#we're still taking submissions but!!!!!

[fisheito]

@trainto1925 coincidentally i have just arrived

The soft ones ARE choosing violence 🥰

[svtskneecaps]

friends and fiends if this truly spells the Over for the qsmp i may let the brainworms that have been festering in me for MONTHS--A YEAR, EVEN--win.

i may summarize the goddamn fucking lore.

[usagimen]

idk where I'm going with this but this little tidbit did make me think of the unpredictably of Sayuri's punches. in professional fighting, south paws (left hand) are seen as wildcards because it comes quick, sudden, fast enough that the opposing fighter cannot tell. which makes her being ambidextrous even more lethal, no one really knows from which hand she will strike, this does not take into account her usage of kickboxing / grappling as well. thus, a great reminder, her subhuman strength was uniquely honed entirely by herself with the usage of cursed energy && throughout physical training. she does qualify as naturally talented fighter, this is without the kobayashi's influence, that only grants her a skillset uniquely trained for assassination. yes, sayuri is a special grade primarily for tsukuyomi though, her strength could have easily capitulated her into another category, along with her mental constitution which many fighters attribute to being stronger than the body.

[intoanotherworld23]

His Delicate Flower Of Rome

Summary: when Lucius found out you were Marcus Acacius’s daughter he knew he had to have you, and when the opportunity was right he wasn’t holding back

Warnings: explicit content, mature themes, smut, unprotected sex, slightly dom Lucius, submissive reader, smidge of spanking

A/N: hello my lovelies! I was genuinely surprised that there isn’t more fics of Paul or Lucius out there so I wanted to write something for him, and hope everyone likes it and share your thoughts on if I should keep writing for him! If you wish to be added to a tag list please let me know! Or if you have any requests do not hesitate to submit it to my inbox! Don’t forget to reblog and comment! Thank you! XOXO

Hall Of Hunks

Tag list for everything: @iam-laiya @rosie-posie08 @madzleigh01 @alwaysclassyeagle @mytbel0st @shanimallina87 @marvelstarker-mha98 @powellssugarbaby @lora21 @kmc1989

"That's it flower, that's a good woman." Soft praises echoing in your ear as you sank down on Lucius's erect length. His calloused hands caressing your skin so tenderly. "Are you feeling all of me?"

"Mhm." Struggling to find the right words as you concentrated more on adjusting around his cock. Twisting your face in an unusual manner he couldn't resist as he leaned forward to place light kisses on your heated cheeks and temple.

"Do the gods hold your tongue? Can you not speak?" Keeping his voice deep and low as his words teased you.

"Lucius please." Whimpering pathetically as you continued to grind your hips back and forth. Lucius chuckling at how eager and desperate you were for him.

"Do you enjoy fucking gladiators? Does that moisten your thighs? Does your father know what a whore you are?" He taunted you as you bit your bottom lip realizing that his words held more truth than you wanted. Soon as Lucius found out you were Marcus Acacius's daughter he wasted no time in seducing you. "I've been longing to feel this cunt around me for too long."

He loved the feeling of your skin touching his. The way your body had molded into his so perfectly. A fierce bloodthirsty champion of the arena was holding you like a delicate flower. Lucius was enjoying this way more than he intended, and was already planning on never letting you go.

"Gods you are tight." Large hands holding the fat flesh of your thighs his thumb stroking your skin soothingly. Feeling so warm and incredibly deep. "You have not been fucked the way you should be."

Nodding your head in agreement unable to speak as you wrapped your hands around his thick neck. Beginning to tremble as you moved your legs to raise yourself better. Lucious guiding your hips now as he looked down to where you two were connected.

"Take it easy I wouldn't want you to hurt yourself." Noticing how aggressively you were bouncing on his cock. Even as his hands swatted your backside in warning you still continued to ignore him. So lost in the clouds you didn't want to come down.

"I can do it Lucius." Assuring him with such innocent eyes he couldn't help but smirk at how badly you wanted this. "Gods you are so big."

"Fuck." He grunts before pulling your body on top of his as he laid along the bed. He was surprised how soft it was considering he had been sleeping on stone for so long.

Gasping as he lifted his knees and started to pound into your cunt with absolutely no mercy giving you exactly what you wanted. His lips warm and desperate as they peppered kisses along your neck and shoulder. His hands keeping a firm grip on your ass using it as leverage.

"Oh gods." Crying out as he growled in your ear with such animosity it had a shiver running down your spine.

"The gods will never make you feel like this." Hissing into your ear and in just mere seconds tears are glistening in your eyes with such intensity. "Only my cock can bring you to such pleasure."

"Yes, my champion." We're all the words Lucius needed to hear before he suddenly flipped you on your back his cock never slipping from inside you. Grabbing your legs and placing them on his shoulders, as he got right back into the same rhythm.

Drilling into your sweet spot as he leaned forward slightly his face right above yours. Lucius was oozing with confidence in everything that he did. Whether it was in the colosseum or the bedroom. Bit surprised that a man like him would want anything to do with the generals daughter.

"I'm close." Informing him as your body started to shake a fire igniting in the pit of your stomach. Head tossed back in complete ecstasy as you couldn't hold back anymore.

"Let go I am right here." Cooing into your ear like he was revealing his secrets. His deep and seductive tone was sending you right over the edge.

"Oh gods." Crying out as your orgasm was swiftly approaching still sensitive from your previous release by his tongue. Lucius looking down at your remarkable expression unable to look anywhere else. Loving that he was the one in control, and held all this power in your pleasure. It made him feel like a god.

Your senses were extremely heightened, and feeling overwhelmed and vulnerable. Not sure how much longer you could hold on. Lucius could sense this, and he knew what would help relieve you.

"Let me see those beautiful eyes." He instructed to which you immediately followed not seeing that he was reaching a hand down between your bodies to your puffy clit. Rubbing rapid circles making you scream hands scratching along his back surely leaving marks.

Your ribcage rising and falling with each quick breath. Hands falling down to your side feeling loose and numb. Stomach trembling from the resounding orgasm you just experienced. Your battered cunt was so sore from being stretched and abused. Feeling his hands gently caressing your trembling thighs as he stayed still inside of you.

“The gods have surely blessed me on this night.” Speaking trying to catch his breath as he smiled down at you.

“Seems the gods bless you every night.” Moving from underneath him his cock slipping out as he laid next to you. The only sound you could hear was the water fountain outside of your room, and the crackles from the fireplace. Expecting Lucius to gather himself, and never speak to you again.

“Take comfort in my arms, and I will hold you while you sleep.” Pulling your body against his before you could say anything. The unexpected gesture made you feel something that you’ve never felt before. “Sleep my delicate flower.”

[illou-sainte]

Play your gun right!

pairings: colonel!caleb x reader

cw: gunplay, overstimulation, bdsm, sub!reader, dom!Caleb, slight power imbalance, crying, licking of gun, overall nasty Colonel!Caleb.

Cries and whimpers filled the office of Caleb.

Here you are,-- tied against his chair, legs apart. You look helpless, tears streaming down your face, your cheeks flustered.

You can't tell how many times, Caleb made you cum.

The fabric of the chair absorbs your juices-- leaving a hot mess, like yourself. You were already overstimulated, panting so heavily as you tried to catch your breath.

Every touch he makes to your body-- makes your legs tremble and twitch.

Your wet bare pussy in display in front of the Colonel. Caleb can't help but adore the blissful sight of you-- submissive and craving for his touch.

Be inside of you. Your eyes pleading him to fuck you dumb at this point.

"What a mess" He clicks his tongue, shaking his head in amusement. You can't help but feel embarrassed-- you didn't expect your reunion with him would end up like this.

Caleb smiled at you, leaning his body close to yours. Holding his gun as he pressed the muzzle against your hardened clit-- making you squirm, your body reacting to it, twitching and legs trembling.

"With just the touch of my gun and you're already a pitiful mess, sweetie" He whispered against your ear-- feeling his hot breath against your skin, making you hitch in response.

"c-can't take i-it...'nymore-!" You cried out-- your eyes widened when you felt the muzzle of his gun rub circles against your hardened clit. Tears stream down your cheeks, as your legs tremble. Moaning his name over and over again with that sweet voice of yours-- shit.. you're thankful his office is soundproof.

Caleb leaves a wet kiss on your neck as he leans his body back, his face closer to you now-- as he smiles. His other hand reaches up to caress your face, brushing your tears with his thumb.

