#treasure imagines masterlist

[atinyjules]

TREASURE REACTIONS MASTERLIST

Treasure reaction to their s/o's henna design hyung line / middle line / maknae line

Treasure reaction to their s/o speaking in their native language.

Treasure reaction to seeing their foreign s/o in their traditional attire.

Exploring Switzerland with Treasure

[aclowntiny-ficrecs]

♱♡♱ Fic Recs Masterlist! ♱♡♱

Some of my favorite writings for Ateez, Seventeen, NCT, Stray Kids, Enhypen, Treasure...

Ateez

🏴‍☠️⚔️⛓

Seventeen

1️⃣7️⃣💎

NCT

✳️🌃❇️

Stray Kids

💥🧭🌟

Enhypen

🦇🔮⚰️

[jaeyunluvr]

JAEYUNLUVR's MAIN MASTERLIST

ENHYPEN. OTHERS.

[ppongie]

C.HYUNSUK - On n Off

(Heavily inspired by the book ‘Magnolia parks by Jessa Hastings’ !)

You and Hyunsuk have been on and off for quite a while. The two of you are still holding onto each other despite the messy breakup you’ve had three years ago. You still see him, hang out with him, and talk to him. But you two keep hurting each other in the process of it.

Everybody knows you want him back, and everybody knows that he wants you too..

But why keep hurting each other? Well, it’s for revenge really. You’ve seen him in parties making out with multiple girls, and he’s seen you being touched by other men. Adding more fuel to the fire to get a reaction from one another.

When the night comes and the moon is as clear as ever, that’s when Hyunsuk wants you to come over. And you do. You wanted to see his presence every day. Your world can’t live without him. A life without him is like hell on earth.

He made you feel things no other man had made you feel. Lust, comfort, and love. Your grip on him grew stronger because of that one incident.. You almost lost him one night and you yelled at him for it.

The only response you got from him was an eye roll. Rude, but he took your words into consideration. He loved you too, anytime he felt like he was losing you he had the urge to lose him self too.

Drugs was the solution of it all.

“Hyunsuk we keep going around in circles-“

“And that’s my fault?” He lets out a huff in disbelief. The two of you were to blame. “I’m not saying it is-“

He shook his head and bit on his toothpick harder as he looked away from you, those killer eyes of yours, those doe eyes.

“So what are we right now? Hm?” He asked in frustration as you played with the bracelet he got you on your twenty first birthday, isn’t it embarrassing to have him everywhere with you too?

“I don’t know.. I just-“ you paused and tried to wait for him to look into your eyes once more. “I don’t want to lose you again.” you say in a whisper.

For a moment the two of you exchanged a look, eyes can speak far more clearer than words. And that was enough to form fresh new tears in your eyes. It was painful but you couldn’t help it.

He wanted you and you wanted him. But it wasn’t that easy.

He cheated and you ran off. Yet he kept apologizing for his mistake and you can’t seem to understand why. “Why did you do it?” “Because I did.” Was his answer.

It still didn’t make sense. Non of this makes sense. Chasing each other didn’t make sense at all.

[wonulune]

𝐌𝐀𝐈𝐍 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

𖧧 &TEAM MASTERLIST

𖧧 𝗔𝗧𝗘𝗘𝗭 𝗠𝗔𝗦𝗧𝗘𝗥𝗟𝗜𝗦𝗧

𖧧 ENHYPEN MASTERLIST

𖧧 NCT MASTERLIST

𖧧 SEVENTEEN MASTERLIST

𖧧 TXT MASTERLIST

© wonulune || tumblr

[monfixity]

Masterlist: Treasure

A/N: Please remember to read the rules.

Choi Hyunsuk

🌸 nothing yet

Park Jihoon

🌸 Enough

Yoshinori Kanemoto | Yoshi

🌸 nothing yet

Kim Junkyu

🌸 nothing yet

Asahi Hamada

🌸 Pinwheel

Yoon Jaehyuk

🌸 nothing yet

Kim Doyoung

🌸 nothing yet

Haruto Watanabe

🌸 nothing yet

Park Jeongwoo

🌸 nothing yet

So Junghwan

🌸 nothing yet

Mashiho Takata

🌸 nothing yet

Bang Yedam

🌸 nothing yet

[kingdom-mcnd]

requests

hi everyone i really want to write again. So please leave a request. or let me know if you want anything for any group. I write for all groups. or if you want a part 2 for something or like a full story of a reaction I wrote. Thank you so much already

[chuluoyi]

Baby gojo and daddy gojo not wanting to share mama gojo😭✋i-

࿐ ࿔ 🕰️ 「 06:20 P.M 」

aww this is so cute of course this is the first i worked on after getting back from my weekend break <3 and actually i have this one similar ask too so i combined yours with theirs! here's some cute blinking gojo in phantom parade and okay now let us have some crack and make gojo suffer

a part of gojo's love entries

general masterlist

“bwah!” a nudge.

“myah!” a shove.

and then—

“waaa!” a… slap (?) on the cheek.

“huh?” satoru winced, touching where the baby’s palm just connected with his face, blinking rapidly. so he wasn’t imagining things. this really was happening in front of his eyes.

and it was the baby—his baby.

your giggles filled the air in response.

“hey, you,” satoru took on a very stern look and an exaggerated frown, glaring at his own son. the baby merely babbled at him innocently, blinking his wide crystal blue eyes that mirrored his. “bad, bad minion. this is a very serious issue. you shouldn’t do that, you hear?”

the serious issue being each time he tried to lean closer to steal a kiss from you, your son always found a way to repel him away with his tiny hands.

you snorted at his righteous tone. “he’s just protecting me. even your kid knows you’re a danger.”

a gasp left your husband’s shiny lips, mockingly in disbelief. “me? a danger? i make your life a heaven on earth!”

“heav—pfft—”

“i give you love, food, my body—” he emphasized, pointing at himself for a dramatic effect, and you threw your head back, dissolving into a fit of laughter even more, “—heck, i even give you this naughty baby!”

“wha—no! that’s team effort!”

“still! and now he is staging an uprising against me?” satoru cheekily eyed his child, who was now clutching the fabric of your blouse, tiny fingers playing with the shiny diamonds of your necklace—a gift from satoru too, actually.

“look at him go,” he grumbled, his eyes following each little movement his son made, then dramatically yelped when the boy pawed at your breasts. “hey! no touching! those are mine!”

“please.” you almost choked on your laugh. your silly husband always had a way to make things sound funnier than they actually were, and that was what made you fall in love with him more each day, really. “the milk is his!”

“he can have the cow’s! and more importantly, it’s thanks to me that you’re so milky—”

“satoru! you’re so uncouth i can’t—!”

“see? you’re laughing so much! this proves enough that i make you happy every day!”

later that night, after you put your baby to sleep in his crib, satoru gently poked his cheek, his expression tender despite his pursed lips. “he is out like a light…”

satoru might whine a lot, but ultimately, you couldn’t miss the look of adoration and fondness that made him the father of your child. even without saying it out loud, you knew that he would willingly put everything aside and sacrifice anything—first of all, himself—if it was meant for his dearest, most precious treasure.

knowing he'd do the same for you only served to melt your heart even more. and you felt full—so full, in fact, with warmth and love and anything that was soft.

you really do love him, don’t you?

“look at him, he’s like a shrimp,” your husband pointed out, still gazing at his baby in wonder as he kept poking and prodding at the chonky rolls of his little arms, and you thought, nothing could have been more precious than this.

“satoru.”

“yeah?” he turned instantly at the sound of his name, but before he could react further—

you stood on your tiptoes and planted a swift smooch on his cheek, putting the overflowing love you held for him in it. “mwah!”

“…?!”

for the next three seconds, satoru malfunctioned. the brush of your sweet lips on his cheek was so innocent that he was rendered speechless. heat steadily gathered on his face, turning him pink despite himself.

“you…” he groaned, collecting himself, a dopey smile was quickly plastered on his face to cover up his setback as you burst into hearty laughter. “now you’ve started it…” and then he latched on you with a glint of a joker, launching a full-blown tickle attack.

“a—ah! why?! satoru! ahahahaha!”

. . .

safe to say, your wheezes effectively awoke your son from his slumber, and as a bit of payback, you left satoru in the dust to deal with the crying baby, both of them whimpering in unison since he had absolutely no clue how to comfort the little one.

