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tpwk-formula1 · 3 days

Note

Lando, Sicilian Crust, Red Sauce, Pepperoni, Tomatoes, Mushrooms, Coke, Root beer, Lemonade, Sparkling Water.

But the scenario is the readers got thick thighs, and she’s a little chubby (coming from a chubby girl🥹), she’s constantly talking down on her self and insecure. And lando won’t have it, so he is desperate to make her feel better about herself. (Make sex in front of a mirror?)

Lee-Lee's Pizzeria Menu

sicilian dating red sauce rough sex pepperoni "Be a good girl, and you'll get what you want" tomatoes "Do you enjoy pissing me off?" mushrooms "Wrong, wanna try again" coke spanking root beer daddy kink lemonade body worship sparkling water spitting dessert yes served by Lando Norris

AN - Omg yay! I loved getting this request as I am also a fellow chubby girl! If anyone else has plus size requests please send them in as I am passionate about wanting there to be representation for everyone <3 Lee-Lee

TW - spanking, spitting into mouth, blow job, unprotected sex, cum swallowing, some degrading terms, body worship and appreciation

Y/N POV

I groan again while staring into the mirror. I knew I wasn't the ideal wag and I will never understand why Lando had picked me. The reflection in the mirror showed me a girl with thighs that touched, wide-set hips, and a belly that most people made sure to point out in the comment section of any photos released of me.

I stare a few more seconds before I start pinching at my sides trying to see how soft they had grown over the past few months. I feel the tears well in my eyes when I realize nothing is changing. I had tried dieting but then after a few weeks and a couple pounds down I find myself giving up again.

I'm so lost in my own world of self-hatred I don't hear Lando come home and I sure as hell don't hear him come into the bathroom leaving again the door frame with his arms crossed.

"Do you enjoy pissing me off?" Lando suddenly announces making me jump slightly and wrap my arms around my body to try and hide still embarrassed at being caught.

"Lando, I- I was just getting ready for the day," I lie softly not even believing myself. Lando raises a brow at me before approaching making me step back slightly. When Lando reaches me he softly removes my arms from my body just eying me up and down. I feel myself growing red in embarrassment not enjoying the feeling of his eyes on my bare body.

Wordlessly Lando takes my hips into his hands gently squeezing them before turning me towards the mirror so I can stare at myself. With Lando standing behind my I feel his arms wrapped around my hips while starting to trail his hands up and down in admiration.

"So beautiful," Lando mumbles softly placing a soft kiss on my should. I try my best to keep eye contact with Lando not wanting to see my body against his touch knowing my thighs would dwarf his wandering hands.

"I love you," Lando says softly starting to trail kisses around my shoulders and the back of my neck making my breathing pick up.

"So fucking beautiful," Lando says while pinching my hip softly before rubbing it in a soothing manner.

"Watch yourself in the mirror," Lando says roughly making my eyes instantly snap to where his hand is now wandering up my sides grazes his touch past my stomach roll before settling his hands near my face.

When his fingers graze my lips he mutters a soft beautiful before trailing his hands to my heavy tits giving them a stong squeeze making me gaso.

"These tits are gonna be the death of me one day, so fucking good," Lando says confidently giving one of my nipples a soft flick instantly making it harden.

"And this," Lando started while rubbing my stomach softly making me cringe away from his touch making him drop his hands to his sides and stare at me in the mirror.

"Wrong, wanna try again," Lando says after a moment before bringing his hands back to my stomach this time trying to relax into his touch.

"This stomach you love to pinch and probe at, will one day carry our children. That thought alone makes me hard," Lando says softly making me gasp when he grinds his jean-covered crotch into my thick ass letting me know just the sight of me turned him on.

"I wish you could see yourself through my eyes," Lando adds softly moving his hands down to my thighs giving them a soft rub before landing a soft slap on them making me whine.

"And these fucking thighs! My favorite thing in the world. After a good race, I just wanna burry my face between them, after a bad race I can't wait to get back to the hotel to hide between them and let all my problems away, these are the best thing the Lord could have blessed me with," Lando says softly while rubbing them. He was back to laying soft kisses around my neck before I feel his teeth sink into the side of my neck before leaving a small hickey.

"Oh! And this fucking pussy," Lando says softly digging his fingers through my folds finding them to be coated in a light layer of my juices. Having Lando softly rubbing his hands around my body had definitely turned me on a bit.

"This pussy and the best pussy a man could have. Too bad I will never share it again," Lando says softly before lifting my thigh and resting my foot on the counter so he can burry his fingers into my pussy making me gasp and throw my head back onto Lando's shoulder when he hits my G-spot.

"Feels so good," I whine softly clenching around Lando's fingers before they're ripped out of my pussy leaving me gasping for a breath,

"No daddy," I whine not wanting him to stop.

"Be a good girl, and you'll get what you want. Count them for me," Lando says roughly letting me know he was about to spank me.

The first slap rang out through the room startling me just a bit.

"one" i mumble softly.

"two" I groan a little louder after the second much harsher slap landed on my left ass cheek.

"I love the way your ass shakes when I slap it," Lando said before landing another rough slap on the exact same spot making me scream out softly.

"three," I finally gasp out still trying to catch my breath.

"four," I scream out with the fourth slap lands on the top of my right ass cheek.

"Last one," Lando says softly while rubbing his hand over the last spank he had landed.

"Five, oh my god," I scream while my knees buckle only staying up because of Lando's strong grip. The last one was always the hardest one but today it was so much harder than normal. It knocked the wind out of me in shock.

"Did so good for me. Took your punishment so well baby," Lando says softly turning me around to give me a soft kiss.

"Open," lando says roughly cleaning moving from punishment mode to 'I ned to fuck you right now' mode.

When I part my lips and open my mouth I wait as Lando gather s a bit of spit before spitting right down my throat some hitting my bottom lip making me moan before swallowing.

"Good girl," Lando says before flipping me back to look at myself in the mirror again. Lando was still fully dressed which changed rather quickly cause he started stripping down not having any time to waste.

When I feel Lando poking at my folds I moan softly while pushing my hips back trying to get some kind of stimulation which finally came when Lando roughly sunk down fully into me.

"Oh god," I moan out when his hips hit my sore ass making the the slight burning sensation instantly turn from pain to pleasure.

“It’s too much, daddy,” I moan when Lando speeds up his thrusting making me grip onto the counter harder to make sure I don’t fall.

“Watch the mirror, I want you to see how beautiful you are,” Lando grunts while reaching between our bodies to find my swollen clit to give it a few pinches before rubbing it in circles.

“God, you have the wettest fucking pussy, baby girl,” Lando groans collectiving some on his fingers before bringing his wet fingers to his mouth and cleaning them off while moaning at the flavor.

“You’re fucking delicious baby,” Lando whispers while bringing his fingers back to my clit making me instantly tense around Lando’s cock in anticipation of an orgasm.

“Can I cum,” I moan feeling my orgasm approaching making Lando speed up his actions, and throwing me off the edge and into a knee buckling orgasm as soon as he have me the go ahead.

“Fuck daddy,” I scream out as I feel the peak of my orgasm hit, making the world around me go dark slightly letting my body feel all of the pleasure coursing through my body. Lando helps me ride out the longest orgasm I’ve ever had before softly slipping out of my pussy making me whine from overstimulation.

“On you knees,” Lando grunts making me turn around and drop to my knees and instantly reach for his cock but he pulls away while shaking his head.

“I need you to listen to me real quick,” Lando says making me nod and trail my eyes from his soaked cock up to his eyes to show he has my full attention.

“You are the most beautiful woman I have ever laid eyes on. You have been my best friend our entire relationship and I have loved every aspect of who you are. So I’ll be damned if you hate even the smallest speck on yourself when all I can ever fucking see is perfection,” Lando tells me softly making me smile back at him.

“It’s just hard sometimes. I see the girls who would do anything for even a second of your times. I see the other wags and can’t help but compare. And i see the comments, i know you see them too and while even if I was skinny they would still find a reason to be dicks it’s just hard sometimes,” I tell him softly making him scoff each time I compared myself to someone else but watched as his eyes softened at the mention of the comments.

“All Im saying is I better not come back home to find you pinching your sides or damn near in tears at the sight you see in the mirror,” Lando says back making me nod my head.

“Daddy can I please finish you off now,” I whine getting impatient with staring at his hard cock. Lando just chuckles before stepping closer and leaning down slightly to spit in my mouth again. I savor the flavor this time before swallowing his spit.

When I open my mouth again Lando instantly shoves his cock down my throat making me gag slightly.

“Prettiest fucking slut Ive ever laid eyes on.” Lando groans still on his complimenting run but too lost in the pleasure to not throw in some teasing nicknames.

I feel Lando’s pace start to falter which makes me bob my head faster wanting to keep the same momentum as he starts cumming down my throat.

I do my best to swallow every drop he gives me before he’s slowly pulling out if my mouth. I feel a bit of cum leak down the side of my lips and before I can wipe it away Lando is crashing his lips onto mine now caring about the cum.

“I love you so much! Be nice to yourself,” Lando tells me softly making me nod my head in agreement.

When Lando helps me from the cold ground he draws us a bath. When we both sink into the hot water I can see the stress of the day melt away for Labdo while I i feel all my tense muscles slowly start to relax.

“What triggered it?” Lando asked softly.

“I was getting ready to take a shower and kinda got lost,” i replied back softly making Lando wrap his arms around me a little tighter.

“M’sorry I wasn’t here early to prevent it,” he tells me while leaning down to place a soft kiss on my cheek.

“Wasnt your fault,” I reply back shrugging a little. We both know I would do it again but I also knew it didn’t matter to Lando cause I was always gonna be his girl.

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yutarot · 2 days

Text

IN PERFECT SYNC [j.jh smau]

eighteen — it was me. wc: 2.0k

you still.

the timing, the fucking timing.

your finger hovers over the accept button, the green light reflecting off your thumb as if its warning you off from the consequences of pressing it.

you couldn’t possibly accept it, i mean, after that conversation the other day, jaehyun drenched through at your doorstep as you implied your clear distaste towards him, you would just feel weak answering the call.

you didn’t need to know why he was calling. right?

so you decline.

it feels good for a total of 13 minutes. until he calls again. and again.

maybe it’s urgent, you reason with yourself. maybe he needs me.

but nothing in this world could ever make jeong jaehyun need you, you were confident of that after hearing all those rumours two years ago.

he never needed you. he never wanted you.

so why now?

fuck it.

the next call, you pick up.

he’s silent, but you can hear him breathing softly on the other end of the phone. and you’re sure that he can hear the same from yours.

after a few moments, he speaks.

“yn..” he says slowly, as if he’s testing out the word on his lips for the first time. but you know it’s not the first, and now your curious of his carefulness. “we need to talk.”

you sigh, but it’s not in annoyance. you’re not sure what it’s in, but it’s definitely not happiness either. it’s somewhere.. in between.

“did something happen?” you ask, quiet, almost a whisper.

you don’t need to see his face to know he’s saying no, that he’s saying there’s something else. his silence speaks the words for him.

so you continue. “i’ll be over in 10. this better be worth my time, jeong.”

he clears his throat, “thank you.” as he hangs up. leaving you wondering what the hell he wants you for.

and why the hell you’re agreeing to it.

you knock on his door, one, two, three times. it’s a little signature thing you and jaehyun used to do in highschool, he knew you were nervous to answer the door to strangers, so he came up with the idea of knocking 3 times, in even beats, everytime you were at eachothers door. all so you knew that it was him. all so that you would feel safe.

you move the thoughts aside when he opens the door.

this isn’t like the other day, this is different. he looks at you for a moment, a small hint of a smile tracing his lips before its gone as quick as it came, vanished into the cold darkness of the night behind you.

“yutas out.” he starts, “come in.”

slowly, you creep into his dorm. it looks exactly the same as when he started. it looks exactly the same as the night you confronted him about the rumours, the night you cried at him until your throat was sore.

you sit on the couch in the middle of the room, jaehyun sitting on the coffee table in front of you, leaning his elbows onto his knees as he looks to the floor.

“why did you want me here, jaehyun?” you ask.

he looks up, face unreadable.

he’s silent again. still.

all you can hear is your heart, speed gaining and gaining and-

“it was me.”

it stops. not only your heart, but seemingly time around you too.

you’re finding it hard to distinguish between the rush of blood to your head and the anguish you feel from hearing those three words out loud. from no one’s lips except the man you hate the most. the man you least expected to mutter them.

it.

was.

me.

they keep replaying over and over in your mind.

it.

was.

me.

you can’t stop it, like a broken record, a carousel that refuses to halt.

like a lie that spiralled too far.

“you’re lying.” you spurt.

it.

was.

me.

he gulps, shaking his head side to side in small, reluctant movements. in disagreement.

“i know how this looks.” he replies. “but yn, please-“

it.

was.

me.

“no.” you interrupt him, standing to your feet.

he stands with you. “please.”

the words stop playing in your head as you watch him. his eyes pleading with you, a face you have never seen him wear.

“please, yn.”

you sit again. he sits with you.

“fine.” you reply.

“it’s been eating away at me, yn. its been eating away at me since the scores were announced.”

your eyebrows furrow. you thought he was just telling you he had been sending you the messages, a sick cruel means of messing with you.

“what?”

“i sabotaged my own team.”

now, you’re silent.

he continues. “i’m a horrible person yn, i should never have done this to my team, i should have never done this to you.”

“…why?” you murmur.

“your mother.”

you look up, expecting some sick, disgusting ‘ur mom’ joke, but he laughs in exhale.

“no, no, no, not like that.” he says, “i’m serious.” he pauses to look at you, “you never told me the reason you started ballet was to continue your mothers dream, why did you never tell me that?”

“why should i?”

“because it changes everything, yn!”

his outburst shocks you, and he mutters an apology before continuing, speaking quietly.

“look,” he’s barely above a whisper. “i already found it hard enough to pretend i hated you. i couldn’t let myself beat you, i couldn’t take that away from you, yn, no matter how much you may hate me. i can’t hate you the way you do, me.”

you’re confused. so if he really did sabotage his team, that means he really is..

Y..

and that means that every single message he sent was true.

“but how…?” you whisper, confusion lining your face.

his head cocks to the side. you continue.

“how could you… mean any of that.. after what you did?”

his face goes stone cold. he looks back to the ground.

you quickly take it back, regretting your decision to bring that up. “never mind, forget i asked, im leav-“

“it’s not true.” he’s still staring at the rug below your feet. you can hear the clock on his wall, ticking away, and counting each and every thought as it speeds past your mind.

“wha-“

“none of it. none of it is true, yn.” he looks up at you, his face of pleading is gone, replaced by a stern expression.

jaehyun has rehearsed this moment in his head over and over, ever since you were 18. ever since he was falsely accused of using you.

he stands up, looking down at you and he speaks.

“i never spoke shit about you to any of the girls i slept with, yn. i never told them you were annoying, that you were ugly or that i was just keeping you around to make myself look better. i never thought any of that.”

you struggle to breathe, to absorb everything he’s telling you.

“yn, it wasn’t like that. i told one girl about you.”

“oh great, that helps, thanks jaehyun.” you say sarcastically.

but he interrupts you.

“no. i told her how sweet you are. how pretty and perfect you are. about how every time i would leave the room without my phone, you would take it and fill my camera roll with cute little photos of yourself. i told her about how i kept every single one, in fear that if i was to ever lose you, i would have a lifetime supply of you, stored away in my pocket.”

you blink.

“i never wanted to get rid of you, yn. i wanted you for myself. the only problem was, she wanted me for herself. so she created the rumour that i said all those horrible things about you, spread by other girls who wanted me like she did, in hopes that you would hear about it and leave me. and you did. and i don’t blame you one bit.”

“but…” you can’t process it, not yet. you can’t believe the words hes telling you. this whole time you had been so set on how you felt, you’d been so set on how much you hated him. “why didn’t you tell me the truth.”

“i didn’t want you to find out.”

your eyebrows fold in confusion and he explains.

“i was 18, i was stupid and afraid that having a crush on my bestfriend was a horrible idea. so i couldn’t let you find out. i decided that letting you hate me would be the easier option. well, for you. for me though, it’s was hell. well, i mean, i have all those selfies of you in my camera roll still, that helped a little.” he laughs, but you don’t find it funny.

jaehyun, the man you’ve hated for two years, the man you loved for many more. here he was, telling you how much you mean to him, to the point where he chose your happiness over his own.

“oh my god…” you whine, “how did i not realise.”

“what?” he asks, concerned.

“yuno. thats what Y stands for.”

he laughs, and it’s warm. for the first time in 2 years, you feel comforted, excited by what the future brings.

after talking for the next hour, you discover that jaehyun really didn’t realise it was giselle he slept with, thinking it was just some random ncu girl.

you no longer have reason to hate jaehyun and the guilt you feel overwhelms you. jaehyun realises that you have alot to take in, and he doesn’t expect an apology, but you can’t leave him without giving one. not after all the hatred you have given him.

he walks you to his door.

“goodnight yn, thank you for hearing me out.”

“hey jae,” his eyes light up at the nickname, just like the other night, except this time, the light lingers. “i’m sorry, for everything.”

“no, don’t be, it was my fault. i was the one who let you believe it was true. i was the one who let you hate me.”

you smile, “then.. thank you.”

“goodnight, yn.”

“goodnight, jae.”

he goes to shut the door, but you remember something.

you rememeber one message.

a message from Y.

a message from jaehyun.

“i’m over you.” you repeat the message as if you’re asking a question.

his eyes widen for a split second before settling back to his normal, cold image.

“i meant it.” he says, “im over you.”

you nod, slowly, giving him a small smile and twisting on your heel and out the door.

he shuts it gently behind you.

he’s over you.

his words come back, spinning over and over again in your mind.

it was me.

one word sticks out to you. one word slap-bang, directly in the middle.

one word that changes everything, yet nothing at the same time.

one word.

‘was.’

mlist — next

notes; my GOSH it’s been so difficult hiding this from u guys in the replies hating so much on jaehyun 😞😞 i really hope you enjoyed this chapter (if you’ve read the tags then you know what’s coming) thank you for getting this far, and i hope you look forward to what’s next!

taglist — open; @https-yeonjun @chenlesfavorite @therealbobbyshloby @f6llsun @jkslvsnella @nanaxwi @cloudmrk @neocrashed @vernonburger @vividwritess @taeeflwrr @mmjhh1998 @cyjzzl @stareaa @minkyuncutie @mrkleelvr @dudekiss3r @nattan127 @slayhaechan @jaeveil @tynlvr @mslora @nosungluv @grassbutneo @dokyriu @girlz4jaem @axo-l0tl @yyangj3lly @solvrse @m1ng1swife @gentlepeach @xiuriii @soobinbunnie5 @tocupid @apolloxxivmin @ctrlstar @gyuguys @tokitosun @i-kai @flamingi @mrkleelvr @en-dream @queenrachelpink @ssweetreveries @swanyvess @flaminghotyourmom @hyuck-me @cryingforjae @hizhu @starfilledgaze

#nct #nct smau #nct 127 #nct fanfic #nct college au #jeong jaehyun smau #jaehyun smau #jaehyun x reader #jaehyun nct #nct jaehyun #jeong jaehyun #jaehyun fanfic #jaehyun

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rosenclaws · 3 days

Note

Logan Howlett x gn!reader who’s not a mutant, but has a very high precognitive sense (in which they can sense when a ball might hit someone and catch it without looking / or anything similar to the matter heh)

warnings: gn!reader, the reader is crazy flirty with logan, some drunk assholes being dicks, it gets a little suggestive idk how I keep doing this.

a/n: Okay i can’t lie i was struggling a little bit coming up with an idea but i did my best. Shout out to @huffle-punk for helping me ily bitch

Logan was no stranger to seedy bars. In fact he might call them his home away from home. He just needed an out. A place that actually served alcohol for once. The mansion was nice and all but sometimes the man needed a drink. So he hopped on his motorcycle and rode for a while until he stumbled upon some hole in the wall.

