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lily-of-rabanastre · 5 months

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Ascilia, Chapter 16—Excerpt 01

This is taking a rather long time to write. I've gotten back into Final Fantasy XIV, and playing a Minfilia alt has consumed most of my free time. Apologies for that. But I am having a lot of fun with her.

Anyways, enjoy!

Excitement and trepidation grew in equal measure within Ascilia as she observed the beginnings of the parade unfolding before her. Having been born under the Imperial occupation of Ala Mhigo, this had been her first chance to ever see a parade. And though one hundred and eighteen years had passed for her, as she listened to the cheering crowd of onlookers and watched as dazzling confetti rained down from above, she couldn’t help but feel swept back into the days of her youth.

This was the power of her beloved’s Echo. The power to bring life to one’s memories, forming perfect recreations of fleeting moments in time. From the merchants feverishly hawking their wares to the Chocobos carting the parade float towards the gates of Ruby Road, everything seemed flawlessly perfect.

Even the goobbue, bound high atop the float.

That it crippled her father in its mad rampage was not the creature’s fault. Ascilia had long accepted this truth. But none knew for sure what exactly had driven it mad to begin with. Was it the horn that sounded the moment prior to its bindings malfunctioning? Her mother, F’lhaminn, had once told her it was merely meant to put the goobbue under a hypnotic trance. The bindings themselves then, or the beast’s Elezen handler—an Ala Mhigan thaumaturge by the name of Corguevais?

Perhaps that was the case, she mused. Corguevais had turned up dead in Gyr Abania years later, his life taken in a skirmish between the Resistance and the occupation forces of Garlemald. But on that day, had he not reacted with surprise at the goobbue’s restraints breaking? And in the days to come beyond the parade, had he not routinely demonstrated himself to be a man of strong moral character?

Well, not routinely. The last they’d met, he’d unleashed a pack of coblyns upon her with the selfsame horn that started this mess.

“Come and get your flowers!” sang a fondly familiar voice, dragging her out from her thoughts and back to the parade itself. A fair distance ahead of the float, just before the gates to Ruby Road, a Miqo'te in a breezy pink blouse was passing out red and white daffodils from a large bouquet-filled basket. “Flowers for all! Enjoy the festivities!”

Her contemplative grimace swiftly gave way to a warm smile. That was F’lhaminn Qesh—the Songstress of Ul’dah, and the woman she’d come to love as her mother. And not more than a few fulms away, approaching one nervous step at a time, was little Ascilia, her own past self. She’d wandered off without her father for a moment, drawn towards the parade. And as much as she’d wanted a flower, the poor girl couldn’t work up the courage to ask for one.

A fair distance behind both she spied her old friend, Chel, looking on in awe at everything around her. She’d only been sixteen summers old at the time, and just like herself this had been her first time in a city beyond her distant homeland. Beyond her was the familiar face of Thancred, his eyes fixated upon Lhaminn, and…

“What kept you?” came a voice from out of her sight.

Turning about she caught sight of F'lhaminn’s fiancé, Niellefresne. The Elezen’s words were not directed at her mother, but at the rest of their conspiratorial companions. With an affirming wave of his hand, a Reogadyn man approached their little gathering of souls. This was Greinfarr, a gladiator and longtime friend of her mother. Accompanying him was the final pair of accomplices—Popokkuli and Seserukka, Lalafellin twins and senior members of the Miner’s Guild.

“The parade has already begun,” Niellefresne sternly told them. “Make ready. Now.”

“You got it, boss,” Greinfarr nodded. “Leave it to me! I won’t let nothing go wrong!”

Before he could take more than a single step, F’lhaminn slipped a white daffodil beneath his chin, beaming a bright grin at him.

“Take it,” Niellefresne instructed him, snatching an identical flower from the basket. “As a precaution.”

“Oh, I, uh…” As he stammered and stuttered, Greinfarr gingerly took the flower between his fingers.

With a flourish of his wrist, Niellefresne slipped his own flower into his vest. Then he began to hurry away. “Let us go.”

Exchanging an awkward smile with F’lhaminn, Greinfarr hurried off as well, with the Lalafellin twins following closely behind him. Thus was Ascilia left alone with her mother once more—well, alone and beside herself, she mused. Watching as her mother took notice of her younger self, she couldn’t help but smile as F’lhaminn slipped a daffodil beneath the badge of young Ascilia’s cap.

“For me? Really?” young Ascilia gasped, a bright and cheerful grin growing on her face as she reached for the flower. “Thank you!”

“Pretty, aren’t they?” F’lhaminn responded. Removing the basket from her shoulder, she presented it to the young girl with a smile of her own. “Now be a sweetling and make sure everybody gets one, alright?”

Warmth flooded through Ascilia’s cheeks as her younger self accepted the basket with glee. Lily’s Echo had preserved practically every detail, from the sights and sounds to the very sensations she’d felt that day. It was difficult not to be overwhelmed and she found herself looming over the unaware girl, reaching out to her.

If she just slipped into the role of this phantom, she could experience these joys first hand once again. The parade, Lhaminn’s kindness, passing out the flowers… every wonderful memory of this day.

And all the heartache as well, whispered a stern, friendly voice in her heart. If happiness is what you seek, look instead to your future.

Her breath froze in her throat as she came to a halt, her hand barely an ilm away from her younger self’s shoulder. “I-I…”

“I will!” young Ascilia beamed.

Giving an affirming nod and a wave goodbye, F’lhaminn hurried away, joining the parade. Leaping and flipping, she took her place upon the coach at the head of the parade. The crowd of onlookers cheered at the sight, confetti raining down like snow as she bedazzled them with her felicitous footwork. For a moment Ascilia watched on as well, letting the bittersweet taste of the moment linger. Then she turned away. ‘Twould be better, she felt, if she spent this time waiting alongside Lily. After all, it wasn’t as if she could change what was fated to come. The voice was right—she’d long made her peace with this past. To seek to relive it now could only bring her needless pain.

How uncharacteristic of it, though, to suggest such a thing.

#ffxiv #ffxiv fanfiction #galbana lily #minfilia warde #wolfilia #post endwalker

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unknownjpegs · 8 months

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misfire

After that first time, it’s like a fucking gladiator arena. Empty until either side lifts the gate. Then it’s two blurs of wild, ferocious animal. Circling at first and then colliding together audibly, quickly. They’d be like that, if the gladiator arena was just Benny’s uncomfortable bed, if the animalistic fight-to-the-death was…right, well.

It’s the third time Benny’s made this specific joke, or a filthy comment, or one of his weird, matter-of-fact declarations. And it’s the third time Maran has said yes. Also the third time he’s gotten a snake-like grin and devious take it slow in response. He doesn’t fucking want to.

He has a prickle of feeling that might not be a barrier. Tonight they’d hit the ground running, out the gate, into the arena.

Mostly because their flat being empty didn’t happen often. Could take Benny back to his, but that’d mean someone would see the state of it. Benji’s dead plants he couldn’t bring himself to bin, the laundry basket of his clean clothes that Maran had folded in apology and hadn’t the stomach to put away. They both stare down at the group chat, Xavier’s string of loosely narrative emojis, and Lark’s explanation below: we’ll catch up, probably won’t be until morning. food in the fridge

Maran texted back immediately: thanks mom. Slipped his phone into his pocket. Slowly looked over at Benny. Found himself being looked at, already. And then — yeah.

“Yeah,” Maran sighs, flushing at how strained his voice sounds. He clears away the roughness and pulls back from Benny’s mouth with a wet noise. His bottom lip stings from a bite. He sits up, wiping at his mouth with a sleeve and laughing. “Yeah, we could… yeah, I wanna fuckin’ do that.”

Why are you so…mouth-able, dude? Benny had just sighed against the underside of his jaw.

“I can — ” the blond starts to offer, reaching up for the back of his head. He grins in that way that says, I’m not done with you, yet. Maran fights the pull a little, chewing at the unbruised side of his bottom lip, wicked smile firmly in place.

He fights it because if there’s resistance — he gasps a laugh, tugged suddenly and roughly forward for another kiss. Yeah. If he resists a little, Benny always uses more strength. Makes Maran shiver every fucking time.