[grandline-fics]

the fic you just posted of them hurting their s/o while not in control could you do the same scenario with Luffy, Ace and Sabo :3

DESCRIPTION: They hurt you while controlled by a devil fruit

WARNINGS: angst, descriptions of injury, hurt to comfort

CHARACTERS: Lufy, Ace, Sabo | Zoro, Law, Shanks, Mihawk , Crocodile, Kid

WORDS: 2,224

A/N: I finally managed to come up with scenarios for the brothers and I hope you're happy with the result. Thank you for the request!

*REQUESTS ARE OPEN*

MASTERLIST | PROMPT LIST

———————

LUFFY

The first thing Luffy saw when he finally snapped out of the strange haze of pure aggression that had possessed him was the horrific sight of your body being hit by his gum-gum whip. One second you were doubled over his arm and as the impact hit you were thrown back at a forceful, blinding speed with no one being able to react in time to stop you from hitting the ground. They could only watch as you crashed loudly against the floor and tumbled, the momentum carrying you until you slid to a stop in a crumbled heap. 

Usually energetic and first to act, Luffy found himself completely frozen as he stood and stared only at your form finding it unrecognisable. No, it couldn’t be you. You looked so tiny as he watched Chopper hurry to your side and roll you over to check on your injuries. Your body was limp and bloodied and it was his fault. Slowly Luffy looked down at his shaking hands and he glared at them as he grit his teeth so tightly he felt like his own jaw would snap under the pressure and if it did, then it was the least he deserved. 

When everyone was safely on the Sunny and Chopper was tending to your wounds, the others filled Luffy in on what happened. None of them knew something was wrong until it was too late. One minute they were watching Luffy effortless deal with his opponent as he usually did. The next his opponent had done something to him just before falling unconscious. Then everyone was trying to reach their Captain and calm him as he suddenly went on a rampage. Incoherently he was yelling out attacks and throwing them out at random. For the longest time they all held their own and were able to dodge Luffy’s attacks but sadly you got hit just as the rampage.

No matter how much everyone told him it wasn’t his fault, Luffy ignored them. He’d done the worst thing imaginable. Yes, he’d fought Usopp and Sanji, and even Zoro in the past but those were in fights they both agreed to. What he’d done to you… again the image of you getting hit flashed in his head and he sharply slammed his fist on the table, leaving the kitchen and ignored Sanji’s call that dinner would soon be ready. Instead he continued walking until he was perched on Sunny’s head. Throwing himself down, Luffy tightly shut his eyes and tried to shut everything and everyone out.  

You woke a day later, pain flaring through your body dizzyingly. Even when you tried to sit up as slowly and as carefully as you could, it was still too much and you could only let out a shuddering gasp and had to go even slower. Exhausted you finally managed to sit up and blinked to notice the iconic straw hat of your Captain and boyfriend on the bed. It must have been set on you while you were sleeping and moved when you’d woken. Gingerly you let your fingers skim the edge of the hat and you pulled it closer. “I’m sorry.” You looked to see Luffy enter, it almost seemed wrong that he wasn’t wearing the hat. 

He knelt on the floor and folded his arms on the bed, looking up at you sadly. As much as he wanted to punish himself, he couldn’t bring himself to be apart from you. Your free hand lightly moved to run through his head. “Why do I have your hat, Luffy?”

“I wanted to show you how sorry I am. It’s my treasure…but you’re more important to me. Forgive me?”

“Luffy, there’s nothing to forgive.” You told him softly, using all the strength you could to lift his hat back onto his head where it belonged, relieved to see the visible weight on Luffy’s shoulders lift. It hadn’t mattered to him what the others said, he needed to hear it from you and only you to know you didn’t hate him. Only your opinion mattered and to know you still loved him and looked at him the same way was all he needed. 

ACE

He was a monster, this proved it. Ace knew that it was only a matter of time before his evil blood reared its ugly head and made him unrecognisable, made him act against his morals and instincts. Although technically it was an enemy Devil Fruit user that controlled him, ordered him to destroy everything in his path and hurt those he loved, the end result was still the same. A switch had been flipped in his mind and he became a mindless, destructive force of fire and choking ash. It was a miracle no one was killed and that was thanks to you but your intervention came at a price.

When Ace woke from his confusion he felt drained and saw the sea prism cuffs on his wrists but what caught his attention was your pained whimper you’d tried to bite back as Marco got to work on healing you. Through the blue flames Ace could see the swirled burn marks against your arm and shoulder. Sickened he looked away from you and saw the destruction he’d caused. Buildings were now smouldering as his flames were dying down, taken care of by his crew while the people who lived in the small town watched on. There was a small clink and Ace blinked to see Izou unlocking the cuffs, holding Ace’s powers at bay. “We took care of the bastard that did this to you. You weren’t the only one he’d terrorised with his ability but you are the last. No one holds you accountable Ace.”

Despite the kind words, Ace still felt himself falling further into self-loathing he hadn’t experienced in a long while. For days he withdrew himself and silently worked with the others to rebuild the village he’d destroyed. He didn’t deserve his family in the Whitebeard crew, his didn’t deserve Pops’ reassurances, he didn’t deserve the tattoo on his back that he’d always displayed proudly. He didn’t deserve you and anytime you tried to approach, Ace made a quick escape. 

At first you decided to give your lover some space to clear his head and work on repairing the village. As much as you’d wanted to do your part, your burns left you unable to do much of the heavier work. Marco had been very insistent that you just sit back and rest and anytime you made a move to so much as look at the tools or materials they were using, the Phoenix would float as if from nowhere and demand to know why you were ignoring his medical orders. During your latest admonishment you felt a stare aimed at you. Looking over you caught Ace’s gaze only to sigh when he quickly lowered his head and walked away. Now it was your turn to ignore Marco and you walked after your boyfriend. You finally caught him on the ship and stood firmly in the doorway, blocking his only escape. 

“No more running Ace. We have to talk about this.” You told him, watching him flinch and look at the ground. “Look at me, Ace. Please.”

“I can’t bear to see that look in your eyes.” He whispered and your eyebrows furrowed in confusion. 

“What look?” You asked. “Ace, I don’t blame you for my injury. I don’t look at you any differently.”

“Exactly.” He ground out, hands balling against his sides. “You should hate me, see me as the monster I am. I can’t stand to see you still look at me with love in your eyes.”

“Ace I’ll always love you.” You told him, beginning to step forward. Even without looking at you, Ace sensed your advance and responded with a step back. 

“Don’t.”

“I love you Ace.” You reaffirmed. Your fingers reached out to slip around his fist, gently coaxing his hand to relax. “I love you.” You repeated those three impactful words over and over again until you finally felt Ace’s arms wrap around you and let him bury his face into your uninjured shoulder. For every apology that spilled from his lips, you answered with a declaration of love for him, soothing his guilt slowly but surely.

SABO

Normally Sabo would feel nothing but restless excitement to be finally returning to the Revolutionary Army base, to finally see you again. Normally a mission lasting two months would have driven him to make up the time apart to you and promise that his next mission would be short. This time however? He was only returning to quickly give Dragon a report and then demand the next mission available. Preferably the longer the better. Sabo still couldn’t shift the pit of ice twisting painfully in his stomach or bring himself to feel anything but shame and heartbreak. He’d hurt you. On your last mission, an enemy had gotten the better of you both and used his ability to make Sabo his mindless puppet, given the simple order of ‘destroy your comrade’ before escaping. 

While you were fiercely strong and capable, Sabo always had just a little bit more of an edge in combat by comparison and with no restraint, he was deadlier than normal. Knowing you had to fight back against your lover if you wanted to both survive this ordeal. Hack and Koala were outside and you were counting on him to pursue your target while you held your own in your fight, in the hopes Sabo would eventually snap out of it. You’d done as you intended but one moment of hesitation was all it took. 

You didn’t react in time and Sabo’s pipe connected against your head, knocking you to the ground. Dazed and in pain, you tried to push yourself to your feet only to freeze when Sabo’s Dragon Talon latched onto your spine. Panic set in and your tried to break free before he properly attacked but in seconds his fingers flexed and you shrieked in agony. Neither of you could tell for certain if the sound of your pain, Koala taking down the target, or the effect of the ability had simply worn off but Sabo released you and staggered back while you passed out from the pain. Had he put any more power into the attack or let it prolong any longer than he had then you would have never been able to walk again. 

