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whore-ibly-hot · 1 year

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Yan!Soldier/General x Fem!Reader

'His little bride.'

18+ Minors DNI

Warnings: Smut, power dynamics, mentions of sa, p-in-v sex, mentions of war and military, implied violence, threats, possible dub-con as reader does not know the full story behind our yan's goals, female and male genitalia, female reader, pet names.

(AN: Not me coming back from the grave to drop a horny fic and this disappear again. Gonna go eat some pumpkin roll.)

Part 2 here

The sound of papers shuffling and a heavy sigh pierces the usual quiet of General Fritz's office, which is only occasionally broken by you dusting or rearranging one of the many books on the various shelves that lined the room. It's been 3 weeks since the invasion of your small town of Cyril, and the few civilian homes not destroyed in the invasion have been turned into functioning barracks and homesteads for the troops that now occupy your town. While not ideal, the army Fritz serves aligns with the beliefs of your villages people much more than the opposition, and while they are still invaders, many believe them to be the lesser of two evils. You remain as quiet as you can as Fritz attends to his work with a furrowed brow.

General Fritz, while known for his excellence in military strategics and his translation skills, seems to be struggling with the morning's crossword puzzle. A man of 42, he has served in his countries army since he was just 15, leaving his family's small farm and quickly rising through the ranks. He's a scarred man, with many gashes, stubble, and hair that when not in public is rather unkempt. Despite the things he's seen, a kindness remains in his bespectacled eyes. He gives up on the crossword puzzle, allowing the paper to fall to his desk with a 'plop!'. You glance over at him, and approach.

"Sir, is there anything you need, you seem a bit, well, stressed." You say, trying not to impose but express concern. When the troops arrived, many men were recruited, and many girls had to seek jobs. Some had to turn to unsavory means to get by, but you were lucky, you supposed. You were scouted out to serve as a guide and servant for the general, to both give information and serve his needs. While the thought of serving a strange man, one much older than you at that had frightened you, he was nothing like the other soldiers you had seen. He was polite, careful not to scare you off, provided you with good quarters, and never laid hands on you. All in all, the situation would have been perfect, had you not missed your family's bakery from which you were taken. For reasons you didn't fully understand, he never wanted you to travel far beyond his estate and into town.

He sighs. "I am fine, my dear girl. Just dealing with some disputes at the border of the county. Nothing you should concern yourself with." He says. He looks up at you, his glasses reflecting the light of his desk lamp. "Would you mind drawing me a bath, my dear? It has been... quite the day, and I think I need some time to relax." You quickly nod, and scurry off to the master bedroom, entering the attached bathroom and beginning to fill the tub with hot water. After some time, Fritz enters, looking as though he is fighting the urge to ask a question. "I... I hate to ask this of you, and say no if at any point in my asking you are uncomfortable or find me uncouth, but-" He hesitates. "I am very tired, and am currently dealing with some rather serious pain in my legs. Past wounds, you know. Would you be offended if I asked for your assistance in bathing?" You blush a little, but a part of you knows he won't try anything. You have noticed he seems to be limping a little more than usual, his mobility decreasing. Plus, you can tell he's only asking because he must, as the look of utter shame on his face suggests this is the last thing he wished to ask of you. "Of course, sir." His breath hitches, but he nods. As he begins to remove his more civilian garb, as he did not wear his uniform on this day, you try to avert your gaze. Still, you catch a glimpse of his pronounced muscles, littered with the occasional scar or blemish. You swallow heavily.

He slides down into the tub, his tensed muscles visibly relaxing as he lets out a groan. "Hmm..." He glances at you. "It's okay to look now, my dear. Sorry to have upset you." You shake your head, as if to assure him that you aren't bothered. He looks at you softly as you go to grab a sponge, a small part of him disappointed that you won't be using your bare hands to lather soap onto him. He shakes this thought off quickly. 'Shame on you!' He scolds himself 'Thinking such thoughts about your sweet servant girl. God, I'm acting like a recruit visiting his first whorehouse'. He is disappointed in himself, but tries to rationalize it by being innocent. Perhaps he just wanted to feel your hands on him, for comfort, for something different. One of the things he likes most about you is your hands. He noticed them when you first were sent to his mansion, much more timid then. You shook his hand, and his large, calloused and veiny hands, rough from years of labor and fighting, practically trembled at the feeling of your soft ones. As he grew to know you better, he would watch as you worked, your delicate hands dusting a vase or folding a sheet. He quickly decided any hard labor around his home be delegated to cadets and privates, when they would make the occasional visit, and sometimes as a disciplinary action. He wanted to keep your hands like you, soft and warm.

"Sir?" Your voice snaps him out of his thoughts. "Uh- Yes?" He stammers, readjusting his glasses (which oddly enough he always kept on for bath time.). "I was wondering... if I may take a bath sometime soon?" You ask timidly, causing him to frown. "Have you not been able to take one?" He asks. He doesn't remember ever giving such a command, and he would never deny your basic needs. "Well, one of the privates told me that the recruits shower schedule is twice a week, and that I should probably adhere to that at your house." You explain. Fritz grimaces. Of course some recruit would find it funny to torment the General's beloved servant. The soldiers where allowed two showers a week, but you were no soldier. You were a servant. His Servant. His.

"No, my dear, you may bathe whenever you see fit, that rule only applies to my soldiers of low rank. I imagine that young recruit may have been trying to have a laugh at your expense." He huffs. "Please, if you ever see him at the estate again, alert me to him, alright?" You nod, a little put off. You've never seen Fritz truly mad at one of his soldiers, he doesn't even get grumpy often, but now... he's scowling, as if that cadet had come right up to him, spit on his boots, and insulted his mother.

His eyes suddenly flash with a different emotion, as a thought crosses his mind. He bites his lips, trying to keep away the thought, but it's too tempting. "Perhaps..." His hand grips the porcelain edge of the tub. "Perhaps it would be easier for you to bathe me properly, if you were closer." He mumbles, avoiding eye contact. You tilt your head. "What do you mean, sir?" You ask naively. "Well, I just think, you could get a better position to clean me if you were to join me, i-in this bath, I mean." You blush wildly, and he begins to stammer, coming up with reasons it's a good idea. "For one, it would help you to apply the pain balm to my leg, and-" He's out of breath. "And taking a bath now, together, would ensure you are free later if I should need you." He risks a glance up at your face, feeling his turn red to match your own. You swallow. "I... I suppose that would be okay, sir." You mumble. You can't imagine he would hurt you, or try to take advantage of you. If that were the case, you imagine he would have had his way with you already. Besides, you can't deny how you failed to avoid looking at him when his disrobed before his bath. "Just, look away while I undress, please." You say, beginning to undo the corset of your servants attire. "Of course, anything to protect a ladies modesty." He says, quickly using his free hand to shield his eyes.

You slip into the bath water, and he looks up as he hears the water splash upon your entrance. You both remain silent, and you bathe him gently. He holds back sighs of pleasure, as you have forgone the sponge, and now use your bare hands as he had dreamed of moments ago. "Sir?" you break the silence. He lets out a "Hmm?" In response, eyes still closed in satisfaction. "May I ask, why do you never let me go into town? I wish to see my family, and the bakery." You ask. He seems to tense a little, the veins in his arm more prominent. "Because I simply don't have the time to venture there with you right now." He explains. "Yes, but I grew up there! I'm fine to go by my own." You say, a little annoyed he seems to think you're some helpless maid. He lets out a long exhale, before sitting up a little. Even like this in the bath, he towers over you. "It's not you I'm worried about, little one. I'm sure in town, before me and my men arrived, you could hold your own. But you couldn't against my soldiers, and-" He hesitates to tell you this, a part of him not wanting to scare you. "I don't trust half of them around a sweet thing like you." He sighs. You furrow your brows, your face upset. "You mean, like?" You can't bring yourself to say it. He nods. "I prevent it in every way I can, for all women. I do not allow it, but I cannot be everywhere, and the leaders above me do not permit me to dismiss a single man for a transgression like that. We need all the men you can get for the war." He makes a bold move, to cup your cheek. "But, rest assured, I won't let a single one of them lay hands on you. I just fear something could happen outside of my estate, that I could not control." You gulp at the notion, and nod. He sees the sorrow on your face, and strokes your cheek once more. "I will try to take a small holiday, a day or two perhaps, and I will take you to see them, alright?" He feels his heart speed up when he sees the light return to your eyes.

"Oh! Thank you, sir!" You look as if you could cry. He smiles and nods. "I, I must confess, I hope to go sooner rather than alter, I had wished to speak to your father." He says. "About what?" You feel a little fear knaw at you, and you gasp. "Wait, sir, no! He's much to old to fight, and-" Fritz cuts you off with both hands on your shoulder. "No, my dear, no. I'm not going to draft your poor father, do not worry. I would not want to do anything that would worry you so much." He coos, then avoids eye contact again. "I had wished to speak to him. The last time we spoke, we made a deal that you were to work for me as a servant girl, but..." You nod for him to continue. "I have found that house chores and labor do not suit you." You frown at his words. Had you not been doing a good enough job. "I'm sorry, sir, if I've not been performing well, please don't fire me. My family needs the money." He seems shocked once again, and laughs awkwardly. "God, I do seem to be bad at saying what I mean, don't I?" He shakes his head. "I mean that I think such things are below you. I... I should like to take you as my bride, if you and he should permit it." Your eyes widen. You hadn't expected that. What would he have you do as his bride? He senses your nervousness, and continues. "I assure you, it can have as much or as little intimacy as you wish. You needn't even act as a proper wife to me, I just-" He seems to be struggling to explain. "I just want you to be safe, and comfortable, a-as you have made me feel since you began to serve me." You feel your heart flutter at his words. "Since you arrived, you've been so sweet. Doting on me, caring for me, helping me with the daily crosswords." You laugh a little, and he smiles. "I want nothing more than to ensure that I get to enjoy that everday, and more importantly," a slightly darker tone ebbs its way into his voice. "I want to ensure that no other man does." You're a bit put off by the shift, but only nod.

"I should like to, sir." His head snaps up, his mouth hanging open slightly. "I'll admit, I always wanted to live in a fancy house like this, and the company isn't half bad either." You admit, shyly looking up at him. He is elated, his form almost trembling. "Do you mean it? Truly? You wish to accept my proposal?" He gasps. You nod. He lunges forward to hug you, causing the water to surge forward, but stops just short of you, remembering your nude form rests below the soapy water, as does his. "Ah, um." He coughs awkwardly. "I must ask, if we are to marry, and you do enjoy my company, would you be okay with the typically romantic things? I know people usually court first, but seeing as we've spent all this time together already." He says. You think. "Like kissing, and holding each other?" You ask. "Yes, like that sort of thing." He affirms. You nod. "I'm fine with trying it, but I need to tell you something." He nods for you to go on.

"I'm sure you know, we are a little reserved and conservative in our town. As a traveling man, and a general, I'm sure you have had your share of, um, intimate encounters. I was always told to wait, however, and I may not be what you are used to." You look at the water, trying to fight the insecurity gnawing at your heart. He only shakes his head quickly. "No, no, my darling girl! How could you ever be anything but perfect to me?" He asks, caressing your shoulder blade with his thumb. "I would be honored, if you would have me, to teach you about the more, intimate affairs of marriage and courting." He says. "I must admit, I'm afraid that I wouldn't be enough to satisfy you as a man, or a husband." He confesses. You gasp, and cup his face. "Why, sir?" You implore him to confide in you. "My dear, you are a mere twenty-three years of age, and I am forty-two. I'm practically twice your age. Besides being an old man, you had to help me with this blasted leg into the tub. I'm practically a cripple..." His insecurities begin to flow out as he confesses. You gently tuck your head against his shoulder. "No, sir. You are enough for me. You are a general, and a kind man. You have always treated me with respect. If I didn't think you were enough, I wouldn't have said yes to marrying you, would I?" He nods reluctantly. "No, you wouldn't have. You've always been a smart girl." He admits. "I'm willing to learn, as long as you show me, sir." You whisper.

He blushes, but takes this as a sign. "Well, seeing as we are due to wed, I don't see the harm in teaching you a few things now..." He says, pushing forward a little so your smaller frame is up against the slanted back wall of the tub. "Are you alright with this, you may tell me at any time if you want to stop." He says. You nod. "Words, my dear, please. I want to hear that you understand." He pushes. "I understand, sir." You say. He shakes his head as he plans a kiss on your forehead. "Call me Fritz, my little bride." He coos. "And since you are to be my bride, I hope you won't mind showing me what's been hiding under that uniform I gave you?" He asks. You blush, but slide a little further up the tub, parting your thighs just a touch, so he can see the bush of hair between them. "I haven't shaved, sorry." You say, a little embarrassed. He only chuckles, and shakes his head. "My dear, I've gone months without a shower, and shared a restroom and barrack with 27 other men. A little hair won't scare me off." He looks longingly. "Besides, it's what's under it I'm interested in." His hand suddenly comes to your inner thigh, the sensitive touch making you gasp. You've never been touched up there, much less by a man so strong. One of his large, calloused fingers comes to part your lips, exposing to your future husband your dripping, virgin holes. He lets out a wanton sigh at the sight.

"So beautiful, and untouched?" He asks. You gulp, and nod. "It is my honor to be the first and last man to pleasure your sweet little sex." He says. He traces that finger up and down you're folds, making sure you are properly teased, and getting a feel for you. "So wet, and not just from the bathwater, it seems." He whispers. "Is this how you planned to lose your purity? To a man twice your age, and an invading military officer, no less?" You blush in shame. "I didn't think of the specifics, just... just wanted you to have it, sir..." You whine. His grins grows, and he lets out a groan as he latches his lips to your neck. He licks and kisses up and down your neck, until he finds a spot that makes you let out a beautiful whine, causing him to nip at it. "Do you think your father would be less likely to accept my proposal if he noticed you covered in marks of love from me?" Fritz asks, and you only giggle a little. He finger wanders up to touch the pearl of your sex, making you gasp. "Oh, Fritz... what are you doing?" You ask. "Just finding your pearl, my dear. I want you to cum at least once before I take your virginity. I want to please you, my darling girl." He kisses your cheek, before he presses another finger against your pearl. He rubs in soft, slow circles, trying a few different angles before he finds one that pleases you, which he discerns from the moans you let out. "Fritz, mm-" You moan. You can feel a slow heat spreading, as something in you builds. "Please, a little faster?" You ask. He tuts, and looks at you. "Can't you be patient?" He teases. "No, wanna finish..." You mumble. "Want you in me, I-I wanna be your little wife." He almost chokes at your pleas, the words going straight to his cock. He didn't think you could arouse him even further, but you always did exceed his expectations. He quickens the pace, and you can feel your orgasm approaching. "Yes, Fritz, Yes. Please, make me cum." You beg. "You want to cum, cum so I'll put my manhood into you? Want me to make you a proper little wife for me?" He edges you, and as you nod and agree profusely, you feel that wave wash over you. Your pussy convulses around nothing, as you let out a whine that sounds like music to him. This beats his visits to the royal opera a hundred times over.

As you pant, coming down from your high, Fritz holds you in your place, rising a little out of the water himself. You blush, as his erect manhood becomes visible. He's well groomed, and while the tip isn't pronounced, there's a curve to it that makes your mouth water. "Well, do I seem up to your standards, my love?" He asks. "More than that, Fritz. You're so pretty..." While it seems like nothing to you, these words strike him hard. He's never been called pretty before, and hearing it from your soft lips wipes the lewd grin off his face, replacing it with momentary shock. He pulls himself to you, his chapped lips colliding with your soft ones. You squeak, but melt into it. He tastes like earl grey tea and the occasional cigars he would smoke, but only when stressed. You both gasp as he pulls away, needing air. He places many small kisses on your face, making you smile as you look up at him. "My sweet, sweet girl. Always so kind to this old man..." He murmurs. As he does, he rolls his hips forward a little, allowing the underside of his manhood to rub against the length of your sex. "I'm going to be gentle, alright? It might hurt a little, especially with me being quite a bit larger than you. But I promise to take it at your pace, alright?" He asks, his hands resting gently on your waist. You nod, and feel his hard tip prod a few times at your aroused pearl, before moving down to line up with your entrance. He warns you a little, before gently pushing the tip in. You wince, and he continues to soothingly rub your waist with his thumbs. He moves himself out, then rolls his hips back in, a little deeper with each thrust. It hurts, but the relaxing warm water helps, and it's not as bad as you thought it would be. "Feels okay, darling?" He asks. "Yes..." You respond, focusing on the feeling of him inside you. As he continues, the pain subsides, and he begins to quicken the pace when he tells you this.

"God, Fritz. You're big, s-so big..." You moan, his hips causing your ass to bounce back and forth off the wall of the tub. "I' feel 'mazing." He huffs. "So tight, and warm. My girl, letting me take you like this, getting you ready for our wedding night." He feels himself harden even further at the thought. "Y'know, I think it'd be a shame not to share how sweet you are, how caring." He says, his hips now pounding at your cervix. "W-what?" You ask. He had made it clear earlier he didn't want to share, so despite the pleasure you are confused. "Saying you'll make a good wife, but I think you'd make a better mother." He moans. You gasp at the thought. "All swollen with my baby, my child. Letting me care for you for once, instead of helping me walk cause of my leg, I'd get to help you around..." He thrusts grow more erratic at the idea, and you feel yourself about to climax once more. "Let me, my love, please. Let me fill you with my seed, my children. Let your fiance make you a mommy..." He begs. Just as you shout an agreement, you feel yourself convulse around him, causing his breath to hitch. He groans. "God, gonna finish to now, going to give you my babies..." He shouts. You feel a warmth flood you, as he sprays hot, white ropes of cum into your womb. You both pant, taking quite some time to recover.

Being the strong man he is, he bounces back quite quickly, while you are so tired you can barely move. "I'm sorry, my love." He coos. "Perhaps I was a bit rough for your first time..." You shake your head. "Mmm, no. I-I felt good, just, I'm just tired." You yawn. He chuckles. He cleans himself, and you, before draining the tub. He grabs both of your clothes as he carries you past your servants quarters, and into his room. Helping you to redress in your undergarments, he lays you down. You sigh as your body melts into the luxury sheets. He sits beside you, gently stroking your face. "Get some rest, my little bride." He whispers, before departing back to his office. He heads to the front door, and picks up a letter dropped off from the courier. Inside the envelope is your father's response, from a proposal sent several days ago by Fritz. Once again, though this was his third and final time asking, your father once again denied your hand in marriage to Fritz, saying he would never marry his precious girl to an invader. Fritz grimaces, as he had not wanted it to come to this. Sighing, he writes two more letters in response. One to your father, stating his intent to take your hand either way, and another to his second-in-command, ordering a man to be jailed for treason and defying military orders. The first letter reads as follows.

Dear sir,

As you are well aware, this is the third time you have rejected to allow me to take your daughters hand in marriage. While i understand your hesitation, I do what I do only to provide her a safe, comfortable life, which I do not believe you could have provided her, in your town which my men overtook in merely three hours. I could not imagine if a man worse than I had set his sights on her instead. Rest assured, that in light of your soon-to-be imprisonment, I will care for her. She has developed a reciprocation of my feelings, and despite your refusal to wed her to me, as I write this she lays in my bed, beginning to bear my child. I wish that you had been understanding, and done what was best for your daughter. Now, she will marry happily, but have no father, and the blame lies only on you.

-Fritz, General of the Northern King's forces.

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ricolaviecher · 2 months

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Blurt it out

This is a Tim Bradford x reader fanfiction I had an idea for and just had to write it down. English is not my first language so there could be a few mistakes.

I hope everyone who reads this enjoys it. If anyone has feedback, I am open for it. <3

Summary: It takes place in 4x1. That's the summary.

The next fanfic I will post will be a Chenford one and I am currently working on other stuff.

If anyone has requests or ideas what I could write just send it in bc I ran out of ideas.

She stared at the display, unable to look away. She didn’t really want to see what was happening, but she couldn’t just look away, and risk to oversee any detail that could help them. As a cop, she was trained to pay attention.

Next to her stood all the other people. Sergeant Grey, John Nolan, Lucy Chen, Tim Bradford, and of course Nyla Harper. She could see Lucy wiping a tear from her cheek, as well as Nyla. But she… she didn’t feel anything. There was not a single emotion in her.

(Y/N) winced, as she saw a shot being fired on the screen. Fuck. The last glimmer of hope was now gone. Sergeant Grey turned the video back.

“There. He flinched. As if Jackson scratched him or something like that”, he said.

“He knew he wouldn’t have a chance and wanted to give us something to work with. There would be DNA under is fingernails.” Lucy’s voice broke.

“I’ll tell the forensics so they can take a look at it. In the meanwhile, I want you all to go home and take some rest. I’ll let you call when we have some new information.” The Sergeant’s voice wasn’t as authoritarian than usually.

“I want to help. I can’t just sit here and do nothing! It was our colleague who got killed! Our friend! And Angela was kidnapped! We need to find out where La Fiera is!” Lucy felt more than (Y/N). You could hear it because of her breaking voice.

“It was an order, Officer Chen. Go home. Like I said, I’ll have you called in if there is any more information that there is now.”

“With all due respect Sir, but that’s my fiancée and I won’t go home until I know where she is and if the baby is healthy. I won’t go home until my pregnant wife-to-be is home with me again.” (Y/N) had completely forgotten that Wesley was here too. It was just logical; his fiancée was missing and he wouldn’t let them do their job without keeping him updated.

(Y/N) felt tears roll over her cheeks. She had just seen one of her best friends being killed. It didn’t feel real. Like she was only watching a movie and didn’t have any relation to the characters. Why couldn’t she feel more? She wanted to be mad, she wanted to be able to scream, to openly cry, but all she could was feel the silent tears rolling down her face.

She could feel a hand on her shoulder. Tim.

“You should go home. This case isn’t on us. At least not in the moment. Get some rest.”

Tim looked at her with worried eyes. Not really surprising. It was in the middle of the night. Her best friend just died – no, got killed - and she stood in the middle of the police department, crying because she didn’t know what to do. How she could get up in the next days.

“Come on.” She let Tim lead her out the office.

“I… I can’t go home. What if something happens? I… I’ll just stay here. This is the safest place right now.”

Tim looked at her… concerned. He often dealt with this kind of emergency, but Tim had never before dealt with this with his friends. Of course, he has already lost partners in the job but not like this.

“You can come with me. It would also be easier if they call us in to help them with something. Your apartment has a longer way to the department.” (Y/N) stared at him with wide eyes.

“Really? I… I don’t want to impose and you don’t feel too well either I think… your… your best friend just got kidnapped.” She really didn’t want to be an inconvenience. And what would be the looks she would get if anyone found out she stayed at her boss’ house for over the night even though they won’t do anything else that sleeping. In separate rooms.

“You won’t. Are you hungry? We didn’t really eat as the wedding didn’t take place so…?”

“I am hungry but I honestly don’t know if I can keep anything down now.” (Y/N) tried to dry her face from the tears, that finally stopped flowing.

“We can get some take-out and we try to eat and if not, we have the left-overs for tomorrow. Sounds like a plan?” (Y/N) nodded.

“Yes, that’s great. Thank you.” They slowly went to Tim’s car. The blisters the high heels gave her feet were long forgotten. They were her smallest problem right now. Somehow the physical pain even made her feel better.

They only stopped once to get the food. Quickly they decided to take Pizza, something they loved, and could easily be eaten the next day if there were some leftovers.

Tim’s house was… (Y/N) didn’t know what to say. It… fit him. Modern, but not much decoration. She took place at the table, the dress she wore was a bit disturbing.

Shit… She forgot that she doesn’t have any other clothes with her. She only had her dress, and she didn’t really want to sleep in it. It reminded her of all the things that happened today.

“Ehm… Tim?” He stopped on his way to get 2 plates for the pizza.

“Yes? Is everything ok?” She nodded and then shook her head.

“I don’t have any clothes with me. Do you think we could get some clothes from my place?”

Tim looked at her as if she was crazy. She could somehow understand it. Her house wasn’t exactly next door. They would have to drive at least 30 minutes.