"You're going to take it all, like a good girl" He said-- voice low and husky. Watching him remove his hand from your face and reach out for his Colonel hat.

Putting the hat over your head as it tilts to the side, you purse your lips as you look at him-- oh honey, don't look at him with those eyes of yours. He might fuck you dumb with no hesitation.

You were already seeing stars-- having a hazy feeling as you stare at the male in front. Your growing arousal still seeps to your plush wet pussy displayed.

He pulls the gun away from your clit-- the muzzle, wet with your juices. Holding the gun close to his lips, as he licked the muzzle-- shamelessly. His hot tongue against it as he maintains eye contact with you-- looking at him with your widened eyes.

"We're just getting started."

masterlist

[gossippool]

hi welcome back to leanne rewatches deadpool & wolverine and goes insane about every single detail in this movie. in this edition: how logan's clothes reflect the trajectory of his character

1. the suit—inside

so we start off with the scene in the bar where logan appears to be wearing what we're used to seeing him wear. flannels, leather jackets. his outfit and even the setting is not at all unfamiliar for him. but, as we later find out, he was wearing the suit underneath all those layers the whole time.

during his talk with laura, he reveals that he wears the suit to remember those he'd lost, and as a reminder of what he'd done. he's had the suit on permanently for god knows how long, hidden under his clothes. at this point he bears the suit like a cross, suffering in silence under the guise of normalcy, yet sacrificing what's left of his identity by reducing himself to what the suit represents; by taking all the jabs and nasty looks people throw at him that he thinks he's too deserving of to combat.

2. the suit—outside

after wade pulls him out, he has the suit on display for quite a while. on one hand, it shows the fight that's in him now as a contrast to his passivity in his own world. on the other hand, it's also a sort of vulnerability: what that suit stands for and by extension what he himself is is now laid bare to the world. out in the open for people to question. maybe that fight that's in him now stems precisely from this vulnerability.

this vulnerability is both good and bad for him: it causes him to lash out at the questions from wade that he's not ready to answer. it also leads him to open up to laura and finally speak about what happened—who knows if he's ever said any of it out loud before. fun! even with just the suit, we're already seeing some development.

and THIS is where it gets interesting.

3. the white shirt—his mind

the first time we truly see him without the suit is when cassandra nova looks into his mind. i've been going back and forth on whether this is logan's own manifestation of himself or if it's cassandra's, and i still don't know. i think the distinction does matter, but in the end what it conveys is the same.

firstly, another layer of vulnerability again. he's already on his knees for cassandra, submissive—now in his mind he's also stripped as bare as he can be (i think we all know white shirts can sometimes leave little to the imagination). cassandra looks at him and says "you're hiding ... from all the ones you let down." how interesting is that?? if we go all the way back to the first scene, he hides his suit under normal clothes. and he hides this version of him in his mind even further underneath all of that.

secondly and as an extension of that point, white symbolises purity. cleanliness. even a promise of new beginnings. let's tackle this from the two possible perspectives.

if this is logan's manifestation of himself, it would be so intriguing that this is how he appears. maybe it means that despite it all, there's some good in him. maybe it means that deep, deep down, past all the shame and the guilt and the grief, there's still a part of his mind where he can just be.

on the other hand, the white could also symbolise a second chance—like i said, a promise of new beginnings. i made a post about this scene here, but the basic point is that cassandra is offering him something that no one else may ever be able to offer him. a chance to fully be himself, to silence the voices. the white is such a stunning visual representation of what she is saying logan could be if he stays with her. which makes it even more poignant that he doesn't.

4. the time ripper

after this scene, he's in the suit again, necessarily. but then! BUT THEN!!!!! the time ripper!!! y'all need to understand the significance of this scene in all its nuances FR! here you can look at his abs again:

but the thing is we know by now what the suit represents. all his failures, all his guilt, his inability to let go of his past. it represents him. isn't it just so fitting that it's at this point where he saves the fucking world that the suit breaks away. it breaks away from him. he's free. this not the same as him just taking it off, because with it breaking into pieces he literally cannot wear it anymore. this is not just a hugh jackman body appreciation, this is logan finally moving on. this is him realising that he is not a failure, that he is not his failures, that he has something else to live for.

5. him

and oh my god, we finally make it to the extremely satisfying ending. after all of that, we finally come full circle. he's in his normal clothes again, the wife beater and the flannel, except this time without anything underneath. he's no longer defined by that one incident, defined by his mistakes and the people he let down. he is just him.

[yanderemommabean]

Aw man you KNOW we're gonna have Choso after us

There wouldn't be any way to escape! The way he'd easily take out hoards of people if they dared to get in his way, especially on a day as ceremonious and special as this!

Your bouquet would be pink and red roses, the envelope a matte or pastel purple, and the letter would simply state that he doesn't want to hurt you, but he can't sit watch as you keep escaping his grasp and his love.

You'd be tied with your legs spread, easy room for his form to slide between, so he can busy his mouth for as long as he pleases. While it might seem submissive to some, to you, its a clear statement-

He's in control, and He'll make sure you feel everything he has to give.

God, I bet he's such a pervert too, would smear his load over your hole and tell you how badly he wants to cover your body in it, how much he wants to fill you up and wring you dry.

Gives oral for HIS enjoyment. You can try to kick, scream, shake and babble all you want, his arms are locking tighter around you, pulling you closer, and holding you still. All you can do is sit there and take it, just the way he likes it.

He'd be messy with it too, unashamed as he lets your mess run down his lips and face, looking like a big cat licking blood off it's chops when he lets his tongue lap it up.

He'd chuckle when you swear up and down you can't climax anymore. That's so silly! he's watched you for a long time...He knows exactly what it takes to break that body, and that mind of yours.

Would absolutely wear a cock ring (and show off his pierced dick, you know, ribbed for your pleasure with a Jacobs Ladder) just to keep himself as a tool to get you to cum again and again and again, wanting to truly ruin your body with how well he pleasures you.

It's a good thing he doesn't even need the Red Rooms services. He's going to be doing this to you for much longer than that place allows.

-Mommabean

[quimichi]

≡;- ꒰ ° Sick fuck... ꒱

TW: NSFW - MDNI, name calling, slight cnc, yeah thats it???

character: Nam-gyu x F!Reader

summary: You pressed 'x' now you'll face the consequences of your actions

word count: 4.724

a/n: look, for some reason, he was my fav, idk why, idk how, its how it is ok???? I can't take myself seriously lol. I rarely write smut, I'm probably HORRIBLE at it, but we need the content for him ok??

Nam-gyu dragged you into the female bathroom, slamming and locking the door behind him. You try to free yourself from his grasp, but there's no use. "Hey-! HEY-!! For fucks sake guards-! If you don't do shit, why are you even here-!" you keep yelling as he struggles to shove you into a stall.

He shoved you against the cold wall of the stall, pinning your wrists above your head with one large hand. Leaning in close, his black eyes flashed with anger and lust as he growled, "Listen up, you little cock-tease. Next time we vote, yeah? You'll press 'O", understood?" His other hand groped and squeezed your breast roughly through your shirt. "Mmm, but maybe this is what you wanted all along, huh? To get me all worked up and desperate for your tight little body?"

He crashed his lips against yours in a brutal, kiss, biting and sucking on your bottom lip hard enough to make it throb. "Strip," he commanded coldly, releasing your wrists only to start tearing your clothes off yourself. "Now! Before I rip them off and fuck you on this filthy floor." With one quick motion, you slap him across his face. "Fuck you-! I don't even fuckinh know you, so what do you want from me?! I pressed 'X', and?! We keep playing the fucking game anyway!" you shout at him. Nam-gyus eyes flashed with rage as you slapped him hard across the face. The sharp sting of your palm against his cheek made him see red. He grabbed your wrist in a vice-like grip, twisting your arm behind your back and shoving you face-first against the grimy bathroom wall. His body pressed firmly against yours, pinning you in place as he leaned down to growl menacingly in your ear.

"Listen here, you fucking slut," he snarled, his hot breath tickling your neck. "I know for a damn fact the longer we play, the more people wanna press fucking 'x'. And I wanna keep going, so after the next round, the next vote, you'll press 'o'. If you don't, I'll make sure I kill you, and not a fucking game." His rough hands immediately found their way to your tits, groping and kneading the soft flesh harshly as he grinded his hardening bulge against your ass.

