didn’t want to see me only to get my cock in your cunt, but while I have you here, knotted and unable to move, I want you to be honest with me. What do you want from our situation?”

You let out a trepidatious chirp - a sound you have never made before.

“I’m open to hearing what you want.”

You study his eyes, his expression is guarded but closed off, reflecting his claim to openly hear you.

You take a deep breath, steadying yourself. "I want to be involved in the governance of our territory. Not just as a figurehead or trophy omega, but to have real input and influence. I was raised for this. I know my people, our needs and challenges. I can help you rule more effectively."

Your father had already been having discussions with you about the possibility and timing of stepping down from his position as governor to ensure a smooth transfer of power rather than risk the danger of anyone challenging your claim to take his place when he died, female and omega that you were.

Bucky's eyes narrow slightly as he considers your words. "Go on."

"It's in both our interests," you reply carefully. "Happy, well-governed subjects are less likely to rebel. And as your bonded omega, my fate is tied to yours now. I have no incentive to work against you."

He's silent for a long moment, his piercing gaze searching your face. Finally, he gives a small nod. "I'll consider it. Coming into this, I knew the potential that could be forged with having you as the omega by my side. But make no mistake - I know you will have your own agenda, and I will be watching you closely. Do not work against me. Where we align, there will not be a problem. One hint of betrayal, and I’ll make good on my threat to make this apartment your isolated prison.”

You nod, accepting his terms. "I understand. I'm not looking to undermine you.” That may not be fully true, but you knew you needed to commit to the cause and do what you could for the greater good. “I want the people to be safe and prosper and I want to have a voice in decisions that affect them."

Bucky studies you for another long moment before speaking. "We'll start small. You can attend council meetings as an observer. If you prove yourself trustworthy and valuable, we can discuss expanding your role."

Relief - even a small, reserved amount of excitement - courses through you. It's more than you'd dared hope for so soon. "Thank you."

He shifts his hips, causing his still-swollen knot to tug at your sensitive flesh. You gasp at the sensation.

“I won't betray you, Alpha."

His hands slide up to cup your face, tilting your head to meet his gaze directly. "See that you don't. I can be a generous alpha when pleased, but cross me and you'll regret it deeply."

The intensity in his eyes sends a shiver down your spine. You know he means every word.

“Now, let’s seal it with a kiss again,” he says, closing the gap between your lips.

You melt into the kiss, your body responding instinctively to your alpha's touch. It’s heady and possessive, but slow. You wonder how much of this kiss is for him and how much is for you. Through the bond, you can feel a hunger and a satisfaction for his part. For you, you’re under no illusion of how much the physical interactions with your alpha continually draw you more into him, tapping into psychology, biology, and chemistry.

As the kiss deepens, you feel a renewed stirring of arousal. Bucky's hands roam your body, igniting sparks of pleasure wherever they touch. His knot has begun to subside, allowing him to rock his hips slightly. You moan into his mouth at the sensation.

"Ready for another round, Omega?" he murmurs against your lips.

You whimper as he begins to move more purposefully, his cock sliding in and out of your sensitive channel. The overstimulation borders on too much, but you can't help but push back against him, chasing the pleasure.

"So eager," he growls approvingly. "My insatiable omega."

He rolls you both over, pressing you into the mattress with his weight. His cock, still hard, slides deeper inside you. You moan at the sensation, arching your back to take him even further.

Bucky sets a slow, deliberate pace, each thrust deep and purposeful. His eyes lock onto yours, intense and penetrating. You feel pinned by his gaze as much as by his body.

"Mine," he growls, punctuating the word with a particularly forceful thrust. "My omega."

The possessiveness in his voice sends a shiver through you. Your omega instincts revel in his claim, even as part of you remains wary.

"Yours, Alpha," you breathe, your body responding to his every move.

Bucky's pace increases, his hips snapping against yours with growing urgency. You wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him deeper. Your nails rake down his back as the pleasure builds, leaving red trails in their wake.

"That's it," he growls. "Mark me."

His words surprise you, but you don't have time to dwell on them as he shifts enough to slide his hand between your bodies to manipulate your clit.

You cry out as his fingers expertly circle your sensitive bud, pleasure building rapidly. Bucky's thrusts grow more forceful, driving you towards the edge.

"Cum for me," he commands, his voice low and rough. "Let me feel that tight pussy squeeze my cock again."

His words, combined with the relentless stimulation, push you over the edge. You arch against him, crying out as waves of pleasure crash over you. Your inner walls clamp down on his length, pulsing rhythmically.

Bucky groans at the sensation, his hips stuttering as he chases his own release. With a final, deep thrust, he buries himself inside you and you feel his cock pulse as he spills his seed, but blessedly there is no knot this time.

You both pant heavily, coming down from your shared high. Bucky's weight presses into you before he rolls off, pulling out his softening cock. You whimper at the loss of fullness and his seed trickles out of you as he pulls you up to stand on shaky legs.

"Go shower," he orders with a smack to your ass. "The escort team will be here in forty-five minutes. All of your personal effects will be moved after our departure.”

You nod, still dazed from the intense mating, and make your way to the adjoining bathroom on unsteady legs. The hot water feels heavenly on your skin, soothing aching muscles and washing away the evidence of your activities. As you lather your body, your mind races with thoughts of what's to come, reflecting on the unexpected turn your conversation with Bucky had taken.

Attending council meetings is a start, but you know you'll have to tread carefully. Bucky's warning echoes in your mind. You can't afford to make any missteps, not when you're just beginning to gain a foothold. It's more than you'd dared hope for when you first thought to speak with Bucky - he was right, you had wanted more than just a night of sex. But you're also wary. Bucky is cunning and ruthless - you can't afford to let your guard down or mistake this concession for weakness.

You're so lost in thought that you don't hear the bathroom door open. Suddenly, the glass shower door is pulled open and Bucky steps in behind you.

You gasp as Bucky's large frame fills the spacious shower, steam swirling around his muscular body. The multiple shower heads spray warm water from various angles, creating a misty cocoon around you both. Droplets cascade down his chiseled chest and abs, following the defined lines of his physique. Your eyes are drawn to the trail of dark hair leading down to his impressive manhood, which hangs thick and heavy between his legs even in its flaccid state.

Your body tenses in anticipation, expecting his hands to roam your wet skin or for him to press you against the cool tile wall. But Bucky simply reaches past you for the soap, his arm brushing tantalizingly against your breast as he does so. The brief contact sends a shiver through you, your nipples hardening despite the warm water.

He begins to lather himself methodically, starting with his broad shoulders and working his way down his sculpted chest. Your eyes follow his movements, mesmerized by the play of muscles under his skin as he moves. Soap suds trail down the planes of his abdomen, outlining each defined ridge.

You expect him to turn his attention to you at any moment, to pull you against his slick body and claim your mouth in a hungry kiss. But he remains focused on his task, seemingly oblivious to your presence.

Bucky turns to rinse, giving you a tantalizing view of his muscular back and firm ass. Water cascades down the curve of his spine, and you have to physically restrain yourself from reaching out to trace its path with your fingers.

He turns back around, and your eyes jump up to look at his face. He’s smirking. “Show’s over, Omega.”

He steps past you and grabs a towel as he exits the shower.

“Hurry up. Professional dress today - your timing lands you a chance to prove yourself at a council meeting this morning.”

The shower door closes behind Bucky, you're left alone again with your thoughts as you resume your shower routine, and those thoughts fixate on the alpha who just left.

Bucky's presence had filled the shower completely, dwarfing you with his sheer size. You recall how his broad shoulders nearly spanned the width of the stall, how his head nearly brushed the ceiling. Even among alphas, Bucky is exceptionally large - a mountain of a man, all hard muscle and raw power.

A shiver runs through you that has nothing to do with the water temperature. Bucky could crush you without breaking a sweat if he wanted to. The thought should terrify you, but as you are no small woman, you’ve never felt so small, so delicate, as you do when he's looming over you or manhandling your body. You have been with betas before - some of them almost as large in stature as your alpha - yet none of them had come close to his strength.

