#yes. I know how that sounds. it's meant to be like that.

[moonlight-prose]

“please don’t make me say it if you aren’t going to say it back” with a desperately in love with joel reader would hit so much…

weaved around your finger like yarn

a/n: me writing for joel again?? this has sat in my inbox for over a year and i never meant to actually take this long with it. but i finally figured out how to write this concept. and now i am actually obsessed with the small world of softness i created for these two. this is yes jackson joel, but nothing bad happens ever to him because why would it? it's all fine right?

summary: he never made space in his life for love in the aftermath of destruction. the after of his life he once thought would extend past decades of gray hair, smile lines carved in around his mouth now set in frowns and sneers. but snowfall and alcohol blur the lines for both of you when winter comes to jackson.

word count: 1.6k+

pairing: joel miller x reader

warnings: not explicit, love confessions, heavy makeout sessions, alcohol consumption, tipsy joel, sad joel, laughter at the end of the world, hope.

He can't remember laughing until his stomach hurt. The ache that spilled into his chest, warming his insides with a sun like quality that left him shivering. He can't recall the feel of his cheeks pulled so wide the sensation became a phantom pain seconds after. He knows it happened. He can distinctly recall the jokes, the joy. But the laughter lingers like a ghost at the back of his mind—translucent and gray and distorted enough to feel false.

Alcohol simmers in his stomach with a rueful intent. A malignant aftermath that would hit him in a few hours after two months of attempted sobriety. Ellie insisted, he accepted. Easy enough to say. Difficult to follow through with.

He had his days where whiskey sounded better than the flavor of bacon Tommy would bring him in the early mornings. But the dismay in your eyes helped him hold off, regain his awareness of a world not yet shattered. For once in quite a long time...he finally lived. For you, for Ellie, for Sarah.

He lived to see his hair grow longer and the grays appear more frequently. To drink coffee in the mornings on a porch you were already settled on. To help you fix small things here and there in your cabin next door. He lived for your smile, the light in your eyes. The curve of your lips as they pulled up into bolstering peals of laughter—the furrow in your brow as you frowned from endless frustrations on long hard days.

Joel Miller lived to love you.

He existed to dig his heels in and wait shit out—it's what he was good at, what he knew how to do. But for you he relented quicker than ice on a hot asphalt driveway back home in Texas. His mind became sand that slipped through your giving hands—heart a fluttering mess that sang a tune he could never get right on the guitar stashed in his living room.

Days bloomed into weeks which grew into months. Eventually a year passed and what used to be difficult and awkward to be around people again, felt like breathing the fresh winter air. The jackets he managed to find hung on hooks by the door, a pair of heavy boots beside the small table Tommy crafted him.

The mornings were nice. When hot water hit ground coffee and the aroma plagued his kitchen for hours at a time. The evenings called you towards him—simple cooking skills shared in the confines of a home he pined for you to reside in.

Life was a sliver of peace he never imagined he'd get again. But the hole in his heart never faded, the pain still rang out sharp enough to have him clamping down on the inside of his cheek. And your smile made his stomach ache with a longing deep enough to scar.

Tommy told him to buck up and do something. Ellie called him a fucking idiot.

You...gave no indication you felt the same way. So silent and reserved he would remain.

Your feet slid on icy, fingers gripping tightly to his jacket with a yelp in a quick attempt to save yourself from slamming to the ground. Joel snickered loud and brash and a wash of embarrassment burned under frozen cheeks. Dragging you up, his arm looped tightly around your waist—hand pressed harsh and insistent to the small of your back. You swallowed the butterflies at the sight of his face flushed red—eyes shining from the effect of too much whiskey.

"We were bad tonight," you muttered, breath forming a cloud between your faces.

He grinned—skin buzzing at the close proximity of your form. "Only a little bit."

"You're not supposed to drink Joel."

Leaning in he traded his smile like a secret; you tucked it into your chest with a sharp breath. "I won't tell if you don't, darlin'."

"Joel..."

"C'mon. No one's gettin' in trouble here."

A blade pierced your heart brutally—spilling crimson along pale white snow. Even as Joel remained entirely unaware of how you clung to him. How your body called his name—your mind plagued with thoughts of his being, with images of his smile, with the sound of his raspy voice. He'd never know the way you cherished each moment with him. The mornings tucked away from an unruly world—the nights shared between friends who might one day be more.

Your teeth scraped along the cracked skin of your bottom lip, eyes cast up to the curl of his lips. The words sprang forth faster than you could drag them back. Your chest of secrets unlocked and bared to the man who drowned you in his small flecks of joy. Later you'd blame the alcohol. When the headache ravaged your head and an ache lingered between your thighs.

Later you'd comb over every small glance and breathy word.

"I like spending time with you Joel," you breathed, fingers toying with the front of his leather coat. "I like...um..."

The breath caught in his throat, gaze desperate to catch yours. "Yeah sugar?"

"It's a hard thing to say." Another cloud of your whiskey tinged breath filled the air.

"You can tell me anythin'. You know that right?" Even as hope flared bright and scorching through the width of his chest. "I'll listen."

Hesitation spilled into the night, your voice a soft whisper he barely caught. "Please don't make me say it if you aren't going to say it back."

Oh didn't you know?

Did you not see how his gaze dug beneath the layers of flesh and bone, of tendons and veins that clung to your form? Did you not understand he would take a bullet for you? That he'd bear the wound of a warrior's death to keep you alive? How could you not know that his love stuck to his tongue with a saccharine bitterness he swallowed down like the drugs he once took to numb his mind?

You healed pieces of his soul you never broke. A marred and fucked puzzle that was meant to find a home six feet underground. By his own hand no less. He was destined to die—born to suffer—yet you swathed him wool with the promise of a peaceful life.

A future etched by the hands of love.

"Say it," he pleaded, frozen hand cupping your cheek.

"It's more than just that." The breath you took shot adrenaline down his spine. "I like our mornings. I like our dinners and conversation. And even when you come into town with me. But I...I love..."

The glossy nature of your eyes created by unshed tears that pooled at your waterline dug the knife deep enough to meld it within his heart. You didn't know. You couldn't have. His silence, his hesitation, swallowed every emotion he might have told you—every secret uttered in the shadows of night that told only half his story.

He told you about Sarah. About their life together, about her smile. That in itself felt like a proclamation of love—a key to the heart he thought stopped beating long ago.

"I knew it would freak you out," you muttered, pulling away from his hold.

Only for him to panic. His hand gripped the back of your jacket, pushing you towards him hard enough for your feet to slip again. But your gasp was swallowed by the cold press of his mouth to yours. Lips chapped by the winter air slid against your parted mouth as you froze against his chest. Your hands hung listlessly at your sides. He kissed you tenderly, attempting to wake you from the spell of shock, but to no avail did it bring you back.

"'M sorry." His words were muffled against your chin, forehead pressed to yours and eyes squeezed shut. "I shouldn't have–"

The press of your fingers into his cheeks jolted him back—eyes wide as you dragged him back with a stifled moan. Your mouth found his tongue hot and wet along his bottom lip in a pleading motion he complied to instantly. Stepping forward he fell into you with a deep groan. One that echoed and vibrated right down to your stomach—one you savored with a lick along his back teeth.

Hands cupped your ass with an insistent need to mold you closer, fingers digging into the plush flesh he longed to bite and taste. You tasted like whiskey. You smelled like him. It made him dizzy with want, anxious to lead you back to his porch—to seat you on his kitchen counter in the mornings while the coffee went cold.

"Fuck I wanna take ya home sugar," he grunted, biting at your lower lip with a grin.

Your breathless reply made the hair stand on the back of his neck. "You can."

"No." He shook his head, stealing another kiss with a gritty moan. "Not tonight. 'M gonna do this proper."

"Proper," you smiled, tugging on the longer curls you refused to let him cut. "You're such an old man Miller."

The large breadth of his hand cupped your chin, pushing the cheeks he lightly bit into together. "Won't be sayin' that tomorrow when I ain't got all this fuckin' alcohol in me."

"Yeah?" The droop of your eyelids—the darkened iris now filled with lust—set his teeth on edge. His body hummed with a new buzz he craved since meeting you. "Prove it."

"Oh I will." He grinned sharply, licking his teeth like a wolf waiting to pounce. "Don't you worry 'bout that."

A glimmer in your eyes caught his attention, the grip on your face loosening. "You know I love you right darlin'?"

You smiled—big and bright—and Joel felt another piece of his soul set back into place. "I love you too Joel."

[jackiezenauthor]

Someone mentioned a furry becoming a werewolf and it got me chuckling. Of course, I made it worse.

Cw:

furry shenanigans.

No 'action'

single take

"Feel them! They're so fluffy I could die!" the giant wolf squealed like a teenage girl... which she used to be, right before Matilda's summon got lured away from its intended target and decided to sink its demonic fangs into the wrong person.

She looked past the giant furred jugs that were meant to be breasts, trying to figure out what the beast meant. Always hard to tell with animal heads, but this one looked rather... Pleased?

"And I have toe beans too!" the werewolf squealed again, staring at her own paws. "And look at this cake!" she turned around and showed her butt, her tail swinging past Matilda's nose.

The witch stepped backwards, doing her best impression of that smell didn't just insta-kill half of my olfactory cells, and thank Lilith for that. Sometimes people took some time to tease her before finally complaining, and this time she couldn't rush into it either. That wretched demon had messed up, but it was she who summoned it to begin with. For something this irreversible too...

"Nobody believes me, though." the werewolf whined and dropped on the floor, taking a number of books and ingredient jars down with her tail. "For some reason, whenever I open the camera to show them, it cuts off. No matter what I do. And I can't take any pictures either."

Was that crying? Her ears were flat along the line of her head.

Cursing people into lycanthropy was not Matilda's favorite spell, but she'd done it a few times before. This was the first time one had adapted to their new body in a matter of... She checked the clock... Three hours. Usually it took about a week until they even figured out how to stand up on just their hind legs. This one even folowed her summon's smell all the way back to her...

"I am so sorry that you got mixed up into this." Matilda spoke slowly, as peacefully as she could. "You really didn't deserve it."

The beast's eyes widened and a wailing howl broke from her throat.

"You mean, you're going to take it away?" she sobbed.

"Take it awa...? You mean, remove your curse?" Matilda scratched her head. "I... I really can't." she admitted. "BUT! I can make you some potions that will help you keep it in control! Most of the days..." she rushed to the back of her shop, the brew that she'd been working on almost ready. "If you can wait until the moon starts waning."

"You can't?" the werewolf sounded... cheerful?

Yes. The tap on the floor behind her was definitely her tail wagging.

"You don't want the curse removed?" Matilda asked slowly, one hand in her pocket, ready to unravel the silver thread she kept for self defense, just in case the beast exploded on her. It wouldn't have been the first time.

"God, no!" she answered, her tail-wag making a worrisome number of ingredient jars jump on their shelf. "I love being a wolf!" she revealed a worrisome amount of white, sharp fangs, in what could be suspected for being a smile.

Matilda went back to stir her brew one more time, counter-clockwise, then three times clockwise. She reviewed the entire conversation in her mind. No. There had been no real shade of sarcasm, if she accepted the idea that this girl was not, in fact, trying to complain or take revenge... But then...

"Why are you here?" Matilda returned to the main room.

The werewolf got up carefully, holding her tail with one hand and stretching a tote bag to the witch with the other.

"Can you do some kind of spell or curse, so that I can record and take pictures of myself?" she said.

"You want to be on camera?" Matilda looked inside the bag: a phone, a laptop and a webcam...

"Yes, please!" the werewolf flashed her another view of all her fangs.