He scoped out the bar as soon as he walked in. Taking note of everyone who was there. It was mostly dead. Some loud assholes by the darts and a few people sitting in the booths but that's about it. He was naturally alert. His kind weren’t always welcome in places like these.

“What can I get for you?" The bartender nods towards him as he sits on one of the bar stools. Logan takes out a 20 and hands it to the guy.

"You got Molson Ex?" The guy nods and cracks one open for him.

"Whiskey sour please." A voice next to him says.

He glances over to see you standing at the bar. Now that peeks his interest. You look too good to be here in a place like this. You catch his glance and smirk.

"Never seen you here before." You take the seat next to him. He was a stranger for sure but a very good looking one. Logan cocks an eyebrow before taking another sip of his beer.

"Not a talker huh handsome?"

"You always this forward with strangers?" Logan asks, slightly amused by your flirting.

"Only when they're hot. You should be flattered."

The bartender comes back with your drink and before you can pay Logan gestures to put it on his tab. You take a sip of your drink and set it down close to his beer. Logan turns his body towards you, letting you see just how built this man was. You bite your lip as you shamelessly look him up and down.

"You got somewhere to be?" Logan asks a playful smirk on his lips.

"Nope."

You don't know how much time has passed since you started talking to Logan. He was one of those mysterious brooding guys, not even a last name as you flirt up a storm. That's okay, you don't need to know his last name. The space between you two got smaller and smaller as the night went on. Moving away from the barstools to the back of the room. More hidden, more private. His hands have found their way to your back. Holding you close as he leans in close.

"Logan..." You hum as you trail your hand up his chest. Gently grabbing onto his shirt. You roll your eyes as the group of guys by the darts start to get rowdier. The more alcohol they have in them the more obnoxious they get.

"We should get out of here." He hums, he registers your words but he doesn't move. Instead leaning closer, his lips ghosting your jaw as he gently nips below your ear.

You body tenses as your hand shoots out before you can even think, catching the dart that was heading directly for Logan's neck. Logan looks at you in slight confusion. How you managed to react so quickly.

"Hey assholes!" You slip out from Logan's arms and march over to them.

"Watch where you're fucking throwing these things." You throw the dart on the table.

"Or what?" One them gets up, he's not as intimidating as he thinks but he's clearly drunk. You roll your eyes and turn to leave. A hand grabs your wrist harshly and pulls you back. In a flash Logan is by your side. Practically ripping the guys hand off you and pushing him into the table.

"Don't fucking touch 'em bub." Logan growls.

Your eyes widen as you see metal peek out from his knuckles. He's a mutant. The drunk guys scramble away from him. You tug on Logan's arm. Noticing stares from the rest of the people, fear in their eyes. "Come on," He sheathes his claws and looks around. Wordlessly he storms out of the bar with you hot on his heels. He reaches into his jacket and pulls out a cigar, letting out a small groan as he lights it.

"You alright?" Logan asks, noticing that you've followed him out.

"Yeah I'm okay. Are you?" He takes another puff of his cigar and nods.

"Those are some crazy reflexes."

"Yeah, I don't know I've just always had them but I'm not a..." You trail off as you become unsure if you should say anything.

"A mutant?" He finishes for you. He laughs, shaking his head as he gets on his motorcycle.

"Wait Logan! I, I like you and I'm sorry those assholes ruined our night but I don't want it to end." You place your hand on top of his.

It's been flirty, fun, casual up until now but there's a clear attraction that you can't ignore, you don't want to ignore it.

"You sure you can handle a mutant?" Your hand jerks away as his claws come out. Oh that's how he wants to play it.

"I can handle some kitty claws Logan," You tease, running your fingers along his claws.

"The real question is, can you handle me?"

#logan howlett #logan howlett x reader #wolverine #wolverine x reader #logan howlett x you

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shinestarhwaa · 1 day

Text

CALLIN || JEONG YUNHO

Genre: Smut

Pairing: Yunho x Fem Reader

Word Count: 0.7K

Tags/Warnings: Established relationship AU, Idol!Yunho, Gf!yn, dirty language, unprotected sex, calling during sex, degrading, mild spanking, ateez mentioned

Taglist: @anyamaris @a-soft-hornytiny @whatudowhennooneseesyou @wooyoungmybelovedhusband @woosanbby @dreamlesswonder86 @changbinslovelylegs @jonghostie @lovjensoo @mjyungi @bratty-tingz @sugarnspice630 @stardragongalaxy @bro-atz @wisejudgedragonhairdo @mingisg00dgirl @vesvosmozhno @therealcuppicake @unholywriters @enbymingi @jjoongstar

ENJOY!

While your boyfriend Yunho's deep inside you, your phone rings. "B-Babe, babe stop it's Hongjoong, I have to take it," you whimper. Yunho smirks at you as he pushes into you harder from behind, hands gripping your ass tightly.

"Why do you give Hongjoong any attention while I'm fucking you," he grunts, not planning on stopping anytime soon. "Yunie!" You cry out, trying to reach for your phone. Finally you grab it and pick up the call. Yunho slows down his thrusts so it will be quieter, but he definitely does not stop fucking you.

Your breathing is still faster than normal when you pick up the phone."J-joong? Hi!" "Hi...? Why are you panting like that?" Hongjoong asks. "Oh, i-it's nothing, I was working out. What's up?" Yunho grinned and slapped your ass, only to tease you and get a reaction out of you.

You yelp and fall forward. "I'm okay! I'm okay I just nearly misstepped on the stairs!" You lie. "Ah... okay, be careful, Y/N," Hongjoong says. "I just wanted to remind you that the dinner changed from 7PM to 8PM tonight, so we'll pick you up around 7.45PM, yeah?"

"Y-Yes Hongjoong!" You say, but it sounded too whimpery. "What are you doing, Y/N?" Hongjoong asks again. "N-nothing, I've got to go now though, see you tonight!" You exclaimed before ending the call.

Yunho forces himself into you, balls deep without a warning. "Yes, Hongjoong huh? You want Hongjoong to fuck your little pussy?" Yunho grunts into your ear, "You want the Captain to fuck you until you cry? You know he doesn't have a cock like I do baby, none of them do, I could just split your pretty pussy open on my cock, baby."

You whine loudly as you feel tingles in your abdomen, and your breath quickens. "Please, please, I wanna cum, I wanna cum!" "Do you deserve it after this?" Yunho asks. "I-I didn't do anything!" You cry out.

"Admit that you want Hongjoong to fuck you and I might let you come. Admit that you want him to bend you over and stuff your pussy with his cum. Admit that you want him to fuck you in his studio. Fuck, we could use your moans in a song baby you'd sound so pretty. I'm sure you want that, don't you?"

You moan loudly and grasp onto the dark sheets. "Yes, yes, yes!" You're not sure if you're saying yes to fucking Hongjoong or being fucked into oblivion by Yunho but either way all you could get out is yes.

Yunho rams into you one more time before your body shakes and comes undone on his cock. "That's it baby, that's my little slut, wanting to fuck my whole team huh? Bet you're dreaming about all of them. Well maybe you should fuck them, so you'll be reminded of who's got the best fucking cock baby, because I do."

He growls into your ear as he finally comes, spurting his hot cum into your pussy and filling you up. He moans when he pulls out, watching his cum drip from your abused hole.

Yunho smirks as he watches you close your eyes and pant out his name softly. "You did well, baby. You might wanna get up and hop into the shower though because you smell like sex," he says, kissing your back and giving your ass another spank, to which you whimper.

"I'm telling you they were doing it!" Hongjoong shrieks. "No, they would never do that. We're talking about Y/N and Yunho here," San says naively. "I'm telling you, it was too moaney for it to be a normal situation. They were fucking." "I'm sure they weren't," Yeosang says, right before your door opens, revealing you and your boyfriend holding hands. "Yeah we were," Yunho simply says before entering the car. The guys stand in front of your door in shock before going back into the car too.

Simply said, it was an awkward car ride.

#kpop #shinestarhwaa #ateez #yunho #jeong yunho #smut #ateez x reader

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aaagustd · 13 hours

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make it cute | jjk (m)

title: make it cute pairing: jeon jungkook x (f)reader genre/rating: smut, pwp, 18+ summary: if jungkook loans someone money, he expects to be paid with just that. but tonight, he just might make an exception. wc: 1.8k warnings: infidelity, swearing, mentions ransoms and everything that comes with that (threats, m*rder, etc), pictures??, consensual g*n play (more like oral but yeah), sloppy bl*wjob/deep throating, consent bc it's sexy, pet names, degradation, m*sturbation, facial c*m shot, dirty talk, slight power play dynamics, Dom/sub themes, obedience kink, hair pulling, face f*cking, that should be all release date: september 21st, 2024; 10:18pm est

note: reposting this baby. it’s from the old aaagustd account. i hope y’all enjoy the new version. divider credit.

"That’s it. Keep going until I tell you to stop."

Jungkook can feel the material of his pants stretching to accommodate the growing boner pressing against the fabric. One wrong jerk of his hips, and he fears the measly button and zipper securing his trousers will go flying across his lavishly decored master bedroom.

He’s done some sick shit in his life, but this. This was your idea.

If only he could hear how you begged for it.

"Damn, baby, You are dead-ass enjoying this, aren't you?"

You don’t have to respond, but you do. "M-Mhm," you exhale in a needy moan as your throat engulfs the barrel of his gun.

There’s no way you can deny what is visibly present in both your eyes.

The way your middle finger teases your soaked cunt. Your erected nipples leave two perfectly sculpted peaks that he can see through your sheer top.

He can't lie; he’s impressed and turned on by the sight.

However, the reason you’re on your knees on his bedroom floor isn’t because he had a taste for a bored housewife. Your darling husband owes him a lot of money, and he will pay it if he wants his little trophy home by dinner.

Otherwise, Jungkook will gladly keep you—if you can behave.

With an ass like yours, Jungkook wouldn't let you out of his sight. Your place would be right on his lap, no matter the time or the place.

You have to keep a tight leash on this kind of pussy. The man’s an idiot.

A woman as beautiful as you begging to be fucked? He’s not a nice guy, but how could he not show pity?

Jungkook can only stand there and imagine how your plump lips would look wrapped around his dick. The thought of it has him twitching inside his boxers.

As if you are reading his mind, your sticky digits abandon your wet panties and you place them on his designer-covered crotch. A sharp hiss pushes through his clenched teeth, biting back a slew of insults that could imply that he’s angry. Not in the slightest, he was just shaken by the sensitivity.

Staring into the desperation lingering deep in your irises, Jungkook knows what you’re asking for. Your mouth is filled to the brim, but you’re still begging for more.

Jungkook isn’t a gentleman, but he’s mindful of his strength when he grips your hair, snatching you away from his gun. He should have been cautious of your teeth, but you won’t need them anyway for what you’re about to do.

“Hey!” He watches your swollen lips part as you suddenly take in a large breath of air. Your lungs struggle to accommodate the pressure, leaving you coughing and choking for several seconds. The sound nearly drowns out his voice. “Look at me, dollface!”

Jungkook stares into your watery blown-out eyes, holding an intense gaze to make sure you understand him clearly. He realizes then that he has a problem on his hands.

Sexy and obedient. Fuck.

"Doll, you can get up if you want. I just want my money-"

"Fuck my throat."

Jungkook almost shudders when he hears your sweet voice. The lust hidden within that raspy tone is intoxicating.

"What?" he asks.

He heard you, though. Jungkook never misses a beat, but he’s just—stunned.

Clearing your throat, you repeat your request without an ounce of shame.

"My throat. Shove it down my throat, please."

Please.

You didn't have to add that last part. He was already preparing to take his dick out.

"Well, shit," he curses. “Are you sure?”

“Yes, I am.”

Jungkook quickly places his gun on the dresser behind him and unbuckles his belt. He steals glances at you waiting patiently on your knees—like a good little slut.

It’s goddamn shame how you have him fidgeting like a virgin.

Once his pants are loosened enough to slip a hand in and pull down his boxers, his cock springs out and introduces itself. Your reaction leaves a prideful smirk spreading across his face. Whatever you were expecting he knows that has been exceeded.

"Bit off more than you can chew, huh?"

You appear to be offended by his assumption. At least that’s what your expression reads. "Not at all," you reply, straightening your posture to align with his midsection. "May I?"

With Jungkook’s permission, you make contact with his length by grasping it gently in your smooth hand. Your fingers wrap around his girth as your eyes size him up.

Stroking him lazily in your warm palm, you admire his protruding veins that run along his length. You pause at the reddened tip, tapping the pool of precum that has developed at his slit. Your tongue licks your lips as if you’re sitting before a feast.

He understands it’s probably been forever since you’ve been in the presence of someone his size, but he’s impatient. You’ll have to do this another time.

"Don't fuck around, alright? I still got a bullet with your name on it, dollface."

You heed his warning and move closer, determining the best method of swallowing him whole.

"Sorry," you say in a whisper.

Those manners of yours will take you places; if you play your cards right.

"It’s no sweat, beautiful. Just keep going."

It's probably the first time he's said something as sincere; but honestly, he's just trying to get gobbled up before he cums all over his freshly waxed floors. His men are probably wondering what the hell is taking so long. For all they know, you’re using his bathroom to clean yourself up from the bumpy ride you had in the trunk of their car.

Without warning, Jungkook’s dick is sucked into your heavenly mouth. The warm and wetness invite him in without hesitation, comforting his throbbing length like a compress. He struggles to maintain his composure.

He isn't sure if he should allow you to take over because he cannot move. He couldn’t thrust if he wanted to. He’s mentally and physically stuck. The way you're slurping him up…he might not even be able to walk after this.

"Easy," Jungkook warns, which causes you to raise an eyebrow.

Finally, a bit of cockiness breaks through the surface.

Jungkook has no choice but to pull himself together and find his bearings because he’d die before boosting your ego.

"Fine," he grunts. "I can play rough too."

His hands snake their way to the back of your head, granting him full control. Your dark eyes never tear away from his face as he harshly uses his grip to push your head into his swift thrusts. You start to gag and choke, dropping saliva all over his cock and the floor. Something that would usually piss him off—but tonight, he can’t find an ounce of care.

It's not like he has to clean it up.

"Goddamn. Who's training this throat, hm?" He buries himself in your throat, making your forehead collide with his pelvic area. "Can’t be your hubby?"

When he hears a gurgled moan, he pulls away and allows you to speak. Through labored pants, you huff out your response. It’s one he's sure you've never shared with your husband.

"I'll suck that bastard dry every night before I let him cum inside me."

Jungkook nods. "Smart woman."

However, your business has nothing to do with him. Right now, he needs your undivided attention.

"Come here," he demands.

Jungkook hopes you were able to take in a breath before he lets go of his self-control.

You two had a deal, and he will uphold his part as you are yours. You’ve complied and given him some of the best head he’s ever received. Now, it’s time for the real show.

It’s been a month since he loaned your spouse some money; it’s time to pay up. To remind him of that, he’ll send your husband some face shots of his beautiful wife.

Jungkook will get his payment—one way, or another.

"Fuck!"

His body tenses now that he’s hitting the back of your throat. No matter how deep he goes, you never run out of space. The sweat rolling down his face is ignored because he’s too focused on how good your mouth feels around him.

Your warmth has him hunched over and leaning on his toes, his mouth stuck in an O-shape as he comes dangerously close to release. As he moves in and out of your crevice, he catches a glimpse of your juicy cunt being filled with your fingers, your body squirming and seeking the same relief he's chasing.

Both of your moans fill the room as you reach the peak of your highs. Your eyes roll back as your body becomes stiff. Jungkook knows exactly what's going on with you, and as you're riding out the waves of your orgasm, he waits for the perfect moment to pull out and paint you with his seed.

The time comes when you're no longer able to control your breathing, and you're desperately looking for a source of air. It's not a second too soon because Jungkook cannot bear another deep dive into your wet hole.

He slips out and gives his boner a couple of quick strokes before ropes of his cum paint your pretty face. The sounds you make indicate just how pleased you are with the results of your messy blowjob.

…And messy it is indeed.

It's everywhere, but he kept his promise and didn't get any in your hair.

"Ready?" Jungkook asks, still trying to catch his breath.

"Yeah."

Jungkook pulls his phone out of his back pocket and finds his camera. He positions it directly in front of your face. Your exhausted eyes and fucked out expression brings him some amusement. A contrast of how he felt before meeting you.

"Is my hair okay?" you ask him, and this time he actually has to chuckle.

Since you've made his night a little better, he does a quick job smoothing down flyaways and kinks.

Honestly, he didn't have to because you already look hot. Your hair all messy with his load dumped all over your face. All while adorned in an expensive diamond necklace your husband bought you—probably with his money.

Before he gets angry, he instructs you to look at the camera.

You pose provocatively as he takes a few pictures, giving your best doe-eyed pout. When he’s done, he finally guides you to the bathroom. He allows you to use his shower or whatever else you’d need to clean up.

Jungkook then lets you know that you may take as long as you need to freshen up while he sits on the bed to make this official.

He searches his contacts for the correct number. A mischievous grin slowly forms on his face as he taps the latest images in his camera roll, sending his debtor a little message to stir the pot.

03:14 am Sent: img.788, img.789....

03:14 am Sent: at the crib fucking your bitch. bring my bread and i might give her back.

He's lying. You’re staying right here.

Or…you can join your husband, in the cozy six-foot bed his men dug up for him in the woods.

#jungkook x reader #jungkook smut #bts x reader #bts smut #bts fanfic #bts imagines #jungkook imagine #jungkook fanfic #jeon jungkook smut #jungkook #bts #jeon jungkook imagine #aaagustd.fics

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myownwholewildworld · 23 hours

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acta, non verba - ii. there is no treachery in the art of war

chapter 1 | series masterlist | ao3 | main masterlist | chapter 3 (coming soon) pairing: conqueror!marcus acacius x ofc!reader. summary: you need to start moving the game along, but you cannot be too obvious. or... can you? a/n: hello there! c: here's the second chapter! there is quite a bit of character & world building in this one, as i felt it served the storyline, so i hope you guys like it! i wanted to thank you all for your nice, encouring words on the first chapter, it really motivated me to keep on writing! you guys are amazing 💖 as always, all interactions welcome, i do appreciate you liking, sharing and/or commenting! take care <3 warnings: 18+, mdni. references to marital abuse (physical and sexual) and child marriage (massive age gap, not in a cutesy way), in line with the time this story is set on. mentions of death/murder. mention of infertility. sexual tension galore (👀). a smidge of angst. w/c: ~8.6k. dividers by @saradika-graphics taglist at the end (let me know if you want to be added/removed please!)

“Honestly, I don’t think it’s a good idea, Callie”, Torcall sombrely warned you, his eyes locking on yours over the wooden spoon he tightly gripped close to his mouth.

“And what would you have me do then?”, you sneeringly replied back.

Your brother-in-law had been pestering you the whole morning about what your plan was to win your lands back. You knew the long game was your best bet — you didn’t have the numbers to face Rome on your own. Your athair had tried and failed in his attempt. Another defeat like the one your people suffered in Raedykes would destroy your clan. It would wipe you out off the map — everything your ancestors had worked for, gone under the crushing yoke of the Romans.

“I would not have you whoring yourself out to a fucking Roman, that’s for sure. Your athair would be so disappointed in you.” He snapped back at you, anger flowing in his words.

His reply stung badly, so much you unconsciously crossed your arms at chest level — an unvoluntary gesture to protect yourself from his accusation.

“That’s beyond the point”, you barked, the green of your irises burning like hellish fire. “And my father would be just fine with my decision. Need I remind you who he married me off to?”

Torcall’s knuckles went white as his fingers pressed around the spoon harshly. You cocked a brow, unwavering.