“You know that it is a long way? Would you be ok if I gave you a shirt of mine and I still have joggers from Angela when she had an argument with Wesley and came here? I know it would be much too big but if you just slept here, I think it would work?” He looked at her with a questioning look and she nodded.

Why not? For now, it seemed like the best solution. Would it be unprofessional? Yes. Would everyone judge her if they saw her? Definitely. But right now, she had bigger problems. Jackson died. Angela got kidnapped. She kind of lost two of her best friends today.

Tim went to, which (Y/N) assumed, was his bedroom. Only a minute later he came back, a bundle of clothes in his arms.

“Here. You can go change in the bathroom. The first door on the left side.” He pointed in the direction he just came from.

“Thank you. Really.” Tim smiled. It was an exhausted but not a forced one.

“No problem at all.”

(Y/N) went to the bathroom. It was definitely more modern than her own. The shower! Wow. She would give everything just to have a hot shower.

“Tim? Could I take a short shower?” Her voice sounded weak. She didn’t have the energy to shout through the whole apartment, she just had to hope that Tim would have heard her.

“Yes. I’ll make the pizza into the oven so it doesn’t get cold, ok?”

“Thanks.”

(Y/N) didn’t remember when the last time was, that she had a proper shower, without having to stress herself because she needed to go to work. Still, she couldn’t enjoy the hot water, that was running over her body.

Suddenly, she was overwhelmed by emotions. The tears began to slow freely. She wasn’t crying as silently as she did before. Now she could only hope that Tim couldn’t hear her. She sank to the floor; the cold tiles on her back welt like ice cubes in contrast to the hot water.

She buried her face in her hands. Her brain finally realized it. Her friend was dead. Angela got kidnapped. They didn’t know what La Fiera was going to do to her. To her unborn baby. Did Angela already know that Jackson got killed?

A gentle knock was on the door.

“Are you ok, (Y/N)?” She tried to wipe away the tears. Stupid; she was in a shower.

“Yes. I’m ok.” She wasn’t and she knew that Tim could hear it. It was embarrassing. Her boss heard her cry. They weren’t even real friends. She tells him much about her life when they were on shift, but he was always a bit… reserved. They were acquaintances but nothing more.

(Y/N) was glad that Tim didn’t pry any further and she continued to sob freely. She heard how the door opened. Tim didn’t just come into the bathroom, did he? Luckily, the steam already covered the glass of the shower so he couldn’t properly see her.

He opened the door to the shower and switched off the shower. He handed her a bathrobe, which she slipped into. It was made out of very soft material. He gently pulled her out of the shower… and hugged her. A real hug. Not a hug like the ones you give when saying hello or goodbye… no… he held her.

(Y/N) didn’t know when it was the last time, she was hugged like that. She cried freely into Tim’s shirt. Right now, she wasn’t embarrassed by it. She didn’t even care about it a little bit. She was just thankful to be held.

After a few minutes, Tim led her to the living room, where he sat her on the couch, giving her a warm blanket he covered her with. Then he just sat down next to her, and continued to hold her. He didn’t say anything; didn’t ask questions. And it was exactly what (Y/N) needed at the moment.

When she finally started to calm down a bit, she wiped away her tears with her hands.

“Thank you, Tim.” Her voice trembled and sounded hoarse. If she still had her Make-up on, her face would have been black from the mascara by now.

“Nothing to thank me. It’s what a friend does.” Tim smiled weakly at her. Friends. He called them friends. She probably wouldn’t say that, but in the moment, she was thankful for it as it made the situation a bit less weird.

“I should probably get changed.” (Y/N) suddenly became aware that she wasn’t wearing anything under the bathrobe.

“Ok. Should I warm up the food? I am really hungry.” Tim looked at er with a questioning look.

“Uhm… yes… that would be great. Again, thank you.” (Y/N) hurried to the bathroom where the clothes Tim led her were still lying on the floor.

Just as she wanted to change into the clothes, Tim called her name.

“Come on we have to go! Grey has new information about Angela!” Instead of changing into the comfortable clothes, she just again slipped into her dress from the evening. Her hair was still wet but it didn’t matter at the moment.

When she stepped into the kitchen, she couldn’t help but notice Tim’s gaze at her. He scratched his neck, something she knew he did when he felt uncomfortable or nervous which has only happened once before.

“Ehm… Your… zipper isn’t properly… closed.”

Fuck! This didn’t just happen. Half of her chest was exposed… How could she not have noticed that before?! She already felt uncomfortable enough in this situation. Why did this have to happen exactly today. (Y/N) felt like she was about to cry.

She tried to close the zipper but it jammed.

“Wait let me do this.” As if the situation couldn’t get more embarrassing now her boss offered to close the zipper of her dress? If it was at least a zipper at the back of the dress but no. Why did she choose that dress today?

While Tim closed the zipper, (Y/N) only stared at the ceiling, unable to look at him.

“Ok. All done. Let’s go.” She ran to the car, as fast as it was possible in high heels. She slumped into the passenger’s seat.

“Here. Drink.” (Y/N) eyed Tim’s hand as he gave her a can of red bull.

“Oh wow. Thanks.” She was lucky he remembered to pack a few energy drinks in the back of the car, as they both were sleep deprived. And she herself was glad she packed her back with make up for the wedding, which was still in it.

She put the light on and put a bit of her make up on, so it wasn’t as obvious as before that she had cried before.

“You really do your make up now? In a driving car? Nobody is going to be interested in how you look. We have bigger problems at the moment.” (Y/N) glared at him.

Tim had been married. Didn’t he know doing make up is important for a woman? She always found it calming to do make up. It was soothing to do the precise work. Not being able to make mistakes especially not in a stressful situation.

***

Only a few minutes later they arrived at the police department. They hurried to the Sergeant’s office. Nolan, Chen, and Nyla were already there. The only one missing was Wesley.

“Thank you for coming. Wesley’s not here. He is already in Guatemala. Lokks like he had an informer who helped him find La Fiera aka Sandra de la Cruz. We don’t know what’s going to happen. La Fiera is mentally instable especially after what happened to her son. I can’t officially send anyone to Guatemala.” Grey shot them a meaningful look.

“So, we’ll just have to wait what Wesley can do? He doesn’t have anyone there! He is an attorney! He has no chance against Sandra de la Cruz!” Nolan made a point there.

“I said I can’t officially send you there. But if I don’t know what you are going to do, I can’t prevent you from doing whatever you plan to.”

Now it was Tim speaking: “Conference room. Now. Everyone but Grey.”

***

Only an hour later everything was planned. They all were flying to Guatemala. (Y/N) has never been flying with a helicopter before, what makes her really nervous.

Next to her, sat Tim and on the opposite side were Lucy and John sat. Nyla was in the front with the pilot and in the back were two more seats for Angela and Wesley.

(Y/N) drummed her fingers on her thigh, squeezing her eyes shut as the chopper took off. She has changed into her police uniform, as the evening gown wouldn’t have been really practical for a long flight to Guatemala and probably a few shootouts.

She felt a hand on her fingers which where still drumming a rhythm. Tim’s.

“You ok, (Y/L/N)?” He was into full police mode. There wasn’t any space for kind words. They were about to free Angela and maybe even Wesley. If anyone wasn’t concentrated or anxious, they shouldn’t have come with them. It would have been irresponsible.

“I’m fine, Bradford.” Her voice didn’t sound as strong as she hoped, but everyone seemed to buy it for now.

After they finally landed, Harper, Nolan and Bradford were busy preparing the drone, while Lucy and (Y/N) looked around to make sure that they were save for now. They weren’t really near the house, but they didn’t know how careful La Fiera was.

It was already early in the morning. No one has slept in the last 24 hours, but they were so hyped up by adrenaline and energy drinks, that they barely felt how tired they were.

“Have you eaten anything in the last few hours”, asked Lucy at some point.

“A protein bar at the station but I not more. Didn’t have appetite after… after what happened yesterday. And you? Have you even been home?” (Y/N) could see that Lucy was exhausted and that she cried before. Her eyes were red and swollen.

“No. I couldn’t. I told Tamara I needed to do overtime but I don’t think she bought it. I stayed at the department and slept on a chair in the conference room. I just wasn’t able to go home to see Jackson’s stuff lying everywhere in the apartment. Where you at home? You still were in you dress when you came after Grey called you.” Lucy looked at her for a short time but not long as they still had to concentrate on La Fiera’s workers.

(Y/N) shook her head while saying: “I couldn’t go home either. Didn’t want to be alone after what happened. Tim offered me to sleep at his place.”

“Tim? Tim Bradford? Our boss Timothy Bradford?” Lucy looked really surprised but (Y/N) couldn’t blame her. She nodded.

“Yepp. He was really kind. I was very… upset earlier, so I was very thankful.”

Her friend still looked a bit shocked.

“Wow… that’s… strange. But you don’t have… feelings… for him… right?” (Y/N) laughed.

“God, no. I have to admit it had been a bit strange at the beginning but he was really understanding. He even bought pizza which is now probably cold.”

Even though she laughed, she wasn’t sure if the “feelings-theory” was that wrong. Did she have feelings for Tim? She has often questioned that before.

Every time he touched her it felt… special. She felt like her stomach felt full of butterflies. But she can’t have feelings for him, right? He was her boss and Lucy had to break up with Nolan because he had been also a rookie and not even her boss.

Damn it, why does she always have feelings for guys she cannot have. She still knows how it felt seeing Tim on her side when she woke up from surgery after she was involved in a knife attack. He said he didn’t stay in hospital all night, but she knew he was lying as he still wore the same clothes as the day before.

“Ok, the drone is ready”, Lucy and (Y/N) heard over the radio. They ran back to Bradford, Nolan and Harper. The display, that Nyla was holding, showed everything that was to see with the drone’s camera.

“Ok, they put Wesley and Angela in the trucks. It looks like she is in labor. Ok, that’s what we wanted. No. No! They drive them separated! Nolan, (Y/LN). You follow Wesley. Bradford, Chen and I, we follow Lopez to the hospital. Go!”

***

Like they were told, John and (Y/N) followed Wesley. It looked like there was only one person with him, but they couldn’t know for sure.

As (Y/N) and John followed the truck carrying Wesley, the tension in the air was palpable. Every second felt like an eternity as they carefully maintained their distance, making sure not to lose sight of the vehicle but also not to arouse suspicion. The city's neon lights flickered past, casting an eerie glow on the damp streets.

"(Y/N), are you okay?" John asked, his voice steady but concerned.

(Y/N) nodded, gripping the steering wheel tightly. "I'm fine, Nolan. Just... focused."

John glanced at her, noticing the tightness around her eyes. He knew what it felt like to be on edge, especially after a traumatic event. "We're going to get them back. Both Wesley and Angela. We just have to stay sharp."

(Y/N) appreciated his words but couldn't shake the gnawing anxiety in her stomach. She forced herself to stay in the moment, her training kicking in as she scanned the surroundings for any signs of any danger.

The truck turned into an industrial area, and (Y/N) signaled to John. "We need to be ready for anything.”

When they arrived at some kind of farm, the vehicle stopped, the person in the truck stepped out, revealing a silhouette in the bright sunlight. John and (Y/N) exchanged a glance and nodded, both ready to move.

"We need to get closer," (Y/N) whispered as they slipped out of their vehicle and crept towards the warehouse, using the shadows of the trees for cover.

They could see how Wesley got pulled out of the car, a weapon held to the side of his head.

“Faster! I don’t have the time for your games!” Just when Nolan and (Y/N) noticed that the man was about to shoot, they stepped forward.

“Drop the weapon! Now!” Suddenly, a shot rang out, and (Y/N) felt a sharp pain in her side. She gasped, stumbling and clutching her wound as she fell to the ground. John immediately dropped to her side, his eyes wide with fear and determination.

“(Y/N)! Stay with me," John urged, his hands shaking as he applied pressure to her wound. "We need backup! Officer down, officer down!" he called into his radio.

(Y/N)'s vision blurred, but she forced herself to stay conscious. "John... you need to... get Wesley..."

“I know. He is just over there. It’s going to be ok. Just stay with me.

Back at the hospital, Tim Bradford, Lucy Chen, and Nyla Harper were on high alert, they already found Angela and were on their way to the chopper that should bring them back to LA. Tim's mind was racing, worry etched across his face. He couldn't shake the uneasy feeling in his gut, and it only intensified when he heard Nolan’s frantic call over the radio.

"Officer down. (Y/N) has been shot. We need immediate medical assistance!"

Tim's heart skipped a beat. He glanced at Lucy, who looked equally horrified, which wasn’t surprising as (Y/N) was her best friend. Lucy has already lost Jackson, just yesterday, she couldn’t bear to lose (Y/N) now too.

When they all arrived at the chopper, they found John – who already was in the chopper - desperately trying to keep (Y/N) conscious. The sight of her, pale and bleeding, hit Bradford like a train. He rushed to her side, his hands trembling as he took over from John.

"(Y/N), hang on. You're going to be okay," Tim said, his voice cracking. He couldn't hide the emotion in his eyes. "Stay with me."

She looked up at him, her vision fading but her heart swelling at his presence. "Tim... I..."

"Don't talk," Tim interrupted, his voice choked with emotion. "Save your strength. We are on our way to the hospital.”

Thanks to his time in the army, he knew how to handle shooting wounds. He pressed a shirt – he assumed it was Nolan’s – to the wound, wincing as (Y/N) cried out in pain.

“I am so, so sorry.” Tim had never felt something like that when someone got shot. Not even when he was the one shot. He had never felt this much panic. He never had to hold back tears.

Hours later, Tim sat in the waiting room, his mind a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions. He couldn't lose her. Not when he finally understood what she meant to him.

"Any news?" Lucy asked, her voice trembling.

Tim shook his head, unable to speak. They sat in silence, each of them lost in their thoughts, until a doctor finally approached.

"She's stable," the doctor said, and Tim felt a rush of relief so intense it nearly knocked him over. "She lost a lot of blood, but she's going to be okay."

Tim let out a shaky breath. "Thank you," he whispered, his voice filled with gratitude.

As they were allowed into her room, Tim sat by (Y/N)'s bedside, holding her hand gently. She looked fragile, but there was a peacefulness to her face that gave him hope.

When her eyes fluttered open, she smiled weakly at him. "Hey," she whispered.

"Hey," Tim replied, his voice soft. "You scared me."

(Y/N) chuckled weakly. "Sorry about that."

Tim leaned closer; his eyes locked onto hers. "You were trying to tell me something before..."

“It was nothing. I just wanted to make sure you weren’t going to let me die there”, she whispered. She doesn’t know why she couldn’t just say the truth but this didn’t seem to be the right moment. She had just been shot. What if he assumed she was just high on morphine – which she probably was, but that’s not the point.

The point is, she has feelings for her Sergeant. For her boss. And she doesn’t know if he felt the same. She has doubts. Why would someone like Tim, who doesn’t let any feelings near him, like her? She was just another colleague of his.

“Mhm… ok. I have to go. I am on shift today, but I will come back later. And here, I’ve got you a burger and fries. Thought you don’t want to have the gross hospital food after you were shot and haven’t eaten for 35 hours.” Tim held a paper back towards her.

“Thank you. And wait… I haven’t eaten for 35 hours? That’s a record!” Tim chuckled at (Y/N)’s attempt to lighten the mood.

“See you later.”

***

A bit later, Lucy stepped into the room, what made (Y/N) happy as she has already watched three movies and started to get bored.

"Hey, you," Lucy greeted, her voice warm. "How are you feeling?"

(Y/N) managed a small smile. "I've been better. But I'm alive, thanks to you all."

Lucy pulled up a chair and sat beside the bed. "We're just glad you're okay. You really gave us all a scare."

(Y/N) hesitated, then decided to share her burden. If anyone could help her, it was Lucy. "Lucy, can I talk to you about something? Something... kind of… personal?"

Lucy raised an eyebrow, definitely intrigued. "Of course. What's up?"

(Y/N) took a deep breath, her heart pounding. "It's about Tim. I... I think…I have feelings for him. I have for a while, but I don't think I can tell him. I mean, why would he ever feel the same way about me?"

Lucy leaned back, crossing her arms with a smile tugging at her lips “I knew it. It was clear to all of us. Lopey, Harper and I, we even have a bet running when you are going to tell each other. But really, why would you think you're not enough for him?"

(Y/N) looked away, feeling a lump in her throat. "I don't know. He's just... Tim. Strong, dependable, a great leader and so, so confident. And I'm just... me."

Lucy leaned forward; her expression serious now. "Listen, (Y/N). Tim is great, but you're amazing too. You're brave, dedicated, and you've got a heart of gold. And you are so damn strong. You have just survived a shooting. If Tim doesn't see that, then he's blind. But honestly, from what I've seen, I think he does see it."

(Y/N) felt a flicker of hope but still wasn't convinced. "But what if I'm wrong? What if it ruins everything?"

“That’s the risk you’d have to take. But I really doubt it. How he looks at you? How worried he was when he heard you got shot? He even stayed in the uncomfortable hospital waiting room all night as he refused to go home in case something happened! He told Harper to get you the burger and fries in your favorite shop and was about to kill her when she wanted to go to a different one!”

(Y/N) looked at her best friend with wide eyes.

“Are you being serious?” Lucy nodded.

“I wouldn’t say that if I wasn’t.” (Y/N) looked away, tears welling up in her eyes.

Lucy sighed, reaching out to gently turn (Y/N)’s face back toward her. "Listen to me. Life is too short to hold back your feelings. If you care about him, he deserves to know. And you deserve to be happy."

(Y/N) sniffled, a small smile breaking through her fear. "But how? When? I can't just blurt it out."

They both chuckled at the thought of her randomly telling Tim she likes him.

“Maybe you tell him when you get discharged from hospital. I am sure he is going to be there because he worries about you and wants to make sure you are ok. He even volunteered to drive you to your apartment and make sure you are comfortable with staying at home without anyone”, Lucy said.

“Ok. That sounds like a plan. Thank you.” Lucy squeezed her hand and smiled at her.

“That’s what friends are for.”

***

Finally, the day of her discharge came, and (Y/N) has thought about this moment a lot. How would she tell Tim? Where? When they are still driving to her apartment or should she invite him into her apartment to talk to him? She has never been the one to tell the other person she’s in love with them.

Tim entered her hospital room, where she sat on her bed, wearing joggers and a wide shirt. She knew she didn’t look her best, but if Tim expected something different, only 5 days after she had been shot, he would be stupid.

“Hey. Are you ready to go home?” Tim stepped into the room, smiling softly at her. Had Lucy been right? Did he really feel the same for her as she did for him? He wasn’t the mean, strong man in this moment. He looked… she didn’t even know how to say it… softer than usually?

“More than ready. 5 days in a hospital without proper Wi-Fi is definitely too long.” Tim chuckled.

“Ok, come on. Can you walk on your own?” (Y/N) nodded even though she wasn’t so sure. Yes, the meds they gave her are good, but not as good as she didn’t feel the pain in her abdomen where the bullet hit her spleen.

She slowly got up from bed, trying not to wince because of the pain she felt.

“Let me help you.” (Y/N) didn’t even react before she felt Tims arm around her, helping her to stay upright.

Somehow, they managed to go to the car, and (Y/N) took a deep breath when she finally sat in the comfortable passenger seat of Tim’s car.

“Are you sure you are alright being home again? Without help? You didn’t even manage to go to the car properly.“

(Y/N) waved him off.

“I am going to be ok. The meds only start to wear off but it is going to be better once I have taken the new painkillers they gave me.”

“Mhm…”

While they drove, it was quite silent. (Y/N) thought about how to tell Tim how she felt about him, because she still wasn’t sure how to break the news.

The car came to a gentle stop in front of her apartment building. Tim turned off the engine and looked over at her. "You sure you're ready for this? I can stay for a bit if you need help getting settled."

(Y/N) nodded, taking a deep breath. "Actually, Tim, I was hoping you would come in for a bit. There's something I need to talk to you about."

Tim's brow furrowed with curiosity, but he nodded and got out of the car, helping her carefully navigate her way to her apartment. Once inside, she guided him to the living room, the familiarity of the space giving her comfort.

"Sit down, please," (Y/N) said, her voice sounded higher than usually. She motioned to the couch, and Tim obliged, his eyes never leaving hers.

"What's on your mind?" Tim asked, his tone gentle but also worried. And maybe a bit panicked?

(Y/N) took a seat beside him, her hands twisting nervously in her lap. "Tim, I... I need to tell you something kind of really important. It's been on my mind for a while now, and after everything that has happened, I just can't keep it to myself for longer."

Tim leaned forward, his full attention on her. "You can tell me anything. You know that."

She took a deep breath, her heart racing. "Tim, I... I think I have feelings for you. I know it's probably not appropriate, and I know you're my boss, but I can't help it. I care about you, more than just as a colleague or a friend."

The words hung in the air, and for a moment, (Y/N) feared the worst. Tim's expression was unreadable, and she braced herself for rejection.

But then Tim reached out, taking her hand in his. His touch was warm, reassuring. "I don't know what to say," he began, his voice soft. "Except that I feel the same way. I have felt like this for quite a while now. I care about you a lot, and it scared me to think I might lose you when you got shot and laid there."

(Y/N)'s eyes filled with tears, a mixture of relief and overwhelming emotion. "Really? I was so scared you wouldn't feel the same."

Tim smiled; a rare, genuine smile that even made her heart skip a beat. "It was hard to admit, even to myself. But seeing you hurt, thinking about what could have happened... it made me realize how much you mean to me."

There was an awkward silence for a moment, both of them processing the magnitude of what they had just confessed. Then, Tim chuckled softly. "I guess we're both pretty bad at this, huh?"

(Y/N) laughed, wiping a tear from her cheek. "Yeah, I guess we are. But I'm glad we finally talked about it."

“Me too.” Tim swiped his thumb over the back of (Y/N)’s hand, which he still had in his own.

“Tim? Is… is it ok if I kiss you?” Instead of an answer, Tim leaned into her direction, and kissed her like she never had been kissed before.

In this moment she knew that she loved this man. He has always been there for her. He was the person she talked about everything that happened in her life.

When Tim let go of her again, (Y/N) opened her mouth to say something.

“Was everything… with us… why you have always reacted so jealous and… tight… when I talked about my last boyfriends?”

Tim looked at her, his lips swollen from their kiss.

“Maybe… but I wouldn’t have wanted it differently. I loved listening to everything that happened in your life. And you always smiled so sweet when you talked about everything. I loved listening to you. I still have the records of when you recorded my books I had to learn for the sergeant test. Thank you.”

“What are you thanking me for?” (Y/N) looked at Tim confused.

“For being you. For making me laugh. For trusting me. Simply for everything. But I believe we aren’t allowed to work together from now on.”

“What if we didn’t tell anyone we are a couple?” Tim raised his brow at the question, before shrugging.

“I think that could work too.”

#the rookie #the rookie fanfic #tim bradford #tim bradford x reader #4x1

199 notes · View notes

sanakimohara · 8 months

Note

DDLG with seungmin....sounds like a god send🥰🥴

“DDLG” K.S.

Forgive me for the late response to you, love. 🖤 and of course DDLG Seungmin is going to get a spotlight. It’s only fair. 🖤

[ MDNI ]

++++++++

Dom Seungmin is a silent hard Dom. He doesn’t impose verbal control often which leads to you relying on nonverbal communication. When he pats his lap, an empty space beside him, or a perfectly vacant spot near his feet on the floor you don’t hesitate to sit/kneel. No words needed. With a tap of his fingers under your chin Seungmin instructs you to open your mouth wide for him -readying you to suck on his fingers or wrap around his cock. Every action he imposes is a way to instill mindless submission in you. He takes pride in your obedience, rubbing the top of your head lovingly when you listen without having to be told, and you welcome the praise with a tender smile. “Good pup/kitten.”

Dom Seungmin thrives off reading your expressions, can tell when you’re slipping into subspace, and attends to you accordingly. You don’t have to say anything to get his attention because it’s already drifting towards you. What kind of owner doesn’t watch over his pet at all times?… Not him. That for certain.