As you lather your body, your hands glide over your curves and you're struck by a realization. With Bucky, you haven't once felt self-conscious about your body. In the past, with other partners, you'd always been hyper-aware of your perceived flaws - the softness of your stomach, the stretch marks on your thighs, the way your breasts weren't perfectly symmetrical. You'd strategically angled yourself during sex, tried to keep certain parts covered, worried about how you looked in various positions.

But with Bucky, all those insecurities had vanished. From the moment he first laid hands on you, he'd appreciated every inch of your body with a fervor that left no room for doubt. His large hands had roamed your curves with hunger, desire, squeezing and kneading appreciatively. He'd kissed and licked every stretch mark, every dimple. When his hands roamed your skin, they didn't shy away from the areas you usually tried to hide. He’s not soft or reverent for you like a lover, but he seems to revel in satisfaction over your body and that you’re his omega.

You finish your shower quickly, mindful of Bucky's warning about time. As you step out and begin to dry off, you catch sight of yourself in the large mirror. Your skin is flushed from the hot water and recent activities, and you can see faint marks where Bucky's stubble had scraped against your neck and chest. Your fingers trace over one of the bonding marks, still tender and slightly raised.

Once you’ve dried off, you wrap up in a silk dressing robe, and set to brushing your teeth, finishing up your skincare, fixing your hair, and applying some makeup.

You choose a sleek, professional outfit from your wardrobe - a tailored blazer and pencil skirt in a deep navy, paired with a crisp white blouse.

You're applying one last finishing touch to your makeup when there's a knock at the door. "Time to go, Omega," Bucky's voice barks through the door.

“Yes, Alpha,” you respond.

You exit the bathroom to find Bucky already dressed in a sharp dark suit. He's adjusting his tie in the mirror when he catches your eye in the reflection.

Bucky's eyes rake over your form appreciatively, appraising you from top to bottom. "Ready to play politics, Omega?"

You nod, smoothing your skirt. "Of course."

Bucky turns to face you, closing the distance between you in two long strides. His large hands settle on your hips, pulling you flush against him.

"Remember," he says, his voice low and intense, "you're there to observe. Don't speak unless spoken to. If you have any insights, you share them with me privately first. Understood?"

You swallow hard and nod. "Yes, Alpha."

He studies your face for a moment, then leans in to capture your lips in a searing kiss. It's brief but passionate, leaving you breathless when he pulls away.

He’s doing this on purpose - plying you with the physical connections he must be able to sense have your omega bending to him as your alpha.

"Time to go,” he commands and strides out of the room.

You follow after him down the hall and to the small entryway to the apartment he’s kept you in.

You stop short when you recognize the escort team to be members of the infamous STRIKE team.

Their expressions are impassive, but you can feel the weight of their scrutiny. These are the same ruthless operatives who helped Bucky seize control of your territory. The memory of their efficiency and brutality during the takeover is still fresh in your mind. None of these men and women were people you had ever wanted to see again.

Their presence is intimidating, a stark reminder of your new reality, but you force yourself to keep your chin up and your gait steady as you follow and take up a position next to Bucky as he speaks with the one you remembered went by Rumlow.

One of the other men near you, the name Rawlins emblazoned over his chest, sneers at you. “I’m surprised you’re able to stand.”

Your eyes widen, and your gut roils with humiliation, but before you can even respond, Bucky turns, and the room goes silent. You notice his hand clenched into a fist at his side.

His voice is low and laced with warning as he addresses the team. “If any of you ever lay a hand on my omega, you’ll lose that hand. Glance at her with a look of anything other than protection, and I’ll take your eyes out. Now that my expectations have been communicated, I do not expect any problems.”

There’s a collective murmurs of assent from the team.

Bucky's hand settles on the small of your back, a possessive gesture that both steadies and unsettles you. "Let's move," he orders, and the team falls into formation around you both.

“Oh, and Rawlins? You’re being reassigned to security in Jacksonville. You can leave once we’ve departed from here.”

As you exit the apartment, you're immediately encircled by the STRIKE team's tight formation. At the end of the long corridor, the elevator arrives with a soft chime, its polished doors sliding open to reveal a spacious interior lined with rich mahogany paneling and gleaming brass fixtures.

Bucky guides you inside with a firm hand on your lower back. The STRIKE team files in around you, their bulky tactical gear a stark contrast to the elevator's luxurious ambiance. As the doors close, you catch a glimpse of Rawlins' scowling face before he disappears from view.

The descent is smooth and silent, the only sound the soft hum of the elevator's mechanisms. You can feel the tension radiating from the STRIKE team, their bodies coiled and ready for action at any moment. It’s unnerving, but Bucky seems completely used to this atmosphere.

After descending ten floors, the elevator doors slide open with another soft chime, revealing a vast underground parking garage. The cool, damp air hits you as you step out, a stark contrast to the climate-controlled building above.

The STRIKE team moves in perfect formation around you and Bucky, their boots making barely a whisper on the ground. You can't help but wonder at their efficiency and silent communication - a well-oiled machine of lethal precision.

Approaching a line of identical black SUVs, you notice the subtle differences that mark them as military-grade vehicles. The windows are thicker, clearly bulletproof, and the body seems reinforced. You wonder briefly what kind of firepower these are designed to take.

Bucky guides you towards the middle SUV, his hand still firmly on your lower back. One of the STRIKE team members steps forward to open the rear passenger door. Bucky ushers you inside first. The interior is plush leather, but you notice the reinforced paneling and what looks like hidden compartments - likely for weapons.

Bucky settles in beside you, his large frame taking up most of the backseat. Two STRIKE members climb into the front, while the rest disperse to the other vehicles. As the convoy pulls out of the garage, you feel a mixture of anticipation and trepidation about what's to come. The council meeting represents your first opportunity to observe the inner workings of Bucky's administration and potentially begin to carve out a role and strategy for yourself.

The ride is silent save for the low hum of the engine. Bucky seems lost in thought, his gaze fixed out the window. You take the opportunity to study his profile - the sharp line of his jaw, the slight furrow between his brows.

His hair is neatly styled, but you can see a few strands threatening to escape, curling slightly at the nape of his neck. You remember how those strands felt between your fingers when you gripped his hair in the throes of passion.

His brow is furrowed slightly, creating a small crease between his eyebrows that you have an inexplicable urge to smooth with your thumb. His eyes, a stormy blue-gray, are focused intently on something outside the window, when he says, “Like what you see with the clothing on in the light of day?”

You feel a flush creep up your neck at being caught staring. "I was just..." you trail off.

Bucky doesn’t turn to face you, but his lips quirk into a small smirk. "Just admiring the view?" he finishes for you, his voice low and teasing.

You swallow hard, suddenly very aware of how close he is in the confines of the SUV. "I was thinking about the council meeting," you lie, trying to regain your composure. Though it wasn’t a total lie.

"Is that so?" He asks skeptically. His hand slides onto your thigh, the heat of his palm searing through the thin fabric of your skirt. "I shouldn’t have let you shower before we left. Having my cum leaking out of you would serve as a good reminder of who you belong to. "

Your breath catches in your throat as his fingers begin to trace slow circles on your inner thigh. "Alpha," you breathe, your voice barely above a whisper. Your thighs clench involuntarily at his touch.

Bucky's hand slides higher, pushing your skirt up as he goes. "You're mine, Omega," he growls softly, his fingers brushing against the edge of your panties. "Don't forget that when we're in that meeting room."

You bite your lip to stifle a moan as his fingers press against your clothed center. Even through the fabric, you can feel how wet you've become.

"I won't forget," you manage to say, your voice breathy and unsteady.

You glance nervously at the STRIKE team members in the front seat, but they seem studiously focused on the road ahead, giving no indication that they're aware of what's happening in the backseat.

Bucky's fingers hook under the edge of your panties, pulling them aside. You gasp as he slides a finger along your slick folds.