Ten years ago, your athair had reached an agreement with Iain of Am Baile Ùr(Insh), the lord of Badenoch whose state was a few miles south of your birthplace. For as long as Caledonia had formed, there had always been internal disputes about who was the rightful heir to the Overlord title.

The clan who held the stronghold at Inbhir Nis had historically always been considered the legitimate title’s holder. Your family had been the keepers of the land for as long as anyone could remember. But it didn’t stop those who were thirsty for power, so your father had to prove himself over and over again.

After several bloody skirmishes, Murdoch of Inbhir Nis had crowned himself, yet again, lord and master of Caledonia. Iain had been a strong contestant against your father and was only appeased when your athair offered you as a consolation prize to him, as if you were a lamb up for sale at the local market. A cheap one at that.

At the tender age of six and ten, you had been shipped off to an unknown land to be wife to a man you had never seen before. The next ten years of your life would be living hell — what you had to endure, you would not wish it upon your worst enemy.

The memories that would crawl back at night would still wake you up, a cold sweat trickling down your spine every time. Abuse in your arranged marriage was your bread and butter. Every time you returned home under the prying, controlling eyes of Iain or your family came to visit, you would lie to them about the new bruise on your cheek, the limp you had for a couple of weeks or the teeth marks on your neck. Murdoch was the last to realise, unable to come to terms with the destiny he had forced upon you. And by the time he did, there was not much he could do without infuriating Iain, without risking another war.

The peace of the Caledonians outweighed your suffering, after all. You were not worth such a bloodshed.

So you pushed through it all and survived — for family, for clan, for honour. Never resented your father either; he had a duty to protect his tribe, and so did you. For a decade you dragged yourself across ember and ash, until you finally caught a break six months ago.

Iain was found dead in the marital bed, his eyes wide open and his expression struck with horror, as if a wraith had taken his life. At the mature age of six and sixty, you had been his third wife, so when his only son and heir from his first marriage ascended, you were no longer needed. With no family of your own tying you to that ghostly place, you packed your things and swiftly left, the Will' O' the Wisps guiding you home.

“I didn’t mean it that way”, his answer burst out in a pitiful whisper. One of your eyebrows raised even further into your forehead. “I’m sorry.”

You sighed, unfolding your arms and looking at the cold broth in front of you. Grabbing the spoon again, you swirled it in the bowl aimlessly. You didn’t need your most trusted ally questioning your decisions, not when the whole clan depended on your actions. At least he was doing so in the intimacy of a crannog and not in front of your folk.

“I’m just trying my best, Torcall. I know I can win our freedom back, so I need you to have some faith in me. How I get to the endgame is up to me. The means justify the end.” Your words were imbued with unfaltering determination.

“I do trust you, Callie. With my life and the lives of my children”, he mumbled solemnly with a curtsy as his eyes drifted to the other end of the room.

Your niece and nephew, whom you loved dearly, were obliviously playing with some wooden swords their father had handcrafted a while back. They were six years of age, both born during the cold winter months. The twins had filled the blackhole in your heart, one that your marriage had not been able to lade.

“Ah, ye brute!” Your nephew, Daimh, let the sword slip from his fingers to hold his hand close to his chest. “You’ve hurt me, Iona!”

His little feet dabbed towards you, raising his injured hand in the air.

“Auntaidh (auntie), Iona has broken my fingers, look!”, he wept while you cradled his hand.

“Oh, come on here, mo laochain (my little hero). Let me see”, you said while rubbing his hand between yours and kissing it where it hurt.

“What a wimpy!”, Iona complained, running to her father. “I won, daddy!” Her proud, high-pitched voice squealed in excitement, and you couldn’t hide your smile.

“I’m going to tell màthair (mother)!”, Daimh blew raspberries at his sister, and she reciprocated from the other side of the table.

Your heart sunk to your stomach at the mention of Maisie, tears welling up at the corner of your eyes. Both you and Torcall had explained to them that their mother had been reunited with Dhuosnos, God of the Dead, but they were too little to fully understand what that entailed, what it truly meant.

“When is mama coming back from Tech Duinn (House of Dhuosnos), daddy? I miss her dearly”, Iona’s innocent words ripped at your heart.

Torcall and you exchanged mournful glances.

“Aye, me too”, exclaimed Daimh as he snuggled in your arms.

“So do we, sweet pea, so do we”, you mumbled as you kissed the crown of his blonde head.

Daimh stirred in your arms, his green eyes piercing yours. He looked so much like his mother that it was painful. Maisie and you had the same emerald irises, although she had been blonde. Daimh and Iona were living images of her.

“When can we go home? This place smells funny”, your nephew questioned while he sat on your lap.

You wished you could tell him. Your whole family had been living in the castle that now Marcus Acacius occupied. Torcall and his children could not risk staying there, not when the threat of death was hanging above them. If the Romans knew your sister had offspring, they would hunt them down.

Despite the adversity, you had been lucky in a sense. The highlanders had always been wary of strangers — outsiders brought tragedy with them, in the way of disease or war. The Caledonians had learnt to keep their distance, to be extremely cautious. So, when the General and his army arrived, no one spoke of your family, not even when questioned.

Your people, despite the differences that had them at each other’s throats some years back, were loyal to you. And it was their fealty what enabled your plan, what allowed you to pretend, to just be another servant girl.

So Torcall, his children and you had sought refuge in the skirts of town. Your uncail Aengus’ wife had welcomed you into her home.

The crannog was a circular hut with a straw roof, the walls made of mud, rocks, wood. There was only one big, round room, with an open hearth which kept the inside warm. The open shelving gathered some necessary clutter, but there were many things scattered around the place. There were only three beds lined up against the wall, which meant that you shared a bed with Iona and Torcall with his son. Your cousins had moved out to the small barn just a few feet away to make room for you.

It was cramped and very modest in comparison to the thick walls of your castle, but it was a roof over your heads. You were extremely grateful to her. Your heart still wept at the memory of telling her the demise of her husband.

“Soon we will, but in the meantime, we are keeping Bonnie and her sons company. And this place smells just fine. Are you sure it’s not you, you stinky little deamhan (demon)?”, you jested, pinching his nose and then tickling his ribs.

His laughter was a soothing balm on your aching, longing heart.

“Was everything as expected, Dominus?” His Roman servant asked, his head bowed to him.

Marcus patted the corners of his mouth with the rag on his lap and then nodded to Atticus. The food was somewhat decent, a venison stew with some root vegetables he could not identify. The bread, unsurprisingly, was a bit stale, so he had left it untouched.

The great hall was lugubrious, silence filling up the atmosphere. There were two other maids in the room, cowering in a corner with averted eyes. They only spoke a barbarian language he had no wish to learn. Communication with the natives was extremely difficult, as they seemed to be uneducated.

But there was one lass who knew how to speak Latin — you, Callie.

He wondered where you had gone. Marcus had not seen you since your encounter in his new-found bedchamber. It had been three days since then and with each passing one, he found himself searching the room for you. There was something about you that had reeled him in but was unsure of what it was. Maybe it was the eerie, magical aura that surrounded your fiery hair — or maybe it was the way you carried yourself, the way you had briefly but decisively held his gaze. The way you quickly retreated — unwillingly.

Marcus imperceptibly shook his head and waved his hand at Atticus, motioning for him to pour another cup of the bitter wine.

“Yes”, he simply replied, bringing the wooden chalice to his lips.

Atticus signalled the young women to come forward and they quickly cleared the table of dishes and cutlery. When he was alone with his servant, away from enemies’ ears, he signalled at Atticus, who quickly stepped forward.

“Fetch my commanders and bring them here. There are matters I need to discuss with them”, Marcus demanded of him.

His attendant curtsied and vanished from the great hall, leaving him alone.

Marcus was taking in every detail of the room, of the tapestries and their stories, when a scattering sound distracted him. He thought to hear a commotion, then a blasphemy. Curious, he stood up, stepped off the dais and sauntered towards the double doors. The door was slightly ajar, so he only had to push it for it to swing open.

There was nothing in the corridor except for a distinct scent. Rosemary and thyme with a hint of something unrecognisable, he identified. A smell that had loitered in his bedchamber once you left. Wrinkling his aquiline nose, he caught something in the corner of his eye. He turned to see how a shadow dissipated at the end of the corridor.

Furrowing his brows and in long strides, Marcus covered the distance, tracking the distinct aroma — like a lost man after the beckoning of a nymph, he followed. As he was about to turn the corner, he almost collided with Maximus, Valerius and Cassius.

“My lord,” Cassius was the first to talk, “we were on our way to you. You wished to see us?”

Marcus tried to conceal his confusion at the sight of the three men. With his head slightly tilted, he asked, “Did you encounter anyone on your way to me, Commander?”

Cassius slowly shook his head no, baffled by the question. “No, Dominus, no one. Were you expecting someone else?”

The General hmphed, taciturn. He needed to be cautious — if the tapestries were right, ungodly, mythical creatures lingered between the walls of the castle. Evil ones at that.

“Worry not”, Marcus rapidly dismissed. “Follow me, gentlemen.”

The four men sat at the rectangular table on the dais, Marcus’ fingers drumming on the wood as Maximus flattened a piece of parchment before him.

“These are some names that have been thrown around in the last few days, people who may act on their rebellious comments. Our spies have been trying their best to mix in with the townies, but they are tough nuts to crack. They are wary even of the people who speak their own language”, Maximus’ index finger slid down the list as he talked.

Marcus’ hand darted forward and pinched one corner of the parchment, pulling it towards him. His eyes scanned the unfamiliar names.

The barbarians did not use surnames, which spoke to their lack of sophistication. Instead, they used patronyms and the land where they were born, so the list made it difficult to identify individuals who might belong to the same family. Knowing what families were a menace would be a great advantage, one they did not have.

“There seems to be a recurrent name here”, Marcus paused, his fingertip pointing to the words scribbled in lead ink. “Seumas and Anndra of Dail an Eich (Dalneigh), sons of Aengus. Who is this Aengus?”, he questioned, looking up to the frowning faces.

“We are not sure, Dominus. As I said, the villagers are not talking much”, Cassius replied, his fingers intertwined, resting atop of the wooden table.

“Well, find out then. I don’t care how you get the information. Just get it”, Marcus’ back reclined against the chair he was sat on. He felt like they were wasting his time with trivial details. He needed more than that.

“You didn’t get Murdoch’s wife to talk, even when she was hanged half dead in a cage off the main tower, after being brutally tortured and whatever else you inflicted upon her, and you expect us to get names just like that?”, Valerius’ insolence spoke for him.

Marcus’ eyes lazily locked on his commander’s. He should have his ill-mannered tongue cut out for such disdainful arrogance. Valerius’ Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat as he forcefully swallowed, his eyes slightly widened, realising his impertinence.

Whispers flew around the town; his name being cursed from mouth to mouth. Marcus was not too worried about whatever rumours they could spread about him. They probably would be true — he was no saint.

But Marcus had not been the one who had ordered such distasteful death upon Mòrag, wife of Murdoch. Agricola did, with no respect for his name when he dropped it mid-sentence. Marcus did not even lay an eye on her, even less a hand.

Let them all think what they might. Marcus was used to being the scapegoat of the governor — when something went wrong, Agricola would blame him. And when something went right, he would just take credit for himself, the evil, power-thirsty rat.

He looked at Valerius dead in his eyes, one cocked brow showing his mild incredulity.

“Do you have something to say, Valerius? I hear a certain condemning tone in your words?”, his voice was flat, devoid of emotion, but the reality was there was a raging fire within him he could not make manifest.

“Absolutely not, my lord”, the man bowed his head to him, his knuckles white.

“Then be gone. All of you. Find those two men or I will have you hanged too.”

The resolution in his tone scared the seasoned warriors, who quickly said their goodbyes and hurriedly left the premises.

Marcus’ elbows sunk in the wooden table, his fingers pinching the bridge of his nose. He was angry, but amongst all, he was tired — tired of masking, of cleaning up after Agricola’s hideous actions, of power plays, of trickery, betrayal and deception. He was surrounded by it all.

At eight and forty, he was tired of war and conquest. He had seen it all, lived it all. If retirement would be an option, he would gladly take it. But he knew — he would wield a sword till the day he died in a godforsaken battlefield, till Pluto welcomed him with open arms. Rome would not have him any other way.

Marcus Acacius was truly exhausted.

So it was him who had your beautiful màthair tortured and hanged in a cage until she greeted death. Your blood boiled as your breath quickened. The rage flickered inside you like wild flames burning down an entire civilisation.

When the rangers announced your arrival to a few selected loyal men who had stayed behind, they got out at night to cut the ropes holding the cage your mother had been thrown in. They did not want you to see such act of savagery.

Your kinsmen had really tried to conceal how badly damaged your mother’s body was. Despite the heartache, you had been grateful that they had gone to the effort of making her somewhat presentable. But one look at her mangled body had been enough to understand what type of wickedness you were up against.

In the dead of night, you had buried Mòrag, the woman who so selflessly gave you life, in the outskirts of town. Just like her other children and husband, she would not rest under the family’s chambered cairns. Your family had been wiped out of history as if they were mere droplets in a vast ocean of human tragedy.

With one ear flat against the wooden door to the great hall, you unknowingly squinted your eyes, trying to listen to the rest of the conversation. If someone caught you eavesdropping, you would have a lot of explaining to do. But so far your spying was being productive — you would need to warn your cousins when you got home that night.

The faint sound of approaching footsteps made your heart jolt in your chest.

“Cac (shite)!”, you swore, frantically looking for a place to stow yourself away.

Picking up your skirt so you would not trip, you hid in a nearby garderobe. The cupboard smelt sweet and musty — barrels of wine decorated the whole height of the stone walls. The scent was so intense, you felt it soaking through your skin, appeasing the craze that had a tight grip on your mind. The darkness that surrounded you only accentuated your sense of smell. Could you get inebriated just with the sugary aroma of grape juice?

When the booted treads slowly faded away, you quietly pushed the door open, emerging back into the cold corridor — the contrasting temperature between the garderobe and the hallway gave you goosebumps. Palm flat against the wood and the other hand tightly gripping the iron pull handle, you gently shoved the door back into its frame, hoping to make no noise.

“What are you doing?”, a deep, masculine voice startled you, making you jump on the spot.

A set of warm, firm arms wrapped around you as you stumbled with your feet. They enveloped you so steadfastly, your body involuntarily relaxed against the person behind you. Leaning back, your back met the cold touch of metal.

Swallowing a profanity that would bring a repenting clergyman down to his knees, you turned around, in the arms that held you tight, to face the embodiment of hate. Your hate.

Marcus Acacius was standing, all righteous and proud, intimately close to you. He was wearing an impeccable white armour with golden details. Two flaxen griffins adorned the center of the plackart, their claws wrapping around a floral design. Linen straps, snug around his hips, fell from his waist, covering the fauld and the tasset underneath.

Marcus’ body was a fountain of warmth, even with all the layers enfolding his frame. His arms, although tense around you, did not feel suffocating — in fact, they were almost coddling you into a state of ataraxia as your brain quietened. His hug exuded a sense of security you had not felt in years — as if nothing nor no one could ever harm you as long as you stayed in Marcus’ embrace.

You traced the topography of his plackart with your fingers, your palms resting against the alloy, as your eyes peeked up —he was considerably taller than you— and were met with the fervour of two brown irises. Their gravity pulled you in for an eternal second. With your face near his, you picked up on the tired bearing on his face, the wrinkles around his eyes, the hard press of his lips. A kempt but patchy beard coated his jawline, and salt and peppered hair curled at the nape of his thick, muscular neck — a stray silver lock caressing his forehead, asking to be tucked away.

Your fingertips suddenly itched with longing, your eyes slightly widened, and your mouth partially parted. And then you came back to reality with the full force of your conscience yapping at you. What the hell? You had to control the contortion of your face so your disappointment would not be evident. It’s because I want to slap him so bad, was your afterthought.

Something changed in his expression — Marcus suddenly let you go, leaving you cold again. As if it was a rehearsed move, you both took a step back, breaking the electric contact that snapped between your bodies.

You now realised his clean image was a shocking contrast to how you first met him. Covered in mud, blood and sweat, his untamed expression as he dispatched your father still haunted you at night. And that was how you had to remember him. Sinking his gladius in your father’s belly. And nothing else.

“Well?”, the General insisted after clearing his throat, his eyebrows knitting together as he folded his arms.

You rapidly lowered your gaze when you realised you had been looking at him too intently, too directly. A maid would have fainted at the audacity you had just shown him. But you were no maid — albeit he was not privy of such detail for obvious reasons.

You hoped he didn’t notice, although you could feel his eyes studying you eagerly.

“I— I was looking for wine, Dominus.” You faked the stammering in an attempt to convey innocence. “Cormag, the cook, wants a very specific wine to accompany your supper, Dux Meus (My General/Leader). I was making sure we had it.”

“And what wine is that, if I dare ask?”, he pressed with a steely voice.

Thalla gu taigh na galla (go to hell), you thought, browsing your brain for a quick reply.

“It’s a fine wine imported from Carmo, my lord.” Your father had been a wine enthusiast, so you knew some places he had his wine shipped from. Not that it really meant anything to you, anyway.

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw his arms falling to his sides, his threatening posture softening.

“Carmo? In the Baetic region of Hispania?”, Marcus’ incredulous voice made you glance up at him through your long eyelashes.

You nodded, your fingers laced at your front as you bowed your head again, showing a deference you didn’t really feel towards him. And you prayed there was at least a few drops left of said wine in one of the barrels, or you would be in trouble come dinner.

“That’s one of my favourites”, he let slip and you instantly knew he didn’t mean to say it out loud.

Feigning bravery, you fanned your eyelashes back at him, a half-smile softening your lips. The General almost looked mortified at the fact of letting a stranger know about his likes. You could see it in his eyes — the brief moment of asking himself, “What have I just said?” Although he seemed all stoic and unattainable, he was just a man. Just like any other.

“Is that so?” You did not wait for a reply you knew would never come. “I’ll try and remember that, Dominus, to make sure we never run out.”

He was a hard man to read, you would give him that. His expression didn’t flinch, as if your words had gone over his head. The only sign he had actually listened was a subtle tic on his jaw.

You just needed to drop some hints here and there, let him brew. If you were too obvious with your intentions, Marcus would become suspicious. You knew nothing about the man except he was a cold-blooded murderer, but perceived he was observant. Probably too observant.

“If you’ll excuse me, my lord, I wish to retire now so I can attend to my tasks.” Asking for permission was not something that came naturally to you, but it was a trained response you had learnt from your late husband.

“Take your leave then”, he granted, his hands hiding on his back.

You curtsied. “Thank you, Dux Meus.”

Marcus turned on his heels in a swift whoosh, the sword swaying in front of him, his fingers gripping the handle tight. He intuited his opponent’s next move before it happened, so he bent his knees and ducked his head right under the swing of Maximus’ gladius. With a wild, toothy smile, Marcus pulled back, weighing the blade on his left hand.

“So predictable”, he teased the commander, who was an old friend of his.

If one could have friends in the midst of war, that was. Their friendship easily transformed depending on the circumstances — in war matters, Maximus knew to respect Marcus above everything else. Outside of that, they just were two friends with a long history behind them.

“I’m being gentle, lord General. We have spectators, I don’t want to embarrass you. I know your ego is as fragile as a rose’s petal”, Maximus chaffed, a grin taking over his mouth as they circled each other like two lions on the gladiator’s pit.

Marcus’ tunnel vision had him so tuned in on his friend’s advances, he had not realised that a small group of people had gathered around the makeshift arena. Feeling a sudden heaviness weighing him down, Marcus combed the gathered faces in one sweep.

Until his eyes locked in on yours. He saw a glimpse of wonder metamorphosing into surprise in your emerald greens — then you quickly withdrew your eyes from his at the realisation of getting caught staring.

There was something about you that drew him in — something mysterious, uncanny, but also strangely enticing. Exciting. Your eyes spoke of mischief, of adventure, of the unknown. Of something eerie, almost witchy. The flickering, iridescent fire within them had him under a spell for a brief moment.