While that was a good result, the damage was already done and you had a long road to recovery to take. Unable to face you or what he’d done, Sabo took the mission he was only now returning from. He hadn’t even waited for your to wake. He couldn’t justify acting like nothing had happened. The shame was too great for him to face you. 

“What do you mean there’s no missions?!” Sabo demanded as he stood in Dragon’s office.

“None for you, not until you settle matters here.” His superior explained, keeping his eyes trained on Sabo’s report. “You’re needed more here than out there, Sabo. Now get to the infirmary.” Unable to disobey a direct order, Sabo nodded and did as he was told. He was a fool to hope he could run forever. 

Silently he entered the room to see you diligently working through your physiotherapy exercises. Your steps were still slow but you could see the improvement all thanks to the Revolutionary’s medical team and your own resilience. Hearing the door, you looked up to see Sabo and while you felt relieved to see him home safe, you couldn’t help but feel hurt that he hadn’t said goodbye in the first place. 

“Did you get lost?” You asked lightly, a joke you both always said when the other was away for any longer than a week. Sabo couldn’t bring himself to answer with his usual cheer and playful tone. Instead he swallowed the lump in his throat and glanced at the doctor. 

“Could you give us a few minutes?” He requested gently. When the room was empty and you moved to the nearest seat, still finding long periods on your feet to be draining, Sabo cleared his throat. “I know I have a lot of apologising to do and I know none of it is going to change what I did but please know I’d understand if you wanted to end things and won’t object-”

“Hit me, Sabo.” You demanded, shocking Sabo into stopping his rambling. 

“What?”

“Hit me, kick me, whatever you want.” You shrugged, watching him approach you slowly. 

“No! I’d never do that to you.” Sabo refused, crouching down in front of you to remain eye-level. His expression became even more confused when you smirked at him in satisfaction.

“Exactly. You’d never hurt me.” You repeated. “You’d never knowingly or willingly hurt me. You didn’t have to run away. I understood.”

“I’m sorry. I’ll make it up to you.”

“Just don’t hide from me again, okay?” You asked, reaching out to cup his face. “If I’m to get my strength back I need you here to support me.”

“I’ll never let you down again.” Sabo promised, leaning into your touch and finally allowed himself to feel the warmth and relief of returning home to you.

-----------------------------------------------

TAG LIST (If I've missed anyone or if you want to be added just let me know) @3v37773, @tsaaps , @i-am-all-love-puns-and-lazy , @sanemisnonexistenteyebrow , @fiery-captain-spider-santa

[atinyjules]

WINGARDIUM LEVIOSA! FT. KIM DOYOUNG

Another request by Katie🌼

I honestly just went random with this one so I hope you guys like it!✨

Genre: fluff, crack au, romance

Pairings: Doyoung x named reader

Warnings: A few curse words here and there

Everything happened so quick, one second you were laying on your bed and the next moment you were running towards Treasure's dorm. The moment you read the email you knew that you had to tell Doyoung. You and Doyoung were the biggest Harry Potter fans.

You were a budding actress and the moment you heard that HBO were holding auditions for the new Harry Potter series you rushed to the spot and auditioned. Today was the day you finally got the results and well you screamed your lungs out the moment the email read that you were casted. Doyoung being your biggest hype boy you knew he had to be the first one to know.

"Doyoung!!!" you exclaimed and banged on the door as you couldn't hold your excitement. You giggled the moment you heard the familiar sound of Doyoung's voice as he shuffled from inside the dorm.

"I need to tell you something!!" the both of you screamed in unison making each other laugh after.

"You have something to tell me? I have something to tell you too! But you say yours first." you said as you entered the dorm and removed your shoes after which you entered the living room.

"No, no ladies first so Aera, you first." Doyoung said and encourage making you smile as you sat down and smiled happily.

"You'll never guess what I found in my emails..." you trailed as ge nodded eagerly, equally excited.

"Tell me, tell me!" he encouraged as you stood up.

"Okay, okay...remember when I told you I auditioned for this one movie?" you questioned and giggled when Doyoung stood up in excitement, eyes lighting up.

"You got it?" he asked as you nodded and took off your coat.

"I'm gonna be a Hogwarts student!!" you squealed making him scream and quickly pick you up and twirl you around.

"I'm gonna be a Hogwarts student too!! I got casted for Harry Potter too!!" he exclaimed making you gasp as you both quickly hugged each other while jumping in the process.

"I'm so happyy!!" he exclaimed as you nodded.

"I'm happier!!" you chirped.

"I'm not." the both of you stopped midway your celebration when you turned to meet a pouty Junkyu who stood by the door.

"I wanted to be on the show too..." he said making you smile as you went to hug him.

"Don't worry! We'll give you spoilers." you teased making his usual bright smile to grace his features as hugged you back.

"You're the bestt!" he said when Doyoung cleared his throat. Both you and Junkyu began laughing when you turned back to see him in his Hogwarts uniform, posing with his wand.

"What are you doing stupid?" you said and giggled as Junkyu slapped his back.

"Yah! When did you even change into your outfit?!" he exclaimed in pure shock gaining the attention of the other members.

"What's the ruckus?" Haruto asked and came in to see Aera and Doyoung both in their Hogwarts uniforms.

"We're getting ready to go to Hogwarts!" Doyoung chirped and swayed his wand around.

"We got casted for the new Harry Potter movie!" you translated making Haruto gasp and tackle both you and Doyoung in a hug.

"Bring me some merch." he said after putting the both of you down.

"Sure!" you exclaimed as Doyoung went a few steps back and did his 'cool' wizard poses.

"The hell are you doing again?" you questioned as Haruto pulled you to his side.

"Cast a spell on him to see if he reacts." he suggested making you smirk as you took out your wand.

"Wingardium Leviosa!!" you say and flick your wand towards Doyoung who obviously kept up with the act pretending to levitate making Junkyu and Haruto burst out laughing.

"What are you guys doing??" Junghwan and Asahi came in only to laugh along with the others as the both of you pretended to dodge each other's spell.

"We're trying to work-" Hyunsuk's words disappeared from his mouth the moment he say Doyoung hanging by the window.

"Alohomora!" Doyoung said making you furrow your eye brows.

"There's no lock around here..." you trailed making Doyoung jump down from the window with a smirk as he approached and dipped you.

"I used that spell to unlock your heart~" he said making you giggle as the others turned away disgusted or tease you.

"Ayy, nation's couple!" Junkyu howls along with Yoshi as Jeongwoo throws a side eye at the overly lovey dovey couple.

"Get a room!" Haruto exclaims as Jihoon smacks his head.

"You're just jealous, come on let's give them some privacy." Jihoon says pulling Haruto away leaving the oth of them to themselves.

"I love you." Doyoung confessed and kissed you making you smile as you kissed him back.

"I love you too~"

No matter how lovey dovey you both were, at the end of the day everyone was equally envious and proud of their favourite couple for successfully bagging a role in the same movie so everything was fine.

_______________________

And that's it for this one! I hope you guys liked it!🦋✨🌻

Reblogs and likes are appreciated🌻💗✨🦋

[the-girl-wh0-cries-w0lf]

Chocolate Princess ♡

Willy Wonka x reader

Description - Y/n Ficklegruber can't help but become enamoured with the spectacularly peculiar man stood in the middle of the galleria.

Word count - 1.6k

warnings - fluff ♡

a/n: Watched Wonka today with my sister and my little cousins and honestly have never smiled so much during a film. Every bit of it was just pure wondourous imagination. And Timothee as Wonka was just too scrumptious! Who couldn't love him!

Masterlist

PART TWO

--♡--

I began everyday as I always did. Being ungraciously tumbled out of my pink satin sheets, poked and prodded by our various servants, squeezed into the most painstakingly prissy pink gingham dress (with a matching bow for extra faff), and hauled into my fathers car to join him on his way to work.

You see, I am the sole child of famed chocolatier Felix Ficklegruber. Since I had completed my mandatory years of studies, my days consisted of lounging about my fathers office in complete boredom. My mind practically weakened with the mundane repetitiveness of it all, and I knew it would surely combust if it was not stimulated soon. For 2 years now, I had been begging my father to allow me to study at the prestigious university at the edge of town. But each plea had been met with a scoff, an eyebrow raise and sharp “no”. Even the library was off limits.