“I can do it first,” Benny suggests between kisses. He tapers them down his chin, tucking his nose between thumb and index finger, where they rest along Maran’s throat. Those words bounce around his head. “G-Give you an idea. Might n-not ever stop, though.”

“Y’know I’ve had one before, right?” He jokes away a bit of the sudden tension, his own nerves. Drops his eyes up-down quick, pitches his voice sly. “Or d’you mean you want to show me how, Ben?”

Benny stares at him hard for a long, long moment. His jaw visibly works, eyes darting heatedly around Maran’s face.

“Don’t do that.”

Maran’s grin slips playfully innocent. “Dunno why you’re kickin’ off. I’m just saying.” A wild laugh leaves him, nerves more apparent than he liked. “I told you it was an option. Real clear about it, I thought. Feel it would be a very educational experience, yeah? Helpful if you just told me exactly where to put my — ”

Benny suddenly folds to haul him upright. Catches his mouth in a hard, consuming kiss. The worlds trail off in a sigh that parts his lips enough for their tongues to touch briefly together. At that, Maran swallows a proper fucking moan.

“L-look eager.”

“I am. I just… ” Maran glances up at him. Gazes skitters away and back quickly, feeling the creeping wash of embarrassment up his face. Gets any worse, his confidence’ll drain out entirely, and before that happens he wants: “Wanna see you again.”

“God. You’re going to give me a f-fucking complex, man.” Benny groans, falling backwards, shoulders flat to the bed. He’s grumbling and complaining even as his belt jingles. Maran’s tongue sticks to the roof of his mouth as he watches pale fingers dip below the elastic of his boxers.

Benny doesn’t so much as shove him back down the bed, and Maran doesn’t so much as toss himself between his spread legs.

His heart’s racing in his chest, palms a little clammy as he sets them on either side of Benny’s hips to watch. He feels a bit like he’s just gotten much too high with Xavier, head swimming pleasantly and thoughts tripping away from him in a line like yarn, gathering into one narrow focus.

When Benny brushes the fabric down his thighs, they both pause.

“Y’know, Ben,” Maran finally says, shot-through with breathy amusement. “Think some things are maybe makin’ a bit more sense.”

“Like?” The blond prompts, tongue tucked into his cheek. Got that crooked half-grin and a snarky, dangerous quirk to the brow. The one that makes Maran want to handcuff them together for — ah, shit. Mental image well stuck to his gray matter.

“Uh.” Maran says. Blinks. Shakes it away as he pushes down the bed until he’s comfortable. Until he’s so aware that he’s staring at the hardening length in Benny’s hand. That it’s so close to his face. It reminds him of his original thought.

“Oh, right. Anyway. M’usually just a good ol’ fist and imagination lad —”

“Don’t tell me that, fuck.”

“— but if I needed a help-along, I’d usually always go for,” he tucks his tongue to his cheek, wagging his eyebrows. “Straight ones. Didn’t know why. Took me ’til, ah, just about now to realize I was enjoying it, y’know. But also that I kept getting hung up on…I kept goin’ back to watch…”

He trails off, lacking the air to talk because his chest has caught tight. Benny’s started moving his hand. Not much, not full, end-motivated tugs.

“Watch w-what, Maran?” Benny asks. His eyes are blazing, but his tone is even.

He swallows. “When they’d,” he looks sheepishly up, tongue swiping his lips. “When they’d take it out.”

Benny stares at him. Then snorts. Then he laughs, head tossed back in the pillows. His whole body shakes with it, and it’s absolutely fucking contagious. Takes a second to catch their breath, and when they do, Benny’s simply shaking his head.

Craning his neck to look down at Maran, he offers: “Come on. Thought Lark couldn’t take a hint.”

“Had my own cock hairpin’ at me, too.” He smooths a hand up Benny’s thigh. “Embarrassing, right?

“Nah. But…speaking of.”

“Embarrassing?”

“Cock.”

Maran rolls his eyes. “Piss off, Ben.You’re lucky I still want to, after that one.”

The confidence and easy banter have him moving without pause further down, situating himself until he is truly, undeniably at eye-level.

He feels nervous again, but not with a novel newness. Person newness. Ben newness. He sighs.

“We shake hands or somethin’, now?” Maran quips. “Honest fight, n’all that?”

“Fuck. Hold on, go b-back a little.”

Maran frowns at him, face scrunched why? A hand winds around the back of his neck, tugging at the back of his make-out rumpled shirt.

“You’re fucking breathing on me, dude.” Benny sounds…different. It makes him dizzy.

“Sorry,” Maran mumbles. He can’t look away from tattooed knuckles as they squeeze around the base. That gets edited down to a loop of three seconds. Absolutely replaying that one over and fucking over. “How do I — I mean, is it just —”

“D-Don’t overthink it. Just… start how you usually would, you know, do it. Go from there.” Benny delivers it roughly through gritted teeth. His hand cupping the back of Maran’s neck sweetly flexes — or twitches. Tightens almost too much for a second before slowly, purposefully relaxing.

“Like I usually would?” Maran repeats thickly. He blinks hazy up at the other man, eyes swooping syrup-slow back down his body, lingering over the bunched-up gray tank, toned arms, a stomach that twitches and ripples. Not lustfully, he thinks of another body. Softer, thicker thighs, wet between them instead.

Maran licks his lips, barely hears the responding moan it earns, and then nods dreamily. “M’kay.”

He goes fully to his stomach with a bounce, squirming comfortably into the bunch of sheets. Leans forward on his elbows, flat palms framing Benny’s thighs. He smacks one open-mouthed kiss to that prominent vein.

“Fuck!”

Ben shouts it. Maran watches through half-lidded eyes as the cock in front of face twitches. That sears into his brain like a brand on flesh, like that looping squeeze of knuckles.

Man, I’m gonna think about this forever, Maran realizes, and then —

Then he doesn’t get to watch any more. Because Benny uses the leverage on the back of his neck to shove his face away, push it down into the sheets.

“M’sorry,” Maran muffles a snort of laughter into the navy fabric. “I thought —”

“You— you start...” Benny’s panting, swearing. “That’s your thing —?”

He laughs harder, shoving at the hand on the back of his head. It stays firm. “Haven’t gotten a complaint so far. But I can get you the form to fill out?”

“Glad I can’t fuckin’ hear whatever you just said, you little shit.” Benny mutters, but lets him rise for a gulp of air. Instead of going far, he skates his teeth over Benny’s inked knee, smiling. “Maran.”

“Did you almost,” Maran interrupts, tongue poking from between his teeth. He jerks at the air obscenely, throws his fingers out with a whistle. When Benny’s silent a moment, his smirk widens into something too pleased, too smug.

“Fuckin’ hell,” he quips, and sits up to dust his palms. “Just a natural, ‘pose.”

Benny’s hand comes suddenly around the front of his throat. Not hard or mean, but a quick climb up his chest to settle around the column. Firm.

He gasps as soon as he feels those fingers curl. Leans into it. Goes a bit liquid down the spine, bottom of his stomach flipping. His prick takes more interest now; the pressure makes him squirm, makes his muscles heavy and loose. He braces his hands on pale, bent knees.

The grip tightens even more. Hand cradling the back of his skull, fingers at his pulse. He’s pulled closer, hovering, and then held in place.

A stuttering, unhinged moan of a laugh startles out of him when Benny raises his hips, presses himself against Maran’s cheek.

“You’re such a dog, Ben.” Maran huffs, feeling insane about the swipe of hardness close to the corner of his mouth. “Yes,” he groans quietly, immediately shy about the noise. Fingers squeeze at his nape.

“Stay still, keep it shut.” Benny clips out. Maran closes his mouth and casts a swimming gaze that crawls along a pale stomach, tattoo-dotted torso. Finds Benny’s steady, cold stare. Not cold now. They’re blown dark like the night sky. Cobalt gone all navy, because he’s… turned on.

Maran swallows. He’d done that. And done— Benny he reaches down, fists himself more purposefully with lazy strokes. Maran had done that, too. Made it worse.

Doesn’t realize the mix of pride and lust is so potent like this, doing…nothing. Not really nothing, because he’s doing something for somebody, he’s listening to what Benny said and he’s staying still, keeping his mouth shut, obeying.