Dom Seungmin prefers you wear a collar/choker as a sign of his ownership. Out in public you have a charm/tag attached to it with his name engraved on one side but in private a little bell takes it place. Seungmin thoroughly enjoys the soft jingles your collar/choker makes, signaling when you’re near him, or showing off what he knows to be his. He’ll hook a finger under the dainty jewelry, using it to pull you close for a kiss, or hold your gaze when he’s speaking to you. It’s an automatic reflex he can’t seem to shake and you don’t pull away when he does. He owns you. There’s no doubt about that and the smile on your face every-time he admires his brand around your neck makes him fall in love with you all over again.

Dom Seungmin will make you walk around with a vibrator nestled in your cunt all day. You’re not allowed to remove it, touch yourself, or come without his elicit permission. It’s pure torture, a literal hell on earth for you, and um pooling in your panties and inner thighs keeps you fidgeting for hours. You text and call him non stop after the fourth time he’s edged you, wanting to cry as you beg him to stop, or at least be merciful enough to let you come. Your attempts are in vain because Seungmin amps up the intensity of the toy just to hear you swallow desperate whines, and broken whimpers purely for his entertainment. All while mocking your lack of restraint and sulky behavior. “You’ll be fine, pup. Keep it in for a few more hours and I’ll help when you get home…” “Stop? But it sounds like you’re enjoying it, sweetheart..” “What was that? I should set it higher…?” “You’re so cute when you beg, little one.”

Dom Seungmin sends you borderline threatening texts if you’re out in public together and another person so much as looks your way a little too long for his liking. He gets jealous easily and isn’t afraid to show it either. Although, you find it funny to some degree, he’s completely serious about his warnings.

“Get away from him.”

“Come here. Now.”

“Stop fucking with my patience, Y/n.”

“I should fuck that smile right off your face. His joke won’t be funny then will it?…”

“Don’t look so scared now, pup. You obviously wanted my attention and now you have it…”

Dom Seungmin doesn’t mind that you call him ‘daddy’ or ‘sir’ casually. He’s listening to you either way and prefers you call him such things in private. The one time you did slip up and asked him a question while using his title in public the smuggest smirk was plastered on his face for the entire day. “Should I get the green tea or mocha twist, daddy- ah erm….I mean s-sir….fuck, I mean- Min stop looking at me like that!” You whine while glaring at him, face on fire with embarrassment, and your heart thundering so loud you couldn’t even hear what was going on around you two anymore. He shook his head, quieting his laughter as best as possible before squeezing your hand that was intertwined with his, “The green tea sounds better, pup…”

Dom Seungmin will make you rut against his foot as a punishment. He doesn’t care if you beg to ride his thigh instead or plead for a less strenuous and humiliating reprimand. Whatever you’ve done deserves no leniency and Seungmin isn’t the type to crumble so easily under the influence of round and tearful puppy eyes. Seeing you struggle, writhing around like a bitch in heat excites him more than you realize, and he’ll make you carry on like that until he’s satisfied with the mess you make of yourself. “M’ tired,” you huff through building tears, legs on fire with pain, and your panties soaked through completely, but he makes no move to help you. “Did I tell you to stop?” His voice is low, barely bouncing off the darkened walls surrounding you two, and a shiver runs down your spine as the depth in his tone becomes evident. “No…” you reply meekly, unconsciously rolling your hips to resume your task. Seungmin grins, petting your head appreciatively, and gingerly lifting the top of his boot to press harder on your quivering cunt. You whimper at the added pressure, letting tears fall as another climax curls in your tummy, “Sir…please…n-no more….i wanna rest!” The pitch of your voice rises as the hand in your hair twists and tugs at the strands roughly, forcing your head up to look him in the eyes as he responds in an unnervingly calm whisper, “Good puppies don’t talk back to their master. When you learn that maybe I’ll let you stop. Maybe…”

Dom Seungmin allocates aftercare through discreet gestures. Drawing a bath for you, stocking up on your favorite snacks/drinks so you can indulge in a treat after, and leaving his clothes out for you to wear are common examples. He’s capable of giving you words of affirmation but firmly believes acts of service speak much louder than words. Your obedience to him is matched perfectly with his ability to provide whatever you need/want. It’s a fair transaction of effort on both parts. Seungmin never asks more of you than necessary and you don’t except him to overdo his gratitude. A wholesome midnight walk to get ice cream makes you happier than finding a dozen roses wrapped in silk. That isn’t to say he skips out on gifting you expensive rewards.

“Every pet needs a well earned treat…”

+++++++

So, I’m officially back, and I’m currently going through my inbox to answer requests. I apologize for taking so long to get to them but life is currently giving me lemons and I’m not the best at making lemonade… (that was funny so you better laugh or else…. :/ 🖤) Anyway, I hope you Min Stan’s liked this one… 🖤

[ BONUS CONTENT + ]

This hairstyle on him was insanely attractive for no apparent reason. Whoever’s idea it was to style him like this during that era should get a raise, extra paid time off, and a Medal of Honor from Stay. 🖤 Credit to the creator 🖤

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eccentricallygothic · 5 months

Text

|| Back To Black ||

Pairing: Dark!Winter Soldier James Bucky Barnes | Morally Gray Princess!You.

Description: When the Winter soldier experiments go wrong on your fiance Crown Prince James Barnes and he ends up crippled and unstable, you call the engagement off and your family proposes that the alliance can still be on if his family pairs you up with his twin brother Nick instead. But then James breaks out of the lab one night and comes straight for you, razing through everyone who stands in his way, hurt and unforgiving.

Disclaimer: I do not own James Bucky Barnes, Nick Fowler or any of the MCU characters mentioned (sadly). This story contains dark and mature content. Minors do not interact.

Warnings: Dubcon, morally gray!reader, opportunistic reader, smut with plot, dark!Bucky, angst, winter soldier, exhibitionism, choking, hair pulling, slapping, humiliation, degradation, dumbification, manhandling, unprotected p-in-v, biting, missionary and doggy style, breeding kink, creampie, fear kink, power imbalance, Bucky's metal arm (?), pet names (rosey, baby), Daddy kink, sir kink.

Note: I think this sounds a bit unserious and somewhat goofy aah but this was exactly my idea and I don't think I could have done it any different. Please let me know what you think <3

You rolled your eyes with a scoff at something your now fiance and ex brother-in-law to be, Crown Prince Nick Barnes, said. The night was cool and you had ordered for the lights of the garden that your balcony faced to be turned down. Your silk nightgown that was dark blue in color -Nick's royal color- hung from your shoulders in the most comforting way as the skirt bit of the article swayed with the gentle breeze. You heard Nick's chuckle on the other end of the video call and before you retorted with something edgy because that was just the kind of Princess that you were, you shifted against the railing to make yourself more comfortable while still holding the phone in such a way that he could see you.

His demanding nature was not one you particularly fancied but you supposed that was the kind of liberty that came with being an actual heir. Though you couldn't help but be reminded of how although his brother -the older twin- was a much better crown prince than Nick could ever be and yet he had never made you feel inferior in status by imposing his will on you.

It was impossible for you not to muse on the possibility that if your older sister, The actual Crown Princess of your kingdom, had been chosen by his brother instead of you, Nick would still treat her the same way and if she would put up with having to be subservient.

"All things considered, Your Royal Highness, we are still not having a dozen children" the title never failed to sting your tongue due to how you had never had to use it for your original fiance.

But Nick was just one of those people.

His snort made you want to roll your eyes but you knew better than to disrespect him as the two of you shared a rather formal relationship that was quite terse around the edges. Perhaps, his brother had spoiled you too much. "I always find it amusing that you think you have a choice in–" you were busy watching the stars because you could not bear to look at him when he behaved like this. But then he abruptly changed the topic and you didn't care to express concern by glancing at the screen, "I thought you said you excused your ladies, little one" he did not appreciate being lied to; something he shared with his identical brother.

"I did, Your Excellency" when he sighed in disapproval, you had to avert your eyes from the sky to look down at him on the screen with an air of annoyance about you. "I really–"

"Then who is that behind you?" Nick had also been busy reading away on a tablet as he traveled somewhere -probably back to the Palace- in a vehicle but now he narrowed in on his screen.

Your eyebrows remained flat and you resisted the urge to roll your eyes. "Ha ha, Your Highness, very funny" he had a thing for making silly jokes when he was in an agreeable mood, or at least moving towards one.

"Y/n, I am serious" there was an urgency in his voice as he leaned closer to get a better look. "Turn around right now and tell me who is–"

"You even wear his color now, huh rosey?" Your body took a good few moments to register the voice behind you and you nearly failed to recognize it at first. Though when your brain finally managed to make the association, your heart dropped into your stomach and your blood ran ice cold.

You spun around on your heels so hard they ached, coming face to face with James Barnes; the original Crown Prince and your real fiance. The man who had chosen you over your sister; giving preference to you for once, the brave warrior who had surrendered his body to his country; so they could make the best protector possible out of him, the honorable fool who only wanted to do good; a hero too noble for this wretched world.

Your phone that now blared with Nick's alarmed yells slipped through your numbing fingers but James caught it before it could break against the ground. "What the hell are you doing here?" You harshly whispered as if in a defensive autopilot, overwhelmed by how he had grown three times his size. Your eyes unintentionally traveled to where his arm had gotten mutilated on an expedition and you found a metal one glinting up at you in its stead. Maybe your reaction could be considered foolish in hindsight, but the knowledge that you were utterly at this unstable man's mercy and had nothing to defend yourself with against his monstrous stature terrified you. That in turn caused you to act in the only way you thought was appropriate as you desperately hoped for your facade to affect him in a helpful way.

"Did all those years mean nothing to you, rosey?" His face was covered in stubble and his dark hair was long as it obscured most of his features, deep voice animalistic as his black leather clad form seemed to expand and contract with each heavy breath. Your throat tightened in on itself and your breath hitched. What the hell had they really done to him?

"You shouldn't be here, James" you looked around for your guards– anyone but found the area to be eerily silent. How had you not noticed this ominous shift in your environment before? "That is against the rules as you're endangering the future Queen and many other people" he was all about rules and that was what you had disliked most about him. "Go back" your heart was on the verge of exploding but you pushed on with as much a semblance of composed firmness as you could muster.

Nick's threats and curses melted into the background as James coldly snorted before snatching you by your hair, fingers snaking through a tangle of the strands, the action causing you to wince. It was only when you tried to fight him back and the bustle caused the two of you to inch closer to the lighting of your chambers did his face really come into your view. Your eyes widened in horror as your hand went to clamp over the hold he had on you defensively.

His pale face was covered in blood splatters and his glossy teal eyes seemed to shake, their blown pupils crazed.

"So it was always about the crown then, huh, rosey?" You would never have expected him to sound as hurt and betrayed in this maddened state as he did.

"You know it was" you lied through your teeth to try and get his stance to falter like it always did when you counterattacked to his affectionate advances with hostility; the only thing you had known all your life. "Nothing matters more than the crown" the world functioned on power. So you had always used and abused that you had over him; over his heart.

"I see" except, it didn't seem to budge him much today. Your eyes desperately scanned your dark surroundings again, this time for a weapon albeit still in vain. "In that case, you should be with me, then" your eyebrows furrowed in confusion as you whimpered at how his fingers tightened around your neck.

"James!" And then you were getting dragged back into your chambers.

Once he had approached your bed, he placed your phone on the bedside table so a fuming Nick could clearly see whatever was about to unfold.

Your flailing form was yanked back in frame and then held tightly in place by the clasping of his metal hand over the deep neckline of your nightgown. "Because I am all fixed up," your eyes turned to look at him in horror as he chuckled dryly, "and back to take all that's mine" you screamed and hot tears finally rushed down your flushed cheeks when your compressed breasts sprang free in the air upon his tearing a thick valley between the front piece of your gown. James only snickered into the camera while his brother screamed at him to not dare damage what was his amongst other profanities.

But wasn't James simply repossessing what had always belonged to him in the first place?

He had finally corrected himself in the way the world deserved.

Now he would only live for himself like everyone else was.

He was done getting played for a fool by all.

"Please!" Your words fell on deaf ears as the man proceeded to further rip his brother's color off your body furiously until nothing remained in his hold except for your nudity, strong jaw nearly ticking broken due to how it was clenched as he did so.

"Tell me, dear, did you also let him have you?" You were nearly petrified at this point both by shame and fear as he manhandled you onto the bed before crawling over you like a predator and trapping your limbs under his. "And if you dare lie to me then so God help me" his metal hand roughly fondled your breasts as his other hand tightly restrained your limp yet determined wrists above your head.

"S- Stop!" Your back arched and you turned your face away in disgust when he started sniffing you all over like a hungry hound.

"Hm, what about this little pussy of mine down here" a chill ran down your spine at how the crevices of his metal hand felt against your nether lips when he stroked them. "Has she forgotten her Daddy, hm?" He was the stark opposite of the man you had been engaged to and that in addition to how you had last seen him slashing at the lab assistants while speaking a language you did not understand as well as how semi-liquid crimson particles covered his face caused for a wave of pure terror to rush over you. But it was nothing compared to the chilling fact that his body heat and touch -regardless of its fashion- had awakened that one familiar feeling only he could evoke in you.

Nick went silent at James' words and you felt blood rush to your tear stained cheeks.

Contrary to popular belief, you were not the chaste future Queen saving herself for her wedding night and King like the royal protocol demanded.

But in your defense, the then future King, James, himself was the one who had defiled you because you were already his. And you had let him for you could act all high and mighty as you desired in front of him as well as others due to how comfortably open he had always been about his feelings for you hence presenting a very vulnerable perhaps even a subservient part of himself to you on a silver platter, but also because the man knew how to fuck.

You were addicted to how he felt against you and though you had never brought your suspicion to your lips, you had wondered for the entirety of the time your betrothal had changed to Nick whether the younger twin would ever be able to come even close to his brother.

"Would you look at that?" His coo sounded out of place and ominous due to how the pretend softness stood out from the menace of his tone. "It doesn't seem like she has," your fingers instinctively clawed the air to try and take a hold of his hand to deal with the feeling of his bionic digits invading their way between your petals. "She still weeps and blinks up dumbly at me like a stupid slut all the same" horror filled you as you became hyper aware of Nick's eyes on you, and yet your skin began to buzz at the filthy words that still scratched you in that one way regardless of everything. "Rosey…?" It was chilling how he playfully raised an eyebrow like he wasn't covered in blood and flesh of the people that he had torn apart on his way to you, instead giving you a lazy grin as he spread your privates apart with the back of his hand. "Be honest for once and say, you didn't let him touch you, did you?" Your loins sparked to life when the tip of his finger ghosted over your entrance. "I mean, I know how demanding a whore you really are, common ways can't satisfy you and you don't waste your time on lost causes" James bent down to inch his grin closer to peer down at you and you had to turn your eyes away with a clasping shut of your lids. You had been caught. "The crown matters more than anything, huh?" Your eyes further clenched at his taunt and a shiver reverberated through you when his hot tongue darted out to swipe across the tear stains on your cheeks.

He had promised you during your courting period that he would never allow a single tear to fall from your eyes. It seemed so that even in this state, he was determined to keep it. This way or that.

"I- I belong to someone else now." Having always been treated inferior to your sister, you refused to let go of your only chance at power. So jutting your chin out determinedly you refused to look at him and falter in your stead, for you knew it would make you cave as his face was still that of your protector and pursuer.

Because even if a woman had not the slightest preference for her admirer, the mere knowledge that she was fancied earned him a place in her heart still.

"No, you don't" his words were stern and determined. "You were mine and you are mine" his lips trailed their way down to your neck to mark you his while one of his metal fingers penetrated your intimate band of muscles, causing you to bite back a moan as your pussy clenched defensively; hence intensifying the pleasure. "It's not your fault, really. Your little girl brain is too small to remember the difference between me and him for too long since we are identical, huh baby?" You hated how your traitorous hips betrayed you and began to move in sync with his finger. "But you don't have to worry your pretty little head about that, my sweet rosey…" His lips ghosted over your ear, hot breath fanning your alarmed skin. "I'll just claim you again to remind you" his teeth were sharp and unforgiving against your skin that had faded out the marks of his passion. "And I'll put my heir into that little womb of yours so whenever your tiny mind tries to get too silly again, my child will remind you who you belong to" he refused to acknowledge your protests at that and plopped his fingers out of you just long enough to undo his pants. "Besides," his hard cock easily found its way to your entrance, as always, "isn't procreation one of the duties of the King and the Queen?"

It was then you realized that his transformation had been physical in every sense.

Your eyes widened as your body jolted upwards in shock, lazed out hips now sparking up to life to almost try and get away from the cruel impaler that threatened to intrude it in a manner so devastating that the band feared a ripping of the lining.

James snorted when your pussy refused to accept him and clenched in on itself defensively to shut him out, your petals nearly trembling in fear. "Aw, baby. How cute, you did stay faithful to me after all, huh" shaking his head when you only sobbed in response, he grunted as his huge shoulders moved to attempt an invasion yet again only to be denied. "Tsk, tsk, never learns her lesson, does she?"

"Plea–" your words were cut off by a harsh smack resounding against your pussy lips and you jerked up and into his chest.

"Bad pussy" he seemed to be immersed in a world of his own amusement and lust, ears deaf to your pleas while his dark eyes drank up every last drop you had to offer. "Always playing around with her Daddy" the force of his metal hand was cruel against your tender flesh when three short paced slaps came down on it in quick succession. "Thinking she has a choice, tsk" the next hit was hard and heavy. "It seems she needs to be reminded who calls the shots around here" two concluding slaps later, you were being braced for his cock again and surprisingly enough, your tense little pussy was much more compliant with receiving him this time.

That, and the embarrassing amount of slick that had seeped through your petals as a product of the brief disciplining session.

"You feel that, baby?" His eyes finally looked up into yours as he aligned himself along your entrance. "She's all fixed up for her Daddy now" and then he pushed in.

"Oh!" Your back arched before you could respond since he bottomed out rudely at once, biting down on a sensitive patch of your neck the same time as when he intruded your insides.

The thing was, it wasn't that James wasn't an experimental lover, no. The two of you had done things that you felt mortified to even think about for too long. But it had always been with proper care and vigilance because the then crown prince was very soft on you as he referred to you as his heart. So you treated him like a pet dog and trampled all over his feelings and the liberty you had found in his treatment of you; something you had never been allowed before. You were used to pulling at his strings like a puppeteer.

But now, the way he pulled and twisted you in whatever fashion that he desired…

You never expected the rush of hot need that waved its way over you and the thick arousal that gushed out of your womb to slick his cock to be the result of his manhandling you like you were no more than a doll for him to play with.

And then his touch that you had been deprived of for months was further blocking your intellectual faculties amongst other things.

James' eyes fluttered close as his metal hand reached for your throat to squeeze out the remnants of your refusals. A grunt left him as he let himself reminisce as well as get overwhelmed by the velvet texture of your splotched walls. He brought his face closer to yours and groaned before pressing it into one of your cheeks to press hard, sloppy kisses all over it as his hips moved but only to press harder up your womb.

It was James' custom invented way of getting you completely stretched out for his cock.

… That had grown thrice its size because of his serum procedures.

And the man had already been way bigger than the average.

"J- Jame-s!" You gasped out, struggling to breathe. His stiff tip felt like it was beginning to penetrate something else. "P- Plea-se!"

"What do you want, huh baby?" Your features scrunched together in discomfort as you flexed your fingers again. They needed to be freed so they could hold onto something to cope with the overwhelming penetration.

"Move…" A smirk pulled his lips apart and he opened his dark teal eyes to peer down at you, silently grunting as he pushed deeper at that. "P- Pl-ease–" your tears were starting to become hot and you could feel your nerves bulging against your forehead from the lack of oxygen.

"Will you behave if I do?" Your toes curled as you hissed, the knee that you wanted to bring up as a way to deal with the pain trapped under his heavy thigh.

You timidly nodded because there was not much else left for you to do. It hurt, and you wanted him to move to ease the pain almost as much as you needed him to fuck you.

James clicked his tongue in disapproval and bit down on one of your nipples in a punishing manner, making you jolt upwards in pain. "Use your words, honey." A surge of pure pleasure overwhelmed you and you moaned loudly with satisfied nods, letting him know that you were in the process of complying.

Like you always did when he was buried balls deep in your cunt.

"So you were fucking him when he was courting you, weren't you?!" Nick was furious on the other line, feeling like a lied to fool as you had denied it when he had asked you about it. "I fucking knew it you stupid slut!" The words caused you to clench harder around James' girth as you bit your bottom lip. "I am–" he went to cut the call but a gun entered the frame to press into his temple as his car seemed to come to a halt. You heard a faint 'watch' being told to your fiance.

But for some twisted reason, the way in which Nick's livid eyes now watched you with a quiet rage caused the desire in your hips to only bubble hotter. He didn't have a choice for once and you could go against him all you pleased "I w- will behave… p-lease!" Your eyes had stuck on your fiance so James patted your cheek to redirect your attention to him.

"Eyes on me" the demand was followed by his letting go of your wrists to snake his arms under your waist to hoist you up and in a more convenient position for his cock. You moaned as your fingers found his long hair to hold on to.

"Y- Yes… sir" his leather jacket was coated in blood and human and you did not want yours to add to the mix. So you raked your mind and you raked it hard. "T- Thank you, sir" you rather prided yourself on your opportunistic wit.

James chuckled darkly as he began to reel his hips back, your cavern making a loud decompression sound as a result. You found yourself sighing in relief when his hard skin unglued from yours because for a second it had begun to feel like he was stuck in your channel.

"So fucking clever even with that little brain, aren't we, baby?" Of course you could never truly fool him regardless of how good you were.

"BUCKY! OH!" A vile whine loudly left you when he kissed your chin only to sink down his teeth into it next as his hips snapped against yours to fuck you upwards. He didn't halt this time and pulled out again to back thrust in, his movements slow but visibly desperate to speed up. "FUCK!"

"Ah, there is that girl I raised on this cock and its milk" your chin stung when he finally let go to close his mouth on one of your cheeks now, causing you to shiver from how overwhelmed you felt by the pain in your face and the pleasure that bloomed in your pussy that was inching closer and closer to a proper pounding as result.

"Please fuck your child in me!" It had been far too long. "Please! I need it so bad! Please fuck me full of your children so I can always remember who I belong to!" You liked how Nick watched– had to watch. It almost felt like revenge; a slap you had wanted to hit him stupid with for the longest time for making you feel so low when his brother, who was twice the man he could ever hope to be and your real suitor, never had. James' cock felt just right as he fucked you so good that you began to see neon stars. You didn't care anymore. Or at least, not in the moment. It felt as though your life depended on this release.

Perhaps… it did.

Besides, the silence in your surroundings and gun next to Nick meant James had it covered in some way. Not that it was much of a surprise. His Kingdom had the greatest army to date and those soldiers were loyal and compliant only to him.

"You know what's the best part about this, rosey?" Your mouth was agape as you panted and moaned through it alike, tugging at his silky strands as his ballsack clapped against the beginning of your ass before sliding into your cunt each time, the primal smell of slick, sweat and sex floating in the air around you.

"What is it, my King?" You were shameless with it, as you had always been. "Please tell me" the fake way in which you unclasped your fingers from his hair to scratch one of his cheeks with your nails made him clench his jaw as he squeezed one of your tits, pistoning his cock in and out of you even faster.

"I know you don't mean any of this" you froze momentarily and his crooked smirk morphed into a grin. "But you will before the year's end" you went to speak but his metal hand found your clit just in time and your eyes rolled to the back of your head, nails digging into the stubble of his cheek. "I know you will" him promising you that you'd return his feelings one day wasn't anything new. He had always told you that. However, normally your response would be a roll of your eyes or simply a change of topic. But today, something dangerously final lingered in them and you had no clue why but you found yourself answering;

"Yes, sir! Thank you, sir! I will, sir!" One of his thick nerves twitched against a particularly sensitive spot in your walls the same time his tip found your special bundle of nerves and brutally collided into them, tearing out incoherent screams from deep within you. "Oh- I am– I am–"

"Don't cum" his hand disappeared from your clit and your eyes that you had subconsciously closed flung open as you begrudgingly tugged at his hair with a needy whine. "You don't deserve it" your body violently jiggled up and down in his arms as you vehemently shook your head.