"We shouldn't..." you start to protest weakly, but your body betrays you as you unconsciously part your legs slightly.

"Shouldn't what?" he asks, feigning nonchalance though there's a predatory gleam in his eyes when he finally turns to look though there's a predatory gleam in his eyes when he finally turns to look at you. His finger continues to tease along your folds, gathering your slickness. "Shouldn't remind you of your place? Shouldn't make sure you're properly prepared for the meeting?"

You bite back a moan as he slowly pushes a thick finger inside you. Your hips buck involuntarily, seeking more friction.

"That's it," he murmurs approvingly. "Take what your alpha gives you."

He begins to pump his finger in and out at an agonizingly slow pace. You clutch at the leather seat, torn between the need for more and the awareness of your surroundings.

"Alpha," you whimper, your voice barely audible. "Please."

"Please what?"

"Please..." you breathe, struggling to find words as his finger continues its torturous pace. "We're almost there."

Indeed, through the tinted windows you can see you're approaching the majestic capitol building for the territory.

You bite your lip hard to stifle a moan as he adds a second finger, but maintains the same slow pace. The wet sounds of his ministrations seem obscenely loud in the quiet car, and you pray the STRIKE team members can't hear.

Bucky leans in close, his lips brushing your ear as he whispers, "I want you to remember this feeling when we're in that meeting room. Remember how easily I can reduce you to a quivering mess, how your body responds to my touch. Remember you’re mine."

His fingers curl inside you, hitting that spot that makes you see stars. Your hips buck involuntarily as pleasure courses through you. You're teetering on the edge, so close to release.

But then Bucky abruptly withdraws his hand, leaving you aching and empty. You whimper at the loss, your body still thrumming with unfulfilled need.

"Alpha," you plead softly, your eyes wide and desperate.

Bucky smirks, bringing his glistening fingers to his lips. He maintains eye contact as he slowly licks your arousal from his digits. "And I’ll have this pretty cunt begging for me whenever it suits me.”

You open your mouth to respond, but at that moment, the SUV comes to a stop. You glance out the window to see you've arrived at the capitol building. The neoclassical architecture looms over you, its white marble facade gleaming in the morning sun.

"Fix yourself," he says.

You quickly smooth down your skirt and adjust your panties, trying to compose yourself as the STRIKE team begins to exit the vehicles. Your heart is racing, a mixture of arousal and anxiety coursing through you.

Bucky gives you a predatory smirk before his face settles into a neutral expression. As the door opens, he steps out first, then turns to offer you his hand. You take it, grateful for the support as you exit on slightly shaky legs.

The cool morning air helps clear your head a bit as you follow Bucky up the grand steps of the capitol building. The STRIKE team forms a protective perimeter around you, their eyes constantly scanning for threats.

Inside, your heels click against the polished marble floors as you make your way through ornate hallways. Portraits of past leaders line the walls, their stern faces seeming to judge you as you pass. You wonder how long it will be before you feel confident in these halls again instead of conquered.

You try to focus on your surroundings, taking in the grandeur of the building you once knew so well. But your body is still humming with unfulfilled desire, making it difficult to concentrate. You can feel your arousal dampening your panties with each step.

Approach the council chamber, you see a group of men in suits waiting outside. They straighten up as Bucky approaches, a mixture of fear and respect in their eyes. You recognize some of them as former advisors to your father, now serving under Bucky's regime.

"Gentlemen," Bucky greets them, his voice carrying authority.

“Everyone is assembled and waiting, sir,” one man steps forward to report.

“And no excuses or absences?”

“No,” he answers.

"Wise of them," Bucky says with a nod. “Let’s not keep them waiting any longer.”

more to come...

So maybe I didn't forget about Bucky Barnes after all, my hoes! 🤭

↠ Main Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

I do not do tag lists, but FOLLOW @buckets-and-stories and TURN ON NOTIFICATIONS to be updated any time I publish a new work!

[wolfpants]

erised tidings

Unfortunately I had to drop out of @hd-erised this year due to being flakier than a 99p* cone, but that didn't cut short my Erised journey because I had the pleasure of betaing 3 absolutely stellar fics that I want to scream about from the rooftops. Listed in alphabetical order, because each is as excellent as the next and they all hold a very special place in my cold heart.

Thank you so much to my lovely pals who let me feel like I was taking part in the fest even when I wasn't. I'm very lucky indeed. 🖤

In a Year's Turning by @hoko-onchi-writes is not only a gorgeous rekindled-romance by way of delicately mending the tears in a relationship so romantic, so beautifully feelsy and tender (and hot, my god is it hot), but at its heart it's an emotional and important exploration of parenthood and family and what it feels like to watch your child grow up as the magical, wonderous but also at times unsympathetic and cruel world moves too quickly around them and you. I got so choked up reading this for Hoko, so many times. A beauty of a fic. The Melting Point of Wax by @oknowkiss is a riot of originality and sexiness and holy popes racing around the Vatican on broomsticks? Honestly sometimes I just want to crawl right into Elaine's big, wonderful mind and have a poke around in there, their ideas are like nothing I've ever seen cooked up anywhere else, and what's more, they're always translated so sharply; Elaine's writing is full of life and wit, and at the centre there's always the tender heart I so crave when it comes to Drarry, just thrumming and constant and waiting to be uncovered fully. Really fucking great, this one. The Pain From an Old Wound by @citrusses had me gasping for more every time Lor updated the doc. This is a grown-up, swoon-worthy, gothic-tinged romance weaved with clever magic theory, outstanding dialogue, and a romantic Drarry history (and reunion) that feels absolutely lived-in and achy but also really fun as we get to see the two exes snark back and forth (jealousy. my. beloved.) as they come together to work through Harry's crisis. Gorgeously rendered, elegant prose.

I can't wait to dig into the fics I've not gotten around to reading yet. This year's fest has been an absolute banger!

*they're actually like £5 or something now... inflation... economy...

[scorpioriesling]

GIRLIE i have been reading 4th wing and holy hell, why havent we got an azriel x fourth wing yettt? like just imagine, that man is literally perfect for ANY book crossover, I would pay good money to see Az beat the frick out of jack (ew)

Our Worlds Collided

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Pairing(s): Azriel x reader

Warning(s): Violence... I mean, read the ask. Lol.

Summary: Living in a different place than your boyfriend is hard, and the moments you can be together, you don't want to waste. But, being in school, there are still obligations and tasks you must complete -- even if it means spending time with your man in a less-than-ideal place.

SR’s Note: This ask was *chef's kiss*. I've been doing so much lately with smut + the Invisible String series (which is finished btw, go read it if you haven't yet) that I haven't really got to write a cute little short story in a while. I hope this is what you wanted -- I'm happy with how it turned out!

Tags: @mellowmusings @rcarbo1 @lilah-asteria @kitsunetori @velarisdusk (inbox me or comment if you'd like to be added!)

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"I'm so glad you made it!"

You threw your arms around your boyfriend, his tall but strong frame engulfing you as he held you close. Grateful for the familiar scent of pine and mint, you inhaled deeply.

"You missed me that much?" The low timbre of his voice was like a caress against your very soul.

Nodding wordlessly, he pulled back, only a bit to look into your eyes. His shadows danced around him in a joyful parade, signaling his inner happiness he so rarely showed on the outside.

"I missed you too, Y/N." He leaned down, pressing a kiss against your lips and smiling when you tugged him close for more. He slid his rough hands along your waist, settling on your hips while his lips moved against yours.

The moment, one you'd been desperate for for weeks now, was harshly interrupted by the mid-afternoon bell, signaling the end of classes for the day. You pulled back, watching your boyfriend grimace at the sound.

"Don't tell me you've never heard a schoolbell before, Azriel," you chuckled. His ears perked up at the sound, and only when it finally ended did he resume his usual, unassuming posture.

"I'll have to get used to the sounds here again." He says. It was true -- where he was from, Prythian, sounds were much softer as the fae hearing had adapted that way. But, in Basgiath, for your kind; it was quite the opposite.