I paced around his office, deliberately scuffing my mary janes against the carpet. I smirked at how each scrape made his face tick as if it was being flicked.

“Would you cease that infernal racket. I am trying to work, precious girl.”

“What work? All you do is sit up here eating your own chocolate.” I slumped down onto the disgustingly green couch.

“Please darling, you are giving me a headache, I must ring for my 8am mocha.” He picked up the telephone, clasping his fingers to his eyes.

I drummed my fingers against my dress and clicked my heels together. “You know,” I trailed off. “I wouldn’t be here to bother you at all if…I was at the library.”

The phone was slammed back onto the receiver which made me flinch. He rose from the desk and stalked his way towards me.

“No daughter of mine will be caught in some stuffy book prison-”

“That’s not entirely correct..”

“--That are refuge for the ugly, the untalented and the p–” He dry heaved. I winced at the possibility of another spew. “The p-” I lunged for a bowl as he spluttered.

“I know what you are going to say so maybe we should avoid any bodily functions.” I picked up his monogrammed hanky and wet it from my glass of water. I dabbed the cool liquid against his mouth. His eyes softened at my action and his hand softly clasped around my wrist.

“Sweetheart, you live in complete luxury. Have treasures other children couldn’t even dream of. Why can’t you just stay.” My gaze fell. His hands held my shoulders to turn me around and led me towards the towering window which overlooked the galleria. “Besides, one day you will inherit my pride and joy, my fortune, the very thing that ignites my soul, my–”

“Who’s that?” I interrupted, and pointed my finger to a beautifully disheveled man who had risen atop his suitcase in order to address the crowd. I quirked a smile and took in the strange man, who was truly more a boy, and his frightfully exciting appearance.

The thickness of the window meant I couldn’t hear what the boy was saying but his movements and expressions delighted me to no end. I giggled as he began to flap, mimicking a butterfly. I gasped as he produced from his shallow hat, a large jar of what appeared to be chocolate eggs. But once he took the top off, I shrieked in delight, as each little egg floated up as if carried by wings.

I felt my father stiffen before he shoved me away from the window.

“Now, now sweetheart. Do not bother looking at this man any longer. Clearly another hopeful vagrant but do not worry.” He lifted my chin with his pinky. “We shall deal with him right now.”

I rolled my eyes, knowing exactly who was ‘we’.

--♡--

Once the three had left their respective stores, I snuck out of our own and managed to squeeze my way through the crowd so I was left behind my father and my, and I regret to say it, godfathers.

They each took a bite of the treats offered by the mysterious man who beamed at them with awe filled eyes.

Even from my limited view I could see the flickers of enjoyment cross each of their eyes as they questioned the different ingredients. But my gazing was caught by the top hatted man. His smile grew even brighter as our eyes met. I felt unsure in the presence of a man such as him and all my normal instincts failed. So I settled on a little wave. He offered a small wave back.

“--100%, the absolute WORST!”

The man jumped out of his skin in glee, mishearing Slugworth because of his focus on me.

“Did you hear that ladies and gentlemen, an endorsement by–wait did you say the worst?”

Anger bubbling in my blood, I finally made my presence known.

“You lie, Arthur. I saw your face! You haven’t enjoyed a treat that much since daddy figured out how to make marshmallow flavored chocolate milk.”

There were murmurs amongst the three in agreement and fond memory of that chocolate milk. But they snapped back and I was held firmly by my father who apologized to Slugworth for my rude behavior. A cane was held down on the hand that gripped me. I looked up and met the sweet face of its owner.

“I am terribly sorry.” With a practiced flick I was released. I looped my hand around my saviours available arm. He led me backwards in comical cautiousness. “But I don’t think she’d like to be held for what comes next.”

Suddenly, the three men began to lift into the air.

“The hoverbugs from mumbai! They love chocolate! You must have put their eggs in the treat!” I exclaimed excitedly, whilst watching the hilarious display.

“Exactly.” In my glee, I hadn’t noticed the adoring look which the chocolatier had fixed on the side of my head.

The fun was interrupted by the chief of police. I rolled my eyes. Slugworth must have phoned.

“Now Ms Ficklegruber if you’d kindly step away from the criminal.” The chief of police gestured and I was led away as they interrogated the man whose name I still didn’t know. I looked on sadly as he was forced to give up his earnings. I shoved off the policemen’s arms, I made my way back over to the man whose face was as solemn as how happy it had been just minutes before. The excitement around the galleria had dimmed as various floating consumers were returned to gravity.

“I am really sorry.” I gestured to the measly sovereign he was left with.

“Don’t be. It was a law and I broke it. These fine men were merely doing their job. But a new day shall bring new promise.” He soldiered on with a smile and once again patted his hat back upon his head. “At least I can make rent.” He flicked the sovereign up and caught it once again.

“Where are you staying?”

“Scrubbits.”

My face fell in sympathy. “You didn’t read the fine print?” I pitied the poor man and what was about to befall him. Scrubbits contract was a common warning amongst residents but as I truly took in the whimsical nature which surrounded this man, I knew he wasn't from here. And that made me smile. This place could use something new.

He sheepishly scratched the back of his head and lowered his eyeline.

“You can’t read?” I questioned but my tone couldn't help but soften.

“I always thought my mama would teach me, but eventually my pursuits became solely chocolate.” I reached out and grasped his arm. Stroking the velvet beneath my fingertips.

Before I even knew what they were, the words left my mouth. “I could teach you.”

He was surprised. “You would? But why?”

“You’re interesting.” I peered back to the shop which loomed behind me. “I need that.”

“Forgive me, I have not even introduced myself.” He took off his hat and leaned into a deep bow. “My name is Willy Wonka.”

I giggled but responded with a curtsy of my own. “Y/n Ficklegruber.”

At the mention of my last name he looked towards the ceiling where my father still hung, gesturing feebly. “Wow. You really have chocolate in your blood. No wonder you’re so sweet.” Both our eyes widened when we realized what he said. A blush spread across my heated cheeks and meeting Willy’s eyes suddenly became impossible.

“Y/N GET AWAY FROM THAT CANDY GRABBING SCOUNDREL!” My fathers voice beat down from the ceiling where he had been watching my entire interaction with Wonka.

“Meet me at the fountain, tonight, 10pm sharp. Daddy will be in a sugar crash by then. It’ll be easy to sneak out.”

Before I could rush off to avoid my father once his feet returned to earth, Willy halted my movements and placed his empty palm out in front of me.

“Before you go, I want to give you something. You shouldn’t have anything I make in bulk. You deserve something a little more…” He placed a cloth over his palm and ripped it off revealing a deep red chocolate heart decorated with tiny flakes of gold. “Bespoke.”

I placed the treat in my mouth and audibly moaned at the taste. This man was a true genius. My father is going to be so mad. I could jump for joy.

“Till tonight, Mr Wonka.”

“Please, call me Willy.” I leaned up and delicately kissed his cheek in a way of goodbye.

--♡--

That night after discovering the true horror of what being a “guest” of Scrubbits included, Willy begged and pleaded with his newest friend, Noodle, to help him sneak out for the night because, in his words, he’d seen…

“The most beautiful girl to ever exist and if I don’t get to see her again tonight, my heart might just burst out of my chest!”

--♡--

[uhohdad]

Can i request hehe? loser!könig x clingy reader 😞🙏, thank youu😍🥰😘🫦😝😏

(18+) Loser!König x Reader

König’s never met someone so touchy before. Laying your soft, delicate hand on his arm so casually, not even slowing the story you’re recounting. He’s stopped listening the moment you made contact with him, it’s impossible to focus on anything but the searing, electric heat that builds under your hand.

He freezes whenever you greet him with a hug. You don’t even seem to notice how he short-circuits when you smush your cheek in the space just below his chest, little arms slung around his waist. He can’t even bring himself to return the embrace, staring down at you with wide eyes long after you pull away. A bright, toothy grin on your face as you ramble on like you hadn’t just gifted him the most intimate moment he’s had with another human being in years, entirely oblivious to the cock at attention and filling the slack in the front of his pants.

König doesn’t text. And when he does, he restricts it to business matters only. So he’s truly not sure how to respond to your messages that consist of mostly nonsense. The café drink you ordered this morning, a picture of a random dog you saw while out and about, a joke he doesn’t understand in the least bit … asking about his day?