"NO! PLEASE!" If there was one thing he didn't appreciate, it was you raising your voice at him. But you couldn't help it, your build up was nearing its edge and the fear that it would topple over all wrong after such a long time scared you. Because once an orgasm was ruined, there was no coming back from it. James had taught you that one night after a ball when you had danced with someone a little too frankly.

"No?" He was panting himself as he hugged your waist closer to his, the feeling of his cock's imprint pressing against both of your stomachs only making him slam you down harder and harder. "So you deserve it?"

You quickly shook your head as your boobs flew about, pussy trying to close on itself out of sensitivity when his metal fist closed around your throat again. "N- No! No! I don't, sir!" Your voice altered in a humiliating manner when he squeezed and your dry throat pressed in on itself, making you cough.

"That's right" his hand parted from your neck long enough to slap you. "Think you can just say your pathetic little pretty please and I'll forgive you for forgetting my existence the moment I wasn't good enough for you?" You sobbed out of frustration, willing your hips into squeezing themselves closer together so you could hold on from falling over.

"No!" He slapped you again, the force causing your head to turn sideways this time around. "No, sir!" Desperately reaching for the artificial hand you pressed humiliating kisses all over it. "But it's been so long! Please, my King!" Your back arched from the strength it was taking you to keep yourself from cumming. "I need you so bad! I need it so bad!" In your confusion and oversensitivity you dropped your head against his, your knees trembling. "Only you can make me cum! I tried for months! So many times in so many different ways!" The tears of embarrassment were hotter than those of need that you had been weeping all this time. His movements faltered a little at your confession. "But nothing worked! Only you do! So please! Please let me cum! I don't know what I will do if you don't! Please let me cum and give me your babies!"

"Only I work, huh?" His voice was eerily quiet, a new kind of dark exploding in the air about him. You vigorously nodded, genuine for once in your life.

James' chuckle was the only thing your hazy mind registered before you were moved, twisted, turned and bent faster than you could keep up with.

The next time your consciousness caught up with the present you were facing your phone, on your knees like an animal as your build up slowly subsided. Though your vacant pussy was plunged full soon after, your legs getting pulled apart before being hoisted up in the air by James' hand, your elbows the sole support of the upper half of your body now.

"Tell him how badly you want to be stuffed full of my children and I'll let you have it" blood rushed to your face to bubble under the skin when your eyes locked with those of the stoic male at the same time but before you could hesitate, James cock began to move inside you although torturously slow. "You might want to hurry up, rosey. I don't have all night" the spank that his words accompanied sparked you into motion like someone pressed a button on you.

"Please, Nick!" The thrusts sped up and your claws dug into the mattress. "I want James' children so bad!" There wasn't much emotion on the male you faced but the bright red of his ears and neck even in the dim lighting of the car indicated that he was both furious and humiliated. Perhaps even more so than you. "Please! Please ask him to stuff me full of his babies!" The more slaps rained down on your ass as your pussy expanded to welcome James balls deep inside you with each brutal thrust, the more your mouth ran on the most vile autopilot. "All I want in my life is to be fucked swollen and heavy with his children with my body wrapped up in his color while I nurse the other ones!" James cursed before his hand reached for your front to dip between your legs and you moaned before your arms gave out and you fell face first.

"You heard her, now tell him that" as your cheek rubbed against the mattress everytime you were pounded into it, you heard a man speak to Nick. The Prince tried to protest but something– probably the gun pressing against his head caused him to stop before he gritted out a few seconds after;

"... Fuck your children into her and wrap her swollen body in your colour, James" the man reminded him that it was King James, for whatever reason and Nick sighed before correcting himself. "Please, King James" you couldn't help the whimper that forced itself out of you at his menacing tone.

Your back arched when the frantic circular motions of his fingers became too much for your cunt to handle and you clenched around his girth again, shuddering as you prepared yourself to get in trouble for the orgasm you were about to have.

But then your dependable luck did its thing. "Cum," the vibration of the spank buzzed through your whole body, "cum for me" as your tense muscles relaxed and you closed your eyes to let go, you felt James' hot seed explode within you, the force of his thrusts causing the cum to go flying all about.

Your eyes fluttered shut and the only two things you registered for the next few minutes were shaking profusely while limb paralyzing pleasure exploded through you and the rapid rubbing of your cheek against the soft bed covers which was result of the brutal pounding you were receiving from behind.

When he was done with you, he slowly untucked himself from you and left you trembling on the mattress while he fixed himself up. "Natasha!" Your ears perked up at the name of his second in command and you trembled at his volume. The heavy doors to your chambers opened and closed after the woman in question.

The red head clicked her tongue as she approached the bed, the heels of her boots faintly clicking against the floor as she walked. "Could've done better…" You jumped from how close she sounded when she spoke. "Because she's still awake" the hair on the top of your head was fisted into his metal arm to pull you up and you had to hurriedly scramble to cover your blushing jizz covered ass.

"For what's going to happen next" you whimpered at his words as you were moved onto your trembling knees by the humiliating hold that the man had on your hair and your whole body shook under the stern woman's scrutinizing glare. Peeking up at the red head through your lashes, you went to cover yourself up but James' scold for you to stay put had you planting your wrists in your lap within the next second. "Hands down" you hurriedly lowered your head too to avoid further increasing his ire.

Some shuffling sounded from above you before James approached you again. "Arms up, baby" the endearment must mean that you would be spared… right? You quickly complied with the utmost obedience and James placed a comfortable black gown on you before stepping back to reach for something else.

You almost gasped when you recognized the brilliant glimmer from your peripheral vision.

His mother, The Queen's, crown.

"There you go" you felt him place it on your head and your heart dropped. "Everything you always wanted placed on that silly little airhead of yours, baby" an embarrassing gasp escaped you when he suddenly pulled you closer by your throat. "Are you happy now, my sweet rose?" Your eyes welled up with confusion and how he suddenly slapped you before pressing his lips against yours roughly.

"He asked you a question, brat" you jumped at how Natasha spoke up suddenly, clearly fed up with you blinking up at him dumbly.

"That's no way to speak your Queen, Nat" your heart warmed up at how he clicked his tongue at the woman disapprovingly. "Tsk."

"Y- Yes. Yes" you nodded, still in a daze of post-orgasm sensitivity and general puzzlement at the absurd turn of events from an already shocking situation. "Yes, sir. Thank you so much."

He was smiling now. "Good girl" before he pecked your lips and held his hand back for Natasha to hand him something else. "You can rule all of them" your face burnt when your mind registered the accessory that he wrapped around your throat next. A collar and a leash embedded with sparkling diamonds. "I just want to rule you" his metal hand rotated in the air as he wrapped the leash around his bionic digits. "Let's go" you nearly fell on your face as you were pulled off the bed before being marched straight to the heavy doors.

Natasha opened them to reveal your entire family and staff standing mortified outside on weapon point of James' army. You whimpered and lowered your head in embarrassment until your chin touched the area between your collar bones, fingers tightening around your gown as you suddenly became hyper aware of the faint dig of the edges of the collar against your pampered skin.

"The King has called the alliance off" Steve, your owner's right hand, announced in his firm and curt voice. "The only reason why he has spared you, I must add just this once, is because you are related to the Queen. Any efforts of contact from here on out will lead to unsavory consequences akin to those his own family has met" a chill raised in your spine as your blood dropped in temperature. Holy fucking shit. They really had made a beast out of this once too noble to be true man. "Lastly, not that any of you really care but if the Queen ever wishes to visit, she will be allowed to do so after she has provided His Highness with an heir, accompanied by some of the best that the army can provide."

The walk out to the numerous sleek black SUVs felt like one of shame despite you wearing the crown you had always fantasized about.

And perhaps that's exactly what it was.

A balancing of the scale.

For betraying the one who loved you so dearly that even in his mindless state, he had known not to hurt you.

At least, not in a way that hadn't made your silly little pussy weep for more.

Tag(s) <3: @identity2212 @tilltheendofthelinepal13 @cjand10 @ihavetwoholesforareason @myfavbuckyfics

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atinyslittleworld · 4 months

Text

Beneath the Western Sky

cowboy!san x f!reader

Summary: Choi San, a charming cowboy, frequents a saloon in the small town of Red River, where he falls for Y/N, the younger daughter of the stern saloon owner. Despite San's persistent efforts to win Y/N's heart, her father disapproves and warns him to stay away.

Genre: a little angst, mainly fluff

Warnings: mention of guns

The sun was beginning to set over the dusty plains, casting a warm, golden hue over the small frontier town of Red River. Choi San, a rugged cowboy with a reputation for being both charming and reckless, sauntered down the main street, spurs jingling with every step. He adjusted his hat and glanced around, his eyes inevitably drawn to the bustling saloon at the end of the street – the place where he spent many nights with his mates, and more importantly, where the object of his affections worked.

The younger daughter of the saloon owner, Y/N, was a vision of beauty and grace. She had a laugh that could light up the darkest of rooms and a smile that made San's heart race every time he saw her. Despite his best efforts to woo her, Y/N remained elusive, always managing to slip away just when he thought he was getting close.

San pushed open the swinging doors of the saloon and made his way to the bar, where Y/N was busy serving drinks to the rowdy patrons. She glanced up and caught his eye, a small, knowing smile playing on her lips.

"Evening, San," she said, her voice like a melody to his ears.

"Evening, Y/N," he replied, leaning against the bar. "How's the night treating you?"

"Busy as always," she said, pouring a drink for a nearby customer. "What brings you here tonight?"

"Same as always," San said, his tone teasing. "A drink and some good company."

Y/N raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. "Is that so? Well, you'll have to work for it."

Before San could respond, the saloon doors swung open again, and the burly figure of Y/N's father, Mr. Cruz, strode in. His stern expression and imposing presence were enough to make even the toughest of cowboys think twice about crossing him. He caught sight of San at the bar and his eyes narrowed.

"San," Mr. Cruz said, his voice gruff. "What are you doing here?"

San straightened up, trying to appear casual. "Just enjoying a drink, Mr. Cruz. No harm in that, is there?"

Mr. Cruz’s gaze shifted to Y/N, who was watching the exchange with a hint of amusement. "As long as you're not bothering my daughter, I suppose it's fine."

San held up his hands in mock surrender. "Wouldn't dream of it, sir."

With a final, suspicious glance, Mr. Cruz turned and headed to the back of the saloon. San let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding and looked back at Y/N, who was stifling a laugh.

"Your father's a hard man to impress," San said, shaking his head.

Y/N shrugged, still smiling. "He means well. Just looking out for me, I suppose."

"Can't blame him for that," San admitted. "But it does make things a bit difficult."

"Maybe that's the point," Y/N said, leaning a little closer. "Keeps the wrong kind of men away."

San's eyes sparkled with determination. "And what about the right kind of men?"

Y/N's smile widened, but she said nothing, turning back to her work. San watched her for a moment before deciding it was time to up his game. He couldn't let her slip through his fingers again.

Over the next few weeks, San made a point to visit the saloon more often, always finding an excuse to talk to Y/N. He helped around the place, offered to fix things that were broken, and even took on some of the rowdier patrons to keep the peace. His efforts did not go unnoticed, least of all by Y/N.

One evening, as the saloon was closing up, San found Y/N sweeping the floor. He approached her, tipping his hat with a grin.

"Need any help?" he asked.

Y/N looked up, surprised but not displeased. "Sure, if you don't mind."

San grabbed a broom and started sweeping, working alongside her in companionable silence. After a while, he cleared his throat, glancing at her out of the corner of his eye.

"You know, Y/N, I've been thinking..."

"About what?" she asked, not looking up from her task.

"About you," he said simply. "And how much I'd like to get to know you better."

Y/N paused, leaning on her broom as she studied him. "And what makes you think I want to get to know you better, San?"

San shrugged, his smile never wavering. "A man can hope, can't he?"

Y/N shook her head, though there was a hint of a smile on her lips. "You're persistent, I'll give you that."

"I'll take that as a compliment," San said, stepping closer. "So, what do you say? Give me a chance?"

Before Y/N could respond, the door to the back room opened, and Mr. Cruz stepped out. He took one look at San standing so close to his daughter and his expression darkened.

"San, I thought I told you to stay away from my daughter," Mr. Cruz said, his voice low and dangerous.

San straightened, meeting Mr. Cruz’s gaze without flinching. "I mean no disrespect, sir. I just want a chance to prove myself."

Mr. Cruz crossed his arms, his eyes cold. "And why should I give you that chance?"

"Because I care about her," San said earnestly. "And I think she cares about me too."

Mr. Cruz looked at Y/N, who was watching the exchange with a mixture of surprise and hope. Before she could say anything, a loud crash came from outside the saloon, followed by shouting and the sound of galloping hooves. All three of them turned toward the noise.

"What's going on out there?" Y/N asked, worry etched on her face.

San quickly moved toward the door, peeking outside. "Looks like a gang of outlaws," he said grimly. "Causing trouble again."

Mr. Cruz's face hardened. "We need to keep everyone inside safe."

San nodded, his mind racing. "Y/N, get the women and children to the back. Mr. Cruz, you and I will hold the front."

Y/N didn't need to be told twice. She quickly ushered the few remaining patrons to the back rooms while San and Mr. Cruz readied themselves. The outlaws were getting closer, their shouts growing louder.

The door burst open, and a group of rough-looking men stormed in, guns drawn. San and Mr. Cruz sprang into action, their own weapons at the ready. A tense standoff ensued, the saloon filled with the sounds of shouting and gunfire.

San moved with the grace and precision of a seasoned cowboy, taking down several outlaws while protecting the saloon and its occupants. Mr. Cruz fought alongside him, his fierce determination matching San's. The two men, despite their differences, worked together seamlessly.

In the midst of the chaos, San caught sight of Y/N peeking out from the back room. Her eyes widened with fear and concern as she watched him. He knew he had to end this quickly to keep her safe.

With a final burst of energy, San disarmed the remaining outlaws, sending them fleeing from the saloon. The noise died down, and the dust settled. San and Mr. Cruz stood in the now-quiet saloon, breathing heavily but victorious.

Y/N rushed out from the back room, her eyes searching for San. When she saw him standing there, unharmed, she ran to him, throwing her arms around him.

"Thank you," she whispered, her voice trembling. "Thank you for keeping us safe."

San held her close, his heart pounding. "I'd do anything for you, Y/N."

Mr. Cruz approached them, his stern expression softening as he looked at San. "You proved yourself tonight, San. Maybe I was wrong about you."

San nodded, grateful for the older man's words. "Thank you, sir."

Mr. Cruz glanced at Y/N, then back at San. "You take care of her, you hear me?"

San tightened his hold on Y/N. "I will. I promise."

With the danger passed and the saloon slowly returning to normal, Y/N looked up at San, her eyes filled with a mixture of relief and admiration.

"You really are something, San," she said softly.

San smiled, brushing a strand of hair from her face. "Does that mean you'll give me a chance?"

Y/N pretended to consider it for a moment before nodding. "Alright, cowboy. You've got yourself a chance."

San's grin widened, and he leaned in, capturing her lips in a tender kiss. As they stood there, surrounded by the remnants of the night's chaos, they knew that whatever challenges lay ahead, they would face them together.

#choi san #san #san x reader #ateez fic #ateez fanfic #ateez imagines #ateez x reader #ateez

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jacevelaryonswife · 11 months

Text

You got me losing control

You looked at him again, anxious, watching him approach cautiously until he shortened the distance between your bodies. “I want you tonight... if you want me...”

pairing: aemond targaryen x wife!reader

warnings: smut, p in v sex, english is not my first language. 3,240 words

aemond targaryen masterlist

Your marriage to Prince Aemond of House Targaryen was a blessing to your family. No matter how noble a birth or reputation was before Westeros, the union with a representative of royalty is the summit of relevance, respect and sophistication that a house can achieve — and that's exactly how you and your family came to be seen and treated in Kingslanding.

After the announcement of the engagement, certain rumors about the behavior and appearance of your betrothed stirred some concerns about your future and safety. Prince Aemond was a robust, polite, healthy young man and a prodigy in the art of swords; he was also a lover of books, history, philosophy and very reserved, especially after the incident. On the other hand, he was also described as easily irritable, intimidating, serious, silent, ruthless and deformed.

None of you were presented properly before the engagement, which made the following weeks strange, tense and reluctant, even if the effort to alleviate such a situation was mutual — shy and slow as well. You had not yet decided if he didn’t approve of your choice as his future lady wife or if that (contained, cordial and impatient) was just his way. Courtesy was not a problem until it became excessive as a barrier and you begged the Mother for unhappiness to cross your path. You were a lady more than suitable for a wedding, you considered yourself beautiful, polite and affable within your own limits, any Lord would be more than graced to have you by his side, according to your lady mother, and so you expected your new husband to find it.

Everything seemed to go well in the following weeks after the wedding. Even reserved and mysterious, Aemond was kind, attentive and worried about spending some moments of the day with you beyond duty, the construction of intimacy and trust was still slow, but quite satisfactory — in addition, your dresses and jewelry were more beautiful and extravagant than those of the other ladies. However, there was something that terrified you and your husband from the tip of your toes to the last hair: bedtime.

It was infinitely the strangest and most tense situation that your relationship with the prince experienced. You learned that even in moments where his were nervous and not knowing how to act he would still try to maintain the imposing and ruthless posture, but with easy-to-read nuances that revealed that he hadn’t idea what was happening. The consummation of the marriage was the worst physical pain ever felt in your life, although fast, it was extremely uncomfortable and unpleasant. The second night he bed you was even shorter, as a knock outside the shared room in the service of the queen hindered the hardness of his sword. Already the third time his own virility failed and served to create worrying thoughts about your lord husband's lack of interest in you. What if your appearance didn't please he? Or your inexperience? He was also inexperienced, it couldn't be that.

Everything got worse when your moon blood came and the realization of not being able to generate a fruit with his seed left you highly distressed. What if everything got worse after that? Rumors would certainly circulate about the prince's unfit wife and your fertility would be put in check. Such moods were enough to keep you disturbed, sad and ashamed by the previous and present days of your moon blood, until things suddenly changed when the week passed and the way your husband looked so tempting during the sparing session with Sir Criston Cole made an avid heat bloom all over your body. It wasn't even that warm in Kingslanding but he has never been more handsome and virile before, with his silver hair flying through the courtyard and his clothes leaving his delicious defined body even more manly.

What was going on with you?

You knew that the only thing in your mind was that you couldn't wait to have him alone later.

And that's what you did when you left dinner earlier and have a bold and daring bed linen along with loose hair for your husband. The cream-colored dress was made of the finest silk of lys and fell slightly through your body with long sleeves that didn’t close in your arms and left them exposed when moving. You were with your back to the bed and facing the door, anxiously waiting for the arrival of your prince.

You felt a restlessness composed of warmth and desire to go through your body and focus on your femininity in the eagerness for his touch, from the hands exploring your body, your breasts, for the intimate and carnal connection to be consummated. The reason for that was strange to you, since the other times you were together were nothing short of uncomfortable, but who were you to define the plans of fate?

Therefore, when the door opened and Aemond came across his beautiful wife in exquisite and suggestive clothes, his good eye widened more than usual. He closed the door and remained still, impeccable posture and half-open mouth. Your gaze faltered and faced the floor in the following moments, keeping the room silent for long seconds until the courage inflated your lungs and a request for low approach escaped from your lips.

"Can you come here, husband?" You looked at him again, anxious, watching him approach cautiously until he shortened the distance between your bodies. “I want you tonight... if you want me...”

An intense look and a stronger pull of air were the prince's physical response, remaining almost static in front of him. Would it be reluctance or surprise? You didn't want to be pessimistic.

In fact, for a moment Aemond forgot how to pronounce any kind of words and form sentences, totally surprised by your newly discovered boldness. It was a fact that the least developed pillar of your union was the moment of bed, but he thought that time and reading on the subject would enrich the occasion. But not that way, not with his little lady wife looking so tempting in her soft clothes.

The prince was oblivious to what he considered depravity. His only experience with a lady wasn’t planned and appreciated by him and the option to protect himself for his future lady wife was chosen. Unfortunately, the negative side of keeping inequity out of his life was to arrive at the moment of bed without knowing how to give pleasure to his lady correctly. He hated to see the discomfort stamped on your beautiful face every time he pushed his member on your walls, especially in the first copulation. But here he was and there you were willingly giving yourself.

Your steps were smooth and decided in his direction — although there was fear of being renegade — stopping when your hands landed on the chest covered by the black layers of his tunic. "If you don't want to, I'll understand," no, you wouldn't, you would freak out, but it was your duty as a lady and wife to comply with your husband.

Meanwhile, breathing seemed more difficult every second when he noticed the intensity in the way you watched him, a warm and lustful intensity that no other lady ever directed him. He was being cooked inside his own clothes in an almost maddening fire.

"I want this, lady wife," his voice was a few octaves more serious than usual, his good eye so attentive to your gaze that it seemed to pierce your soul.

Only that confirmation made nectar leak from your flower in anticipation. You didn't want to waste any more time, leaning against him, one hand remained on his chest while the other went up the uninjured side of his face, not wanting him to feel cornered.

“May I kiss you, husband?” You asked in a lascivious voice.

“Yes,” he whispered, wrapping an arm around your waist and holding the left side of your face.

The meeting between your lips was calm (inicially), firm and intimate. There was no previous shyness whenever a kiss happened, no, it was incisive, dominant and became increasingly ravishing and warm. There was urgency in the physical search for each other, making the kiss last longer than any other ever exchanged. It was everything you ever wanted it to be, as natural and ardent as a real dream. But it wasn't enough to satisfy your desire for him.

Moving away from your husband's silky and pink lips, you were quick to announce your next wish: "take off my dress, please, I want to do it the right way today."

The usual blue iris was nothing but a memory dominated by the darkness of his pupil. Aemond's large hands landed on your shoulders to slide both straps of the dress to the sides, removing the fabric accumulated at your waist to the floor, exposing your body in full vision to him.

You were burning, longing so eagerly to be touched that you didn’t want to wait for the prince's excessive chivalry and anticipated unbuttoning his tunic without noticing the approach of his hands on your breasts, making you sigh pleasantly in the massage received. It took a lot of effort to keep undressing your husband and not succumbing to his touch on your soft flesh, almost tearing off the piece and throwing it on the floor.

It was not appropriate for a lady to be desperate for such an activity, so even though you wanted to give the same fate to the pants that hid the modesty of your husband, you restrained yourself by analyzing and strumming his delicious abdomen and chest, touching his sculpted shoulders and long arms. His appearence was ridiculously ethereal and perfect.

“Take me Aemond, I need you,” you begged before capturing his lips again, moaning softly when he growled at your mouth and squeezed your ass with one hand and held the part of your head with another, feeling a growing hardness pressing against his stomach.

“I need to prepare you first, my lady,” he whispered hoarsely, now holding on both sides of your hips and looking away shamelessly to your femininity.

Maybe if it weren't for your rush you would have enjoyed a different pleasure that night, with your husband's lips pressed on their petals, but you still didn't know that. However, what he referred to earlier was already understandable to a lady like you.

"No need, I'm ready," you took his hand and guided him to feel your sticky folds, rubbing your juices gently on his thin fingers. After that you didn't spare time to get on the bed and wait for him, who was very quick to discard his shoes and pants to reach you with ferocity. Gods, what was your misdemeaning behavior doing to him?

The prince breathed heavily as he reached your body only to be rotated on the bed so that you would assume him as a mount. “I would like to try otherwise,” you said it with even heavier eyes, putting your hands on his chest to settle above his groin, his virile and thick masculinity rubbing against your mound, making both moan and hands fly at your waist when you rubbed your folds on him.

You have never seemed more tempting than now, with your beautiful body to total contemplation and disposition and so needed by the union of a man and a woman. It was said by Grand Maester Orwyle that ladies usually behave differently after moon blood and can become demanding about their husbands. Aemond properly interpreted the connotation used by the older man, but did not imagine that it would be such a drastic and needy requirement.

And then, deciding to end your suffering, you sat on the bulbous and reddish tip of your prince's sword, ignoring the initial pain and closing your eyes as you felt him stretch your walls so well in an overwhelming and indescribable feeling. "Oh, Aemond!" A breathless moan escaped when it reached his groin after long seconds. The extraordinary pain recurrent at other times was nothing more than an old ghost when you slid easily on its axis, moving up and down in an experimental and tasty constancy.