"Yes... and the dragons." You'd taken his hand, making way for your dorm as he sighed.

"Ahh, yes. Almost forgot about those."

･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

He truly could not have come to visit at a worse time; not to sound ungrateful, you loved seeing your boyfriend and all, but between all the training, challenges, and courses you were balancing -- well, there were many hours of the day that you had to leave him to attend those duties.

But, you couldn't complain. Spending every evening, curled up with Azriel, your back to his chest as you got the best sleep of your life? You were counting down the days to graduation.

"So... a first year... that's when we met," Azriel says slowly, flipping through one of your library books. He'd chosen Basgiath's War College History, and was all the more quizzical.

"Yes," you confirmed. "That was when I took Ramir to... well, Prythian." You shrugged. "Accidental, of course, but, look what it got me."

He glanced up, chuckling as you threw him a wink. It was an unusually rainy Friday, and though you'd rather be exploring the town with Azriel, Emetterio had other plans.

"But, how were you even able to leave the college with your dragon?" He asks, frowning at the next. You wrap a few more strands of your braid, reflecting on the distant memory.

"Oh, I got in trouble all right." General Sorrengail had been furious with you upon your return, having clearly stated that dragon riding was for Basgiath-grounds only. "But, like I said -- at least I met you."

He doesn't look up this time, flipping the page and reading more of the text intently.

"So, now that you're a third-year," he starts, his attention only faltering for a moment when you sit down on the mattress beside him. "You can go anywhere you want?"

You nod in confirmation. "Yup. That's right -- Ramir doesn't particularly like long-distance flying, but he does just fine going to Prythian and back."

Azriel looks sidelong at you, and in the dim afternoon light, you can count every freckle on his face. His hazel eyes gaze at you, flickering between your eyes and lips. You lean in, pressing a quick kiss to his lips as his hands slide along your upper thigh.

Your alarm buzzes from your phone, causing Azriel to pull back and cover his ears with his palms. You scramble to turn it off, leaning across your boyfriend to reach the night stand in the process.

"Sorry! I'm sorry," you apologize. Your movement to sit back down is halted; his large hands pulling you to straddle him.

He smirks at you, appreciating your cute giggle as you sit on his lap. His hands run up and down the sides of your waist, and in an instant his lips are on yours again.

"Hmm, quite handsy today, are we?" You mumble, eliciting a chuckle from him against your mouth. He enforces his feelings as his left hand lightly pats your behind, and you squeak.

"I wonder why you've got all this on, anyway?" He mutters suggestively. You peer down at him with a scolding expression.

"Though I'd love to have it all off," you punctuate. "I have to be in the training room in 10 minutes." His smile falters a bit, and you realize too late that you slipped up.

"Training room? For what?"

Realization hits you, and you hastily hop off his lap to grab your phone and boots.

"Uh, we have, umm..." You fumble, quickly yanking your boots on and tying the laces. "Training. Tonight."

He looks at you, unimpressed. "Really. Training, at 5 in the afternoon? On a Friday?" He raises an eyebrow.

You huff, standing as you adjust your leathers. "Y-yes."

He continues his blank stare, clearly not buying it.

"Don't worry, I won't be long -- I promise, I'll be quick." You reach for the doorhandle, making up for the time you you'd spent on your boyfriend's lap.

"And, safe." He calls, just as the door shuts.

As you jogged through the corridors, you felt anything but safe. Azriel hated when you got hurt, and of course, before the long weekend, Professor Emetterio was holding challenges. It made sense to choose tonight so injured riders could rest up before classes resumed Tuesday -- but given your situation, it really, really sucked.

Especially because of who had chellanged you; none other than Jack Barlowe.

･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

"Girl, you're lucky Emetterio is running behind," Violet says, shaking her head as you finally make it to the training ring. Rhiannon places a light hand on your shoulder, making sure you're okay, but you only nod to her in thanks.

"I.... I lost, track... of time," you say between pants. Rhiannon nods in sympathy, but your silver-haired friend only smirks.

"Mhm, I'm sure you did. Too caught up with the Shadowsinger?" She teases. Rhiannon gasps.

"I didn't know Azriel was in town!" She beams. You roll your eyes at Violet.

"Oh, like you've never been late before," you grin wickedly. "Too busy playing with shadows, and such." Rhiannon claps a hand over her mouth, giggling at the insinuation.

Violet can't help but laugh too. "Oh please -- we know you love your boyfriends little playmates just as much."

Just then, the training room door swings open as Professor Emetterio walks through. He walks straight to the center of the room, clipboard in hand.

"Students!" He bellows, and the entire room hushes. "I have the list here of challenges for this evening -- now, I want to remind you all, the goal of these scheduled fights is not to kill, but rather build your own strength as a rider against an opponent."

Your eyes flicker to that familiar head of blonde hair across the room. Bile rises in your throat as he snickers, whispering something to his friends before meeting you with a menacing stare.

You look away.

"...we'll try to make this quick, as I do understand it is a long weekend and most of you have plans." He clears his throat, adjusting his glasses on his nose and squinting down at the first names.

"Ridoc and Merlin -- please step onto the training mat!"

Everyone clears off the mat, instead lining the outer edges to get a view of the impending battle before them. You stay close to your friends, your attention interrupted by Violet's voice in your ear.

"We've always kind of had the same type, haven't we?"

Rhiannon giggles again from her other side, and you loose a breath you hadn't realized you were holding.

"We do not -- for example, I would've never dated a guy like Dain." You quip. Violet groans, stratching her forehead.

"Okay, that was definately one mistake," she says. Rhiannon glances between the two of you, counting the similarities on one hand.

"Hmm, tall, tan, brooding shadow masters? Yeah, I'd say your type is the same." You blush, thinking of the handsome male waiting for you in your dorm room.

Violet chimes in. "Don't forget about the tattoos."

Rhiannon nods, holding up another finger. "Right, right -- definitely can't forget the tattoos."

･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

Three more pairs are called after the first fight, and you're so caught up in conversation with your friends that you almost miss your name being called.

"Y/N and Jack -- please take the mat!"

Violet looks to you in horror, as Rhiannon gasps.

"Y/N! Why didn't you tell me you had to fight-"

"It wouldn't have changed anything." You glare ahead, watching Jack's pompous, blonde head part through the crowd of onlookers.

It was true, your friends couldn't have done anything to change the fact that Jack had challenged you. In a twisted way, you kind of wanted the opportunity to punch him in the face -- but, the niggling fear of him punishing you to the near brink of death had you mostly thinking otherwise.

Taking the mat, you watched as Jack sized you up, smirking and rolling his lip between his teeth before taking his beginning stance. You mirrored him, fists raised, though they shook.

"Begin."

Jack wastes no time, slowly stepping around the ring as he continues to look at you menacingly. You move in opposition, trying to keep as much distance as you can.

"Awww," he coos mockingly. "Not so tough now that were in the training ring, are we?" He smirks.

You glare at him. "I've always been tougher than you, Jack."

He chuckles, lunging forward and clicking his teeth together in front of your face. You step back, your boot stepping onto the cold concrete floor outside the training ring. Emettario clears his throat, before breathing out a sigh.

"Y/N, please. Step back onto the mat."

You take a half step onto the mat, it's surface not much more forgiving than the concrete it sat on. Jack snickers, backing up to allow you an inch of room.

"Y'look scared to me, Y/N." He moves, slow and stealthy. "Almost as scared as Baide when I-"

"Shut the Hell up." You grit out, glaring hard at him. Reflecting back to the moment that caused all this to begin with, your blood boils. Finding Jack out late that night last week, all of those weapons, how he had mistreated his own dragon-

"Ooooh, hot are we?" He sneers, ignoring the fearful faces of your friends standing just outside the ring behind him. "That's the difference between dragons and us -- they are easier to control."