You care about how his day went?

And now König texts. Fighting the truly arduous battle of having large hands and a tiny phone keyboard. Sending you responses that are littered with typos and nothing short of cryptic. He feels as if you’ve classically conditioned him, because every time his phone lights up, so does he. He nearly throws his phone across the room trying to retrieve it to see what you’ve sent him this time. He spends way too much time, especially before bed, rereading your old conversations and smiling at the silly things you send him.

His favorite are the photos. Selfies, you call them. Pictures of you doing mundane things - except you’re in them. Giving him a photo of your face without thinking twice, not knowing the worth of such a priceless treasure.

König could stare at your face for hours, soaking in every detail as he replays your conversations in his head, the echoes of your laughter in his ears and his hand wrapped around his frustrated cock.

He likes to imagine how soft your lips would feel, where those delicate hands would wander as you press your tongue to his. Those pretty, sparkling eyes staring up at him while you’re on your knees, struggling to swallow a cock that you’re clearly no match for. Wondering what your face would look like twisted with overstimulation and pleasure as you take his thick cock, your plush chest bouncing against your ribcage with each powerful thrust of his hips. He stares longingly at your photo through drowsy, half-lidded eyes, pumping his cock until his breathy grunts turn shallow, every muscle tight and trembling. His finish splatters over his stomach in creamy droplets, coating his hardened hands while he milks every last drop, imaging he’s staking his claim deep inside your cunt instead.

You’re torturing him with your insistence.

He hopes you never stop.

♡ KÖNIG DRABBLE MASTERLIST ♡

[ppongie]

ʀᴇQᴜᴇꜱᴛꜱ ᴀʀᴇ ᴏᴘᴇɴ!! ᴅᴍ ᴏʀ ꜱᴇɴᴅ ᴀɴ ᴀꜱᴋ!

[doromoni]

So Unaware | CL16

Ships : Charles Leclerc x F1 Academy Driver! Reader

Genre : Fluff

A/N : this is inspired by my own experience with a block mate from Uni. It was an entire situation, I can’t even comprehend so be distraught with me :))

Summary : When Charles mistakes Y/N’s enthusiasm and friendliness for flirting.

Masterlist

The F1 grid was having media day with the F1 Academy teams to show a united front or something like that. You weren’t so sure, you didn’t fully listen to the PR people’s instructions.

You were mindlessly walking around the ransacked snack bar looking for anything to munch on when suddenly a packet of gummies was in front of you and to your shock, it was Charles Leclerc himself who offered.

A wide smile presented itself on your lips as you thanked him for the snack. And being the nice person that Charles was he started small talk with you — the conversation found its way towards the passion you both shared it was your love for cold dairy treats! Ice cream.

Without noticing, you both got deep into talking — not minding other people present or the event happening around you. You were so deeply interested in Charles’ stories on his failed attempts to create the formula for Lec and Charles reciprocated the interest in your story of almost getting carbon dioxide poisoning as you overdosed on Dry Ice when trying to make Ice cream from home. You didn’t realize that people were noticing your interaction with the Ferrari Driver, with most of them thinking that there was indeed chemistry between the 2 drivers. People were starting to think that you had a thing for Charles.

“Ok, so what is the weirdest flavor you’ve thought for Lec” You eagerly asked the gorgeous red-clad driver in front of you who was leaning on the barriers.

“So much! But the weirdest has got to be the tomato with caviar. It was so repulsive you couldn’t imagine.” Charles's face scrunched up as he remembered the vile thing making you laugh at his theatrics.

“Well that sounds interesting, I mean caviar is salty so they balance each other out?” You muttered reluctantly

“Oh come on Y/N, don’t be nice on my behalf. It was disgusting. If you were only there to taste it” Charles said as he shook his head in amusement

“Is that an invitation, Mr. Leclerc? Count me as your beta tester then!“ You joked at the older driver.

“Oh I’m not sure, how can I be sure that you’re as good of an ice cream taster as you say you are Y/N” Charles joked back with a smile and you couldn’t help but notice the deep set of dimples on the man. How can a person be so attractive you couldn’t explain?

“How dare you question my professionalism, Mr. Ferrari driver! Well, I have a favorite Ice cream parlor near the hotel that I always go to when we drive in this country. Their Salted Vanilla and Balsamic with Strawberry is to die for! You need to try it” You exclaimed as you remembered the dainty mom-and-pop ice cream shop that held your heart — the Donofrios, was the breath of fresh air when you were having a hard time with insecurities and doubts about your career. Ever since then, it has become a tradition to visit them after every race here.

“Well ok Professional L/N. You need to take me there then” Charles replied cheekily at you.

“It would be my pleasure to share a treasure with a fellow enthusiast. How about after the race? Mr. Donofrio, he’s the owner and your fan, he would love to meet you” You giddily replied.

“Definitely! Give me your number so we can stay in touch” Charles gestures his phone towards you to put your number in his contacts.

“Oh yes of course! I swear, Charles you would love it there. Mrs. Donofrio even makes their waffle cones!” You answered excitedly as you gave Charles his phone back.

“After the race the “ Charles was cut off as you both heard someone calling his name. Looking at the direction of the voice, it turned out to be his manager.

“I need to handle something real quick, I’ll be back, ouias?” Charles says briefly squeezing your forearms and then proceeding to go to his manager. You nodded your head and sent him away with a smile and a wave.

“Did you just flirt with Charles Leclerc?” Emily, your teammate from Prema had suddenly sprung on you as she pulled you into the corner the minute Charles stepped away from your conversation.

“No? What do you mean?” You were confused at your teammate who was close to hyperventilating from excitement.

“I mean you talked with THE Charles Leclerc for a solid 30 minutes. You and him were smiling from ear to ear! Babe don’t get me started with the sparkle in your eyes” Emily said as she took hold of your shoulders and shook you till you started to feel dizzy

“Em, Stop! I’m getting dizzy. And what are you even talking about? We were just talking about racing, ice cream and some gossip in the paddock— that was it!” You exclaimed as you removed yourself from the clutches of your friend.

“Y/N, Babe. People don’t touch that much when talking about racing and ice cream” Em said a devious smile on her face as her eyebrows went up and down.

Horror suddenly fell on your face at the realization. You have the tendency to be touchy when you are over enthusiastic and excited about things — and Charles Leclerc was at the receiving end.

Based on your expression, Em then realized what had happened and started laughing hysterically.

“Y/N! I can’t believe you did it again! DUDE you’re so unaware, I love it! “ Emily was doubling over laughing at you and your overly friendly tendencies.

“EM! Not funny! Do you think Charles misunderstood? Do you think that he thinks that I was hitting on him? OH NO! Do you think that I was some creepy obsessed fan or something” You blurted out words at the speed of light. At your panic, Emily had laughed even harder.

You didn’t know what to think or do — when you felt a hand on your shoulder, causing you to look at the person.

Your eyes widened at the sight of Charles.

“Is she ok?” He asked referring to Emily still laughing with tears staining her cheeks.

“Uh… yes. I think. Yeah, she’s ok. Emily is ok” You replied forcing a smile, which you swore looked awkward. An elbowed Emily to stop laughing.

“So, uhm… can I have your teammate for a while, Emily?” Charles asked the girl who was trying her best to stop laughing. Emily only nodded as an indication of agreement, given that talking wasn’t an option at the moment.

To your surprise, Charles took hold of your hand — pulling you back to somewhere quiet.

“So, Y/N. Where did our conversation stop?” The Ferrari Driver asked with a smile.

“I wasn’t trying to flirt with you!” You suddenly blurted out, catching the Monegasque off guard.

“I’m sorry. What?” Charles asked a tad confused.

“I have this tendency to be over-excited and sometimes I get touchy… I just didn’t want to weird you out or think I was creepy and stepping out of line” You explained now getting nervous.

Charles looked at you for a solid 5 seconds then he started out laughing. He then suddenly held your hand again, now looking straight into your eyes.

“You weren’t flirting with me?” He asked.

“No…” you said quietly.

“Do you find me attractive?” Charles’ question catches you completely off guard. Rendering you speechless.