Marcus vividly remembered holding you against his chest, your soft curves perfectly moulding to his hard edges. Even through the armour, he had felt the heat your body irradiated, the way it seeped through to envelop him, soothe him. For a moment, having you between his arms felt just right. And that thought had unsettled him gravely, letting go of you as such wild, unnerving concept sank in — his mind point-blank rejecting the notion.

Despite his inner refusal, how you looked back at him would plague him. For days and nights on end.

Out of the corner of his eye, Marcus watched as Maximus inched forward, the sword aiming at his open flank. Just in the nick of time, the General’s steel deflected the attack.

“Getting distracted? That’s unusual of you, Marcus”, the commander jeered at him, closing in.

Marcus scoffed at his words, bluffing. But the reality was that Maximus had hit the nail in the head. Not that he was going to acknowledge it in public anyway. If he was to successfully bring Maximus down, he needed to focus on the task at hand and not think about a green-eyed nymph.

Studying his adversary’s body language, his feet dragged on the sand. Maximus was on edge, tense, too focused on his sword, so Marcus wagered a distraction would tip the scales in his favour. Maintaining eye contact, he slowly knelt, the fingers of his non-occupied right hand extended, palm down. Maximus’ brows wrinkled when he saw Marcus getting a fistful of sand and the General knew he had the diversion he was looking for.

With Maximus focused on his right hand, too worried with a cloud of sand that would get in his eyes, Marcus took the chance, quickly stood up and swung his heavy sword against his rival’s left loin. Maximus did not have time to prepare for the impact and so dropped to the ground.

Marcus smiled with sufficiency, straightening out his aching back, and offered a hand to his old friend.

With a grunt, Maximus accepted his gesture and got up, palming Marcus’ back soundly.

“You treacherous man, making me believe you were going to blind me”, he quipped as they both started to walk out of the circle people had formed around them.

“There is no treachery in the art of war”, Marcus replied, patting his friend’s back in playful jest.

A loud snort made Marcus look around him. He had no time to fully study your face, but he could swear you had made that disapproving noise before turning on your heels and trotting off.

Confusion and a smidge of curiosity settled in him — what had he done to gain your dissent when a minute ago awe darkened your eyes? The sudden change in your attitude left a lingering question in the back of his head as he and Maximus ushered towards the barracks in the northwest corner of the bailey.

“But you shouldn’t be serving, mo bhean-uasal (my lady)”, whispered the young lass, her hands twisting in her lap with nervousness.

“Shush, Brighid, lower your tone.” Anxiously you checked out your surroundings, ensuring you were alone. You were relieved to know you were. “You cannae refer to me like that. I’m just Callie now, remember?”

Upon your arrival to Inbhir Nis, Torcall and your father’s retinue —now yours, you guessed— had made everyone aware that the Romans thought you dead and hence, concealing your identity was of utmost importance. A slip of a tongue and you would be hanging in a cage too. Every passing day you feared someone might forget and show you deference publicly — but you had to trust that no one would run off at the mouth and rat you out.

“Duilich (sorry), mo bh— Callie. I—I promise I didn’t mean to”, she profusely apologised, her big wide eyes begging for your pardon. The wee lass could not stop fidgeting.

“I know, I know”, you tried to calm her down, placing your hand on her forearm. “But please, I need to take your place tonight.”

“Cormag will fire me for not turning up. I cannae afford that, my family depends on me.” Her pleading plucked some fast beats out of your heart.

“Don’t fret about it, lass. I’ll speak to that old crank of a man, he owes me. You’ll get paid, awright? He’ll be fine with it, I promise.” You gently squeezed her forearm, so your words would sink in.

Her eyes broadened in understanding. Before the girl could think about her actions, she jolted forward, her arms wrapping around your shoulders. You could only smile at her relief and let out a soft cackle when Brighid lumbered back, mortified.

“I’m so sorry, do Ghras (Your Grace).” Her excitement was so palpable the poor girl didn’t notice the second blunder.

“BRIGHID!”, a raspy threat left your tongue as you jerked her closer to you by the elbow. “For the love of Morrìgan, do watch your mouth!”

The young servant covered her mouth with both hands, her eyes speaking of self-reproach as it dawned on her. “I’ll have it sewn”, she muttered with great remorse.

The guilt splayed across her heart-shaped face brought a smirk to your lips. “Off you go now, before your runny tongue gets me into trouble.”

Brighid scurried away towards the barbican, and you hurried along to the kitchens. You followed the tangled web of corridors and passages thoughtlessly — you had played hide and seek countless times with your siblings between the stone walls, there was no nook nor cranny you were not familiar with.

The air got denser as you approached, the thick smoke of the open hearth filling your lungs. Repressing a cough, you entered the galley as good ol’ Cormag was shouting orders at the helping lads. The head cook had an aging face, creases around his grey eyes and bulbous nose, and a thick bush of white hair — hair strands shooting in every direction, almost comically. He was short and round around the belly, living proof of his good, delicious cooking.

“Keep fanning the fire, ye lazy ass! Don’t you see it’s going to die out? Faster, stronger! Aren’t you supposed to be young and full of life?!”, Cormag had wrapped his thick fingers around the brittle wrists of the lad, forcing his feeble arms up and down, fingers tight around a thin plank of wood. “Tiugainn (come on), with more enthusiasm, ye numpty!”

“Do you really think that’s how you motivate the young lads to do a good job, Cormag?” You questioned his teaching approach, with folded arms and a cocked brow.

An oath escaped his mouth as the cook turned around, his face downcast at your reprimand. “Callie!”

Thank the gods someone remembered how to approach you now. It came easier to Cormag though, considering that he was almost like family to you. The old man had seen you grow, having served your father since before you were even born. He was there, on the background, to wave you goodbye every time you had to return to Am Baile Ùr. And each time you came back, he had a full plate of haggis with a side of neeps and tatties waiting for you.

“No wonder your apprentices quit so fast if you treat them like that, Cormag. Have you no manners?” You kidded — the man had the filthiest mouth of the shire.

“I was raised by an ogre, young lady, of course I don’t”, he jokingly replied, cleaning his dirty hands on the apron tied around his round belly.

“Aye, and Nessie was your pet. I’ve heard that story before awright. I am still to see proof of such claims though.” Unfolding your arms you approached him, immediately going in for a bear hug.

Cormag palmed your back enthusiastically and you circled his stout frame, sinking in the comfort of his presence. In the blink of an eye, you were a five-year-old crybaby being consoled by a younger Cormag because there were no more mutton pies left that you could shove down your tiny mouth.

“I heard you were back, fear beag (little one). Wondered when you’d come visit this old git.” With a last squeeze, he took a step back, his hands placed on your shoulders. “Know you’ve probably heard this a thousand times now, but I’m truly sorry for your loss.”

His whisper was loaded with a heavy affection that shot your heart down to your stomach. Pressing your lips to stop your face from contorting at the memory of being alone in this world, you nodded, almost frantically, and sniffed. His eyes were a reflection of yours — the friendship between your athair and Cormag had been a staple in your life for as long as you could remember.

“But let’s not get all teary now!”, his demeanour changed as he rubbed your shoulders before taking a step back. “Got something for you.”

He turned around to rummage through a rattan basket on one of the counters. Cormag exclaimed an enthusiastic “Ha!” when he got his hands on what he was looking for. Then he presented his discovery to you with a flourish that made you crow.

When you saw the peachy plum on the palm of his hand, you almost squealed. “Plums!” You quickly snatched it, afraid he would take it away.

“I arranged for these to be brought from Fachabair (Fochabers). The cook who serves the clan chief there is an old friend of mine.”

“But Cormag, plums are not in season yet!” You marvelled at the sight, munching on the delicious fruit eagerly. Your eyes almost rolled to the back of your head.

“I know.” He winked at you mysteriously, but you didn’t press the matter if it meant you could get your hands on some more plums.

“I did come to you with a favour to ask”, you batted your eyelashes at him, anticipating his disapproval.

He looked at you, inquisitorial — it was his turn to fold arms at the chest. Cormag snapped his tongue as if to say, “do go on”.

“I already convinced Brighid so you cannae be mad at her. In fact, I promised her you wouldn’t.” You grinned at him, his face already puckering with exasperation. “I’m taking her place tonight as a serving maid.”

“Have you lost your damn mind, lass? Nay, I’m not having it”, he quickly dismissed you, grunting.

“I’m not asking for permission. I need to be there, I—” Just in time, you remembered that the two lads were still running around the fireplace, trying to keep the flames alive. “I’ll fill you in later, but I have to be there, there’s no discussion about it.”

“What? Serving that Roman scoundrel? There’s more royal blood in you than there is in him.” He was more offended than you were.

You laughed, patting his forearm. The old man already hated the Romans more than you did, and that was difficult to accomplish.

“Aye, and that’s not the worst bit, Cormag”, you teased him, because you knew he would lose his mind with rage.

“Enlighten me”, he said between gritted teeth.

“We are serving the Corma wine tonight with supper”, you pursed your lips, watching his reaction.

His round face turned all shades of red, and his nostrils flared. If it was physically possible, his ears would be steaming too, like a ceramic pot with boiling water over the open fire.

“NAY, OVER MY DEAD FUCKING BODY!”, he exploded, shaking his arms over his head in disbelief, and you burst into laughter. Cormag was too expressive. “Ah, no, NO. We are not wasting such finery on that murderous cunt!”

You blinked rapidly at him to appease his fury, but his rage just gleamed brighter.

“Well… I kinda told him we would. You winnae make me look like a liar, right, Cormag?”, you muttered, as if you were a child who had committed the grave felony of stealing a sweet off the counter.

“You did WHAT?!”, he snorted angrily.

“Tìoraidh (bye)!”, you effusively waved him goodbye as you bit into the plum, sprinting off and ducking when you heard the wooden spoon flying by your ear.

“Trobhad (come here)!”, but you had already turned the corner into the hallway.

Why he was so taut, he did not fully understand. Marcus’ body was in high alert, and he had his suspicions about the cause.

You were just a woman like any other. Sure, your green eyes flickered like hellfire, your red hair was so bright it looked like you were up in flames, your upturned nose covered in freckles twitched adorably, and the skin on your hands was unusually soft — but that was it, really.

So you were nothing out of the ordinary, he kept telling himself. But it was hard to keep to that line of thought when your breast would brush against his shoulder every time you approached to clear the table from empty plates, when your velvety fingers would briefly caress the back of his hand while reaching for his cutlery, or when you would talk too close to his ear, a tingling sensation on the back of his neck almost making him shiver uncomfortably.

Marcus did not know if you were doing it on purpose or not — your face had an innocent look to it that was hard to read for him. The most prudent thing would be to ignore it all — ignore you. Surely you were only being suggestive in his imagination. And he still had the feeling something had upset you that afternoon when you stormed off after his training session.

“How’s the wine, Dux Meus?”, your sweet voice trickled from your plush lips like honey.

The way you kept referring to him as Dux Meus unsettled him. The first time you had said it during your encounter in the corridor, it caused certain havoc in his mind — and body.

Although it was appropriate for his title, no one really referred to him like that. My leader, my general, my god. It was the last connotation what made him feel… uneasy, for lack of a better word. It just sounded too intimate, the way it would pour from your oval-shaped mouth.

Marcus blamed it on Latin not being your first language. If you knew how seductively it rolled from your lips, he was sure you would stop addressing him like that straight away. Which meant he should correct you, tell you to just stick to Dominus.

But for whatever inexplicable reason, he did not.

“It’s as tasty and earthy as I remember it.” He replied, his fingers wrapping around the chalice with more strength than what was necessary.

You smiled at him, one of your hands gently placed on his right shoulder giving him a subtle squeeze.

“I’m glad to hear it, my lord”, you mumbled, Marcus’ eyes following the movement of your hand when you broke contact.

You inched forward over his shoulder to grab the glass jug and refill his cup, gifting him with the sight of your generous cleavage — your breasts almost spilling over the neckline of the dark blue, linen dress that so tightly wrapped around your hourglass figure.

Marcus had to swallow hard, tension suddenly building up on his groin. Was he getting hard just by the mere touch of a woman? He sucked in his breath while forcing himself to look forward, not down.

He just nodded in reply, unable to find his voice. If he had talked, he would have just groaned in frustration. Marcus had to readjust his posture as he saw you walking away, your waist evocatively swaying sideways with every step you took.

“I’m sure the wine is not the only tasty thing around here.”

Maximus’ whispered jest forced Marcus to look in his direction, turning to his left. They, along with the other commanders and a few other people of importance, were sat on the table on the dais, facing the crowd. Other tables were scattered around the great hall, where some legionnaires were enjoying a meal and a drink, sharing a joke and bursting in laughter.

“I don’t follow”, he grunted, feigning ignorance, before taking a sip.

“Oh, you do follow. At least your eyes do.” Maximus mocked him while Marcus just sneered at him, eyes squinting. “No one would blame you though. We are far away in an unknown land, and we all have needs to satisfy. I myself am considering getting laid tonight.”

“I did not doubt you would.” Men like Maximus had no consideration for their wives.

Neither does Livia, the intrusive thought wiggled its way through his mind. Despite the lack of passion in bed with his spouse, Marcus had been a faithful husband. While others looked for warmth in the folds of a pleasure woman after a battle, the General would tend to his wounds and rest, focusing on what next skirmish lied ahead.

And while he had been loyal although there was never love between them, Livia had been fucking the “love of her life”, as she had referred to the man stuffing her cunt full during his long absences. Marcus was yet to know his name. What he would do with that information, he did not know.

Thinking of his perfidious wife had an extinguishing effect on him. The strain against his subligaculum (underwear) had softened.

“You’re too tense, Marcus. You need to relax, have some fun. I bet you two denarii that she will fuck the stress out of you expertly, I can tell.” Maximus pressed maliciously, conscious of how uncomfortable the conversation would make Marcus feel.

“Just shut up, will you?”, Marcus snapped back, tired of his friend’s quips, and downing the drink in his cup.

Maximus laughed it off and turned to talk to Cassius when you sauntered towards the table again, stopping right behind him.

“More wine, Dux Meus?”, you asked, infusing your honeyed voice with a sweet touch of flirtation.

You bent over his shoulder again, hand lazily looking for the wine jug in front of him. His hazel eyes fell on your bosom again and your nipples involuntarily hardened at the desire you saw in him — you were sure he noticed them peeking through the thin fabric.

In your attempts to arouse him, your body was betraying you, getting warm in all the wrong places. As much as you wanted to be immune to your own provocative games, you were not. But it wasn’t him who made you wet with lust, you told yourself. It was your own actions, nothing else. The long game.

But Marcus quickly tamed his expression, grinding his jaw and looking away.

“No, I’m okay”, he rejected your offer, hovering his hand over the chalice so you would not pour more.

You forced your lips into a flat line. You needed the man to let go of his defences. Having him drunk would help with that. But not tonight, apparently.

You nodded.

“Of course, Dominus.” You placed the jug back down on the table, your left breast brushing his right shoulder again.

You bit down your bottom lip, your free fingers curling on the back of his chair. It’s just the game, you thought to yourself again, your core slick and hot.

Slowly you retreated to the kitchens, fully aware of Marcus’ eyes feasting on your body. You smiled to yourself — he might be a taut General, but he was just a man.

A deceitful man at that, who thought there was no treachery in the art of war. Was that how he defeated your father? With deception? You had been too far to see and hear how the fight between your father and Marcus had unfolded, but having been witness to how the General distracted his opponent that afternoon, you wondered if he had followed similar tactics with Murdoch. If your father’s demise was just a byproduct of Marcus’ boldness.

The memory of Marcus being your father’s executioner put out the liquid fire in your crotch. And rightly so.

It wasn’t long before the Romans started to vanish from the great hall, retreating to the barracks or to town, maybe looking for the comfort only a woman could offer.

When you walked back out to clear the last plates, you saw the General leaving the room. Alone. Where he intended to go you did not know, but you had to make sure he was not considering joining the men in town — if he was to choose a woman to enliven his bed, he should pick you.

“Isla, I’ll be back in a minute.” The lass gave you a puzzled look as the bits you had gathered previously clattered against the wooden table when you let go of them.

You hurried forward to meet him as he swung the double doors open, the cold breeze of the corridor filtering into the great hall.

“Dux Meus, wait please”, you interjected in the hopes he would stop walking.

Indeed, he did. His whole body stiffened, his fingers curling into fists at his sides. You were not sure what to make of that reaction — exasperation or frustration. You hoped for the second, especially the good kind of frustration.

As soon as you reached him, you placed a daring hand on his forearm — an unusual surge of energy sparked at the contact between your skins, giving you goosebumps. You quickly retrieved your hand with certain surprise, the tingling sensation evaporating right after.

“I trust everything was good?”, you queried, tilting your head to one side.

“Yes. Now I’ll retire to my bedchambers. Bonum noctis (good night)”, his words dragged for a second, “Callie.”

There it was again, your name falling from his lips as if it belonged to him. It angered and pleased you equally. If he pronounced it like that on purpose you did not know, but it surely felt like it.

Before you could come up with an answer, he trudged to his right and you took a step forward.

“That is not the way to the main bedchamber, my lord. You should follow this other corridor instead”, you pointed to the left.

He paused and turned around to face you. A lingering question danced in his pupils, but whatever it was, he did not say out loud. Instead, he nodded.

“I am aware. However, I have taken a different bedroom.” He did not give you an explanation, but you could have a good guess. Your father always complained his bed was like a blanket of spikey rocks. “I am now lodged in the second tower, the room in the top floor.”

You tamed your face into nothingness, but internally you flinched at his reply. He was sleeping in your room, in your bed. The thought of him naked with your bedlinen draped around his waist and thick legs made you gush. Fuck.

This was unknown territory to you — although you had been married for ten years, you had not known pleasure in the bedchamber. Iain just chased his own release, using you in disgusting ways, proving you that you were the problem, not him — that your womb was barren. You had been told by your friends that fucking was enjoyable for both parties, but you were yet to discover that. Maybe the dampness your legs harboured was a start?

“I see”, you curtsied, fingers laced on your back, looking up at him through your long eyelashes.

“How come you speak Latin?” His question blurted out, catching you completely off guard.

Marcus had a nick for inconvenience, forcing you to come up with lies on the spot. Luckily you were astute and creative.

“My late father was a scrivener to Murdoch. He taught me how to speak Latin, as it was his favourite language.”

“He passed?” You simply nodded. “I trust you still have family around though?”

You shook your head no. You killed them all, ye cunt. But you could not express your hatred out loud. Although when the time came, you would. Aye, you definitely would.

“I’m sorry to hear that.” For a second you believed him, his tone almost sorrowful.

“It was a long time ago.” You lied through your teeth, shrugging. “I’ll leave you to your rest now. Oidhche mhath (good night), Marcus.”

You heard a loud sigh being drawn into his lungs, possibly because of your cheekiness — calling him by his first name was a very bold move on your part. Maybe too bold.

Before he could reprimand you for your audacity, you scuttled back into the great hall, a sufficient grin tugging at your lips.

@orcasoul @immyowndefender @sjc7542 @fairiebabey

@thepalaceofmelanie @harriedandharassed @whoaitspascal87

@verybigvag @jessthebaker @ivoryandflame @missadangel @pepperstories

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2802sen · 1 day

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Arei's case, problems with three main suspects

CH2 EP14 DRDT SPOILERS, obviously

This post is basically just my thoughts about things that I find weird. I'm not a theorist, I don't analyse things very hard and I can miss out important things, so if I do miss something serious here please tell me.

Let's start with the reasons why I think the killer is not Eden or Ace.