Rage bubbles over the surface, your own words drifting into the back of your mind. They're no different than we are, you'd tried to convince him that night. They deserve our respect.

You lunge at him, respect be damned for the asshole before you. Adrenaline pumps through your veins at the silent victory; your fist had hit him exactly where you wanted it to. He staggers back, clutching his face with one hand as he gasps, his other hand raised before him.

"Fuck, you!" He growls, making to grab you but you're too fast. You snake to his side, kicking your boot against his stomach. He doubles over, falling to his knees in pain.

The memory of Violet in this position from your first year sends you reeling, remembering the horror of watching your best friend beaten and bruised so badly that Xaden had to come finish her challenge for her.

You grap him around the neck, flexing your arm at a 45 degree angle in an attempt to put him in a headlock. He'd never hurt anyone again; not you, not your friends, not any dragon, whether it be someone else's or his own-

His hands grip your arm, pulling you over his back and slamming you straight onto your back before him. You let out a cough as the wind was knocked out of you, your vision blurring as you tried to refocus on the ceiling above you.

"Shouldn't have fucked with me, Y/N!" He shouts, scrambling to his feet, only to land a harsh kick to your ribcage. You cried out in pain, grabbing your side as you felt his boot shoving against your ribs, and fingers, again.

"I do what I want with my dragon," he grunts, ramming his shoe into your side over and over again. Pain explodes across your body, your fingers cracking beneath his repeated blows.

Black spots begin to fill your vision, the overhead lights blinking out as the last sounds feel your ears. You're blacking out. You're surely blacking out.

You try again to rise, weakly as your arms shake beneath you. It's no use -- his foot connects with your hipbone, sending you right back to the floor. The shouts of your friends, Emetterio's calling, the world around you; it all begins winking out.

Curled onto your side, you heave one last final breath, waiting for the final hit to send you into darkness.

But, it never comes.

You crane your neck, confused as the shouting around you grows louder. Wincing in pain, you make it onto your back, only having to turn your head to watch as the horrific scene unfolds from the other side of the mat.

Tall and terrifying, you watch those familiar scarred hands throw the blonde to the ground, his body literally bouncing in recoil at the impact. Large, tanned muscles yank Jack back up; only to twist his arms behind his back, the angle unnatural.

Your enemy cries out, writing in pain as the wispy black shadows hurl punches of their own at the bastard. Dark, large wings flare behind the male; the talons enough to send anyone away screaming.

"Please... you don't have to do this, I-"

Azriel punches him clean in the jaw, Jack's head jerking as he falls limply to the ground. The growing crowd around the mat erupts, their screams so loud it felt deafening.

You now understood why Azriel hated the sounds here so much.

The black dots clouding your vision increase, your heart rate slowing before you finally black out -- the last thing you see are his familiar leather boots stalking toward you.

･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

"She's going to be just fine."

The light from the overhead bulbs is blinding as you squint your eyes open, muffled voices and beeps becoming more distinguishable. You blink a few times before everything comes into clear view -- the white operating bed, the heart rate monitor beside you...

...the brooding, winged male in the chair across from you.

"I... what..." you look side to side, taking in the mender watching over you. He begins to grab his things, preparing to leave.

"Your challenge with Mr. Barlowe left you with a few... injuries," he settles on the word lightly. You don't miss his quick glance to Azriel before he continues. "But, not as many as he recieved himself."

You swear there is a hint of a smile behind his words.

"I'll leave you two for a moment."

No sooner than the door shuts behind him, Azriel is on his feet and approaching your bedside, opting to sit next to you on it as he looks down at you. Concern etches his features, underneath the unassuming mask he puts on; then, the memories of what happened start coming back to you.

"Why would you step in like that?" You say angrily, and Azriel huffs.

"Seriously, Y/N? Why would I step in?" He raises his eyebrows. "Maybe because I wasn't comfortable watching the shit get beat out of my girlfriend, that's why." He takes your wrapped hand in his, though his brows still knit on his forehead. "Why didn't you tell me about the fight beforehand?"

You relax your features a little, your heart softening as he rubs small circles against the back of your palm with his thumb. "I didn't think you'd particularly like it, or understand-"

"You're damn right I don't like it." He says, giving your hand a small squeeze. "What would have happened had I not been there?"

His hazel eyes stare right into yours, and you bite your bottom lip. Truly, what would have happened?

"I-I don't know, I guess, Emetterio would have-"

"He wasn't doing shit, Y/N." He sighs, leaning on his elbow to cocoon you in an embrace. He presses a soft kiss to the side of your neck, and you find yourself relaxing a bit more against his warmth.

"I don't like that you have to go through these things." He says after a moment of silence. His voice is softer now, his hand lightly running along your bandaged side. "I don't like to see you hurt-"

"I have to do this though, Az. It's part of training." You turn to face him, wincing in pain as the fresh bandages do little to ease you. "And, I'm much tougher than you think."

A ghost of a smile graces his lips, his rough fingers reaching out to brush a piece of hair out of your eyes.

"I know you are. I just... I don't want anything to happen to you. I love you too much for that."

Your heart practically bursts out of your chest at the sentiment, and in that moment, you snuggle closer to his chest.

"Good thing I have a big, strong male that I love to protect me then."

[jc-martin-og]

Triple Noceda Trouble Incoming! 🐺🇩🇴🤘

I'm beyond excited to share the next batch of character cards for the crossover! This time, we're diving into Camila, Vee, and the freshly arrived Avery! These designs were pretty fun to explore, and I can't wait to tell you a bit about the inspiration behind them!

For Vee, I loved her punk-inspired look from the timeskip (even though we barely got to see it cuz, you know, WD hates fun) and decided to stick with it. Her human form just fits her so well, so I decided not to give it major modicifications as I did with Sasha and Marcy🐍💛💚

Camila, on the other hand, was a fun blend of her various looks throughout the show. I used her timeskip design as the base and added touches from her earlier appearances to create a warm yet commanding presence. She’s got that perfect "mom mode" vibe despite her kids being already grown-ups, but with a sense of magic and experience after everything she went through with her kids! 💝🌈

As for Avery, the wolf palisman… where do I start? I absolutely adore him! 😂💜 His design took major inspiration from the wolfs on Hunter's shirt in Thanks to Them, but pup-like version (cause let’s be honest, that t-shirt is a total must have). Plus, the fandom headcanon of Camila having a wolf palisman was too cute and funny to resist! Regarding his striking red colour and magenta eyes? That’s a lisomething I can't go into much detail for now 👀🐾

I hope you've liked these cards so far and how they reflect how the characters are in this story. I hope they give you a peek into their journeys and relationships! 🥰💖

Stay tuned for more stuff soon! (๑˃ᴗ˂)ﻭ🌟

[gothicastles]

yes! this also made me think of the famous lines delivered by crozier in episode 1, and how they act not only as foreshadowing of their soon-to-fail exploration enterprise, but also as a reference to the show's (biased) storytelling:

this is the discovery service. 'close' is nothing. it's worst than nothing. it's worst than anything in the world.

this notion of "closeness" can be related to perspective and objectivity. as the show moves forward and our cast of characters grows smaller, we get to spend more time with them and begin to know them more intimately. however, if you think about it, the moment we achieve that emotional or psychological "closeness" with the characters, we begin to progressively lose sight of the general perspective of events, and with it, our objectivity. truth gets more and more twisted, and it's our personal emotions what begins to dominate the viewing experience. we start to take sides, pass judgment, and become lost in the complexities of the plot alongside the characters themselves without special regard for truth. the plot has lured us in with the promise of closeness and made us forget that we are the audience of yet another stage, another performance. and what's more, trading our objectivity in favor of acquiring that "closeness" with the characters is but another farce: we can only be outsiders to these characters and guess as to the motivations behind their actions; we can never quite reach their innermost thoughts, and thus remain at the exact distance the plot wants us to stay in --close, but not close enough, as crozier says.

additionally, the fact that the scene where crozier delivers these lines happens to be the first time we meet him acts as a warning: the main character is telling us clearly and openly (it's also interesting that in this scene he has his back to the only other fictional character there, jopson, and is instead facing us, the audience, as if breaking the fourth wall and speaking to us directly) that we'll only get close to him, to them all, to the real events and the truth of the story, but never will reach any of them completely or successfully. he's explicitly invoking suspicion and distance, whilst also foregrounding the "fictionality" of what we're about to watch. this moment reflects how storytelling can convey a level of truth, yes, but never exactly the truth of reality, the latter which is in nature ephemeral, contingent, and ungraspable, either by language or visual representation. as you say, we only get to know the events through the filter of storytelling, which is biased and already questioned internally by crozier and blanky, so how much of what we're seeing can we trust? can we trust a character whose opening lines are all about the impossibility of full knowledge, of completion, of intimacy? this seems to echo the show's engagement with the conventions of tragedy, as well as its interrogation of the nature of history itself. we can only get so close to anything or anyone, we are all separated by invisible and insurmountable distances that are made visible and concrete by the plot, and that's worst than nothing, worst than anything in the world.