"I'll fucking ruin you," Nam-gyu hissed venomously, giving your nipple a sharp twist through the thin lace of your bra. "Scream for help and see if anyone gives a shit. They all probably jerk off to ya. Now, are you going to be a good girl and do as you're told, or do I need to get rougher?" "No-!" you stutter out, "you got your point across-!" You're 90% sure you'll die in the games anyway, after seeing the first you knew you wouldn't survive. Better play along now, than suffer even further with whatever he has planned. If you're lucky, he just did all that to scare you off...at least you hoped so. Playing tough wasn't so easy....

Nam-gyus grip on your wrist loosened slightly as he sensed your submission. He kept you pinned against the wall, his hips still pressed firmly to yours as he leaned in close, his voice a low, threatening rumble.

"Damn right I got my point across, baby," he growled, his lips brushing against your ear. "As a reward, we're keeping you save next game, hm? How's that sound?" He slid a hand down to your ass, squeezing the flesh roughly as he grinded his now fully erect cock against your backside. "Now, since you've been a bad girl, I think you deserve to be punished. Lucky you! You'll get both, a reward and a punishment. Aren't I nice?"

Nam-guys other hand slid under the hem of your pants, pulling them down. "Cute, did you know this was my favorite color on you, hm?" he teased, hot breath tickling your ear as he rubbed your clit through the fabric of your panties.

"Sick fuck..." you mumble, more to yourself than for him to actually hear it. Nam-gyu smirked cruelly as he heard your mumbled insult, clearly amused by your feeble attempt at defiance. "Yeah, I'm a sick fuck, but I'm YOUR sick fuck," he taunted, punctuating his words by shoving two thick fingers knuckle-deep into your dripping cunt.

"But you aren't a healthy minded bitch either, look at how wet you are." he chuckled darkly. He pumped his fingers in and out of you roughly, curling them to rub your walls with each thrust. You try to swallow down moans and gasps, but you can't. It feels too good and for some reason...you even enjoy it. He quickly turned you around, shoving your back against the wall. His thumb found your clit and rubbed the sensitive nub hard, making your legs tremble and your pussy clench around his digits.

"Listen to this desperate cunt sucking on my fingers like they're my cock," Nam-gyu laughed mockingly. "You can't get enough, can you? Don't worry, I'm going to give this pussy exactly what it needs."

Having fun never hurt anyone, right? After all, you're a sick fuck too...

[woso-dreamzzz]

Icy III

Mapi León x Ingrid Engen x Teen!Reader

Summary: He watches your match

He sits up in the box with Laporta, stretched out on the foldout chair like it's his personal throne.

He's wearing a new suit, freshly ironed and tailored to fit his body perfectly. His hair has been cut and styled to give that almost effortless look about him.

"Trust fund, I reckon," Patri says from your warm up circle," That guy that's up there with Laporta."

"No way," Pina disagrees," That's new money, not old. Probably a hedge fun manager."

"Or some kind of oil and gas giant," Mapi laughs.

"None," You say," Real estate at first then tech and then big pharma over in the states."

"What made you guess that?" Mapi asks and you stubbornly kick the ball away.

"I didn't. Laporta's not going to get money out of him anyway. The wife is the one that invests in sports but only ones she gets good profits out of. Two NFL teams, a Formula One team. She owns a tennis stadium in Paris. Big investor in the Olympics."

"Oh come on," Patri complains," There's no way you just know that off the top of your head."

"It doesn't matter. If Laporta wants money he should talk to the wife."

You can feel his gaze on you throughout the match.

It's a team at the bottom of the table and you're so technical that they can't get close but you can still feel the weight of his stare on you at all times.

'You carry the weight of our family'.

He's told you that many times.

'If you cannot exceed expectations then we have no use for you'.

He's told you that too, something you remember as you cross the ball into Pina, who taps it in easily.

You celebrate together, hugging and you feel Ingrid's familiar presence behind you as she gives you her customary kiss on the head.

You look up at him in the crowd, just out of reflex but you can't see much.

He's still splayed out like he's a king on a throne, looking down at you like you're a peasant in the street, fighting with someone else for just a scrap of bread.

That's his idea of entertainment, like holding up a magnifying glass towards an ant hill in the middle of a sunny day.

You feel small under his gaze, dipping your head in submission as you walk back into your position.

You assist in the next three goals.

Alexia.

Aitana.

Even Keira.

You're good at that. You've perfected the art of assisting.

Mapi's even joked before that you're going for the record of assists from one person this season.

Alexia says she's going to make you be more selfish and shoot more but you don't think you really need to do that, not when Caro can do it instead of you.

This is one of the rare matches where Caro's being rotated so gets no minutes. You fill her place though, like you always do, setting up goals and carrying the ball down the wing.

Barcelona win, of course, and you drift back to Ingrid and Mapi like you normally do.

Mapi grins at you, arm thrown over your shoulder and a frown on her face as you go rigid under her.

Laporta is on the pitch with him, stuttering over his words and hurrying to keep up.

He stops in front of you.

"Y/n."

Your head drops automatically, thoroughly chastised as you step out from under Mapi's arms.

His hand clamps down on your shoulder and you can tell how this is going to go before he even opens his mouth.

"Of course we're very proud of her," His honeyed tone tells Laporta," We've wanted nothing but the best for her."

For them, you correct in your head.

"She's always had such a passion for football. We love watching her play."

He's never seen you play in his life.

"We-We're very happy to have her here!" Laporta tells him," She's a real talent. You're produced quite the footballer."

He laughs, waving away the compliments as his hand feels like a shackle around you. "You're too kind. Sports has never quite been my thing. I'll have to talk to the wife about what we were talking about, I'm sure you'll understand."

"Of course! Of course! Take all the time you need!"

He will. You know he will.

He'll discuss with her and they'll write up a contract if it's really something they're interested, about what they pay in and what they get out of it.

She's always been better at the sports side of it, despite her background in real estate. She knows how to talk people around in circles. How to get through the little boy's club that every sport has. She'll get what she wants if Barcelona is even something she's interested in.

You hope it isn't.

"I'll leave you alone with your daughter," Laporta says and you want to call after him.

You want to tell him not to leave with your father.

Barcelona was supposed to be yours. You were supposed to be safe here.

You can't control when they summon you in Norway but if you're in Barcelona, they're not supposed to be able to get to you. You're not meant to be subject to their whims in Barcelona.

You want to go home. You want to go home with Mapi and Ingrid and curl up in your bed with Toast and not move for a week.

His casual hand on your shoulder grows heavy in an instant, nails digging in to your skin through your shirt and you have to keep the smile on your face to keep up appearances for the cameras you know are on you.

His lips graze your ear as he whispers to you," If you ever blindside me like this again then I promise you won't like what happens next."

"Sorry, Father," You say back.

"You better be. I didn't like sitting up there with potential business partners to see my own daughter down there like a football hooligan."

"Sorry."

"I'm better than that and I raised you to be better than that too."

You resist the urge to tell him that he didn't raise you at all.

Your wrist twinges, the phantom injury flaring up like it always did when you're nervous.

You throat bobs, already closing up as you fight back tears.

"I'm sorry."

"Apologies mean nothing." His voice is harsh in your ear and you find a point ahead of you to stare at so you don't cry.

If there's something that he hates more than apologies, it's tears so you stubbornly don't let even one fall.

"Who's this, y/n?" Ingrid asks, clearing her throat and you flick your eyes to her.

"My-"

Your father says his name, sticking his hand out and he's back to playing the role of proud father. "And you are?"

"Ingrid Engen. I play with y/n on the Norwegian team too."

"Ah! Yes. I think she's mentioned you before!" He's lying.

He didn't even know you played on the national team.

"And I'm Mapi. She lives with me and Ingrid."

"I can't thank you enough," Your father says," She can be quite a handful sometimes." He laughs but no one laughs with him.

"I think she's delightful," Ingrid says," Very helpful. Very studious. She's the best in her class."

The smile on his face is real now, like it always is when he hears about your academics.

He started in real estate and then moved to investing in technology and pharmaceuticals. He and your mother are scarily intelligent and it might be the only thing they passed onto you.

"We expect nothing less of her," He says," I'm sure everyone at the party will be glad to hear it."

Your breath stutters in your chest. "The party?"

