#they take the guise of a family

[hypewinter]

After reforming Dan, Danny gets it into his head that he can reform Pariah Dark too. He takes a break from his kingly duties to go down to Earth. Both as a way to teach Pariah the wonders of humanity and to make sure Dan has actually changed his ways.

[thedragonagelesbian]

theres not enough sebmancing content about hawke being left in the fade.

[summer-fire]

Thinking about the girl in college that came in one year saying she had heterochromia even tho she didn’t the year prior and multiple people went to high school with her, who also knew she didn’t have heterochromia.

[abyssalpriest]

if i disappear after saying that ive been assassinated no jokes aside if i take that down its not bc i disagree with it, you can still pin it on me as a belief that i think that shit should be said and ill put my whole ass behind it, but saying shit like that has consequences lmfao. also theres a time and a place to bring that up

[youregonnabeokay-kid]

i think a lot of people (especially those who haven’t read the books) are underestimating Hades

yes, he presents as the sassy queer uncle who’s done with his family’s drama, but he’s not “just some guy”

when his Helm is stolen, no one knows about it. he uses his own resources and orchestrates a plan to bring Percy to the underworld alive, all while managing an entire freaking kingdom

he doesn’t threaten war because he doesn’t have to and he knows it. unlike Zeus, he keeps a level head and thinks about the situation logically

think about Percy’s priorities throughout the show, look at what the flashbacks are teaching us about him and his relationship with others. think logically. this is a 12 year old kid who grew up with a single mom and no friends

his priority is his mom, it’s always been his mom and Hades knows that. Percy’s worst fear is losing his mother and Hades uses that against him

he takes Sally before Poseidon claims Percy because he has eyes everywhere. he already knew who Percy was and he already had a plan formed before Percy even set foot in camp

when he greets Percy and Grover he isn’t surprised, relieved, or agitated because he planned this. he knew that Percy would come to him whether by force or by his own choice (for my book readers, think about this in comparison to how Zeus reacts to the situation. Zeus comes off as desperate and angry, whereas Hades is at ease. annoyed, sure, but never panicked)

when he offers them pomegranate juice it’s in the guise of politeness and humour but it has an underlying meaning. Percy knows the stories about Hades and Hades knows that he knows. the pomegranate juice is a reminder, it’s Hades demonstrating his power without outright threatening Percy. it’s him going “I can make something as small as a pomegranate seed into a weapon” it’s him asserting his dominance and control over the situation

he leads them to a seating area clearly made for their arrival. another reminder that he knew they were coming and Sally stands, frozen in the middle of it as a reminder of what they have to lose

when he learns that it’s Kronos behind the robberies he immediately offers sanctuary to Percy, Grover, and his mom. Kronos, the king of titans, the father of all Gods, and a being who could once tear the world in two with the snap of his fingers, wants Percy, and Hades offers to protect him because he’s that powerful

so yes, Hades makes dad jokes and he talks in a way you wouldn’t expect an all-powerful being to talk, but he isn’t “just some guy”

he’s powerful, he knows it, and he shows just enough of that power to absolutely terrify Percy

[tacticalprincess]

john “i’m in no rush to have kids” price who’s the #1 baby bandit at every neighborhood/family function. making friends with all the poor moms just so he can hold their babies under the guise of “giving them a break” except they almost never see them again. it’s like a second nature, longing written in the way he coos down at them with fondness crinkling at his eyes, cradles them in his strong arms while he helps barbecue or watches sports. if that isn’t ovulation fuel enough, how reluctant he is to part ways with them at the end of the night has you so ready to give him a couple he gets to take home.

[lalunanymph]

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 ─── as the last woman on earth, a government bounty marks you as humanity’s only hope for repopulation. unexpectedly, stumbling into your college football team becomes your lifeline, but instead of turning you in, they want to impregnate you on their own terms.

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 ─── you're now reading . . . 𝐆𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐁𝐀𝐍𝐆 + 𝐁𝐑𝐄𝐄𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐊 with isagi yoichi, itoshi rin, barou shoei, kunigami rensuke, chigiri hyoma, nagi seishiro & mikage reo

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 ─── fem!reader, mentions of sexism in medicine, gangbang, breeding, cunninlingus, unprotected s*x, mild degradation, reader gets spanked once, mentions of food, mentions of babies, mentions of pregnancy, reverse harem, reader gets kidnapped, creampies, double penetration, nipple play, mentions of viral outbreaks, home isolation, mentions of human torture and experimentation, apocalypse AU, dark content ahead (10k+ words i am sick in the head)

⇤flip back to the pervtober masterlist

One thing about life you were coming to find out in your short existence, was that it could change in the blink of an eye.

One day, you’re a popular cheerleader everyone loves, on the Dean’s List and speeding through to a life of accolades and financial stability, then the next, a viral outbreak spirals out of control, infecting and offing only women. 

It started with rapid coughing and sneezing. Many expert scientists cited a woman's inferior immune system compared to men. They barely paid any attention to the growing casualties in one half of the population, just like how they turned a blind eye to PCOS or the persistent chronic pain most women seemed to experience throughout their lives.��

As the voices of one half went unheard, the dire consequences slapped mankind fully in the face. 

Birth rates dropped, many nations lost their manpower and society became increasingly violent and hostile. 

Those women that were left were transferred to medical facilities under the guise of rehabilitating them. But, there were the rumours of abuse and medical experiments that arose from shady forums and chat groups. 

You had read some of them from Jienna’s laptop when she was still alive.

Your best friend and roommate was an advocate for women’s rights, even before the world hadn’t gone to shit, and she was the first one who opened your eyes to the blatant mistreatment women were going through official medical channels. When the virus hit, the both of you huddled in your shared dormitory, trading packets of ramen and stories while waiting for more aid to come. 

She always had such a bright smile and determination. The day the virus took her away from you was one you could never forget. 

Jienna laid on her bed, a grey pallor overtaking her once radiant skin. The skincare she religiously applied was gathering dust on her dresser, and everytime she exhaled, it sounded coarser and coarser.

Eventually, she closed her eyes and never awoke again, and you had to page the medical team to extract her body, all while tears streamed down your cheeks and you were hovering on the edge of a full meltdown.

Your family across the country couldn’t even come and see you; your brothers were barred from taking you back home, as every woman in the district was given strict orders to remain at home and behind locked doors to keep the virus away. 

But, it always managed to slip through the cracks. Whether it was from infected food or contaminated medical equipment. 

The virus killed any female it touched.

News reports began surfacing that hens were dying out, impacting the supply of eggs. Cows were dropping dead in fields, the world’s milk supply running dry for the first time in existence. The pregnant black cat you used to feed behind your dorms was found dead behind a dumpster by a group of computer science boys. 

Slowly, the world descended into chaos, and more and more women were disappearing.

It was exactly day 40 of your lockdown when you decided you would run away.

Packing every non-perishable canned food you could find into a big bag, you waited until dusk fell and when the nurses would hand you your dinner. You knew it would be one of the older security guys who used to direct parking on your campus, and he had a bad hip so he couldn’t chase you down. 

As much as you hated hurting him, the first punch in his face was enough to knock him out cold. You hopped over his body, careening down the hallway and pushing yourself towards the outside of the college campus. 

Luck was on your side when you dashed out the front door to find an idle truck. It was from one of the block rangers, and you didn’t hesitate to jump inside of it, revving the engine and stepping down on the gas pedal. 

Someone yelled out your name, but you were too fired up to care. In your mind, you decided it would be better to die from the virus than staying cooped up for the rest of your life. At least with dying, you would be free. 

You had no plan and no idea what to do next but to race towards the closest abandoned building you could find. Jienna had told you about it during her dying days—how there was a series of abandoned buildings just at the edge of town where defiant women stayed the last of their days there. 

Having seen with your own eyes what the virus did to your roommate, you were sure you were prepared to go out the same way. There would be a few days where your immune system fought back, but without the right food and care, you would waste yourself away.

Better than being trapped forever in a small dorm. You viciously gunned the engine and raced towards that shining beacon of hope. 

The buildings out of town were abandoned like Jienna said, and you prepared to set up your death camp. The concrete slab walls were drab and the floor was too hard and cold to sleep on, but you made do with a blanket you managed to steal from the lobby. 

Days passed and soon, you were starting to wonder if the virus was even real. Your meals consisted of canned beans and whatever scraps you could find in the dumpster nearby. You didn’t dare to light a fire in case it might attract someone’s attention, and your showers were virtually non-existent.

Maybe I shouldn’t have left the dorms. 

Those thoughts of ‘what if’ and ‘should haves’ kept you up at night and haunted your waking moments. 

One day, you thought you heard footsteps echoing down the hallways, but then, you found out it was just a bunch of squatters looking for a place to sleep. They turned their nose up on the squalor and left you alone feeling bemused and a little disappointed that not even the lowest rank of humanity would want to spend a night at a place you consistently slept in. 

But, your newfound freedom was too good to be true.

It had been too quiet and too peaceful. The bubble was waiting to pop and your hopes burst one day when you awoke in cold sweat to hear a man’s voice down the hallways.

“... heard she escaped here…” 

“Are you sure?” 

The fatigue weighing you down shot out of your system and you sat up ramrod straight, rushing to get your goods without making a sound. 

“No news of… gotta be the last one in the vicinity…” 

You hurriedly stuffed your blanket into your backpack, taking care not to breathe too loud in case they might hear. The beam of a flashlight pricked your irises, and having lived for a while in the dark, you weren’t used to such brightness.

Squinting, you stayed close to the walls, slinging your bag onto your shoulders and preparing to depart down a flight of steps straight into the forest fringing these buildings. Your flexibility as a cheerleader back in your old life helped you out to creep on the floors quietly, extending one leg and then another while keeping close to the walls. 

However, you didn’t see where your foot landed, and before you could stop in mid-step, the empty can of beans went clattering to the ground.

For a split second, all you could hear was your breath and the rush of blood in your ears.

The beam of light immediately swung towards your direction, illuminating your left leg and the implicated empty can in question. 

Shit. You had been discovered.

“Wait!” One of the men yelled, but you didn’t stop to listen. Hightailing it out of here, you sprinted to the entrance, about to escape into the night when you felt a bigger body slam into you from the side. 

Screaming out, you barely caught a glimpse of your perpetrator, but he was holding you down with his larger body, pinning you right to the dirty ground.

“Got her!” he yelled back to other men. “It’s a girl! She’s here!” 

You blindly reached your hand out and felt the sharp edge of a rock cut into your palm. Swinging it towards him, you bashed the side of his head, and in the glimpses of light from the shining moon up ahead, you caught sight of his vivid, dark hair. 

The man yelped and stumbled back, staunching the heavy flow of blood oozing from his right cheek.

“Fuck!” he bellowed, and you used his momentum of shock to push him off of you. 

But, he had enough dexterity to clamp a hand around your knee, bringing you back down to the ground. 

“No!” you started to scream and sob. “Please! Let me go!” 

Someone else came to his rescue, holding you down. You felt ropes around your wrists, drawing them behind your back. Your sobs were muffled by a bag thrown over your head, and for good measure, they tied your ankles, too. It took two of them to carry you into a car, and you were laid on someone’s lap, his arms roping around you and pressing you to his chest. 

As the men piled back into the car, you started to sob when you heard the engine ignite. 

“Ssh, it’s okay,” the man who held you crooned. “It’s gonna be fine, Y/N.” 

Through your tears, you recognized that they knew your name. 

A hand touched your knee, rubbing it soothingly. “We’re not here to hurt you.”

That voice. You had heard it before. It brought to mind dark blue eyes and a mop of dark hair. A pair of toned legs tearing through a football field and a charming, lopsided smile.

“I-Isagi?” 

He hummed. “It’s me, Y/N. Barou’s holding you, by the way.” 

In answer, the self-proclaimed king of the field back from when your college days consisted of study horrors and not a world crisis, flooded your mind with stark familiarity when he exhaled out your name. 

“Hey, Y/N.” 

“It’s the boys from the football team,” Isagi informed you, like you were on a road trip with them instead of forcefully being kidnapped against your own will. 

“H-how did you find me?” The bag they stuffed over your head smelled musty, and you struggled to talk through it. “C-can you get this fucking thing off my head?” 

Someone pried the sack off, and you inhaled in deep gusts of air, your wide eyes taking in the darkened interior of this truck and the boys who were holding you hostage. 

Isagi had lost a bit of weight since you last saw him. The last you heard of the Blue Lock team’s co-captain was that he had lost his mother to the virus and the school had started a fund for him to cover her funeral expenses. Turning your eyes towards the man who was holding you, Barou’s jaw was tight, and his eyes were heavy with dark circles.

The man driving was Kunigami, whose hands were white-knuckled fists on the steering wheel. Next to him in the passenger, bleeding out from his cheek, was Itoshi Rin. You noticed how he side-eyed you from the front, and returned his evasive look with a frosty glare. 

Lastly, at the back of this 8-seater was Chigiri, Nagi and Reo—the former two being the most unlikely combination of acquaintances you had ever seen join this ragtag group of football bros. Nagi and Reo were famous for being fused at the hip since they both started their business degree courses together. They rarely fraternised with anyone else outside of their coursemates, much less kidnap some random woman. 

At the reminder of your predicament, you squirmed, accidentally rubbing your ass all over Barou’s crotch. He didn’t react beyond a low hiss of, “Quit it,” those thick and sturdy arms tightening around your trembling body. You tried to ignore how you could feel something hard poking your lower back. 