MANY instances in the terror of people talking about how dishonest storytellers are when recounting real events...sir john was represented unfairly (according to him and his wife) in history as having been a bad governor...the play about crozier and ross portrayed crozier unflatteringly...blanky basically says that biographies are just puff pieces most of the time...etc etc

obviously the terror itself is not claiming to be anything but a fictionalization of this expedition, but even given that, i feel like it's inviting us to be suspicious of its storytelling in a lot of ways. like, crozier is presented especially in the second half of the show very heroically at least in his motivations and efforts to do right by his men; is that something to be taken at face value? is hickey's move away from being a regular guy and into being a more archetypal villain figure supposed to be taken at face value? are the tidy messages the real messages? poking & prodding at it

[orphicarchives]

For The Glory of Rome

MARCUS ACACIUS X READER

You're finishing your senior year at Orpheus University when your history class is chosen to give an evaluation on one of the professors. Why does he feel so familiar?

⚠️ Past lives AU! Reader is Geta and Caracalla's sister! Reader is also 22 years old, Pedro is older. ⚠️

The mountains were just visible through the window you were sitting next to; their peaks reaching toward the sky above, almost as if in embrace. They were beautiful at this wintry time of year, with the snow cascading down their formations and painting them white. Bare trees that flanked them transformed into branches of green where the cold hadn't hit just yet- your eyes traveling further down the scene. It was that transitory period of the merging seasons, where autumn became winter and left everyone with an odd illness due to the changing weather patterns. Both snow and leaves were tracked inside the bustling classrooms that were alive with the excited chatter amongst the students. Everyone was excited for the upcoming break that would mark the end of the semester. For you, it would mean the midway point of your senior year at Orpheus.

You'd gone to Orpheus all three years of your college career so far, immediately entranced by the large stone pillared building it was. It was so different from your usual pace in the rainy countryside, with its suburban feel and authentic restaurants. It wasn't immediately that you felt the urge to explore the grand halls of the place and to make it your home, but that feeling came soon enough. One glance at the psychology department and a sip of coffee from the bistro down the road were enough to convince whatever part of you left unsure this would be the place. Even with how far you had to uproot yourself and make such a move, you'd made the connections you'd needed and the friends you'd always wanted.

Lee had sat himself next to you this morning with a coffee cup in hand and his phone in the other. He was addicted to that screen- any video that would appear around his recent interest in Danish pop music would be enough to send him down a spiral of excitement. The coffee, however, was for you.

"Morning!" He said, way too chipper for an 8:00am class. He usually went to Starbucks way too close to the time you were meant to be seated with only a minute left to spare. How he didn't have crippling anxiety around his time management, you'd never know. But he did bring you a drink.

"Hey, Lee." You said, with as much energy as you could muster at the moment given how tired you were. "Thanks for the coffee."

Lee threw his bag onto the ground under the long tables in the lecture hall. His spot had been on the other side of the room for the majority of the class as he'd argued he couldn't focus if seated next to you for laughter purposes. However, today he plopped himself down into the one next to you with his notebook open to the most recent material from last week. His hair was a mess as he'd most likely not had the time to brush it but at least his pants matched his shirt today.

"Yeah, 'course."

You took a sip of the drink, wincing slightly at the heat on your tongue. He'd remembered you liked your coffee black.

This morning, you had your history course which was conveniently in the building furthest from your shared apartment. Deciding the added three minutes to your walk would mean a warmer outfit for the day, you wore a white button down with fleece tights under your skirt. You had to substitute your usual leather jacket in favor for a heavier coat but still opted to wear the full face of makeup you had on every day. Eyeliner was your saving grace and you swore you'd never be caught outside without it on. You weren't much of a "girly girl," but that beauty product was the one exception.

Your shoes were still a little damp from the snow and the water had melted into the bottom of your bookbag, to your dismay. Your notebook was mostly fine except for the bottom edge, where the pen ink had run together, ruining your script.

"Did you hear about the evaluation today?" Lee asked, with his arm outstretched, offering you one of the Starbucks napkins to dry your notebook.

You hummed in a quizzing tone, signalling you didn't hear about it as you got to work cleaning up the mess before class started. There wasn't much you could do about the few pages that had been destroyed, but thankfully it wasn't the topic you needed at the moment.

"Well," Lee went on assuming you wanted him to continue, "Professor Klotsbach had to officially go on maternity leave so they're giving us someone else for the duration of this year. Apparently they're having this new guy come in today and we get to decide whether we like him or not." Lee said, rustling through his own belongings. "The history majors are saying this is the fifth one this semester."

"Oh? that'll be interesting. I didn't realize she was out already." You stated, throwing the napkins into your coat pocket. At least that meant this class would be easy today and you wouldn't have to worry too much about the notes. You took another sip of your coffee and turned your attention back to the large window to stare at the mountains again. The sun was really starting to come up now, which would hopefully make the walk home warmer. The sunlight shone over the leaves and made its way into the classroom, turning the wood paneling into that comforting auburn color you loved. Even with the weather outside, the inside felt like summer.

You directed your attention back to Lee, who was now back on his phone. You decided you weren't too tired for a conversation.

"I wonder why they're so particular about a professor for a general education course?" You asked, inquiring Lee as though he'd know the ins and outs of how the administration worked. Orpheus was always a semi-prestigious university; you wondered if they did so many evaluations for all the subjects.

"No idea," he said, taking a sip of his own drink, "I guess they wanted insight from other majors as well."

"Ah." You said, thankful that it would at least be some form of deviance from your usual schedule. After this, you and Lee had plans with the rest of your roommates to go to the bistro down the road so you considered today an easy one. A listening lecture followed by a sweet treat was a great morning.

As you were thinking of your plans, the door on the right side of the room finally opened, meaning the professor had officially walked in and class was about to start. Lee put his phone in his pocket although he didn't turn it off, so you assumed he was listening to music. You scavenged in your case for a pencil that wasn't broken and directed your focus to the front of the room, where the evaluated professor would begin.

Your breath hitched in your throat.

This man had to have been about ten years older than you but he was gorgeous. The brown in his eyes and his hair shone under the sun with such elegance; he appeared to be a painting. His brown leather jacket placed stylishly over his buttoned shirt- save for the two at the top- and his dress pants neatly drawn with a belt. An expensive one at that. He looked less like a professor and more like the cover of a teenage romance novel. Even his facial hair was properly trimmed and accentuated the angular curves of his face, which widened into a heartthrobbing smile.

"Hello, I'm Mr. Marcus." He said, turning around and writing it onto the chalkboard with whatever chalk was left in the tray from the class before. He then wiped his hands against each other and stood in front of the desk, leaning against it in an effortless grace as he stared at the class. His eyes scanned the room before they fell on you. It was only for a moment before he looked elsewhere, but you were starstruck and your stomach flipped.

Lee snickered quietly at the face you were making which took you out of your trance. "Dilf season, huh?"