“Well do you, Cheri?” The Ferrari Driver asked once more, to which you only nodded sheepishly

“Great! Because I was flirting with you and I look forward to our ice cream date”

[absurdthirst]

Serving the General {Marcus Acacius x F!Reader}

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 4.9k

Warnings: Mentions of servants/slaves, mentions of war, mentions of blood/injuries, washing, vaginal fingering, vaginal sex, rough sex, power imbalance, unprotected sex, cream pie, cum eating, oral sex (male and female receiving), analingus, anal fingering, cock riding, slight breast play, hurt/comfort

Comments: Coming back from battle, Roman general Marcus Acacius has you waiting for him. Serving him to clean his wounds and soothe his soul with your body.

Co-written with @storiesofthefandomlovers

**Follow @absurdthirst-writes and turn on notifications to stay up to date on all new fics.

|| MasterList || Marcus Acacius MasterList ||

Click Keep Reading only if you have read the Rating and Warnings and understand the warnings may not be complete to avoid listing spoilers. As AO3 says 'creator chooses not to use warnings'. You also agree that you're the right age to be consuming anything here.

The sounds of the battle are muted, the tent you are in is far from the front lines. Smoke from the fires being tended by servants and slaves alike is heavy in the air. You can almost forget the clashing of swords and the sounds of the catapults being launched against the fortified town. The clanking of steel and screams barely rise above the crackling of burning wood and the rustle of fabrics as men and women move throughout the camp. 

You aren’t rushed. The large cauldron in front of the tent has already been filled by others, hot and ready for when the general returns. If he returns. Your face doesn’t show the worry that you carry, the fear that one day the man that you are serving won’t return. 

The heavily carpeting floors of the tent are luxurious. The furniture better than some would have in their homes, carted from one encampment to another, providing comfort and a sense of home for the high ranking and lauded general. He has been honored by the emperor, by Rome, with servants and treasures, riches bought by the cleverness of his war tactics and the strength of his sword. 

The tub has been brought in, soaps and perfumes set out at the ready for his return. Wine and food will be brought in, other servants retreating so that you can care for the general in private, as was his custom after returning from battle. 

Waiting is the worst part. Pacing around the large tent, wearing the simple silk gown that he prefers you in. Your sandals are nothing more than a quiet whisper over the threads of the ornate fabric, hauled in from the east. The jewelry on your body displays your elevated status. You are not a slave and are more than a servant, but you are not a wife. You are Marcus Acacius’s mistress and his constant companion. 

Marcus grunts as he stumbles through the encampment towards his tent. He had suffered a few swipes and bruises during the battle but he emerged victorious. He is eager to sink into a bath before he sinks into you. You will be waiting and that makes his battle hard fought. He imagines coming back to you, your sweet, relieved smile, and he fights harder. He will kill whoever he needs to to make it back to you. He cannot marry you. You aren’t of his status. Below a plebeian, you are not eligible to marry but he keeps you by his side. Selfish, he supposes, but you’re his lifeline. Long ago he lost his first wife who died in childbirth along with his son and he vowed to never marry again. He enjoys your company and he loves you in his own way but he still mourns his childhood love. He locates his tent and pushes the linen aside to stumble inside, his eyes immediately finding you.

“Marcus!” You rush over to him, throwing your arms around him. When it is the two of you, you are allowed to be emotional, to show him how you feel. Sometimes you think that he prefers that over being in the company of others and having to hide your emotions. His arms around you are strong and exhausted, the battle long and brutal. You pull back and frown when you see a cut on his cheek, his temple, the blood of others on his skin mixed with the dirt and sweat. “Let me tend to you.” You coo, fingers reaching for the ties of his armor. His nod is weary and you don’t call for anyone to help you, wanting to serve him yourself. His wounds fussed over and cleaned by your hands and his aches and pains soothed by your body.

He nods, unable to pretend that he isn’t battle worn and exhausted. He wants to relinquish his body to your touch. You work diligently to remove his armor and he’s soon left in his bloodied tunic while you guide him over to the steaming bath. You remove his tunic and he’s not ashamed to be half hard, his body running on adrenaline and the idea of being inside you again. “Come on, General. Get in.” You demand softly and he hisses when he steps into the water. “Too hot?” You ask and he shakes his head, “no. No. I'm just - too old for this.” He sighs as he sits down in the water.

There is gray in his hair and lines on his face, but he is still strong and healthy. A lifetime of war has worn him down and you know that he is tired of the constant battle for lands that Rome seems to be fighting. “You will feel better once you are clean, well fed and fucked.” You murmur, reaching for the cup of wine you had poured and pressing it into his hand before you pick up the cloth and soap.

Marcus closes his eyes as you start to wash him, “every day more men die. Fathers, brothers, sons. There’s nothing I can do except battle onward for the Emperor’s orders. How many men must die at my hand?” He whispers, hating how torn he is while fulfilling the oath he made to the emperor.

You understand the frustrations that Marcus feels. He sees the death and destruction that war has wrought, the emperor only seeing the glory of Rome in the crimson red of the blood spilt. The cloth swipes away the dirt and washes the blood clean, but you know that it will continue to stain his soul. Every bite of his sword into flesh weighing heavily on his mind and heart. “As many as it takes for you to live.” You murmur softly, keeping your touch gentle when you see a bruise near his ribs where his armor had saved his life. “You save your men with your tactics and your presence in battle beside them. If you were to fall, the army of Rome would suffer.” 

Marcus knows that what you are saying is correct but he can’t help but feel hopeless as he tries to reconcile the losses on the battlefield, knowing he will be delivering the news of their deaths to their families upon arrival back in Rome. “And the Emperor would fall.” He whispers, knowing that even saying that is blasphemy.

You don’t say anything, knowing that you shouldn’t have even heard those words being spoken from his lips. You move to his face and carefully clean up the cuts, blowing on the wounds when he winces. “Drink your wine.” You urge him. “I will refill your cup when it’s dry.” 

He grabs the goblet, taking a large gulp of wine and he hisses when you rub into his neck where he has his worst injury. “Nearly chopped my fucking head off but I managed to dodge it.” He admits nonchalantly like the violence doesn’t bother him anymore.

You want to lean in to kiss the wound, but it will need to be sewn up first but it can wait for now. “You are lucky that it did not end up that way.” You wring out the water and dab at it again. “I will get it closed for you and the paste put on it after you rest.” You promise, even though you know that he doesn’t care about scars. A lifetime as a soldier, his body is a roadmap of battles and injuries. 

He downs the rest of his wine, setting the goblet down as he looks at you with those dark eyes. He doesn’t know what he’d do without you. “Have I told you how beautiful you look?” He asks softly, wanting a moment to let you know how much he appreciates you.

Your eyes slide down, slightly embarrassed by his words. You know that he desires you, every time he touches you it’s with a rough devotion. He brands you with his touch. You look back up to find him watching you still. “I always want to please you.” You murmur softly. 

Marcus tuts, reaching up with wet fingers to grip your chin. “It’s not all about pleasing me. I want to please you. I wish I could give you more. Give you all of me but there are pieces that are lost. I no longer own those pieces to give to you.” He confesses like you don’t know this. “And society-” You add but he scoffs, “fuck society. Noblemen still die. No one is above the gods. I do not care about society. I simply wish to protect you.” He admits, “if I die…” He says and you open your mouth but his dark look stops you from speaking. “If I die, you must return to Rome. Atticus promises me he will make sure you return unharmed and there you will find my domus and you will remain there with my coin until the day we are joined in death.”

You don’t want to think about a life without him. You have been with Marcus for too many years. Your heart belongs to him. “I think that if you were to die, I would follow not too long behind you.” You admit softly, reaching out to cover his heart with your hand. “My heart is yours, just like my body.” You know that he cares for you, he has made that obvious even if he could not give you everything. 

Marcus offers you a rare smile, one that is only reserved for you, and his heart thumps when you assure him that you love him, that you are his. “Even so, I want to make sure you are protected and looked after in my absence.” He says as he reaches for your hand and presses a soft kiss to the back of it. “Wash me, mea columba.” He orders, wanting to wash the battle from his skin.

You nod, picking up the rag again and and you are thorough, washing his feet and then sliding the cloth up his thighs. “You survived.” You remind him, biting your lip as your fingers inch up. You know that he is half hard under the water, already thinking about how he is going to take you. He always does, after every battle, he comes back to this tent and works out the rest of his adrenaline on your body, leaving you a sweaty, cum filled mess on his bed. “Now you get the spoils of war.”