“Why did you kidnap me?” you demanded off the bat. “How did you find me? What are you going to do with me?” 

Those rapid questions were met with silence. You flitted your gaze to each of them, and through the passing snatches of orange streetlights, you saw every one of their expressions drenched in guilt. 

“We… don’t know.” 

Isagi was the one who spoke first, preparing himself to earn your rage.

“You don’t know?” you mumbled, growing more incensed every minute with how they had wrenched you from your peaceful life in the ruins. “You don’t know where you’re taking me. What you’re planning to do with me. You don’t know the reason why you went through all that trouble to track me down. You don’t—”

“It’s because you have a bounty on your head.”

Rin’s voice cut through your growing tirade, leaving you cold with disbelief.

“I… what?” 

On your right, Isagi nodded, rubbing the back of his neck like he would rather be somewhere else than in this vehicle having such a difficult conversation. 

“After you escaped, the officials posted your bounty and your suspected whereabouts. Um, it’s uh… well, Y/N… you’re the last woman alive from our college.” 

You exhaled, feeling your chest constrict and tears prick your eyes. 

All your lecturers… your friends… your cheerleading gang… 

“Are they all gone?” The boys didn’t comment on your thick voice or the unshed tears. 

Kunigami was the first one to express his remorse. “I’m sorry, Y/N. That’s the truth.” 

Rin decided to rip the bandaid off quicker, leaving you reeling in confusion and despair. “The authorities put up notices for you because your status was unknown. They said that anyone who brought you back—dead or alive—would receive two million yen.”

The reality of your situation settled in like sentiment falling to the bottom of a glass jar. 

You felt cold all over, your heartbeat right in your throat.

“So, you’re either going to k-kill me or turn me in, huh?” 

Your heavy question was met with silence. 

Surprisingly, it was Nagi at the back who piped up in his lazy, drawling tone. “Actually… we have a better plan.” 

Isagi was the first to react. He shot Nagi a murderous look, shaking his head. Kunigami glanced at the white-haired man through the rearview mirror with narrowed eyes, and Rin’s scowl deepened. Chigiri, who had been quiet throughout this entire exchange, sighed out, “Idiot” under his breath.

The only one who looked supportive of what Nagi had to say was—no surprise there—Reo himself.

“It’s a good plan! She’s still healthy,” he argued on behalf of his best friend. Nagi nodded, humming. 

“The virus should’ve taken her out weeks ago, but she managed to survive all on her own in such dirty conditions… I really think we should give it a shot.”

The air in the car changed; thickening and becoming ripe with tension. Barou’s arms suddenly felt too hot around your body, and you broke out into a sweat.

“It could work,” Isagi started out slowly, rubbing his chin. He had a look on his face you knew all too well—that calculative, goal-hungry stare that would eventually destroy his enemies. 

Rin tilted his head towards the backseat, his turquoise eyes drawing circles on the car’s water-stained ceiling. “Do you think that would be legal for us to do?” 

“We have to keep her hidden.” Chigiri spoke up, demanding everyone's attention. “The authorities can’t know that we have a woman with us or we’d be punished. We have to be very careful with Y/N.”

You were still drawing blanks on their ideas, growing more frustrated every single second you were kept in the dark from their decisions on your fate. “What do you fucking assholes mean? Legal? Keeping me away from the authorities? What do you want with me?” 

Your voice broke on the last question, and without warning, you started to sob. The weeks of roughing it out on your own, trying to escape from society and hide in plain sight were taking its toll on you. You wept bitterly, hiding your face behind your hair and sobbing into your shoulder.

“Shit,” someone muttered in the front. 

“Give her some water.” 

It was Isagi who gently coaxed your face from your shoulder, holding a bottle of clean water. You contemplated spitting a mouthful at him, but ultimately, your thirst won out and you drank deeply. 

He wiped your tears off with the sleeve of his threadbare sweater and you hiccuped into a silence, already accepting your death. 

“We don’t want to hurt you,” Reo murmured from the back. You lifted your swollen, red eyes to find his purple ones full of sincerity. “We actually want to keep you safe. There’s been rumours about human experiments and none of us want you to go through that. We want to keep you safe.”

You should’ve known the group’s appointed spokesperson would be a man used to spouting sweet words to get his way—whether with professors or girls—but a part of you wanted to believe Reo. You were so, so tired of fending for yourself, you wanted someone to help you with the burden of being a woman in these unacceptable times. 

“Yes, Y/N.” Rin’s sudden reassurance struck you dumb with disbelief. “We have our old frat house—nobody comes by there anymore. We’ll keep you safe there and you can rest.” 

It all sounded too good to be true. Here was a band of college footballers being completely sweet with you—wanting to protect, nurture and keep you hidden. But, you were waiting for the other shoe to drop; the catch in this arrangement. 

“There’s more,” you whispered, scenting out their bullshit. “You’re not telling me the real reason.” 

Men were never good liars—that much you could tell. So, when every single footballer glanced at the other, your senses were in red alert, demanding to uncover what was the terrible footnote to this otherwise flawless proposal.

“Well?” you muttered coldly, strengthening your resolve. “What do you want from me? What’s the catch?” 

Reo was quick to turn your question around. “What? There’s no catch—”

“There is.” It was Isagi who spoke, sounding resigned and tired in the dimming darkness. “There is a catch. We shouldn’t lie to her, guys. We all agreed to tell her the truth if we found her and she was willing to listen.” 

You held your breath, waiting for Isagi to drop the bomb. He seemed like he needed a moment to stabilise himself. He drew in a deep breath and unlocked his shoulders, looking you square in the eye. You half-wished he had kept you in the dark; never told you the truth. Because what he said next completely swept you off your feet, landing you onto the ground face-first and gasping in disbelief.

“It’s not about rewards or money—it’s about duty. We need your help to repopulate this city, Y/N… we want you to carry one of our babies.” 

You felt a pair of broad-set shoulders shake under your smaller frame, the man underneath you stretching out his kinks and stiff muscles after a night of good sleep. 

“Hm,” he groaned, brushing a hand down your bare spine. “Good morning, angel.” 

Reo’s husky voice drew you back into consciousness, and you whined, burying your face into his neck to hide yourself from the morning’s glare. He chuckled at your antics, nosing your hair and pressing soft kisses onto your temple. “C’mon, sweetheart. It’s Rin’s turn with you today.” 

Without missing a beat or opening your eyes, you mumbled: “Maybe you should all fuck me at one go so you guys can see who’s strong enough to knock me up.” 

You meant those words as a joke, but when Reo’s shoulders stiffened, you suddenly realised the depth of danger you were flirting with. 

“Don’t say such things you’ll regret, sweetheart,” he meant to tease you, gently easing you off his chest. “Or, the boys won’t stop until you give each one of us a baby.” 

You tried to laugh, to shake off the sudden unease. Today was Wednesday, and Wednesdays meant pancake days in this unconventional household. You got up and slipped on Reo’s shirt, fluffing out your shorter hair. The guys had insisted you cut your locks so that it would be easier to hide them under a baseball cap and pass you off as a man if anyone came looking. 

Sometimes, you did miss your femininity, but in a world where it was literally dying out, you couldn’t take any chances. 

Flashing Reo a smile, you hummed. “Don’t laze around too much like Nagi—I’m making breakfast.” 

In the living room, Bachira was the only one up and awake, his bright golden eyes following your every move as you wished him good morning and prepared your ingredients. Without a sound, he slipped behind you, calloused hands warm on your bare belly. 

“Morning, beautiful,” he whispered into your ear, making goosebumps rise on your arms. 

“Morning, Meguru,” you mumbled, trying to ignore how his hands were creeping up to your bare breasts. Living with seven men meant that you were subjected to their advances night and day. It got even worse when you had told them you missed your period last week, but your cycle turned out to be just a few days late. 

That didn’t stop them from feeling you up, grasping your hips or pressing soft kisses to your neck when you least expected it. Like now, with Bachira’s hot breath bathing the sensitive strip of your jaw. 

Meguru hadn’t been part of your kidnapping heist a few weeks ago, but he had shown up when Isagi called—ready to be of service and contribute his portion in repopulating your tiny, dying town. 

Clicking your tongue at the price tag on the egg carton, you flipped the cardboard cover closed, affronted by the steep spike in those numbers. 

“It’s getting bad out there, right?” 

Bachira paused his efforts in running his nose down your neck, taken off guard by your sudden question. “Um. Yeah. Why’d you ask, princess?” 

Because I haven’t seen the outside world in weeks. You swallowed your bitterness, focused on whipping the yolks into a golden perfection. The boys were doing their best to make you feel cosy and safe within these walls; you couldn’t be too ungrateful. They didn’t let you out for fear of someone catching sight of you—that’s why the windows and doors were all covered and barricaded.

They restricted your contact with only seven of them because they didn’t want an anonymous tip-off to result in you being taken away. 

Every Blue Lock player was careful to protect their golden ace. 

“Nothing,” you hummed in the breeziest voice you could muster. “Just curious, s’all.” 

“Hmm.” Bachira’s hands moved up to your naked tits moving freely under Reo’s bigger t-shirt. “You smell like him,” he accused you softly with a nip to your ear. “That stupid rich boy.” 

“Don’t tell me you’re jealous,” you tried not to smirk, but failed. 

“Nah.” Bachira’s fingers trailed to your stiffening nipples, still sore from Reo’s ministrations (he loved biting down on them while you rode him) and eased the soft flesh in between his thumb and forefinger. “I was waiting for my turn—can’t believe I have to share you with those bastards.” You tried not to gasp and push your body back to meet his pelvis halfway, failing miserably to measure a cup full of milk. Some of the liquid sloshed onto your wrist and you heard Meguru snort. 

“I love how sensitive you are, baby.” 

Biting on your lower lip to stifle a whine, you pushed your ass back to brush the front of his pants, finding him already hard and waiting. 

Bachira was one of the more eager boys, and you had to pace yourself and him less he fucked you on this counter and ruined Rin’s day with you. 

“Meguru—”

“I know, I know,” he groaned, sounding both lustful and disappointed. “You’re emo Itoshi’s tonight. Fucking stupid stick game.” Cursing himself for literally getting the shorter end of the stick, you felt his pout imprint on your skin. “But, can’t we have a little bit of fun, baby? Can I eat your pussy out at least?” 

You literally throbbed at his words, and almost gave in to the rushing desire sweeping you off your feet. Almost—until you heard Isagi’s voice knocking the both of you out of this lust-filled fog.

“Hey. What’re you both doing?” 

While you smelled a threat, Bachira smelled an opportunity. His grin was shark-like, cutting through the tension when he didn’t stop playing with your nipples or back down when you hissed out his name. 

“What’s it look like? I’m trying to fuck her.” 

You tensed, waiting for Isagi to be pissed off. He was the one who reinforced this one-night sharing rule, and to see his best friend blatantly disregarding it would set off his rigid ego. 

But, to your surprise, Isagi tilted his head, taking note of your flushed cheeks and glassy eyes. “I think she… she likes it.” 

Bachira glanced down to find your mouth parted slightly, brows furrowed with a deceptive look of pain when both men knew what it was. Desire. 

Isagi, who could smell a goal or a wrench in the plans from a mile away, started to chuckle. 

“Lift up her shirt. Continue playing with her nipples, Meguru.” 

“Yes, captain,” Bachira sang, and lifted the hem of Reo’s sleep shirt up to expose your puffy, swollen nipples. 

“Shit,” Isagi breathed, and you didn’t miss how he had to adjust himself through his shorts, those dark blue eyes eclipsed with a dark, unnamed emotion you were terrified to uncover. “They look so perfect and pointy.” 

Bachira rolled your sensitive buds between his two fingers, ignoring your soft yelp and flinch when he began to tug on them with a bit more force. “Huh—it really is. Reo must’ve prepped her nicely for us.” 

“For what?” 

The voice of another lover joined the fray. You peeled your watery eyes up to find Reo’s curious expression sweeping between his two friends and your own flushed face. He didn’t seem angry that you were being fondled by Bachira in broad daylight—in fact, Reo looked like he didn’t feel anything. 

He almost looked bored, sweeping those purplish hues to Isagi. “So, are we finally doing it?” 

“Hmm.” 

Doing what? You wanted to ask, but your head was tilted back, mouth falling open only for it to be filled by Bachira’s tongue coaxing yours to come and play with his. His kiss—if it could even be called that—was sloppy and unhurried, its full intention to leave you feeling shame and vulnerability in front of two of your other lovers. 

Showing them how you easily folded and lost yourself to the sensations. 

“Mm—can see her moving her hips,” Isagi’s lowered, husky voice shot a potent mix of desire and shame through your veins. “Check how wet she is Meguru.” 

Abiding his best friend, Bachira dipped two fingers past the waistband of your sleep shorts. You mewled and tossed your head back when he swiped through your folds, teasingly circling your clit. 

As soon as he gave you that wonderful friction, he retrieved it, leaving you high and dry. 

“Meguru,” you whimpered. Bachira ignored you, holding his fingers up to the other two men; his digits glistening with your juices. 

“I don’t think she can wait anymore,” Reo murmured, and this time, you caught a flash of darkness in his otherwise kind eyes. “Isagi—”

“I’ll go first.” 

Meguru nudged you firmly to face the approaching, dark-haired man. You couldn’t keep your eyes off Isagi’s intense, blue eyes that were pinning you right to the spot like you were about to be burned on a stake. The fire came next when he reached out to caress your cheek, trailing his hand down your neck and grabbing your throat. 