For Ace, the biggest reason is- how could he know about Eden and Arei's conversation? Of course, we know he can be quiet and all, but in that situation he just physically couldn't be not noticed by Arei (when she entered the room) or Arturo, when he left. It's also the reason why anyone besides Eden and Arturo being the killer doesn't make any sense, but I'll return to this later. I also doubt that he was the one who took the tape, just because... Well he was kinda trying not to die in the moment, plus he was holding his neck with the hand that was closer to the tape, no? I'm not even talking about how he was unconscious and filled with bloodlust. Ace also doesn't really have a place (like pockets) where he could keep it. But it would be weird even if Eden took the tape in the moment when Ace woke up, simply because Teruko would notice it. So... What exactly happened? I assume that when Ace woke up he accidentally kicked the tape, so neither him or Eden took it instead it just got tossed aside and that's the reason we don't see it after "I'm not fucking dead" scene. It's still there, just not somewhere we can see. Although I do think that someone took it later.

Next, Eden. I do not believe she is the culprit not because of the evidence, but because killing her right now would be very weird from the narrative standpoint. Not just because of that one Terueden scene, no, even without it I think it's illogical. Do you really think she would die after the fork CG? Do you really think they're just gonna... Leave us with this? It's also about the cast balance- it's already told that everyone here hates each other, but Eden is the only one who could actually fix this (yeah, Whit could try but.. his jokes are NOT helping, I'm sorry). And now when David is trying to make her the primary suspect in Teruko's eyes, when Teruko is genuinely trying to trust her, killing her would be very weird.

Now, who is the third, and with all I wrote above, the most suspicious person? Of course, it's Hu. The only thing I find weird with her being the culprit is that I don't see why Nico would lie when they tell us about how they tried to kill Ace (if someone has thoughts about this, please explain). Although I also don't believe that they were telling the truth. Why?

But in episode 6-

Because of this. According to their words, Teruko and Eden noticed them when they were only thinking about cutting Ace's neck with the wire, and in the fake closing argument it's also showed- no blood on the wire, but Teruko and Eden are already there.

When Teruko and Eden walk in, Ace's neck is already cut and the wire is covered with blood. Is it really just a mistake? I highly doubt that.

Now let's get back to the tape. I mentioned earlier that I do think someone took it, with that someone being Eden.

"Didn't you say you believe she's not the killer?"

I still do. The reason I believe she took the tape is not because she's the killer, but because Hu asked her. We know that she told Eden about the clothes, so isn't there a possibility that she also asked her to grab the tape, since the gym and the changing room are close? With that, Eden could've grabbed the tape when Teruko was talking with MonoTV, right before it kicked them out. It doesn't make a lot of sense, but... It's at least something, I hope.

Besides everything that I wrote above, Hu is more suspicious with the glove thing, that were already mentioned by many other people before me, I think (it's at least more than one person). And now I will get back to Eden and Arei's conversation, that I mentioned as proof of Ace's innocence.

"Yeah, how Hu might have possibly knew about this? Isn't this also proof of her innocence?"

Yes aaand no. I won't go into details, since @demodraws0606 (whose theories actually inspire me, so I want to thank them) explained how Nico might've heard the conversation in their post. If what they wrote happens to be true, then I can't think of any other reasons why Hu can't be Arei's killer.

That's all, I think. Again, I am not a theorist and I do not analyse things as much as I really should to write posts like this, so if I'm missing something- I would really appreciate it if you tell me.

#drdt #drdt spoilers #eden tobisa #ace markey #nico hakobyan #hu jing #teruko tawaki

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dark-and-kawaii · 17 hours

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Idk if I wanna be pinned under Lofn's brother or son more. Please stop making such beautiful characters

(please continue but also let me read about having them carnally. I'm begging)

Both?!?! Both is good ♡ ♡ ♡ This is incredible and I feel like I’m on cloud nine right now my god!!! I got you babes xoxo

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ Pairings: Original Male Characters x F!Reader

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ Content: NSFW - Good Fucking - Stretched Holes - Tenderness - One Fucks You Like A Princess - One Fucks You Like A Whore He Loves

⟡ ݁₊ . Zavrik: The one who strokes your hair as you get accustomed to his sheer size, “It's all right, darling. It's all right. That’s a good girl. You don't have to move yet. Let me take charge, just relax... and enjoy it. I won't hurt you, my love. Just lie still, that's all you have to do. I’ll take good care of you.”

And the second he kisses you, you're lost. Drowning in him. Losing yourself and becoming an extension of his pleasure and his passion. He kisses like a dying man. Kisses like you're his oxygen, like he's desperate for you. As if without you, he wouldn't exist.

Your heart, mind and body will never be safer than when you are with him.

⟡ ݁₊ . Aedric: The one who has his hand fisted in your hair, stretching your spasming little hole to the breaking point. He is the one who takes you, over and over until you’re sobbing his name.

And you will sob his name.

You are his, and he will remind you of that again and again and again, until his name is the only thing that you remember, the only thing that passes through your lips, the only thing that fills your mind, and the only thing you crave.

“That's it. Come for me. Say my name, and come for me, lovely. Let me hear how much you love this. How much you love my cock buried inside you. Don’t be shy, let me hear how sweet and dirty my girl is.” Don’t worry, he’ll hold close to him as your body trembles and your mind slips from your control, letting your body fall to his command.

Aedric loves you in his own way, and despite how rough he is you know there’s nothing to be afraid of when in his care. You are safe, and protected.

#love how some of you guys went from Zevlor to my babies xoxo #bg3 #baldur’s gate 3 #bg3 smut #original male character #original male character x reader #x reader #baldurs gate 3 #baldurs gate #tav #Aedric Thay #Zavrik Cormyr Thay #˚₊‧꒰ა❤︎໒꒱‧₊˚ 𝓛𝓸𝓯𝓷 & 𝓩𝓮𝓿𝓵𝓸𝓻 ˚₊‧꒰ა❤︎໒꒱‧₊˚#dnd oc

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perseephoneee · 3 days

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𝓒𝓱𝓪𝓹𝓽𝓮𝓻 𝓥𝓘𝓘

In which, you, a lady of the ton, are forced to participate in courting season. Except that courting season comes with one particularly silver tongued Prince who is making it his mission to drive you absolutely insane.

↳ fic masterlist ↳ ship exchange ↳ taglist

a/n: the penultimate chapter, everyone. I can't believe we've made it so far. i hope this story kinda works...it was my first time doing longform and one day i will rewrite all of this to make more sense, but for now its as it is. I love you all.

Loki knew it was improper of him to have met you without a chaperone-like that, but he couldn't find it in himself to care. He wanted, no need, to see you. Damn the consequences. Still, guilt gnawed at him. You were innocent in these games, merely appeasing a figure bigger than yourself. He could relate to that.

On Sundays, he had breakfast with his mother. Thor was usually in meetings with the Allfather, but Loki was never truly wanted there and preferred to spend time with the lady of the house anyway. Their usual tea and assortment of pastries didn’t improve wasn't his mood, though, and he still felt contemplative. Frigga noticed.

"My son, what is wrong?" She questioned, putting her teacup down. She always drank jasmine, a delicacy they got from Odin's dealings with China. She preferred the lighter floral flavor to the Queen's English breakfast tea.

"Nothing is wrong, Mother," Loki lied, the words rolling off his tongue with ease. He was always good with lies. Unfortunately, his mother was even better at seeing through them.

"It wouldn't have anything to do with the Chilton girl, would it? The one your brother didn't marry?" Frigga delicately grabbed a scone as if she were discussing the weather. She was trained to gather information without making it seem like she was. Another thing Loki learned from her.

"The mamas of the ton gathered for tea the other day, and her Grandmother was discussing it," Frigga continued on. "Dreadful woman, truly, I don't envy those two girls."

Loki hid a laugh behind his hand, coughing instead and taking another sip of tea.

"She was very loudly complaining about her youngest granddaughter's willful spirit and how it would give her a heart attack one of these days," Frigga chuckled. Loki got the sense she remembered the many times he and Thor had given her a scare.

"Some of the other mamas made comments about how you and she seemed to spend more time together than she and Thor," Frigga spooned some sugar into her tea. "So, my son, I will ask you again if anything is wrong."

Loki took a pause at that, holding his tongue. He drummed his fingers on the table.

"I won't answer things you already know."

"Did something happen?" His mother raised a brow, a challenge in her gaze. His stubbornness was less from his father and more from his mother. She could will any man into submission.

"Nothing happened, mama," Loki sighed. Not a lie. Nothing happened. Although he wanted it to happen. He wanted to press his lips to yours, breathe in your scent, hold you so you could never fall away from him. Instead, he let go. He wouldn't be the stain on your life that he is on his fathers.

Frigga pursed her lips, observing him. She set down her tea cup and rested her hands on the table, something she only did when she was about to say something of importance. Loki braced himself for a lecture.

"Your brother is not a jealous man, and your father is a hard one to please," Frigga stated. "The only thing in the way of your happiness is yourself. I did not raise a fool." With that, Frigga excused herself from tea, leaving her son alone at the table. The only sound left in the room was the clicking of the grandfather clock, the minute hand matching the pace of his thoughts.

Loki liked you. He might even love you. That was the only logical explanation for his delusions. He rubbed his eyes, hating the tension building up behind them as he thought of the chaos he had caused by even getting involved in the life of you.

"Mother said I might find you here," Thor said from the doorway, walking over to the now vacant seat. Loki glanced up as Thor poured himself some tea. Or attempted to. He spilled some creamer and burned his fingers, picking up the cup from the body, not the handle.

"You need to wait for it to cool," Loki sighed, wiping up the spilled creamer. It's appalling to Loki that his oaf of a brother is the one expected to take over the Odinson household.

"I don't often drink tea."

"Clearly."

"But that's not why I'm here, brother," Thor ignores his jab, gingerly sipping his tea and visibly relaxing when it doesn't burn his tongue.

"Oh joy," Loki leaves the table, strolling towards one of the setees. He, of course, does this quite dramatically.

"I always thought you be clever, but I am shocked to find you acting so idiotic," Thor puts his tea down, standing up and heading Loki's way.

"How dare you–"

"Lady Y/N is obviously enamored with you, and you with her. I don't understand why you aren't doing anything about it," Thor sighs. "Is it your own stubbornness? A sense of pride? Please explain it to me."

"I am not enamored with her, and it is not stubbornness," Loki hisses. "She can do better than me, a second son, anyway."

"Is that what you truly believe? That you are really just a second son?"

Loki doesn't respond to that. He just stares out of the window overlooking the room. His mother was inspired by Greek architecture and, therefore, put arched pillars as separators for the open windows. They overlooked the veranda, which was starting to transition into autumn. Oh, how time has passed.

"I will be leaving for France in the coming months."

Loki turned to his brother, hiding a shock that otherwise would have covered his face.

"Leaving? For what?"

"For war," Thor said. "Napolean is out of exile, and his troops are approaching Waterloo. I intend to be there alongside my brothers."

"You must be mad."

"Perhaps," Thor laughed. "But I have always wanted to fight, not to sit behind a desk and manage the affairs of a household. You have always been a better diplomat. I much prefer being a soldier." His brother took a seat on the settee, running a hand through his hair and waiting for Loki to sit down. "Allfather will be declaring you the heir as soon as you are wed. So, no, Loki, you are not the second son. You are the better one."

"I don't deserve you," Loki frowned, finally sitting down next to Thor. "You are a better brother than I could ever be."

"Life has not always been kind to you; that is alright; you are learning," Thor said, placing a hand on Loki's shoulder, demanding his attention. "You deserve peace, and you are allowed to have it."

It is not often that Loki becomes emotional. He is used to putting aside his own wants for the needs of the crown. He is used to enduring verbal backlash from his father over every little thing. He is used to being ignored when his brother enters a room. So often, he felt like a tablepiece in his own home. But truly, he was an idiot. His brother saw him the whole time.

Without another word, Loki embraced his brother, shocking them both. He was done being a tablepiece. He wanted to be seen.

"Letter!" Ivy screamed from the bottom of the stairs, immediately being shushed by one of the housekeepers. Immediately after your rendezvous with Loki, you had told Ivy everything. All of your fears, wants, and concerns. You had actively been courted by Thor; you couldn't pursue Loki. But he put you in a compromising position that could have gotten you in trouble in society. Did you like Loki? Or did you convince yourself you did? These were the questions swirling around your brain all week. Ivy was in favor of you running off and eloping if only to annoy Grandmother. You hit her with a pillow for that statement.

"Why would I be receiving a letter?" You ask, descending the stairs as you glared at the offending item.

"No clue, but I think you should look at it," Ivy said coyly. You got the distinct impression she knew exactly what this letter was about. You took it out of her grasp, peeling off the wax seal and reading the inked words.

Meet me at the ball by midnight tonight when we first conversed.

Loki

"So?" Ivy peered over your shoulder. "What did he say?"

"Poetic things," you drawled. "He has such a way with words."

"You're lucky the man likes your sharp tongue; otherwise, you'd scare off all the suitors," Ivy sighed. You suppressed a small smile. "So? Are you going?"

"Did you write this?" You ask her, turning around and crossing your arms.

"Of course I didn't!"

"Really?"

"I am not one to lie, sister," Ivy grabbed your hands, pulling you closer. "I am only the messenger. A messenger that is urging you to listen for once in your life." You only glared at your sister.

"I have nothing to wear."

"I already bought you a dress."

"You've been planning this, haven't you?"

"Perhaps," Ivy shrugged. "Now, c'mon! I want enough time to transform you."

You indeed didn't have a choice. Ivy was persistent when she set her mind to something. She yanked your hair left and right to transform it into a perfectly curled and pinned high bun. The dress she chose was unlike anything you had ever seen before, and you had no clue where she could've possibly afforded something like it. It was a deep green with a traditional empire waist, but the bodice was covered in a lacy emerald green fabric and decorated with a glimmery trim. The skirt faded to a lighter emerald green at the bottom, giving the appearance of a forest being lit up by the sunrise. You wore your mother's necklace to match, something that grounded the outfit into something wholesome yet romantic.

"You look ethereal," Ivy looked at you in the vanity mirror. "You look like Mom."

You smiled, turning around to envelop your sister in a hug. "I love you, Ivy." She just squeezed you tighter. "I never want to go to another ball again; this is ridiculously tiresome." Ivy laughed at that and let you go, smoothing down the parts of your dress that got scrunched up.

This event took place outside, a last-ditch effort to enjoy the weather before winter set in. The ball was set on the lake, with a variety of lanterns floating through the waters and hanging around the pavilion where guests danced. It looked like a twinkling city, and it was one of the few times when your breath was taken away.

You were already getting more stares than usual from other people, perhaps because it was the first time you dressed up. Or perhaps because everyone knew that Thor didn't propose to you. You ignored their stares and found the first drink you could. It was a long way till midnight, and your nerves were already getting the better of you. You hiked up your skirts and found your way to the water's edge, where workers were helping guests set out lanterns of their own. You asked one of them if the lights were just for decoration or if there was a specific meaning.

"To drive out the darkness of winter and hope for a longer spring, m'lady," he bowed, offering you a lantern of your own. You accepted graciously, finding a quiet place farther down the shore to push your lantern out.

"Making a wish?" a familiar voice said. You turned to see Loki, arms crossed and looking every bit the prince he was meant to be.

"Driving away the darkness, at least that's what they told me," you gestured towards where most of the partygoers were.

"I believe in some traditions; it is also to honor the dead."

"What a somber occasion for a party."

"I surmise they didn't truly know the reason; they thought it would be pretty." Loki shrugged, earning a chuckle from you. You closed up again, remembering that awkward encounter all those nights ago. Turning to your lantern, you looked at the water before returning to the prince.

"We need more lanterns," you declared, marching back to the initial servant who gave you yours. Loki followed behind, not saying anything, but you could tell he wanted to ask. You got three more lanterns and passed two to Loki, returning to the spot you scoped out before.

"Do I dare ask what you're doing?"

"Honoring the deceased," you crouched down, taking one of the lanterns from Loki so you had three. He joined you on the ground, letting you have a moment with your three lanterns. Taking a breath, you pushed them all out on the water. He waited for a second to let his drift away as well.

"To your sister," you said, bowing your head slightly.

"To your family, may they find brighter shores," Loki breathed, eyes softening as he looked at you.

You both continued sitting on the shores, not making a move to get up. If anyone caught you in this position, it would be trouble, but you couldn't find it in yourself to care.

"We can't go back, can we?" you whispered, looking out at the lanterns getting farther and farther from shore.

"No, we can't."

"Then, why haven't you asked me?" your voice cracked slightly, your eyes finding Loki's.

"Because I'm worried I don't deserve you."

"That isn't up to you to decide, is it?" you inquired, raising a brow. Loki's mouth tilted up in a smile as if trying his best to suppress it but failing miserably.

"I should probably ask then."

"Most likely, before the fireworks start and I am unable to hear you stumble through your speech," you jested, sliding back into your old routine so easily. Loki sat up, offering you a hand, which you took gratefully as you smoothed out, your dress.

"Such a sharp tongue on you; will that ever change?" Loki questioned.

"Most likely not."

"Good," Loki grinned. "I wouldn't want anything else."

"You're stalling."

"I might be a wordsmith, but being vulnerable is not something I particularly enjoy," Loki responded. "But with you, I am forced to be vulnerable, and it rather terrifies me. Except, I keep coming back despite that fear because a day without you is a day without the sun." Loki let out a breath, brows furrowed. He looked so serious, and you thought you had never seen him so handsome. "Y/N…marry me."

"Yes," you responded, grinning. "Now, I think I am owed something."

"Yes, yes you are."

Loki wasted no time in pressing his lips to yours, gentle yet strong in a way that had you yearning for more. The fireworks erupted in the background, the party cheering for the colorful display of lights and excitement. You yourself felt like a firework, quickly bursting into a million specks coating the sky. And you wouldn't have it any other way.

taglist: @eleniblue @iwrite-things @youneedanap @huntress-artemiss @linaax @pisces-celeste @marygoddessofmischief @gruftiela @saay-karani @foxherder @lover-of-books-and-tea @lilaclaufeyson @gardasngan @evasmlp @swampespresso

#of vices and men #loki #loki x reader #loki laufeyson #loki laufeyson x reader #loki imagine #loki laufeyson imagine #tom hiddleston #tom hiddleston x reader #marvel #marvel fics #my writing

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ailendolin · 3 days

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Live Reaction to TRoP 2x06

I have a feeling there will be no Elrond in this episode and my inner Durin is already crying over it

but my boy Arondir is here so that is good

probably not for the orcs, though

yep, told you so. Don't mess with Arondir. The way he sheathed his sword at the end? Absolute badass

oh that's Eregion on the map. Let's see if Arondir will make it there since no one else ever seems to manage to

I don't suppose that's a good sign there's a (admittedly cute) mouse in the forge

oh Celebrimbor is deteriorating so quickly. I just want to give him a hug and yeet Annatar off that tower

is this the episode where he will throw the hammer at Annatar? Ngl I am looking forward to that

the gentle music when Annatar is pretending to be understanding is making me so emotional because Calebrimbor needs comfort so badly and Annatar knows exactly what chords to play to make him think he is getting it

oh Valar, he is so tired. Someone get him out of there and please let him rest. Fuck, this episode is going to break my heart, isn't it?

I am LOVING the elves in uniform! Look at them! The way the colours blend together on their armour is so pretty

Malendol my beloved! Please join Camnir, Vorohil and Rían in my little collection of favourite minor characters who we will probably never see again (or, Valar forbid, see getting killed off)

omg he is so pretty and his voice! Aaaaah!