He chuckles, reaching for the decanter of wine to pour himself another glass. “You are my spoils of war? My gold? My treasure?” He smirks as your fingers trail up his thigh while you wash him. “Corculum.” He murmurs, watching you with rapture as you lean over the tub, “I want you.”

“You have me.” You promise him, leaning back and reaching for the gold hoop that holds up the delicate folds of your silk dress. It’s an ingenious design, slip the hoop from around your neck and the front of your dress falls, revealing your tits to him. You stand and let the dress fall to the floor and are completely naked under the thin dress. 

Marcus’s eyes trail along your body. You take his breath away every time he sees your figure. “Bella.” He murmurs, calling you beautiful. He wonders sometimes how he is worthy of touching you after his hands have taken so many lives. “Let me finish washing. I want to be clean when I’m inside you.” He declares, reaching for the cloth.

You watch him just as eagerly as he had watched you. Water cascading down his broad body as he stands to wash his cock. Watching him harden under your gaze and you know that he is eager to take you. “Bella.” you murmur softly, repeating the same endearment. While you can never call Marcus yours in any kind of social setting, you know that the general seeks out your company above those that would gladly throw themselves at the powerful man. 

He washes quickly, making sure he is clean, and he steps out of the tub. Water dripping from his body as his cock throbs for you. He wastes no time reaching for your body, pulling you up against him as he surges forward to crash his lips to yours.

A man of Marcus’s experience has a strong appetite. For food and wine, for sex. He knows exactly how he wants to pleasure you and take his pleasure from you. You give in to him and melt under the force of his lips, wrapping your arms around him and moaning when he picks you up and carries you the few steps to the bed to lay you down. 

He cannot be soft now. He will be later when he's fucked the adrenaline out but for now, he slides his fingers through your cunt. Pleased when he finds you wet enough to take him, and he positions his cock to push into you in one thrust, his body covering yours.

Your cry is silent, mouth open on a scream that could not be heard. Cunt clenching down around him while your fingernails dig into the meat of his shoulders. Filled with him until you cannot think of anything else but the way that his cock drills into you. “Marcus.” You gasp out when you finally catch your breath. 

Your gasps makes him smirk and he grabs your wrists, keeping them together in one of his large hands so he can keep you still. He starts to rock into you, a harsh pace, unrelenting and unwilling to give you time to breathe when he so desperately needs to assure himself that he is alive.

You love the way he needs you. Driving into you again and again with sharp snaps of his hips. You take it, every thrust that has you gasping and moaning. Your body trembling under the force of his need. He needs more, he needs everything and you whimper his name again and again, watching the way his jaw clenches and tights above you. 

He grunts as he pushes into you over and over. He's relentless, wanting to lose himself in you. An orgasm is the only time his mind goes blank. He doesn't get drunk enough to forget the cries of the men he has killed. He squeezes your wrists in his hand as he rams into you. "Fuck you are so tight." He hisses, bending down to bite on your neck.

You shiver when he bites down on your flesh, moaning as he fucks you. The bed groans and sways under the force of his thrusts. “Marc- Marcus.” You pant out raggedly, pushing your legs up on his hips, and wanting more from him. You turn your head, kissing his temple over and over again. “I love you.” 

He can't say it back, the memory of his wife and child haunting him so much that he could never allow himself to love again, but with you...he is close to that feeling. He grunts out a soft noise, pushing into you and feeling your body absorb the brunt of his thrusts. "Shit." He hisses, getting closer and the adrenaline surges as he pants out your name.

He never says the words, but you don’t take offense. You know about his wife, his child that he had lost. The pain and suffering that he endured until you had come into his life. Becoming his comfort. “Yes.” You whimper. “I -” You cry out, stiffening underneath him as your body lights up in pleasure, driven to that peak by the rough way he loves you. 

He hisses when you clamp down on his cock, making him struggle to push into you but he manages, thrusting a half dozen more times until he’s spilling against your walls. “Fuckkkk.” He pants, closing his eyes as he rests his forehead on yours, his mind blissfully blank.

You whimper his name, rocking your hips as he slows his thrusts until he collapses into you. Lifting a leg up over his hips, you hold him closer even as he holds your hands. He will release you when he’s ready and you can stroke and soothe his skin for the rest of the night if that is your wish. “My general.” You murmur softly. 

Your voice soothes him, keeps the horrors of his mind at bay. He breathes in the oils you bathe yourself in and he presses a soft kiss to your neck, letting you know how he feels about you without saying a word. You hum, running your fingers through his hair and he grunts, letting go of your wrists. He shifts rolling over so you are on top of him and his soft cock slips out of you. “Sit on my face, corculum.” He orders, wanting to hear your cries of his name.

He is greedy tonight. You know that he doesn't care that his seed drips out of your cunt, wanting to indulge in his pleasures. He is filthy when he wants to prolong the night and make your voice hoarse with crying out his name. The soldiers around his tent will hear every scream and cry, smirking when you emerge from the tent in the morning and carrying tales of their general’s virility to the campfires as they boast as if it was their own cock being used. Leaning down, you press your lips to his before your thighs frame his head and you wait for the first swipe of his tongue. 

He groans at the creamy mess he’s left between your thighs and he hisses, lifting his head so he can slide his tongue through your folds. He’s desperate to make you cum for him on his tongue. His calloused hands grab your ass to pull you down onto his face, wanting to be suffocated by you.

The first gasp of his name is loud, your hips rolling at the gentle pressure of his hands on your ass. Dragging your cunt over his face, his beard becoming drenched in a mixture of your juices and his moans of pleasure being absorbed into your body. Marcus has always been a very giving lover, wanting to hear your cries of pleasure to drown out the screams of pain and death that echo in his ears. “Marcus!” 

Your scream makes his soft cock twitch and he works his tongue inside you, his nose pressed against your clit. He groans at the way you grind down onto his mouth and he closes his eyes, absorbing your taste and your sounds to memory for when you eventually come to your senses and leave him.

You rock back on his face, your head tilted towards the sky and your hands sliding up to cup your breasts. His hands squeeze your ass, making you moan as you move. It’s indulgent and wicked, your body already slick with sweat as he devours you from below. “General,” you whimper. “You are so good at making me shake.” 

He loves hearing your praise and he laps at you like a dog, messy and uncaring as he desperately seeks your orgasm on his tongue. He wants to hear you scream his name again.

You grab on to one of the tent poles by the bed, hanging onto it as you ride your general’s face. His tongue pushed deep inside you. Glancing back, you see that his cock is still not hard again, so if you cum, he will seek another orgasm from you until he’s recovered. “Gods!” You squeal when he pulls his tongue out of your cunt and sucks your clit into his mouth. “Marcus!”

Your squeal of pleasure makes him hum with contentment and he groans against your clit when you roll your hips, chasing your pleasure, to extend it. He caresses your ass when you are still on top of him and he grabs you, shifting you until you are kneeling on the bed. "Going to make sure every bastard outside this tent knows who is making you cum like this." He hisses as he kneels behind you and bends over to slide his tongue through your sensitive folds until he is circling his tongue around your puckered hole.

Marcus has used every hole you possess, not allowing you to keep any part of yourself from him. You gasp out, but he just holds your hips firm in his large hands as he tastes you. You can and will let him do anything he wants, knowing that he is used to getting his way. He loves pushing you, making you wanton for him. “I- your tongue.” You moan, dropping down to press your face to the bed.

He grunts into your ass, loving the way you grind back onto him and he presses his thumb against the slick puckered hole as he slides his tongue back into your pussy, wanting to taste you again.

Your toes curl when he breeches the ring of muscles with his thumb, moaning like a whore while his tongue curls inside you. Eyes closing as you let him do what he wants. “I- I want to suck your cock.” You pant out. “Make- make you feel good.”

“Not yet.” He rasps as he pulls back from your cunt for a moment. “Going to make you scream my name all night.” He promises and dives back in, lowering his head in an awkward angle so he can suck on your clit. Every injury he endured is in the back of his mind as he focuses on you and how you taste.

He should be relaxing, letting you take charge of his pleasure, but that is not the kind of man Marcus is. He leads his men to their deaths and now, he pushes you towards orgasm. His hands are always engaged. His mind focused on nothing else but accomplishing his task, whether it is one he sets for himself or handed down from his emperor.