Aemond tried to keep his usual stoic feature but it was absolutely difficult when your velvety walls made him feel so good. With his mouth ajar and a heavy look, Aemond squeezed his waist in his clamor for him, taking a deep breath with the sloppy and needy rhythm that you established next.

You didn't know if you were doing it the right way, but you really appreciated the feeling of his thick and soft sword brushing against delicious places in your soft flower. It was good enough to make you moan continuously and scratch the milky skin on his chest.

Hoarse and strangled sounds were released by him during the shock of your hips, closing the good eye to focus on not ending early. He was still stunned by the walk of things since his arrival at the shared cameras — positively stunned. He never imagined that fornication could be so delicious for both of you.

Your eyes opened when your body signaled fatigue from the exercise in question, causing you to reduce your jumps and lean against his abs, almost lying on Aemond when purring so that he would take a position above you. You are not sure if it was the fluidity of the movement or the pressure on your thighs that persuaded your senses to the speed with which he took control and stayed on top, face closer to yours than before, almost making your lips brush. Before he could think about moving away, your arms wrapped around his neck and maintained the proximity between your faces. You wanted to kiss him, or rather, you wanted him to kiss you passionately.

“Kiss me, my dragon.”

The restraint that imprisoned Aemond's wild nature broke with the nickname he received and made him capture your lips in a dominant and fierce kiss, the kiss you've wanted so much since you woke up that day. His hips began to move against yours in a much more fluid way than the other times, fucking you with deliciously intense impulses, without roughness or softness.

He started another wet and sloppy kiss, sucking your lips before sinking his face into your neck and growling against his skin, then planting kisses. “Are you enjoying it, my lady?”

“Y-yes, my prince, yes, go faster!” You moaned and supported your legs on his waist, letting out an almost small scream when the speed of your impulses increased, numbing your senses. The nervousness of bringing pleasure to his wife was dissipated when all he could feel was the constant friction and the way you squeezed him so well.

Flying in wet and pleasurable clouds, you gently held the back of his neck and sneaked to smell his soft and well-groomed silver hair, purring with the addictive and extremely refreshing musk. His heart warmed timidly with your intimate gesture, caving your beautiful face with one hand and touching his foreheads to make love to you in such a unique and vehement way that it made your toes curl and a feeling bloom inside, developing with each push of his hips.

"Beautiful," he uttered contemplating his face kneaded with pleasure, "you're fucking beautiful, my lady wife."

“Really?” You knew it was, but you wanted him to affirm it from his own belief.

“Yes, a lot,” He was fucking lucky to have you. He should say that.

The tingling inside increased with his confession, building something you hadn't felt yet. Was it your dreamed apex germinating? The feeling that your friends elected as the best of all Westeros? He captured your mouth again in a firm but sloppy kiss at the same time, swallowing your lascivious moans and whining intensifies with each roll of hips.

His pleasure also became difficult to ignore, although he was proud that the act was being more profitable and lasting than the other times. Profitable? No, I was delusional.

The connection between you became steamy every second, causing your future supplication: "continue husband, please don't stop."

There was a certain affected region that made your fingers squirm and gasps of pleasure fill your chambers (and maybe even out of them). The recurrence with which Aemond brushed against that point amplified your pleasure and anticipated the hot euphoria that took over your body, making your sight clear and legs cage him when your high came devastatingly good and strong, causing tremor in your limbs and an absolute squeeze in your cunt around his masculinity.

It was the best thing that has ever hit your body in fact, and that caused the release of his seed on your core in erratic movements and an erotic grunt. The nature of the sensation seemed primitive, it was primitive, as a need that needed to be satiated more often. Your bodies were sweaty when he fell to your side with his eyes closed from recent pleasure, bubbling in deep flames like the Old Valyria.

A more than satisfied smile adorned your face with how indescribably good you felt. Not only physically, but your husband's performance softened part of your fear, only one part, the other unfortunately ascended in equity and sowed doubts in your heart. What if the sweetness in his words was only in the heat of the moment? What if he doesn't think you're pretty?

After a moment of comfortable silence you decided to risk it in a low, almost weak voice "... did you really mean those things? About my beauty?" Gods, you didn't want to look pathetic.

And he didn't want to be an absent husband. "Yes," he confessed in a hoarse and soporific voice, almost ashamed of his attitude. "I'm sorry I don't say that as often as you deserve to hear. You're breathtaking, ma'am." His good eye filtered all the reactions from your face carefully. “I'm very lucky to have you by my side.

And nothing was more radiant than your smile when he heard such loving and beautiful statements, daring to snuggle against his chest even though he had a thin layer of sweat. "Your words are nothing more than kind, my prince, I am very grateful to hear them," you began, "you are also a very handsome man," you smoothed the bruised side of his face with the palm of your hand, not getting close to the scar to scare him. "Almost ethereal if I may say," your face was close to his, looking tenderly before leaning against his lips in a chaste and soft kiss.

Compliments directed at appearance were never true to Aemond. Not that he received them too much after the incident, but all the rare times were false, regrettable and uncomfortable. His abilities made him a man safe enough not to care mostly about his deformity, however, in his interior of steel and fire there was a fraction that longed for genuine kindness.

"You are very kind, my lady," he said softly, his voice almost breaking, "did you like what happened?" The thought was almost all verbalized at once, taking not only you but also him by surprise.

“A lot. I liked it a lot, Aemond," you purred against him, feeling your interior warm and vibrate again. "If it's not inappropriate, I wish we could do it again."

That would be a long night...

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taglists:

general: @chompchompluke @fan-goddess @kravitzwhore @partypoison00

ewanverse: @aemonds-fire @partypoison00 @schniiipsel @fan-goddess

aemond: @aemondsblog

#aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen smut #aemond x reader #prince aemond targaryen #aemond one eyed #aemond targaryen x you #aemond x you #aemond smut #aemond targaryen x wife!reader #aemond x wife reader #wife reader #smut

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nonsensefromtheabyss · 8 months

Text

Alastor Analysis

(Throwing my hat into the ring because the smiley fucker has me in a headlock. Warning; long and potentially insane. God I hope the cut works.)

I think something significant is gonna go down with Alastor in the next few episodes. I think the man is slipping.

Something that sticks out to me on rewatch is that Husk isn’t worried by the lights flickering or Alastor’s voice changing (the usual signs of him getting vicious.) He doesn’t look scared when the collar appears; his initial order of reactions actually goes ‘surprised’, ‘bitch please’, and then he starts doing damage control. It takes Alastor pulling on the chain to make him stop and actually look at how angry the overlord actually is. It says a lot to me that Husk’s first reaction is to be pissed off. He looks like he’s recognising that his bitchy demon master isn’t going to take any advice and he’s gonna be made to back off—and he’s angry about that.

To detail, the fact that he approaches Alastor directly with his concerns and not Charlie (you know; the all-powerful, hotel owning, hell princess whose daddy’s in town), and puts the focus on him possibly getting into trouble means that Husk did all this out of a sense of concern or compassion. Husk isn’t acting purely in the interests of the hotel here, he’s trying to protect Alastor. This is a genuine offer of advice being thrown in Husk’s face for no apparent reason beyond arrogance; he has every right to be pissed off, and he is. He’s angry with Alastor and he shows that even as he’s shutting up. Angry, not scared.

Husk bitching about Alastor isn’t unusual. He cares enough to try and help the bastard out. The way he interacts with the conversation initially indicates to me that means he normally feels safe enough to do things like this. He’s comfortable calling his master out. He’s doing his best to stop Alastor making some kind of mistake. He is trusted with the information that Alastor isn’t a free man himself. When the chain appears, he’s frustrated, he cedes ground… but he isn’t scared.

I don’t think Alastor manifesting Husk’s chains is unheard of in their relationship—Alastor’s a mean bitch who only tolerates a little bit of poking before he snaps—but I do think that the pulling of that chain is usually as bad as it gets. That’s the point where Husk stops talking but hasn’t started looking worried yet. Husk was probably fully expecting that being knocked to the floor would be the end of the matter.

He’s scared—the most scared we’ve ever seen him—only after Alastor goes Radio Demon on him, and that’s why I think it’s something he’s never had happen before. Husk wasn’t expecting that degree of reaction at all. And I think it’s a sign that Alastor is starting to lose it.

We know the smile is fake. We know it’s a form of self-imposed self-discipline that’s as rigid as it is insane. And we now have it confirmed that Alastor has some pretty aggressive insecurities that are eating away at him behind the facade. Last time he was seen as ‘less than’ he slaughtered hide way to the top of the Pride Ring

Going episode by episode, there’s a subtle pattern of Alastor getting progressively more snubbed, which isn’t really what you expect when you’re introduced to the character in the Pilot. Vaggie describes him as someone of almost mythic power and, even with Angel’s levity and irreverence, that’s the impression that sticks, cemented by the way he takes out Sir Pentious. You get an immediate impression of what Alastor was like at the very top of his game.

You know: before the Seven Year Absence.

In the first episode, there’s the advert. The video advert. It’s all played for jokes (as it should be) but if you look at it as a first domino it makes sense. It’s our reintroduction to Alastor as a character: he’s made a terrible, unhelpful tv commercial and the ‘good’ one (we never get to see) was made with significant help. He clearly loathes having to do it, and he’s clearly got no real skill in it (if he did, he’d be showing off because he’s unbearably vain, you all know this is true.) He’s out of his element and he’s not adjusting quickly enough; people don’t know him from the radio anymore because Vox has the monopoly in entertainment.

Speaking of, in the Second Episode, we get Vox, aka the first and only person who gives a damn where deer boy went. Vox gives this shit by playing dress up and writing a diss track which Alastor immediately co-opts to make him rage quit. The song slaps—Alastor’s part in the song slaps… but it’s worth pointing out that Vox is the only person shown caring that The Radio Demon is back; the other two V’s are mildly entertained because they have renewed lease to absolutely dunk on Vox, and, while the crowds are drawn to the radio, they don’t look… bothered. There’s no big reaction of ‘dear god, it’s him (the deer god)’. Granted, we don’t see their response to the threat, but tbh if any radio threatens you with a return to The Bad Old Days the only honest reaction is to be a little scared, you don’t need to be in Hell for that.

In any case, regardless of how much he sucked at it, Vox still felt confident enough to make his little coping track public in the first place. He felt certain enough about Alastor’s lack of standing to make his own insecurities into a musical. The cultural idea of Alastor and his mythos has degraded enough for people to take potshots and then broadcast those potshots for funnsies. It’s pretty far from where we started in the Pilot with Vaggie not even wanting him past the door.

Third Episode… people of the conference room, please raise your right hand if you care why this staticky twink has been gone for seven years. *cue the deafening silence of no hands being raised*

Alastor is shut down and dismissed entirely in front of every other overlord at once, and it happens without consequence. He can’t do dick. He can’t play up the mystery, or draw them in to his narrative, or do anything to take control of the room. No one asked, no one cares. The meeting (which, if Carmine’s surprise at seeing him there is any indicator, he might not have even been directly invited to) moves on. I’m almost certain that the only reason he played coy with Zestial was because he thought he could have that Moment with everyone there and listening. He wants so desperately to be listened to.

We know that the hierarchies in Hell are less about who could actually make you eat concrete and more a popularity contest. That’s made explicitly clear in the first episode with low level sinners tearing strips off of Charlie, and clearer still in Helluva Boss where Stolas gets disrespected by the whole club for his messy personal business—in song form. And what I’ve not actually seen anyone else talking much about is how Alastor may be a very physically powerful demon but he’s getting no respect from any of his old peers. Sure, maybe the masses are spooked, but it’s not to the point where it’s making anyone else lose their chokehold. The people huddled around his radio still flick their eyes back to Vox’s screens when he talks. The egg boys ask him inane personal questions the same way they would anyone else. His own peers neither respect him nor care that he’s come back. Nobody has shown (positive) interest in the hotel now that it’s his personal enterprise.

We’re told the time skip was five months. We have no idea if things have changed in those five months, but Alastor starts Episode 5 palpably agitated. I’m guessing things didn’t go up for him. I’m guessing that it’s setting in for him that this is the vibe now, and the only person who actually thinks him untouchable is, well, him.

Add Lucifer. Suddenly, his business partner might not actually need him at all, either as help or an emotional connection, because she can replace them with her father, the actual king of Hell, who doesn’t like him; there’s an infinitely more powerful and capable demon in what is functionally Alastor’s home; said powerful demon has no fucking clue who Alastor even is, the role he plays, or the effort he’s invested (regardless of reason) into Charlie’s project, and there is no Alastor Approved way of making any respect happen on that front. As far as he’s concerned, he’s looking at a brick wall with FUCK YOU PERSONALLY graffitied on it.

Regarding the songs with Alastor in them, both of them are serving two purposes; the first is to piss off someone who slighted him, but I think the second is to reassert to everyone present his importance specifically after an instance of them forgetting. With Vox the primary objective is roasting the other overlord into shut down and the secondary is warning everyone listening that he’s still a viable threat despite what they just heard. With Lucifer, the first goal is to piss harder than the devil, but the second is reminding Charlie that he’s important and he has a place with them. Little as he’d like to admit it, it’s two cases of Alastor demanding a return to the way things usedto be. He wants to be the most terrifying thing on the wavelengths by default, and is willing to short out the power supply to all Hell to get that; he wants to be valued so much by the people around him that the most important man in Hell can’t just supplant him by being there. Obviously it doesn’t work out like that, but a self-absorbed nightmare man can dream.

And then Husk brings up the idea that he might be vulnerable on top of All That. It’s the final straw. He has spent the last few episodes very subtly scrabbling for a shred of acknowledgement and his bitch ass is getting none.

Mimzy, if I’m allowed to speculate a little, is deliberately thrown into the mix at this juncture because of how she relates to Alastor in juxtaposition to the damage his seven year absence and unspecified deal has done to his reputation; she wants to hide behind his coattails because he’s the big, scary Radio Demon who can protect her from anything, because who in their right mind would cross him? She’s literally a part of his old life. She’s reacting to him the way everyone did seven years ago—with complete and total faith in his ability to be an unholy monster at a moment’s notice.

Being told ‘hey, maybe she’s in deeper shit than you can shovel because someone’s tying your hands’ is, to Alastor, just another snub in a long, illustrious line, and this time it’s personal because it’s coming from Husk. It’s not just a newly popular medium he’s no good with, or Vox with his haterection, or a meeting he can’t derail with his personal life, or a boardroom full of equals he newly means nothing to—it’s his own people thinking he’s not capable anymore. And Husk is happy to say that with literally the most powerful man in Hell right there for comparisons in inadequacy. Going full dial eyes on him isn’t just an over-vicious retaliation, it’s a demonstration and reminder of what Alastor is capable of… and it’s probably done for himself as much as it’s about putting Husk back in his place.

Because that’s what Alastor used to be able to do; make all the other overlords cower on their knees at his feet while he regaled them with all the ways in which they could fuck off.

Seven years of possibly not entirely voluntary absence… and this is the closest to that he can get. A guy whose soul he owns, who will be back to snarking in a few days time, having to be dragged into prostrating himself on the carpet. One of the few people who inexplicably give a shit about him promising to shut up only on pain of death.

And at the end of the episode everything he’s done means nothing and he has to tell Mimzy to leave anyway… and he’s subdued and uncomfortable about it. She’s his friend, one of the few people willing to tolerate him, and apparently one of the last people to share the perception he has of himself… and he has to tell her to go because the reality is that he, for whatever reason, is not making choices which are entirely his own. The reality is that Husk may be right; Alastor’s grip on everything and everyone around him is, for a variety of reasons, not as strong as it used to be. The guy is unravelling behind the mask; he’s insufferably proud and it’s starting to strangle him.

The point of all this is, there’s a pattern of escalation here. I think Alastor is out of his depth and it’s going to start showing. I think he’s going to make some sort of desperate bid for control to get his standing back. I think he’s going to have to reckon with his own disappearance. And… I don’t think it’s gonna be pretty.

TLDR: My Beloved is a time bomb and him dominating Husk was just the alarm going off. I believe this with my whole heart because of Reasons.

(Side note: I think it’s been sidelined and/or cut due to season constraints and the show being rushed to shit by production, but I do believe Charlie and Al must have some kind of bond. It’s been five months of living together and she doesn’t turn around and refute his claims or even look surprised by them, which implies to me that the events are true if not the presentation. Obviously the girl’s got daddy issues and Al doesn’t actually see her as a daughter, but I really don’t think that equals ‘there’s no fond feelings here at all.’ Plus everyone else is there watching their nonsense; while Alastor has 0% shame, I’m pretty sure someone else (Vaggie) would have something to say if him claiming affection for Charlie was as left field for them as it was for us. Really wish we had more time for relaxed character interactions to let dynamics breathe, there was such potential in HH’s concepts but I feel like we’re skipping whole chunks. I want the dumb beach episode, you know?)

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel analysis #hazbin hotel alastor #This man has been stuck in my skull for days #Scraping behind my eyes with a teaspoon to get rid of him #I just feel like he’s gonna snap at some point #He looks like he’s going to break his fucking teeth smiling like that and it’s going to happen soon #Everyone so worried about the extermination #Bitches should be worried about this idiot cracking under massive internal pressure and wasting all Hell to make himself feel special again

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missadangel · 8 days

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The Heart of Rome (Marcus Acacius x Reader)

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Chapter 2: The Letter

"Omnia, quae fiunt, eveniunt ut oportet; et si diligenter observaveris, hoc ita esse invenies." M. Aurelius

“Everything that happens, happens as it should, and if you observe carefully, you will find this to be so.”

The carriage shook from time to time as it traveled along the stony roads of the capital. Octavius was sitting across, glancing at you out of the corner of his eye as you peered out from under the curtain, eager to see where you were being taken. You had many questions, but you were hesitant to ask him directly. After all, in their eyes, you were just an ordinary woman with the status of a slave.

But as you watched outside, you realized that you were more fortunate than other women of the same status. Instead of being taken away in a cart like you, they were dragged, beaten, and forcibly taken away in chains.

As the carriage approached a huge rounded building, you opened your mouth in astonishment. It had to be the Colosseum, you had heard so much about it, but you never expected it to be this huge. This massive structure was so magnificent that it was truly pushing the limits of the human mind. It was fascinating, frightening, and amazing.

You stood in awe of the most intriguing structure on the streets of Rome until it disappeared from view. Then, with a sigh, you turned your head in the direction the cart was going. After passing insulas, temples, aqueducts, fountains, and gardens, you drove through a large wooded area. The car began to sway noticeably as the terrain shifted from stones to dirt and grass. Then, a large villa appeared in front of you.

Unlike the sand-colored villas in the Egyptian lands, this one was almost white and had a crimson herb-colored roof. At the entrance to the garden, the tall white columns holding up the roof were decorated with various figures and reliefs. It was extraordinarily beautiful, and as you looked around for a long time you were surprised to realize that Octavius had already gotten out of the cart and was waiting for you to come out.

"My lady," you were even more surprised when he offered you his hand.

You lifted the hem of your cloak and carefully stepped down from the carriage.

"I am not a lady, sir," you gripped the handle of your bag tightly instead of taking his hand.

Octavius withdrew his hand and looked at you in confusion.

"I know, I didn't want to address you as a slave, you are so much more."

On the outside, this burly man had a stern temperament that was not to be crossed, but he was very kind.

"That's all right, sir, I appreciate your kindness, may I ask you something if I don't overstep my bounds?"

He nodded.

“Why am I here? Why did the General buy me?”

Obviously, he didn't care about you for ten days, why did he suddenly remember you and bring you to his villa, you wondered.

"Ask him when he arrives, I was only supposed to bring you here, I must leave now as I have completed my mission."

"Sir!"

A middle-aged, chubby woman ran up to you, and from the way she looked at him, you realized that she knew Octavius very well. She was about to ask him something, but she turned her head and looked you up and down, her eyes wide with astonishment.

"A slave? Or did the emperors send her as a gift to our master again?"

You took a step back, your eyes wide with panic, and turned your head to Octavius.

A gift? What did she mean by that, you asked yourself.

“No, they didn't send her. The general bought her from the slaver,” Octavius stated firmly as he strode towards the carriage. "Show her to her room and make her comfortable. I have to go now."

"Yes, sir," she said, then turned her head to you.

But you were looking at the carriage speeding away, feeling abandoned by his departure.

“Hurry up, girl, inside with me. The General is almost here. You need to dress properly," she commanded, beckoning you with her hand.

You did as she said, and passed between the imposing columns, entered the garden with a large pool in the center which welcomed you with its sparkling water. The villa had a large courtyard and more than one garden. In the center of the square pool in this garden was a statue of Neptune holding a spear in his hand.

There were vines surrounding the tall white columns and short trees accompanying them, and in front of them, a fountain made of white marble. You listened to the sound of the water running through the fountain as you walked behind the woman. It seemed peaceful, but that was not exactly what you felt inside.

When you entered a small room, the woman called one of the other girls over. In this room, there were two wooden wardrobes and a large wooden chest. A young girl with red hair came running to you. The other woman grabbed you by the arm and looked at your clothes, her face disgusted.

“Dress this girl quickly, she must be ready before the master arrives,” she touched your hair and ran her fingers through it as if combing it. “She looks like she's had a bath, but her clothes look terrible, get rid of them when you're done,” she said as if giving orders. It was obvious that she was in charge of things here, maybe because of his age.

The girl opened the closet door and took out a white silk and tulle fabric. You took out your bag and put it aside, but you were not comfortable. After all, there was something very important in your bag.

"Are you nervous?" the girl asked you curiously when the other woman left.

"A little, but about what?"

"About spending the night with the General," she said, lowering her voice.

You looked at her in shock. ‘I'm certainly not here for that,’ your voice trembled with anger.

The girl let out a little sigh as she helped you get undressed. You felt uneasy, but she was so kind and gentle. ”He won't touch you anyway,” she opened the wardrobe and took a piece of fabric in her arm. “He’s never touched any of the girls the emperors have sent for him. They've all been sent away the next day."

"Why is that?" Your voice boomed in the small room, couldn't help but wonder why a man would refuse such a thing.

The girl laughed at your reaction, and you smiled back shyly. She stood in front of you, draped the wool fabric dress over your shoulders, letting it drop over your breasts, and tied it to the belt around your waist. Your arms and neckline were bare, and you covered your wrist with your hand, but it was clear she didn't care about the bruise. "Nobody's sure, but we think it might be because of his wife whom he divorced a long time ago. He's a noble and decent man. I'm sure he'll treat you well, just like he treats all of us.”

"He bought me, not the emperor," you stated assertively, tugging at the belt around your waist and trying to feel comfortable.

"Did he? That’s even more strange. He hasn't bought any new slaves for a long time." The girl touched your hair, combing it with her fingers and gathering a strand on the right side before fastening it with a thin hairpin. "But maybe it's because you are so beautiful," she said, smiling at you warmly. "Where are you from?”

"I grew up in Alexandria, but as far as I know, I am Roman, an orphan," you stated confidently. "You don't look like Roman though."

The girl smiled but her eyes held a hint of sadness. "I was taken as a captive of war at the age of fourteen, but I tried to escape, and the slaver beat me to death." She took a deep breath and continued. “I would have died on those cold cobblestones if he had not been kind enough to buy me and let me live in his villa here.”

You suddenly realized that your story didn't seem as bad as hers. You felt sorry for her.

"I apologize," you said sincerely.

She had a warm smile, and warm brown eyes, her hair was a mixture of red and orange, and she had freckles on her face, she was friendly and one of the nicest people you would meet in a long time. She touched your shoulder with a warm smile.

"The General isn't as harsh and ruthless as he seems. If he brought you here, he must like you. You're lucky."

“But he's never met me,” you said suddenly. There was no situation in which he could have liked you. In fact, he almost broke your wrist because he thought you were the enemy.

That's why you were worried. You wanted to believe he was a good man, but your instincts told you otherwise.

"I'm Norell, by the way," she said, smiling.

"I've never heard that name before," you said, raising your eyebrows.

"It means from the north. I'm from Scandinavia. Do you have a name?"