Hm.

Maran shoves his hips against the bedsheets. What’s so good about this, about Benny’s warm skin under his hands and his handsome face tossed back in pleasure. While he… man, while he fucking wanks off to, or on, literally on, Maran’s —

“Cute fucking face,” Benny groans it so filthily that his ears get warm. “Knew you’d look cute like this, with cock on your — hn — cute fucking face.” He cracks an eye open. “Respectfully.”

Please, he thinks, and it’s a soft chant in the back of his foggy head. Benny rubs teasingly over his mouth, which floods with a surprising amount of saliva. His eyes blink open and search for that iced-over gaze, humming when he finds it. The other man looks much more focused than Maran feels. Above him, all blurry at the edges with how out of it he feels, Benny’s dreamily handsome. Defined in the center, shimmering mirage of blurred two as his eyes roll.

His hand starts moving faster.

“Fuck,” Maran breathes, edgy little laugh caught in his throat. He’s begging. “Please. Ben, c’mon, let me — ”

He doesn’t know what.

He knows exactly what.

he true end of that sentence is: do anything. Let me do anything, he wants to say. It’s an all-encompassing anything, gut-deepsort of want had been abstract in his head. There, lingering. Scratch in the back of his skull, heat in his stomach at something obscure, strange, normal. Now he knows that the anything is that same-different kind. Same, like all his other want. Different, because, well. Him.

Benny. He grunts, swears harsh and loud. It tapers off into an unspooling groan that slithers out of his chest. Sounds like Maran’s name, or at least he wants to hear it that way. He smiles mindlessly.

“You’re begging for it, already? From this?” Benny asks, scoffing with hot, mean amusement.

Maran viciously nods until the room spins. He’s swept by a brief wave of embarrassment, but it’s not rotten or bitter in him — it’s good. Feels hot, like getting ice-water dunked in August. Maran shivers like he has been, warm in his cheeks. Not just where other flesh touches.

His hum is content as he fights against the urge to withdraw, turtle into himself. The noise is enough to earn a low, appreciative sigh from above him — enough approval in it for him to shrug off the hint of shame. Enough to catch Benny off guard.

Maran manages to shake a bit of the pressure from the hand on the back of his neck. He turns his face enough. Just enough. Knuckles brush against his mouth as they move, and he chases the length they vacate. Sticks his tongue out, touches its firm point feather-light under the head.

Benny watches Maran as he hunches over the sink, face under the stream of water.

“You know I h-hate saying, told you so.”

“The cheek,” Maran grumbles. “Got a new respect for it, s’what I’ll fucking say.”

“Dangerous w-work.” Benny pushes off the doorframe to slink an arm around his waist. Touch greedy, unapologetic fingers into the waistband of Maran’s shorts. “Somebody has to do it. I humbly volunteer to take on that difficult t-task.” He starts to lower to his knees. “Hard. Hard task, shit. That w-would have been funnier.”

Maran shuts the water off and gently pushes him away with a palm to the center of his forehead. “Naw, Ben, ‘cuz I’m spiteful and I’ll do it back purposefully. Then we’ll both look like fuckin’ idiots, wearing eyepatches.”

“And m-matching shirts with arrows.” Ben crosses his bare arms, points them in opposite directions. “They’ll say —”

“What, I came on this guy’s face? Shut up, man. Shit.”

The giggles get to him then. It’s either fall over like a clown, or lean against Benny for support against the onslaught.

He chooses the latter. Maran likes how he gets pressed close. Likes being pulled in, held. Probably not what most people want, sore eye and smart-ass comments and a pair of twitchy, lecherous hands. Probably better places to be. Things to be doing. Maran likes it right here, though.

#writing #ua #mgc #jlb #mgc x jlb #vampire au

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mirobami · 2 years

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For the first and not last request during this event:

Character: Mary

Minigame: Pyramid

(You have the best event ideas ever ;D)

↳ never lost, always found

♠️ CHARACTER: m. saotome

♠️ MATCH: Pyramid (Time Travel)

♠️ NOTE: shout out to bliss for helping me with this event idea since i panicked at midnight since we were one follower away from 1k--but this one is based off of an idea i wrote for one of my classes >:)

Mary knew that you would never have to worry about anything, you had all the time in the world. Not even all the time in the world, you had all the time in the history of the universe. As an immortal, nothing fazed you because you knew how to adapt quickly after centuries of being alive.

She still didn’t know how she caught your eye. She was a time traveler, constantly going to places that she shouldn’t have been going to because she didn’t belong there. From the ancient era to the future to the Victorian times, Mary went everywhere because she wanted to see history for herself. The one person that was constant was you. You were the person she would see everywhere. The first time you met was at a gladiator fight where she didn’t know where she was and you guessed she was a time traveler automatically. The second time was in the Sengoku era in the middle of a war where she was going to be killed but you stepped in immediately. Maybe she fell first, she couldn’t remember. She just knew that she loved you and counted on you to be there for her.

It was the future now, everything seemed much more advanced, technology wise. The trains were no longer run on electricity, they ran on electromagnetic waves. The neon lights blinded her eyes, signs for just about anything she could ask for. The bubbles which held people flying around, everyone trying to get to their own destination. Mary pressed her watch and it turned into a compass, leading her straight to you.

You were sitting with your legs over the armchair, reading a magazine from the 1200s. It was indecipherable to normal people, but to you who lived through that era, it was nothing. Once you heard a knock at the door, you had to hide a smile as you walked to the doorknob. Of course it had to be Mary, who else would it be? You hardly made any friends and Mary was different.

The blonde was panting as a hand was latching to your doorframe. “Those bubbles...are not for the faint of heart...”

“And suddenly you’re faint of heart?” Not able to withstand it any longer, you hugged her tightly and were glad to feel her embracing you just as fiercely. It had been the longest time for you but only a few seconds for her. Mary didn’t know how you could handle it, since you never complained to her. She was looking for something in all these eras and was always glad to find you.

She was sitting on your couch as you whipped something up for her, setting the plate before her. She was going to get up and eat before she stared at it. “Um, Y/N?”

“Yes?”

“This is a holographic sandwich.”

“I know.”

“...Is this how you consume food now?”

You had to control yourself from bursting into laughter because she truly looked confused. She knew that the world changed but she didn’t know it changed this much. You finally started laughing behind your hand and shook your head, taking away the plate, her still looking at you quizzically. “No, no, we still have food as usual, I just thought this would be funny.”

Mary crossed her arms. “You are so funny, I am practically dying with laughter.”

You chortled before stepping away. Mary looked around. The place still had your style in it, no matter what the year. Then she noticed a bunch of frames on the fireplace. Picking the first one up, she noticed it was someone that looked almost like her. Then it was someone else. Then another one. All these frames looked slightly like her and she frowned as she turned to look at you. “What are these?”

Sighing, you went over to her. “You know I’m immortal. And even though you time travel, you’re still mortal. But I noticed a pattern. Ever since the first you came to be, you always reincarnate to become someone else. It hasn’t been you looking for me, I’ve been looking for you each time. It was always you.”

Mary’s eyes widened. “So we’ve been in love...every time?”

You nodded. “The present you has met my previous selves because I caught on in the past. It’s why there was a period where I didn’t look for you. You were always my first option.”

With a small smile, she went over to you. “I think I like this time though. Maybe I’ll still.”

“Please...stay this time. Please stay. I don’t want to lose you again.”

Who would she be to turn down a vulnerable request?

#[ ♠️ ] verona's 1k soiree !#kakegurui x reader #kakegurui x y/n #kakegurui x you #saotome x reader #mary saotome x reader #saotome x y/n #mary saotome x y/n #saotome x you #mary saotome x you #now tell me why i was playing my likes and i swear the og version and the minion version popped up back to back

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seyaryminamoto · 2 years

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So I was today years old when I found out that It Had to Be You has a Christmas themed sequel and I’m in awe. Personally, I prefer canon compliants stories, but your AUs are really, really good and I think IHTBY is probably my favorite sokkla modern setting. Do you think you’ll come back to it? Not now of course, I suppose you’re too busy with Gladiator. But maybe someday in the far future we could know how was the Christmas Eve in which Sokka’s parents got to meet Azula’s family.

x'D I had a lot of fun reading your asks, so I'll be answering them in order now. Thanks for reaching out to talk about my stories!