“Tease her clit again,” he ordered, and Bachira playfully said, 

“Yes, captain.” 

Fuck. You were growing lightheaded from the combination of Isagi choking you and Bachira running slow circles on your throbbing clit. It was even filthier when you remembered Reo was watching, most likely getting off to your desperate pinched expressions. 

“Meguru… Yoichi…”

Calling them by their first name seemed to spur on those two men. Meguru eased one finger past your tight ring of muscle, melting through your spongy walls and hooking the tip of this thick index right against your g-spot. He nudged it forward in a fluid motion, like how he would effortlessly send forward a ball across the field, forcing a yelp past your kiss-swollen lips. 

Your vision was purely dominated by Isagi’s increasingly unhinged expression; the sweat bulleting down his forehead, his mouth parted in a silent snarl, those dark, beautiful eyes coaxing you to jump down a well just to feel his touch… 

“Y-Yoichi.” 

As if he understood your deeper need, Isagi nodded feverishly at Bachira. “Remove her shorts… hold her open while I eat her out.” 

Dutifully, Meguru followed his friend's instructions. You watched with wide, unblinking eyes as Yoichi got to his knees, his mouth so close to where you needed him the most.

Bachira slung your shorts down your ankles, revealing the sweet shape of your mound and the even sweeter treasure hidden in between your folds. Like a man hellbent on a mission, Yoichi gently pried your clit from under her hood, revealing the throbbing bud waiting to be licked, sucked or loved on. 

You barely had time to catch your breath before his mouth was on you. 

Every man in this house ate you out differently. Reo was more careful and controlled. Nagi was languid and tended to overstimulate you. Barou loved to have your legs on his shoulders as he dove in between your thighs. 

But, Isagi was different; he ate you out with the determination of a man who had to prove he was the best in every way. 

The feeling of his tongue swiping through your folds, those perfect pink lips sealing around your clit and how he sounded like he was making out with your pussy made you clench down on thin air. 

“Yoichi…” you breathed. 

Bachira went to work on stimulating you, too, tugging your shirt above your head and pinching your nipples again. 

Both boys were so intent on driving you to the edge, that they didn’t realise the group of spectators they were attracting. 

From the corner of your watery eyes, you noticed Rin standing, arms crossed over his broad shoulders and frosty glare—tainted with jealousy—directed towards the man in between your thighs. Kunigami had just gotten out of the shower, so his hair was still damp while Barou had returned from a workout, his muscles swollen and shiny with sweat. Chigiri and Nagi were the only ones probably still asleep, though you had little doubt your stream of moans would wake them up out of curiosity. 

Meguru flicked the tip of his nails on your nipples, the sharp sting sending bites of pleasure right to your core. 

“Megu—” you were interrupted again by another sloppy kiss. 

“Tch. You’re all such fucking horndogs.” Rin’s grumble was white noise behind the blood rushing in your ears. 

“... you’re not complaining…” 

“Shut up…” 

A sharp nip to your flesh inner thigh wrenched you back to the present, and you gasped, making eye contact with Isagi and his raised brow. 

“You’re getting bored, Princess?” 

Without missing a beat, you shook your head. “N-no, ‘Ichi. Mm’sorry.” 

He clicked his tongue, obviously not buying your lie. “Here you are getting your pussy eaten out by me and you’re focusing on the other boys. Just admit that you’re a fucking cockwhore, Y/N.” 

You gaped at his words, and your rage was lost when Bachira dragged you back to the counter, arranging you face down and ass up. 

“M-Meguru—!” 

“Come on, who wants to fuck her first,” he boldly exclaimed, shaking you to the core. “She’s ready for a baby.” 

You burned from the inside out at how cheaply he was treating you; that sensation amplified by the sharpest slap of humiliation across your cheeks, Bachira’s handprint glowing warmly on your skin. He spanked you again, matching his mark on your right cheek to your left one, letting you cry out and clench down on thin air.  

“Me.” A deep, resonate voice which you loved having at your ear while he fucked you on every Monday night. After all—a King always went first.

As one of the bigger guys, Barou’s physique gave him the advantage over the others to call dibs on you first, his undeniably good genetics and strong bone structure a contender for healthy babies. 

You felt Bachira’s warmth melt from your side to be replaced by the feel of Shoei’s toned thighs pressed against your rear. 

He soothed the spanks left on your skin with one large, coarse palm, and hummed deeply. 

“You ready, pretty?” 

Nodding, you turned your head to the side, unable to believe that you were in such a vulnerable position to be fucked by the entire football team. 

You weren’t going to lie—you had imagined yourself in this position before. But, it was always in your wildest fantasies; to be defiled by the football team in your tiny uniform behind the bleachers. If you were being honest, every girl on campus had the same daydream, but you were closer to the unattainable. The entire idea was such a cliche, and yet, here you were, in a room full of hungry, testosterone-fuelled men who eagerly waited to have their turn with you—the pretty cheerleader from their bygone days before the world tried to kill humanity off. 

Barou wasted no time in sinking his thick cock into you, groaning as your body took him inch by inch. He rubbed your hips, leaning forward to gently thumb your nipple. “There you go, baby. Taking me so well.” 

His words were a stark contrast from his actions. Shoei gave a low, guttural groan when he bottomed out, a dirty thrill shooting down your spine at the feel of his entire cock moulding with your walls as seven other men gaze lustfully at you. 

Through the shine of an old kettle on the counter top, you noticed Isagi palming himself through his shorts. Bachira was blatantly jacking himself off, one hand inside his sleep shorts. Kunigami was sitting on the sofa, staring at you slack-jawed and completely hard under his towel. Reo was the more subtle one, furtively glancing around and looking slightly uncomfortable, but still unable to tear his eyes from you. 

Chigiri and Nagi had woken up, and Rin was standing a little ways by the door, distancing himself from the activities taking place.

For a split second, you felt bad for him—Rin was supposed to have you today, but he had to wait for his turn as the other guys fucked you; figuratively and literally blue-balled by his own teammates. It would’ve made you mad on his behalf if you weren’t—

“Ow!” 

A sharp tug on your roots snapped your head back, and your cry bounced off the walls. Barou’s lips were on your neck, his hot breath fanning across your neck. 

“Did I tell you you could be distracted? Pay attention to when your King fucks you.”

From the back, you heard Bachira snicker, but every thought flew out of your head when Barou set a pace which had your toes curling in your house slippers. He clamped one hand around the delicate roots of your hair, while the other guided your hips to meet his halfway.

The sound of balls hitting flesh filled the air, along with your animalistic groans and Barou’s deep ones. You heard a few more muffled groans, and someone cursing, but your thoughts were doused in wet cotton, growing heavier and fuzzier. 

You could barely keep your eyes open, only cognizant of Barou’s cock shaping your walls and the impending ball of heat waiting to unravel right under your navel. Meeting his thrusts cleanly, soft mewls fell from your plush lips like dew, mingling with a bit of drool puddling onto the counter right under your mouth. 

Barou was fucking you stupid and the other men knew it. He couldn’t stop the feral grin splitting his face in half when your hips bucked, a little slutty tick which told every man you were about to cum. 

Without warning, you felt wet warmth fill you to the brim—your first load of the day taken like a champ.

Shoei hadn’t let you cum, and you reeled back from the disappointment with barely any grace; your soft sob was replaced by a moan when another man lined up his cock to your stuffed entrance. 

You smelled his fresh pine cologne before you saw him, and sensed Rin’s impatience the second he gripped your jaw and wrenched your face back for a deep, frenzied kiss. 

“Fucking whore,” he whispered into the heat of your mouth. “Letting the other boys feel you up when it’s my turn with you today. Where’s your shame?” 

Your answer melted as one with a dulcet moan when Rin slid two fingers in between your swollen folds, testing the waters of your arousal. He barely cared when his digits were coated with a combination of Barou’s cum and your juices; he just stuck those soiled, pale and nimble fingers which could’ve rivalled a skilled pianist down your throat. You gagged on them, eyes going blurry and all teary from the flavouring of sin heavy on your tongue. 

“Rin,” you hiccuped, and he hummed. 

“Take me deeper, baby.” 

His command brought a throbbing wave of desperation arresting you from head to toe. You tried to bring his fingers further down your gullet, but gagged when he was almost knuckle-deep. 

“Mhpmh!” Your syrupy moan made every man groan, the sheer desperation in how you attempted to fully swallow Rin’s fingers a commendable feat considering he had absurdly thick fingers to match his height. 

“Good girl,” Rin praised you in a husky voice when he felt your throat bob around his digits. “You’re really such the perfect fuckdoll, huh? Always so ready for us.” 

“Mhmm…” your eyes rolled back into your head, your entire body tensing when you felt his cock slowly breach past your tight ring of muscle. 

“Fucking take this dick, baby, I know you can,” the youngest striker urged, his words beyond filthy compared to the other men. Rin was one of the only few people in this house who could talk you through the immense pleasure, and you loved him all the more for it. 

His obscene mouth would never fail to leave you reeling from the difference in his demeanour; sour and quiet when he wasn’t fucking you, to brash and downright filthy when he was egging you towards an orgasm. 

You loved Rin and his duality; lived to watch it come to life.

You wanted to swallow him down and eat him up whole to satiate the deep well of lust inside of you no matter the price. 

“Rin…” you gurgled past his fingers. “Mhmmmore.” 

“More?” he interpreted your gurgles with the ghost of a chuckle. You quite liked it when Rin laughed even if it was a soft exhale; it made you feel lighter to hear his happiness. He hummed and plunged his fingers back down your throat, playing with the soft palate of your tongue, while his cock inched deeper and deeper into your sacred heat.

The second he bottomed out, his forehead thumped onto your shoulder, a long drawn out groan of relief radiating warmth right into your throbbing heart. Rin’s reactions were adorable as they were pussy stirring, his duality further exacerbated by those spit-slicked fingers retracting from your mouth and moving down to your puffy clit.

He gently rubbed circles into them, catching you whenever you bucked into his embrace. His lips were on your neck, his hot breath expelling heated groans onto the sensitive skin. Every single shaky circle on your sensitive nub was pulling you closer and closer into a white hole of pleasure.

Your moans were reaching fever pitch, and the entire house was doused with the arousal of seven men who couldn’t wait to fuck you.

The boys whispered something over your stream of mewls and your feet were off the ground, your limp body in Rin’s arms. Without a second to spare, he brought you to the main bedroom where the largest bed could fit at least three men. 

There, he laid you down, your head dangling off the edge so your mouth was hanging wide open for the next man to defile. 

Rin eased himself in between your spread thighs, placing a kiss onto your sternum almost reverently and leaving more pressees on your jaw and cheeks. You felt someone else rustle up towards the other side of the bed, and your eyes met Kunigami’s darkened ones. His towel was shed off, a heap on the floor, and his long, girthy cock throbbed in anticipation over your face. 

“Open up for me, pretty girl,” Rensuke murmured, grazing your cheek and then hooking a thumb on your bottom lip to spread you wider. You whined, overstimulated on both ends when you felt both men sink into you at the same time. Rin bottomed out the second Rensuke hit the back of your throat, making you jerk and gag. 

The both of them were big—far too big for your smaller body. It was a struggle to take them both and you felt your body reacting to the impossible feat.

“Ssh, ssh,” Rin whispered into your hair. “Relax, baby. You can take us, I know you can.”

With watery eyes, all you could do was mewl, hips bucking pathetically. Rin’s long girth was directly hitting your g-spot with every thrust, and Rensuke was splitting your throat in half. You felt like you could drown in their musk and the thick scent of sex in the air. 

Something bitter hit the back of your throat, and you gagged, about to spit Rensuke out when he clamped one hand on your throat, telling you to keep him there if you wanted to know what was good for you. 

“Hold me, sweetheart. Hold it,” the large football player murmured. You were sure your entire system was going haywire—your pussy and mind in war to come out at the top of your frazzled emotions. 

One of your hands was buried in Rin’s hair, and another was perched on Kunigami’s thigh, trying to ease him down your battered throat. 

Without warning, the other man withdrew his thick length from your mouth, splatters of drool dripping down your chin and neck; defiling you even more. 

“Fucking hurry it up, Rin,” Kunigami growled, throwing the other striker a murderous look which juxtaposed his usually kind expression jarringly. “I need to cum in her.” 

Rin grunted, returning the other striker’s glare with a hostile one of his own. “Shut the fuck up—let me have this with her.” Kunigami stroked himself, trying to keep himself hard as Rin started to jackhammer into your willing cunt.

Your screams of pleasure echoed around the room, contrasting with the other men’s deep growls and groans. It sounded like a smorgasbord of erotic sounds, complemented by the slap of Rin’s balls on your ass. 

The youngest man was close on the verge of his orgasm, his face pinched and drawn. You thought he would’ve taken this chance to cum and ignore your pleasure, like Barou did, but you were sorely wrong when it came to Rin. He pressed a thumb to your swollen clit, rubbing it soft and sweet, increasing the pressure when you started to buck and whine into his embrace. 

You smelled the sting of his sweat, felt it drip into your open mouth, tainting it with the taste of Kunigami’s precum and his own excitement. 

“I’m close,” you sobbed out, arms like vines around his shoulders, nails stabbing into his back. “G’na cum, Rin-Rin—fuck, don’t stop, please don’t stop.”

He shook his head, a feral look of pure determined arousal lighting those beautiful features. “Cum for me, baby. Make a mess—show the other guys how much you love my cock.” 