"Yes! The party! I must have forgotten to tell you! We're having a little get together with a few potential business partners. We'll have to get you a dress."

"I don't need to go."

"Don't be silly!" His hand tightens on your shoulder and you know that this isn't a discussion. "There's some people I should introduce you too."

Your head drops again, the fight leaving your body.

"Do you want us to go?" Ingrid asks, ever polite though you feel like without her and Mapi there you won't survive. "So you two can have dinner?"

Your father is laughing again, finally releasing you and you take several quick steps to duck behind Mapi.

"I've got a flight to catch. Meetings to get to. Far more important things."

He can't see you anymore, not with your head bowed and pressed against Mapi's back and you finally let the tears fall.

Ingrid watches your father leave, down the tunnel and escorted to the player's exit by the staff that seem to be falling over themselves to make him happy.

"Y/n," She says, coaxing you out from your hiding spot," Oh, sweetheart...Are you okay?"

You look at her, bottom lip trembling as the tears run down your cheeks.

"Ingrid," You say, sounding small and wounded like an animal," I want to go home."

Ingrid nods as Mapi tucks you under her arm.

"Let's go home."

[harunayuuka2060]

Mr. Scarletella: *in a sexy lingerie, waiting in bed with a submissive demeanor for MC*

MC: ...

MC: Fuck. I just got off from work, and I'm really exhausted.

Mr. Scarletella: *seeing that they remain frozen* *sad frowns*

Mr. Scarletella: You... not like?...

MC: No, it's not that. You look great. But who put you up to this?

Mr. Scarletella: Me... saw TV...

Mr. Scarletella: Me... you feel... excited...

MC: I see.

MC: So he thinks we're still in the honeymoon phase. Can't blame him for that.

MC: I'll just take a quick shower and get back to you.

Mr. Scarletella: ...

MC: ...

Mr. Scarletella: *appeared in the shower room*

MC: ...

MC: I said I would be quick.

Mr. Scarletella: Me... can't wait...

Mr. Scarletella: Me want... do this...

MC: ...

Mr. Scarletella: ...

MC: ...

MC: Just keep your voice down. We don't want to startle the neighbors.

Mr. Scarletella: *brightens up*

MC: *their boss on the phone* Yes. Sorry. Thank you for understanding.

MC: I'll make sure to finish it the next day. I'm sorry again. *hangs up*

MC: *puts their phone aside*

Mr. Scarletella: You... sore?...

Mr. Scarletella: Me... you... massage?...

MC: ...

MC: *looking at his mischievous smile*

MC: Yeah, right.

[12daysofchristmas]

Join us in the 2024 12 Days of Christmas Challenge as we hope to spread a little ✨holiday joy and cheer✨ through the magic of writing fanfiction & creating art!

About & Rules

The challenge will run from December 13-24, 2024.

The challenge is open to any and all fandoms.

Submissions must include at least one of the prompts for that day but can combine two, three, or all four.

Prompts for the day always include: a word/words, a scenario, a quote, a "famous" quote (taken from songs and movies)

Tag your submissions with #12daysofchristmas2024 and/or mention this blog so that we will be notified to reblog your submissions here. (Also, it would be super cool if you gave this blog a follow!)

Submissions for the day must be posted before midnight YOUR time. We're not super hard-and-fast about this rule, but posting within time is very much appreciated! 

If you’re posting your submission directly on Tumblr (as opposed to linking to an external site such as AO3), you MUST use a “keep reading” cut!

Edit: We're now also allowing ALL KINDS OF ART: drawings, edits, aesthetics, mood boards, videos, podfics, fiber arts... go wild!

!! Absolutely NO AI creations !!

Please format ALL submissions with the following heading:

Title Day/Prompt(s) Fandom/Character(s)/Ship Warnings (if applicable): Word Count/Medium (in case it's art):  Example: Santa, Baby Day 8 - “Prompt(s) for that day” AEW - Adam Page x OC Warnings: Alcohol, cursing, sexual situations (explicit) Word Count: 7,290 or: Medium: fan video

You can also include a summary, gif, edit, whatever you want! Just don’t forget the “keep reading” if you’re posting directly on Tumblr!

If you're posting on AO3, here's our collection: 12 Days of Christmas Collection

2024 Prompts

Day 1 ❄️ First snow ❄️ Getting soaked ❄️ “Your hands are so cold.” ❄️ “I suppose it all started with the snow.” —Frosty the Snowman

Day 2 ❄️ Little lie ❄️ Trapped together in a snowstorm ❄️ “I thought you knew where you were going?!” ❄️ “I don’t know what to say, but it’s Christmas, and we’re all in misery.” —National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation

Day 3 ❄️ Accelerated heartbeat ❄️ Kissing in the snow ❄️ “Here, take my coat.” ❄️ “Let's hope the snow will make this Christmas right.” —Queen

Day 4 ❄️ Mulled wine ❄️ Playing board games ❄️ “I have no regrets.” ❄️ “Cheer up, dude. It's Christmas.” —How the Grinch Stole Christmas, 2000

Day 5 ❄️ Cookies ❄️ Holiday-themed contest ❄️ “That definitely looks… interesting?” ❄️ “That is exactly why you want a high-quality fire extinguisher right in the kitchen.” —The Santa Clause

Day 6 ❄️ Present ❄️ Making a new Christmas tradition ❄️ “Not another Christmas movie!” ❄️ “You say you hate Washington’s birthday or Thanksgiving, and nobody cares, but you say you hate Christmas, and people treat you like you’re a leper.” —Gremlins

Day 7 ❄️ Decorations ❄️ A little accident ❄️ “I was just trying to help!” ❄️ “I want my house to be seen from space.” —Deck The Halls

Day 8 ❄️ Touch starved ❄️ Telling secrets around the fire ❄️ “Sometimes the hardest part is forgiving yourself.” ❄️ “Santa, can't you hear me?” —Ariana Grande & Kelly Clarkson

Day 9 ❄️ Christmas fair/market ❄️ Late shopping (together) ❄️ “Hmm, this is actually not bad.” ❄️ “When you're still waiting for the snow to fall, doesn't really feel like Christmas at all.” —Coldplay

Day 10 ❄️ Surprise visit ❄️ Lighting scented candles ❄️ “I didn’t know you were here.” ❄️ “You’re skipping Christmas! Isn’t that against the law?” —Christmas with the Kranks

Day 11 ❄️ Fairy lights ❄️ Christmas party/ball ❄️ “I never want this night to end.” ❄️ “I won’t even wish for snow. And I’m just gonna keep on waiting, underneath the mistletoe.” —Mariah Carey

Day 12 ❄️ Feast ❄️ Indoor picnic by the tree/fireplace ❄️ ���I baked your favourite cookie/pie/cake.” ❄️ “You are all I need tonight underneath the Christmas lights.” —Sia

Extra Challenge

Angst or fluff, romance or platonic - you're unsure in what direction your fic should go? Spin our

Wheel

and let it decide for you! You can spin it once and write all fics with what comes up, you can spin it daily and change course accordingly, you can spin it as often as you need or not at all - it's all up to you.

Please don’t hesitate to contact us with any questions! Also, feel free to share this post and help spread the joy and cheer!

Happy writing, and good luck 🍀

[dduane]

Aspiring-pro-writer question on behalf of my Beloved: would publishing a novel online make it impossible to get it traditionally published later?

They think the book has merit (so do I) and would enjoy the, motivation boosts that come with people reading the "serialisation", but aren't willing to sacrifice a potential Actual Publisher Deal.

For a good while the "received wisdom" was that self-publishing would kill your book's chances with traditional publishers. Fortunately, this has since proven to be false. This article pulls together a number of the best-known stories in which the author self-pubbed a given work first and then had it picked up by traditional publishers later... sometimes for seriously large amounts of money.

If I wasn't yet published, in the market we're in today, and had a book I wanted to get out there, I honestly wouldn't wait. Traditional publishers are under incredible pressure—too many submissions chasing too few publishing slots, and too few editors in-house any more to do the work of getting a book into print—and it's increasingly difficult to get a tradpub house to publish you without an agent (and sometimes, even with one.) So I'd almost certainly choose to self-publish. ...But I'd take advice first on what the best way to market a first-time work, especially one in my chosen genre, might be. Simply having written something terrific, and publishing it, isn't enough. You've got to find a way to get the word out about it to people who can help the information about it spread.