Sooo... yeah. IHTBY has a Christmas sequel that was never finished because I am a bit hopeless about fully committing to writing it. I've made occasional progress with it, there's at least one scene and a half more than what I posted when I did (maybe there's more and I just don't remember?), and I should definitely finish it someday, but I'm, again, a bit hopeless and get dragged into certain other life-consuming ventures that then distract me entirely from this particular AU I'm very fond of.

I like canon compliance/divergence quite a lot, too. It's really fun to see how different certain stories can be when you change just a small element to create something different, no matter how similar to the original concept it may turn out to be. But strangely, I've reeeeally found myself enjoying the modern AUs I've written ever since I wrote IHTBY? I've never been the sort to dislike modern AUs on principle, it can be fun to explore them, but I definitely didn't anticipate that I'd have that much fun writing them. IHTBY was written in less than one week because I was sooo possessed by the idea that I couldn't focus on anything else until I finished it. It really had a spark of something special that I've hoped to capture in my other modern AUs, too.

But yeah, I'd definitely love to finish exploring how things turn out in this story. I have a pretty clear idea on where it would go next, but I would definitely have to make myself do it. One day, hopefully :D

#anon #ihtby #I have a soft spot for this story for sure #returning to it even briefly for the last fic-to-art I did was really heartwarming #this ask makes me want to revisit the Christmas story though #oh so much #but yeaaaah time #if only I had time #*sobs*

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the-blind-assassin-12 · 3 years

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Forbidden

700 Follower Smoochfest Request #5

A/N: I am sorry that these requests are taking me so long to finish- as is my way, I put way too much on my plate all at once, and now I am trying to work through the mess. BUT! After this one there are only two more so we are almost there, friends, the light at the end of the tunnel, I can see it! (And then it is time to DIVE back in to all of my poor mangled series, I promise.) ANYWAY- I am babbling now. Just want to thank you all for hanging tight while I pick away at my to be written list. You guys are certified gems and I truly hope you are all having a lovely day. And what better way to ensure that your weekend gets off to a good start than by smooching the Prince of Dorne?

A/N 2: This story takes place well before the events of GoT, when Oberyn is younger and travels to Essos to compete in the fighting pits of Meereen. Though they aren’t talked about in the show adaptation, the Graces are an order of priestesses of the Ghiscari religion, and one of their main functions was giving their blessing over the Great Games.

Warnings: discussion of death, violence, blood, GoT canon typical awfulness surrounding the fighting pits and Slaver’s Bay.

Word Count: 4,539

Requested by: @lightsinthedistancee - kissing their bruises and scars with Oberyn Martell

Summary: As one of the Blue Graces, you were a healer. And as one of the most skilled healers in your Order, you had been designated to Daznak’s Pit to tend to the fighters who were injured in the Great Games- a brutal, gladiator style tournament where men were forced to fight to the death. During a particularly bloody day of fighting, you find yourself questioning your commitment to it all. With yet another fighter in need of your assistance, you don’t have much time to dwell on it- besides, it is forbidden for you to forsake your vows.

There was already another fighter in your stall by the time you returned to it, the shadow of a man reclining on the cot visible through the threadbare curtain walls of the healing tent. The sight caused your footsteps to falter and your hands to shake. You had just scrubbed them raw, removing the blood that had soaked into the cracks of your knuckles, the lines on your palms, only for them to become steeped in crimson again.

The gods are ravenous today.

Of course they were. It was the opening day of the Great Games in Daznak’s Pit, the tournament that the gods, masters, gamblers and everyone in the city of Meereen seemed to fast for each year so that they would be able to consume their fill of violence and gore. You had already tended to five men since the horns sounded to signal the start of the games. Two of those five had died on the cot that the sixth now occupied, though it was through no fault of your own. One of them had come to you with the talons of some poor beast still lodged in his abdomen, and though you had acted as quickly as possible his wounds had been far too severe for you to treat. The other was gone before you ever touched him. You knew it, as did the other Graces and the Guards that carried his limp form into the tent. But the fighter in question was one of high value and the masters demanded that he be brought to the healers- specifically to you.

Perhaps they had been hoping for a miracle to come from the gods they had just fed, that they would be merciful and grant the masters this prize fighter’s life back so that he might fight another match, fill more seats, drive more wagers.

Ignorant men. The gods of Ghis are always hungry. It is known.

The sand that lined the pit’s floor was red for a reason.

Your role in all of it was strange, and it felt even stranger as you stood frozen just a few steps from your stall. Some days you were glad to be of service in the fighting pits. It was far better than tending to old men in their chambers, changing the bandages on their sores, mixing herbal tonics for their ailments. It was more exciting, and if you were being honest, more personally fulfilling than helping with birthing and babies. But at the same time it was exhausting- both physically and emotionally- to be constantly locked in a battle with death, to feel the push and pull of your skill and experience versus the bloodthirsty nature of the pits. Some days you were glad, and proud to have been sent by the High Priestess herself to care for the brave men, the strong men, the unfortunate men that fought there. But the opening day of the Great Games was not one of them.

Clenching your fists to stop them from shaking, you swallowed the knot of unease you felt forming in your throat and straightened the azure colored robes that you wore. There was no point in dwelling on your internal struggle with your position, because leaving the Order of the Graces meant a life of exile. Besides, right now there was a fighter in need of your attention, and you were sworn to give it to him.

I hope that it will make a difference.

Squeezing your eyes shut, you took one last moment to compose yourself before forcing yourself forwards and reaching for the gauzy fabric to pull it open.

“I was beginning to worry that I was taken to the wrong tent.”

You sucked in a breath, immediately recognizing the man as one that you had seen in the healing tent a handful of times before. Thick, black curls crowned his head and beneath them a pair of deep brown eyes shone more brightly than those you were used to seeing in your line of service. His lips were set in a curved line that was not quite a smirk but still less than a grin, and the casual way that he leaned back on one elbow made him seem more amused than injured, though you knew he must have been bleeding somewhere to have ended up here.

Flicking your focus to his left shoulder, you found a nicely healing but still relatively visible scar, the only remnant from the last of his visits to your stall. A quick sweep of his chest and torso told you that whatever had brought him to you again wasn’t life-threatening, the exposed skin of his upper body slick with sweat and smattered with flecks of reddish sand but free of gashes, burns or torn flesh. For that you found yourself immensely grateful, barely concealing a sigh of relief as you pulled the curtain closed behind yourself.

“You should be familiar with this tent by now, I think.” Despite the way that you were questioning your commitment to your calling only moments before stepping into your stall, you let a small smile lift your lips as you took a step closer to the man. “This is not your first time here.”

Though you rarely learned the names of the bruised and battered warriors that you stitched up only to send back into the fights, you wished you had taken the time to learn his so that you could use it. The only thing you knew about him was that unlike most of the fighters that stepped out onto the red sands of Daznak’s Pit, this man was not being forced to participate. He was not owned by any of the masters, and his involvement in the games was not a punishment of any kind. You glanced down at his waist where his dagger was still sheathed at his belt and found the symbol for the Second Sons emblazoned on its pommel.

A sellsword company consisting of men who would never inherit anything because they had been born behind their brothers, the Second Sons fought with the fearless abandon of those with nothing to lose. They were hired all over Essos to supplement, or in some cases, stand in completely for other armies. But in times of peace, or to put it more accurately when those with coin had no one that they needed to conquer, the men of the company would often enter the pits of Meereen, Astapor and Yunkai. There were hardly ever payouts to the victors as you had heard was a tradition in tournaments of skill and combat across the Narrow Sea in Westeros, but that did not mean that the games held in the arenas of Slaver’s Bay came without benefits to the winners. Fighters who performed well in the pits were given more food, better sleeping quarters, even women- your sisters in the Order of the Red Graces- to help soothe the things that your salves and oils and tonics could not.

They also get to keep their lives.