"I can enchant you a collar..." the witch returned the tote bag. It felt like a very strange fever dream.

The beast squealed and clapped her paws, her tail wrecking havoc through the ingredient jars behind her. She startled and grabbed her tail again, her ears flopping up and down in what could only be... bashfulness?

"I'm so sorry for your jars!" she said. "I'll pay for what can be bought and help gather the others, anytime, just teach me how!"

Matilda nodded, watching the beast cradle her twitching tail to her chest. She really was happy with this situation...

After so many centuries in the craft, she really didn't think anything could surprise her any longer. How wrong she'd been...

"Can it be the pink one?" the werewolf perked up when the witch opened her leather binds cabinet. "And do you need those cuffs anytime soon?" her tail swiped yet another row of jars.

Yeah... There were still mysteries left in the world...

A witch found out to her horror that she had somehow cursed the wrong person. Expecting retribution when the victim came knocking at her doorstep, she was surprised to find them rather pleased with the curse's effects.

[n0vazsq]

Tired of being alone | OP81 x Reader

pairing . . . oscar piastri x nurse!gf!reader

summary . . . Watching your boyfriend reveal your relationship on international TV, you realise that you missed him more than you realised

request . . . yes!! based on this request!

word count . . . 712

warnings . . . none!

faceclaim . . . N/A

alexavia yaps . . . i have a free lesson rn so why not be productive and write? it's a bit shitty and kinda rushed but my next lesson is eng and i can NOT be late for it </3 saur sorry pookie!!

taglist . . . @barcapix (lmk if you want to join the taglist!)

. . . You slumped into the couch, limbs heavy from another exhausting shift. The hum of the TV filled the room, flickering softly in the dim light.

Your scrubs were still on, your shoes kicked off by the door. The thought of getting up to change or even eat felt too overwhelming after all those back to back shifts at the hospital. All you wanted was to melt into the couch and let the familiar background noise wash over you.

Oscar’s voice drifted into the room, steady and comforting. His interviews were always a joy to watch, making you smile and laugh, just like a kid watching their favourite cartoon. You hadn’t even registered what the interview was about; something about the upcoming Las Vegas GP, until the interviewer leaned in with a knowing grin.

"So, Oscar, we heard you stayed busy during the break between Brazil and Vegas. Anything special?"

You perked up, the exhaustion momentarily forgotten. Oscar’s laugh came through the speakers, soft and a little awkward. It was a laugh you knew well, the one he gave when he wasn’t sure how much to share. Your heart started beating a little faster.

"Well," he began, rubbing the back of his neck, a habit that always made you melt. "I spent most of it taking care of someone close to me. She works really long shifts and don’t always get enough rest, so I made sure she was… comfortable."

You blinked, sitting up straighter. Did he just-? Your heart skipped a beat, eyes widening.

The interviewer’s eyes widened at his sentence, just like how you did, as if he was mimicking your actions. "Interesting," he teased, leaning in slightly. "Care to share more details? Who’s this mysterious lady?"

Oscar’s smile was small, but it reached his eyes, soft and sincere. "Let’s just say she's in healthcare. A nurse, actually. She's been pretty amazing, and I wanted to make sure she had a break too."

Your breath caught in your throat. There it was. A soft launch, wrapped in his quiet, subtle way. Oscar wasn’t the type of person who did grand gestures or flashy declarations, but this? This felt perfect. It was a little secret, meant just for you, even with the world watching.

The interviewer pressed on, curiosity piqued. "A nurse, huh? Sounds like you’ve got someone special in your world."

Oscar’s eyes flickered with that shy warmth you adored. "Yeah," he admitted, voice softer. "I do."

You couldn’t help but laugh softly, pressing a hand to your mouth. The exhaustion of the day melted away, replaced by a warm, fluttering feeling in your chest. He always had a way of making you feel seen, even when you were miles apart.

Your phone buzzed beside you. Picking it up, you saw that it was a text from Oscar.

Hope you’re watching. Rest up, yeah? ❤

You bit your lip, a grin spreading across your face. He always knew exactly what you needed.

Busted, Mr. Soft Launch. I owe you a dinner.

Your phone buzzed again almost immediately.

Only if you let me cook.

You leaned back into the couch, the smile refusing to leave your face. The weight of the day didn’t feel so heavy anymore. Knowing that he’d spent his break looking after you, making sure you were okay, it made all the long shifts and sleepless nights worth it.

On the screen, the interview moved on to other questions, but you weren’t really listening anymore. You were too lost in the quiet joy of knowing you were loved; subtly, quietly, and now, a little bit known by the world too.

You texted back, fingers hovering over the keys for a moment.

I’m tired of being alone all day. Come home faster.

His reply came quickly, almost as if he’d been waiting for it.

See you soon. It’s worth it for you. Every time.

Your heart swelled, and you sank deeper into the couch's soft cushions, the warmth of his words wrapping around you like a blanket. Even with the miles between you, he had a way of making you feel like you were home.

In that adorable way that made you feel loved and cherished, just like when you were a kid.

God, you loved him more than anything.

[pankowperfection]

Good Intentions

reposting because Tumblr doesn't like the old link

GIF by normatural

Summary: JJ keeps watch over you at a party, but decides he can't stay away anymore

Warnings: smut, mentions of drinking, mentions of drug use, oral (fem receiving), 18+

Being John B's younger sister meant inheriting the other pogues as family, regardless of whether you wanted them or not. They were basically siblings you'd never asked for, so while everyone was polite when you were all together, you weren't particularly close with any of them. Unfortunately, John B always dragged you out with them so you weren't just sitting at home alone and tonight that had meant going to a kook party on Figure 8, the very last place you wanted to be.

You had stressed about what to wear, in the end opting for a pair of ripped jeans and a lacy black tank top that showed a little bit of under boob. Strappy sandals on your feet you headed to the kitchen, finding JJ and John B gathering beer to take to the party. "Are you guys almost ready?" JJ turned around at the sound of your voice, looking you over head to toe. You missed the way his eyes darkened at the sight of your exposed breasts, how he swallowed thickly before looking away. "Yes y/n, chill. Just gathering supplies. Let's go." You follow the group outside, piling into the Twinkie and praying the night goes smoothly.

Of course as soon as you arrived at the party, everyone split off into different directions, leaving you alone. John B had gone to search for Sarah, Kie and Pope settling into a deep conversation about environmental changes needed to protect the beaches. JJ headed out to the back patio overlooking the beach, searching for a quiet spot to roll a joint. Wanting to look like you belonged you wandered into the kitchen, pouring yourself a drink into the red plastic cup before making your way back to the main part of the party. Unbeknownst to you, JJ had come back inside, positioning himself in the corner of the room to keep watch over you as John B had instructed.

He'd always been secretly attracted to you, never making a move because he didn't want to be the guy to go after his best friend's younger sister. He had spent many hours admiring you from a distance, wanting to be the one to make you laugh on a bad day. Countless nights he had laid wide awake in bed, wondering what it would be like to kiss you, to feel your bare skin beneath his fingers. How did you taste? What would it sound like for you to moan his name? The thought of anyone else touching you, getting to see you in that way, made JJ see red.

Over the next few hours, several guys approached you and tried to get you to dance. Each time you turned them away, getting more frustrated with each pursuit. The final straw was when none other than Rafe Cameron had stalked up silently behind you, placing his hands on your hips and pulling you back against him. You let out a gasp, spinning around in his arms quickly and attempting to shove him away. "Rafe, get off of me." He smirked down at you, leaning in closer. "Shh, relax sweetheart. I just want a quick taste. Let me show you a good time." Without further thought you threw your drink into his face, leaving him fuming before stalking off to grab another.

Suddenly you were pulled into the hallway, a familiar large frame caging you in against the wall. "JJ, what are you doing?" He sighs, letting his hand trail down your face before tucking your hair behind your ear. "I just wanted to make sure you were okay. Seems like you haven't had a moment of peace all night, all these dumb kooks treating you like a piece of meat." You look up into his blue eyes, something different in them that you haven't seen before that makes butterflies erupt in your stomach. "I'm fine J. Why do you care anyways? I know John B asked you to look out for me, but I can take care of myself." He smiles, dimples on display making your heart beat faster. "Oh I know, I saw that for myself. You look so hot, even hotter when you threw that drink in Cameron's face. Sexiest thing I've ever seen."

He leans closer, hands on either side of your face, close enough you can feel his breath on your lips. "JJ...." His lips are on yours in an instant, soft at first, savoring the feeling of your lips against his. When you let a moan slip and tangle your hands into his hair he loses all restraint, pressing his body into yours as his tongue plunges into your mouth. His hands are everywhere, caressing softly over your breasts and bringing your nipples to hard peaks before traveling further south, ghosting over the front of your jeans and making your panties soaked. You can feel his hard cock pressing into your core, grabbing onto his ass to pull him closer still causing him to groan into your mouth. You pull apart breathless, chests heaving and heat flooding through your system. "Take me home J, please." He nods, making some kind of excuse to John B about you not feeling well and letting him know he was taking you home.

The ride back to the Chateau is quiet, air thick with sexual tension. You barely make it over the threshold into the house before he is on you again, picking you up and carrying you to the spare bedroom he calls his own. He sits down on the bed with you straddling his lap, hands kneading the flesh of your ass as you grind down over his length. You pull his head back, exposing his neck as you kiss and suck over every inch of exposed skin. "Shit y/n. We shouldn't do this, your John B's sister." You push him down onto the bed, rocking over length again in slow, deliberate motions that cause him to moan again. "Tell me you want me to stop J and I will." You continue, friction of your jeans rubbing your clit perfectly as you start to pick up speed. "Fuck,” he groans, flipping you over quickly and trapping your hands over your head.

"You're sure this is what you want? Cause once I start, I won't be able to stop." He searches your face for any sign of discomfort, wanting to be certain that you really do want to cross this line. "I want you JJ. Please, please make me feel good." With that he helps you sit up, quickly discarding your shirt and taking in the sight of your naked breasts. "God, you're so perfect," he coos, leaning down to take your left nipple into his mouth. You weave your fingers into his hair, holding his face close as he lavishes your sensitive bud with his tongue. He kisses his way to your right breast, repeating the same actions as his hand pops the button on your jeans. He pulls the zipper down slowly, connecting his lips to your neck as his fingers dive under the material of your panties. When you feel the coolness of his ring touch your overheated skin you moan, hips bucking up into his touch. "Mmm JJ, feels so good." He takes his time, teasing two fingers up and down through your folds, lightly grazing your clit with each pass. "So wet for me sweetheart, bet you taste so good."

His hot, greedy mouth kisses down your body, pausing long enough to remove the rest of your clothes before settling between your thighs. "You have no idea how long I've wanted to do this." His breath tickles your pussy, eyes threatening to roll at what is about to happen. "J please, need you so bad." With that he dives in, devouring you with such ferocity you swear you might pass out from the overwhelming pleasure. Your nails rake into his scalp and he moans, vibrations making your thighs tremble. Two fingers tease around your entrance before he plunges them inside, curling them just right so his ring massages your walls. "Fuck J, don't stop." He increases his pace, fucking you with his fingers while his talented tongue worships your clit. "Come on sweetheart, cum for me." His soft command does you in, body trembling as you grind against his face while you ride out your orgasm.

The sight of your release shining on his chin as he comes up to kiss you makes you feral, pushing him onto his back again before hovering over his length. "Easy sweetheart," his abs tense beneath your touch, struggling to not show how excited he is at the thought of you riding him. "Is this okay? Can I ride you?" His eyes roll back at your words, moan leaving his plump lips that tells you all you need to know. You line him up before starting to slowly sink down, his thick length stretching you in a way no one has. "God, you're so big." You finally bottom out, taking a moment to breathe and adjust to how deep he is inside of you. "Y/n, fuck. Need you to move, squeezing me so fucking tight."