Your back arched, and your mouth fell open in a silent scream. Your thighs tensed around his waist, almost clamping the air out of his lungs from how hard you were clenching around him. The minute ticks, the red lines you left down his back, and your eyes rolling back into your skull arrived at a blinding crescendo.

“Oh! Ugh, Rin—!” 

Your first orgasm hit you like a brick wall, steamrolling every thought from your blank mind. Rin’s face fell into the crook of your neck, and his stuttering hips brought forth a fountain of warmth flowing freely into your womb. 

You were coasting, high on hormones and pleasure, when he disappeared from your embrace, only to be replaced by another body. Kunigami’s lips on your skin were like warm fluttering butterfly wings, slowly bringing you back to the ground.

“I’m here next, okay, baby?” His tender tone didn’t prepare you for how his cock stretched you out. 

“Too big,” you muttered, losing every shred of your composure and shame to hiccup those dirty words. “You’re t-too big.”

“Yeah?” He kissed your tears away. “Aren’t you glad I can stretch you out? Give your sweet body some practice when you have to push out our babies?” 

His words ignited a flame right in your lower belly—making you cry out when Rensuke started to slip inside your already overflowing hole. Gushes of white streaked your thighs, the other men’s releases staining the bed underneath you. 

As you got used to his slightly wider girth, you didn’t expect Kunigami to roll you on your hands and knees. His cock slid back into your waiting heat, the angle making him feel bigger, and stretching you out even more. 

But, it also placed you face to face with the other guys who were eyeing you hungrily—none more so than Reo. 

One thick hand wound the hair around the nape of your neck to snap your head up, keeping you firmly in place to watch the lust dancing in their eyes.

“You really should see how fucking sexy you look, baby,” Chigiri hummed, those bright eyes latched onto the spot where you and Kunigami were connected. “We could eat you whole—you fucking little slut.”

“So pretty,” Reo cooed, and Nagi nodded in agreement. 

The lilac-haired man got bold enough to stride up to you, perching himself on the edge of the bed where your swinging tits were mesmerising him. 

“Raise her up a little bit, Ren.” 

Kunigami obeyed Reo’s orders, settling on his haunches and bringing you up with one arm securely snug around your neck. Your tinier hands fluttered to the thick trunk of his forearm as if trying to pry him off, the breath in your lungs knocked out by Rensuke’s headlock. 

But, whatever bit of oxygen you managed to inhale from Kunigami’s loosening hold was taken away as Reo leaned forward to kiss and suck your tits. He massaged the neglected one with one hand, his lips busy toying with your right nipple. You watched with bated breath as his tongue caressed the hardening flesh, the firm suction of his lips on the vulnerable flesh sending pangs of pleasure straight to your core.

You cried out, throwing your head back to bump Rensuke’s chin. He grunted, and shifted his arm a bit so he could grasp your neck instead, holding you steady as his cock wrecked you and Reo’s mouth on your tits continued driving you insane.

“She’s drooling,” Nagi drawled, catching their attention. 

Every eye zeroed in on your blissed-out face, your mouth parting and a little bit of spit dripping past your chin. Kunigami chuckled, breathless and almost feral when he leaned forward to sloppily make out with you. 

The sound of wet lips smacking on each other and a big cock stirring you closer to another orgasm made every man in the room throb—even those who had already come. Every footballer was thinking of the numerous ways he could bend you over and fuck you hard until you squirted all over them; each of their mind’s eye tainted with your sweet moans and even sweeter release.

You gave a short scream, your orgasm catching everyone off guard when you almost folded forward if it wasn’t for Reo catching you. Your body was shuddering like someone had tasered you—a pure scream of pleasure rebounding across the thin walls.

Reo held you as you sobbed, your release triggering Kunigami’s own orgasm. More warmth filled you up and you had lost track of how many men had already came in you; your brain a complete mush with no solid thoughts in it.

Like clockwork, another cock filled you—this time it was Reo’s again—and your mouth was stuffed with someone else's length. You were dragged into a cowgirl position by Reo who let Nagi mount you from the back, both of their lengths taking turns pistoning into your stretched out heat.

“Disgusting,” someone muttered in disdain over the sounds of two men concurrently fucking one woman. Neither of you cared, and you were pulled into a sloppy makeout session with Nagi as Reo continued sucking and licking your already reddened nipples.

Every part of your orifice was swollen, but you still took Chigiri without complaint when it was his turn. You were already like jelly at this point, your entire body sagging on the bed and going numb from the neverending pleasure.

Thankfully, he was quicker, cumming into you within minutes, and kissing you on the forehead afterwards. Your hole was stuffed to the brim with white hot cum, and you thought you couldn’t take anymore until you felt Bachira sliding behind you, hitching your thighs up.

“Hey, Princess,” the golden-eyed menace cooed. “Did you think we would forget about you?” 

You felt the bed dip, and Isagi’s face swam in your vision. He came closer to give you a kiss, and his lips felt like a soothing balm on a hot day. 

“Yoichi,” you whispered, eyes heavy and body already close to shutting down from exhaustion. “M’so tired.”

“I know, pretty girl, I know,” the dark-haired man whispered. “But, Meguru and I haven’t had our turn with you yet. It would be unfair if we didn't, right?” He gently stroked your cheek, voice saturated with fake sympathy. “You wouldn’t want us to not fuck you after you’ve already taken everyone’s cock, right? You’re not that cruel to deny us, are you, baby?”

“Fucking twisted weirdo,” you heard another person quip. But, you were too far gone to stop the collision of his lips on yours, that skilled mouth drinking away all of your complaints.

As he distracted you, Bachira slipped his thick and veiny cock right into your waiting cunt, his groan low and erotic against your shoulder. 

“How’re you still so wet and tight after so many rounds?” He nipped your shoulder in frustration, setting a pace that rutted your body back and forth on the soft sheets. “You’re a fucking nympho, baby—so needy for our cocks.”

“Shut up,” you groaned in between Yoichi’s hot mouth pressing onto yours. You tried to squirm away to get back some of your lost breath, but Isagi refused to let you part from his lips. He chased after you, mouth sealing over yours again and again as you tried to twist your head this way and that. 

Strings of spittle clung to both of your chins, and that sick part inside of you which wanted more pushed the voice of common sense in your head out of the way—making you fall head over heels for Yoichi’s mouth on yours. You kissed him back with as much hunger and zeal as your tired body could muster, pushing your boundaries right to the very edge. 

Isagi’s ego fed heartily on your submission, greedily taking everything you gave him.

By the end of this sloppy makeout session, your lips were tingling, and Bachira had already come inside of you—getting off to the sight of his best friend and the girl they were sharing stuck in an intimate lip lockdown.

The last man to take you was drawing it out. He took your face in his hands, nudging you free from Bachira’s grasp and rolling you into his arms.

“Out,” Isagi commanded, in a tone that broke no argument. “Leave me and Y/N alone.”

The rest of the guys began to grumble, but one sharp glare from the terrifying striker was enough to quiet everyone down. Indisputably, Yoichi ran the show, and his ego was bigger than any of theirs combined—the lesser knew when to give way to someone who could devour them without regrets.

Everyone turned to leave, and the last one was Rin who hovered by the doorway, unwilling to abandon you to Yoichi’s devices. The other dark-haired man shot his nemesis a frigid stare that could’ve frozen over Hell’s fires.

“Out, Itoshi.” 

The younger man countered his superior’s glare with a mutinous one of his own. 

“Who’s to say you won’t hurt her?” Rin’s nostrils flared, flickering his gaze to your closed eyes and limp body. “We can’t trust you with her.”

Isagi snorted. “If you want to watch, be my guest. I’ll fuck her so good she’ll forget about you assholes.”

The competition was on, and you were the final prize for these men to win. But, it wasn’t just your body they wanted—each of them fought to secure your womb so it would grow their fruits and give them the family they dreamed of. 

You were their greatest treasure, and they would go to the ends of the earth to make sure you were safe—even watching the other men to make sure none of them would hurt you. 

Isagi was a packaged dynamite waiting to blow; he was too unpredictable and Rin would hate himself if he pushed you too far or injured you in any shape or form. He planted himself against the wall, arms folded across his chest while those searing teal eyes watched you gasp and preen for Isagi’s attention. 

The dark-haired man was playing with your clit, using the dirtiest tactic to rile you up so you would explode in pleasure for him. His mouth was toying with your swollen nipples, and Rin winced when he bit on the tender nub, earning your shriek. It didn’t take a genius to see you were hanging on the tether of your sanity, and with your body already keyed up to the hundreds, your next orgasm was sure to leave you delirious.

Your small hands wound up in his hair, holding him close despite the excruciating pleasure. If Yoichi was the current wrecking you apart, he was also the life buoy you clung on to as your body coasted on the unending pleasure.

“I don’t even need to make you wet, baby,” he breathed right into the shell of your ear, gripping your hips hard. “You’re already so stretched out for me.”

Your breathing caught, a hitched moan echoing around the room when he sank deep into your heat with little to no prep. Isagi kissed you on your lax mouth, and tasted your tears right on his tongue.

“You okay, baby?” He forced your face to his, and your eyes fluttered open. All you could give was a tired nod, and he grinned down at you. “Okay. Are you ready?” 

You nodded again, and that was when another person caught your attention. “Rin?” 

“M’here,” the other dark-haired striker murmured, his eyes softening with fondness when you smiled at him. “I’ll make sure you get your rest afterwards.”

You hummed, and the idea of knocking off to sleep sounded so good, your eyes had already slipped close. 

“Hey—focus on me, sweetheart.”

Isagi’s hand around your neck squeezed down, cutting off your air supply. You gasped and sputtered, eyes rolling wide open. His grin was feral, touched with a hint of insanity. “Good girl. Now, watch me fuck you, sweetheart.”

He pushed your back onto the pillows, and your eyes instantly went to where you both were connected. Isagi’s pretty cock was smeared with your juices and the other men’s cum, the sight alone so filthy it made your cheeks flush.

“‘Ichi,” you hiccuped, going dumb on every stroke of his heavy cock against your velvet walls. “I-I’m close.” 

Your pussy fluttered around his length, the overstimulation touching you like a livewire. He rolled his hips into yours, the sloppy sounds of your pussy getting him higher than any risky goal. There was a reason he went last, and it was because he wanted to savour the sounds you were making; the way your pretty eyes went all glassy and hazy just for him. 

Isagi loved you so fucking much, he swore he couldn’t breathe when you started to chant his name.

“‘Ichi, ‘Ichi,” you gasped out, twisting in his grip, your back arching. “K-Kiss me, ‘Ichi.” 

He obliged you, ignoring the jealous presence waiting right in the wings, waiting for him to fuck up. But, Isagi was gentle with you. He tenderly planted hot, open-mouthed kisses onto your parted lips, drinking in your sweet whines and mewls of desperation. Isagi himself wasn’t in control of his body; that was the effect you had on him.

You drove him crazy with your supple love and beautiful smiles. Everytime you looked at him, it felt like he had been shot right in the chest. Yoichi was so, so crazy for you, and luckily for him, your feelings were the same.

He let Rin get an eyeful of you licking his lower lip, your treacherous side coming to light when you blatantly showed off your preference for the unassuming striker. The other man looked like he was swallowing shards of concrete, his expression twisted in disgust. But, Isagi had already given him an out and Rin didn’t want to take it—he was stuck with the consequences of his actions. 

“Yoichi,” you sighed out his name, all stickily sweet in your high-pitched moan. “I love you, ‘Ichi.” 

“Yeah?” Isagi grunted, your little confession going straight to his burgeoning ego. “Say it louder, baby. Tell the whole world what you feel for me.”

“I love you,” your gasp of pleasure when he changed the angle of his driving hips fed the monster inside of him. “I love you!” 

“Fuck,” Isagi bit down on your neck, leaving behind a mark for the other men to see. Rin’s own marks were on your shoulders and breasts, but Isagi had gone one step further to make his impression on the tender skin between your neck and jaw—right above your pulse point. It was so every beat of your heart echoed with his imprint and every time any of the boys looked at you, they were reminded of who you loved the most.

 “‘Ichi,” you gasped out, and your stuttering hips told Isagi you were already close. Your thighs tensed around him, and he fueled your unravelling further by rubbing on your clit with his rough thumb, the action making you jerk and gasp like you had been electrocuted.

“Yoichi… ‘Ichi… Yoichi!” you cried out his name as your body gave one final push—your release slamming into you with the force of a thousand brick walls, dragging you straight into darkness.

You thought you might’ve died in this instance. Your entire body felt too heavy, and you could physically hear every beat of your heart.

Someone was holding you tightly to his chest, his lips peppering gentle kisses on your face. You pried your eyes open after what felt like two hours trying to recollect your bearings, only to find a pair of teal eyes gazing down at you in worry.

“Baby?” Rin’s voice was soft and unintrusive. He let you get used to the bright light of a warm afternoon—watching you stretch yourself and ease your muscles.

“What time is it?” you asked in a thick voice. Staring down your body, someone had cleaned you up and dressed you in Kunigami’s oversize t-shirt and Rin’s boxers. You felt refreshed and well-taken care of, your entire heart swelling eight times its size to fit your love for every man in there.

Rin leaned forward and you caught his face with your shaky palms, caressing those defined cheekbones. 

“You slept for almost an hour. Bachira thought you had died.” 

You stifled a giggle, tracing your thumbs over the shape of his mouth. Rin let you pull him in for a kiss, and like the worrywart he was, he didn’t deepen it, not wanting to give into the insatiable lust humming in his veins.