You had been taught that the gods of Ghis demanded bloodshed, and that the pits were created to slake their unquenchable thirst. It was believed throughout Essos that denying them what they craved would bring their wrath down on the cities that defied them- that death and destruction would flood their streets and leave them in ruins. As another deafening roar rose from the crowd in the distance, no doubt signaling a gruesome mauling of some kind, you had to wonder how it would be so different. You and the other Blue Graces saved as many men as your abilities allowed, but still hundreds were brutally maimed and mutilated. Still, fighters were kept in cages alongside beasts as though they were the same. Still, men and boys were taken from their homes, torn from families that were left waiting for fathers and husbands, brothers and children who would never return; whose blood was already helping to stain the sand red. When the people of Mereen were already dying and suffering, could angering the gods truly make it worse?

It wasn’t the time for such thoughts though, so once again you pushed them aside to focus on the man in your stall and what your role required you to do for him. For the first time since you had donned the blue robes of your Order though, you wanted to do more for him than what was required- more than what was permitted. You wanted to kiss him, touch him in ways that had nothing to do with healing. You wanted his violent hands to soften when they met your flesh. For the first time since you were sent to join the Order of the Graces you could think only of breaking your vows. But I can’t. It’s…only the Red Graces can- Realizing that you were staring at the rise and fall of his chest, at the way that sweat beaded on his skin to make it shimmer, you snapped your attention back up to his face as he spoke.

“That is true.” He raised his right hand to indicate the work you’d done last time, when he had come to you with a jagged yet shallow slash across the summit of his shoulder. “It is not my first time.” Dropping his hand back to the cot, he adjusted his position with a lift of his hips, pushing himself into a more upright posture. A small wince at the movement was still the only hint that the man was actually in need of any assistance from you, but before you could press the issue he continued. “It will be my last, though.”

You blinked, unsure of what he meant by that. Did something happen? Did he kill a prize fighter and anger the masters? Are they driving him out or executing him? You took a breath to steady the rush of questions and asked a simpler one. “Is that so?”

He nodded once, eyes locked on yours. “It is. I have entered the pits for the last time, and I have walked out of them a victor for the last time.” His tongue came out to wet his lips and you couldn’t help but track its motion. “And now I am here. In this tent with you for the last time.”

Moving his left hand from where it was laying over the same side leg, he finally revealed his wound. A tear in the brown leather trousers he wore as his only layer of protection in the fights- the use of armor was not permitted by the fighters in the pits- showed a shallow gash in the meat of his thigh. That’s it? It wouldn’t take much at all to clean it, close it up and wrap it in bandages, and even though you knew that even the smallest wound could turn septic and deadly if left unattended, you questioned the necessity of his visit especially since he was not looking to head back into the pits any time soon.

Unless the Second Sons are on the march. They follow the coin, not the cheers of the crowds.

Clearing your throat, you rubbed your fingertips over your palms and tentatively reached out, one hand landing just above his knee. “This is not a serious injury.” You pressed gently around the ripped area to check for any swelling or signs of bleeding beneath the skin and felt nothing. Nothing but relief that this man at the very least would get to walk away. For all the corpses that you handed over to your sisters in the Gold Order for burial in the temple, for all the bodies that hummed one final time in the tents of the Graces in Red before being ground into the vermillion sand, you felt extreme happiness to know that this man would not become one of them. “I will take care of it, of course, but…” You brought your eyes up from his lower half to his face. “But I think you know that it is not necessary for me to do so.”

His smirk finally grew into a full smile, white teeth flashing and eyes lighting up to defy the meaning of the word darkness. “You caught me, priestess.”

For the first time you felt yourself cringe internally at the word he had called you. Priestess. It was what you were, a steward of the Ghiscari religion. But was it what you were meant to be? Narrowing your eyes in hopes that it would hide your inner conflict, you tilted your head. Hands still pressed over the bloody fabric of his pants, you took his bait. “Caught you?” The man nodded. “And what is it that I caught you in, warrior?”

With the way that the man was looking at you, you were the one who felt caught- as though he could sense that you were wavering in your faith, wavering in your commitment to the Graces and the Games and the city and the gods. Can he?

“Oberyn.” His tone was even and balanced, no sign of pain or weakness present. “Please, call me Oberyn. As I have just told you, I am no longer just another fighter without a name.”

“Oberyn.” It slipped out of your mouth with the same reverence that you used to use when praying for the recovery of one of your charges. It tasted sweet and intoxicating like the wine used in ceremonial rituals. It made your insides swim with warmth the way they used to before you were forced to take a vow of chastity and put on the blue robes. With his name finally on your tongue your robes suddenly felt like chains. “What is it that I caught you in, Oberyn?”

That is not a Meereenese name. And his accent… he is not from Essos.

“Like you said, this is not a wound that requires treatment.” A few grains of sand fell from his back as he shrugged his shoulders. “I have studied such things before, and this?” He brought one hand down to indicate the cut on his thigh, his knuckles brushing over yours as he did. “I know that this is nothing. But-” He raised the same hand that had just touched yours and held up one finger. “I know that if a fighter sheds blood in the pits he will be brought before the healers. The Blue Graces of Ghis. You.”

You nodded, a smile pulling at your lips at his admission that he had only sustained a qualifying injury so that he would be brought to your stall. “It is known.” You took your bottom lip between your teeth and couldn’t bite back the small laugh that slipped out. “So you have bent the rules to suit your wishes, then?”

Oberyn chuckled, the sound a pleasant contrast to the echoes of gasps and jeers that you could hear coming from the arena. “Why not?” Raising an arm in the direction of the pits, he went on. “Is that not what the masters have done here in Mereen?” He returned his hand to cover yours where they still lay over his leg, your fingers and his becoming red-tinted. “Is that not what they have done to you? To your sisters in Red? The young girls in White?” It was his turn to narrow his eyes. “Have they not bent the rules of your religion to suit their lust for blood and for pleasure?”

How does he… You tried to lift your hands away from his thigh but he kept them there with his own wide palm. He was speaking truths that you had learned only after joining the Order of the Graces- that the original Order had only two suborders, the Green Graces who were the High Priestesses of Old Ghis, and the White Graces, younger girls who served as handmaidens to their revered counterparts. Over time, as the masters built their wealth on the control of those beneath them, they extended that corruption to the Temples of Slaver’s Bay, entwining the religion of Old Ghis with the bloodsport of the fighting pits. It was they who requested that the Order create new divisions within its ranks to serve different needs. Red so that they could blind the fighters with the promise of pleasure beyond what they could ever receive in brothels. Blue so that they could pull the wool over mens’ eyes by claiming that the healers were extensions of the gods and that if they could not save a man from his wounds, it is by divine right and not barbaric entertainment that he meets his end. Gold so that the fallen fighters may be given proper funeral rites, Purple to punish any of the Graces who did not adhere to the rules of their order. But this was all a secret, kept by the masters and by the Order of the Graces so that the noble families of Essos would not stop sending their dowerless daughters into service. But how does he know that?

“I have studied many things,” he said in response to your stunned silence. “Many subjects in many parts of the world.” Releasing your hands by moving his own, he waited a beat until you were looking up at him instead of at your trembling hands. “And it is a big world.”

Is it? You had never left Meereen, not even before your younger sister outpaced you with a marriage to a nobleman from Yunkai and your parents sent you off to take your vows. When you were still naïve and hopeful, you spent hours daydreaming of what life was like in other places- among the Dothraki in the grasslands, beyond the eastern shadows in Volantis, in the free city of Braavos, in the kingdoms of the fabled land of Westeros on the other side of the Narrow Sea. But narrow or not it did not matter. You were not permitted to leave the walls of the city of Meereen.

“My world is only as big as this tent and the Temple.” Your tone was flat as you pulled your hands away from his body, turning towards the cabinet that held your healing supplies. “It is… forbidden for me to leave. The Graces take our vows for life. It is known.”

He startled you by hopping down off the cot and stepping behind you, one hand coming around your body to still yours where you were preparing a mixture of oils and herbs to smear over the cut on his thigh. “Yes,” he spoke close to your ear. “It is known. But I know that you are unhappy with the limitations, the burdens of your vows.” You felt your stomach tighten, twisting in knots. “Am I wrong?”

“No.” The word was past your lips before you could suck it back in, a shuddering breath leaving your lungs as he let go of your hand. You turned back to face him, this stranger, this one man in the sea of thousands that you had seen in your life, and wondered how it was possible that he knew the truth inside your heart.