His hands grab your hips, guiding your motions as you start to bounce up and down on his length. His fingers dig into your hips, grip bruising but you just don't care. Suddenly he lands a soft smack to your ass making you gasp and clench around him. "Oh god," he groans, bucking up into you to meet your thrusts. Before you can realize what happened he has you on your back, legs over his shoulders as he plows back into you. You let out a whimper, nails digging into his back as he starts to thrust hard and fast.

"You feel so good, don't want to ever stop." He pins your hands over your head again, laying down on top of you and sucking bruises into your neck. The new angle feels amazing, each thrust stimulating your clit. "Yes J, just like that. I'm gonna cum again." He somehow speeds up, rocking into you faster. When he bites the sensitive spot on your neck your orgasm washes over, wave after wave of pleasure coursing through your veins as you moan out his name. "Shit princess, gonna fill you up." A few thrusts later he stills, warm release coating your walls as he comes to a halt.

Please let me know if you want to be added to my taglist

[maxillness]

╰┈➤ Are you jealous, Liefje? || MV33 x gf!reader

Warnings: 18+, pegging, anal fingering, overstimulation, jealous!reader, sub!max, Lestappen, mean!reader, possessive!reader, chocking, praise kink, degrading kink

Wordcount: 1.6k

Anybody remember that “scientific research” polls I did back in August? Yeah, this is it

Taglist: @5sospenguinqueen

Already early morning had she been pissed off

She had walked into the paddock holding Max’s hand doing media day, wanting to spend as much time with him as possible, but… Max had decided to talk to Charles the whole walk to the Red Bull hospitality

At lunch, she agreed to eat with Charles, but she wouldn’t have if she knew that the two of them would talk trough the whole meal, and even fucking flirt a few times

They ate dinner together as well, nothing fancy. At this point in the day, she was furious about how much Max was flirting with Charles

She put her hand on Max’s thigh, slightly warning him, but he didn’t react, only flirted more with Charles

Her hand got further up Max’s thigh, squeezing him softly. His breathing hitched slightly

She had enough now, standing up from the chair at the table “I’m going back to the hotel. I’m tired” She sighed

She was even more pissed when Max just said he would meet her there and not go with her

Max was back at the hotel 30 minutes after her, acting like if he hadn’t flirted with Charles the whole day

She sighed when he had changed into sweats and a t-shirt and laid down on his stomach on top of the duvet

She continued to read her book, trying to ignore how mad she was

“You’re mad at me” It wasn’t a question, he knew she was mad, just not why “Why are you mad at me?” He asked, turning to his side, looking up at her

She didn’t answer. She didn’t even show that she heard him

“Wait…” He chuckled slightly, moving to straddle her thighs “Is this because I flirted with Charles?” He asked with a teasing smile, leaning over to grip the head board behind her “Are you jealous, liefje?”

She barely looked up at him, but she did

“You are” He laughed, leaning in to kiss her, but she stopped him, grabbing his chin harshly instead

“You are mine, and only mine” She said, making him blush harshly and swallow softly “Understood?”

He nodded slightly “Words” She ordered

“Yes. I understand” He chocked out

“Good boy” She loosened her grip on his chin “I want you naked on your stomach”

He gulped slightly, knowing what that meant mixed with the tone in her voice

“Yes, ma’am” He said softly, getting off of her lap, quickly getting rid of his clothes while she went to her suitcase

She got the sealed bag where the lube was as well as she got the strap on and placed them both beside his body on the bed

She only wore one of his t-shirts and a pair of panties, which neither of them she bothered to take off as she got in between his legs, forcing them apart, making him whimper softly

She grabbed the bag with the lube bottle, taking it out, Max’s hands already tightening in the pillow under his head where he was turned to the side

She poured some lube onto her fingers, warming it up in her hand, her other hand palming his ass softly, making whimpers flow out of him

She pressed a finger against his hole before she slowly pushed it in making him moan softly and his face scrunch up in pleasure

His back arched slightly as she slowly started to move her finger, twisting it slightly as well, his moans soft

When he had gotten loose enough, she pushed in a second finger, letting him get adjusted before she started moving her fingers again, soft whines and moans spilling from his lips

She started curling her fingers upwards, hitting his prostate, making him moan loud and his back arch, his hands tight in the pillow

“He could never make you sound like this” She almost growled, having leaned over so her mouth was just by his ear, her fingers speeding up, hitting his prostate repeatedly

“Never. O-only you, ma’am” He moaned loudly, grinding his hips down against her fingers

She answered his motions by pulling out her fingers, making him whine like a needy whore

She stood up from the bed, pulling the strap-on up her legs, securing it around her hips

She grabbed at his thighs, pulling him down the bed, his feet on the ground, his upper body still on the bed

She spread his cheeks apart, slowly pushing into him, making him moan softly

She allowed him to get adjusted before she started a slow pace, making him whimper and whine

When her hips started getting faster, and she angled them to hit his prostate making him moan loud, his hands went back to her hips, keeping her close

She forcefully removed his hands, keeping them locked behind his back with one hand, the other on the back of his neck, keeping him down against the bed as she sped up

“Does he fuck you this good, huh? Does he know how you like it?” She sounded more possessive then she ever had

“Fuck- no. Only you, ma’am” He moaned loudly, slightly muffled into the sheets of the bed

“Yeah? So he doesn’t know how fast I can get you on your knees? Or how you are the same about of submissive you are in bed, as how dominant you are on track?” The grip on the back of his neck got tighter

“Just you, ma’am- please- ah” His thighs were shaking, his knees buckling slightly, almost falling off the bed of it wasn’t for her body

“What was that, baby?” She chuckled slightly, her nails digging into both of his wrists

“Please- ah. Can I come, please?” He almost cried out

She didn’t answer, she just pulled out of him, making him let out a high-pitched whine

“Stop being whiny. Get up on the bed” His legs were shaky, but he managed to get up on the bed when she had let go of both the back of his neck and his wrists

“On your back” He whimpered slightly at her harsh tone, but he did as requested, turning from his stomach and onto his back

“Good boy” He whimpered at her words and whined when she spread his legs, positioning herself in between them

He locked his legs around her hips, pulling her closer again, the head of the strap-on nudging against his hole, making him moan softly

“You’re such a needy little slut, aren’t you?” He moaned softly at her words, a deep blush spreading down his body

She positioned one of her hands beside his waist, the other pushing down on his collarbone, his hands wrapped around her wrist, as she slowly pushed herself into him again, making him whine softly

As she started moving slowly again, he moved her hand from his collarbone to his throat, making her smirk softly and press softly down around him as her hips moved faster

“Does he know how good you are at being quiet when you really want to, huh?” She asked, almost pounding into him, certainly not being very quiet

“Does he know how I fuck you in your drivers room, and you’re being such a good boy, making sure nobody can hear you?” He was about to answer, but she angled her hips into his prostate, moans ripping from his throat

“Only you!” He moaned loud, sure as hell being heard by the people next doors

“Yeah? Just me? Am I the only one who gets to fuck you like this? See you like this?” She pressed a little harder around his throat, making him cough slightly

“Only you, ma’am” He moaned out “Please- can I come? I need to come, please” He begged, almost crying out

“You can come, baby” She said, but was no where near done with him

Max almost screamed her name as he came, stripes of white cum landing on his chest and abdomen, his nails digging into her wrist

He panted heavily as she rode out his orgasm, slowing her hips down “Don’t think I’m done with you, love”

Max whined both at her words and as she pulled out of him, positioning herself to be sat up against the headboard

“Come here, baby” She said, curling her finger to tell him to come closer

He did, straddling her hips, hovering over the dildo, whimpering when she pulled him down onto the toy

He held onto her shoulders, a whimpering mess when he started moving, still sensitive from his last orgasm

“Come on, baby. Lean back” She said, softly pushing at his chest, his hands holding onto her thighs as he started bouncing in her, his prostate being hit at every thrusts, making his body shake from overstimulation

“Please, liefje. I-I can’t take anymore” He leaned forward, hiding into the crook of her neck, stopping his motions

“Come on, be a good boy and take your punishment” He shook his head slightly, whimpering when she pulled him away from her neck “Colour?”

“Green” He answered with a slight whine

“Good boy. Now, lean back, and take your punishment, okay?” He nodded slightly, leaning back again

“That’s it. Good boy” She praised him, moving him slowly before she thrusted up into him, pulling out a mixture of moans and whimpers of overstimulation

She wrapped her hand around Max’s cock, stroking him softly, making him come faster than he could ask for permission

He rode out his orgasm, falling forward and hiding in the crook of her neck, panting heavily

“I’m not sorry for flirting with Charles, I did it to rile you up, I am sorry for coming without permission” He explained

“You know, Max, if you want our sex life to be rough, all you gotta do is ask, unless you want a reason for it to be rough” She said, kissing his sweat covered hair

“I love you” He mumbled into her skin

“I love you too, love”

It’s safe to say that Max was limping into the paddock the next morning

[joelswritingmistress]

Neighbors with Benefits: Chapter 14 (Joel x reader)

Joel Miller x f!reader

Word Count: 2000

Your mother was busy getting all the side dishes ready for the picnic while your dad packed coolers of beer, soda and water outside and prepped the grill.

“I'll bring these out,” you offered, repeating what felt like a thousand times, “What else do you need?”

You knew your mother had a thousand things to say, and maybe a hundred questions after that. Still, she remained cordial and attempted to seem normal on the surface. You knew by her tightly wound mannerisms that she wasn't even close to portraying that - at least not to you. She might've fooled a coliseum full of people with her mask, but not you.

When everything was set up and less than an hour remained until guests began to arrive, you tried to excuse yourself.

“Okay, I’m going to shower.” You scampered toward the stairs but your mother called you back.

Fuck. You had almost gotten up the stairs, but without stalling made your way back to where your mom stood in the kitchen.

“Do you need any more help?” You tried to butter her up a bit by offering your aid and pressing on a smile, but your mother wasn't having it.

“You need to consider what you're doing, (Y/N),” she warned, “I'm saying it for your own good.”

“Okay,” you halfheartedly agreed.

“I mean it,” your mother went on. “I honestly don't know what other advice to give you. He’s a man. He's married.”

“He's not with Cecille,” you insisted, “Do you really think I'd get involved with a married man? I mean, I guess legally he is but they haven't lived together for awhile and they're getting a legal divorce.”

“You're twenty-three.”

“And I'm able to date who I want to date,” you said without trying to sound confrontational. “Mom, I know on the surface this looks bad. But I'm going to feel this out and see where it goes. If I get my heart broken, it's on me. I have feelings for Joel and he has feelings for me. I’ll deal with the consequences, whatever they might be.”

She stared at you for a long moment before saying quietly. “Okay.” Her white flag was waving and, if nothing else, she was done fighting you on it - for the moment.

A temporary victory. You knew this meant your mother wasn't going to tell your father; not yet. And so you silently thanked her with a closed-mouth smile and took the stairs to take a shower.

***

The picnic had dragged. You checked your phone again and again and again. Joel, you guessed, was refraining from being the one to initiate conversation. You couldn't blame him, and you hoped that was all it was - him being cautious.

What if it's over? You wondered. What if that's it? What if all this scared him off?

Your anxiety got the best of you and you wandered around the side of your house to text him. Your thumbs danced on the screen as you asked how his day was going, if he got in touch with Tommy and if later was still good to meet up.