If you thought one horny, touch-starved man was a handful, you hadn’t expected the other seven to come through the door and pile up on the bed, each of them clamouring to cuddle you.

You giggled when Nagi tripped over Reo to snuggle up on your left side, only to be stopped by Bachira who literally yanked the taller man out of the way to steal his place. In the end, you took turns cuddling with each man, their deep sigh of relief that things had turned out great and not as weird as they thought, fed right into your relaxed soul. 

As sunlight streamed in through the blinds, the outside world may be in an upheaval, but within these four walls, you were as safe as you could be in your favourite football team’s arms.

©️lalunanymph, 2023

[zhelin-thames]

Bruce has another kid........but this one is not adopted

It started with a mission. Bruce had caught wind of strange paranormal disturbances in a small town called Amity Park. Reports of “ghost sightings” and a local teen hero known as “Danny Phantom” had reached the Batcomputer. Most dismissed it as urban legends or a publicity stunt, but Bruce wasn’t one to ignore a potential threat—especially when these sightings coincided with spikes in dimensional energy readings.

Taking Tim and Damian along, Bruce decided to investigate.

The Bat-plane landed under cover of night just outside Amity Park. The small, seemingly ordinary town was eerily quiet. The only sounds were the hum of streetlights and the occasional echo of a distant, unnatural wail.

“This place is giving me... weird vibes,” Tim muttered, adjusting his tech-enhanced goggles.

“Focus, Drake,” Damian snapped. “We are not here for your feelings.”

Tim rolled his eyes but stayed silent as they followed Bruce toward the FentonWorks lab, the epicenter of the disturbances according to their data.

As they approached the lab, the trio suddenly heard a commotion. A glowing, green figure phased through a wall, yelling back at someone inside.

“I told you, Skulker, I’m not in the mood for another ‘hunt’ today!” Danny Phantom shouted, blasting the air with an ectoplasmic beam that sent a mechanical ghost retreating through the night sky.

The Bat-family froze.

“That’s him,” Bruce said quietly, narrowing his eyes. “Danny Phantom.”

Tim activated his scanner. “Readings are off the charts. His energy signatures are unlike anything I’ve seen. Definitely not human... or entirely human.”

Danny turned mid-air, his glowing green eyes locking onto the trio of vigilantes below. His gaze lingered on Damian for a fraction of a second before he floated down, his posture wary but non-threatening.

“And you guys are...?” Danny asked, crossing his arms.

“Batman,” Bruce said, stepping forward. “We’re here to investigate the unusual phenomena in this town. That includes you.”

“Great. Another set of people thinking I’m some kind of freak,” Danny muttered under his breath before straightening up. “Look, I don’t know what you’ve heard, but I’m just trying to keep the ghost attacks in check. So unless you’re here to help, maybe stay out of my way?”

As the conversation continued, Bruce noticed something odd about Danny. There was something familiar in his facial structure, his stance, even his voice. It was faint, but undeniable.

Later, under the guise of investigating the Fenton lab, Bruce covertly collected a sample of Danny’s DNA—left behind on a napkin when Danny had grabbed a snack.

Back at the Batcave, the results left him stunned.

Bruce returned to Amity Park and requested to speak with Danny privately. Intrigued—and maybe a little suspicious—Danny agreed, letting Bruce lead him to the Bat-plane.

When they arrived at Wayne Manor, Alfred greeted them with his usual calm demeanor. “Master Bruce, your guest?”

Danny raised an eyebrow. “Fancy place. What is this, a billionaire’s bat-cave?”

Bruce didn’t respond, leading Danny to the Batcave below.

Once there, Bruce revealed the DNA results.

“Daniel,” he began, his tone as measured as ever, “you’re my son.”

Danny blinked. Then blinked again. “I’m sorry, what?”

Bruce explained how Talia had kept Damian a secret and revealed that she’d also been pregnant with twins. After Damian’s birth, Talia claimed Danny had been stillborn. In truth, the League of Assassins had stolen him for an experiment, intending to use him as a vessel for Ra’s al Ghul’s essence. When the experiment failed, they abandoned Danny, leaving him to be found by Jack and Maddie Fenton.

“I don’t even know where to start with that,” Danny said, pacing. “You’re telling me my entire life is some kind of League of Assassins soap opera?!”

Bruce didn’t respond, giving Danny space to process.

After a long silence, Danny turned to him. “Does Damian know?”

Bruce decided to bring Danny to the Manor to meet the rest of the family. The reactions were varied—Tim was skeptical, Jason was amused, and Alfred was quietly delighted to have another addition to the family.

But Damian’s reaction was the most intense.

[charafansmile]

Asriel could easily be like the god of familial love, of hopes and dreams, partnerships (friendships, companionship, puppy love if you must) and children/youth and then when he's flowey he could be the god of betrayal and spite, ala nemesis and eris. Still rooted in the ideas of love but twisted into what happens when love turns sour. Still a god of youth but also a god of lost time. Actually making him a minor god of time would also really work to tie into his character. Him being Pandora and the box at the same time would be interesting.

Transcript: ooh are we talking about reapertale? okay time to bring flowey into it because i was actually thinking about him recently—

first off, unrelated tangent, i think they did chara pretty decently? like, they used to be kind, but they were betrayed by monsterkind, etc etc. i like that, it honestly brings up what i think is a tragically unexplored part of their character. they hate monsterkind in some way for being so nice, and i think that’s why we can drive them to support genocide so quickly. i do think they shouldn’t have been evil right off the bat, of course, but hey! they’re a mythological figure. that stuff happens a lot in mythology, and more importantly it works in tangent to undertale.

flowey, though. god. amnesia does not suit him. they stripped him of character and expected him to still be flowey. it’s illogical. really reflects the early fandom’s perception of flowey and asriel as entirely different people. like being a flower makes you want to kill people or something. smh.

sorry i turned the topic to flowey but like. does he have to be the embodiment of despair. him being obsessed with chara is in-character i guess but he does it in such an out-of-character way. honestly that’s a big problem with every au! they make him a sweet little guy without actually addressing the roots of his canon problems. i mean, that or they make him the living embodiment of evil. they gave him the chara treatment, seriously.

he has so many layers though. it’s hard to fit him into one category. personally i’d make him some kind of pandora’s box thing. like an embodiment of the world’s pestilences where he used to be a closed box. helps highlight that he didn’t change, the box was always there, dying just opened it.

that might not make any sense. but man i’m tired of people making flowey chara’s lapdog. when in genocide he clearly sees himself as a partner in crime, at least until the end. (and then he defies them and ruins the whole killing humanity thing. so.) and don’t even get me started on pacifist. he tries to kill you repeatedly because he thinks you’re chara.

flowey is driven by (platonic!!) love. but it’s not the soft love you see on greeting cards or tv. it’s angry love. aggressive love. he’d do anything for the person he loves. even kill them.

honestly, maybe flowey would work better as a god of love. (yes i headcanon him as aroace but still.) “asriel” is soft, caring love. hugs and kisses and warm blankets and all that. “flowey” is the kind of love that slaps you in the face to get you up in the morning. he’s possessive, angry, passionate.

WHOO this got long.

[lcverwrites]

the lovers ― aegon targaryen

THE LOVERS ― AEGON TARGARYEN ... (part one) (2.3k)

summary ... aegon had never known the tender touch of love, from the cradle as a babe, he was cursed to be unlovable. his mother held no love for him, only the safety he provided her. his father never spared him a glance, to sickness struck to see past his golden daughter. his siblings were indifferent to him, never really having the want to dig past his drunkard front. but then came her... aegon never understood why she loved him, what she saw in him that others could not, what he could not see in himself. but thank the gods above, there was nothing he wouldn't do to keep her devotion, because the unlovable had finally found someone who loved him; and who he loved in turn. pairing ... aegon ii targaryen x tyrell!reader (wife reader) warnings ... self loathing, talks of being unlovable, strained family dynamics, targcest (mentioned, but not seen), hurt/comfort, angst, trying to heal from unhealthy relationships, mentions of drinking, supportive wife mode note ... I want this fictional man a healthy amount, as you can clearly see. I might make some more things for this couple in the future, cause they've been on my mind for a loooong time. I just want to love this man for a second, after the shit storm they put him through this season. Let me know if you want more of aegon x tryell!reader, perhaps some smut between these two lovers 😏🫶🏻

next part >>

⠀⠀⠀Voices spoke muffled words around Aegon, drowning him in their monotonous sounds, unimportant and distant from his thoughts. Aegon knew he should have been listening to his merriment of council members, they were talking about the needs of the realm, the wants of the smallfolk, the unwarranted needs of the already wealthy lords and ladies in his court, the impending doom awaiting them across the sees, with his sister plotting to take the crown from his very head.

The crown she was once promised, The Realms Delight was worlds away now, and the crown snuggly sat upon Aegon's head, the doing of the Mother and Grandsire, the controlling hands that guided Aegon under the guise of their affection and want to see him succeed, to bring the promised peace Viserys once spoke about.

But Aegon knew better now.

His mother held no love for her eldest son. She held him at arms length, with contempt, her lips pursed as if she couldn't ever fathom smiling at her own son. With a faux guiding hand, never reaching for a tender touch, only a harsh slap to awaken him from thoughts of straying from the path laid out for him. Alicent Hightower liked to believe she loved her children to the best of her ability, but Aegon knew better, knew that her love came with conditions, and Aegon's was to keep the safety of her family, even if he was killed in the process.

His Grandsire was a bitter old man, who reached above his station as hand of the king, all but ready to snatch the crown from Aegon himself. He was the driving force for Aegon's ascension, seeing the malleable drunk as a way to reach his ultimate prize, to be King through Aegon. There wasn't a bone in Otto Hightower that cared for Aegon past the power he could bring him.

Aegon could hear his mothers docile voice, sweeter than those of the men whom sat around her. Her words blurred into a flurry of movement, her lips parts around the words he wasn't taking in.

He watched his mother. Seeing his lips in her mirror image, full and pink, a slight downtick in the right corner, a frown always threatening to take her tender disposition by the throat. He could see the shape of her eyes, wide like a doe, but all innocence was washed away by a bland rage that barely simmered beneath their dark pools of amber liquid, subdued and boring. She could see her picking at the skin of her nailbeds, a bad habit she never outgrew in her youth, a habit she passed onto Aegon, if his red and raw nails were a certain sign.

He could see so much of himself in Alicent, in his own mother, a mirror into Aegon's soul. But all she could see in Aegon was his father, and she despised him for it.

His gaze traversed from his mother, to the stoic statue was his brother. Foreboding and concealed all at the same time, Aemond was a fearsome foe.

Aemond spoke little, hums of approval passed his sealed lips, displeased puffs of air fled from his nose. When words did leave his lips, they were precise, vicious and cold in the manner, strait to the point, never one to flounder and flaunt with unnecessary grandeur. He spoke as if he were a worldlier man, knew the bitterments was war and what was required to secure their victory, through fire and blood, through destruction and death. Aegon didn't know if it meant their own destruction or their foes, Aemond's want for power knew now bounds.

It's what desired him to his Grandsire.

He saw a likeness in Aemond that he didn't see in Aegon, and he held hatred and resentment for his oldest grandson.

Aemond paid no mind to Aegon, as if he was not there, the chare beneath him empty, no figurehead to be seen. He spoke to the counsel with the convection of a King, hand perched on the hilt of his sword, as if ready to strike at any given moment, lest one of the lords spoke against him, as if it were treason.

As young boys, Aegon and Aemond were like most boys he supposed. They poked and prodded at one another, until one of them bled, pleading for the other for mercy, running and crying to their mother. Often it was Aegon tormenting Aemond for his lack of dragon, for being the boring little know it all, smacking him against in the training yard in the name of bettering his skills, but Aegon wanted his little brother to feel even just a moment of the bitter resentment he felt feasting in his insides, sloshing around with the sweetened wine he drank himself into a stupor with.

He wanted his brother to feel small, unwanted, unloved, just as he felt. But no matter what Aegon did, his brother would always have their mother behind him, caressing his with the tender touch he craved. The lick his wounds with her tender voice, chaste kisses to the crown to his head, all the while berating Aegon in the same breath.

Aegon knew he shouldn't have treated Aemond so, they were both circumstance of their family, they were the only people who could truly understand each other, but resentment flooded Aegon's bones, strengthening his hatred for everyone whom shared his blood, and couldn't taste the bitter bite of his flesh.

Aemond resented Aegon for what he was given, just because he had the audacity to be born first. He was given the crown of their founding family, he was given the undeserving respect of the smallfolk, he was given the time and energy the the King's counsel. He was given the best tutors and training teachers, but he never respected what has trust upon him, not in the way Aemond would have welcomed him. Now his brothers days were spent on the throne he desired so, drunk in his cups and stupidly stuttering around like the idiot Aemond has always known Aegon to be.

Aegon leaned back in his uncomfortable chair, hand reaching out to play with the ball before him, the marble feeling cool beneath his heated palms. He felt as of he were just melting into the wood beneath him, and no one seemed to notice.

Except...

A hand reached for his arm, a delicate little thing, decorated with gentle rings that glimmered in the afternoon light, shimmering shades of glittering gold, azure blue and brilliant emerald. The smooth skin of a palm caressed his forearm, thumb digging into the malleable skin beneath his wrist, as if she knew he was slowly floating away, grounding him to this moment, to her touch.

Oh but she....