Working out a marketing plan means a lot of homework and strategizing. And inevitably there's going to have to be some monetary investment in advertising and/or other kinds of publicity (newsletters, blog tours, etc etc). Everybody who approaches this situation winds up having to determine how much money is okay to spend on such a project, and how much is too much. No two answers to the question are going to be alike. But then again, no two authors are alike... and no two books.

And one note more. I take the point about wanting the motivational boost that can accompany serialization. But not all books are suitable to be serialized. Some books, if you've got them complete in your hand, have an impetus that will impel a reader to finish that book right then and afterwards hurry off to rave about it to everybody they know. But if you chop one of those books in pieces and make people repeatedly interrupt that impetus...? It might still work. Or it might hamstring the impetus effect and leave the reader wondering, about halfway through, why they'd bothered. ...The issue's a difficult one, and there's no way to tell whether a given work can stand up to being delivered to the reader in chunks until it's too late. So my advice would be to think carefully about the prospect before trying to implement it.

Anyway: wish the Beloved the best from me... and I hope their journey is as trouble-free as possible. :)

[prettycalla]

|| venenum paradiso ||

Pairing: Geta/Empress!Reader

Summary: Geta has some very traditional views that are not to your tastes. You decide to put him in his place. (Request fill)

Word count: 4k

Tags and warnings: Smut (not explicitly described, but still obvious!), period-typical sexism, bickering, submissive Geta, no use of Y/N. 18+!! Minors, please do not interact!!

(I wrote a little blurb a while ago and decided to make it in a bigger fic. I had to scrap the original idea because I was getting way too into the lore, and let's be real, we're not here for that, we're here for Geta smut. Also read up a Lot on sexuality in Ancient Rome, and wow, did they have Opinions.)

Masterlist || Join the taglist!

Of all the men you have encountered in your life, your husband is perhaps one of the most frustrating at times.

It is not often that you argue, you are patient enough that you are willing to agree to disagree on many matters. But there are occasions when it feels as though you are on the brink of war with him.

He is stubborn, infuriatingly so, and there are times when it takes everything in your power to hold your tongue.

However, even you, diplomatic and gracious as you are, have your limits.

Geta holds certain views that are...traditional, to say the least. You are not of the same mindset.

It had started over a passing remark. A mere flight of fancy that you had had late one night, as you had laid together in bed. Of being brought to release by your husband's mouth. At worst, you assume he will think nothing of it.

How full of surprises he is.

He is rather quick to remark that he does not believe a man of his rank and status should subject himself to something so...unbecoming.

It is not so much his words, but the manner in which he says them. As if his archaic opinion is fact. How your blood boils. Then, an eerie feeling of calm washes over you. You hum in response, teeth clenched behind a tight smile.

Oh, you are most certainly at war now. And you, you will be the victor, you are certain of it.

He does not notice at first, as on the surface, you are treating him no differently than any other day.

Eventually, it starts to click into place. You will not stay long in his embrace, you shy away from his touch, you turn your head with a tight-lipped smile when he tries to kiss you.

“Wife,” he demands one night as you are readying yourself for bed. “You are angry with me. Why?”

You lay down your hairbrush on the table, turning to face him.

“Whatever has led you to that conclusion?” you ask in turn, in an unassuming tone.

“You have been treating me with disdain for the better part of two days now. I tire of it,” he tells you, with all the grace of a spoiled child.

“Surely you are imagining things,” you say airily.

“Do not insult me,” he spits.

You give him a look of feigned surprise. “As if I would ever do such a thing.”

“You will tell me what I have done,” he insists.

You brush past him on the way to bed, slipping under the covers.

“You will figure it out for yourself,” you reply. “Goodnight.”

You turn your back to him, leaving him to stand there and process your words. It is a while before he joins you. You feel his hand hover near you, but you ignore it under the pretence of sleep. Eventually, he moves away, and you cannot help the smile that creeps onto your face as he lets out an irritated sigh.

His mood only worsens from there. When you wake the next morning, he is already dressed for the day ahead.

"Did you sleep well?" you ask with a yawn.

Geta glares at you with tired eyes, but does not allow himself to fall prey to it, turning his attention to more pressing matters.

"I trust you remember that we are to attend a banquet tonight," he tells you. "I will have you by my side, as my loving wife."

You do not miss the warning that lingers in his words.

“Would you have me any other way?” you ask, the very picture of innocence.

He does not reply, instead reaching across the bed to kiss you before he leaves. You conveniently choose that moment to get up, leaving him to stumble and fall onto the bed as he misses you entirely.

The quiet snarl that escapes him is quite the reward, you must admit. Embarrassed, he storms out, leaving you alone to your morning routine. You smile to yourself. Perhaps you should not be enjoying this as much as you are, but he does make it so easy for you.

You do not see Geta again until early evening, as he is kept busy for much of the day with meetings with senators and patricians. When you arrive at the grand hall, he is already seated and deep in conversation. You cannot help but notice how decadently he is dressed, in robes of the richest reds and golds, adorned with the most beautiful jewellery, and golden laurels sit atop his fiery hair. It is far too much, even for an event such as this, and you bite back a smile. Geta only dresses in such a manner when he is upset. And judging by the look he has now levelled on you, he is furious.

He quickly schools his expression into something more fitting of a loving husband as you draw near, taking the fawning and flattery of the surrounding crowd in your stride as always.

"Wife," he murmurs, with a smile that is reminiscent of a shark.

He takes your hand in his, lifting it to his lips to press a kiss to the back of it.

Your attention wanders as he does so. He attempts to pull you towards him, but you do not budge.

"Come, you will sit by me," he says pleasantly.

You shake your head, slipping your hand from his tight grasp.

"Oh, no, I could not possibly interrupt your conversation," you reply, "Please, you must stay with the senator."

Geta opens his mouth to argue, but you have already turned away. Caracalla has been watching the entire scene unfold before him from across the table with rapt attention, and he grins at you.

"Gentlemen, if you will excuse me," you say politely, with an incline of your head.

You take the seat next to Caracalla, who in turn looks to his brother to find him seething. Never one for subtlety, Caracalla giggles loudly, turning his attention to you.

“My dear sister, whatever has your poor husband done now?” he asks, inelegantly swirling the wine around in his cup before taking a drink.

His voice carries far enough across the table for the guests to glance up curiously. Geta looks as though he wishes for nothing more than to throw himself across the table and strangle his brother.

You smile as you pat Caracalla’s arm in a good-natured manner.

“Now, now. Is it not enough for me to sit by you and enjoy your company?” you ask innocently.

His eyes are on you then, his gaze sharp and scrutinising. A wide smile slowly breaks out across his face.

“Of course,” he replies, almost giddily.

He leans in to you, his voice dropping low enough that only you can hear.

“What games you play,” he whispers slyly.

You laugh then, your eyes drifting to where Geta sits. To a mere bystander, he would look the very image of a man deeply engrossed in political conversation, but you know him better than anyone. He is clutching the cup in his hand with such ferocity that his knuckles are have lost all colour, and his jaw twitches from clenching so hard.

You are beginning to feel pity for him. But he must learn.

You are rather quickly distracted once again by Caracalla, who is making quite a spectacle of himself by reaching over people who are trying to eat to acquire food for Dondus. She is perched on his shoulders, her little hands clutching at his messy hair to balance herself.

He unceremoniously falls back into his seat, arranging his spoils in front of him. He lifts a grape up and Dondus greedily snatches it from him, pawing at it before she bites into it.

"Would you like to feed her?" he asks, holding out some walnuts.

"Of course," you reply, taking one and holding it out to the little monkey.

Dondus sniffs at it for a moment, not as familiar with your scent, before she takes it from you.

"What a sweet girl you are," you coo at her.

"Isn't she?" Caracalla agrees proudly, as he scratches under her chin.

The evening continues to pass as pleasantly in Caracalla's company. He regales you with stories, making you laugh until there are tears in your eyes. You have almost forgotten about your husband.

Almost.

As if on cue, Geta rises from his seat.

"Excuse me," he announces to the table. "I must withdraw for the evening. Please, stay and enjoy yourselves."

You watch him leave, his agitation evident in how he holds himself.

Caracalla tilts his head closer to you. "Do you think he has suffered enough?" he asks mischievously.

Not quite, you think to yourself.