You chewed on your thumbnail and rounded back into the picnic. It was much to your relief that Cecille hadn't shown up. As the hours ticked by you grew more hopeful that she wouldn't swing by. Still, seeing her car in the driveway next door made your insides twist with a concoction of feelings.

Ding! Your phone sounded off and your head was pulled down like a magnet toward the screen.

Text me a time, Joel texted back to you, remember how to get to the fishing spot?

You typed back without hesitation: Yes. I'll let you know when I'm done here.

All you wanted was to be back with. You wanted to take in his body language, hear his words. You wanted to know that despite what had happened that morning, that everything was alright.

You glanced around the backyard at the scene you would have typically enjoyed. There was a four on four volleyball game going on, two people were playing cornhole, others were talking and laughing around the tables you'd helped your parents set up. Regardless of the smiles, the music, the laughter and the sun shining down on everyone, your smiles were forced and fake.

By the time the last of the guests were waving goodbye, you couldn't wait any longer.

Seven o'clock? You typed to Joel, while helping your parents clean up.

You folded a table in half and began lugging it toward the open bay of the garage. When your phone pinged, you set the table down on the driveway so you could check it.

I'm addicted, you acknowledged. Fuck.

Being head over heels for someone was more than you bargained for. You truly felt addicted to Joel Miller.

I'll be waiting, Joel wrote back.

His words out more pep in your step, and you hurried to lug in the cornhole boards and a second table. Inside, you helped your mother wrap up some of the leftovers and wipe down the countertops before finally hurrying to retrieve your keys and a backpack you prepared.

“Are you going to be home tonight?” Your mother asked. She held your gaze and you shook your head.

“I don't think so “ you told her honestly, “But I'll let you know for sure.” She added, “Is that alright?”

“Like you said, you're twenty-three.” She shrugged. “You can do whatever you want.” Your mother turned toward the sink. “Be careful. And text me.”

“I love you.”

She turned and met your gaze. Despite her outward, quiet concern for the situation she said honestly. “I love you, too.”

On a completely opposite and oblivious note, your father high-fived you by the front door as he entered after putting some things in the garage.

“See ya later, kiddo!”

You smiled to yourself, relieved by his nonchalant demeanor. “See ya later, Dad. Love ya.”

“I love you, too.”

You were out the door a few seconds later, speeding off into the night to meet Joel at your secret location. You needed to see him in the worst way. Despite his agreement to meet, there was doubt that plagued the back of your mind.

What if, what if, what if…

Your foot hit the gas a little harder as you drove from back road to back road until the park came into view. You had to really think to remember a few of the last bends in the road but soon you recognized the wooded area that led down to the lake.

Where is he? Where is he?

Relief filled your core when you saw Joel’s truck in a small clearing. Your stomach filled with butterflies as you pulled up beside him. Joel turned from where he sat in the driver’s seat and he flung his door open almost immediately.

Oh, no, you thought. He has something to say.

Joel looked like a man on a mission. You prepared yourself for the worst. You prepared yourself for the heartache. The other shoe was about to drop. All of a sudden you were scared to get out of the car. Joel's face was too serious. If you just sat there then you wouldn't have to hear his let down.

Stop! You scolded yourself.

You popped open your door and let yourself as Joel rounded the front of your car.

Fuck, he looks good.

Joel was all you thought all about all day - not that that was anything new. He stared at you down with jeans a snug fitting white t-shirt. It hugged his rugged upper in all the right places and your former anxious thoughts were replaced far different ones.

“Hi,” you said to him, folding your hands in front of you.

Joel didn't immediately say anything. He appeared as if he was studying you. You were sure he was far better at it than you were.

He walked the rest of the way to you and you went to speak again.

“Joel, I-” You were cut off when he grabbed your face and kissed you firmly on the lips. You kissed him back, letting your guard down completely in his embrace. Almost immediately it grew heated. Your hands began to wander. He began to snake your shirt up over your head and before you knew it you were nearly naked in the bed of his truck with his body blanketing yours.

“Joel,” you finally choked out, “I want you.”

“I love you,” he voiced in a gruff whisper against your lips before devouring them once more.

“I love you,” you whimpered back. One of your legs hooked around his naked waist and Joel groaned into your mouth.

Everything about the moment was feral and raw and right. Being apart all day amidst the uncertainty and the angst made you needy for one another. As bad as you wanted Joel, you wondered if he wanted you more. It felt impossible, but the way he approached you that evening without even saying a word left you breathless.

Darkness had fully taken over the world when the two of you finished. Even long after your lovemaking was through, your lips touched, your hands explored one another and Joel kissed along your collarbone, neck and shoulders.

Being out in nature completely nude and basking in the afterglow of perhaps the most tender, emotional sex you had ever had was an experience you wouldn't soon forget.

“I was afraid you were going to break things off with me,” you said quietly, kissing Joel’s neck as he closed his eyes beside you.

“I could never do that.”

“Never?” You let your teeth graze his neck as you continued to kiss him there.

“Mmm..” Joel moaned out loud, “Never.”

Laying face-to-face you linked your arm up under his and rested your palm on his shoulder blade. You pulled him close and kissed him. There was no getting enough of Joel. You slipped your tongue past his lips and he eagerly reciprocated. As you made out you felt him harden again against your upper thigh.

“I want you again,” you practically begged, pulling him closer. “Please.” Your hand drifted down to his lower back and Joel rolled his body back on top of yours with your encouragement.

His kiss was smoldering. You pawed your arms around him and tangled a hand in his thick, dark hair. When Joel’s lips parted from yours he kissed down your neck to the tops of your breasts before separating himself from you.

“No,” you begged, pulling him back with a smile as your teeth caught your bottom lip.

Joel satisfied you with a sloppy, closed-mouth kiss. “I'm just reaching inside for some blankets,” he explained, whispering against your lips. Joel pried open the back window on his truck and grabbed a small stack of blankets from the back seat.

You adjusted so he could place a few down on the truck bed and then laid back down flat and pulled him back to you.

Your bodies connected immediately as his lips crashed back against yours. When your lips finally parted to take a breath, you gasped out the words, “Don't leave me.”

Why was this such a problem for you? Even Joel, himself, saying he would never leave wasn't convincing enough. You were too deep into it emotionally and it was making you a wreck inside.

Joel, patient as ever, brought his lips to your ear. “You're mine.” His teeth latched onto your ear lobe and he swirled his tongue around the area. “All mine.”

Your head dropped back in pleasure and you dug your fingers into his back.

New kink unlocked.

@mellymbee @pedropascal111 @axshadows @mybritishstyle @untamedheart81 @amyispxnk @goodvibesonly421 @cosmic006533-blog @ashleyfilm @maybetomorrowgirl @rebeccawinters @cuteanimalmama @vickie5446 @writlingerz @drewharrisonwriter @churchofjoemiller

[colorquest]

~☆~

D: Hey, hey, how much you wanna bet I can jump from the ladder to that chest without getting hurt? D: I'll land on all fours. M: I'm not sure I really want to bet anything on that, D... S: If there's anyone who could do that, it'd be you Debbie. D: Okay both of those answers are useless to me. D: Vilmr can you at least pretend you don't believe I'll make it so I can rub it in your face when I do? V: ... 🔆 D: Vilmr? S: You look deep in thought Vilmr, what's on your mind? V: I am just starting to wonder... V: If maybe we should ask Maja, if we should be streaming this. D: Are you serious. M: Do you mean from a legal standpoint, or...? V: I am thinking more about our karma. V: What if we are attracting bad company, observing this as skeptics? D: Well then you shouldn't have to worry because you're not the one seeing it. V: I can worry for your safety too, you know. S: It's nice of you to worry for us Vilmr, but I think it's alright. D: Yeah a million jillion people have seen eclipses before and ended up okay. D: Probably. D: I mean how else would we be here right now. V: Mmh... V: Maybe...

S: Oh hey, I know we can't tonight, but... S: You know what'd be fun tomorrow night? D: What? S: We should play night tag again! 🔆 S: Since the moon's so new it'll still be extra dark out. S: I know how much you like night tag Vilmr! V: Only if it's not in the woods this time! V: I hate it when Debbie hides in the trees. V: We can never find her! D: Hey okay, nobody ever said it was against the rules. V: Well I want it to be against the rules now. D: Pssh. D: Not my fault I'm super smart and think like, five steps ahead. S: Well, we could fly down somewhere more wide open if Yuan is around tomorrow night? D: Fuuuuuuuck yes, I'd be so down. M: Oh, I don't think I can tomorrow. S: *gasp* S: Oh my gosh right, tomorrow is your first night at the comic shop isn't it? M: Yeah, but I don't mind if you guys go ahead without me! D: Excuses, excuses... D: If you're scared of getting owned just say so. M: You got me, D. M: My job is just an elaborate ploy to avoid losing at tag. S: Well maybe we could save it for another day and go comic shopping instead? :> D: What the heck, are we gonna be shopping for like, hours? D: We could still play night tag, like, we can do both-- OH! D: Ohhhhh, if we do go though, Michael you BETTER remember to bring that hat. M: Haha, of course D.

S: *yawwwwwn* S: Vilmr, you still seem pretty agitated, are you that worried? V: What do you think? D: I'm not even gonna get innnnnnto this anymore! D: Honestly I think it's just so stupid silly. D: If you don't even believe in this stuff for real, what is even your reasoning this time? V: Debbie, just because I do not worship a moon god does not mean I do not believe in bad karma. V: With or without gods, things are always at play in this universe. V: It is not stupid, not to me. V: What happens if it really is a bad omen? V: What if we're doing something really dumb right now? V: Just to say you got to see it? D: Jeez Vilmr, you gave me your cell so you could avoid talking like this! D: I might as well be replaying Maja's voicemail, you two sound so similar. V: You are impossible! M: Vilmr, we're not the only ones watching this livestream.🔆 M: I'm seeing there's at least another fifty on the same page. M: Do you think they're in trouble too? V: Yes, I do. V: I'm really starting to think this stream shouldn't be up in the first place. V: There is a reason why this eclipse is in such a remote part of the planet. V: Think about it. V: The only places this can even be observed at all are either in the middle of the emptiest ocean in the whole world, or on the furthest edge of all of Halvma. V: Nobody even lives there. V: It's almost like nobody's meant to be seeing this one. S: What do you think is going to happen, Vilmr?

V: I! V: I do not know. V: But it feels like something bad. V: The air is biting all around me, I can feel it. S: Vilmr, I don't mean this in any sort of judgemental way or anything, but... S: You tend to say these kinds of things about a lot of things. S: And things usually end up alright. V: Ah, but see you fail to realise, you use the keyword: "usually." V: As in, not always. V: Sometimes, things still go bad. M: ...you do seem to have some pretty impressive foresight from time to time, I have to give it to you. V: Thank you. D: Okay well nothing's gonna stop me from watching this, sorry not sorry. D: If it means I'll die, at least I did it watching something cool, right Samantha? S: ... D: .........Smumantha...... S: Well now I'm nervous! V: And there is good reason for this! D: Well duh, you scared her into feeling that way! D: -_-!!! M: Okay, I know I complimented your foresight just now Vilmr but I really do think it's... a bit of a stretch? M: This time, I mean. M: Like, uh, aside from the fact that this might be legally dubious, D: enough with that already we gettttt it we get it. M: I think we'll be okay. M: It's not like we're actually seeing it in real life, you know? M: It's just a projection of it, after all. S: Oh, I guess that's a good point. D: Literally such a good point, probably the best point you've ever made actually Michael. V: Blughghhhhhh...

D: It's already about to start anyways, huhuhuhUAHAH!!! S: Ahhh no okay I'm still scared! M: It's just a video Samantha, nothing divine about that! V: Maja förlåt miggggggg... D: No turning back now, scaredyturds!