“Tell me,” he leaned back against the cot but remained on his feet, further proving that the injury he sustained was nothing serious. “What would you do if you were not bound by your vows, hmm? Where would you go? Who would you be?”

“I… I-”

“Do not say that you haven’t thought about it.” He raised one eyebrow. “Back home my sister likes to keep birds as pets, and they sing beautiful songs for her. But I know as well as she does that those creatures were not meant to live in cages, that they dream of taking flight.” He gripped the cot with both hands and took a deep breath. “So what do you dream of? What would you do if your cage was opened?”

“I would kiss you,” you breathed. To your shock and relief the man did not flinch or laugh, didn’t scoff or turn up his nose. “I.. I would travel. Find somewhere that I can-”

“Why do you deny yourself these things, then?” The way he asked the question made it seem as though the man had never been forced to adhere to a rule or restriction in his life.

Maybe he hasn’t.

You shook your head. “It is forbidden, Oberyn. I cannot-”

“What is forbidden? To touch?” He pointed to the mortar in your hands which held the mixture you’d been preparing. “You may touch a man with your hands if it is done in the name of healing, yes?”

Glancing down at the light yellow salve that you used to treat anything from serious infections to chapped lips, you struggled to see where he was going with his question. “Yes, of course, but I do not see how that-”

At that he stepped forward and took the bowl from your hands, setting it back down on the cabinet. “Is it not the same skin covering the tips of your fingers-” He took one of your hands in his own, matching the pads of his digits to yours. “-that covers the pillow of your lips?” Letting go of your hand, he waited, searching your eyes for something that he must not have found, because then he raised his fingers up to touch your lower lip, and you felt yourself letting him.

This is… I… it’s forbidden. I should-

But you didn’t want to stop him. It was such a light touch, but there was a level of intimacy in it that you only now realized that you needed as desperately as the men you cared for needed medicine. “It is.” Your answer was breathless, your heart pounding against your ribs as his hand fell away from your face to land at your waist.

“What else is forbidden?” He used his opposite hand to tilt your chin up so that you couldn’t avoid his eyes. “To love?” The hand at your hip drifted down over the shiny fabric of your robes until you felt his fingers twining with yours and squeezing gently. Moving his fingers from under your chin to the side of your cheek, you watched his expression soften. “Is there not love in every action you take when you are healing the men that have been brought to you?” He swallowed, his brow furrowing. “Do you not feel for them when they die?”

“I… yes, I do. But it… it is not the same th-”

“But it is. You touch. You love. It is not for others to decide for you when and how you may do these things.” He shook his head slowly. “Do not let them keep you in a cage.”

At that you scoffed, the sound coming out more harshly than you meant for it to, and you reached up to remove his hand from the side of your face. “I have already let them do that.” He surprised you by not releasing the hand that he still held. You surprised yourself by not removing it.

“That does not mean that it must continue. I told you that I have studied many things.” You nodded as the man stepped backwards, still holding your hand and guiding you until he was once again seated on the edge of the cot. “One of the things that I have studied was what happens when one of your Order breaks from the Temple.” You felt your heartbeat increase again, the idea of leaving filling you with nervous excitement. “And so I know that if you leave you must never return.”

If you did, your sisters in Purple would put you in the ground. The thought of being sentenced to death and having that sentencing carried out by the women that you lived and worked with should have sent chills straight to the marrow of your bones. But instead added to the buzzing, rushing adrenaline that you felt at the idea of walking away from this life, leaving your robes and the duties they symbolized behind you forever. And that made you realize it was exactly what you wanted to do.

“You are right, Oberyn.” You blinked at him and smiled before turning to reach for the container of salve that you were mixing.

When you spun back in his direction you saw an amused look on his handsome features. “I know that I am,” he answered, a slight laugh deepening his voice and a grin brightening his eyes. “But what is it that I am right about at this moment?”

It was your turn to smirk as you dipped a small cloth in the sweet smelling oil. Without cutting away his torn trousers, you used the compress to apply the mixture to his wound, and even though the slice was shorter than your pinky finger and no deeper than a few layers of skin, he closed his eyes and let out a long sigh of comforted relief at the instant soothing effect of the salve. While his eyes were still closed you dipped a finger in the bowl and spread the oil on your lips.

“Two things,” you responded to his question and again set the bowl behind yourself as he opened his eyes. Before you lost your nerve, you leaned forward and pressed your lips to the scar at the top of his shoulder- the one you personally stitched only a month or two ago- and were rewarded with another satisfied sigh from him, as well as the feel of both of his hands coming to your waist. You rubbed your bottom lip over the area, dragging it the length of the scar and then dropped another kiss there. When you pulled back to finish your answer, his chest was rising and falling with shallow, excited breaths. “One, is that there is no difference between the skin on my fingertips and my lips.” To drive that point home you found another small scar near the first one and kissed it.

He hummed and pressed his thumbs into your flesh through the fabric of your robe- the garment that you would soon be taking off never to be worn again. “And the second?”

“That the world is wide.” You brought your hands up to take his face between them, head moving from side to side. “And I do not wish to live and die all in the same corner of it.” You shrugged. “And if I can never return to Mereen… it just means that I have other places to explore.” You heard rushed footsteps outside of your stall, the sound of Guards and other Graces hurrying to take a wounded fighter to a vacant cot and tuned them out- tuned your past out. Focusing instead on the man who helped you come to terms with your future, you slid one hand back to tangle in his hair. “Other things to explore, too.”

Without hesitation you leaned even closer and brought your lips to his, the door of your cage coming off its hinges as you kissed him fully without an ounce of regret.

And I know just where to start exploring, Oberyn.

Thank you for reading! If you would like to be added to or removed from the tags for this or any of my stories, please feel free to let me know by sending a message or filling out the form on my masterlist!

tags: @something-tofightfor @gollyderek @valkblue @pheedraws @alraedesigns @beefcakebarnes @g0ldenlush @thisgirl-knm @writeforfandoms @fific7 @cannedsoupsucks @revolution-starter @dihra-vesa @disgruntledspacedad @littlemisspascal @mishasminion360 @stevie75 @nyctophiliiiiaaa @practicalghost

#alyssa's 700 follower smoochfest #oberyn martell #pedrostories #forbidden #oberyn martell x female reader #oberyn martell x you #oberyn martell x reader #game of thrones fanfiction #oberyn martell fanfic #kissing bruises and scars #read the warnings please #oberyn martell the red viper of dorne #thank you for this request!

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uenodivision · 3 years

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Division Battle Anthem (Sakurai Clan & Jet Set Trio Ver.)

Bring the Beat!

[Aranai:]

Straight from Ueno City Yeah, you who know it is The name's Aranai Man, I love this shit! Fuck you haters That ain't doing shit You talk behind closed doors? Put up your fists! But be warned: if we fight It ain't gonna be fair I got my bat, my chain And my crew's right here So take my advice: Just take a chill pill Cause if you don't, then I swear Your grave will be filled!

[Tomi:]

You want entry? (Ha!) No can do! This place I built Is for me, not you! The rich and classy Are only allowed You wouldn't be let in Even if you were cowed Pockets so big I can barely stand But that's fine Why? Cause I am the man Been better than you since my adolescence Be honored to stand even in my presence!

---(All)---

Rise up, gladiator! Back off, wussy hater! The Hypnosis Mic is mightier than the sword The punchline decides winners and losers BANG! BANG! BANG! Adrenaline! PUMP! PUMP! PUMP! You have no choice, it's kill or get killed Don't look back

Welcome to the division Welcome to the division (Oh yeah) Welcome to the division Hypnosis busting out this masterpiece! Remember, don't look back

[Shisuta:]

Ueno's devout is finally here As long as my faith is strong, I have no fear! You may think my beliefs are just a crutch But the prayers of the righteous availeth much! God is with me this day Forever he paves my way! Don't believe that, then you're a fool! In the name of the Lord, I challenge you!

[Karada:]

Strong in heart, strong in body My strength makes you look cheap and shoddy And that's two words that don't describe me Everything I do, I do excellently Don't be mad at me because I'm better Be glad (Why?) Cause I'm the best ever Nike has no such thing as a blemish First place is how I always finish!