It is another hour or so before you retire for the night as well. As you had suspected, Geta has returned to your chambers and is very much awake, pacing back and forth across the length of the room, as he has likely been doing since he returned.

"You finally grace me with your presence, Augusta," he says.

Beyond the public's prying eyes, he only ever calls you by your title when he is angry with you.

"I thought you would be asleep by the time I returned," you reply.

You cross the room to your vanity table, sitting down to begin your nightly routine. Geta drags the chair out to stand in front of you, demanding your attention. You look up at him. He is seething. You, by contrast, are quite unaffected.

"You seem to have forgotten your place," he says through gritted teeth.

He will not be ignored.

You tilt your head with a feigned look of confusion. "And where, exactly, is that?" you ask.

"Wherever I wish it to be," he replies. "If I want you by my side, you will be by my side."

He bends down, hands gripping the arms of the chair tightly as he looms over you. His expression is glowering, his intense eyes made all the more so by the flickering lantern light.

"If I command you, you will obey," he says lowly.

There is a side to Geta that will rear its ugly head when he has been slighted. It craves power and control, and will not rest until both are firmly in its clutches. In the beginning, it was persistent, constant, as he was terrified of allowing you to see him for who he truly is. With time and patience, you were finally able to tame the raging beast, to prove to him that you would not hurt him, that you loved him.

The beast is raging once more, but you are no longer frightened of it. You are more than equipped to put it back in its place.

You merely smile in response. He does not like that. He straightens then, drawing himself up to his full height. His stubborn petulance is almost endearing, if not growing a little tiresome.

“You will kneel for your Emperor,” he commands.

You cross your legs as you look up at him with a serene expression. Even with the advantage of height between the two of you, he looks like a little boy in the midst of a tantrum.

You feel powerful. It is intoxicating.

“If you wish something of me, husband,” you say, “you will ask nicely.”

Geta’s eye twitches at your words, biting the inside of his cheek in irritation.

“I will do no such thing,” he says at last.

“Oh, you will,” you reply, your voice light and airy, as if you are discussing something as mundane as the weather.

You stand up, not bothering to push the chair back, uncaring of the close proximity between the two of you. Your hands slide from the arms of the chair and up along his stomach, his chest - light, teasing - before they fall at your sides once more.

“Because I tire of this discussion, and I am quite certain you have had more than enough of this argument of ours."

You hold his gaze.

“Wouldn’t you agree?” you ask.

Geta laughs, but it is without a trace of humour.

"At last you admit it," he says. "You are angry with me."

You tap your finger to your chin, as if in contemplation.

"What was it that you called me? 'Unbecoming', was it?" you ask.

Geta blanches. Now he remembers, and too late he is.

“Wife-” he starts, but you shake your head to silence him.

“No, I quite understand," you say readily, as if you truly agree with him. "I can only imagine how unbecoming it would be, to have me in such a manner.”

You lean in closer to him, your breath ghosting along his ear. He shivers.

“Beneath you, undressed and unmade, entirely at your mercy and in the throes of pleasure,” you continue.

You let out a pitiful little sigh.

“How…vulgar,” you finish, pulling away from him.

Geta watches you carefully. For once, he is without words. He swallows thickly. His eyes dart to one side for the briefest moment before meeting your gaze once more.

“This is a fool’s errand,” he says through clenched teeth.

It would sound threatening, if the waver in his voice wasn't his undoing.

“Then I am a fool,” you reply simply. “But I am a fool of my convictions.”

You try to brush by him when his hand suddenly lashes out, grabbing your arm. You stop quickly in your tracks, your heart beating at a racing pace. You keep your expression as neutral as you can manage.

“Oh, by all means, you may command me again,” you murmur. “But the victory will not be as sweet, I assure you.”

You have him there. Gently, you pluck at his fingers. To your surprise, he lets go as easily as that. For a moment, you watch each other, as if neither of you can dare to look away. To show weakness. Time seems to slow.

Geta is the first to break.

“What do you want of me?” he asks.

You pretend to think about it for a moment, before fixing him with a determined stare.

“Kneel," you reply simply.

Geta’s eyes widen, his expression a mixture of exasperation and anger.

“How dare-“

“Kneel, or leave me,” you say, as if he had not spoken. “Those are your choices.”

He opens his mouth again, and you wait for the inevitable chastising for daring to suggest that an Emperor commit such a lowly act that was to come.

But it does not.

Without breaking away from your gaze, Geta slowly sinks to his knees in front of you.

Surely the Gods have called you to them earlier than planned. You were insistent on breaking his resolve, but you had no idea that he would actually listen to you.

You must be dreaming. And what a beautiful dream he makes. His dark eyes are fixed on you; small, shallow breaths falling from his trembling lips.

Truly, he is a sight to behold.

Slowly, you reach out a hand, your touch light as you hook your fingers under his chin.

“Good boy,” you murmur, and the shudder that runs through him at your words will surely stay with you until your last mortal breath.

"What would you have me do?" he asks in a whisper.

You do not answer. Instead you run your thumb gently across his chin, back and forth, back and forth. He is trembling under your touch, you realise with a smile to yourself.

"What was it that you would have had me do?" you ask in turn.

You lean in closer to him, your grip on his chin tightening ever so slightly.

"When you came here, and so crassly asked me to kneel for you," you continue. "What was it that you desired of me?"

You drag your fingertips along the column of Geta's throat. He swallows thickly, and you feel the sensation against your skin.

"I…" he begins to say.

His voice cracks, and he falters.

“I wished to have you as you have me now,” he says at last, his voice rough.

“Go on,” you insist. “What was I to do?”

His tongue darts out to wet his lip. Shame burns at his cheeks. How it amuses you to see him like this.

“Is it not enough that you have humiliated me-” he starts, his temper flaring up once more.

You press a finger to his lips, silencing him.

“I have done no such thing,” you reply. “I have held no sword to your throat, no poison to your lips. I am but a woman before a God.”

You move closer still, your lips dangerously close to brushing against his.

“Though I did not know that Gods could be broken so easily,” you whisper with a wide smile.

You feel him lean in and you quickly pull back. He loses his balance and his hands reach out, pressing against your thighs to steady himself. You step out of his range entirely and he falls on all fours with a snarl.

You are enjoying yourself far too much.

“Please, finish your tale,” you say as you sit down once more.

Geta clenches his fists, but does not move.

“I would…I would have had you undressed. On your knees and entirely at my mercy,” he spits.

“Quite the picture you paint,” you muse. “But I wonder…”

You reach forward, your hands plucking the delicate laurels from atop Geta’s head. You gently twirl them back and forth in your grasp, admiring the craftsmanship of each detail.

Geta looks as though he wishes to squeeze the life from you. He does not move.

Without breaking his gaze, you gently place the laurels on yourself.

“I wonder if it would be as pleasurable as you say,” you finish with a mischievous smile.

You crook your finger in a pedantic manner at him, beckoning him closer to you. To your surprise, he obeys, crawling the short distance between the two of you.

You run your hand gently through his hair. His eyes slip closed at your touch. You drag your hand down to the base of his neck, where your grip suddenly tightens and you wrench his head back. A sharp hiss escapes his throat, but he does not move to stop you.

"You will undress," you tell him. "And you will not keep me waiting."

Geta looks at you with wide eyes, as if wondering where you have been hiding this side of yourself. You are wondering that yourself.

You hold his gaze, looking down the length of your nose at him from where you sit. Unblinking, unwavering. Daring him to defy you. The very image of an Empress.

Geta moves to stand, and you shake your head.

"Surely you can manage from where you sit," you say airily. "I have been witness to you doing so in much worse states."

He starts slow, dropping each piece of jewellery to the floor with a loud clatter, in the hopes of irritating you. You, by contrast, are thoroughly enjoying yourself. Finally, he begins to remove his robes, leaving them in a scattered heap on the floor.

He looks up at you again, feigning an air of disinterest. It does not fool you. The flush that runs from his neck to his chest speaks volumes. You lean forward, running your hands from the curve of his hips up across his torso to his chest, your fingertips skirting just shy of the places he desperately wants you to touch.

"How long do you intend to shame me like this?" he demands of you.

His voice is strained, choked even. He has never looked more beautiful to you than he does now.

"My dear husband," you coo, "You act as though this is torture."

Geta glares at you, and you laugh, a soft breath of a sound.

"You will give me what I want," you tell him, leaning back in your chair. "And we will have no more of this silly argument."