<[Last] || [Next]>

[softpascalito]

Dulcissima I Marcus Acacius x Vestal!Reader I Chapter III

! This Fic contains major spoilers for Gladiator II ! Proceed with caution !

Pairing: Marcus Acacius x Vestal Virgin Reader Rating: Explicit / MDNI Word count: 6.5k+ Tags: Secret Relationship, Vestal Virgins, Religious Guilt, Gladiator fights, Gladiator II compliant (more or less), Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Ancient Rome, Age Difference, Slow Burn (ish), Injury, Kissing, Historical Inaccuracy, More tags to be added (!)

AO3 // Series Masterlist // Masterlist // Fic Playlist

notes: ! last major spoiler warning for gladiator II below the cut !

we finally get a little glimpse into the life of the vestals in this chapter. i'm trying to write this in a way that requires no prior knowledge of them, but if it sounds interesting to you, i'd highly recommend reading up on them, it's very interesting! also wanted to mention from here on we will dive into how acacius and our vestal get to know each other (until we reach the plot of gladiator II again). enjoy! <3

vestal (vigins) - priestesses of vesta, virgin goddess of Rome's sacred flame dulcissima - sweetest (fond nickname) vero - yes paludamentum - a cloak worn by high ranking military officials bonam noctem - good night

Chapter III

211 AD

You whisper small apologies under your breath as you carefully pierce the needle through Acacius' skin, feeling him tremble under your touch. “Only one more, then I am done. I promise,” you mumble, casting an anxious glance at his face and the cold sweat building on his forehead. “Take a deep breath. Stay with me, vero?”

He nods, his voice rumbling deep in his chest when he speaks up. “I always stay with you.”

“That is not what I meant,” you mumble back and wince as he tenses at the last stitch. You quickly tie the loose ends of the thread together and lift the wet rag to his arm again, wiping down the fresh blood that's trickling from the wound. It’s not too much but you do not need to be a medicus to know that he has lost too much of it today.

Your hands shake as you reach for your gown, ripping a long shred off it. Acacius raises his head at the noise, staring at you. “What is this for?”

“What do you think it is for? That wound cannot stay unprotected.” You reach around his arm, beginning to tightly wrap the linen around it, soon covering the red stains that slowly appear on the first few layers. You have seen him wounded–in fact, you can barely recall a time where he has been completely healthy. But you haven't seen him so weak before. His head keeps drooping, like he will fall asleep in his seated position in mere moments.

With a satisfied nod you tie the bandage into place, nudging the General's shoulder as you make to stand. “Acacius.”

Soft brown eyes stare up at yours, a sliver of something odd in them. It only lasts a moment–then he shakes his head as if to get rid of the ill feeling settling over his body. “You have to go.”

“I cannot leave you alone when you are like this. You need someone to watch over you. You’ve lost blood and the wound–” You are cut off by a strong arm curling around your waist, pulling you down onto his lap like it costs him no effort at all. At least he is limiting his movements to his unwounded arm.

“Acacius–” Before you have a chance to speak properly, his lips crash onto yours. The kiss tastes of blood and wine and desperation. You do not have it in you to put up any resistance, instead letting him take what he so clearly needs in this moment. Your hand creeps up his chest, ghosting over his red tunic and the exposed skin of his neck until you reach his hair. A small sigh travels from your mouth into his quite involuntarily when one of his soft curls wraps around your index finger. The world could crash and burn around you. He would still find time to press his lips onto yours, to hold you tight.

When he pulls back, you’re both panting, his chest rising and falling next to you. His arm is still wrapped tightly around your waist and you reach for his hand, intertwining it with your free one. A squeeze is his immediate response. His eyes fly back and forth between your eyes and you can practically feel his words coming. You’re half tempted to kiss him again, just to keep him from speaking.

“Dulcissima, I need you to listen to me.” You open your mouth to argue but he gives a firm shake of his head. “No. There is no time. I need you to take the path at the back of the house. Go back to the Temple. If anything happens–”

“What would happen?” You interrupt, your voice shaking slightly. Your stomach lurches slightly as you think back to what he has told you mere weeks before. His troops, that will be landing in Ostia and marching towards Rome.

“If there are riots–”

“No. I'm not leaving you. Not now,” you choke out, raising your voice slightly. It echoes eerily in the otherwise silent atrium. You know your tears are as imminent as the riots outside the door.

“If there are riots–” Acacius repeats, and you hate how controlled and stern his voice sounds. You aren't one of his soldiers. Yet he speaks to you like one. You’re ready to follow him no matter where he goes. But he is not your General. “–I will personally make sure some of our best soldiers are sent to protect you and the others. We have always protected the Vestals with our lives, you know we have.”

A choked sound leaves your throat because he is already speaking like a man who doesn't plan to return in the morning. Acacius pulls you in closer, wrapping both arms around your trembling form. His dried blood leaves stains on the linen of your white dress. No matter how careful he is with his hands, he always leaves you stained. Red, no matter where he goes. He turns flourishing cities into battlefields and their citizens into grievers. Wives into widows, children into orphans.

No more.

“Rome will fall. Won’t it?” You whisper into his chest and you feel him sway slightly as he shakes his head. He takes a deep breath before nudging your head back just enough to press his forehead against yours.

“No. The Emperors will fall. Rome will rise out of their ashes.”

His face tells you that he is speaking the truth. And this is precisely what scares you. “I want to stay with you. You cannot make me leave,” you whimper, squeezing his hand so tight that it must hurt. He presses one last kiss to your forehead before nudging you up with his leg, forcing you to stand again.

“Truthfully, I cannot make you. I can only ask.” A sad smile decorates his lips as he looks up at you, his eyes gone soft. “Besides, it is bad luck to touch someone marked for death, dulcissima. You of all people should know that.”

***

209 AD

You carefully balance the slender pot of water between your hands, the ceramic cold against your fingertips. Tending to the herb garden is one of your preferred duties, allowing you to feel the warmth of the sun on your skin while you work. The temple is never cold, not with the fire of Rome burning in its middle. But the longer your shifts become, the more weary you become of the lack of the sky and sun above.

Tipping the pot over ever so slightly, you let a thin string of water flow down onto the row of small herbs that stick out of the ground. Your head tilts upward towards a blue sky, just enough to peek over the roof of the house that you and the other Vestals live in, located right next to the temple of Vesta–and conveniently at the foot of Palatine Hill.

You can see the General’s–no, you mentally correct yourself, remembering your conversation with him–Lucilla’s house from here, at least the part that is not hidden by trees. You haven't seen him again since taking his will and storing it safely in one of the upper chambers, labeling it carefully and placing it on its assigned shelf, to be retrieved only in one of two cases–on his command or his death. The thought makes you shiver and you mumble a quiet prayer for him to the earth below you.

You see people, mostly women, come to the temple to pray to Vesta. To ask the goddess of the house and hearth for safety, for enough food on their table, for the health of their family. You pray with them, of course. You pray for each and every citizen of Rome. But you remember what one of the older Vestals said to you when you arrived at the house as a mere child, picked for nearly a lifetime of service.

Her eyes had been kind as she had bent down, adjusting the veil that was still much too big on your form.

“She is not just in the flame, my child. She is in the smoke that rises above and the earth that stretches below. Vesta will always hear you. She will always be near.”

You bow your head towards the earth at that, setting the pot aside to instead place your hands between the green and brown, fingertips grazing the earth that feeds you.

It is one of your tasks to pray for all of Rome, often with a special few words for the soldiers, to ask Vesta for their safe and victorious return. But the image in front of your eyes shifts as you speak the prayer that falls off your lips so naturally. It summons the memory of the gentle, brown eyes that promised you their trust.

Keep him safe.

It is a prayer you repeat over and over again, sending it into the earth as well as the air as you kneel under the roman sun, asking for the gods to hear you.

When you raise your head again, squinting slightly as your eyes adjust once more to the brightness of the day, he is there.

You called on the gods. But it is Acacius who has appeared.

You see him taking slow steps through his garden, one hand outstretched as he lets it brush past the fields of lavender. Your own hand, still tucked into the bed below you, moves against the herbs absent-mindedly as your eyes stay fixed on the small figure above the Forum Romanum.

He’s too far away to make out his expression–or even his face. But the broad shoulders, the red paludamentum, the gentleness with which he carries himself–they all let you know it is Acacius you’re looking at. It’s like he has heard your prayers and instead of waiting for one of the gods to answer, he has taken them upon himself.

It happens more frequently after that. The courtyard garden of the Vestals spans almost the entire length of the house, with two small pools lowered into the ground on each side. You pass around it by day and by night and your gaze flies between the columns and upward more frequently than ever.

Just in passing, of course. Just for reassurance. A constant, a joyful moment when you spot his figure. A pinch of something else in your stomach, something you force yourself to ignore, when you see Lucilla's robes billowing in the wind while she walks beside him. He rarely wears his armour, but when he does, it glistens in the sun, reflecting the rays of light, almost blinding.

You often wonder what he is thinking about. If he is pondering the next campaign, possibly even politics, though you have rarely heard about him being involved in them. He strikes you more as a soldier than a politician. A man as loyal to his army as he is to the Emperors.

“Senator Gracchus told me that they are moving some troops south,” Severa announces as you settle down for your evening meal. She is about your age, having been chosen in the same year as you. And she has taken the most interest in politics out of all the current six priestesses, often volunteering to deliver and pick up scrolls from the palace or the senate to hear the news of the day.

“Did he say why?” You ask as you reach for the carafe of wine, motioning towards her glass and, at her nod, pouring her some. You repeat the motion with your own glass before leaning back again.

“No. But I suppose the people further south are not happy.” Her voice drops slightly as she speaks. “They do not wish to risk an uprising, that I am sure of.” You nod carefully, casting a glance to the other side of the room where the two eldest vestals are taking their meal. It is not your duty to meddle in politics. You are the guardians of the hearth of Rome. Day and night, one of you is always in the temple, watching over the flame. Making sure it does not burn low.

If extinguished, it is not just the fall for the Vestals. It predicts the fall of Rome. So now more than ever, you do your duty carefully.

“May I ask you something?” Severa leans towards you, always keeping one careful eye on the others. Making sure neither of you are drawing attention to yourself.

You nod, adjusting your voice to her level as you set down your glass. “Of course. Is something the matter?”

She gives a quick, short shake of her head. “No, not the matter. I was just curious–” You raise a brow at that, though you both know neither of you mean each other harm. “Curiosity is a dangerous trait for a Vestal.”

“Curiousity is a dangerous trait for any woman,” Severa whispers back, lowering her eyes onto the floor. You understand why. It is not easy to speak ill of something. It is simply not in your nature. It goes against the years of teaching you have sat through. “You brought the will of the General, did you not?”

You feel your cheeks heat slightly at the mention of Acacius and shift onto your side, hoping that the dim light inside the room hides the way your face flushes. “Yes. The first one I collected, actually.”

���You collect Generals now?”

Neither of you can successfully stifle the giggles that follow her question and you quickly bow your head, just as one of the older Vestals calls out to you. “If you are finished with your meal, please retire to your quarters and get some rest.” You both nod, whispering apologies into their direction as you stand up.

“I am to guard the flame tonight,” Severa adds softly and the other of the two women nods.

“Then you may take your fellow priestess to her quarters and head to the Temple after.” You mumble your good nights to the others, walking along the courtyard in silence. The noise of cicadas fills the night that has settled over the valley. When you stop outside the door to your cubiculum, you pause. “Why did you ask about the General?”

For a moment, you think Severa will not answer, her shoulders shrugging slightly as if to dismiss her prior interest. “I heard some of the Senators speak of him. I merely wondered how he seemed to you.”