She was a marvellous thing. Aegon hadn't seen anything so precious in his life, so delicate, so wonderfully beautiful. There weren't enough words in the world for Aegon to describe her, nothing could ever truly do her justice, and he had tried, many a times, much to her amusement.

The Lady Tyrell had been a gift Aegon knew he wasn't deserving of, it was as if the gods were cursing him to gaze upon the mirror of the Maiden, but never being good enough, strong enough, smart enough to be worthy of even a glimpse in his direction. Aegon would only think himself lucky enough to dream about her gentle touch, to be the lucky man whom would receive her affection, to have her smile at him in a manner he'd never seen a maiden smile before.

Her smile started small, only an upward pulling in the right corner of her lips, inch by inch, her pretty pink lips would stretch in the most delicious curve, revealing the pearls of her teeth, little creased would dip in the skin of her cheeks as she would freely smile, a crinkle would form in her nose, her eyes would glitter with a golden looking happiness, as if you were the centre of her world in that very moment, the very reason she was smiling, like you were the only thing that could make her happy.

Aegon wished he could bottle the feeling her smile encapsulated, pure and true happiness unlike anything Aegon has felt before.

How could a persons smile be so contagious?

Despite his reservations, the Lady Tyrell held no contempt for him. She gazed upon him as if she were seeing him for what he was and she was willing to accept him, bitter soul and all.

The Lady Tyrell squeezed his arm, only once, and it was enough to have Aegon retreating from the narrow tunnel he was burrowing himself into. His gazed picked up from the marble to look upon the visage of his wife.

His Wife.

They'd been married when they were ten and three respectively, much to young to be married, but as is the way Aegon supposed. He hadn't even been given the chance to speak with her, before it was announced in the King's Counsel that they were to be married.

But they've come a long way from those scared children they had been all those years ago.

But the one thing that hadn't changed, was the devotion and love she had bestowed upon Aegon. Day in and day out, there wasn't a moment in time where she didn't love him.

"Perhaps the counsel should take a breath" Her melodic voice pierced through his muffled thoughts, like it always did, his every being was tuned into every sound and moment she made.

"Pardon, your grace?" Lord Lannister paused a moment, looking at her with a look of confusion.

"You have been discussing for hours now" She mildly replied, keeping an easy smile on her lips, looking like the pliant woman they demanded she be. "If we were to be attacked by our foes, they would have done so already, surely you all see this"

"Just because it hasn't happened, does not mean it will not happen" Otto Hightower's condescending voice bounced around the room, looking down upon the Lady Tyrell, as if she were a speck of dirt on his boot.

Aegon clenched his fist, loathing that she was rained down upon by Otto's hatred because she was connected to Aegon.

She never seemed to waiver beneath his gaze, nodding demurely at the Hand, as if she were bending to his whims.

"I do not disagree my Lord" She announced. "But perhaps we have spoken on the themes of war for much to long"

"Your Grace, forgive me for speaking so candidly--"

"Then do not"

All eyes turned to Aegon, who for the first time since the counsel had gathered, had found himself voicing the words that had been rattling around in the back of his throat.

"The Queen has excused you" Aegon bluntly replied, leaning further back in his seat, pulling his arm along with him, turning it just so, allowing his palm to slide right along her. Their fingers gliding together like magnets pulling them together, locking them in place.

Aegon relished the feeling of her warm palm beneath his own, smooth skin against his own rough calloused skin, like silk against leather. The cool metal of her rings biting into his warm skin, a zinging shock to his system.

"Aegon, the counsel needs to speak about--" Alicent tried to gage her son back into the conversation, but Aegon was already detached from everything that was her.

"Your King has dismissed you" Aegon interrupted his mother.

Aegon looked to his mother, seeing her lips parted in surprise. She wasn't used to Aegon snapping at her so, he had always been so willing to bow to his mother, wishing for her affection in return.

But he now knew what love without restraints and conditions tasted like, he craved the affections of his wife, whom would willingly allow him to be loved without limits.

"Fuck off" Aegon waved off the counsel.

He didn't even watch as each member grumbled up their breath about something or the other. He didn't notice the shared look of concern on his Mother and Grandsires faces, he didn't see the glare Aemond had wagered his way, icy and void of any brotherly affection. He didn't see any of it, and if he had, he wasn't sure he would care.

Not when she was gazing upon him as she always had.

With love.

"You may have been too crass my love" She smiled as the last of the counsel left the room, the foreboding doors slamming closed behind Otto Hightower himself, sealing himself out of reach of the King.

"They are a bunch of power hungry cunts" Aegon shrugged.

"Be that as it may" She conceded with a soft smile. She pushed herself from her seat, keeping her hand within Aegon's, walking around her corner of the table, until she was standing directly beside the chair Aegon was currently lounging in. "They are here because they support your cause"

Aegon huffed a breath through his nose.

He used their connected hand to haul his wife's body into his lap, she fell willingly into his embrace, wrapping her free arm around his shoulders.

"I do not wish to speak about them anymore" Aegon announced, shifting his wife further into his lap, until the side of her body was pressed firmly against his chest, the warmth of her body radiating through the thick fabric of her dress.

"Then we shall not" She decided, resting her forehead against his temple.

In this moment, Aegon hadn't ever imagine he would feel a love like this. He couldn't have ever pictured someone would love him for what he was, not for what he could give them.

He placed a gentle kiss against her cheek, enticing a soft smile to paint her pink lips.

Whatever god had decided to bring the two lovers together, he was praying that nothing would bring them apart.

[sonolynn]

What the Fates Allow-P

summary | Sixteen years ago, Rhaenyra gave birth to a bastard, a girl in which she sent away. Sixteen years later, that bastard would fall into the hands of none other than Prince Aegon himself.

pairing | Aegon Targaryen x Bastard!Reader

tags | talks of birth, bastards, some sexual content mentioned, drunkenness, blood, mentions of drunkenness and ale, ooc!aegon because...he's complex. not proof read

w.c | 1.5k

note(s) | ITS HEREEEEE!!! This is set around the time of drift mark, so Aegon would be around like sixteen.

___________________________________________

Nine moons ago, Rhaenyra had gotten a speech from her dear uncle Daemon about how the “Dragon” could take what and whomever they wished. And in this case, Rhaenyra chose her uncle Daemon Targaryen. Outraged by the news that Rhaenyra could have possibly slept with someone outside of marriage, Queen Alicent Hightower gave Rhaenyra moon tea; A tea only made by the most skilled Maesters to therefore prevent or abort pregnancies. If brewed correctly, the tea could “take care of the problem”, which is what queen Alicent intended it to do. 

Being complacent, Rhaenyra took the tea and drank it. But, what no one told her about moon tea, was that if brewed incorrectly, it would cause great, severe pains in the stomach and could lead to death-or worse, being pregnant. 

And, Rhaenyra found out three moons later that the tea did in fact, not work. So, for the next seven months, Rhaenyra hid her pregnancy under the guise that “she was gaining weight”. She wore ill fitting clothes to hide her bump, and, as the time came closer for her to deliver, Rhaenyra was sent away under the pretext that she was visiting her uncle, Daemon Targaryen in Dragonstone. 

And now, Rhaenyra sat in the bed, the pain between her legs only growing as she pushed. The servants comforted her from behind her as she labored. If she was to be fully honest the small comforts brought her only more anxiety. The stress from having to keep this a secret, to having to travel to a different town under the guise that she was “visiting” a family member, made this situation so much more consequential. 

The birth was not easy. Rhaenyra felt like the world was shifting underneath her multiple times, and the pains that traveled through her back and towards her hips definitely did not help. She swore to herself multiple times that, feeling as though she would pass out at any moment. But then, the pain stopped, and so did the world as she heard the small cries of her infant.

“A girl, princess.” The servant smiled softly, handing the wrapped bundle to Rhaenyra. 

As Rhaenyra held her babe, she felt an overwhelming sense of joy, fear, and protectiveness wash over her. This tiny, innocent creature came from her, her. The small girl nuzzled close to Rhaenyra, still whimpering. Rhaenyra smiled, holding her babe close whilst staring into her eyes. As she studied her new daughter, Rhaenyra noticed the small mark on the girl's chin. Rhaenyra reached up, and she ran a finger over the mark, her eyes studying it carefully. 

For the next month, Rhaenyra stayed in Dragonstone, taking care of this babe and growing more and more fond of her. As she recovered, however, the time neared in which she would have to give her daughter up. Rhaenyra didn’t know why, but the pain in her chest tightened daily as the day neared. She thought that it would be easier-to give away this babe-but, as she walked through Flea Bottom, dressed as an peasants costume, the realization dawned on her that she truly loved this babe; That parting with her firstborn daughter-even if she was sired by Daemon Targaryen-would be something she would regret for the rest of her life. 

Rhaenyra walked up to the door of the brothel, her heart twisting around itself as she stared blankly at the door. Was this truly the fate she wished upon her daughter? To be forced into a shame filled life, a life in which she grew thinking that nobody would want her? No…No she couldn’t possibly- 

But then the door to the brothel opened, and there stood Madam Sylvie. Rhaenyra knew that there would be no going back now, that she had dug her own daughter's grave and now she must lie down in it. 

“Take care of her. Gentle.” Rhaenyra spoke softly, handing her daughter, her precious girl, to the Madam. The Madam nodded gently, holding the girl close to her. The girl started to cry softly, missing the warmth of her mothers embrace. The madam looked up at Rhaenyra, but Rhaenyra stood strong; As strong as she could. 

“She is precious, do not let men use and hurt her…She doesn't deserve such a fate.” The madam nodded gently at Rhaenyra’s words, listening intently over the infant's cries. 

“Of course, Princess.” Rhaenyra watched her daughter squirm in the strangers arms, and she let out a breathy sigh. 

“Her name is Y/n.” And with that, Rhaenyra turned and she left. At the sound of her mothers retreating steps, the babe started to cry louder. Rhaenyra had the urge to turn back, say forget it and deal with the shame of living at court with a bastard. But her pride got in the way, and while listening to the symphony of her daughter's cries, Rhaenyra left. 

___________________________________________

Sixteen years later. 

“Y/N!” Madame Sylvie yelled out. She looked up from the cup that she was cleaning, searching for Sylvie. Her eyes softened slightly as she found Madam Slyvie approaching her. 

“Yes, Madame?” She spoke softly, gently placing the cup back down. The madam sighed softly as she placed a hand on her head. 

“The prince is over there, drunk of course. Could you bring him a pint, dear?” 

“Of course, Madame.” She was confused for a moment. The prince? Well, which one? It could be Daemon Targaryen, or Aemond, or Aegon, the girl did not know. But, nonetheless she smiled, quickly filling up a pint and quickly walking in the direction of the boy. She leans down, holding out the pint to him. The boy seemed dazed, his shoulder length hair greasy and messy, his cheeks rosy and his eyes elsewhere.  

He turned, staring at her curiously as he gently took the pint. He seemed interested in her, the way her eyes held a certain gleam to them that he did not see in others. 

“...You look..familiar.” The boy says. The phrase makes her pause, her hands gently brushing against his as she slides the pint into his hand. She didn’t recognize the boy, barely ever having seen him amongst the hundreds of men's faces that she saw daily. 

“I do not recall us meeting.” She spoke gently, so as to not accidentally offend the young man. When she went to stand, the boy grabbed her wrist, a drunken smirk caressing his juvenile features. He stared at her with a hunger that she had seen many times before in men; The hunger that the madam never let her satisfy. 

“How much do you charge, girl?” He asked slowly. She stared at him, confused for a moment. She withdrew her hand, much to the boy's dismay. 

“I am not…I do not offer services, my lord.” She speaks softly, as to try and keep his inevitable anger at bay. But, much to her surprise, the boy didn’t seem angered, only more determined.

“A moment of your time then?” Asked the boy, his smirk still evident on his face. She seemed scared, for a moment thinking that he would take advantage of her, but the boy sighed heavily in his drunken state and he sat up a little. “I mean you no harm. I just wish for company.” He spoke softly. There was something almost comforting at his tone of voice, something juvenile and hurt lying beneath. 

“Alright then. Company you shall have.” 

The two sat and talked for genuine hours. Madame Sylivie paid them no mind, happy to have someone distract the drunken prince from her girls. The prince confided int the girl, and the girl in him, and at the end of their talk, he handed her a bag of coins. 

“For your time.” He spoke. When placed in the girls hand she gasped, feeling its weight. She immediately went to hand it back to him. 

“My prince I could never take such a sum-” But the prince refused to hear it. He gently closed her hand over the bag of coins and smiled at her. Albeit a drunken one, she could not say that it was not a charming one.

“You should be paid for your services, girl. They were most enjoyable.” And with that, he left her, flustered and confused. Until the next time he visited. 

For the next few years Y/N sat with this Prince-who she learned was Aegon-in the same corner, at the same time, at the same place. He would not bed her, nor would he force her to do anything she didn’t wish to. He found himself staring at her when she would not be looking, sneaking small touches, and so forth, but he refused to believe that he may like her, romantically. He could not have a lowly barmaid as his wife, even if he wished to (which he swore he didn’t). So, the drunken prince found a friend in this barmaid. And, although he would not say it,  perhaps something a little more than a friend.