(this has nothing to with the episode but I am already seeing myself shipping him with Camnir for no other reason than that I love them both. This is not good. I need to stop getting attached to one-off characters)

Mirdania, I'm sorry, but you are grating on my nerves a little here

I'm loving the foreboding music when Annatar takes her hand

did you see the banners in the background? I want one of them and am once again asking Amazon: where the merch?

ah it's time for the Adar & Galadriel dinner scene. I didn't watch the clip that was released but I know people were screaming about it so this is going to be interesting

lol I see Adar is pulling no punches here and calling Galadriel out on her obsession with Sauron immediately. Good for him. Elrond would like you

Sauron promised her an army? Gal, love, he wanted to make you his queen

"Children." Nooooo what? Adar only ever wanted to be a dad. I'm crying

but oh this is so clever of him when he says Sauron's lies which must be extinguished becuase one thing I've loved about the show's portrayal of Sauron in season 1 is that he didn't lie to Galadriel. She was the one who constantly put words in his mouth

yes let the exes unionise!

oh he's got the stabby crown!

"The fate of that city now rests on your ability to put aside your pride." Yep, Eregion is doomed

Elendil! Everyone's adopted dad's not having a good time right now

clever, Pharazon. But Elendil will never renounce Miriel

YES, I told you he wouldn't! Fuck you, Pharazon, that man loves his queen and will never serve you

Lol. "Snoring? Who's snoring?" Tom, I love you, but you are not good at giving pep talks

Poppy and Merimac :)

omg that's a long time to decide on a name. What were his parents thinking?

I repeat: Poppy and Merimac :) That kiss was so sweet

and look, Tom, Poppy is great at pep talks. That's how you do it

okay we're going staff finding. Is it ridiculous that for a moment I thought he might get his staff from the Stoor tree?

omg you're not throwing the Gandalf quote in there without warning, are you? My poor heart can't take all these emotions. It's such a beautiful quote and I guess this is one more argument in favour of the "The Stranger is Gandalf" theory?

Khazad-Dûm my beloved

look at all that gold. I'm getting Erebor flashbacks (flashforwards?) here, and not in a good way

Annatar, get the fuck away from Durin, I swear. Where the hell is Elrond? He would feed you to the Balrog in a heartbeat

"More precious?" Do not use that fucking word

oh, the answer is no? That's a surprise. I bet there's a catch

noooo, not the fucking Balrog in the flames. He's going to wake him up, I know it. Just look at his smug, little face

ah, there's the catch. Poor Durin

"No, you belong to it." Truer words have never been spoken

I see Durin is faring as well as Elrond when it comes to convincing loved ones that the rings are dangerous. They are truly besties even in that

oh no, he's crying. My heart. He's stuck in such an awful situation and I am so glad he and Disa are uniting over it instead of letting it drive them apart as well

those trumpets sound gorgeous

ah, Earien is beginning to learn that actions have consequences. Good. Her relationship to her father is so complicated. It feels as if they're always talking at each other, not to each other. And yet you can see how much they love each other in every painful interactions

Forehead touch! This is not a drill!

YES DISA! Show them! Oh I love her so much. Her secret weapon is bats! I wrote my PhD about bats and they have a very special place in my heart so go, Disa, I am rooting for you and your bats!

"I love you." The moment we were all Durin

of course MIriel is going to face judgement in Elendil's place. Those two love each other so much without ever saying those words and I'm so here for it

she is cradling his face. I can't

and have I mentioned how fucking brave she is? Imagine facing that sea monster and not even being able to see it coming?

damn but this is shot absolutely beautifully

please let her gain a new pet sea monster that is going to swallow Pharazon and Kemen for breakfast

fuck yes, "Hail Tar-Miriel, Queen of the Sea!"

i love the cracking reality effect of the Palantir

so Adar knows Elrond has Nenya now. That's going to have consequences, isn't it? Will he try to capture Elrond to get the ring so he can defeat Sauron?

okay, Adar came prepared. Good for him. Bad for Celebrimbor and Eregion

Glûg my beloved! I have missed you! Please don't get yourself killed in the siege

oh that call to war is epic

Malendol! Aaaaaah another glimpse of him! I am so smitten it's ridiculous

aaaaand the Siege of Eregion is on

aw no, don't destroy your sketches, Celebrimbor

omg Annatar is such a little shit. "How fares your progress?" That smile, I can't

ooooh fuck, Celebrimbor fighting back? Physically? YES!

oh no, it's a vision. This is so fucking cruel. Look how relieved he is that his people are well. This is also a reminder to us viewers how much life will be lost in the coming episodes. That this was a place of happiness, once

fuck, there's the hammer

and mithril ore? Are you kidding me?

the oath. And the thing is, he is right. It will be all about the rings

and there's that word again. Precious. It is haunting the narrative and I love that it is being used for all the rings because they are all, one way or another, a product of Sauron's mind

"Best Feanor himself." Celebrimbor, why don't you use that hammer and smack Sauron back to Mordor? Please?

and the illusion stops. The fact that Celebrimbor doesn't even know what time of day it is ... my heart hurts

also the fact that the last peaceful moment of Eregion we saw was a lie? That the last moment it gleamed in sunlight was nothing but a cruel trick?

*insert gif of Theoden* So it begins

the end credit music is making me sad. Who gave Bear McCreary the right?

seriously though, Charlie E deserves all the awards. His Celebrimbor is so heart-breakingly kind and so heart-breakingly flawed at the same time and I just want to wrap him up in a blanket and hug him

two more episodes. Valar give us strength for what is to come

#the rings of power #trop #trop spoilers #rings of power #rings of power spoilers #lin reacts

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dav-suburbiia · 2 days

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drdt ch2 ep14 spoilers

compiling some of my thoughts

god . fuck . the way Teruko’s “let go of me” was so soft and apprehensive as if she didn’t want to scare Eden further than she already was . I’M SICKKKK/pos

I still love Hu but yeah her insistence got a little much in this episode . thank you for everything girl but please . please take a break . that desperate smile as she begged Nico to let her defend them… she has some harrowing issues she needs to work out. I can’t wait to learn more!

david chiem secures his number one placement at the “top ten worst bisexuals” list /aff. god. I’m actually insane about him and Teruko’s foils it is everything to me. he wants Teruko to give into her nature so he can use her as a method to prove his worldview right- that every person is born with their permanent “nature” in their blood, and that it’s pointless trying to change that. he wants her to do what she’s always done, because that’s how he gets the advantage on her. that’s how he gets his satisfaction, when there’s nothing left to feasibly criticize about his words because he knows for sure he’s right. all he wants is for him, the man born to lie, to be proven without a shadow of a doubt that he is CORRECT.

but Teruko is not giving him that fulfillment. she knows he has a point, she knows he’s using her word against her, she is visibly affected by this “easy choice” he’s dangling in front of her. yet she doesn’t take his bait. she chooses to make room for a little bit of trust. not just to spite David, but also to make the trial more organized and efficient. she is working to fix her fatal mistake from earlier in the trial. and it’s fucking awesome.

Teruko as a character is just so engaging. she wants to find excuses for not trusting others, yet at the same time she also protects herself with excuses TOWARDS trusting others.

“I’m repaying your favor, and nothing else. That’s why I’ll trust you, just this once.”

she is so conflicted about what she wants. about what she THINKS she wants versus what is BEST. she wants to do the right thing, but she wants to be safe. I hope to see that grow and blossom as DRDT continues, because she is truly one of, if not, THE greatest fangan protagonist I know of

gah, and here comes the Ace culprit accusation. it may not be Huover after all… but, we’ll see where this goes. I think they’ll bring up Ace’s gloves (for the rope burn) and his strength (for getting the rope over the ceiling, which I assume was done with the starch ball…? he did have a chance to get the clothes, because he was a part of the redesign gang) when talking about his possibility as a culprit. either way, I look forward to what happens next!

good shit, DRDTDev. I’m loving everything about this. thank you for all you do . 🙏

#david rambles ★#drdt #danganronpa despair time #drdt spoilers #teruko tawaki #david chiem

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roundandroundandroundandroundan · 1 day

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I got bored waiting for my laundry to laundry, so I started rolling an incorrect quotes generator with various dominion smp characters.

(AS PER USUAL TO THOSE OF YOU WHO I KNOW ARE ON THIS WEBBED SITE I APOLOGIZE IN ADVANCE FOR ANY HORRID MANGLING OF CHARACTERS)

Sneve, standing with their back turned: I’ve been expecting you, Legundo. Legundo: How did you do that without turning around? Sneve: ... To be perfectly honest, the first couple of people I did that to were not you.

Sneve: I can explain. Legundo: Can you? Sneve: If you give me thirty seconds to think of a lie.

Viking: Man, I only ever see you awake, do you ever shut down or stop running? Legundo: Oh, I’m always running Legundo: The question is from what

Legundo: Can you please be serious for five minutes? Sneve: My record is four, but I think I can do it.

Legundo: What if the 'g' in 'gif' is silent? Viking: Go the heck to sleep Legundo: What gif I don't want to? Viking: No.

Legundo: Where are you going? Viking: To get ice cream or commit a felony, I’ll decide on the way there

Legundo: Violence isn't the answer. Viking: You’re right. Legundo: *sighs in relief* Viking: Violence is the question. Legundo: What? Viking, bolting away: And the answer is yes. Legundo, running after them: NO-

Sneve: I was born for politics. I have great hair and I love lying.

Sneve: Physically, yes, I could fight a bird. But emotionally? Imagine the toll.

Viking: Goodnight moon. Viking: Goodnight tree. Viking: Goodnight ghosts that only I can see.

Sneve: I think we're missing something. Legundo: Teamwork? Shadow: Cohesion? Joy: A general sense of what we’re doing?

Sneve: Is stabbing someone immoral? Legundo: Not if they consent to it. Shadow: Depends who you’re stabbing. Joy: YES?!?

Cop: You’re receiving a ticket for having three people on one motorcycle. Sneve: Sh*t. Joy: Wait, three? Cop: Yeah? Shadow: OH MY GOD LEGUNDO FELL OFF!!!

Legundo: I currently have 7 empty notebooks and I have no clue what to put in them. Suggestions? Sneve: Put spaghetti in it. Legundo: I'm currently taking suggestions from literally anyone but you. Shadow: Put spaghetti in it. Legundo: I'm currently taking suggestions from anyone but you two. Joy: Put spaghetti in it. Legundo: I'm no longer taking suggestions.

Legundo: How did none of you hear what I just said? Joy: I’ve been zoned out for the past two and a half hours. Shadow: I got distracted about halfway through. Sneve: Ignoring you was a conscious decision.

Sneve: On a scale from “damn Daniel” to “fre sha vaca do”, how are you feeling? Legundo: In between “it’s an avocado, thanks” and “how did you defeat Captain America”, but as a solid answer I would say “I don’t need a degree to be a clothing hanger”. How about you, Shadow? Shadow: Probably “road work ahead”. Joy: I speak many languages, and this is none of them.

Sneve, setting down a card: Ace of spades Legundo, pulling out an Uno card: +4 Joy, pulling out a Pokémon card: Jolteon, I choose you Shadow, trembling: What are we playing

Sneve: *Posts a super low-quality image to the group chat* Legundo: If I had a dollar for every pixel in this image, I’d have 15 cents Sneve: If I had a dollar for every ounce of rage I felt in my body after I read this text, I would have enough money to buy a cannon to fire at you Shadow: Actually I did the math, Legundo would have $225, not $0.15. Legundo: Fam I’m right here.... Joy: If I had a dollar I would buy a can of soda :) Sneve: while you’re there could you buy me an apply juice please? Joy: Sorry I only have a dollar Sneve: :( Shadow: Hey I just realized my friend is right, Legundo would have $22,500 because it's a dollar for every pixel, not a cent Joy: If I had $22,500 I would buy a can of soda and an apply juice Shadow: You can buy anything you want with $22,500 Taneesha: Yeah and they want soda and apply juice Shadow: Apply juice to what Viking: Directly to the forehead Legundo: Great chat everyone

*The squad right before Legundo's wedding* Sneve: Well I have to go, I have a wedding to attend. Shadow: Wait... Oh! I have a wedding to attend too! Viking: Oh, I have a wedding to attend as well Taneesha: I THINK WE ALL HAVE WEDDINGS TO ATTEND Joy, panicked: I THINK I HAVE A WEDDING TO OFFICIATE

Legundo: I CAN'T DO IT! Sneve, laughing: I CAN'T EITHER! Legundo: I CANT DO IT ANYMORE Shadow: WELL I'LL TELL YOU WHAT, YOU CAN EITHER GIVE UP NOW, OR YOU CAN FIGURE IT OUT. BECAUSE WE CERTAINLY CAN'T DO IT WITHOUT YOU, AND WE KNOW YOU CAN'T DO IT WITHOUT US. Legundo: Legundo: I appreciate it, Legundo: BUT LOOK WHAT WE'RE DEALING WITH- Joy: Legundo- Legundo: YOU GOTTA DRAW THE LINE SOMEWHERE! Taneesha: Legundo we gotta- Legundo: YOU GOTTA DRAW A LINE IN THE SAND. YOU GOTTA MAKE A STATEMENT. Legundo: YOU GOTTA LOOK INSIDE YOURSELF AND SAY 'What am I willing to put up with today?' Legundo, motioning to Viking: NOT THIS

Sneve: Rules are made to be broken. Legundo: They were made to be followed. Nothing is made to be broken. Shadow: Uh, piñatas. Joy: Glow sticks. Taneesha: Karate boards. Viking: Spaghetti when you have a small pot. Sneve: Rules. Legundo:

Sneve: Dumbest scar stories, go! Legundo: I burned my tongue once drinking tea. Shadow: I dropped a hair dryer on my leg once and burned it. Joy: I have a piece of graphite in my leg for accidentally stabbing myself with a pencil in the first grade. Taneesha: I was taking a cup of noodles out of the microwave and spilled it on my hand and I got a really bad burn. Viking: Viking: I have emotional scars.

Legundo, walking into their house: Hello, people who do not live here. Viking: Hey. Shadow: Hi. Joy: Hello. Taneesha: Hey! Legundo: I gave you the key to my place for emergencies only! Sneve: We were out of Doritos.

Sneve: Time for plan G. Taneesha: Don’t you mean plan B? Sneve: No, we tried plan B a long time ago. I had to skip over plan C due to technical difficulties. Shadow: What about plan D? Sneve: Plan D was that desperate disguise attempt half an hour ago. Joy: What about plan E? Sneve: I’m hoping not to use it. Legundo dies in plan E. Viking: I like plan E.

Sneve: There are seven chairs and ten kids. What do you do? Legundo: Have everyone stand. Shadow: Bring three more chairs! Joy: The most important ones can sit down. Viking: Kill three.

#vikingpilot #legundo #sneve #shadowmech #RNJoy #Taneesha #dominon smp

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nekohime19 · 2 days

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Mini Mac # 48 : Babies first words

Sav is a lil Savage, Rumble is pouty, and the babies say their first words

Wukong had never thought he would ever say this, but as he ran after his daughter, he kind of understood Heaven's frustration with himself. Even if he was still upset for a number of good reasons he has to admit he felt pity for what they dealt with him. By the gods was it hard to reason with a monkey causing mayhem with their powers. It was like nature gave a sword to a pup.

After realizing she had powers beyond what she thought, Savage decided to explore her every ability. She shot lasers at the most random time. Transformed without any reasons. And sneezed out clones as mischievous as her. Luckily, Rumble didn't seem interested in his sister's madness. For now, he only watched from afar without manifesting any powers of his own. Thanks the gods for that.

Wukong finally caught the flickering tiny fish hopping on the ground and put her in a bowl filled with water. Savage swam happily, going in circles. Her powers were a mess. They were chaotic. Going from one to another without any warning. Luckily, she was still too young and inexperienced to use them properly. Her magic always fizzled out after half an hour of use.

It was a very tiring half an hour though.

“So is someone going to address the elephant in the room?” Huffed Bajie. They were currently settling camp near a river. Soon, they'll reach the borders of a new village, but for now they were resting.

“What do you mean?” Asked Wujing with a tilted head.

“How did the brat get the Monkey powers? I thought she was only related to Macaque?” Silence veiled them after the pig's question. It was a fair interrogation. Wukong wondered the same thing. Technically, the twins were supposed to only carry Macaque's genetics, but somehow Savage had his powers.

Now that he looked closer, her amber-fur and light-pink heart-shaped mask also looked like his. Not that Wukong was against her daughter having his powers. He was somehow ecstatic about it. But it was odd nonetheless.

“Did you two had intercourses without us know-” Macaque cut Bajie before he could end his sentence.

“Of course not!”

“Perhaps it's an effect of the child giving river we weren't aware of?” Proposed Sanzang. A reasonable explanation.

“Or maybe Macaque's feelings for Wukong manifested when the bud was still folded!” Chimed Ao Lie. Macaque flushed at that, his fur puffing out. He glared at the dragon-horse. Wukong smiled at the sight.

Savage suddenly poofed out of her transformation and looked up at Wukong with weary eyes. Using magic was tiring. The great sage cooed, he dried her and groomed her with the edge of his claw, and then put her in the crib with her brother. Savage chirped at Rumble and got a hold of his tail, she snuggled it as if it was her personal toy. Rumble chirped angrily but let her do as she pleased.

Wukong smiled, he petted both their tiny fuzzy heads with the pad of his fingers. They chirped tiredly at him. Then Savage got a hold of his finger and munched on it. Typical, snorted Wukong. The lil devil then looked up and mumbled :

“Pa…aaa.” Wukong froze. He had tried to get them to talk for weeks now. This single word shook him to the core. Rumble looked at his sister and imitated her :

“Pa..” He chirped at Wukong.

Gods, Wukong was gonna cry.

“M-Macaque!” He called. The black-furred monkey stopped arguing with the other and came over.

“What is it?”

“Pa!” Chirped Savage as she munched on Wukong's finger. Macaque froze.

“Pa…?” Repeated Rumble when he saw the both of them frozen still.

Macaque immediately scooped up the two furballs and nuzzled them, drowning them in kisses. Wukong brought Macaque and the pups close to his face and nuzzled them, pressing his cheeks against them.

This was one of the happiest moments of his life.

The pilgrims watched the sweet moment with soft smiles. “Or perhaps, it's Savage who recognized Wukong as her father and thus inherited his powers.” Added Sandy.

Later on that night, Wukong drew this scene in his sketchbook. He drew a lot of the cubs and Macaque in it. Scenes of their everyday life. Of silly things that happened. This was something he cherished more than anything.

+ cut scenes

Savage *swimming as a fish* : 😆

Rumble *watching her* : I will not be part of this madness😑

Fun fact : Now, Savage use the word "Pa" on Wukong when she's in trouble. She knows it makes him melt.

Fun fact : Now Wukong is trying to get the twins to say "Dad" for Macaque.

#shadowpeach #lmk #lego monkie kid #shadowpeach fanfic #six eared macaque #sun wukong #lmk shadowpeach #lmk macaque #mini mac au #Rumble and Savage #Shadowpeach rec

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threeletterslife · 2 days

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38 | Legends of Darlaria

⨰ summary: You wake up in yet another unfamiliar place. This time, however, these strangers seem to recognize you. With your previous judgments and aspirations thrown out the window, you're now forced to face where your loyalties really lie. Who will you betray? And which General will you choose to stand by his side?

⨰ pairing/rating: yoongi x reader & jungkook x reader | PG-15

⨰ genre: 70% angst, 30% fluff | war!au & magic!au

⨰ warnings: profanity, gruesome depictions of the war, death, blood

⨰ wordcount: 5.8k

⨰ join the taglist! (pm/send in an ask/reply/reblog)

⨰ previous | series m.list | next

⧖⧗Many, Many Circas Ago⧗⧖

“On your left!” Jungkook roared over the din of cries on the battlefield. He valiantly swung his sword, catching several Solarian limbs in the process, and sliced right through them as if they were made of paper. Mangled bodies crumpled to the floor, writhing as paper tended to in flames. He marched on, leaving his enemies to die, covered in blood that wasn’t his.

Swerving right, you narrowly missed a ball of fire, no doubt aimed at your head. It would’ve killed you had Jungkook not warned you. But on the battlefield, there was never any time to express gratitude, for one misstep, one second of wasted time could be fatal. Before the enemy could attack you again, you twisted your torso, eyes squinting as you concentrated on their limbs. In seconds, they turned into jelly. The Solarian soldier collapsed into a miserable, trembling heap, fear overtaking their features as their quivering eyes landed on the silver insignia on your black uniform—such a symbol only a General would be fit to wear. Their look of fear spoke to you. Please don’t kill me.