“Kind,” you blurt out before you can stop yourself. He was kind to me.

Her brows furrow slightly but then she nods, giving you a gentle smile. “I better go and not leave the others waiting. Bonam noctem.”

“Bonam noctem,” you repeat quietly. A few moments later, you pull your door closed behind you and begin to undress. When you crawl into the bed placed near the far end of the room, your mind is already distracted and you allow your thoughts to slip out of the small window and rush up the hill. They settle between a field of lavender and wait for a light to appear in one of the windows of the house, just as you extinguish yours.

! when commenting or reblogging, please make sure to hide spoilers from others !

[evilminji]

OKAY, FIRST? Like the Picture Says...

So!

Here I was, sittin', thinkin', pondering my thoughts. Thing to myself? "How could one? Presumably female, much like myself, Jedi repopul-" and THAT is when my brain, worn and weary, from years of The Internet? SLAMMED its fucking pint down on the bar counter, turned to me with an ugly scowl and sneered?

"You KNOW fucking how. Don't be coy."

( O.O) w-well alright then, brain. Little aggressive. Kinda wondering where you got the knife. I... I'ma just... go... *pint glass is thrown after me, shattering on the door as it just barely misses*

So! Yeah. Birth, probably. But STILL! That's like? Still ONE(1) fuckin Jedi right? And even IF Mr. "I am literally half midi-chlorians by blood" sired two Force Sensitives on his first go? That's no guarantee EVERYONE does?

Unless..... >.> we are taking into account a Force Sensitive RACE. THEN? Oh, THEN? It's not a matter of IF, but HOW MUCH. Enough to hit that arbitrary cut off point? What if you don't care? What if you say "everybody can be a Jedi"? Want to TRUELY spread the Light. Not just to those who are STRONG enough... but to EVERYONE.

There are a few races like that! But! That STILL? Doesn't solve the Puzzle! The Problem! Of how could One(1) VERY determined Jedi lady, who? Presumably is pretty cool with motherhood. Rebuild The Jedi Order, by NOPING™ out before Order 66.

Again, presumably AFTER taking on the role of Creche Master. And AFTER taking all the youngling on a Super Fun Unplanned Don't Tell The Other Grown Ups Suprise Feild Trip~☆ (yaaaaay!)(who wants snacks! Everybody got their travel bags and buddies? Let's gooooo~☆!)

Cause like? Still need a stable population. And enough Jedi to *obscene gestures multiculturally* at the Sith.

My? Proposal? We turn to the Wisdom of the Monster Fuckers. (Wait wait WAIT! Don't leave! HEAR ME OUT!) I KNOW this sounds like a sex thing! Not a sex thing! It's a "Who said Humanoid Meant Live Birth? Were fucking Aliens, Bro" thing! Just because? Our SI-OC? Was reborn AS a vaguely human shaped sentient?

DOESNT MEAN SHE'S A MAMMAL.

That weird hair color could mark her as some WEIRD, man! Fuck, for all we know she could be a fungus! It's vaguely body horror! You get over it! Adapt to new biology!

Learn?? You lay CLUTCHS. Fuckin EGGS. All baby making is external after the first bit. Something, something, easier to defend against predators. SI-OC doesn't remember that part. There was this high pitched ringing in her head then a thump. She was on the floor. May have fainted. What're you, a cop?

They offer her weird alien birth control.

She takes the birth control.

Learns she is a Rare and Near Extinct Species, a la Master Mundi. Learns it's VERY detrimental to her health to lay clutches. Takes a lot of resources, she can't LEAVE it, so with out a partner or community (or sufficient hoard of food) she WILL starve to death. It HAS happened.

No, seriously, look Mafame Che in the eyes. It HAS happened. And no you CAN'T "push your impulses into the Force". It's a biological imperative. Your body physically won't LET you.

Exactly three options. Babies born, they die, or YOU DIE.

......little intense. Got it. Yes she would like that birth control. She will continue to be both average and forgettable. Pay no attention to the Jedi Creche Master In Training! Oh look! It's kenobi! *yeets fellow jedi under the speeder*

Take some.... research trips >.> <.< >.> which is of course totally not scouting out new Temple locations! To the Wild Zone. Mmmmm, no one for WEEKS by hyperdrive! It's so calm out here!

Only took, like, 278 different planets scouted! To find the right one.

*starts building dwellings.* *starts directing "too old" Force Sensitives or Families that want to stay together and are willing to move, towards the location.*

New secret Jedi planet? Whaaaaat? Nooooooo. That would be illegal. Jedi can't break RULES! Don't be silly. Oh? Is that Skywalker? *same Speeder, new jedi. YEET!*

But WAIT! The War Approachth! D:> upsetting. Better get ready to give that "we totally need to Hide The Babies For War Reasons" presentation she has prepared. But FIRST?

A clutch. Got a transport pod ready to go. Got food stockpiled. Got the birth control out. Now? Just need a male! Too uh... contribute.

.......look, she wants her legion of tiny jedi babies okay? They glow like STARS. Everything is BETTER with them around. And she's kinda come around to this whole... disgusting slime... goo... Thing™. Cause I mean? At LEAST it's not pushing one OUT! ( o7 Padme, you have her respect. But also you are a madwoman.)

The Healers, are of course, FROTHING at the mouth.

YOU DUMB MOTHER FUCKER. They hiss, like healing and very concerned paragons of needle weilding fury. Where the FUCK are you going to just? GET?? A male of you INCREDIBLY RARE AS FUCK Species? You damn near dead and no longer existent species??!? You have DELIBERATELY put yourself in EXTREME medical distress! For WHAT?! Did you HAVE a plan!?

Yeah. :3 I call it Pulling a Yoda's Linage *Yoda ears move from Concern, to Intrigued*

*click*

..........what was that. Jedi SI-OC, What Was That?? *comms start blowing up* What did you just DO?

Oh :3c simple. She asked. It's the only polite thing to DO after all. She DOES need assistance. Surely someone would be willing to offer. If they can. How? You may ask?? Why look so CONCERNED Councilors! She simply assumed, that? Since there is no way of KNOWING where in the Galaxy surviving members of her Race are? And time IS of the essence? She SHOULD reach as wide an audience as she can, as FAST as she can... RIGHT?

>:3c so, of course, she posted her request to the Holonet.

Video and all.

"Grettings, I am Jedi SI-OC. I am an [race] and currently a Creche Master here at the Jedi Temple of Coruscant. I require the assistance of a healthy, willing Male of my species, as I have laid a clutch. And wish to have it fertilized. I would like to have children. We would, of course, discuss co parenting the children before beginning. I have, attached, further details. Thank you for your time. May the Force be with you"

Sexiest shit a LOT of people for egg laying races have seen in years. Well... those with Very Specific Jedi Kinks. Of course, no one ADMITS to jedi kinks. But like... you've thought about it. Don't lie. Everyone's thought about it. It's them and the Mandalorians.*commiserating noises*

But like? The NEWS CYCLE.

Holy SHIT.

Yeah, yeah, tensions and possible succession from the Republic. Sith plots in the background. But? *new casters violently clear their planned segments for THIS* JEDI? Horny on main!? Is THIS ALLOWED? IS this horny? What race is that? C-can other people volunteer? And if so, who? We take to the streets! Sir, what's your opinion on-?

OUTTA MY WAY, I'MMA BANG A JEDI! *frenzied mob like behavior*

*temple guards, unnamused.* back! BACK! Horny jail! For ALL OF YOU!

Just?? It's? So, SO? Important to me? That their are Mandalorian [race] that show up. Because the need to repopulate their people is more important then *scrunch nose* Jedi(ew). That it becomes the Galaxy's hottest Bachelorette show. WHO? Amongst these Fine And Acomplished Men? Will the Jedi CHOOSE? To have babies with! They ask.

And, presumably, marry and learn the power of family and friendship and emotions and be HEALED by LOVE etc etc.

There are shipping charts. It's horrifying. The talk shows LOVE it.

Council? Day drinking. Except for Mundi. He's just like "....but did you HAVE to you they Holonet? It's so MESSY >:/ everyone's in our BUSINESS now." Cause he's not a hypocrite. Grumpy asshole? Absolutely. But not a hypocrite.

Just? The single most "....who?" Jedi ever. Causing the BIGGEST fuss. Right at the worst possible moment, for Sidious. Causing an explosion of glee and hope and laughter etc, all across the Galaxy. Good feeling towards the Jedi. EVERYBODY talking about them. There's gonna be HUNDREDS more!

If she does this AGAIN (in a decade. Madame Che was NOT joking on the stress it puts on the body) there could be thousands new Jedi over the coming years! (Probably why the Sith fuckin wiped them OUT, not that she thinks about it. Fuckers. Who's laughing NOW?! Huh? WHO LAUGHING NOW?!)

Again! Very, unspeakably Ace. Not a sex thing. I just think I'd be funny? That the Forces answer to The Evil Sith plan was... Babies™.

What are we? Fuckin YODA?

@babbling-babull @hdgnj @legitimatesatanspawn @spidori @hypewinter @mayfay

[taniahylian]

Sonetto was reversed by the storm

Okay, I know it sounds crazy like most of my theories tbh, but hear me out, cuz there's a lot of evidence for this one. And I do mean A LOT, especially since they changed the dialogue of the Prologue to be better translated, although I suspected it even before I checked out the new version.

So, first of all, let's talk teleport floppy discs.

The new dialogue emphasizes that the one Regulus steals was the last one Sonetto and her team had with them. You could deduce it before, with the old dialogue, but it wasn't as obvious as this. One of the investigators even tells Sonetto that they'll have to go back on foot, after Regulus steals it.

Now, this particular piece of dialogue is weird because we all know that being caught up in the Storm actually means you get reversed, but I assume the female investigator here meant that, if someone catches the Storm Syndrome, they're descualified as an investigator, which makes sense, since we also know the symptoms get stronger and stronger the closer we're to the actual Storm.

Still, the point is that it's urgent that they go back, and Sonetto even agrees, sending her team back to headquarters at this point. However, she stays to search for Regulus.

But, after Regulus escapes a second time (thanks to Vertin in this case), Sonetto still insists that she'll go find her, at which point Vertin actually seems quite worried about her.

She also emphasizes that if Sonetto doesn't go back now, it'll be too late. Still, Sonetto recklessly continues searching, and by the time she finally accepts that she has to go back to headquarters and abandon the mission, only ten minutes are left... although in-game it actually seems more like 10 seconds. But, even if it actually was ten minutes, that hardly seems enough time to get out of London and to wherever the Foundation is, especially considering that all employees returning from the Storm have to wait in line to get in, and many don't make it.

It's at this point that Sonetto runs off and we don't see her again until we summon her at the spinning wheel (and I'll get to that in a moment), but I'd like to point out to a scene in a trailer that was never released in their official global channel. We see the storm of 1966, which we can recognize for the cartoon patterns everywhere, as well as the café Regulus was hiding at, and caught in this storm we see... Sonetto, getting reversed.

But I hear you, Sonetto can't be reversed, right? She's still here, in the suitcase! Yes, but... How exactly did she get into the suitcase?That's right; through the spinning wheel, which has... some interesting connections to the storm.

So, the "lake" is actually made of rainwater from the storm, not normal water. Not only that, but now we know that it has that weird hallucinogenic fog that makes people fall asleep (except Vertin) and grants immunity to the Storm, just like the Aperion cave. And that's not even the only evidence here.