You wanted to tell her the name your uncle and his wife had given you, but the woman from earlier came over and scolded you both a little for stalling. When she tried to take your bag, you resisted strongly and held it in your arms.

She frowned at you and pointed to the bag, "It looks old and dirty. Put it where you will stay, out of my sight. Norell, show her where she'll be staying. I have to check the kitchen.”

"Yes, Tullia," she said as she led you out of the room. You touched your new clothes as you walked into another room. These clothes were ordinary clothes that any slave would wear, but for you they were unusual. You'd always worn men's clothes when you were with your uncle. You'd never let your hair hang over your shoulders outside the house. That's why you almost like dressing like that if you ignore the fact that your neck and shoulders are completely exposed.

"This way," Norell said, pointing to a room that was slightly larger than the last one. There were two mattresses a large wooden chest and a small closet in the corner. She pointed to one of the mattresses against the wall.

"You can sleep here.”

It wasn't the most comfortable option, but it was far superior to the beds in the Valetudinarium. You sat down and put your bag under the blanket. Meanwhile, she was observing you curiously.

"It's what's left of my family," you explained.

"Don't worry, I would never touch your things," she assured you. You trusted her, even though you'd only just met. But you'd promised your uncle about the letter, so you tucked it under the mattress when she left the room. You were eager to open it, but you wanted to make sure you were completely alone first.

While you were sitting there, you realized how tired you were. You didn't know if it was the effect of traveling with the ship, but your head still felt like it was shaking. Your body was almost collapsing when you noticed a cat outside the window.

Since you grew up in Egypt, you had a cat in your old house too, that looked just like this cat, was dark black with beautiful green eyes. You called it over with your hand, but it ran ahead, towards another garden in the courtyard so you ran excitedly to it.

As you followed her at a brisk pace, you couldn't fit through the gap the cat could, so you entered through the wooden gate of this separate garden, fortunately, it was open. It's a beautiful garden with many herbs, plants and flowers. You distinctly remember using the hypericum (St. John's wort) plant with your uncle on many occasions. This is a medicinal plant with healing properties. You sat on the grass and picked a bunch of hypericum. You crushed the leaves with your fingertips and rubbed the bruises on your wrist with the liquid that came out. Then the cat brushes its tail against your feet. You take her in your arms, sit her on your lap, and begin stroking her head feeling her soft hair under your fingers making you feel peaceful. But you were exhausted and could not keep your eyes open, so you lay down and closed them.

As the general arrived at his villa, the sun was preparing to bid farewell to the capital of Rome. He had barely sat down since he stepped ashore. He was tired, yes, but also filled with an indescribable excitement. He tried to remember why or when he had felt this way for so long, but he couldn't even remember. He had been on the road for months, on his way to Egypt to put down the rebellion. He had finally succeeded, but it had exhausted him. Moreover, being assassinated and wounded on the way back, and having one of his soldiers mutiny while he was recovering, was not something an ordinary man could handle. He touched his wound through his leather armor and felt grateful to one who healed him. Even though his body was so tired, he was determined to meet this girl.

Tullia greeted him with a happy smile and ran to him.

“Sir! You're home at last! I sacrificed three pigs to Mars to ensure your safe return!”

Acacius smiled at her and stepped out of the carriage, his eyes fixed on the garden of his villa. "Tullia, the girl Octavius brought here today, I want to see her." His voice was firm and impatient.

"Yes, master, he did. She's inside. Come in."

Acacius strode into the garden, leaving the squire struggling to keep up. He looked around but couldn't find what he was looking for. "I don't see her, Tullia. Where is she?"

Tullia swallowed, "My lord, she was here. I'll find her," she said as she started to leave, but Acacius stopped her by raising his hand.

"Send her to my room and prepare my bath," he ordered, heading for the stone stairs leading to his room.

Everyone mobilized to find you at once and prepare their master's bath.

His squire entered Acacius's room and helped him remove his armor. Once he was finished, he left the room. Acacius removed the shin guards from his knees and took a deep breath, now wearing only his burgundy tunic. He felt relieved but still impatient and decided to go out onto the balcony to watch the scenery. He was thinking about you when he gazed at the gorgeous city in the distance. He smiled to himself as he recalled his first experience of falling in love. He had assumed that he would never feel that way again, ever since he had turned his back on love. He was convinced that Venus’s son Cupid would never grant him a new love. All this time he thought of himself as an unlucky lover, punished by Mars, the god of war. Mars had endowed him with the ability to fight, he wondered if it was because love could be his weak point. He was about to find out.

As he made his way inside, he noticed something in the garden below that caught his eye. He noticed a young girl with golden hair, resting on the green grass in the garden that bordered his chambers.

Acacius made his way down the stairs of his balcony, his heart beating faster with each step, filled with excitement and curiosity. As he made his way down the last step and drew closer to you, he was a little disappointed to see your eyes were closed. He was curious to see those eyes he'd seen in the tent before. He approached you and leaned in, looking at the beautiful girl sleeping peacefully, waiting for you to open your eyes, just as you were waiting for him then. He looked at your wrist and, gently grasping it, was pleased to see the bruises. His fingers matched the purple spots, as if they were meant to be there.

You felt pressure on your wrist where the bruise was. You opened your eyes, not because of the pain, but because you were already dreaming about it, remembering that moment. When you realized that his face was just a few inches away from yours, you opened your eyes wide in surprise. You wondered if you were still dreaming. His dark brown eyes had taken over yours, making it impossible to look away. Then his perfectly-shaped lips curled into a wide smile.

"So it was you," he said with soft voice.

You were rendered speechless. You attempted to rise to your feet, but he grasped your shoulders gently, maintaining eye contact with you.

"I made a mistake. I apologize," you mumbled.

"Mistake? You healed me, so there's no mistake or reason to apologize.” He smirked and stood up, holding out his hand. Despite your initial hesitation, you took his hand and got to your feet.

"I shouldn't have slept here like this," you said, embarrassed, as you shook your dress out to get rid of the leaves and dirt.

“It was such a treat to watch,” he smiled at your surprised face and turned around heading to the stairs. "Come with me," he beckoned you, not asking, but commanding.

You followed him without complaint, though your tension has increased. Acacius entered his room and waited for you to come in. As you entered from the balcony, you saw the armor he had just taken off on the right. Beyond that was a desk and chair, then a small table and two chairs, and in the other corner, a large bed and a closet.

Tullia came in with a tray of food, knocking on the door of his room first.

She opened her eyes in surprise when she saw you.

"I've been looking for you all over. What have you been up to?"

Before you could respond, he ordered, "Leave us alone and let me know when the bath is ready.”

“Yes master," she said, giving you a quick look before she left.

"Are you hungry?" he asked while pouring wine into a cup.

You shook your head no but it was a lie, your eyes were on the food, swallowing. He smirked, sat down in a chair, and took a sip of wine. "Sit," he indicated the chair opposite him with a gesture.

When you didn't, he frowned. "I know you're hungry. Come," he said, his voice unyielding this time.

You approached and sat across from him, avoiding eye contact meanwhile.

"Eat," he commanded, pointing to the spoon.

You took a spoonful of food you had never seen before, but it looked delicious. As soon as you put it in your mouth and swallowed, you felt the bite reach your empty stomach. Realizing how hungry you were, you quickly took another bite, surprised even by yourself.

He watched you closely, his eyes were on your hands. With a quick move, he grabbed your other hand gently, and placed it in his palm, as if measuring sizes. "These fingers are too thin to be a medicus," he muttered, looking at you. "How did you become a medicus? It must have been very difficult for you as a woman."

As you swallowed the morsel, he poured another glass of wine and handed it to you. You were taken aback by his unexpected politeness, but took the cup from his hand, then took a quick sip.

"My uncle taught me everything I know, sir," you confessed.

"This Medicus was your uncle?"

"He was, yes," you almost whispered, the mention of him having renewed your pain. He studied your face, reading your expression.

"May the Gods bless his soul and grant him sustenance in Elysium. I’ve never met him, but thanks to his knowledge I am still breathing, I will be grateful to him until the last moment of my life.”

As he speaks, you sense a sincerity in his voice that helps to ease your pain a little. You are surprised that you do not feel the same resentment towards him as you did before. His words seem to console you.

“You're not his slave, then. Who are you?"

He looked at you with unwavering eyes, waiting for your answer.

“I am Aya the orphan, a girl who was found on the banks of the Nile when little and raised by the man I called uncle, sir,” you stated frankly, but he appeared perplexed.

Acacius leaned back, still looking at you ‘Aya’ he murmured himself. ‘It's a name I've never heard before, I wish to know its meaning.’ He crossed his arms.

“This name I was given to me by my uncle and his deceased wife means ‘miracle.’ I believe they thought I was sent to them by the Gods.” You looked at him, feeling uneasy. “I think it’s-.”

“It's beautiful,” he completed your sentence in his way, and you took another sip from your cup, feeling his eyes still on you.

“You said you were an orphan? You don't know your mother or father? Your uncle must have found out why they abandoned you in the river.”

You shook your head, you didn't know, but he didn't seem to be satisfied with that answer. He put his cup down on the table, then stood up and walked over to you.

"Your uncle, or the man who found you, raised you as a medicus until this age. You probably had to wear men's clothes all the time. He let you live as a man, not as a woman. More, he never wanted you to marry a man," you noticed that he said the word 'marry' in a different tone. You felt like he was interrogating you also startled as he knelt beside you. "Like he's hiding you from something or someone.”

He was waiting for an answer, but his face being so close made you tense up. You had to take a moment before answering him.

“I was pleased with helping other people, curing them as a medicus, sir. He never forced me to do anything I don’t want to.” You were confident and sincere, and he could hear it in your tone.

He stood up abruptly, “I see,” he murmured still thinking about it. There was a knock at the door. They informed him that his bath was ready. "I want you to accompany me," he said suddenly, his smile making your heart race but you were trying to figure out the best way to decline his offer gently and respectfully.

"Sir, I-“

“Since I’m so tired, I want you to help me bathe, and as my medicus, you should check my wound, right?”

"That makes me your medicus as well as your slave," you frowned at him.

He approached you with a bold move that made you jump, but he had a mischievous look on his face. "I'm gonna have to get completely undressed for both, so."

Your cheeks flushed and you tried to look away, but you knew he was right and you hated it.

He opened the door and gestured for you to follow him, you took a deep breath and followed him. Norell smiled when she noticed you going downstairs, but you couldn't smile back, following him to the bathhouse made you nervous.

As you moved from the courtyard to the other, to the west wing, you could tell by the smells that the kitchen was there. It’s because of the hot water circulation, just opposite the kitchen was the balneum (small bath house). There was no separate bath house in your uncle's small house, so you had to go to the Egyptian bath house three or four times a week to bathe.

Tullia pushed the door open for you two to enter. Acacius told her to leave you two alone and closed the door after you entered. The hot water was ready, and the balneum was filled with the scent of various oils and essences that dissipated in the steam with the heat of the water. Since you were well-versed in herbs, you could easily tell which scents belonged to which flowers by their aroma.

When you saw Acacius heading for the bathtub, you clenched your dress in your hands. It was scorching hot inside and you were sweating buckets. He turned to you, and you knew from the look in his eyes that he was asking you to come closer. You walked towards him, trying your best not to think about anything else but his wound. He grabbed your fingers and led them to the hem of his burgundy tunic, making you grasp it. He watched you patiently as you tried to stay calm, pulling the tunic up to check his wound. He seemed to enjoy it when he noticed you were tense.

“I need to take it off completely. Could you?" he said in a soft, gentle voice.

You took a deep breath and pulled the tunic from his head with trembling hands, letting it fall to the ground, trying to ignore the fact that he was completely naked in front of you. You concentrated on his abdomen where his wound was, trying not to look down at his lower parts. As your fingers traced his abdomen to check his wound, his eyes wandered over your face, admiring your beauty.

“It is almost completely healed on the surface, sir, but it may take a little longer to heal completely from the inside. If you feel any pain or inflammation, I may need to make a herbal ointment,” you said as your eyes caught by his.

He brought his face closer to yours and you felt the heat radiating from his lips. You could feel the steamy air and your sweat making your dress a little damp. His hot breath caressed your neck, making your heart race and you almost gave yourself to him to take you, but you managed to pull yourself back.

Acacius chuckled, turned, and sat down in the bathtub. The water rose with his weight, and some flowers floating on the surface hit the edge.

He seemed to relax, threw his head back, and closed his eyes, making a gesture with his hand.

“Rub my back a little, maybe your soft, healing hands can take away some of the pain.”

“That sounds more like the work of a slave than a medic," you muttered, he ignored you but you could see his lips curl into a half smile.

When you touched his shoulders with your fingers he sighed, you tried not to care but he seemed strangely pleased, a soft moan escaping his lips as you rubbed in gentle strokes. Your eyes traced the scars on his body, wondering how he got them.

“The God Asclepius must have endowed you with his healing powers," he purred. How can I repay the owner of these fingers that healed me?”

Suddenly, you stop rubbing his back and glare at his face behind his partially curly and gray hair, trying to think of something to say.

“I wish you would set me free," you bit your lower lip, wondering if it was too much to ask.

Acacius opened his eyes. "You have no family to go to, do you wish to return to your home and live all alone?

He was right. Even if you went back to your home, you wouldn't have an uncle or anyone to live with. You had to face this truth and you hated it. He turned his head to you, "Shall I give you a chance to choose?”

You tilted your head to look at him, the steamy air making your throat dry.

“If you don't want to be my slave, why don't you live here as my medicus? I am a soldier and a warrior, I may need your help in the future.” As he turned his body fully towards you in the tub, some of the squashed water ran out and soaked the hem of your dress.

“Wouldn't you stay here to heal me?”

“But I am a woman, sir, I cannot be a medicus, no one would call me that.”

“As long as you are under my roof, you will be called that,” he said in a reassuring tone.

“But I will remain your slave outside this roof?”

“You will, yes.”

“And will you set me free one day?”

“No,” he said loudly, his voice echoed off the marble walls.

When you sighed and pouted, his large hand cupped your chin, then slowly slid to your neck to your shoulder, moving to the fabric of your dress, clearly trying to gauge your reaction meanwhile. You grabbed his hand and stopped it as he peeled the fabric over your shoulder, "I choose to be your medicus, not your slave, sir.”

“Very well,” Acacius snickered, grabbed your wrist this time, and looked closely at the bruise. “It seems to be healing,” his fingers rubbing your bruise, somehow you didn’t feel angry, you liked it when he touched you with his big strong fingers like only they can heal it.

“I won't touch you against your will,” he assured you. Then he pulled his hand away and laid back, closed his eyes again. “You may leave now,” he said coldly as if trying to calm himself.

You were grateful, but you couldn't ignore the feeling of his absence on your skin. But you did as he said, left him alone in the balneum and went out. You shivered as the fresh air hit your almost wet body as Norell approached you with dry and clean clothes in her arms.

“Is he coming out?”

“No, he asked me to leave him alone.” You wiped the sweat from your forehead with the back of your hand.

That night in your new room under the roof of your new home, after a long talk with her, you waited patiently for Norell to fall asleep, but your eyes were so heavy you couldn't keep them open any longer.

You were planning to open the letter when you woke up, but you never got around to it. It was not as easy as it seemed to be alone in this big villa.

But since you saw the General leaving the house in a hurry in the morning, you knew his room was the best place to be. No one could get into his room while he was away, and this was your only chance. You were told he would be back late in the evening, so you had time to open the letter.

You weren't sure what to expect, but you were determined to find out. You considered the possibility that your true family might be wealthy or even royal. But why did they want to push you away or abandon you? What did the previous emperor's seal mean? Why did he seal with his own? Was it normal for him to put his own seal on every letter? There were so many possibilities and questions but you were tired of thinking. You were going to open it as soon as possible, find out everything, and move on.

In the villa, everyone was preoccupied with their morning chores, so it was simple to slip away unnoticed. You were already on a mission to collect the dirty laundry and bring it downstairs to the wash, so you had a good excuse if you got caught.

You strode into the general's room, took a quick look around, and put the dirty laundry he had taken off into the laundry basket in your hand. Then you put the laundry basket aside and sat down on the floor next to it. When you were sure that no one was coming, you took out the letter you had tucked between your chest and the fabric of your dress and started to read.

You took a deep breath, carefully pulled and removed the rope around the letter without harming the seal, then lifted it, which belonged to the previous emperor Septimius Severus, and opened the letter. You saw the letters clearly written in neat handwriting.

“My dearest child, my beloved daughter blessed with golden hair and hazel eyes. The irises of your eyes are a soft brown hue, with a greenish tint, as if they contained the nascent growth of spring.

Gazing into your eyes, I see Rome, the beautiful and prosperous days that await her. You bestow joy and fortitude upon me, enabling me to actualize this vision. It is my ardent aspiration to ensure your collective felicity and to witness your growth and prosperity. It has been a considerable span of time since I lost your mother, my esteemed wife, the resplendent Paccia Marciana. I am yet to fully acclimate to her absence, but I had to remarry because I had to have an heir. I don't want to offend you, my pretty, golden-haired daughter. I do not intend to accuse you of being a girl. I hope you won't misunderstand me child, but I'm afraid it's not possible for you to stay in Rome. Julia is not as understanding as your mother Marciana. My son Geta is even less so. He is a very cruel boy. I am concerned that when I ascend to the Gods to the Elysium and he is on the throne, he may be troubled by your presence and do you harm. I cannot allow them to harm you in memory of your mother, so I must send you away from them, away from all. I have placed my old friend Vibius, the medicus from my youth, in the land of Egypt. I believe you will be safe with him. It would be best for you to be as far away from here as possible. I truly hope that Geta will rule Rome well. I am not entirely certain, but I sincerely wish to believe that he will.

And I hope that when you are a young girl, reading this letter, you will understand my reasons for sending you away. You are my firstborn child, my only daughter with spring eyes and golden hair, the first of the name Septimia Aurelia, who brought blessings to Rome the year she was born. And you will always remain so my sweet child.

Your father,

Imperator Caesar Lucius Septimius Severus Pertinax Augustus.”

You read each sentence again and again to make sure you hadn't read it wrong. Everything was correct. You closed your eyes and threw your head back, and you knew it was real, not imagined. You sat there, detached from time and reality, as tears rolled down your cheeks and dripped onto the letter you were holding with trembling hands. Your life began to pass before your eyes piece by piece, the lush green fields where you used to run around with joy as a little girl, the people you called uncle and aunt who raised you with love, always protecting you from the outside, keeping you away from other people, your uncle taking you on as an apprentice when you were very young and teaching you all his knowledge, buying you flashy girl's clothes on the condition that you only wear them at home when you wanted to wear them, insisting that you always wear a cloak when you went out in public, all of these were completed like the missing pieces that brought you back to where you belonged.

You wished you had never opened the letter, never imagining that the truth would hurt so much and leave you so helpless. You had no home to go to, your Empress mother and Emperor father were no longer alive. In their place were your Emperor brothers and their mother, your stepmother, and your father had warned you about them in no uncertain terms.

The word "Emperor" will forever hold a new meaning for you. Everything you knew, everything you learned, everything you lived, felt different now. But you were the same person. It was unreasonable to expect you to be anyone else, regardless of what your name was.

As you wiped away your tears, you heard voices outside and swiftly folded the letter back into its original shape. You didn't have time to hide it. Your first thought was to put it into the general's wooden chest full of papyrus, empty envelopes, and papers. You would come and get it later.

“What are you doing here?”

The last thing you expected to hear was the General's voice yet he was there, had opened the door looking at you curiously. He was wearing an all-white tunic, white leather armor and a white shawl that fluttered like angel wings in the wind behind his shoulders, all embroidered with gold. Seeing him like that you forgot the shock you just had, he was looking breathtaking. Suddenly you realized that you didn't answer his question, so you quickly picked up the basket. “I'm here to pick up the laundry, sir,” you said bowing your head, hoping he wouldn't be suspicious.

“I thought you chose to be a medicus and not a slave,” he said as he approached you. “Let the others do it, come with me now.” He grabbed your wrist and pulled you out of the room with a serious look on his face, hurried down the stairs, and stopped to call Norell out as he observed your clothes. "Dress her properly," he ordered.

While you were trying to figure out what was going on, Norell held your hand and led you to the dressing room to do his bidding. She opened the wardrobe took out some fabrics, all white, and placed them on a chair in the room. You couldn't help but ask when you saw that the clothes were different from the last time.

“Why am I wearing these?” you asked her curiously.

“Today's a bit special.”

You were startled to hear the General's voice just outside the door.

“And the color of the dress you're wearing has to match mine.”

How can I match his charm, you thought, it wasn’t possible.

You didn't mind being naked in front of Norell, but knowing the General was just outside the door made you a little nervous. Norell sensed your unease and giggled, then she helped you put on a white tunic, then a peplos (long dress) of the same color and a gold embroidered palla over your shoulders, then tied it around your slim waist and put the other part over your head. She was an expert, or so you felt because it was the first time you had ever worn this kind of dress. You felt as if the wish you had made as a little girl had come true. Norell combed your hair, first downwards and slightly side parted, then combed it again, then braided it, took a piece from the front left and twisted it round the back of your head. She secured the twist inside the braid by inserting a wire barrette inside the braid and finished the braid, letting it hang over one shoulder. When she was finished she looked at you and smiled, “You look beautiful. Now all that's left are the accessories.”

The General opened the door, he eyed you up to down, then grabbed your arm gently. He gestured to Norell, and soon she returned bearing a box containing a gold bracelet and assorted jewelry which produced a tinkling sound when she moved.

“Sir, these don't look like something a slave would wear,” you were surprised.

Acacius quickly put the bracelets on your upper arm and wrists. “My slave wears whatever I want,” he said firmly, his gaze fixed on you one last time, a confident smile on his face. You felt your cheeks flush, but the word ‘slave’ bothered you more than before. Yet you still couldn't be angry with the General, not when he was dressed like this.

“But where exactly are we going?”

“To the place where the ceremony will take place, then to the Colosseum. Come on, get your sandals on, we have to hurry.”

Norell appeared beside you, lifted your foot, and helped you quickly put on the sandals, despite your insistence.

“Looks pretty,” he pushed back a few strands of hair that had fallen on your forehead with a gentle touch then you weren't sure whether he was in a hurry or impatient, he put his arm around you and pulled you out of the courtyard with quick steps.

“I saw you leaving, this morning,” you said while Acacius tugged and pulled the shawl he was sitting on with his hands to feel comfortable.

He cleared his throat. “That’s right,” he looked at you. “I didn't want you to miss a day like this, so I came back for you,” he admitted. How could he be such a charming, gentle, and at the same time dangerous warrior? You also wondered how all your anger, all your resentment towards him had passed so quickly.

“I'm grateful, sir,” you said sincerely, he smiled at you.

As soon as the carriage entered the alleys of the Capitoline Hill, one noticed that the streets were full of people, just like yesterday. It was as if no one had returned home and spent the night on the streets. Soon as the carriage approached Via Sacra Street, you realized you were wrong, it was even more crowded than yesterday. In Egypt, such crowds only gathered on special occasions and religious festivals. However, you were not used to being in a crowd, walking freely in the streets, especially when you were dressed as a woman. Despite having resolved the queries that had troubled you since childhood, you still felt unfulfilled. It was not that you held any resentment towards anyone, but your father and uncle both tried to do you good in their way, but you still couldn't help feeling wronged. Somewhere deep in your heart, a voice kept telling you that something was wrong, and it grew louder with each passing moment. What your uncle had said to you kept echoing in your head. “You’re going to have to choose.”

But what were you going to choose? To go to your emperor brothers and explain everything and have them give you official recognition and hope that they don't kill you as a result, or to go back to Egypt as if nothing had happened and live as before, far away from everyone and everything?

“What makes you think so much? I wonder.”

At the general's voice, all your thoughts dissipated like a cloud of dust. You had almost forgotten that you were in the cart together and that he was sitting in the seat opposite you like a statue of a god.

“I'm a little nervous, sir,” you said honestly.

“Nervous about seeing the Colosseum for the first time?”

He was right, that was one of the reasons, but the real reason was the thought of seeing your half-brothers in the flesh.

“Yes,” you clenched the fabric of your dress.