You turned your head.

Never look a helluvian straight in the eyes, Jungkook told you so many times before.

The first time he’d said that you and Hajin had been curious. But why? you’d asked in unison. The two of you had been so naïve then, inexperienced to the real atrocities of war.

It’ll humanize them, Jungkook had answered. It’s easier if you don’t think of them as people.

You walked away from the pleading soldier, sparing their life at the moment, but knowing their death was imminent. They had nowhere to run, for there was an entire unit of Darlaean soldiers right behind them. Guilt ripped through your guts, but you swallowed it just as you usually did. If Jungkook could walk away so easily, you should be able to, too.

You caught up to your lieutenant, who, despite the grueling hours already spent on the field, only had a light sheen of sweat on his forehead. If he weren’t drenched in others’ blood, it would’ve been hard to believe he was at war. Jungkook glanced at you from his peripheral vision and nodded to himself as if he were glad you were left unscathed from your last encounter. Then he was off again, his sword glinting in the afternoon sunlight, his sapphire radiant amongst the sea of deep red and black uniforms. He always moved as if he saw ten steps ahead—perhaps he truly did.

“On your right!” you called in caution.

Yet, the Solarian you’d warned about was already writhing on the ground by the time you finished your sentence. Jungkook gave you a knowing look. Thanks anyway.

You and your lieutenant ventured further into the battlefield, working in perfect tandem and paving a path for the rest of your army. You had no need for weapons—nor did you prefer them. So, you stuck to your maskings, which were temporary and meant to be innocuous. It was stupid, of course, to think that you were mitigating the Solarians’ pain by masking their limbs into jelly or their scarlet uniforms into stone. They would die anyway. But you just couldn’t do it. It was selfish and cowardly; yet, even the thought of having someone else’s blood on your hands made you feel sick. You couldn’t look anyone in their eyes—Solarian or not—and kill them. How could you? They were people too—people who just happened to be wearing a different uniform. They, too, would have loved ones to go back to after the battle was over. They, too, would mourn the deaths of the fallen once the rust-colored dust settled. They, too, would antagonize the very people who dared to take the lives of their brave ones. Yes, it was naïve to think you, the General of the Darlaean Army, could get away without spilling blood on her hands—you knew that. You also knew your refusal to kill was to satiate your own sense of morality. But knowing that you weren’t the direct cause of anyone’s demise gave you peace of mind—the kind that allowed you to sleep better at night and maintain your appetite.

Jungkook, on the other hand, didn’t mind a bit of bloodshed.

“Move!” he shouted. Even amongst the roar of the battle, you could hear his booming voice, devoid of its usual silvery tone. He sent a forceful kick to a Solarian in his way, sliced their head off, and leaped into the three-way fight that Seokjin was on the verge of losing. Your poor comrade sported burn marks all over his sleek uniform and looked exhausted, though determined to persevere. Still, it was three against one; if Jungkook hadn’t intervened, Seokjin would be dead.

In a flash, your lieutenant severed the limbs of one of Seokjn’s attackers and size-shifted the eyes of the other until they popped out of his skull. That gave Seokjin just enough time to duck the ball of fire of the third and deliver a killing kick to her head. Before the captain could express his gratitude, Jungkook was off again, moving swiftly with the wind, the only glint of color coming from the sapphire on his sword. Seokjin looked stunned for half a second, as one may when one was only seconds away from death, but he hastily resumed fighting, covering your blind spots. You, in turn, allowed Jungkook to take the lead.

The march back to base was a blur as usual. You carried an injured soldier on your back while Jungkook hauled two over each of his strong shoulders right next to you. There were casualties as usual, but they were much lower than expected. Even more miraculously so, you and Jungkook sustained no major injuries—a remarkable feat, considering you had been on the front lines. But perhaps that was just beginner’s luck, for you were the freshly made General and her lieutenant.

Your officials didn’t have to tell you the battle was a success for you to know it.

“I heard you guys killed it!” Hajin said excitedly, grabbing two deviled eggs in each hand and shoving them in her mouth without chewing nearly as much as she should. The three of you were dining in your private quarters, which contrasted starkly with the barracks you were so accustomed to. Private quarters and an office came with your new title. Plus, extravagant food.

“It did go pretty well,” you said, smiling. “Better than expected. I just can’t believe it. No deaths, minimal casualties… Who would’ve thought?”

“Well, that new formation of yours was impenetrable. Absolutely no flaws at all,” Jungkook said as he sipped some wine. He was no longer using one of those half-rusted metal cups. Instead, the dark red wine sat in a beautiful crystal glass. His new title came with perks too. “Seokjin had a close call to death, though. If I hadn’t intervened.”

“Seokjin?” Hajin snorted. “Captain Kim?”

“It was three against one,” Jungkook said. “I had to help him out.”

“I bet he’s going to worship you now,” Hajin snorted. “Maybe he’ll worship you more than he worships Y/N.”

“Oh, come on,” you said. “He’s just a dedicated.”

“Come to think of it, he thanked me after the battle for saving his life and offered to shine my shoes for me.” Jungkook stared down at his feet. “But my shoes are always clean.”

“Well, did you tell him that?” Hajin asked as she took another deviled egg from the plate and took a gigantic bite.

“I did,” Jungkook said. “But he seemed insistent on assisting me in some way, so I let him wash a few of my uniform sets.” He smiled. “Y/N’s right. He’s dedicated. What a great guy.”

Hajin leaned back in her seat, grinning so widely you could nearly see her entire front row of teeth. “I’m so glad we’re still doing this,” she said with a content sigh. “You know, our late-night dinners.”

“And we’ll never stop,” you said. “I look forward to them every night.”

“As do I,” Jungkook said with a soft smile.

The candles in your private quarters flickered, and the breeze from your open window helped the floral scent of the melted wax permeate through the room. It was a cool night, one that made you feel extra warm inside of your quarters. And in that moment, sitting with your loved ones, talking with them over dinner and drinks, you realized that you’d finally accepted your position. You were the General of the Darlaean Army. And you were no longer worried about it.

But with this much power came a mountain of responsibility. You were determined to change Darlae for the better, as Instructor Shin always believed you would. And now you had the means to, for you commanded hundreds of thousands of soldiers who risked their lives in your name as well as the nation’s.

It was strange. Before you were the General, you felt meek and never quite enough, but as soon as you assumed your new title, you morphed into a different person. Perhaps General Son did see your inner potential when he chose you. Or perhaps you didn’t want to fail him when he’d put so much faith in you. So, when all eyes were on you, believing in you, you realized that you had no other choice but to be who they wanted you to be. And instead of that being exhausting, it awakened a part of you that you didn’t know existed.

You shifted the funds, spending hours attempting to make the math work to provide better meals for your soldiers. By the end of the circa, the kitchens were bustling with royal chefs you and Hajin handpicked from the 12th city. Gone were the sad, dry variations of meat, bread and corn that sometimes left the soldiers going to bed still hungry, and in came roast ducks and pigs, delicious, crumbly pastries, and sweet, fresh fruits.

When you realized some soldiers weren’t getting adequate sleep, you strictly banned your officials from giving their subordinates work to do after hours. Within weeks, you saw improvements in training performances. You were generous with giving soldiers free leave as well. When Taehyung’s sister grew seriously ill, you comforted him and offered him ample leave. He cried happy tears. When his sister’s condition grew worse, you had her looked after by your private team of healers; they never had much to heal for you, anyway.

When you stepped into the infirmary again after spending circas avoiding it, you realized how much of a shithole it was—smelled like one, too. Immediately, you sourced more healers from the 4th city, expanded the building itself, and added ventilation, which had been years overdue.

Every soldier you met, you tried to remember their name so that the next time you saw them, you could call them by it. You also insisted that others called you by your first name, for General Kwang felt far too removed from who you were. You were merely Kwang Y/N, who happened to lead the army. Your soldiers were also more than their titles, so you called them by their names, too.

You tried to visit the 12th city as much as you could—to pay your respects to Hoseok and to occasionally facilitate the training program for adolescents. The cadets loved it when you rolled up to the castle gates in your fancy carriage. They would always crowd around you, telling you about their latest training and duels. You knew every one of their names, and if there was a face you didn’t recognize, you asked for an introduction.

Every so often, you would have a speech prepared for the cadets. You talked about your experience in the Training Corps, your hopes and dreams when you were their age—though most of them weren’t that much younger than you. You loved the bright looks in their eyes when they listened to you speak. It was as if somehow, your words were inspiring them. That, in turn, inspired you to visit them more often; they were the future of the army, after all.

But things weren’t always so perfect. Outwardly, you were the charitable General who single-handedly shifted the cutthroat army into a place of unity and understanding. You were on par with Guseul to some, though you couldn’t find that believable. You were simply human, not a legend who founded an entire nation. In the end, all of these good deeds came at your expense.

You lost sleep over brainstorming new ways to improve the army. When you weren’t fighting, approving battle plans and signing documents, you were memorizing your soldiers’ names and worrying over their wellbeing. Even when you were driven back to the 12th city to relax, the war was still on your mind. You couldn’t escape it.

What’s worse, your relationship with Jungkook took its first rocky turn.

He stood in front of your desk, arms crossed and frowning. You were sitting in your chair, looking up at him, pleading with him to be reasonable.

“It’s not setting a good example,” he told you, crossly. You’ve never seen him frown at you like that before. “I’m trying to help you,” he said. “As your Lieutenant General, I’m giving you advice.”

“But I can’t, Jungkook,” you said. “I can’t just kill...”

“Don’t you understand?” he said, running a frustrated hand up his hair. “You’re killing them anyway if you’re leaving them immobilized on a damn battlefield.”

“But they could still survive,” you countered desperately.

Jungkook gave you a look. “You know that’s not how the war works.”

He was right. He was so painfully right. But… “It’s… It’s my moral code, Jungkook. I just… I can’t kill someone because they were born in another nation that we happen to be at war with. What did they ever do to me? They’re only attacking me because they were ordered to. Because I’m wearing black and they’re wearing red. Please, can’t you understand?”

Jungkook scoffed, shaking his head. “I don’t think you understand,” he said, his voice cold. You never heard him speak like that; it made you feel so small, so stupid. “Our soldiers fight not because they were told to but because of passion. Because of hatred. Why do you think so many of us use light magic? They are motivated to march into battle, to kill the enemy because they believe those fucking helluvians are the scum of the earth. If you spare them in battle, if you show them mercy, your practices will bleed into your soldiers’ heads. They will begin to believe that these, these helluvians deserve to see kindness. They’re going to lose their passion, their hatred, their motivation. They will lose their will to fight. Do you understand?”

“But—”

“We have no choice but to continue to create propaganda that slanders the Solarian name. I would even argue that we must increase it to heighten morale.”

You shook your head, your hands gripping onto the edge of your desk. “But you don’t even believe in that sort of propaganda. Do you…?”

Jungkook gave you a long, hard look. He didn’t have to say anything for you to know his answer.

“But you told me,” you said. “You once told me that I don’t have to kill. That with my… my talent, I wouldn’t need to.”

Jungkook didn’t even flinch. “That was before you became the General of the Darlaean Army,” he said. “Before you had any influence.”

Before you had any influence… Of course when you were a nobody, you could do anything you wanted on the battlefield; no one was watching. But now that you were the General, expectations were different. There were always people watching. It was a good point. Yet… “I don’t know…” you whispered. “I really don’t know…”

He only sighed. “Sleep on it,” he said. “But not for too long. I’ll still be expecting you at dinner.”

You showed up to dinner that day, not having made up your mind. Then, you proceeded to sleep on it for many, many weeks. In the end, nothing was done. You continued to have mercy on the Solarians you met on the battlefield, which you knew disappointed Jungkook, but maybe you were weak. Maybe you were selfish. Maybe you were a coward. Even after all of those battles you’ve been on, you were never able to shake that fear out of you. So you couldn’t do it. And if your soldiers couldn’t do it either, you wouldn’t blame them. Jungkook never asked about it again.

More battles flew by. You saw mostly victories, a few losses and many casualties, but your soldiers were resilient. They absorbed the new charms you developed and deployed them on the battlefield with ease. They learned the formations you assigned to them and executed them flawlessly. When they were hurt, they took their generous leave, but always came back, looking to serve their nation once again. You worked hard to support their ambitions, though with the tides of the war turned so far over in the Darlaeans’ favor, there was more room to breathe, which equated to more free time.

Your dress collection began to grow. You spent odd hours in the night sketching your latest designs in your precious leather-bound notebooks and then masking them into gowns that were your exact size. You played around with fabrics: silk, velvet, cotton, lace, wool, satin. You experimented with different lengths and gowns for all sorts of occasions. The collection expanded so large that you had two other wardrobes built just to fit your chambers in the 12th city.

Your wardrobe was rather small in the 1st city, understandably so, so you often rotated your gowns when visiting the 12th. There was a different dress for every occasion, every dinner meeting, every royal event. When you weren’t fighting in the war and leading official meetings, you discarded the rather drab Darlaean uniform, which you didn’t dare change for any other than legacy reasons. You didn’t mean to have fashion attached to your name, but it was inevitable with the meticulous way you chose to dress yourself. Your clothes told your story—each one mindfully made and woven with your emotions.

The lavender gown with sage ribbons evoked a sense of nostalgia when you donned it, for it was one of the very first gowns you successfully created. It reminded you of your training program days—before you went to war, before your military titles and the whole nation knowing your name. Things were much simpler then, which had manifested itself in the gown; though beautiful and flowy, it was rather plain in design. Yet, the intricate colors resembling springtime sprigs of grass and pretty lilac blossoms made up for it.

The cotton garnet-hued dress tasted of blood—the aftereffects of your first victory as the Darlaean General. Inspired by the sea of red uniforms you faced and immobilized, the gown reeked of death, and yet just the faintest bit of triumph. The material was akin to the Solarian uniform: cotton, breathable, and perhaps a little shapeless. It had been a materialization of your fears on the battlefield—the fires, the blood, the Solarians. You never wore it, for it resembled the Solarian’s style and Jungkook wouldn’t approve, so it sat in the back of your wardrobes in the 12th city.

Then there was that sleek, silvery gown you’d crafted with soft tufts of fur around the neckline. This was an experimental one when you were playing around with the juxtaposition of contrasting materials. While you didn’t quite like the outcome, Jungkook did. He would always run his fingers over the fur, eyes glinting with longing. So, on one of his birthdays, you fashioned him a majestic cape made of similar material. He wore it everywhere, and especially to battle—something about enjoying the looks of horror on the Solarian’s faces when they realized he donned real animal fur.

The gowns that you did enjoy wearing, you often twirled around in them in front of your mirror, watching the hems flutter and the colors blend together like the wind. Sometimes, you had an audience—usually Jungkook and Hajin—who would give you second opinions on your designs. Though Hajin was never quite as interested in fashion as you—and occasionally Jungkook—she was still supportive. When she could, she asked you to configure her gowns for fancy events she was forced to attend as the crown princess. The budgets were glorious for the royal family, so you always enjoyed a worry-free day shopping for fabrics in the 3rd city, never checking the price. You spent countless hours fitting your newest creations on Hajin as her lady-in-waiting fussed over her hair and makeup.

One such event you diligently prepared Hajin for was the Harvest Ball, a celebration in the 12th city in honor of the fruitful harvest in the 4th. You remembered this simple moment so vividly. The ball had been so suffocating that you, Hajin and Jungkook managed to sneak out to the Sapphire Lake—after you shook the hands of the nobility and gave your scripted speech.

You could imagine how odd the three of you looked in your formal wear, sitting at the edge of the undulating waters, extravagant clothes soiled by the damp sand. You were wearing your beautiful navy dress that day, the silk one where the skirt rippled like the waves of the lake. An intricate silver circlet sat on your head, complementing the sparkling diamond around your neck. Hajin wore a deep purple chiffon dress you’d fashioned for her, a smooth velvet ribbon wrapped tightly around her waist, much to her disdain. She looked like a true princess with her silver tiara, ruby earrings and delicate necklace. Jungkook was always quite fashionable, and today was no different. He wore his usual slacks, which accompanied the silk and navy button-up you’d masked for the occasion. It was adorned with small sparkling jewels fit for a Lieutenant General. Draped over his shoulders was his fur cape, and tucked into his belt was his sword. He looked fiercely handsome, though you supposed he always did.

It was peaceful and quiet as the three of you caught your breath after the rather suffocating social scene. You could see the gentle puffs of air leave your mouths from the Circa Amethyst cold. Winter was shedding, though the chilliness seemed to linger. Hajin was the first to break the silence.

“Well, that was a show,” she said with a laugh. “I can’t believe there was a line to talk to you, Y/N!”

You couldn’t believe it yourself. “I thought the attention would’ve been on the 4th city healers,” you said. “They’re the ones we should be thanking for the bountiful harvest.”

“Ah, but food is guaranteed for the nobles,” Jungkook says. “They’re always more interested in the war.”

“I think they made that pretty clear today,” Hajin snorted. She sunk back on her elbows to stare far out into the lake as sand clung to her sleeves. “Do you guys remember when I begged you to explore the Blackwoods?”

“You’re not going to beg us again today, are you?” Jungkook asked. Though his tone was serious, he was smiling.

“Of course not!” Hajin said. “Come on, I’m trying to be nostalgic, here,” she teased, reaching in front of you to playfully shove Jungkook’s left shoulder. “We sure were rowdy.”

“We?” Jungkook said incredulously.

“Oh, shut up, Lieutenant High-Horse.”

“Remember when we used to skate on this lake?” you asked, trying to dissolve the play-fighting.

“Yeah, and Jungkook would eat shit every time.”

“I appreciate you needing to resurface that detail,” Jungkook bit back sarcastically.

“Oh, you’re very welcome.”

They were snarkier than normal today, perhaps paying homage to the sweet, old memories the three of you shared in the Training Corps. Jungkook and Hajin had always loved to bicker. Though with age, they seemed to have grown out of it. Tonight was special, then, for they had reverted to their old antics. A wave of nostalgia came over you.

“We were so young,” you said. It came out more wistfully than you imagined.

“We’re still pretty young,” Hajin said. “Youth is a mindset!” she giggled.

“Clearly,” Jungkook said.

“You wouldn’t understand, you grandpa,” Hajin retorted.

You had to laugh at that one. Jungkook shot you a look.

“Sorry!” you said, stifling another laugh. “I guess I was trying to say we’ve come so far.”

“That’s true,” Hajin said. “Who would’ve thought that I somehow befriended both the General and Lieutenant General?” She slumped into the sand, hands on her stomach as she stared up at the sky with a grin on her face. “I can just taste victory,” she said. “You two have led us straight to it, all right. The war will be over soon.” She sat up excitedly, pumping her fist in the air. “We’ll punish every last one of those tree huggers for ever messing with the Jung Dynasty!”

Jungkook entertained her. “Oh, really? What will you do once the war is over and every last one of the helluvians is punished?”

Hajin paused. “That’s a good question, Lieutenant,” she said. “I never really thought about it. But I can think about it now! Lemme see…” She tapped her finger on her chin. “I’ll start a Deviled Egg Ball every circa in my name. It shall be a national holiday. Let’s see… I’d also spend some more time with my father. And I do hope they’ll let me continue to wear the Darlaean uniform because I won’t be able to last two days in gowns like these. I’d also take volunteers on an expedition into the Blackwoods,” Hajin said, grinning. “I expect the two of you to come with me, by the way,” she added. “We’ll all be able to search for Guseul’s Hill!”

Jungkook looked at Hajin like she was crazy.

You were nicer. “Let’s discuss that when the war ends,” you said. “We promise.”

Jungkook shot you a look that said, We???