When you summon someone, you can see as the drops of water begin to rise from the lake, just like when the Storm happens. My theory here is that the spinning wheel isnt't able to summon anyone, but only people who were reversed by the Storm and that Vertin knew personally. Why do I say that? Because when she summons Sonetto, the game describes it as the line "forming a path on her mind", and I bet at that point in time Vertin was actually worrying about wether Sonetto had made it to safety or not, which is why she was the one summoned.

Also, let's remember that, although the wheel is part of the gatcha mechanic, Sonetto is, canonically, the only character we know for certain that has been obtained by this method. In most other cases, the game actually goes out of its way to explain how they joined Vertin and/or the Foundation (the exception being those we don't know about yet).

Also, if this is indeed the case; if the spinning wheel actually brought Sonetto back from being reversed... it did much more than that. It rewrote history so that Sonetto was never reversed. Why do I say that? Because Sonetto already had the mission capsule with her, which she had supposedly obtained in the Chicago office, and had also spoken to Madam Z and the commitee and been informed of her new post as the Timekeeper's assistant... all of this in less than half an hour? And right after the Storm too?

Doesn't seem possible, does it? Especially since the headquarters, where Sonetto was headed before the Storm, are in Europe, while the Chicago office is, well, in Chicago. To me, it's a lot more plausible that the wheel rewrote history so that, in Sonetto's memory at least, all of this happened in the past 24 hours instead of the mission to register Regulus in. Although she still remembered Regulus because it's implied that Sonetto and her team had been following her for a while.

Anyways, what do you think? Too crazy? XD

Someday I'll write my theories from the inside of the Laplace Rehabilitaion Center, I swear lol.

[revleftshark]

Rio whistled to herself as she walked along the path to the Harkness Homestead, glancing behind her to make sure Lambert and Chèvre were keeping pace. The two goats had a tendency to wander off the path to chomp down on delicious greens. Greens she needed to collect and process for Agatha and Nicky before the seasons changed. Especially the bloodroot - she needed to make lozegnes for the cough Nicky would inevitably develop in winter and keep enough for the tea she made sure to have on hand to sooth Agatha's menstrual cramps when they were particularly egregious.

The prior owner of the two goats had been a witch whose soul she collected not hours before. The old hag had outright demanded she take care of both her beloved goats before she agreed to cross into the hereafter.

(Really she just asked who would tend to them with her passing. Rio had promised she and her family would.)

What was she to do but acquiesce to a dead woman's last request?

She rounded the bend, reaching out to touch the maple tree that stood not forty feet from their home. It was the very first thing Agatha and she had ever planted together.

Long before their son came along.

Her four legged companions bleeted and shuffled nervously, pulling Rio's eyes to them immediately.

"Oh no. No! Absolutely not! Rio!" Rio turned towards the source of their dismay - her witch was marching towards her in a fluffy purple robe and her purple rain boots. "Nope. No ma'am. Turn around and escort them off this property!"

"Sweetheart?"

"No goats," Agatha crossed her arms once she was in front of her wife.

Rio's brows pinched in confusion, "but we already have goats."

Agatha nodded, "correct. Six. We're not adding two more."

"Why not? Goats like other goats."

The Salemite witch shook her head, curls flying as they escaped her messy bun. "No. I already have to buy too much feed, especially with winter coming up."

"But mi vida... look at them. They're useful! They'll help keep the property maintained." (They're cute).

They had enough land - acres upon acres in the middle of nowhere.

"They're a pair of bucks. They don't even produce milk, thank the gods - I'm up to my eyes in goats milk and cheese. I'm giving it away at this point!"

"Their owner died. And Nico loves goats."

Agatha’s hands were going to her hips. Eyes were narrowing. Her brows were pinching.

Bad signs.

"And sheep. And ducks. And geese. And chickens. And horses. And pigs." Agatha nearly snarled. "Pigs! Rio! Pigs!"

Rio was absolutely fascinated by the sparks of purple magic escaping the ends of her wife's chaotic bun. Her attention snapped back to Agatha's mouth and eyes. Now was not the time to get distracted, "you liked Hamitha!"

"Of course I liked Hamitha. When she weighed 12 pounds! Pigs get big!"

"Ah, mi vida! How big could she possibly be? 50 pounds now?"

"She's 650 pounds! Where do you think all my bruises came from?"

"She hurt you?! Ven acá maldito cabró-" Agatha put a finger to her lips, silencing her.

"You ate her already."

Death's eyes widened in shock, "por que!?"

"Where do you think all that pork came from in the freezer!? Dinner last night? I think I remember it word for word," she pulled her hand back, putting it to her own chest dramatically. "Ay bendito, mi vida. I would marry you again if I could." Agatha fanned herself and batted her eyelashes.

"I do not sound like that," it came out whinier than she meant to. "And I don't do that!"

The glare coming from Agatha's icy gaze almost made her sulk. Almost. "Yes. You do. Do you know how much feed costs? How much feed I need to have on hand for winter?"

Rio frowned at that - she honestly still didn't have a working knowledge of things like that. Sure she brought home plenty of cash - bodies didn't need cash after their souls were escorted to the hereafter. And it wasn't really desecration of a corpse - she had a checklist for that.

"144 dollars! Just for goats. That's 1 to 2 pounds of feed per goat. Pigs eat so much more and we have 5 of those! It was 6! 4 geese, 8 ducks and 22 chickens, Rio! Do you know how many eggs we get daily? Too many!"

"Goats!"

Agatha's eyes fluttered shut and she grimaced, missing the smile that quickly overtook Rio's face. "Oh no." They both knew the other witch could never truly deny their son anything.

"Mami! You brought new friends home! What are their names?" Their son bounded over, brown eyes alight with excitement.

Rio shrugged her shoulders innocently, "we'll figure something out?" The Purple Witch groaned and nodded, both women focusing entirely on the boy. "I did! Their names are Lambert and Chèvre."

"I'll take them to meet the others!" He held his hand out expectantly and Rio handed over both leads.

"We're having mutton for Yule." Agatha muttered, allowing Rio to take her hand and lead her into their home where she most definitely was going to need another cup of coffee.

And a concha.

i was supposed to log off tumblr and start preparing for my next exam but i saw bumble's question game with aubrey plaza and i wanted to come on here and say

THIS IS LITERALLY RIO WITH NICKY'S DEMON GOAT/GOATS, A COW AND 2 PUPPIES

SOMEONE PLEASE WRITE A ONESHOT OF RIO BRINGING HOME DIFFERENT TYPES OF ANIMALS FOR NICKY AND AGATHA BEING PISSED ABOUT IT

[mental69er]

bottom!victoria neuman who we absolutely destroy with our strap

Made this into a little holiday type ficlet

content: thanksgiving, the turkey is not the only thing getting stuffed, bottom victoria, fem reader with a strap, nsfw

The groan that Victoria let out as you fully sunk into her was heavenly. A true feast to your ears, better than the one that awaited your stomach once the turkey was done cooking.

Given how busy her schedule was, having the day off for Thanksgiving was a blessing. It meant the two of you could spend time together cooking, eating, relaxing, and fucking.

And oh, how you've missed her. Missed her moans, the way her hips would cant up into you as she begged for more of your strap but there was no more length to go.

"Easy," you told her, peppering the side of her face with kisses. You had her pinned under you, using the muscles you had spent hours shaping up, knowing how much it turned her on to be under you like this.

"Please," she gasped out, trying to move her hips into yours to start you up. You did not let her, taking your time to run your nose down the side of her neck, to nip and suckle at the skin there, enjoying the way her pulse thudded under your ministrations.

"I've been waiting so long," she told you, looking over her shoulder, those brown eyes of her pleading with you. "Don't I deserve it?"

"You do," you assured her, leaning in to kiss her lips. You wouldn't tease her for too long. You couldn't afford any of the food to get burned. Relenting, you leaned off of her, hands on her hips, bringing her up a bit.

She grabbed the blankets under her, already ready to be fucked thoroughly. You did not disappoint.

You pulled out quickly, leaving only the tip of the toy inside, before slamming back in. Quickly, harshly, with all the might you had, rocking her forwards slightly. There would be no mercy.

Like a well oiled machine, you pumped into her, hitting all the spots inside her you knew drove her crazy. She was very vocal, unable to contain her sounds as she writhed under you. Your grip on her hips kept her steady, using your thumbs to spread her lower lips apart and allow you to open her up a bit more for your strap. 10 inches of girthy and ribbed plastic that glistened with strands of arousal.

She moaned over and over, eyes closing shut, losing herself to this. Forgetting aboout work and other stressors, when all she could feel was the harsh thud of your strap against her insides, making her back arch up with pleasure.

"Such a good girl for me. Taking me so well," you praised her and she groaned happily, thrusting her hips back in time. Her thighs were shaking, and wetness leaked out between her lower lips, pattering onto the blanket with each back and forth of your toy. You could feel her insides gripping tightly, tugging you in, making it hard to move without stutter. She was so needy for you.

It only made you thrust even harder, breathing hard through your nose as focused solely on getting her off.

"So desperate for my cock, so needy," you told her.

"Yes," she whined.

"I bet you'd want it inside you 24/7, fucking you."

She whimpered at this, clinging onto the blankets harder.

"You look good like this, bent over, ass up," you puffed out, the speed at which you were going starting to take its toll on you. You could feel her clenching around your toy.

"Getting utterly stuffed," you told her, your own arousal climbing as you saw the way her lips were utterly stretched around the strap, turning red from friction. Wet squelching noises accompanied your actions as she only got wetter and wetter.

She was going to cum soon and it had been barely ten minutes. She really must need this. You would be sure to give her all the orgasms she needed today. To show her how thankful and grateful you were for her.

"Only by you," she breathed out, chest heaving, mouth parting in silent want. "Only ever you."

The sweet but possessive nature of that made your chest glow warm.

"I want to see your face as you cum," you told her, briefly pulling out. She groaned in disappointment at you stopping right before she hit the crest, but the groan turned into a gasp as you turned her around, speared her back on the plastic cock and pulled her into your lap.

You pressed a soft kiss to her lips, gently gyrating the strap into her, encouraging her to ride. She crossed her arms behind your head and your hands on her hips helped with leverage. She wasted no time in riding you to completion, needing three sharp drops into your lap, bottoming out on the strap each time before her wetness gushed over your lap.

It was hot and sticky and her head lolled back, nails digging into your neck as her body was rocked with small tremors. She was always so beautiful like this and you smiled into her neck, wanting her between your thighs.

That, would have to wait.

Confused, you turned your head in the direction of the kitchen.

"Do I smell burning?"

Victoria's eyes shot wide open. "Oh shit, the turkey!"

[melmedarda]

I’m sorry to jump in your inbox with that long af rant, but I’ve been lurking and loving every Meljay post of yours since day one and I need to scream in the void.

I’m inconsolable over how bad the writing of acts 2 and 3 was, it literally feels like it was written by a completely different team. What even was that conversation, it sounded like they asked ChatGPT to write a scene based on top 50 tweets about Mel and Jayce after 1x05 aired back in the days.

I’ve never in 15 years seen a ship so cruelly ruined, because how are people supposed to continue at all tolerating Jayce with that idiotically out of character dialogue in 2x08 between him and Mel? What a fucking bad way to treat fans, having them invested all the way until literally the last moment, it already was bad with how the majority of people (fandom, reactors, obviously the artists too) were “interpreting” Mel (if you can even call it that, cause interpretation requires media literacy), but now they have left us so burnt that I'm betting there aren’t even going to be fix-it fics because they. Just. Ruined. Jayce, so bad. And I still love the well written (still flawed tho!) Jayce from 3x01 (setting up a way more natural conflict-to-be-resolved path when he made those weapons five minutes after Mel vowed to protect his dream), but damn, I love Mel so much more, I really don’t know how to cope with all that. Only people who’ve had the luck to not have been treated as that husk of an AU Jayckass treated our girl can’t see the amount of PTSD that scene can trigger in a woman. I am so frustrated with how the creators treated her trauma and slashed the wounds wide open with both that and “You are the wolf”, I genuinely don’t know how to cope.