Your cheeks were flushed and your whole body felt hot. It was unlike you to immediately be so caught off-guard. You shook it aside and attributed it to intimidation. That had to be it, you were just nervous of a new professor and at this guy's confident yet inviting demeanor.

"Shut up, Lee." You said with a small smile, so he'd know not to take offense although you were serious. You didn't want to draw any attention to your heart beating wildly in your chest.

As he continued talking, however, the burning in your abdomen only got stronger. There was something to this man, some sense of familiarity that struck you defenseless, although you were unsure as to why. You were certain you'd never seen the man before in your life, yet there was an undeniable pull that rendered you speechless for the rest of the class. He was wonderful at explaining everything in full detail and perfect when it came to answering questions. One thing was for certain though, and that was there'd be no way you could focus on any topic if Mr. Marcus was the professor. Despite how well he performed his job, you just couldn't concentrate. So, when the papers came around at the end of the class for the evaluation, you checked the box stating your disinterest in Mr. Marcus as your professor. How would you be expected to learn in a place where he was the teacher if you were so flustered? All you wanted to do was go home and decompress.

You submitted your paper to the front of the room, Lee in tow. You placed it face down on the desk even though the evaluations were anonymous; you felt awful for the decision you made. How was it fair for him to do everything perfectly and to not be granted the occupation?

As you were about to turn towards the door, you locked eyes with Mr. Marcus. They were a golden honey brown, very similar to the warmth of the room you were in, and they had you entranced. He smiled at you and raised his eyebrows as invitation for conversation, which was when you realized you'd been standing there in front of him with open eyes for longer than you meant to.

"Miss (Y/N), did you enjoy the lecture?" He asked, calm and composed. He must've read your name off the seating arrangement sheet and pieced two and two together.

"Uh, yeah-yes. Yes, I did. I find Rome pretty fascinating." You said, trying to regain your own composure. You smiled back at him in a last effort to appear normal and then walked out of the room and into the large hall where Lee followed close behind.

Alone in the Lecture Hall once all the students had departed, Marcus let out a hitched breath. You must have noticed it too? There was something so off about you and he was immediately drawn to your presence the minute he'd entered the room. It was as if he'd bumped into you before, only this odd feeling of familiarity was far more intense than anything he'd encountered before.

He learned against the desk for support and reached for the evaluation papers. He remembered exactly which one you'd placed down as he counted the number of sheets placed on top. He was unsure as to why he needed this clarification so badly, as if the evaluation was going to be enough insight as to how you truly felt about him.

You'd written that he performed everything perfectly. Checked all the boxes showing the administrators that he'd done as he should. But, at the end of the form, you'd written you didn't want him to have the job.

He smiled to himself, just slightly. He must've been overreacting.

...

It was with disdain that his eyes followed yours, the vituperative look etched into his skin. He appeared no older, even with the worry lines becoming apparent as he frowned; kohl seemingly molded into the flesh of his face with its darkness around his eyes. His tunic adorned with goldened jewelry held his red cloak fastened at his shoulder, which swiftly moved side to side as he walked about the palace floor. With his domineering personality and flamboyant demeanor, one could argue he very much belonged here. But those who truly knew him, such as you, would argue the complete opposite. A child in the body of man, ruling over the Roman Empire with the ability to kill any one of the men who'd built the imperial palace with the flick of his wrist.

And to think, he was your brother.

Emperor Geta manically moved back and forth, his steps echoing in the greatness of the hall where the two of you stood. Your other misfortune of a sibling somewhere entranced by his monkey, you presumed. Even with neither of them being much too intelligent, Geta was definitely the force to be reckoned with. This flurry of anger he felt was often of your own doing and today was no different- although the situation was more dire than previous mishaps.

What was usual sibling banter had turned into something fierce, unforgiving. It seemed as though the two of you no longer stood on the same plane and no words could be spoken to alleviate the tenseness between you two.

"There's a traitor-" He began, voice laced with more anger than anything else now that the shock had subsided. "Someone is helping the Senate to conspire against us. A traitor within the castle?" Geta dramatically flung his fingers over his heart and buried it into the fabric of his dress, steadying himself from falling as if he were intoxicated.

"I've heard nothing of the sort, brother." You let out, hardly above a whisper. It felt wrong for the secret to spill past your lips after all this time of keeping it. Although this had been going on for nearly five months, to speak it aloud even partially breathed it into existence. You, who had no family other than Geta and Caracalla, were plotting the demise of both of them. Rome was a collective and you'd been appointed to preserve the democracy of the people- something your brothers had turned into tyranny under their rule. However, it seemed as though they'd just caught wind of the plot without knowing who was leading the rebellion. Of course, Geta would eventually figure it out but the best thing you could do would be to deny anything that would lead to you or Acacius. He would have his head by morn and yours by the next.

Geta focused his eyes toward the nearest column so as not to look at you, forcing himself to tongue over the idea as it repeated within his head. His ornate laurel wreath crown he wore glistened in the light from above, casting a radiant glow on the floor. He was beautiful, if undeservingly so.

"Geta." You started, still fighting the fear that was always prevalent when conversing with your brother, "You are the emperor. Who would dare conspire against you?" you asked, knowing you had to do damage control. It all felt too real and too sudden for anything to happen just yet, this was unplanned. There was still so much more to be done and now that Geta had heard, Caracalla would be next to be informed- potentially halting the senate from being able to make a proper move. Your brothers would behead them all and force you to watch.

There had to be an informant within the Senate, someone who sided with your brothers in hopes of some grand reward for ratting you out. If they told Geta of the uprising, there's no telling how long it would take until they knew you and Acacius were leading it.

Suddenly, it was as if the color returned to Geta's white painted face. The creases that had formed out of worry now resumed with a smile so horrid and vile that your stomach seemed to drop to your toes with dread. The redhead inched closer to you until he was standing directly before you, inches away from your faltering breath. Smug look upon his face with his hands placed behind his back, he whispered in your ear the one thing you never wanted to hear from him.

"Make sure to relay this message to the Senate. If I hear of any further plans or catch the name of anyone involved within the operation, I will make sure the streets of Rome run red with their excrements."

Your veins turned to ice. It was as if your body had become as still as the marble statues surrounding the two of you. The sunlight hitting your brother's hair was not a warm and comforting light, but the light of a thousand fires ready to destroy anything within its path. You could smell the antimony from his makeup, and it was churning your stomach the longer you stood next to him. And then, he pulled you into a forceful embrace.

"You're my brethren, (Y/N). But bloodshed triumphs over blood. My mercy doesn't spill out of my fingertips such as the weak do. I am to carry on the tree of my lineage and I will do so from the seed of my power. Don't let me ever hear my dear sister has fallen into the conspiracy of the people."

Then he left, and a piece of your soul died with the slam of the door behind him.

...

General Marcus Acacius, still clad in the paludamentum from the evening's dinner, gathered himself after a lengthy conversation with some of his troops. He was fortunate for the day's conquer, but he was entirely ready to return to his chambers to meet with his love; hoping she could soothe the grievances that emanated from his soul. A slight glance into the reflection of the gate showed a man worn down by war. Physically and spiritually he felt beaten and old. His face, which had appeared so bright when he'd first started his efforts, had now succumbed to the weight he felt inside. He was duller than the man he'd always been. A light had been extinguished and would never again be set aflame. His body felt as though it were an empty chamber, hollow with only the sounds of the maternal screaming he heard from war. Mothers calling home their only sons that would stay calling for the remainder of their lives. Praying for the boys who'd become soldiers, fallen under an empire that prided themselves on greatness.

The Romans were cruel murderers. And he did their bidding.

Trying his best to push his stressors aside, he stepped into the small garden flanking the back perimeter of the palace, knowing that was your usual place upon nightfall. The fountain seemed to hum as the water rushed down into the basin. The sounds of bugs chirping filled his ears. The calmness of the fire tamed within the confines of the torches made flickering shadows upon the stones beneath his feet.