“We'll be there after the ceremony, I'd love to have you with me but the slaves and others will be watching from the stands upstairs. I could ask the emperors for special permission for you to stand beside me, but I am concerned that your beauty will inevitably attract their attention,” there was not the slightest trace of humor in his voice. It would have worked in your favour, if you didn't feel ready to face your stepbrothers.

“Sir, it's not a problem really, I'll watch from where I'm supposed to be,” you said with a half smile.

“The more I can keep you away from them the better,” he murmured vaguely, peering out from behind the curtain. “Here we are.”

When the carriage stopped, the crowd's enthusiasm rose, Acacius stood up and came in front of you, a serious expression on his face as he reached for your hand and grasped it.

“It is no longer possible for me to hold your hand and for us to walk side by side, you can follow me at a distance.” He stroked your fingers with his thumb, withdrew his hand, and got out of the carriage.

You looked at him as he got out, his shawl fluttering in the wind behind him, caressing the steps of the cart.

“Sir!” Octavius ran towards him through the crowd, cheerful. You watched the two of them with their backs turned, talking to each other, the crowd chanting the General's name. Then they both turned their heads back towards you, Acacius nodded for you to come out, no one was looking at you anyway, and all the attention was on him, you took a deep breath and climbed down out of the carriage. Acacius and Octavius made sure you got out and began walking forward. As you walked behind them, keeping your eye distance, you could hear people talking and chanting. You couldn't help but wonder if one day if something happened and you sat on the throne as the emperor's daughter, would they cheer for you like that? You shook your head and tried to dismiss the absurd thought.

Acacius and Octavius were joined by other soldiers, and it was clear from the crowd that there were many people from different social classes. The wealthy, the nobles, the dignitaries, the craftsmen, and the slaves. Looking at them, you realized your clothes seemed strange to you. They had almost no jewelry on their sleeves; they were ordinary. But here, slaves could accompany their masters or enter the Colosseum, unlike in Egypt. The crowd also included women, nobles who looked at you with a piercing gaze. At first, you were perplexed by their actions. But when you looked them up and down, you saw the problem: jealousy. In Egypt, everyone ignored you, thinking you were a thin young boy in a strange cloak. Here in Rome, you were a beautifully dressed young girl, the envy of even the noblewomen. Life should be full of miracles and surprises.

The Roman triumph was a civil ceremony and religious rite of ancient Rome, held to publicly celebrate and sanctify the success of a military commander who had led Roman forces to victory in the service of the state or, in some historical traditions, one who had successfully completed a foreign war.

The venue for the ceremony was the Temple of Jupiter Optimus Maximus, one of the most important temples in the capital. Most Roman festivals were calendar fixtures, tied to the worship of particular deities. While the triumphal procession culminated at Jupiter's temple on the far end of the Via Sacra (sacred road) in the Roman Forum, the procession itself, attendant feasting, and public games promoted the general's status and achievement. In effect, the general was close to being "king for a day", and possibly close to divinity.

Accompanied by the red rose petals thrown to him to honor him, the General ascended the white marble stairs of the temple with quick steps, shining like pearls in the sun. At that moment you immediately recognised them, they were not unnoticeable anyway, your half-brothers, the emperors, approached the General. They were dressed in white and gold, just like him. From their appearance, it was not difficult to guess which one was Geta and which one was Caracalla. The general greeted them with a hand pressed to his chest and Geta gently placed the golden crown of laurel leaves on his head. While everyone was shouting and cheering with enthusiasm, you suddenly felt a pain somewhere deep in your chest. You deserved to be with them, you wanted to be, it was your birthright. But your emperor father had to take you away, was it because you were not a man? He had asked you not to blame him, not to be angry with him, but you couldn't help it, as they stood there in all their reality you realized that you really had to choose. If not now, one day. Looking at him from a distance, Caracalla raised his hands towards the people and spoke, and you wondered if your father's warning about him had been right. His hair was the same colour as yours, but his face was different. His eyes were wide with excitement and eagerness. He didn't seem so bad besides you knew it was wrong to judge a person at first glance.

You soon realized that there was some tension between him and the priest next to him, Geta raised his hand to silence him, which was very rude and disrespectful. Obviously, your half-brother was not a man of religious tradition.

“Now that our ceremony is finally over, are we ready to watch the big games?”

The whole crowd let out a roar of excitement, and it was clear that everyone was just as pumped as he was.

“Then let's head to the Colosseuuuuuuuuuuum!” he shouted and pointed in the direction of the Colosseum with his right hand.

“Our gladiators are waitiiiiiiiing!” Caracalla joined him in shouting, their voices blending and echoing throughout Capitoline Hill.

You bit your lip to keep from laughing when you realised that the General was smiling forcibly as he applauded him, you could see how annoyed he was with them. Fighting all these emotions inside you, you had neglected to pay attention to the general, but if anyone dazzled you more than anyone else, it was him. With his golden crown on his head, he was more than an emperor, he was like a God, the son of Mars, Marcus himself, who more than lived up to his name. He was glamorous, sending his radiance first into your eyes and then sending vibrations deep into your chest. As your heart beat faster than ever, you wondered if this was what love felt like. If love wasn't what this man was making you feel this way, what else could it be? You could only guess because no one had ever advised you to do so. So you realised that you wanted to remain this man's slave until you die without revealing your identity.

Now that the crowd was heading away from the temple towards the Colosseum, you followed them. You tried to keep the general and Octavius in sight, but it was difficultPeople were hurrying along, bumping into you. As people rushed past, you wanted to go to another direction to avoid getting lost, you passed more people and got closer to the temple, and you looked for him. You saw the Emperors and General were going down the road in a chariot. You were about to run after them when the senators came down the stairs. And then your eyes met with a dark-browned skin member of the senate, he looked at you with wide eyes. You looked away and went into the crowd because he was coming towards you. But more people were coming from the road, so you turned left and went behind the temple to hide. When you reached the corner wall, you looked back and saw no one. Then someone called out to you as you headed towards the other road. You ignored him, but this time he called you by name. “Wait, Aurelia!”

You froze in shock. That was your real name, and you thought everyone who knew it was dead. You turned your head with curiosity and saw the man from earlier running towards you. You gripped the dress fabric in your hands feeling extremely nervous. The man was panting as he approached. "Is it really you?"

You swallowed hard. "I'm sorry, sir, but I think you mistaken me for someone else."

The man looked you in the eye and smiled with confidence. "I'd recognise those eyes anywhere, it's you." He was observing your hair. "Septimia Aurelia, do you know how much I have searched for you, my lady?"

@myownwholewildworld @orcasoul @pedroslut4eva @immyowndefender @lailathepedritofan @screechingchildfury

if anyone wants me to tag them please comment :) thank you all <3

#fanfiction #fanfic #pedro pascal fandom #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal #ao3 fanfic #marcus acacias x reader #narcos fanfiction #general marcus acacius #marcus acacius #pedro pascal gifs #gladiator ii #gladiator movie #gladiator 2 #marcus acacius x reader #marcus acacius x you #gladiator chronicles

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devilevlls · 5 months

Text

"In the depths of my soul, you reside."

3,259 words - Minors do not interact

TW 📌: "Satanic" rituals, abuse, explicit language, pornographic content, mentions of sexual abuse, hateful language directed at religious groups, blasphemy, corruption kink, demons being demons, unprotected sex, creampie, gay sex, MC is the bottom, MC trusts him to consume a piece of their soul.

MC is AMAB, I use they/them pronouns to refer to them because that's the way I feel comfortable in describing the character. They are called "boy, young man, son" and so. If you are uncomfortable with any of the warnings, please, do not read. Sumary:

After the former priest was removed due to accusations of sexual abuse, the authority place had to be filled by someone else and Lucifer, who owed a favor to his friend Simeon, took the spot, ministering that Saturday to fulfill his obligation.

He ends up finding a new motivation when he encounters MC, who is in conflict with themselves about their dark thoughts. Their desires and duty are fighting to see who would take the young human and the demon would like to help, with a price.

The sound of the chapel's heavy doors echoed, interrupting the stillness of the afternoon, as the man dressed entirely in black entered, moving with determination and agility, casting furtive glances around to ensure he was not being followed. His long, purposeful steps led him until he stopped in front of a cowering, sobbing, fearful figure.

The young human was kneeling before the bench, hands clasped in prayer, tears flowing freely.

"Why are you crying, son?" The newcomer's hoarse voice cuts through the silence, his imposing red eyes penetrating deep into the boy's soul.

They were startled, interrupting their prayer to look at the one who was getting in the way of their sacred moment.

"Forgive me, sir." They bowed gently, voice trembling.

The elder gentleman stood majestically, dressed in the attire befitting his vocation, exuding an aura of divine elegance.

With a subtle clearing of the throat, they signaled their intention to speak further. “I believe you are the new priest responsible for our humble chapel this saturday. I am your assistant, aspiring priest, a... Deacon.” The human struggle with their words.

"It's nice to meet you, MC." The older man's husky voice delivered a playful tone.

"How do you know my name? I haven't introduced myself yet," MC replied, somewhat intrigued.

"Do not worry. I know everything," the man replied, his enigmatic smile seeming to widen even further. "My name is Lucifer." He took a few steps towards MC, his confident posture and penetrating gaze causing slight discomfort.

A frightening shiver ran down MC's spine, but they forced themselves to maintain composure, standing up and trying to appear receptive, although the nervousness was still evident.

"That's a pretty unusual name for a priest," MC commented, their voice a little shaky as the younger one tried to hide the fear that was beginning to settle inside.

"Do not be scared. I will only stay here while the other priest is being investigated for the rape of the young people in this chapel.”

The mention of the accusation made the boy take a step back, feeling their stomach twist with tension.

"Oh... yes."

"Did he touch you?", Lucifer asked, taking a step forward and reaching for MC's chin, forcing them to maintain eye contact, his imposing presence dominating the surrounding space.

"No, sir. Father Kahleus has always been very kind to me," MC responded quickly, feeling uncomfortable with the unexpected physical contact.

"Humans are so hypocritical, don't you think?", Lucifer continued, his voice filled with cynicism, as he watched MC's reaction with interest.

MC gave a nervous laugh, confused by the direction the conversation was going. "Humans...?", he began, before being interrupted by the tall demon.

"Please, refrain yourself from acting like you don't understand," Lucifer said, his gaze making them uneasy.

Swallowing hard, they turned away from Lucifer, looking down at the ground for a moment before taking a deep breath and gathering the courage to respond.

"Sir, we shouldn't make that kind of analogy in a sacred place like this. Would you like to accompany me, so I can show you your private room next to the tabernacle?"

"Show me the way," Lucifer replied with a mischievous glint in his eyes, watching as MC chose to ignore the reality unfolding before them.

— *

Once inside the room, MC presented all the important documents, financial notes and accessories for the masses that would begin the next day.

"Do you have any questions, sir?" The human asked, briefly meeting Lucifer's gaze before looking away again, feeling uncomfortable under the intensity of those piercing eyes.

"Why were you crying earlier?", Lucifer asked suddenly, breaking the brief silence that hung in the room.

A shiver ran down MC's spine before he could respond. "Father Kahleus was never like that. I feel like the devil tempted him," MC confessed, voice thick with worry and confusion.

Lucifer held back an ironic laugh and sighed, shaking his head. "Are you that naive? People are bad and blaming the devil doesn't make them better," he replied with disarming directness.

"Don't you understand? We have oaths. We all do, and I'm sure you did too," MC insisted, struggling to comprehend the complexity of the situation.

"Many centuries ago, when my wings were still white as snow and my mind corrupted by the ideals of a cowardly creator," Lucifer murmured, a trace of melancholy passing through his eyes.

MC sighed, feeling scared and confused, taking a step back and inadvertently bumping into the coffee table.

"Don't be scared, but I must admit that the more time we spend together, the hungrier I get," Lucifer said, voice filled with a strange sadistic energy, he enjoyed watching his prey connecting the dots and becoming alarmed.

"You... You did this to him?", MC asked, voice cracking at the terrifying possibility.

“Ah… Now you have become aware of who I really am.” He smiled slightly and concentrated for a moment, making his demonic form apparent. “No, I didn’t do anything.”

MC tried to scream, but before they could make any sound, their mouth was immediately silenced by Lucifer's firm, gloved touch, which covered their lips with firm pressure. The demon's gaze conveyed a silent warning, a contained threat that echoed beyond the simple physical gesture. The air around them felt heavy, thick with palpable tension between the two, as MC fought the panic that threatened to wash over. The young human’s eyes widened in despair, but the words were suffocated before they could even come out.

“Let's not make a fuss, okay? You're safer with me than you were with that creep. Unlike him, I know how to keep my dick in my pants instead of molesting innocent young boys and girls.”

MC's eyes widened at Lucifer's explicit language, feeling uncomfortable with the description and lack of shame.

Stopping for a moment, Lucifer was truly stunning, almost mesmerizing, and he was so close already... It made the human's heart race.

The demon sighed and removed his hand from the boy's mouth, looking around before moving away, breaking the physical contact that had left MC so tense. “You don’t look very old, how old are you? Why are you so naive?” “I’m 23 and not a child to be naive.” MC hisses a little offended “I’m aware of what happened, but I can’t believe he would do such a thing.” “Then you are just stupid, young man," He says agressively before changing the subject. "Well, I believe your work is finished for today. I'll see you at mass tomorrow", Lucifer declared, his voice filled with indifference, as if the previous meeting had never happened.

"Why...", MC started to ask, before being interrupted by Lucifer.

"Why, you say? I'm just following orders, nothing more," Lucifer explained as he settled into the office chair, crossing his long legs with an air of nonchalance. "Please leave. You're making me agitated with all this excitement between your legs." Lucifer's final remark made MC feel heat flush their cheeks. “I’m not excited!” They complained.

“I can see your erection from here.” The demon states dismissively, opening one of the reports to analyze.

MC quickly walked away and left the room without saying another word, feeling embarrassed. The encounter with Lucifer left them shaken and confused, questioning how all this could happen in such a sacred environment.

Why didn't the demon attack him or do terrible things to them? These questions echoed in their mind as the panicked figure hurriedly walked to the quarters.

Once there, MC threw themselves on the floor and closed their eyes, trying to banish the disturbing thoughts. The human wondered if it was all just a nightmare or a bad joke, but the firm feeling of Lucifer's hand still hovered over their skin, making them feel indecently warm.

"I wonder if he's really going to minister tomorrow…", MC muttered to themselves, voice filled with uncertainty and apprehension.

They feared what the next day might bring.

—*

The other day, in the morning as promised, MC entered the private room before mass to organize all the accessories, but was surprised to find Lucifer dressed for the celebration, his attire highlighting his magnetic beauty even more. So handsome... So tempting.

"What...?", MC began, their shaky voice reflecting the confusion at seeing the demon there.

Lucifer turned and sighed, recognizing the human's presence. "You again…", he murmured.

"I'm your assistant. I-I mean... I'm the substitute priest's assistant!", MC hurried to explain, reeling in their own troubled thoughts as they watched the demon button his shirt and put on his chasuble with a disconcerting naturalness.

"So nervous early on. This way you won't make it through the rest of the day," Lucifer teased, approaching the young man with an intimidating presence. "Can we go or are you going to keep devouring me with your eyes? I thought you had a vow of chastity to keep."

MC stepped back looking away to avoid the temptations Lucifer offered. "We may proceed. The faithful are arriving," they replied quickly, trying to maintain the composure.

—*

It was truly surprising to watch Lucifer lead the mass. He delivered speeches and read bible verses as if had memorized them in his mind centuries ago. Well, in a way, he actually had them. After all, he was once an angel before becoming that.... Thing.

MC found themselves staring at him as he continued with the ministration, unable to look away. Lucifer's beauty was mesmerizing, every movement elegant, every word spoken with authority. Even though they knew who he really was, MC couldn't help but admire, getting lost in the details of his sculpted body and magnetic aura.

They tried to push away the conflicting thoughts, focusing on the church service that was taking place in front of them. But despite the efforts, the demon's presence continued to exert an undeniable fascination over them.

After concluding the morning mass, they both retreated to the private room once more, where Lucifer intended to change.

"And with that, I'm free from this stupidity," Lucifer remarked with disdain.

"But there's still Sunday mass," the other replied.

"I couldn't care less. Saturday was my agreement, and I've fulfilled my part," Lucifer retorted coldly.

"Please, I don't know how I'll find another priest!" they pleaded, their voice tinged with desperation before clearing their throat. "Not that you're truly a priest, but..."

"Perhaps I could assist... for a price," Lucifer interjected.

The human sighed disapprovingly. "And what do you want, demon?"

"Fear not, nothing of a carnal nature unless that's what you desire. Just a small sampling of your soul. It won't be painful..." Lucifer's voice dripped with mockery, knowing full well it would inflict torment.

"Okay... but..." They fidgeted nervously. "What if I desire... to explore something more?" The young man struggled to articulate their thoughts, aware that the words might inadvertently reveal the weight of something deeply personal. Despite the embarrassment that lingered, they saw this moment as an opportunity to confront a long-standing question that had lingered since their teenage years: exploring intimacy with someone of the same sex.

"More...? Pray, enlighten me," Lucifer responded, already aware of the human's desires but relishing in their embarrassment nonetheless.

"What if I desire... to be intimate with you?" they whispered, their cheeks flushing crimson.

"Ah, you are a naughty one," Lucifer chuckled, crossing his arms. "Very well, then. You've piqued my interest enough to indulge your curiosity."

Lucifer drew nearer, enveloping them in his embrace, arms around their waist, and swiftly initiated a fervent kiss, his tongue forcing the other to yield while they squirm, their kisses growing sloppy.

"Ngh..." the human moaned softly.

"Hush," Lucifer whispered, pulling them closer until their backs met the desk, eliciting a startled squeak. "We wouldn't want anyone overhearing, would we?"

The boy felt his heart thundering as they attempted to match Lucifer's fervor, but this was, indeed, their first kiss. Delicate hands roamed frantically over the demon's back, grasping at his clothes, while their legs trembled, on the verge of collapsing.

Observing the human's struggle, the avatar of pride seized their waist and gently positioned them on the table, slipping his hands beneath the fabric of the shirt to caress the delicate skin underneath.

The young assistant was already swept up in excitement, their cheeks ablaze as they breathed heavily. Their eyes darkened with lust, body craving more with every heartbeat. There was a slight twitching inside their pants and Lucifer noticed right away, brushing his long finger on top of it.

Lucifer leaned in closer, their lips grazing the human's ear as they whispered in a low, sultry tone, "You're quite eager, aren't you?"

They shivered at the sensation, their whole body tingling with anticipation. "I... I want..." stuttered the assistant, their voice barely a whisper as desire flooded their senses.

With a smirk, the demon gently lifted their chin, his gaze locking with the assistant's as he whispered, "Tell me exactly what you want." Swallowing hard, their heart race in their chest. "I want... I want to feel you," they confessed, voice trembling with a mix of nerves and longing.

A predatory gleam sparked in Lucifer's eyes as he leaned in, capturing the assistant's lips in a searing kiss. They melted into each other again, the heat of their desire igniting a flame that consumed them both.

The demon quickly starts undressing, taking off his clothes and tossing around before doing the same with them, until they are only with their underwear. Feeling both exposed and exhilarated, the human experienced a rush of courage as they reached out, their finger tracing along Lucifer's firm chest and abdomen. His physique wasn't overly sculpted, but it was undeniably defined in a way that stirred desire within them. It was fucking sexy.

Biting their lip, they chastised themselves for entertaining such thoughts about him. Yet, with every movement, their mind spun with vivid imaginings of what lay beneath his clothing, igniting a wild frenzy of desire that threatened to consume them completely.

“Now let's begin…” Lucifer cast a spell, conjuring a bright red light that momentarily dazzled the priest assistant. As their vision cleared, they blinked in surprise to find Lucifer holding a bottle of lube in his hand.

MC's cheeks flushed crimson with a mixture of arousal and astonishment. "What... what did you just do?" they stammered, their voice betraying a blend of curiosity and anticipation.

“I just got something to assist you.” He spreads some of the liquid on his hand and comes closer, sliding their underwear down. “Now, be a good boy and spread your legs for me.” As they opened their legs, Lucifer adjusts himself in between, sliding the underwear off his body, making the hardened shaft plop against his abs. The human widened their eyes, admiring how thick and perfect it looked. It was way better than they could ever imagine. Taking a deep breath to steady themselves for what would come next, they fix their gaze on Lucifer as he spread the lube over himself with deliberate care.

Anticipation coiled in the air between them as he stepped closer, now caressing their thighs. “Hold into me and enjoy your ride.” His low voice echos into their mind.

As Lucifer aligned himself and pushed into their entrance, MC gave a sharp intake of breath, instinctively clinging to the demon as a wave of intense pain surged through them. Tears welled in their eyes, and a soft sob escaped their lips, the sensation overwhelming and unexpected.

"Oh, do not cry," Lucifer murmured with a smirk, his voice a blend of amusement and a hint of something more complex. Despite his earlier taunt, there was a surprising gentleness in his actions as he continued to push himself deeper,the movements careful and deliberate, attuned to the human's sensations.“I almost feel pity of you.”

As the older man's hips pressed against theirs, the human's moans and pants grew louder, caught in a mix of pain and pleasure unlike anything they had ever experienced before.

With each thrust, MC's member pulsed with desire, coating their belly with slick pre-cum, a testament to the overwhelming arousal that coursed through them both.

"L-Lucifer... I..."

“Already?” Lucifer teases, moving faster and pushing forcefully inside them. They didn’t answer, only digging their nails into Lucifer’s back, nodding while moaning desperately.

Seeing the opportunity, the demon smiles sadistically and turns into his demon form, dark wings spread, growling like a wild animal. His tone was demonic, it had something almost disturbing in it. Without a word, he sinks his fangs into the boy's shoulder, the sudden surge of pain and pleasure caused the boy to gasp and squirm uncontrollably, their body convulsing with ecstasy as they release their load, splattering a mess across both of them in a wild climax of desire and darkness. As Lucifer indulged in consuming the ecstatic piece of soul, relishing its delectable taste, he exercised restraint, ensuring not to take too much.

It was a corruption that came so natural, so enticing, it only fueled his insatiable hunger further. With each taste, he felt himself sinking deeper into them, reveling in the delicious sensation of it all.

He couldn’t hold himself anymore.

He grips into their hips, his nails digging into their skin as he thrust himself deeper with a primal ferocity, ignoring the human's pleas for respite as they get overstimulated, he moved with an unrestrained urgency, becoming increasingly feral as he relentlessly massaged their prostate with his tip. With a primal roar of release, the avatar of pride surrendered to the overwhelming intensity, emptying his pent-up load deep inside them. Groaning and trembling from the sheer magnitude of the moment, he gasped desperately, seeking solace in the warmth of the human's neck as he nuzzled against it. That was the most vulnerable moment of Lucifer, the afterglow. Holding their body tightly, Lucifer ensured they couldn't escape from his corruption, his embrace a mixture of possessiveness and longing, binding them together in the aftermath of their shared descent into darkness. "Hells..." he murmured, his voice heavy with satisfaction. He threatens backing away but gets pulled back into the embrace.

"Please... Don't go yet," the human pleaded, their breath still coming in ragged pants as they hugged him back.

"Listen... I'm just here because I was in debt with a friend of mine, so I had to hold a stupid mass, now that I'm done with it, I will go back to Devildom. I'm just catching my breath," Lucifer explained matter-of-factly.

"Oh... So I'm not going to see you again?" There was a slight hint of sadness in their tone.

"What? Are you switching sides now? Want me to take you to hell with me?" Lucifer smirked, nuzzling against the MC's neck once more, inhaling their sweet scent mingled with salty sweat.

"No! Of course not. How could I...?" they replied, their tone falsely offended.

"Don't deny me like we didn't just... you know, fucked" Lucifer teased, his smirk widening as the human blushed and caressed the back of his neck.

“D-Don’t say such a thing.”

"Since you are so inspired… Maybe I could indulge you in a second round, but I don't think your human body will handle me again," Lucifer suggested, his voice laced with amusement.

"Please... Again," they whispered eagerly, desire evident in their eyes.