___________________________________________

TAGLIST:

@povofjustme @targaryenswhxre @starzzgirl @void21 @rosalietyrell @abecerra611 @hangmanscoming @cherriescream @thelastemzy @ccallistata @boypls @visenyareads @helo1281917 @darceshoney

[wttcsms]

did i ever tell you guys about my delinquent!iwa with a heart of gold x rich girl & oikawa's younger sister!reader?? where tooru and reader are the sheltered children of one of the wealthiest families in the prefecture meanwhile iwaizumi, who means well, can't help but run with "the wrong crowd" — they're not really all that bad. they're just boys. they're his childhood friends, of course he's sticking by them.

anyway, tooru, in typical tooru fashion, decides he wants to join their little group. your older brother has always been charming, so it's no surprise that he manages to endear himself to their little group. now your older brother is running around with the same delinquents your father criticizes at the dinner table. tooru never lets you join them, even if you beg and threaten to snitch (which you'd never do, and maybe that's why he doesn't take your threat seriously)

after a particularly nasty fight and everyone in the group has to scatter to flee from the cops, where does a bruised and battered iwa end up? hopping the gate to enter your parent's property, throwing rocks at your bedroom window. he thinks it's oikawa, but he knows he's made a mistake whenever you step out onto the balcony outside your bedroom. before he can run off, the fight he just got done with has finally taken its toll on his body and he finds himself knocking out onto the grass.

you drag him in. your parents are gone at one of their charity galas and it'll be a late night. you're home alone. you're home alone in your family's mansion, and it took all of your strength to drag this unconscious delinquent inside, and the marble floors are surely gonna get dirty, and—

—you patch him up.

you patch him up, and when he wakes up half an hour later, he's got hello kitty band-aids on and you're not letting him leave 'til he eats the ramen you made him. you're stubborn, just like your annoying older brother, so iwa begrudgingly eats the meal you took obvious care in making for him.

and somehow, he keeps finding himself coming back to you. sometimes under the guise of needing to see tooru, sometimes because you take a stern tone of voice different from your usual gentle cadence when you chastise him for getting roughed up & how if he refuses to take care of himself, at least let you apply some ointment to his cuts.

iwa knows he's in too deep, though, whenever he sees you taking care of a kitty one night.

"is that yours?" he asks, never having seen you with any pets. the kitten is cute, sure, but looks a little rough. skinnier than baby cats should be, that's for damn certain. looks almost like the strays 'round his neighborhood.

"nope. i saw her wandering around, looking all lost and lonely. she stops by occasionally, along with others."

"others?"

you nod, stroking the kitten's fur, smiling serenely as you watch her lap at the saucer of milk you provided. "there's a couple of dogs i pass by on my way to school." that explains why he once saw dog treats spill out of your school blazer pocket.

"you have a thing for taking in strays." he's joking, but his smile fades when you sadly answer him,

"yeah. but they never stay."

iwaizumi knows that in the eyes of your neighbors and the people in your social circle, he's your stray.

is he going to stay?

[mossangelll]

yandere!silco x reader hcs

honestly i’m convinced silco is a FREAK and i need to unleash my thoughts…anyways toxic silco does NOT have a hr department and it shows 👁️👁️

tw: suggestive content, drug use, dubcon - mdni

yandere!silco who hires you to work the bar at the last drop part time

yandere!silco who doesn’t see anything special about you at first - you’re just another person on his payroll

yandere!silco who slowly becomes intrigued by how witty and engaging you are with the customers

yandere!silco who appreciates your loyalty when sevika tells him that enforcers met with you to offer money, lots of it, in exchange for information on the chembaron operations - you declined and spit in their faces

yandere!silco who finds you crying in the back alley one night over the large debt you gathered from trying to help a sick family member

yandere!silco who sees an opening and gives you a full-time position at the bar - little do you know you’re slowly getting caught up in his trap

yandere!silco who can’t bear to be around you without acting on his base desires. he can’t stop thinking about your pretty face and how the uniform hugs your body just right

yandere!silco who gets painfully jealous when he sees you flirting with customers and takes his frustrations out by ordering his henchmen to beat up the people that dared flirt with you

yandere!silco who offers a sympathetic ear and gains your trust

yandere!silco who blurs the line between appropriate employee-boss behaviour by constantly inviting you to his office after-hours in the hope of making you feel special. after all, who else gets his undivided attention like this?

yandere!silco who gets you to inject his eye one evening to fully consolidate your bond to him

yandere!silco who pressures you try shimmer for the first time even though you’re hesitant - “what, you don’t trust your boss, hm? you know i would never dream of hurting you.”

yandere!silco who smiles when you give into his silky voice and caresses your cheek

yandere!silco who starts to call you his “pet” but you shrug it off as just friendly nickname

yandere!silco who gives you more and more shimmer as time passes until you can’t function without it

yandere!silco who can’t help but pleasure himself in his office whilst you work below him, knowing that he was the one to corrupt you

yandere!silco who knows you can’t afford the shimmer and leaves you high and dry

yandere!silco who tuts whenever he sees you at the bar, barely able to do your job, and secretly delights in the shame that crosses your face

yandere!silco who calls you into the office under the guise of discussing your poor work performance

yandere!silco who offers you a deal: you quit your job and become his pet in exchange for all the shimmer you could ask for

yandere!silco who holds a vial in his outstretched hand but snatches it away just before your shaky hands could reach it - “ah ah, naughty pet. i deserve something first, don’t you think?”

yandere!silco who reaches into his drawer and pulls out a wine-red collar with gold studs and tells you to kneel before him

yandere!silco who can’t contain his wolffish grin as you scramble over to kneel by his feet, looking up at him with wide, begging eyes and such a…tempting pout

yandere!silco who takes a swig of the shimmer and grabs you into a bruising kiss, tongue melding with yours as you drink the shimmer straight from him

yandere!silco who digs his fingers into the flesh of your waist when you start to whimper, forcing himself to take it slow

yandere!silco who pulls back to look at the blooming swell of your spit-slick lips and the drugged out look on your face with satisfaction - you will always be his

masterlist

[despressoslatte]

not the zoey you wanted (one)

pairing: zach maclaren x female reader!

summary: you waited all weekend for your boyfriend, Zach, to call or text, anything, to explain why he had just went and ghosted you when you were supposed to go with him on a family ski trip to meet his parents, his sister Avery, and his cousin, Miles.

content warnings: angst; victims of catfishing; miscommunication trope

masterlist

Ten minutes late, not a big deal. 

Fifteen minutes late, but it’s okay, because maybe it took longer than he thought to find a book on Battletoads for Avery. Maybe his bike tires got a flat. You told him it would’ve been faster if he had just taken your car, but he insisted on taking his bike to get in a quick workout. What a jock response, you had laughed at him for it.

Thirty minutes late. Okay, you were starting to worry, picking up your phone every couple of seconds to see if there was any texts, calls, any form of update from him. You type out a quick, ‘Are you on your way?’ and press send.

Nothing. You flipped your phone down on the table, tapping on your thighs as you tried not to think of the worst case scenarios.

Forty five minutes late. You flipped your phone back to face you, a soft, sad smile on your face at Zach’s face on your lockscreen. A frown etched itself into your features when you saw no messages.

You pressed the call button by his name, and it went straight to voicemail. Weird. Was his phone dead? Did he fall asleep and kept his phone off? All the possibilities swirled in your head, wondering, contemplating, worrying. 

ᯓ⟢

Apparently, it was known to all of the above. You had gone by his dorm to see that he was gone, his roommate saying he had already come by with his parents to get his overnight bag.

“Yeah, Y/N, he said he was going on the ski trip with his folks and his girlfriend…” his roommate trailed off, his eyebrows furrowing as he looked down at you.

The confusion between the two of you was ear shattering. You were Zach’s girlfriend, so why the hell are you not with Zach going on this ski trip with him and his folks?

You watched his roommates lips press into an awkward line, sympathy written in his eyes as he pushed his hands into his pockets.

“Sorry,” was all he was able to say.

You just nodded, looking away. “Thanks,” you mumbled, and hurried back to your dorm.

Was this Zach’s sick and twisted way of breaking up with you? You had gotten new snow gear just for this trip, all ready and packed back at your dorm. You had been ready for a while now, nervous and excited about meeting his family, like the two of you had planned. His parents had heard so much about you, according to Zach, and his little sister, Avery, wanted to play Battletoads with you, apparently. Zach’s cousin, Miles, was even joining since he was in town from MIT. 

You tried to think of all the things that could’ve gone wrong that you hadn’t even realized. You and Zach had been seeing each other for almost four months now, having met at the beginning of the semester when he needed help in his English Literature course to keep his grades up since it was soccer season.

Zach MacLaren was your college’s school soccer star, and you worked in the tutoring center that was specifically for college students, the SASS, for Student Athlete Support Services. While the tutor girl x jock trope is one of your favorites, dating back to the Naley days of One Tree Hill, there were no moments of chatter where he was annoying you in the guise of flirting or acting like he was too above it all.

Zach was a total sweetheart and the epitome of a lover boy. With a competitive streak and the type of banter that could only be described best as the kind that made it impossible to stop smiling as you tried to think of witty comebacks, dating Zach has felt as if it were quite literally, better than the movies.

If you two ever fought, it was those types of arguments couples were just bound to get into—stress induced irritation, differing opinions on non-deal breaking topics, learning to navigate the fact that you are two different and individual people who are trying to also learn how to be together as a unit.

That day specifically, you could not pinpoint anything you had done that could have upset Zach. You both got coffee that morning on campus before classes, gone through the checklist of things you needed to make sure you packed before he picked you up after classes and his trip to the bookstore near campus, and went on your merry ways. 

His family lived about two hours away from school. Even though it was only weeks away from finals and then, happily, the three-week winter/holiday break, his family wanted to go to a ski resort since the mountains had already gotten snow, and Zach’s cousin Miles was in town just for the weekend.

ᯓ⟢

You took it pretty hard that weekend, especially the way none of your texts got delivered and your calls kept going straight to voicemail. You debated over and over asking your mutual friends if they could get ahold of Zach for you, scared he had blocked you or something. But you didn’t want the humiliation of finding out you and Zach had broken up through mutual friends. 

You had to hear it from him. 

So, on Monday morning, around the time Zach had originally told you that you guys would be driving back in from the ski lodge since you two had to coordinate if you’d be missing any classes Monday, you parked your car in front of his parents’ house. You had their address from when his parents had mailed you a Thanksgiving family photo card a few weeks ago. Luckily for you, you kept every letter ever sent to you in a box, so you still had the envelope it came in, even if the photo itself was attached to your fridge back on via magnet.

You watched as cars drove past the street, wishing you and Zach looking for Zach’s parents. You never met them, not even through FaceTime, but you had seen photos of them on Zach’s Instagram. Somehow, fate never linked up that you would meet them at his games. You tried to go to all of them, but you still worked at the tutoring center, so sometimes, your tutoring sessions collided with his game schedule. 

Since it was a two hour drive from his hometown, his parents usually watched the livestream of the games, but tried to make a few. It was never the ones you were at. For Thanksgiving, you had flown all the way back home to your own hometown, so another missed opportunity to meet them.

He hadn’t posted anything from the ski trip, you felt too awkward if you went and followed Miles, who was private. You felt embarrassed that you were even checking Miles’ instagram for any glance of your boyfriend, anyways. And maybe even more embarrassed when you checked to see if either of his parents had an Instagram—they don’t—or if Avery, as young as she was, had one. She did, but it was private. Smart girl.

When their car finally pulled into the driveway, you waited until they all started to pile out of the car to get out of yours. But you paused from across the street, blinking rapidly as a girl got out of the middle row with Zach and Miles. 

You knew her. Zoey Miller. Your name was Y/N Zoey L/N, with a bunch of your old high school friends calling you “Zoey” as a habit from when you didn’t want to go by your first name. Since starting college, you’d slowly gotten back into the habit of using your real first name. However, here had been a few times where you’d hear “Zoey” called out in a shared class with her, and turn when they meant her and not you.

Zach even called you “Zoey” a few times, after a FaceTime call he had with your best friend who told him if he didn’t take care of you, she’d come fly in to beat him personally. He laughed off the threat, promising he’d gladly let her, if the situation that would never ever occur on his watch, did somehow occur.

Since when were they even friends? Not that you needed to know all of his friends, but you did somehow know most of them. You didn’t think Zoey Miller was on that list. And then you saw him put his arm around her.

So, you walk up the driveway, calling out Zach’s name softly but loud enough you could be heard, your heart pounding in your ear as you took a nervous breath. Was this it? Were you two really over? You needed to know. You watch as he, his entire family, and Zoey all turn around to look at you. And the next few moments take you for a trip. It was all a bit of a blur, like you weren’t quite sure if you were really experiencing the moment or not.

Someone had asked who you were. You saw Zach look at you like he had never seen you before. Were you really that unimportant?

“I…” you breathe out as you try to gather the words. “I’m Zach’s girlfriend.”

His eyes furrowed at you, mouth slightly ajar. You’ve seen that confused look on his face before, like when you’d ask him discussion questions on a book he hadn’t fully read when he should have during tutoring.

“No, that’s Zach’s girlfriend,” you think it was his mom who said it, though you weren’t looking at anyone but Zach.

It was hard to stomach the way he was looking at you like you were a stranger. You suck in a painful breath when you heard he had a different girlfriend. What was with this guy and girls with Zoey in their name, anyways?

“Oh,” you breathe out, whispering your words. “I see.”

You look to Zoey Miller, seeing the remorse in her eyes. Had she had know Zach never actually broke up with you? Is that why she looked so guilty.

You look at Zach, trying to bite your tongue back. But a bitter, “Thanks for telling me first,” fell from your lips with a scoff. 