He opens his mouth to speak, when his gaze drifts downwards, to where you have begun dragging your stola up along your legs. You part your thighs, unable to hide the smile on your face at the sight of Geta's mouth dropping open.

"Wife," he manages to whisper, his mouth dry.

"Yes?" you ask innocently. "Whatever is the matter, husband?"

Geta has entirely given up on trying to remain angry with you. You know that look on his face all too well. He is a starving man, and you, you are a banquet laid out for him to indulge in.

You hold out your hands to him, and he tentatively takes them, allowing you to pull him closer. You can feel him trembling against you.

"I will show you what to do," you tell him in a patronising tone. "But you are a quick study, I am certain you will not disappoint me."

You place your hands on his face, nails gently scratching at his skin. He shivers, a soft moan involuntarily escaping him.

"Do not keep me waiting," you warn with a roguish smile.

You presume he will drag things out further, continue to argue, dress himself and storm out in a rage - but he surprises you, rough hands pushing at your thighs to give you exactly what you want from him.

A sharp gasp escapes your lips at the feel of his tongue against you. He is frantic, messy, pathetically inexperienced in his movements. But oh, how filthy he feels against you.

You drag your hands through his hair, gripping hard as you press yourself closer to his mouth. He groans then, and the vibration of it has your eyes rolling back.

You have never felt pleasure quite like it. It vexes you that he has kept an experience such as this from you for so long. All because of something as pitiful as his pride.

As you had suspected, Geta is indeed quick to learn, and he finally finds a rhythm that soon leaves you shaking against him. It's so much, too much all at once, and you try to press your legs closed, but his hands hold firm against you, keeping you open and pliant for him. Gods, how you adore him like this. As wanting and hungry as he has left you.

"That's it," you tell him, a tremor in your voice as your nails scratch at his scalp. "Good boy."

Your words elicit another moan from his pretty throat, and the sound of it, his mouth, his tongue, his desperation, has you falling from the precipice you have been so precariously dangling from. Your climax hits you like a shockwave, leaving you trembling and breathless against him. Geta does not stop, not until you release your grip on him.

He slowly sits up, still kneeling between your legs as he looks up at you. He has the audacity to look pleased with himself, but it is you who has truly won. After all, you were finally able to wear your prideful husband down to seeing how ridiculous he has been, even if he will never admit it.

He runs his tongue across his lips in a crude attempt to clean himself up, his dark eyes almost black with desire. You let out a breathless laugh, allowing yourself to slump into your chair.

"Surely you have something to say to me, do you not?" you ask, propping your chin against your hand.

Geta briefly breaks your gaze, a heavy breath escaping him. This is torment for him, and you know it. Knowing how desperate he is for your touch in this very moment, and here you are, demanding that he tell you that you were right.

How you revel in it.

"Wife," he starts.

It is an attempt to warn you, but he is so choked up in his need for you that it falls flat.

"Husband," you reply with a lazy smile.

"What would you have me say?" he says, words all but catching in his throat as you lean forward to take him in hand, touching precisely where he needs you right now.

"Tell me that I was right," you reply, stroking him in the exact manner that has him arching into your touch.

"You were-" he begins, stumbles, "Gods-"

"Say it," you murmur, "And I will give you exactly what you desire."

"Please," he whispers desperately, placing a hand on your cheek. "Wife, I-"

"Say it," you hiss, your touch teetering just on the edge of too much.

"You were right," he gasps, "You were right, I was wrong, just please, please-"

Never have you seen him in such a state. He is mesmerising, his eyes glassy as he aches for release.

And who are you to deny him, when he begs so prettily?

"Such a good boy you are, Geta," you whisper in his ear, and just like that, the sound of his name falling from your lips in such a sultry tone has him falling apart, unravelling in your grasp.

Geta all but collapses into your arms, a trembling mess.

It takes him a moment to return to himself, shaky little breaths escaping him as you hold him. Eventually, he rights himself, looking up at you. All of his rage, his fury, all of it has been washed away. He kneels before you not as a merciless Emperor, but as a mortal, who has been thoroughly put in his place.

You lightly brush your nose against his, and a small smile tugs at the corners of his mouth.

"Well?" you ask. "Have you quite learned your lesson?"

Geta attempts to glare at you, but the fight has truly left him. He places his hands on your face, pressing a soft kiss to your mouth.

"Perhaps...I will reconsider my opinion on the matter," he replies, almost shyly.

It is difficult not to feel smug, you must admit.

After all, you have won.

(banners by @ cafekitsune)

[pretty-little-mind33]

Dave Lizewski x fem!reader

Summary: When Dave is hired by your dad to clean your pool during the summer, something you'd known for a long time becomes even more obvious

Genre: Fluff with a smidge of suggestive content 😏

Warnings: flirty!reader, submissive undertones!dave, shy!dave, dave and reader are eighteen, swearing, making out.

~ here you go my lovely @moonlightspencie 🫶💕~

DAVE LIZEWSKI MASTERLIST

You and Dave Lizewski aren't by any means close during the school year. You both live in completely different circles. You have your more popular friends and Dave has his small group of nerds. In all honesty, the only time you interact with him is when you occasionally take out the trash at the same time and see him from across the road.

He'll wave nervously and you'll smile to yourself. 

He really is cute. 

However, you weren't expecting to hear his voice as you're sunbathing by your pool on a sunny July afternoon.

You sit up instantly and push your sunglasses up on your head as you hear the small, "Yes, sir," Dave mutters as he holds the pool stick in one hand and listens to your dad explain how to clean the pool. 

"Ah, Y/n, this is David—Mr. Lizewski's son—he lives next door," your dad calls when he sees you, "He's cleaning our pool for a quick buck." 

He then turns to Dave and gestures to you, "This is my daughter, Y/n."

You smile and tilt your head as some water from your damp hair hits your shoulders. "I know, Dad. He knows. We're both seniors now," you say and sip from your lemonade, eyeing Dave.

"Hi, Dave," you say with a smile and the poor boy's cheeks turn crimson. 

Thank God you wore your sexy bikini. 

Your dad looks between you both, his hands on his hips, but he doesn't comment. "Alright, well, good meeting you Dave. I'll be inside if you have any questions," he says and once he's gone, Dave looks like a deer in headlights.

He's still standing by the pool, wearing embarrassingly colorful shorts and a white T-shirt. His brown curly hair is only a little longer than you remembered from a few months ago and he looks slightly fitter.

"You gonna stare at me the entire time or work, Lizewski?" you laugh and turn onto your stomach, pushing down your sunglasses again and resisting your head on your arms. You smile to yourself when you hear Dave's mumblings and shufflings as he works. 

Around fifteen minutes later, you shift onto your back again and see that Dave looks already sweaty from the excessive heat. Shit, he looks good.

"How long until I can take a dip," you cross your legs and ask, smiling at him as he jumps in surprise at the sound of your voice.

"O-oh, um," he avoids your gaze as he looks down at the pool, "I haven't added the chlorine and s-stuff y-yet, but after that probably I think- like thirty minutes?" 

You sit up and frown. "I'll just take a dip now, then, I don't wanna wait that long," you say and stand, running a hand in your hair as you walk to the stairs.

Dave watches you and he can't help but admit he's staring at your curves in your bikini. He resists the urge to adjust his shorts. 

"Y-yeah, s-sure," he stutters, unsure what to do now. 

You find him adorable so you smile at him as you walk into the pool. "Come, join me," you say, "It's boiling outside. My dad won't mind, promise," you say and guide some water onto your arms. 

Dave looks nervous now, his blue eyes round and unsure. "I- I don't want to bother you."

You smile at him and duck under the water, coming up and pushing hair from your forehead. "Nonsense, Lizewski. I'm inviting you in. Now, c'mon," you chuckle and swim around the pool.

Dave hesitates but he finally shrugs off his shirt and awkwardly covers himself until the pool water reaches his waist. He can feel you staring at his arms and chest and he blushes harder.

You swim to him. "Why're you so shy?" you ask curiously. "Usually guys that look like you are arrogant assholes."

"Guys that look like me?" Dave questions, walking further into the pool to meet you in the middle. He lifts his arms as he winces from the coolness of the water. 

You laugh and swim even closer until you're standing face-to-face in the water. Dave still looks blushed and you smirk. "Yeah. Guys that are handsome and cute and—" your gaze flickers to his abs, "hot—like you."