And the worst part is all of this could have been resolved with a single touch and him being open to her – like he always have been – just tell her he’s doomed instead of showing us a highly specific and unrelated two frames of the voidy-looking infection on his forearm spreading every time he is on screen. Even if that is one of their “yes we meant that all along we just wanted to show not tell it” like with the whole idiotic Sky/Viktor backstory that Overton “spilled” the other day. Jayce has been able to see through Mel’s shields the moment he saw her painting and was always shown to admire her intellectual prowess, he’d never leave her hanging like that.

If they wanted to write a Shakespearean tragedy so bad they made this intro scream “look at us, we gave you Greek last time, now it’s all about good ol’ Billy” why not have Jayce make the same impossible choice (as they brilliantly and am starting to think accidentally?) made Silco do in 1x09, having him choose between his love for Zaun and his love for Jinx, drawing one final parallel between the two men and closing that loop with Jayce/Silco carrying Viktor’s/Jinx’s body and infusing them with the deus ex machina. It was right there staring them at their faces, have Jayce choose between his love for Mel and his love for his brother.

What a spectacular failure of writing, what an even more monumental failure of the artists to come out with those comments, so now I don’t even want to praise their talent, because they should have kept their mouths fucking shut and stuck to drawing.

Sorry to dump this in your ask, can you tell I’m still reeling.

Please, please, do you have any headcanons, I need crumbs, I need to heal my soul and Mel’s.

Lovely anon you've but into words what all Meljay fans are feeling, I think. I cannot lie, I've been trying to let go of the ship. Withdraw sort of, especially since that was the ending we got. But I've had them for three years, and they've sunk their claws too deeply to me. I'm still thinking of them even now. I'm going to make the most of their divorce era, and I'm going to make them return to each other in ever single AU ever. Because Arcane S2 act #3 is not my Meljay. Also, AU Jayckass had me bursting out in laughter!

On the topic of headcanons. I have one in which when Vik tells Jayce to go back, Jayce does. He returns to Piltover but too much time has past, Mel has already burned his name and departed across the waters to Rokrund. Jayce knows he's done her wrong, realizes he's been blinded, and he does his best to atone in Piltover and Zaun, writing letters to Mel. Letters that go unanswered. And then eventually, he goes to Rokrund, and finds a different woman, one stronger and colder than he had known. He loves her anyways, and spends his years winning her back. And when he has groveled sufficiently, Mel takes him back. He sort of grounds her, so that she does not remain the wolf all the time. So that she does not become her mother.

[bandsofmarv]

Better than him

JJ Maybank has always been in love with you, but you chose Rafe Cameron—the worst decision, in his eyes. He always watched from the sidelines that was until he reached his breaking point.

Warnings- not really any jealousy.

The night air was thick with humidity as you walked down the beach, your arms wrapped tightly around yourself. The argument with Rafe still echoed in your ears—his harsh words, the way he’d grabbed your arm before letting you go with a warning.

You spotted JJ sitting on the lifeguard tower, a beer in hand. He looked up as you approached, his expression shifting from surprise to concern the moment he saw your face.

“What the hell happened?” he asked, jumping down to meet you.

“Nothing,” you muttered, brushing past him.

“Don’t give me that,” JJ said, stepping in front of you. “You’re shaking. Did he—did Rafe do something?”

You hesitated, your silence answering for you. JJ’s jaw tightened, his hands balling into fists.

“I can’t keep watching this,” he said, his voice rough with emotion. “I can’t keep watching him hurt you.”

You sat on the sand, staring out at the dark waves. JJ paced in front of you, his usual carefree demeanor replaced by raw frustration.

“You don’t have to stay with him, you know,” he said, running a hand through his hair. “You don’t owe him anything.”

“It’s not that simple,” you said quietly.

“Yes, it is!” JJ snapped, then immediately softened his tone. “Sorry. I just… I don’t get it. Why him? Why not—”

“Why not you?” you finished for him, looking up at him.

JJ froze, his blue eyes locking with yours. He swallowed hard, then dropped to his knees in front of you.

“Yes,” he said, his voice breaking. “Why not me? I’d never hurt you. I’d never make you feel small or scared. I’d—I’d love you the way you deserve to be loved.”

Tears filled your eyes, and you shook your head. “It’s not that simple, JJ. Rafe… he’s different when it’s just us. He can be good—”

“Good doesn’t leave bruises,” JJ interrupted, his voice sharp. “Good doesn’t make you cry, doesn’t make you feel like this.”

You looked away, the truth of his words cutting deep.

“I know you think you love him,” JJ said, his tone softer now. “But love shouldn’t hurt like this. And I can’t—” He broke off, his voice trembling. “I can’t stand by and watch him destroy you. Please, just… leave him. Be with me. Let me show you what it’s supposed to feel like.”

JJ reached for your hand, his touch gentle.

“I’d do anything for you,” he said. “You know that, right?”

You nodded, tears spilling over. “I know.”

“Then trust me,” he whispered. “Trust that I can be better for you. That I’ll never let anyone hurt you again.”

Your heart ached at the sincerity in his voice, the way his eyes begged you to believe him. You wanted to. God, you wanted to. But leaving Rafe felt impossible—like trying to escape a storm that followed you everywhere.

“I don’t know how,” you admitted, your voice barely audible.

JJ cupped your face, his thumbs brushing away your tears. “You don’t have to know. Just take my hand, and we’ll figure it out together.”

For a moment, you let yourself imagine it—a life with JJ, free from Rafe’s shadow. It felt like breathing for the first time in years.

“I have to go,” you said, pulling away from JJ.

“No,” he said, standing as you did. “Don’t go back to him. Please.”

“I don’t have a choice,” you said, your voice trembling.

“You always have a choice,” JJ said, desperation lacing his words. “Choose me. Please, just once… choose me.”

You hesitated, your heart caught between the life you knew and the life you wanted.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, turning away.

JJ watched you go, his heart breaking as the waves swallowed the sound of your footsteps.

———————————————————————

Later that night

You sat in Rafe’s car, his hand gripping your thigh as he drove. His apologies came in waves—sweet words meant to soothe the wounds he’d inflicted.

But all you could think about was JJ—the way he’d looked at you, like you were worth saving and for the first time, you wondered if he might be right.

[xxlady-lunaxx]

ik i was gonna write the shinazugawa’s realizing the other actually cares but. what about their first meeting after their mother dies?

by now, both of them are demon slayers. sanemi’s a hashira, his mood a constant low. he gets a mission of sorts, just to save a bunch of mizunotos who’ve gotten themselves in trouble with a lowermoon. he arrives and, per usual, tracks down the demon immediately. it’s a relatively weak one, being lower four, and he’s quick to kill it. he does a surveillance around the place, checking to make sure there aren’t any other demons before beginning to make his leave. the kakushi would be dealing with the injured and the dead.

as he starts to make his way out, ending up having to cut through a group of younger slayers, his gaze catches onto a familiar face. most of the mizunotos are cowering, a bit afraid of him, but his attention is on a boy in the back who hasn’t yet noticed his presence. genya.

almost like the name had been spoken, genya’s head lifts. sanemi freezes, his mind short circuiting before he can formulate the thought that he should leave. but it’s too late by the time he’s registered his own panic because genya has recognized him, his eyes wide, his mouth slightly agape. noticing the silent interaction, some of the other slayers look from genya to sanemi in confusion. one of them, who was in the process of handing genya a roll of bandages, pauses and glances at sanemi.

“do you know him?” he asks. it’s his question that brings them both from their stupor.

genya’s mid-nod before sanemi interjects, his voice harsh and loud, cutting straight through the white-noise bustling around them. he’s overdone it with his volume, but he doesn’t care, even as eyes begin to watch.

“i don’t. i’d mistaken him for someone else, i don’t know him,” he says firmly. it’s a bit too forced to seem true, but nobody pushes it.

except genya, who flinches at his words, looking like a wounded puppy. he pushes through the group of slayers as sanemi hurries to leave. he’s too slow, unable to catch up with sanemi’s suddenly quick pace. but he makes do with his voice, shouting, “aniki, wait-!”

without thinking, sanemi snaps back, “you’re not my brother! i don’t fucking know you!”

though he doesn’t turn around, he can tell genya’s stopped chasing after him. there’s a sort of quiet around them, although it’s not truly silent. as if every sound was dimmed. sanemi doesn’t know why he said that. but he’s already gone by the time his own words catch up to him. he hadn’t meant them. yes, he refused to let genya talk to him, even now, but… that? he hadn’t meant it.

before he knew it, he was back at home. despite having just returned from a mission, he’s quick to get to the training room, grabbing what he needs and starting without warming up. he’s angry at himself, it seems. for running away like a coward. but also, genya had been in uniform. the demon slayer uniform, to be exact. this isn’t how it was supposed to go. it infuriates him that he let it happen. that he didn’t find out until now, didn’t find out until genya had already passed final selection and gone and gotten his own katana and uniform. and then—even once he’d found own, he’d done absolutely nothing. what the fuck.

[laughhardrunfastbekindsblog]

Just watched Wicked part 1 (AWESOME movie, btw, excellent adaptation of the play), so naturally I've been thinking of...

The Bad Batch and their opinions on musicals

Omega: LOVES musicals and was the one to introduce her brothers to them. Sings along with every song and will sometimes dance too, mostly freestyle. Favorite musical: she's finally grown out of her High School Musical phase and is now going through a classics phase, of which her current choice for favorite is Singing in the Rain... but her favorite changes just about every week.

Crosshair: scoffs and rolls his eyes during the entire movie in a (vain) attempt to hide the fact that he knows all the songs and choreography by heart. (His siblings have all seen him practicing in his room when he thinks he's alone, but none of them have called him out on it because they think it's hilarious and they know he'll stop if he finds out they know.) Favorite musical: he doesn't like musicals how many times does he have to say it?? 😠 (We won't mention that he's been humming the entire Wicked soundtrack for days, even before seeing the recent movie adaptation. We also won't mention that he often forgets to roll his eyes when watching Hamilton.)

Wrecker: he likes musicals mostly because he has a blast singing along with Omega. The happy ones make him giddy, the sad ones always make him cry and he's not afraid to show it. Favorite musical: The Lion King (yeah, he cries every time).

Tech: meh, musicals are fine and he won't complain about watching one, but they're pretty much last on his list of preferred movie/theater genres. He cannot fathom why anyone would make a story involving characters spontaneously bursting into a song/dance routine ("of course it's fiction and yes of course I know what suspension of disbelief is, but the background characters are meant to be random strangers and therefore all of them knowing the same song and dance the lead character is supposedly composing on the fly is NOT remotely realistic"), but some of the stories themselves are intriguing enough that he just might put down his datapad while watching it. Selecting the one he most consistently puts his datapad aside for, his favorite musical: Les Miserables.

Echo: while he agrees that musicals are kinda weird, he also just shrugs it off - the Jedi did far weirder things. Favorite musical: his default answer to this question is to name the musical he's seen most recently, which now is Fiddler on the Roof since Gregor is currently obsessed with it (no one can figure out why). Echo genuinely VASTLY prefers Fiddler on the Roof over Phantom of the Opera which was Gregor's previous musical obsession that lasted waaaay too long.

Hunter: musicals make his kid happy, so he's happy. Favorite musical: pretty much whatever Omega likes at any given moment, but he did find himself strangely drawn in by The Sound of Music.