And then, there was you. Turning to face him once he'd entered the palace and meeting his gaze. He'd sworn he never understood the meaning of goddess until he'd met you. From the first encounter at the palace, Acacius knew he was in love. Every statue and painting couldn't compare to the beauty that radiated off you, he knew. Your eyes were pools of mystery and your skin softer than the sheets lining the bed you shared, fragile under the callouses of his hands that were worn by the hilt of his sword. You were a delicacy. He thought you were more striking than the sun itself.

The word love would never be enough to describe the power that flowed through his veins upon the mere mention of your name or the gentleness of your kiss.

You were here in your usual palla, the purple dye of the fabric shimmering under the soft glow of the fire. Your face was hardened into a concerned expression and your lips were downturned. What was usually a gleeful expression when your fiancé returned home safely seemed to be just a little short of animosity.

Acacius immediately went to place his hands gently at your sides, pulling you in slightly with a quizzical look, assessing for any physical ailments. "What troubles you, my Lady?"

You wanted to cry, to scream, to let out all your frustrations through vile words such as your brothers did, but you felt so beaten down you couldn't even formulate the words. Acacius had done nothing wrong but be within your proximity. And now your lover would be subjected to the unforgiving wrath of Geta.

"My Lady?" He asked once more, softer this time. He had a rough day, you could tell, and his forehead lines became more apparent as his brows furrowed. His beard was trimmed but not shaven, so as not to flaunt off some of the scars he'd gathered below his nose. He had one on his cheek and one on the back of his hand that you would run your fingers over in an intimate embrace. He was beautiful, even with the years of war embroidered into his skin. He was your heart.

"It's Geta," you finally mustered, holding Acacius's hand to your cheek and letting a tear fall, "he's enlightened to our uprising."

It was the General's turn to express his worry. "How was he informed?" Hs asked, pulling you in for a stiff hug as he was still wearing his breastplate.

"Macrinus must have caught word after last night's gathering. W-we were so careful, I-"

"Shh." Acacius said, slowly rubbing circles into your back, "We'll be okay, we'll find a way." He said this almost so convincingly you wanted to believe it yourself. But you knew Geta would do his best to punish you in every way humanly possible. There would be no escaping.

"We can run away before they find out its us-"

"To where? We both have the faces of those known in Rome, we'll never even make it past the gate without our identities being revealed. And then what? Where will we go that has no promise of being conquered?" He asked, holding onto you as though your arms alone would ground him. "And (Y/N), you know my heart belongs to you and the people. I couldn't leave one in place of the other."

Any form of democracy was going to be dead if your brothers continued to be the ultimate monarchs the were. Their reign had caused nothing but horrors to the people .

"Geta may want my head when he finds out, but he'll never kill you," Acacius said, looking into your eyes, "He'd never kill our kin." At this, his hand dropped to your stomach, caressing the top of it gently.

"You will not die without me." You said, knowing what he would suggest in the hopes of keeping you safe. "I will not allow it."

"And then what? You die and there will be no hope. Not for the people or politics or our son. My work to free us from the grasp of Rome will be for nought."

Your tears started to cascade down your face as quickly as they came, taking your kohl along with it. This was unfair. All of it was unfair. You wanted nothing to do with your brothers or ruling or Rome or anything. All you'd hoped for was to live peacefully in a world without it- how foolish.

"I love you, Acacius. You know this." You said, burying your face into his shoulder. You took in the metallic scent of his breastplate, trying to ease yourself. You knew as a general that he would never leave Rome defenseless.

"As I love you," he said, moving you gently so you were facing each other, "You know what has to be done."

You composed yourself and met his eyes, trying to find solace in them. He felt more like family than the insufferable gingers you shared a bloodline with. And you knew you'd do anything to protect the family you made for yourself, even if that meant sacrificing the birth one.

"We have to kill them." You said. You found the words didn't trouble as much as you thought they might.

[reginalusus]

I am impressed with your work! I'm still on my way to explore Bruharvey. Maybe you have some headcanons for them, maybe something from a previous life when both were in college?

Aweee, thank you... <3

My Bruharvey headcanon: Harvey is taller than Bruce and Bruce is a whimpering, pining mess for him. Harvey is an oblivious dumbass. Scarvey knows and weaponizes it. That is all. Goodbye.

Ok, fine. <3

But oh, God, my Bruharvey is kinda rusty but here I go. I don't have many headcanons around the college era of their lives because it's not a particular era that kind of... interests me? Except for a few things which I will indulge in down the list. You know what? I'll be fair and do five for each.

Childhood

Harvey was the curser of the two. Bruce would always try to get him to stop using such language, but it made him laugh, and is there anything more addictive to a sad child than laughing?

Bruce always knew he liked Harvey, even as a child. He couldn't quite explain it yet obviously, this odd feeling of puppy love, but there was always something about his friendship that felt different from others.

Bruce would buy makeup/supplies for Harvey to help cover/hide his bruises and wounds. People at school talk. It's the least he could do.

Harvey would take advantage of his father's drunken comas to sneak out of the house and play with Bruce until the street lights came on. I DO imagine Chris disapproved of Harvey's relationship with Bruce, but that's EXTREME HC territory with no real canon to help me explain.

Scarv was beginning to rear his head as Harvey approached his tweens. It came with headaches, bad nausea, frightening voices, fatigue, so much so that Bruce's worry for Harvey only worsened when Harvey suddenly wouldn't show up at their meeting place to play and hang out.

College

Harvey's crush on Bruce starts to bloom. But it's shattered to pieces frequently because Bruce is a man that seems to get around. He always seems to be talking about a girl he thinks likes him or a boy he's thinking of asking out.

When Harvey gets drunk, Bruce would engage/prompt him into some silly courtroom roleplay. He'd claim it was 'practice'. Sometimes, when the verdict was reached, there was a kiss. Or two. Maybe more.

Bruce begins to notice that a stressed Harvey seems to own an odd rasp to his speech. He becomes snappy out of apparently nowehere, and he doesn't seem to recall what they talked about moments prior. Bruce's search history suddenly becomes less focused on his studies and more of symptom checking.

Bruce has joked about Harvey gaining some extra cash by being a nude model for art students. Little does he know the impact this will have later.

Harvey will show coin tricks to people at parties as a conversation starter. Bruce doesn't have the heart to tell him how dorkish it makes him look - mainly because he loves it.

Adulthood

Bruce would frequently come around to Harvey's DA office when he could, normally with flowers and a proposal to try and get him off work. 9/10 times he failed.

People seem to forget that Harvey is also good at detective work. So I bring upon you this (which I have mentioned before): Harvey sometimes gets a whiff of faint aftershave on Batman that's... oddly familiar. The practicing grips of CQC are... vaguely familiar also. When he's with Bruce, what's with the odd calluses on his palms?

Bruce is a strong man; he can cope with a lot of horrible, mental images. He can power through almost anything. But Harvey's various suicide attempts are one of the few things that haunt him.

Bruce uses himself as a grounding mechanism for Harvey's bad derealization/dissociation episodes. He'll guide Harvey's hands over him, asking him what he feels, how it feels.

Harvey and Scarvey are fascinated with Bruce's duality. Harvey, in canon, has said that he finds Bruce's duality beautiful. Harvey takes particular interest in the Bruce Wayne persona, Scarvey takes interest in the Batman persona. For both philosophical AND romantic reasons.

And a cheeky sixth one: Harvey will always be the gorgeous Apollo to Bruce, even with the scars, the stressed aging, the sins on his back. One day, he will utter it in Harvey's ear. He will not be prepared for how this backfires.

I have been thinking about them a little lately. A lot of people talk about them in an AU sense or when they were younger and before the Canon Event which is fine and sweet and all, and still interesting in its own right. But, personally, these two interest me most when they are at their most seasoned. Two aging men with the world on their backs and their worldview changed by a city that refuses to change. When said city has completely digested them. How two men burdened by duality can make each other feel like one. That's my interest. But anyway, headcanons!