Dave looks like he could explode any second by how flushed he is and he rubs his nape. "Y-you think I'm all those things?"

You laugh, "Don't you own a mirror, Lizewski?"

He clearly doesn't know how to answer that so he goes with a compliment instead. "You're hot too, and cute–and b-beautiful," he mumbles shyly, "and your personality is totally banger–" he tries and you can tell he means it he's just nervous. 

You walk closer to him and hover your hand over his cheek before you push some of his curls behind his ear with your wet hand. "Dave, have you ever kissed a girl?" you ask, already knowing the answer. 

His breath hitches. "N-no–" 

"Is it okay if I kiss you?" You look into his blue eyes and then at his pink lips. 

Dave stutters, "B-but your parents—"

"Aren't paying attention to us. Promise," you smile and cup his cheek fully in your hand. You pull him in, pressing your lips to his gently. He's stiff in the beginning, his hands awkwardly finding your shoulders.

"Relax," you tease and bump your nose against his. 

Dave relaxes and he lets out a small gasp as you push his back to the cool tile of the pool, your mouth exploring his hungrily. He's not a bad kisser for someone who'd never done it and when you wrap one leg around his hip, his hand dips under the water to hold your thigh. You groan into his lips and continue to kiss him as the water splashes around you.

The sun is warm on your skin and Dave can taste the lemonade from your lips. It's intoxicating and he wants more. He pulls away, breathless as he looks down at your body glistening from water and his dick fully hardens at how sexy you look in your bikini. His eyes are glued to your tits. 

"Here," you laugh, feeling him becoming all hot and bothered so you guide one of his hands to your tit and continue to kiss him as he feels you up. You run one of your hands up and down his abs under the water. "Good boy," you praise between kisses and you feel like you're also on fire. 

No experienced boy has ever made you feel this good. How is that even possible?

You make out for another few minutes and then as you pull away, Dave's lips are red and moist. His eyes are blown wide and he's panting. He looks breathtakingly beautiful. 

You smirk and kiss his cheek, pushing away from him. "Times up," you tease and walk out of the pool, feeling his eyes linger on your figure as you wrap a towel around yourself. You turn to him, your tone light, "You should get back to work—Dad doesn't like slackers," you taunt him and grab your magazine. 

You hear Dave scrambling to exit the pool and you toss him an extra towel. 

"Might have to fix that big problem of yours first," you giggle, smirking.

Dave immediately presses the bunched-up towel against his boner as he makes an embarrassed squeal. Your heart leaps at the sound and you look over your shoulder, waving at him as you walk away. 

"I'll see you around, baby," you say with a wink and he is left a blushing mess behind you. 

[russellsppttemplates]

helloooo! i have an idea for an imagine

what if charles & y/n where childhood friends and they always pretended to be married as kids (yk those games 😭😂) and then in the future they DO get married and one of their family members brings it up at the wedding and it's very funny but cute!

cw: mentions Charles' father

"We actually have a surprise for you", you mother said as she and Pascale looked at eachother before the guy in charge of the projector on the wall started playing a video. It was old, slightly grainy and you were not sure of what it was until it showed you and Charles.

"Why do we have to film it again, Y/N?", you heard your mother's voice as she focused the camera on you. You were wearing a pink dress and had some flowers on your hand, "Because me and Charles need to have this recorded for when we are older!", you smiled, "and what are you doing?", Charles' father's voice was heard, "we're getting married! Because Pascale and Hervé love eachother and they got married, mama and papa got married because they love eachother, so we are getting married, too!", you beamed.

Charles stood in the middle of the living room, Lorenzo taking the spot on his side as you walked closer to Charles. While Lorenzo was older than both of you, he went along, saying something about true love and how you were meant to be together. "Charles, do you have any vows?", he asked. "What are vows?", he asked, "it's like a promise you make to Y/N", he whispered back.

"Y/N", he began said confidently, "I promise to always love you, to show you all the beautiful things in life and to never leave you. Oh, and also to always share my food with you", he smiled.

"Charles", you followed, "I want you to know that you're the boy I love mostest in the world, and I'll always be by your side no matter what", you smiled, holding your hands in his.

"You can now kiss the bride!", Lorenzo announced as a shy six year old Charles kissed your cheeky sweetly before you hugged him, both of you smiling to the camera, "we're married!", Charles yelled, "Oh, we need to tell Pierre!", you chirped in.

"Oh my goodness!", Charles laughed while you wiped tears of laughter from your eyes, joining your guests as they commented how sweet it all was.

"I love how, as soon as we got married, you just wanted to tell Pierre", Francisca pointed out, napkin in her hand as she carefully wiped around your eyes, not wanting to ruin her makeup, "he was Charles' best friend and he wasn't there, I think I was being very considerate of him, actually", you stated, "and I was still a little bit jealous that Charles had another best friend at this age, probably just wanted to flash him that I loved Charles the mostest".

"Well, they were good promises, and I intend to keep those, too", Charles said, holding your hand in his once again, kissing your knuckles.

"We don't have it in recording, but Charles made my late husband, who I know would love to be here and knew this day would happen, get them a chocolate cake so they could have a honeymoon! Don't worry, it was an age appropriate trip to the slides at the park!", Pascale chuckled. Pierre saw an opportunity and he took it, "hopefully your honeymoon this time around also has very exciting slides and other fun things!", he toasted, sipping from his drink as you hid your blushed face in your husband's neck.

(Thank you for your submission ✨️)

[yuurei20]

Favorite Foods and Why: Pomefiore (⚠️ groovied card art below ⚠️)

Vil's favorite food is "homemade smoothies."

He makes smoothies for Rook and Epel with fruit from Sunset Savanna, explaining, "What we put in our bodies is just as important as what we put on them...These vitamin-rich smoothies are good for both your looks AND your health."

Vil mentions procuring smoothie ingredients in the Scalding Sands, a smoothie shop he likes in the Fairest City, green smoothies for daily vegetable intake and says that potionology techniques comes in handy for blending smoothies.

Vil says he normally has a custom smoothie every morning.

-

Rook's favorite food is live pâte. He explains, "To think a single dish could be both rustic AND refined at the same time... Ah, such a delicacy!"

-

When asked what his favorite food is Epel is happy to explain his love of yakiniku (written as both "grilled meat" and "barbecue" on EN):

Back home, we'd have barbecues where all the neighbors would turn out, grown-ups and young-uns alike. We'd take big ol' hunks'a meat and grill 'em over a charcoal fire. Finger food don't exactly make for fancy eatin', but BOY HOWDY is it a mighty fine meal! And then there's all the fresh veggies. They've got a natural sweetness to 'em. You can eat em straight off the grill without puttin' anything on 'em, and they're already perfect!

Realizing that he is saying something that Vil would not approve of Epel then follows with, "Well, I do have one thing I like even more. It's, ah, macarons. They're...cute. And sweet! And they come in lots of different flavors. They're not very filling, but still."

Having a supposed love for macarons seems to be one of the ways Epel is learning to adapt to Pomefiore: when Epel first admits to Vil that his favorite food is yakiniku Vil rejects his response and orders him to come up with a favorite food that better suits their dorm.

Interestingly, Epel seems to have actually come up with the cover for macarons prior to his vignette with Vil: in Ace's ceremonial vignette, timed to take place after Vil has physically beaten Epel into submission but before their conversation at the dorm, it is possible that we see Epel come up with macarons as a response that he assumes would be expected of him.

And he is proven right, with Ace saying that he gives off the vibe of someone who would like macarons, and laughing aloud when Epel follows with "and yakiniku" for being in such a contrast to his appearance.

When Vil decides to get Epel macarons as a souvenir from the Fairest City Ace is surprised to hear that macarons are supposedly Epel's favorite food, saying that Epel has said he likes "more filling stuff," and especially barbecue, to which Vil responds, "Epel. Loves. Macarons. It seems he hasn't been forthcoming with that information. Well, that won't do. I'll have to have a talk with him when we're back at school."

When Epel is offered macarons during Glorious Masquerade he is less than thrilled, confusing Azul, who says that according to his "intel" macarons are supposed to be Epel's favorite food.

This was possibly a reference to Jade's ceremonial vignette where we see him provide Azul with a registry of all the first-year students, and take it upon himself to also procure information such as "home countries, hobbies, tastes, least favorite foods, and worst subjects."