---(All)---

Rise up, Gladiator! Back off, wussy hater! The Hypnosis Mic is mightier than the sword The punchline decides winners and losers BANG! BANG! BANG! Adrenaline! PUMP! PUMP! PUMP! You have no choice, it's kill or get killed Don't look back

Welcome to the division Welcome to the division (Oh, yeah!) Welcome to the division Hypnosis busting out this masterpiece! Remember, don't look back

[Kisouna:]

The judge's hammer falls, the court's adjourned And your life as you know it has been overturned You can beg, plea, and cry all you want But the decision is final, it won't be undone! Another criminal locked up behind bars Another poor soul that's lost their star But I won't say sorry or apologize Breaking Ueno's laws was unwise!

[Luis:]

The infernal hells will consume you all Opposing me is your downfall! My well of hate, it runs deep And your agony is what I'll reap! Be warned, everywhere I tread Is a wasteland that's filled with dread Victory lies before me And until I obtain it, I won't sleep!

[Aranai:]

Standing above you, I'll reach the top!

[Shisuta:]

My words will deal you a fatal blow!

[Tomi:]

Get real, my mic will decimate you!

[Karada:]

I'm too fast, and you're too slow!

[Aranai:]

Let's go, tough guy!

[Kisouna:]

Well said, Ride or Die!

[Shisuta:]

It is our time to shine!

[Luis:]

What a disappointment

[Tomi:]

We can't be stopped now!

[Kisouna:]

This war is over!

[Karada:]

This, we won't allow!

[Luis:]

We'll take you down!

[Sakurai Clan:]

Roar, my Hypnosis Mic!

[Jet Set Trio:]

Kneel down and beg for forgiveness!

---(All)---

We've got major beef, now we settle it Roar, my Hypnosis Mic Customized to reach your mind directly Rhymes to stir up your brain fluids We're the Trinity, it's showtime We'll rock you with our vibes

Hypnosis busting out this masterpiece! Remember, don't look back It's kill or get killed So don't look back

#hypmic #hypnosis mic #hypnosis microphone #hypmic oc #hypnosis mic oc #sakurai clan #aranai norikoru #shisuta heisha #kisouna yuzairu #ueno division #tomi chōten #karada kessaku #luis kōkyū #jet set trio #aoyama division #division battle anthem

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darkestdesired · 5 years

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The Gladiators Prize

@bugmanor

Warning:Smut,Water sex,swearing,Felix being a sexy and clingy Beast,Poor little reader never stood a chance.

Request: NSFW Felix x Innocent/Shy S/o.

An:I am so so so sorry this is so late,I hope this is ok! It's been a while since I've written smut but i am kind of happy with how this came out.

Gladiators had always been my favorite thing to study in history class,they were usually more beast than man.The stories always ended two ways but always with death,Either the lion or the man were leaving that arena alive.

Most of the time it was the lion.

But i never thought I'd actually get the chance to meet one in real life,That was until i found out that my entire college history class was going to the city of Volterra to visit some of the many wonders it had to offer. I was absolutely stoked,i was living by myself and had been wanting to move there my whole life,I was even saving up and nearly had enough.Might as well see what it had in store for me.

The plane ride over was exhausting but i was so glad when our bus finally arrived,Mrs.Gillard whistled to get everyones attention."Alright everyone,our hotel rooms aren't ready yet so why don't you all check out the shops while we wait." There was a wave of relief filled sighs throughout the group causing her to roll her eyes.She was always such a mean woman. I wondered around next to a few shops before deciding to lean against the wall of an alley,pulling out my favorite book about gladiators and blocking out the ouside world.

"Hello there gorgeous,what is someone as stunning as you doing here all alone?" I heard a deep voice ask,Looking up my face heated up immediately as i saw the devilishly handsome man infront of me.He was like a giant compared to me,but he seemed a bit starstruck as well as our eyes met.

"I-I uh.." It was as if my brain had completely shut down,he didn't seem to mind though since he chuckled."Didn't mean to surprise you cara mia,I simply saw a living goddess and wished to introduce myself." He reached over and gently took my hand in his before bending down and making a show of keeping eyecontact as he kissed my knuckles."You smell absolutely heavenly my dear,and what might your name be?" He said in a gruff sultry voice causing my knees to grow weak. "My n-Name is (Y/n)" i said like the utter mess that i was. He smirked down at me and stepped closer,i dropped my book and tried to move back but i was already against the wall.He listed his arms and successfully trapped me between his hulking body and the brick,The cape he wore blocked me from view from the wondering people that walked around outside.

"Such a lovely name..(Y/n).." My name rolled off his tongue like it was his lifes mission to make me faint from bliss. "My name is Felix Volturi Cara Mia,I suggest you remember it." I gulped,"And why is that..?" His eyes chuckled as what sounded like the mix between a growl and purring erupted from his throat."Because you will be screaming it soon enough."

This is it..This is how i die,i thought as he leaned his face closer,his eyes dark with lust."You are mine.." He purred.Something in me urged me to let go and live in the moment,But the sound of one of my classmates yelling my name broke me out of my trance. With a flustered face i quickly moved his cape and dove under his arm,not even attempting to look at him in fear that i might fully lose control.

He watched as i ran out of the valley and out of sight,bending down he picked up my book.He sniffed the book and purred at my scent,He chuckled when he saw the title of the book."Mmm we are destined my little flower,You can not hide from me."

Tossing and turning in bed i huffed before sitting up,I had been lucky enough to not have a roomate,but even that joy couldn't suppress the events of the day.I couldn't get felix out of my head,I had never had someone so attractive talk to me before,and especially not like that.Thinking back on it he looked a lot like the gladiators in my book,if i didn't know any better i would have assumed he was one.

Realizing i wasn't going to be falling asleep anytime soon i decided a nice bath in the tub that seemed more like a pool compared to mine back home would get rid of the heated fantasies that brought a blush to my (S/c) cheeks,Tredding my way into the gorgeous bathroom i undressed on my way there,not even bothering to pick them up on the way, before hopping into the nice steamy water.

I guess that's why i didn't hear the sound of the window opening.

Felix sniffed the air,causing him to lick his lips when he could still smell the traces of my lust,he thanked the gods when he saw my cute but sexy black panties laying onthe floor.Not even hesitating he picking them up and breathed in my scent,barely stopping the growl that threatened to escape.He stuffed them into his pocket before getting undressed,setting his clothes on a chair.There he leaned against the doorframe and watched as i played with myself,i forgot to shut the bathroom door.Since the tub was round i sat with my back to him,Not even realizing the danger i was in.

Sighing in pleasure i added another finger to my tight pussy,"Ah..Mm...Felix..." I moaned. Biting my lip i leaned my head back against the edge of the bath."That's right,say my name again Cara mia." My eyes shot open and i saw Felix standing over me with a sly smirk. Gasping i quickly turned and sat on the other side ,Blushing furiously when i saw the state he was in. "Do not be frightened my love,I told you you are mine." He stepped into the tub until he was knelt between my thighs.

"H-How..How did you get in here..?" I asked,Shaking despite the warm water that engulfed me. He chuckled,"I have my ways,Now let us continue where we left off,Shall we?" Leaning in he captured my lips,he started off gently and waited as i froze with wide eyes.It only took a a few seconds before i melted in and began kissing him back.

From there the kiss got more and more heated,His strangely cold hands grazed at my fragile skin from my shoulders to my breasts,He swallowed my moans as he kneaded my breasts and piched my now perky nipples.My hands held on his braud shoulders for support,Knowing if i let go i would likely sink into the water. Pulling away he licked his lips hungrily as he saw my blazed out expression,"Look at you,So needy for your gladiator hm? Does the idea of such a strong man claiming you turn you on? You are my prize for all of my victories my dear,it is time to claim what is rightfully mine." He pushed his knee forward and smirked,obviously pleased as i began to rut against his thigh involuntarily."That's it,Give into the pleasure." He grinned when he pulled away his knee,eliciting a whine."Do not worry my dear,I will give you what you desire." Grabbing my thighs and wrapping them around his waste he wasted no time in guiding his large member into my aching core.