Hajin’s grin grew wider at both your words and Jungkook’s expression. “I’ll look forward to it!”

There was the familiar, yet ever-so-putrid stench of piss and blood. You saw dead bodies left and right—bodies of which were missing their heads or various limbs. Some bodies had already been burned to ash and would soon mix with the blood and soil for the next unit of soldiers to trample over. Your soldiers were crying into the charge—some cried in pain while others cried for mercy. It should’ve been a typical battle. Even with the few losses, you were supposed to emerge victorious. You were winning the war for fuck’s sake.

But in that moment, it felt like you lost everything.

Jungkook saw it at the same time you did.

She was lying on the ground, face up, her eyes empty yet wide open, a hole through her head.

First, there was the shock. It sizzled through your body and left it feeling scorched, sucked dry. Your legs threatened to give out. A distinct ringing in your ears came and never left.

Then, it was red. All you saw was red.

Was it rage? The blood? The fucking Solarian uniforms?

“Y/N!” Jungkook yelled.

You ran.

The terrain was rugged from the fallen, your feet stumbling over severed limbs and still bodies. You slipped several times, and once, your ankle twisted unnaturally, but there was no pain. It was as if you couldn’t feel anything. You didn’t stop running until you knelt over her, grasping her still warm hands, pretending like she was only in a deep sleep and she’d wake up any moment now.

“Hajin,” you whispered, squeezing her hands. “Hajin…”

Warm blood trickled down from your forehead. You had no idea how it got there. It sunk into your vision, tinting it red. You tasted iron on your tongue. The droplets dripped from your chin. You wondered where the wailing, the bawling, was coming from until you realized it was from you.

Yet you couldn’t stop screaming.

Fire hurtled at you. You only had half the mind to duck.

Someone was calling your name. He was grabbing your shoulder, trying to hoist you up. You fought him, staying on the ground, wrapping your arms around Hajin’s body, rocking back and forth and back and forth.

Another ball of fire careend your way.

You turned it into smoke with a desperate, clumsy wave of your hand.

The same someone mutilated your attacker, hot blood splattering everywhere, and yelled, “You’ll get yourself killed!”

You barely heard him.

“H-Hajin…”

You held her close to your heart, fingers tangling into her matted hair, hoping that she would wake up, that the blood spilling from her head was a stupid illusion. Red. It was all so red. Your bloodied hand reached up to touch your necklace.

Hajin… It’s so pretty….

Aw, don’t cry! Everyone in my family has accessory trinkets. My father’s is his crown. My mother’s was a bracelet. Mine’s an earring. And now yours is a necklace. Isn’t it beautiful? Dad thought a ring would be a better fit, but I argued against it. You like to fidget with your trinket, so I thought you’d lose it if it were a ring.

Your shaking hand tucked her dark hair behind her ear to reveal her trinket. The ruby earring had lost its shine as birthstones did when magic no longer coursed through the Darlaean’s veins. You couldn’t bear to look at it, so you let her short hair fall over her ear again.

Look! Look! A secret passageway! We have to explore it! How could this have been in my room all these years? How are we only finding this now? Maybe I should’ve taken up reading earlier. Oh, Y/N, we’ve got to go in there! It’ll be like the secret passageways in my summer home! Oh, what an adventure! I wonder what we’ll find. Today’s looking out to be adventurous after all. Come on!

W-Wait! Don’t you think it’ll be dangerous?

If it was dangerous, it wouldn’t be in my room.

W-What if this is how your aunt disappeared?

Then we can finally solve that mystery! I can always go by myself!

Blood continued to spill out from the wound between her eyebrows, drenching your hands and uniform in red. Red. You were so fucking sick of it.

It’s the Solarians. They’re murderers! The whole lot of them! Did you see the damage they’ve done in the infirmary? We’ve got to punish them, Y/N! We’ve got to get our vengeance! We’ll defeat those helluvians one day. We can’t keep letting them get away with killing our people, Y/N! Not after what happened to my poor mother! Oh, I miss her, Y/N. Isn’t it sad? She died on the battlefield when I was only four. I can’t remember much, but she had my trinket made for me. See?

You buried your face in her hair, and though blood smeared on your face, you didn’t care.

But guys, it can only go up from here! Seven battles in and… damn. I can’t even explain it! It’s like… It’s like I’m finally doing what I’ve always dreamed of doing! Every time I go out there, I’m raining hell on those stupid helluvians, knowing Mom’s watching me from somewhere, really fucking proud.

Guys, guys, guys… I just realized something! I swear, if I died now, I would be perfectly content.

A loud sob left your lips.

I think I’ve gotten everything I’ve wanted out of my life! I’ve killed some tree huggers, I’ve finally made it to the 1st city, and I even have two amazing bodyguards!

You failed her. You failed your best friend, the crown princess, and you failed her father, the Darlaean King, as well. What would he say? You didn’t want to imagine the horror-stricken look on his face.

The least you could do was bring her body back with you.

“What the fuck are you doing??”

You grabbed onto her arms, pain shooting up your leg as you stood up. You swore it hadn’t been there before. “I have to bring her back. I have to!” Your voice was so hoarse it was almost unrecognizable.

“Are you fucking insane?”

You ignored the voice. “Retreat!” you screamed. But that command was pointless, not without the violet smoke signal. The world was a blur. “Retreat!”

“Y/N!” The voice was angry now. “Don’t you dare order a retreat!”

“I have to!”

“Fuck, Y/N, you can’t! We’re so close—”

“Help!” you called to no one in particular. You began dragging her limp body towards the 1st city. Your leg was beginning to feel numb from the pain. “Please, someone! Help!”

“Whatever you do, don’t shoot the retreat signal! I’ll take care of things. Do you understand?” Your shoulders were grasped. “Either leave her or get out of here alive. Do you fucking understand?”

You were a sobbing mess, a mixture of blood, snot and tears all over your face. “Yes,” you said.

“I can’t cover for you,” he said.

“Jungkook…”

“She’s already dead, Y/N. There’s nothing we can do.”

You were crying so hard that you couldn’t breathe. But you continued to drag Hajin’s body across the battlefield. Your arms ached and your leg was threatening to give out, but you continued. You had to get her back. You owed it to the king. You owed it to her, too.

You were being targeted, but you lashed out at your attackers, immobilizing them by turning their uniforms into stone. You continued to move.

Someone grabbed Hajin’s legs and began helping you carry her across the field.

You didn’t register who he was until minutes later. The kind face, the tousled hair, the soldier, your comrade, your friend, the one who had a boxy smile. “Thank you,” you sobbed.

“I’m sorry,” Taehyung answered. “I’m sorry.”

You nodded, letting go of Hajin’s arm momentarily to throw another hex at a Solarian soldier who dared to get too close.

“Let’s bring her back home, all right?”

You won the battle. But it didn’t really matter.

The king fell to his knees when he saw his daughter’s still body.

And the entire world wept, it seemed, for Hajin was quite the beloved princess.

She was so young. Only 22.

I’d take volunteers on an expedition into the Blackwoods. I expect the two of you to come with me, by the way. We’ll all be able to search for Guseul’s Hill!

Let’s discuss that when the war ends. We promise.

I’ll look forward to it!

⨰ previous | series m.list | next

⨰ a/n: so.... another sad one! the next chapter is one of my favorites :') act II is the saddest act of the series, but don't worry! things get a lot more magical and romantic in the third. meanwhile, hang on and enjoy <3 the next update will be in a month (oct 25th, 2024)

please consider telling me your thoughts with a comment, an ask or a reblog :) i love hearing readers' impressions/rambles/predictions! if you want to join the taglist, send in a private message, ask, reply to this post or reblog with your request!

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graciereadshannigram · 2 days

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hey fam, my spreadsheet is FINALLY up to date so i am FINALLY getting back to the monthly rec lists! here's the cream of the crop from June :)

as a reminder: the ingredients for a five star rating typically (but not always!!) include some combination of a.) believable characterizations of both Hannibal and Will, b.) compelling plot and/or character arcs, and c.) high quality smut.

that being said, my judgment of the aforementioned ingredients is powered almost exclusively by vibes and as such, is incredibly subjective.

you can find past recs below:

February March April May

and if you have any recs of your own for me, PLEASE SHARE.

without further ado, let's go!

Bring Your Hunger by HigherMagic

Word Count: 22748 Summary: Having two Alphas is practically unheard of. Having three is damn near impossible. Having three like Hannibal, Duncan, and Nigel? All of them not only content to share, but genuinely enjoying each other's company? Well, Will doesn't believe in fate so much as luck, and he's more than willing to admit he's the luckiest Omega in the world.

Show, Don't Tell by StratsWrites, whiskeyandspite

Word Count: 3680 Summary: “The bedroom,” Hannibal murmured. “Do you have the patience to get there?” In answer, Hannibal gripped the backs of Will’s thighs and hoisted him up, settling him onto the kitchen island. After the fall... Will makes Hannibal wait. Just... to see what he would do.

I will read anything where Will purposefully drives Hannibal out of his mind.

to lie in wait for blood by its_the_ratdawg

Word Count: 1907 Summary: They had been sharing a bed since their first night on the run, ever since Will had climbed into bed next to Hannibal and curled around his broken body. In nearly a year that had passed since then, they’d always slept together unless they were enduring the climax of a particularly nasty fight. It had only happened three times. Tonight had nearly been the fourth. Hannibal laid there feeling as awake as he had ever been. Even with a fire built in the wood stove, the bed seemed cold with Will tucked stubbornly against the far side of the mattress, stoic as the cross on the wall above the bed. The pale moonlight streaming in through the window only made the illusion more severe. Just as Hannibal was considering drugging himself to sleep, Will shifted and his breath hitched. Hannibal waited for the rhythm of his breath to resume the slow, sleeping pace he was used to. He nearly jumped when instead he felt Will reach for him, his hand finding Hannibal’s waist. Wordlessly Will pulled Hannibal against him the way a bear might drag its prey to it with a single paw.

Somnophilia is really my thing and I loved this.

Batter My Heart by amarriageoftrueminds

Word Count: 2351 Summary: Hannibal/Will, Hannibal tricks Will into talking dirty. Will has trouble switching off. Hannibal doesn’t mind, and encourages Will to continue their conversations about serial killers while they’re having sex. About one serial killer in particular.

Fuck me, this was so hot.

Blaze by HotMolasses

Word Count: 3008 Summary: The thought slipped from his mind as a warm tingle spread across his skin. Will inhaled again, deeply, and the scent was so good, so very, very good. A soft moan even escaped his lips before he realized what he was scenting, though it wasn’t until he heard the feral, bestial growl in front of him that his brain finally made the full connection, and his eyes flew open in terror. Rut. Hannibal had indeed lost his control. Will’s eyes snapped up to Hannibal’s and he saw them dilating. Will’s throat grew dry and his heart leapt with fear. The Chesapeake Ripper was in rut, and it was because of him.

This author could write anything and I'd eat it up.

A Rising Tide by gleamingwholeanddeadly

Word Count: 3255 Summary: Sleepy, nostalgic talks in a bedroom the same colour as the ocean. Hannibal reflects on how close he feels to Will. Will wouldn't mind getting even closer. OR: Cuddles, unnecessarily florid banter, and graphic morning sex.

Oh I love this author so fucking much.

no amount of crying i can do for you by abbmyg

Word Count: 3763 Summary: Will is driving from Quantico to Hannibal's house in the middle of a blizzard. He never makes it home.

Umm, I'm tearing up thinking about this fic. It hurt. A lot.

i bet on losing dogs (you're my baby) by antiheroblake

Word Count: 2822 Summary: now, all hannibal has is winston

This made me sob. It hurt.

The most dangerous injuries don't leave scars by CulterVenatorius

Word Count: 909 Summary: When Hannibal hadn’t told Will about the encephalitis, thus preventing immediate treatment, he’d been more than aware of the possible outcomes. What he hadn’t been prepared for was that Will might change him and that one day, he might come to regret his decisions.

Ow ow ow ow OW.

Love Letters by Thiefbird

Word Count: 2039 Summary: After Will's funeral, Molly finds a box filled with relics from his past, and confronts the truth of her husband's history with Dr Lecter

WHUMP. This one hurt. In a good way.

Wrong by HotMolasses

Word Count: 4257 Summary: Will roughly rubbed his arm across his mouth again, trying to rub it off. Rub off the scent of Alana, after they’d kissed. After she’d kissed him. Or he’d kissed her? It was mutual. Until it wasn’t. Until Will breathed in her scent, so familiar, so Alpha, so…wrong. He’d pulled back forcibly, unable to hide the expression of revulsion on his face. “I…I need to go.” he said, sweeping his coat off the back of a chair on his way towards the door. “Lock up when you leave.” The weather was crap, and it probably wasn’t smart to drive in the snow while he was in pre-heat, but Will didn’t know what else to do. He needed to figure this out, he needed to talk to the only person who understood him. He needed to talk to Hannibal.

Another damn good reread.

Quid Pro Quo (Just friends helping friends) by QueerCannibal

Word Count: 4840 Summary: Will Graham isn't exactly going to therapy, and Hannibal Lecter isn't exactly his psychiatrist, which is probably why when their conversations turn to unorthodox topics neither of them are entirely guilty about it. Will Graham is stressed, and Hannibal Lecter--as Will's friend--wants nothing more than to help.

ACE HANNIBAL AND TRANS WILL. We love the representation.

a slick delicate sound by destroyedspectacularly

Word Count: 4345 Summary: Hannibal catches Will with one of his students (Matthew Brown) in his office, and takes the opportunity the stupid boy left behind, and finds out some fun new things about one Will Graham in the process. -- “Were you hoping he’d cross the line on his own? Do all the work for you?” “Well, he’s a good student. I know he’d love to do all the work,” Will shut his eyes in shame before he even finished his sentence, “That—that was inappropriate—should we go? I think we should go—”

I LOVE WHEN THEY FUCK IN WILL'S OFFICE ON HIS DESK.

The Porcelain Fawn by EarthsickWithoutYou

Word Count: 4976 Summary: Will falls asleep while visiting Hannibal one evening, and the good doctor carries his guest to bed, unable to resist watching him sleep. But when Will starts having one of his lusty nightmares, Hannibal can't hold his passionate obsession back any longer...

Oh noooo, not Will have a nightmare that turns into a sex dream that turns into actual sex!

Whiskey for One by CarnivalMirai

Word Count: 5364 Summary: Will is bribed by Beverly into driving her to a college party. When he loses his way to the bathroom, he bumps into the host’s father. And oh, is he beautiful. Or: Will fucks his classmate’s father

BEST FRIEND BEV. This probably would have gotten five stars regardless, but the ending was really the cherry on top.

Home and Dry by mokuyoubi

Word Count: 4329 Summary: Um, so, people on tumblr wanted Hannigram phone sex, dick pics, and Hannibal talking dirty, and this is what happened. Will's stuck in a car with Jack and Alana, and Hannibal starts sending him massively inappropriate texts. Tada!

Fuck me sideways, this was perfect.

You'll Go Blind by mokuyoubi

Word Count: 3650 Summary: Hannibal comes home to find Will masturbating in his bed, and it's time for them to finally follow through on the promise of all the texts they've been sending one another. I guess it could be read as a stand-alone, but it would help to read Home and Dry, first.

THE BUILD UP FROM PART ONE (above) MADE THIS SO GOOD.

howl by multifandom_fic_writer

Word Count: 7386 Summary: Prompt: When omegas go into heat, they go feral. Only an alpha strong enough to subdue them is worthy of being their mate. Will Graham has never found anyone to be worthy. After all, there is only one alpha Will wants to submit to – and he doesn’t even know their name.

This was just stupid hot. Okay. That's all.

Dead Men and Sinners by gleamingwholeanddeadly

Word Count: 4890 Summary: He looks at Hannibal and sees what he sees: himself glowing where he stands, blood-red and divine- a vengeful god of death. Protecting what's his. Hannibal steps toward him, and Will sees what's coming next, too. He drops the knife and catches Hannibal's face in his bloodied hands as he presses in to kiss him. The touch of his lips is searing hot against the blood cooling on Will’s skin, and so are his hands grasping at Will's waist. "Nothing," he whispers, kissing Will again intently before he continues, smearing blood between their mouths, "nothing is so moving as watching you act on your glorious wrath." A trespasser makes the mistake of attempting to blackmail Will and Hannibal, which is the last decision he makes. Hannibal shows Will just how pleased he is by his savage protectiveness. Pure filth written for Bottom Hannibal Day

God why is post murder sex so hot?

an ocean in my soul where the waters do not curve by gleamingwholeanddeadly

Word Count: 11540 Summary: n/a

This was fucking gorgeous and beautiful and sad and hopeful and. Wow.

bite down into me by gleamingandwholeanddeadly (something_safe), printersdeadly, printersdevils (tuesdaysgone)

Word Count: 21307 Summary: When Will is diagnosed with encephalitis and has to come cold turkey off his hormonal suppressants, Hannibal does everything within his power to ensure Will's comfort throughout the recovery process. But despite all Hannibal's careful planning, Will is never quite what he expects, and they quickly find themselves entangled in all manner of ways.

FUCK. This was so fucking good.

Keep Me Warm by nbcravenstag

Word Count: 5138 Summary: Will lets out a gasp, which is decidedly the worst thing he could do because Hannibal is on him in a second, pulling him close, tucking him against his chest, and rubbing his hands up and down Will’s body through the mountain of blankets. Will lets him do this, realizing now that Hannibal isn’t here in the present with him, but somewhere colder and less kind where there was blood in the snow and a devastating loss to come. _________________ Will arrives home after walking through a blizzard, fully expecting an angry husband, but instead finds a traumatized little boy, terrified of the cold and haunted by what he's already lost.

This hit all the right emotional notes for me. There's something so sweet about Hannibal being vulnerable with Will, wow. And Will knowing exactly how to react.

The Armor of Patroclus by nbcravenstag

Word Count: 8754 Summary: “You stay with me now, Will.” Hannibal urges, placing him back down so that he can continue compressions. He whispers please with each pump of his hands against Will’s chest and breathes life and love back into Will’s lungs. “You stay with me. You can do that, I know you can.” Hannibal pushes and pushes and begs and goes lightheaded with the lack of air, but he cannot stop because Will still won’t wake up. _________________ Hannibal finds himself on the beach and nearly loses Will along the way.

The angst here was perfect. Utterly perfect. Sometimes you just need some good good angst, you know?

Always In My Mind by swaggnation

Word Count: 19133 Summary: They had, in fact, not died together. And Will was ready to make it everyone’s (Hannibal’s) problem. Or, Three times Will tries to kill himself, and one time Hannibal answers for his sins.

OUCH OUCH OUCH but also this was so sweet and good and mmmmmmmf.

kalos kagathos by zipegs

Word Count: 8176 Summary: Will has always had issues with penetration, but with Hannibal, he discovers he wants to try. Thankfully, Hannibal’s cock is just the right size.

Oh! This had some really great trope inversion and that made it such a nice breath of fresh air.

Elysium by sourweather

Word Count: 2955 Summary: Hannibal finds Will dissociating in the shower. Again. Luckily, he has a creative technique for bringing him back to earth.

I need more showerhead orgasms!! Wish I had Hanni whispering in my ear like he was whispering in Will's. Fuck.

The Law of Meat by gleamingandwholeanddeadly (something_safe), printersdeadly, printersdevils (tuesdaysgone)

Word Count: 85396 Summary: Hannibal wakes alone in a hospital bed, barely able to move, and even less able to accept what Tattlecrime tells him - Will did not survive the fall.

THIS WAS BEAUTIFUL. Chapter 8 was absolutely gorgeous and so well done and so necessary for Will's character development wow.

#gracie reads hannigram #fic recs #hannigram fic recs #hannigram #hannigram recs #hannibal #will graham #hannibal lecter #murder husbands #nbc hannibal #mads mikkelsen #hannigram fic #hugh dancy

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