And despite the fact you came there to hear it from Zach’s lips personally, you were sure you’d start crying in front of his parents, his sister, his favorite cousin, and his new girlfriend, and that embarrassment felt worse than not getting the answers or closure you needed. Maybe you’d just give him an earful when you’d eventually need to go to his dorm to give him back his shit you had and take your own back.And you turned around without waiting for any other answers, responses, anything. You practically ran back to your car, trying to start it up and get back on the road before you started to cry.

two >

[blueberrypancakesworld]

The treatment of a god

Caracalla x wife!reader

warning : fluff, kissing, hurt/comfort, touching, mention of family problems and illness, drinking alcohol, no use of Y/n

Summary : The emperors of Rome, brothers with two sides, one more political the other more brutal. Both enjoyed the pleasures of disguise and make-up, a make-up which, especially in the case of Caracalla, served more than just to exalt the gods. A face consumed by illness and madness, the emperor can barely cope with himself, only to find love late at night in the arms of his beloved.

info : You wanted more Caracalla and you got more Caracalla, have fun with this sweet work and again thanks for the support:)

masterlist

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Rome had many wonders to offer from the sheer size of the world's city that you could only pass through once you had crossed the gate with Romolus and Remus, a story of origins. Two brothers united by blood and dying in blood had built Rome, the city that could and would take over almost the whole world.

A battle in the Colosseum amused the people and above all amused the two emperors who appeared in the guise of Apollo and a young boy. Geta spoke for the gods and Caracalla looked younger every time he spoke…at least he trie.d to

One invasion, one sea battle and one conquest after another followed in the last years of General Acacius, the leader of the Roman troops.

A victory that was celebrated every time and what would a victory be without a battle in the Colosseum?

Only a few knew what the bloodthirsty man was up to, which is the reason why his cheeks seemed to get rosier and rosier and his make-up a bright white, which is why he seemed to get more and more vicious with every fight in the arena.

His nervous up and down on the chair, the screaming and almost jumping into the fight himself was not just the excitement of the fights.

The fewest of them only affected his wife and brother, who were the closest and most familiar to him. The two looked with a worried look at the blond who was busy with Dundus, the little monkey as so often demanded nuts and grapes from his owner and friend and got them immediately

After another fight yesterday in the Coloseum, they had to pull Caracalla back from the edge of the stage when he had another fit of rage when the gladiator died not by the sword but by an arrow-not the way he wanted.

He had almost fallen down and lost his golden lorber wreath before the imperial family had him back. ,,I'd forgotten just how corroded his countenance was," Geta admitted, looking bitterly from his brother to his wine glass, the red liquid only partially soothing their minds, nodding in agreement before they both took a sip.

They had left the tribune shortly afterwards and as they held Caracalla, his make-up was smudged, his skin covered in scars and splits that the emperor hardly seemed to recognise, too often seeing himself as a handsome man rather than one consumed by disease.

What Geta gained in godliness when he dressed and made up, what she gained in dazzling beauty, Caracalla looked more like a play than an emperor.

,,Make-up can hide a lot, but not my concern. He nearly fell down, such a fit in the Senate…what should we do?’ she asked, feeling helpless and putting down the wine glass with a sigh, as drowning in worry was never a good idea, especially now that the situation was so tense.

Geta's hand laid briefly on her shoulder, a gentle squeeze and a brief smile, but he had no answer, they had always been through every fit and yet there was no relief from such madness.

No one but the gods would be able to stop such a madness, such an illness. giving her brother-in-law a quick thank you look, she said goodbye to Geta who gave her a kiss on the ring before turning to his brother.

A quick wave and a ,,Brother! I'll leave you now, you should rest tomorrow is another day full of endeavours’ Geta said goodbye, they saw Caracalla rise from his throne and hurry over to the two of them.

,,I'll see you again when the sun rises, brother," Caracalla replied to his brother in a brief embrace, he loved him, loved him when everything was in order again, before the taller one withdrew from the throne room to go to his own chamber and leave the couple alone.

But by the look on her husband's face she could see that he had forgotten what tomorrow was, ,,We should go to bed my love, tomorrow new laws will be introduced remember?" she asked quietly as he took her hand.

He stroked her golden rings as he thought, but the brief shake of her head let her know that his mind must have been in chaos again. His memory seemed to be getting more and more corroded, a thing that frightened her more than anything else.

With the screech of Dundus following the couple, the last of them left the throne room to get ready for bed, a little ritual of undressing together that she hoped would awaken his memories.

,,The sun is setting," Caracalla said happily, not only looking out of the window but also pointing to the two-seater where the material was already to be found, nodding in agreement as she gradually slipped out of her jewellery, the soft tinkling seeming to reassure him, his bright eyes not moving from her figure as if attracted.

A grin that was almost like a lecherous snake on his lips, he looked at her as her toga slipped from her body and she put on her sleeping robe naked, black fabric with golden embellishments lying loosely on her body.

,,My wife is as beautiful as the sun" he said and she saw that his gaze had calmed down, he was no longer jittery, no overjoy, he was hers again…he was the Emperor Caracalla her husband again.

Moving to him, she sat down opposite him, his hand sought hers and ran over the soft skin, she saw again how he was thinking, ,,Tomorrow is the Senate law, isn't it?" he asked calmly, seeming to have hope that it was right, a truth she rewarded with a kiss on his forehead.

Praise, a kiss that made him smile, something he returned, savouring a moment of love before she reached for the cloth dipped in water.

He saw how he turned away, his face turned away from her even if he only had a dull feeling of what he had done or none at all, his conscience seemed to plague him, ,,You'll only scare yourself, let me do it myself," he demanded and wanted to take the cloth from her hand, which she held away from him.

It hurt him not to be able to look at himself, not to see her pity-covered gaze and it hurt her that he refused and hid from her like that. As a couple, as husband and wife, they accepted each other as they were and even the madness of illness would not change that.

Lifting her hand carefully, she placed it on his cheek, stroking the already slightly smudged make-up and feeling the lightly scarred skin underneath.

,,No matter how much it may frighten me, I love you my king and no madness can change that," she told him, leaning her forehead against his, the tips of their noses almost touching and soul mirror meeting soul mirror.

They held each other as he took the moment to entangle her in another kiss, hands clinging to her with a certain firmness out of fear that she would ever leave him.

A fear she would never allow, she was too addicted to her beloved, had gotten him through his bouts to ever leave him.

He broke away with a gentle smile, a grateful look in his blue eyes as he held still to allow her to remove the make-up, it didn't hurt physically.

The scars that had long been on him and the other marks he had received didn't hurt, it was his mind that suffered, his actions and his emotions that were all the more painful for others.

Carefully moving the cloth over his lips, the bright red, the make-up stained the cloth and a light normal tone came to the fore as the smallest scars and cracks were visible.

As the cloth continued to slide over his face a quiet abandonment and no amusement seemed to slowly return to his cosy wandering as his hands moved away from hers and slowly slid over her thighs.

It didn't matter, every other scar and disfigurement that appeared was nothing new to her and a sign of his strength, despite the madness he was not dead, despite his difficult birth he was not dead.

Caracalla was here and loved her, that was all that mattered.

Her husband traced the golden ornament every now and then, rejoicing when he had finished one only to begin another, working his way up her body and briefly placing his hands on her breasts.

Something he did sometimes out of lust as well as love and amusement, she was his, ,,A beauty you are with your divine patience and love" he praised her as moments later she took the cloth from him and saw the face she had married, loved and vowed to protect.

Letting him play for a moment longer she savoured the touch not inexperienced, he knew what she needed and what he himself wanted when he traced her form and lingered briefly on her neck.

His gentleness focussed on her inside and out, from her pretty blood as it was called to her divine appearance when he first laid eyes on her.

Instead of a kiss, he leaned against her, his head on her chest, his fingers searching for a pulse on her artery, the steady beat of her heart calming him as she held him, closing her eyes and just feeling his being to confirm that he was with her.

,,Thank you… for your patience with me, for your care… for everything," he murmured and slowly detached himself from her, she saw him playing with his fingers in embarrassment before she rose with him.

,,Always Caracalla, we are a family, no madness or disgust will change that…besides, the Coloseum would lose its most loyal spectator if you weren't here," she said with a grin and saw his cosy smile lift to reveal his gold tooth and he took her hand once more before the couple lay down in bed together.

Surrounded by warm furs and soft pillows, they lay next to each other, Caracalla stroking her fingers over and over again, feeling her heartbeat on her wrist as a song helped him fall asleep, ‘I love you’ coming from him in the darkness.

As he turned to her and moved closer to her, blond curls tousled, words she returned and followed with a goodnight kiss on the tip of his nose before he snuggled against her, holding him while the madness and worry faded into a loving sleep together, because what mattered most between them was their everlasting love,

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

@k-yurieee , @somepallings , @cottoncandiescupcakes , @loganskittycatears , @alwayshiccupandastrid-blog @potatoesenpaii

[sleepingdiaryzzz]

Hear me out

Batsis baking something for them just because shes bored but shes horrible at baking (or she would just sabotage it idk put some peppers on the cake)would they just eat it?

Yandere Batfamily x reader

The kitchen smelled like war. Not the type fought with fists and weapons but the kind fought with flour, sugar, and an oven’s unrelenting heat. You stood in the middle of the chaos, apron smeared with batter and the counter coated in the powdered remnants of your efforts. You weren’t a baker—hell, you barely knew how to fry an egg—but boredom had a cruel way of twisting your decisions.

So here you were, baking for the people who had stolen you away under the guise of "family."

Not that you called them that.

Still, the silence of the manor grated on your nerves, and after hours of sulking and dodging their hovering presence, you thought, Why not? Maybe the mess would annoy them. Maybe the smell would be enough to break through their obsession-induced fog and remind them you weren’t playing along with their delusions.

The cupcakes you pulled from the oven looked… edible. Kind of. Half were lopsided, and a few were slightly charred. You dumped a ridiculous amount of frosting on top in an attempt to salvage them, but the end result was a tray of pastel blobs with vaguely cake-like shapes.

“Perfect,” you muttered sarcastically, swiping frosting from the counter with a finger.

Before you could second-guess your plan, the sound of footsteps approached. Slow, calculated. Bruce. You didn’t need to see him to know it was him—the weight of his presence filled the room like a stormcloud.

“Baking?” His voice was calm, laced with a hint of curiosity that made your skin crawl.

“Yeah,” you replied shortly, not looking at him. You started stacking the cupcakes onto a plate, pretending you didn’t care that he was watching. “Got bored.”

Bruce stepped closer, the faint rustle of his coat as deliberate as everything else he did. You hated how easily he could unsettle you. “It’s nice to see you trying something new,” he said, his tone gentle—fatherly, even.

You rolled your eyes, grabbing the plate and shoving it toward him. “Here. You can have them.”

Bruce took the plate without hesitation, his gloved hands looking out of place against the childish swirls of frosting. “Thank you,” he said, as though you’d gifted him something precious. “The others will appreciate this.”

As if summoned, the rest of the Batfamily began to trickle in.

Dick was the first to arrive, his easy smile faltering only slightly when he saw the cupcakes. “Did you make these, [Name]?” he asked, grabbing one before you could answer.

“Yep,” you said flatly, crossing your arms. “Don’t expect much.”

He took a bite. For a moment, his face betrayed nothing, but then his expression twisted into something that could only be described as polite horror. “Wow,” he managed, forcing a swallow. “These are… unique.”

Jason snorted as he sauntered in, the smell having lured him from whatever dark corner he’d been brooding in. “What’s this?” he asked, swiping a cupcake from the plate Bruce held. “Looks like someone murdered a unicorn.”

“Eat it and find out,” you snapped.

Jason raised an eyebrow but took a bite anyway. His reaction was less subtle than Dick’s—he gagged dramatically, spitting the mouthful into a napkin. “What the hell, kid? Did you put salt instead of sugar?”

“I don’t know, maybe!” you shot back, your cheeks flushing with embarrassment.

Tim appeared next, looking bleary-eyed and clutching a mug of coffee. He grabbed a cupcake without a word and took a bite. His eyes widened slightly, and he coughed. “Is this… is this cinnamon?”

“Possibly.”

“Cinnamon and… garlic?”

You frowned. “I didn’t put garlic in there.”

Damian was the last to enter, his nose wrinkling at the plate as though it offended him on a personal level. “What is this monstrosity?” he asked, glaring at the cupcakes.

“Dessert,” you said dryly. “Take it or leave it.”

To your surprise, he picked one up, inspecting it like it was a puzzle he intended to solve. He took a cautious bite, chewed, and swallowed. “Tolerable,” he declared, setting the half-eaten cupcake down with a disdainful sniff.

“See? Tolerable,” you said, pointing at Damian as though his judgment absolved you.

Jason groaned. “Tolerable isn’t exactly a ringing endorsement.”

Bruce, who hadn’t taken a bite yet, finally broke his silence. “It’s the effort that matters,” he said, his gaze settling on you with unnerving intensity.

You glared back at him, hating the way he spoke as though you’d done this out of love rather than sheer boredom. “Don’t read into it,” you said sharply. “It’s not like I had anything better to do.”

Bruce didn’t respond, but the faint smile tugging at his lips told you he didn’t believe you.

Despite the disaster your cupcakes turned out to be, they ate them—or tried to. Even Jason, after some grumbling, finished his. Maybe they thought it would please you. Maybe it was another way to force their twisted idea of “family” on you.

Or maybe, you realized with a pang of unease, they just couldn’t say no to you.

The thought was more unsettling than anything else.