He hissed and clenched his eyes tight in ecstasy when he was fully sheathed in my warmth,"Fuck..You are so tight my goddess..Tell me..Am i the first man to taint your sacred flesh? Tell me! For i shall hunt down any who has dared to take what is mine." He growled while mercilessly pounding into me once i had gotten used to his size. "N-No..I..I was.." He grinned widely,his dark red eyes glowing as he drowned in the beautiful sound of my moans."You are mine! Do you hear me? No one will dare to even think about taking you from me once i am done with you! Tell me you are mine!I will treat you like a queen." He reached down and grabbed my chin,not to hurt me in the slightest but to force me to look deep into his eyes."I-I am yours! Please Felix..Ahn..hah.." Tears poured down my cheeks,wrapping my arms around his neck he nipped at my neck,causing me to wriggle.

Now that i had accepted him he was going to ensure that i would not be able to walk for the next month.Leaning back he pulled me with him so that i was now riding him,He opted to watch as i bounced on top,enjoying the sight of my breasts bouncing.

"Forget all about the life you have lived before my innocent little mate,i am never letting you go again." I was so blissed out that all i could do was nod,running my hands down his stunning abs.

"Fe-Felix..I'm so close..Please..!"He licked a a stripe up my throat,relishing in the shiver the visibly rolled up my skin."As am i cara mia,Come for me!" With a few more harsh thrusts i felt my body spasm in the most amazing pleasure i had ever felt before.I could hear his grunts as his hands tightened on my thighs,"Fuck...(Y/n)!" He hissed.

I kissed his forehead before burying my head in his shoulder,letting exhaustion take over."All mine." Was the last thing i heard before darkness consumed me.

When i finally awoke i was dressed in an unfamiliar bedroom with my back pressed against a cold chest,arms secured protectively around my waist."Go back to sleep my love,You are home now." Felix's deep comforting voice said against my shoulder causing me to smile."Hmm.." Was my only response as i buried myself deeper into him and drifted back to sleep.

My gladiator kept his word,He never let me go.

#volturi imagine #twilight imagine #felix volturi #felix volturi x reader #felix volturi imagines #felix volturi imagine #twilight

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internalsealpanic · 3 years

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Have you ever tought about a medieval au with Slade? So intense��

I HAVE AND I HAVE TO NOT LET THE IDEA OF IT CONSUME MY EVERY WAKING MOMENT. I am this 🤏 close to making either a straight up royal au where he's your loyal and begrudgingly protective knight or be a bitch and make a Witcher au complete with a failed romance or another spoils of war thing ( no I am not done with the first one. I have only written the horny part because I straight up have no self control. As I write this I realize that one of my other Slade fics has that vibe too. I just want him to condescend to me and give me pretty dresses. I am not asking for much.)

Long story short, I have thought about it a little.

Edit: THE GLADIATOR AU STILL NEEDS TO BE FINISHED

#Slade wilson #slade wilson will haunt my ass to the grave #every time I try to write someone else either him or Dick show up and my dumb ass is weak #HELP #anon #i shrieked and I have now gotten my revenge on the stupid soft kitty incident

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poptimus-prime · 4 years

Text

Oh no here we go. I have been...Egged On (lovingly.)

I didn’t come up with this concept. You know who you are and I hope you’re happy. (ILU)

My usual Blacklist Tags apply as they fit and will be in the tags, however I will warn above the cut for: Major character death (but not really), attempted Fratricide, and Megatron being a lying bitch.

Please don’t read if you’re not in a good headspace in general I want you to stay safe. <3

This will be put on AO3 probably tonight IDK.

“Megatronus? You said you wanted to meet me here?”

“Yes I did, dear friend.” Megatron had a ghost of a smile on his lips, gently wrapping an arm around Orion’s shoulders so he wouldn’t turn back. “I want to show you something.”

“You do?” Orion’s eyes twinkled like stars as he smiled. Megatron sighed internally as he opened the ground bridge, flip-flopping as he considered the choice he was about to make.

------

“Are you sure you can do this?” Knockout had asked him as he punched in coordinates. “He IS your brother in this state.”

“My brother died on Cybertron.” Megatron spat, before a softness came to his voice. “And even as he is revived and before me, he still holds his form, and the Autobot pets of Optimus Prime will never give up. I would rather him perish by my own hand than that parasitic Matrix consume him again.”

“...If you say so, my liege.”

------

“Close your eyes.” Megatron almost chirped. “No peeking, Orion.”

Orion brought his servos to his face, maybe spreading his digits to try to peak as they walked through the ground bridge. Mischievous little slag, Megatron thought to himself

“I said no peeking.” Megatron put his own servo in front of Orion’s face as they came out the other side. Personally, he thought the scene was disgusting, honestly—wildflowers, songbirds, the sunset—disgusting organic, Earth things. But...he knew Orion would enjoy it.

“Can I please look noooow, Megatronus?” Orion was squirming a bit. Impatiently curious as ever.

“You can.” Megatron removed his servo for Orion to see, and a pain shot through his spark as the smaller bot gasped in a nostalgic, familiar wonder.

“It’s so beautiful, Megatronus.” Orion spoke, keeping that same wonder. “Thank you for bringing me here.”

“Of course, Orion.” Megatron forced a smile. “You have been working so hard, all cooped up in that lab. You deserve a little break.”

Orion leaned against Megatron, resting his helm against his shoulder. “I did need a break. I appreciate you taking the time to spend it with me, Brother.”

Megatron’s spark kept burning in pain as the sky turned from dusky orange to purple and then to dark blue, stars lighting up the night sky in ways Orion could only imagine until now. His face stayed perpetually lit up in absolute adoration for the scene, occasionally taking in a vent to smell the wildflowers and humming along with the birds.

The last thing the archivist expected was Megatron to walk in front of him. His friend’s ion cannon in his face, charging.

His spark fell into his tanks and his mouth went dry as he looked up at Megatron. His friend—his brother—was crying as the cannon continued charging.

“Megatronus…?”

“Shhh, Orion...just.” Megatron took a shaky vent to stabilize himself. “Just offline your optics. I...I promise this will be fast. You will not be in pain.”

“What are you doing?!” Orion demanded, starting to cry himself.

“...Some sparks were not made for war, Orion.” He spoke softly, sounding like he was choking. “You are one of those sparks. And I would rather you have a quick, painless death than the slow torture you would endure if the Autobots got their disgusting hands on you…”

Orion’s lips were pressed tightly together, his naïveté taking hold as the implications of Megatron’s explanation ran through his processor. “I...will miss you, Megatronus. But I trust your judgement. Do it.”

Megatron cursed silently. Even as the gladiator stood before Orion, about to kill him...he still trusted him. He shifted his canon down to Orion’s waist, pressed in a place that would kill him fast enough, but not instantly.

He looked away as the canon fired and Orion’s screams of pain chased the birds away. When he looked back, Orion’s face was frozen in a silent scream, and he slowly collapsed against Megatron’s chest.

Megatron bit back a scream of sorrow as he ran a clawed servo against Orion’s helm, petting him gently for a few seconds before lifting him up in a fireman’s carry and bringing him over to a patch of soft grass under a tree. He shuddered as Orion’s Energon dripped down onto his shoulder, but continued on. Orion looked up at him weakly as he was laid down. Afraid.

“I am so sorry, Brother.” Megatron sighed. “I have to leave you now. I...cannot handle watching you be robbed from me by this war again.”

Orion took a shaky vent before his optics offlined suddenly. Megatron thanked Primus that his brother’s spark extinguished quickly.

The gladiator looked up at the branches of the tree as he attempted to stop his tears. An olive tree. Symbol of peace or...something. Orion loves...loved that sappy metaphoric slag. Megatron ripped off a branch and laid it across Orion’s chest before he turned around, requesting a ground bridge.

------

Seconds after Megatron left, Orion’s optics onlined again, and he gasped out as he began crying softly. He was scared, in pain, leaking Energon…

And abandoned. By his brother, no less.

#tw emotional abuse #because the lying #tw physical abuse #just in case #tw robogore #tfp megatron #tfp orion pax #luna writes a cohesive thing? gasp #major canon divergence up in this bitch #if this is reblogged and tagged as ship I will be coming for your kneecaps #I'm sorry but this is not the place #They explicitly call each other brothers in this bitch

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