He sucks on your clit for a while until he’s dragging his tongue back through your folds, his thumb now pushed into your ass and he works it in and out, loving your sweet cries of pleasure but he wants to hear you fall apart for him.

Your gasp of his name is all you can manage. Your body rocking from the force of his thrusts of the thumb into your puckered hole. Cheek smooshed against the soft blankets, you feel your entire core start to tighten with that familiar draw. “Marcus- you, I’m going to -“ you babble, so close to the edge that you feel as if you are going mad.

He groans into your wet flesh when you babble, wanting you to cum for him. He ducks down to suck on your clit and that sends you over the edge. You cry out and he smirks around your bundle of nerves as you cum for him again.

You don’t hide your sounds. Making sure that your cries aren’t muffled in the least. The men near Marcus’s tent will know how talented their general is.

He loves that you let his men hear you, hear how he’s pleasuring you. He’s groaning and working you through it before he withdraws his thumb and playfully bites down on your ass. He’s half hard as he flops to lay down on the bed beside you.

You moan and quickly cover his chest to kiss his lips. “Let me pleasure you now.” You murmur, kissing his jaw and then down his chest. “Celebrate my general’s win by sucking his cock and then riding him until he cums.”

He groans when you take his cock into your mouth, hardening in your mouth as he watches you with dark eyes. “Fuck.” He hisses as you watch him as you take him deeper. “You are so good for me.” He murmurs in awe.

You would pull off his cock and tell him that he deserves everything good, but he would never believe you. Regret weighs him down with the mantle of responsibility so you try to ease his burdens or make him forget about them. You hum around his shaft and hold his hips while you work him deeper with every bob of your head.

He bites his lip after he curses again. Your mouth is his Elysian Fields. His heaven. The thing he thinks about when he’s in the baths alone when he’s in Rome. “Fuck.” He reaches down to caress your cheek, loving the way you are covered in jewels he bought you to claim you in the only way he can.

You lean into his touch, humming happily as his thighs tense and tighten. You slide your hand up to wrap around the base, squeezing it and pumping it as you work the head of his cock. Swallowing around his shaft makes him bite out another curse. You love when he lets you pleasure him, your cunt clenching around nothing.

“I don’t want to spill inside you.” He warns you, wanting to have you ride him just as you promised. He taps your cheek, knowing you’ll spend all night sucking his cock if he lets you but he desperately wants you to ride him so he can watch you cum again.

You pout slightly as you pull off his cock, the thin strands of your saliva keeping you connected until it breaks. “You do want to spill inside me, just not my mouth.” You tease, holding his cock and keeping the foreskin rolled down as you move to straddle his hips. “My general.” You coo as you line up and sink down on his length.

He watches you with the same concentration he applies during battle. Focused on where he disappears inside you with ease and he hisses when your wet walls grip him. “I want you to take what you want, amica mea.” He demands, his hands finding your hips to squeeze the flesh.

You love when you ride him, when you get to set the pace and rock your hips as you take him deeper. Marcus lays under you, his back cushioned against the bed and you lean forward to let your breasts sway in his face as you roll your hips and squeeze him tight inside your body.

He slides one hand down to squeeze your ass and the other sliding up to squeeze your breast. He loves the way you rock your hips, your cries of pleasure making him twitch inside you. "Fuck, that's it. Look so beautiful." He murmurs, looking up at you before he surges up to take your nipple into his mouth.

The sounds of the camp around you are audible, but all you can concentrate on is the feeling of his mouth on your breast, suckling on your nipple. “Marc!” You moan, pushing your hips back a little harder as you slam down on his cock.

He bites down on the bud and he slaps your ass cheek, loving the way you moan his name for the whole of the fucking Empire to hear who is making you feel like this. "That's it." He growls, kissing your sternum.

Marcus Acacius is a fierce soldier and general, just like he is a fierce lover. Your body responds to his touch like a wildfire is spreading in your blood. Making your hips speed up and you bounce faster on his cock, riding him like you would his giant war horse if you were trying to outrun a barrage of arrows. “Marcus- I- Marcus!” You scream out, body stiffening in pleasure as you start to cum.

When you clamp down on his cock, he hisses at how fucking tight you get, and you collapse forward onto his chest. "Fuck. Fuck. Fuck." He grunts, wrapping his arms around you, thrusting up into you. He works you through your orgasm and loves the way your wails continue as you ride your high.

Turning your head, you press your lips to his skin, kissing his shoulder and up his neck. “I love you.” You moan softly. He won’t return the sentiment, he can’t, but you can say it for the both of you. “Cum for me.” You urge softly. “Fill me up.”

He wants to hold off again but your cunt is squeezing him and you are kissing his neck. "Fuck, amor." He lets his emotion slip as he thrusts up into you until he is pulsing, painting your walls with his seed.

You whine softly, loving the feeling of warmth as he floods your womb. Kissing his pulse and panting against his skin. “You are perfect.” You praise him. “The gods have blessed me when they gave me to you.”

He grunts as you shower him with sweet words and for a moment, he wishes he was a simpler man. A plebeian who could marry you and bring you into daylight, but he can’t. You are his mistress and you are hidden in the shadows because of who he is, what he is. His hands caress your sides as he relaxes beneath you, body aching now the adrenaline has worn off.

“Sleep.” You coo, feeling his breathing start to slow down. His body is slipping into the boneless exhaustion. He will need to eat, but he can rest for now and you will take care of whatever he needs when he wakes. The general has fought hard today and deserves the comforts you can afford him. You kiss his chin and then his lips. “Sleep, my love.” You urge him softly. “Roman glory can wait.”

[acid-ixx]

Okay, how about we call Alfred dad??? Sense he raised us and practically is our dad. Sorry I keep on asking. I just am a thinker

series masterlist

a/n: don't be sorry for asking ! i like answering asks even if i do answer really slowly, so don't be afraid to send in questions ! this is a continuation to this ask.

it would actually be a given that if the reader wasn't too broken to the point that they genuinely could never consider anyone as a father figure, then alfred would be someone they would call their dad.

because at least in their 15 years they had been inside the manor, alfred would always be the one who would stand by their side. even if it's not always, he would be there for you when he could. and that effort alone is enough to consider him worthy as your father.

pre-yandere bruce wouldn't even know of your tight-knit relationship with alfred; calling him dad when you skip through the halls with him, calling him your "actual father" whenever you two would bake together, and even going as far as gifting him a mug with 'no. 1 dad!' painted sloppily into the ceramic. alfred would even teach you how to crochet, so you two would get matching sweaters for winter. although alfred wouldn't wear the sweater for the sake of formality, you would always be aware that he stores them somewhere safe and warm as some sort of treasure.

so, imagine just how heartbroken bruce would be once you are abducted by your family, calling out to your dad in your drugged state on your bed, bruce thinking that it was him that you're calling for help when all of a sudden, you make grabby-hands towards alfred, eyes hazily looking at the butler with such desperation that it feels like alfred is your actual father.

seeing you two act so close, bruce would be so, so conflicted. because at least, in the years of solitude you had spent, you find comfort in the very same man bruce considers as his father figure. but at the same time it should've been him that you call your father, it should've been bruce you look at for help and guidance, it should've been him that lulls you back to sleep, wiping the tears that run down your face.

it breaks his heart even further once he discovers all the little trinkets that you make for alfred, all the inside jokes you two share, the gifts you cherish in your cabinets from the apartment you used to live in; they were all from alfred— bruce wants to kick himself realizing that he never made an effort to gift you anything in your 15 years of living in the manor as a ghost.

bruce swears on his life that he'll make it up to you, that despite him being unable to stay the night frequently with you that he'll make it up during the day. he'll take you to business meetings, to arcades, to malls; literally anywhere to get you to bond with him as much as you did alfred.

he'll schedule holidays where the entire family is required to join and you'll be the center of attention. your birthdays will be extravagant, he would spend millions to make a show that you're his favorite child; that means he'll spoil you with gifts that pertain to your hobbies. and because your family loves you so much, please do expect a minimum of 10 gifts prepared by all your siblings and a credit card with no limit for bruce.

oh? you don't need material things? don't worry, you'll be surprised with just how meticulously your father would plan for vacations. any place you would choose would be taken into heavy consideration, even planning with him would feel like some sort of father-child bonding.

but really, he'll commit all his time and effort for you.

bruce would do everything to make you consider him as your dad.