"Guess I will visit you more, human," Lucifer agreed, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

With smiles exchanged between them, they resumed their passionate embrace, forgetting the world outside the private room as they risked getting caught in the most sinful act they could ever do.

Ok, this took me too long... I really really really hope you guys liked it. ＞﹏＜ AO3 version OH! And thanks for the 300 followers! You guys are amazing, thanks for the support, for rebloging my stuff and interacting in the posts, I'm loving every part of it.

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corruptedcaps · 9 months

Text

Contraband

"Miss Black, how many times have you been told you that running shoes are not part of our uniform?" said the kind but stern Principal Kent, catching Kelly between classes. "I know, sir, but my shoes were taken by the other girls, Samantha and her gang. I only have my trainers left."

Kent looked at her, still stern, but a flicker of empathy registered in his face. "One of these days, Kelly, you're going to have to stand up to them. You need to be more aggressive. For now, here take this key, it will get you into the confiscation room, there is surely to be a pair of shoes in there you can borrow. Quickly now!" he said hoping no one would see his obvious favouritism to Kelly.

Kelly nodded, feeling the weight of isolation as she walked down the corridor. Bullied and friendless, the boarding school seemed like a never-ending maze of hostility. As she entered the contraband room, she wondered if there would ever be a day when she could break free from the clutches of Samantha and her gang.

Kelly scoured the room, scanning through a sea of forgotten and illicit items. She passed a whole host of things that ranged from cigarettes all the way to dildos. There seemed to be items from every decade in there.

Finally her eyes fell upon the box marked 'shoes.' Inside, an array of styles and vintage greeted her, but one pair seized her attention immediately. Sky high white stilettos, barely acceptable within the dress code, beckoned her. These were shoes she would have never considered before; too sexy, too trashy, she thought, for her plain, boring body.

And yet something about them was nearly daring her to try them, to step outside her comfort zone. Hesitant, Kelly pulled the stilettos from the box. As she ran her fingers along the shiny material them, a rebellious spark ignited within her. Perhaps it was time for a change, a departure from the identity imposed on her by Samantha and her gang. She tried them on, the unfamiliar sensation of height and confidence taking hold.

She unsteadily walked a few feet to a nearby lengthwise mirror and took in her reflection. The shoes looked ridiculous on her, her messy hair, glasses and oversized clothes clashed immediately with the shoes. She cursed to herself. For even thinking they might look good on her.

However as she reached down to take them off the stilettos suddenly seemed to tighten around her feet of their own accord. A strange sensation washed over her, making her lightheaded. Dark purple wisps wafted off the shoes, swirling up her legs and around her body. The room crackled with an energy both electric and foreboding.

Kelly gasped as the purple cloud shot into her mouth and slithered down her throat making her cough. Despite the discomfort she felt a most pleasurable sensation start in her stomach and radiate outwards. She felt her very bones creak and her skin stretch and go taut in equally measure. Her body somehow changing.

The shoes, now snug against her feet, seemed to sculpt her legs, elongating them with an ethereal elegance. Her posture shifted, adopting a more defiant stance that hinted at newfound confidence. The curves of her silhouette became more pronounced, as if the magic sought to highlight a beauty that had long been overlooked.

“Ohhh god what’s happening to me? I feel so… nasty.” She groaned as the changes continued.

Her clothing, seemingly touched by the same mystical forces, clung to her transformed figure with a provocative allure. The ordinary uniform tightened around her increasingly shrinking stomach. Her shirt tied up at the middle to expose her new flat midriff and to act as a bra for her now bigger tits. The once modest knee length skirt shortened to a length that would expose her privates with the most subtle of breezes.

The very thought would have made Kelly blush previously but was now turning her on. So much so that she was delighted when she felt her underwear dissolve away leaving her pussy bare.

“Oh fuck yes it’ll be so much easier to fuck studs like this. Oh god what am I saying? That’s not the kind of girl I am! Mmmm but I could be.” She groaned in pleasure.

Her messy brunette locks underwent a startling change, gradually transitioning to a lustrous and thick mane, gaining several inches in height as if was made of hairspray.

Simultaneously, fake nails snapped on her fingers. As if guided by an unseen hand, they took on a polished white sheen to match her new shoes. Finally her skin took on a bronzed fake tan look from head to toe and thick sexy makeup covered her face.

As Kelly eyed herself in the mirror, a personality crystallized in her mind. The girl staring back at her wasn’t some delicate well spoken wallflower who bent to the orders of anyone, not least Samantha and her clique of stuck up princesses.

No, Kelly was now a girl who did whatever she wanted and fuck the consequences. She was a trashy bitch who lived for life’s pleasure’s. A wicked grin crept across her face. "Fuck, look at me now, I’m proper changed, innit? No more being the soft target for those posh sluts. I feel so nasty and mean, I fuckin’ love it!"

She played with her thick hair, and started chewing on gum that had somehow appeared in her mouth. "Gone from plain Jane to a fuckin' babe. Never thought I'd look so good as slutty chav."

Her eyes glinted with a rebellious fire. "Those slag bullies won't know what to do with me. I'm not a fuckin’ pushover anymore.” She laughed to herself as she picked up the box of cigarettes she had seen earlier and sparked up on.

She breathed in deep its smoke, letting it coat her lungs. She blew a perfect ring as if she had done it a thousand times. She ran her fingers along the shelves of the room pocketing or wearing anything that caught her eye. She quickly lost track of time and ignored the bell ring signalling the end of class.

She was just eying a huge dildo when Principal Kent, concerned by Kelly's prolonged absence, entered the room with a purpose. However, as his eyes fell upon the transformed figure before him, shock and disbelief painted his features. "Kelly, what in the world..."

She looked at him first like the authorial figure he was and was about to scowl but then something started to grow inside of her, a sudden lust. Kelly had always been fond of Kent and that fondness had transformed into a newfound need to fuck him. She couldn’t help but salivate at the thought of tasting his dick and making him cum inside her. She stubbed her cigarette on the ground with her new heels and walked over to him like a panther.

She walked past his open mouthed stance and closed the door. With a turn of the lock she sealed the two of them in. She put her hands behind her butt and arched her back at him, pushing out her cleavage. Kent gulped.

“Ohhhh sir, I’m so glad you came, I got locked in here by mistake. You’re my knight in shining armour.” She said with a dangerous smile as she slowly approached him. He backed away into a shelf, pinned in by the new Kelly.

“Miss Black, I think we need to find you some help, why don’t we…” He began nervously.

Her wicked grin cut through his words as she stood confidently in his path. "Principal Kent, no need for help. I’ve learned the one thing you’ve always said I needed to be. Aggressive. And call me Kelly, babe."

In a bold move, Kelly seized Principal Kent by the head, pulling him into a deep and unexpected kiss. As their lips met, the magic within her stomach rose up and out her mouth entering Kent’s body. Kelly pulled back from their kiss and found Kent to be in a sort of trance.

“Well isn’t this a surprise?” Kelly said waving her hand in front of his face to no reaction while tasting the lingering magic on her lips. Smirking to herself she undid his belt buckle and let his pants slide to the floor. Pulling his underwear down she was dismayed to find a fairly insignificant penis staring back at her.

“Let’s see what my slutty magic mouth can do about this.” She grinned as she wrapped her pink lips around his cock and began sucking. To her delight she felt it grow larger in her mouth. However Kent seemed to break from his trance by her slurping but rather than stop her he grabbed her hair and guided his cock in and out of her mouth.

“Oh fuck yes you dirty slag, suck my big cock. Oh what am I saying? What are you doing to me.” He groaned in confusion but finding it hard to stop himself. Kelly looked up at him with satisfied dirty look on her face as she watched the magic start to spiral out from her mouth, down his shaft and infect the rest of his body.

His body began to bulk outwards along his arms and legs, becoming strong and muscular. His flabby middle aged stomach sucked in and became a toned six pack. He aged backwards, going from his 40 something self into an 18 year old hunk with a stylish haircut and chiselled jaw line. His muted suit turned into one of the school uniforms that barely contained his new bulging form.

He couldn’t help but look at himself in the mirror as Kelly continued to suck him off. He flexed his muscles and practiced a scowl. Like Kelly before him he found a new persona emerge the more he looked at his reflection. One that was mean, cruel and loved to bully. The only thing he loved more was his bitchy girlfriend Kelly.

He felt his huge dick start to spasm as he let the new personality take over, he was about to cum but Kelly had other plans. Pulling his dick out of her mouth she started to stroke it slowly as she stood up and slipped her wet pussy onto it. They both moaned in unison as she did.

“Ohhhh fuck babe I don’t know what you did to me but I fucking love it. I feel like such a bastard now.” He grinned.

“Stop bloody talking will ya and fuck me!” She said with a cheeky grin as he lifted her off the ground and pushed her against a wall. She groaned in ecstasy Ashe rammed his member into her wanting pussy again and again.

“Cum in me you fucking bastard!” She groaned loudly that she was sure most of school would hear. Kent obliged by thrusting long and hard into her. The magic that she had imparted on him was now re-entering her body. With each drop of cum coming in Kent started to revert back to his older form.

“No! No! What’s happening to me?” Kent cried out as he slowly dropped Kelly to the ground unable to hold her with his weaker arms. Kelly smirked to herself as she watched Kent turn completely back to his normal self.

“Sorry babe, but the magic likes to come back to me, I can’t help it can I? But tell you what, you be a good little principal and let me do whatever the fuck I want and we can make this a daily thing. Deal?” She said as she toyed with her hair.

Kent looked at her tight body and her sexy smile and knew he would do anything she asked. Anything to feel strong again and anything to feel her warm pussy again. He nodded. With that Kelly disappeared into the shelves to retrieve something.

“Good. First things first, the uniform code doesn’t apply to me anymore got it? I can wear whatever the fuck I want from know on got it?” She called out from deep in the room.

“Oh I don’t think I can do that, it will be obvious favouritism….” He started but trailed off as Kelly emerged dressed in a new outfit. He gulped and felt his dick get instantly hard.

“Don’t worry baby, I’m going to be your new student liaison, or something proper like that, so I’ll need to stand out from the rest of school or make up whatever excuse you want I don’t fucking care. Either way we’re going to be spending a lot more time together and you’re going to help me rule this dump. Aren’t you babe?” She said more as a statement of fact than a request.

She didn’t need to sink to her knees and suck him off again but she had gotten so horny thinking about what a mean bitchy queen chav she was going to be that she wanted big strong Kent back and Kent wasn’t going to argue.

THE END

#f2f #corruption #bitchification #magic #evil bitch #evil couple #corrupted couple #corrupted shoes #corrupted clothing #cc2023

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specialagentlokitty · 4 months

Text

MHA x reader - terrifyingly kind

I think it would be pretty cool if reader was Americas like 3rd pro hero and had a werewolf quirk and maybe it’s just the pro heroes reacting to how big the reader is in height and muscle (no matter the gender) and if you want the reader can have ears and a tail. They’re kind of like the big bad wolf - Anon💜

Looking around the city, you looked at your phone as you followed the directions on google maps, ignoring the gawking stares and the flashes of cameras as you passed.

You had been requested by the Japanese hero commission to help with a mission, due to the nature of your quirk, you were a perfect fit for the rescue mission.

Padding to the building, you pushed the door open, stepping inside where some other pro heroes and what you assumed to be a handful of high school students were waiting.

You looked around before finding a yellow and green haired man standing nearby.

“Sir Nighteye?” You asked.

Immediately all eyes were on you, and a few people couldn’t help but take a step back out of sheer fear for your height and build.

“Yes. I presume you’re the hero brought in from America, Lupis?”

You gave a nod of your head, ears twitching as you picked up on the sounds of whispers around the room.

“That I am, I’ve already been brought up to speed on the situation. Where are the two students who came into contact with the girl first?”

Two students were waved over, one smiling brightly while looking slightly nervous while the other looked absolutely terrified.

“These are UA students and interns of mine, Lamillion and Deku.”

You nodded slightly and flicked your gaze between them both, then crouched down to make yourself look a little less imposing.

“I need you both to tell me everything, and if you managed to get anything from the girl*

You listened as they both spoke, ignoring the whispers all around you and the gawking stares from all the other pro heroes in the area.

While listening, you flicked your tail from side to side as you smiled, a subconscious way of telling them that you were happy with how well they were doing.

Deku seemed instantly drawn to it, and other aspects of your quirk while his fellow student spoke, and you let him inspect you.

“Go ahead kid, I don’t bite.”

Deku nervously nodded and moved around you, and you noticed a very watching pair of eyes on the three of you.

It wasn’t hard to put down that this pro hero was most likely their teacher.

You keep yourself crouched to seem less imposing to them both, and look at Lamillion.

“When we breach the hideout I need you to use your quirk and find me something belonging to the girl as quickly as possible, then guide me there. I have excellent hearing so I’ll hear you, if I can get her scent I can track her for up to 5 miles.”

“Wow, really?!” Lamillion beamed.

You give a nod of your head.

“It’s a perk to my quirk, so just get me a scent to track and I can lead the way no problem.”

With that, you stand up to your full height again, even without your werewolf form active you were still standing at an imposing 6’5, and bulky,

Both the heroes in training grinned brightly up at you, a new sense of hope filling you knowing that you would be a huge help.

The other heroes all look at you, and you offer the two teenagers a small grin, flashing your canines at them.

“Just don’t go doing something stupid out there, not only will I be pissed with you, but I bet your teachers and mentors will too.”

They both looked a little nervous as you speak.

Reaching out, you placed a hand on each of their heads, leaning down to be eye level with them both.

“Remember being a hero isn’t just about saving people no matter the cost, it’s about saving people while keeping yourselves safe at the same time, so leave the brute strength to me.”

“Right!” They both nodded.

With another, you finally stepped back from them, putting your hands in your pockets as your tail lazily flicked back and forth.

“So, little heroes, let’s go save this girl.”

“Right!” They beamed.

A wave of relief seemed to wash around the room, and everybody slowly started to get ready for their new mission, ready to save Eri with your help

#my hero academia #my hero academia x reader #my hero academia x you #my hero academia imagine #mha #mha x reader #mha x y/n #mha x you #mha imagine

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3d-wifey · 1 year

Text

And They'd Find Us In A Week - Chapter 3

Pairing: Finnick Odair x Reader Word Count: 5.08k Synopsis: Here! Playlist: Listen up!

Past (iii) - You

[16 & 17] - THE CAPITOL

When you were six, Eleven had a bad year for crops. Of course, the ones who felt the brunt of it were the district citizens. Your parents had given you half of their rations plus your own, but that still wasn't much and you were starving. So you snuck into the woods in hopes of finding something to eat when you saw it. A coyote stuck on its side, legs too frail to lift itself.

It looked gaunt, ribs protruding and spine on display. You knew hunger personally enough to recognize it anywhere. But even as weak as it was, it looked at you like you were prey—growling and snapping its teeth from where it laid on its side.

You knew it could hurt you. No matter how weak it looked, it was still stronger than you and all it would take was one bite for you to get some kind of infection. With how weak your immune system was, something like that would have killed you almost instantly. So you left it there.

As you sit in front of President Snow, you can't help but be reminded of that coyote.

He's paler in person, face thinner up close. That doesn't make him any less imposing. You fidget in your seat and glance at the door. You know there are four Peacekeepers stationed outside, guns full of ammo. They'll shoot you down without a second thought if Snow wills it, put a bullet in your skull at the snap of his fingers.

There are dozens of white roses around you, tucked inside vases on any available surface. Almost innocent if not for their cloying scent. It gives you a headache. You’ve never seen so many roses outside of a funeral.

When you received the letter requesting your presence, you were at a loss. The next Victory Tour wasn't for a couple of months. What business do you have in the Capitol?

You're so concentrated on your surroundings that it surprises you when he finally starts talking.

"Forgive me, I never personally commended you for your games. I would have done so a year ago, of course, but there were complications." His gruff voice carries in the room. Your shoulders are stiff with tension.

Is that it? He invited you to the Capitol—to his office— to what? To salute you? Your stylist didn't have you plucked and waxed just for a pat on the back. There must be more behind this, not that you would ever call him out on that.

He opens a drawer on his right and pulls out an intricately designed, rectangular canister. He places it in front of you, takes off the lid, and picks up a gold-wrapped piece of candy.

"Many people don't get to relish in the luxuries of the Capitol. For example, this candy. You didn't get to have many of these growing up in Eleven, did you," he chuckles when you shake your head. He knew the answer to that question before he asked it, "No, of course not. But you're a victor now, you should indulge. Butterscotch?" He offers and it feels like bait.

You're not sure if you can work up the nerve to say no to him, even over something as trivial as a piece of candy. You nod and he raises his eyebrow. You clear your throat, "Yes, please."

"Good girl." He mutters approvingly, gloved fingers brushing your palm as he hands the candy to you. You barely hold back a flinch.

He watches you unwrap the candy and place it in your mouth. It's quiet. You can feel your heartbeat in your teeth.

"It's good, isn't it?" He asks rhetorically but doesn't continue speaking. He just stares. You can't tell if he wants you to answer or not. And when you finally open your mouth to say something, he cuts you off.

"There's something on your mind. Say it."

"I'm sorry, Sir, but I—I just didn't think my games were impressive enough to garner your attention." You barely did anything worth a spectacle. Your games might have been entertaining, but you're no Finnick Odair.

“Now, let's be honest with each other. You're thinking, ‘Surely, he didn't invite me here just to congratulate me’, yes?” He smiles with an encouraging nod, almost like a schoolteacher. Are you that easy to read? First Finnick, now him.

You nod, unsure if any noise that comes out of your mouth will be intelligible.

"You're quite clever for someone of your background. That's why people love you so much. And it's that love that brings you here today. The people want more of you."

"I didn't know I was so popular." You naively thought the hype surrounding you and your games would die off with the entrance of a new victor. Will you be interviewed by Caesar? Doing another photoshoot for Capitol Couture?

“I want to explain something to you, my dear, in a way you’ll understand. Imagine a wolf wanders onto your farm—you know what a wolf is, yes? This wolf hasn’t killed any of your cattle, but it has the potential to. Now, you could always get rid of the wolf, kill it, but that’s only a temporary solution. There will always be other wolves.” He scolds you as if you were the one to suggest it and not him. “Why go through the effort of killing it, when you can tame it—give the wolf a bone, so to speak. You earn its loyalty and it protects the cattle from other predators.” You aren’t sure you really follow what he’s trying to say. Are you the wolf? The cattle? You certainly don’t own the farm.

"In the past, I’ve always resorted to getting rid of my wolves. But I’ve found it’s easier to domesticate them. I'll be completely transparent with you as I want no misunderstandings between us. I am in the business of making wolves happy. And something that'll make them very happy is you," your knees ache with how hard you're gripping them, "not even the most blue-blooded citizens can fight the allure of spending a night with a victor. Especially one as captivating as yourself."

You stare at each other. Your eyes stunned, his apathetic. You’re able to decipher his needlessly complicated metaphor and you wish he was talking about actual wolves. You’d rather take your chances with the predators in the woods than the ones in the Capitol.

“I...I'm sorry, I don't understand. If this is a money thing—”

"No, I don't do this for money. Although there is a substantial fee involved, the people who are pushing for this are my key endorsers. You provide this service for them and I ensure their loyalty. Wolf, meet bone."

You shake your head, suddenly nauseous. "Why would I agree to that?"

"Why? Do you not care about your mother? What of Seeder and her poor children," he asks, tsking at your confusion. "Eleven is our most populated district. It can stand to lose a few people." You hear the threat he's not saying and throwing up becomes a very, very real possibility.

You say nothing, swallowing around fear and vomit. He leans back in his chair, probably sickly satisfied at how subdued he’s got you.

You've never hated anyone as much as you hate the man before you. Not the peacekeeper that executed your father, or the Crop Overseer that made it her mission to touch as many of the young farmhands as she could. He's going to whore you out to the highest bidder. No, he's giving your body away like a party favor.

He steeples his fingers. "There's a party tonight. I can expect to see you there, hmm?"

You nod slowly before remembering what he wants. "Yes, sir."

"Good," he releases a puff of air from his nose that you can almost count as a laugh. He slides a key card across the desk. "You will be staying at the Marquis Hotel in room 2077. There are only two people with access to the door: you and the Avox in charge of cleaning it. Unless stated otherwise, you will hold all of your appointments in this room." He's given you the top floor, you note faintly.

"You will receive your assignments from me personally," he sits a paper card face-down in front of you. "This is the name of your client and what time you can expect them to knock on your door. Along with your room number, in case it slips your mind." You pick both cards off the desk, almost expecting them to burn your fingers. But they're just objects. The only thing that can hurt you here is Snow.

"You've been very compliant thus far. I hope it's a trait you continue to possess in the future." The sound of his leather gloves squeaking against each other draws your attention for a beat. It's a welcome distraction from the blood rushing in your ears. "Now, there's something important I must ask you."

You look up at him, shaking where you sit. You know your face is twisted into a scowl and you dig your nails into your thighs.

What more does he want from you? He’s practically squeezing a stone, expecting blood, but can’t he see you have nothing left for him to take? But there’s something Snow knows that you haven’t considered. If you squeeze a rock hard enough, you get diamonds. Finnick finds you with your back pressed to the wall like you’re the only thing keeping it up, scowling at anyone who tries to start up a conversation with you.

"What's got you pouting, beautiful?" He teases, approaching you with a good-natured smile.

He leans in next to you, close enough that your bare arm brushes his satin-covered chest with every breath. He's a drink or two in, you can tell by the slant of his eyes and the flush in his cheeks.

You contemplate it for a second. Should you tell him? You need someone to talk to, or just to listen to you and he's the closest thing you've ever had to a friend in a very long time, especially in the Capitol. That certainly means something to you. You’re so far from your natural habitat and there’s safety in numbers. Though, you guess you’ve never really left the forest, have you? The same rules apply in the Capitol as they do in the wilderness: blend into your surroundings and if a predator spots you, pray to God they lose interest.

"Can I trust you, Finnick?" You ask in place of an answer, eyes locked on the crowd. Snow never said that you had to keep your arrangement to yourself, but it didn't hurt to be safe. You want to confide in him more than anything, but you need to be sure that Finnick won't trade your secret for another.

He straightens, sobering at your sudden seriousness. "Yeah. Yeah, of course."

You stare at him for a moment. You've talked to Finnick a handful of times and only had two meaningful conversations that didn't involve either of you flirting. By all means, you shouldn't trust him.

But you do. You really do.

You take him by the hand and pull him behind you, dodging socialites left and right, to a narrow corridor that nobody frequents. There are too many ears out there and the only people that walk down this hall are Avoxes. And it's not like they can tell anyone what they hear.

You stand across from each other, so close that your heels touch his boots when he leans against the wall. You open your mouth, hesitate, and close it.

Finnick pushes off the wall to touch your shoulder, leaning down to try to catch your eye. "What happened?"

You keep your gaze down; you don't know if you can stomach the look he'll give you when you tell him.

“Snow…” You trail off, losing steam fast. Finnick stiffens, his grip on your shoulder as tight as a corpse’s.

“What did Snow do?”

You launch into your explanation, starting with the letter you received and ending with the last question Snow asked you.

"And, when I agreed, he asked me if…if I was still a virgin. Apparently, there's a high demand for my first time." You pick at the skin around your nails, a habit your prep team admonished you for. Nothing pretty about bleeding, peeling fingers.

You bite the bullet and look up. His sea-green eyes are rocky and there's a grimace on his face. An angry tilt to his mouth, but that's it. No shock, no disgust, none of the emotions that this kind of revelation warrants. You take in his stance. He's tense, but he's not surprised. Almost as if he expected this.

"Finnick, are you...?" Your voice peters out lamely, unable to put words to what Snow is making you do, what you suspect he's been making Finnick do.

He rocks on his heels and lets out a slow puff of air from his nose. "Since I won my games."

You shake your head. That can't be right. "You were only fourteen."

"Only a select few in Snow's private circle could indulge in my services at first. But once I hit sixteen," he shrugs with a mean smile, "I was fair game." Of course. You had thought Finnick was handsome when he first won, in that passing way thirteen-year-olds often thought of others. Obviously, it was a shared consensus.

And Snow had said that he planned on speaking to you sooner—when you were younger. Stupid of you to think that he was swayed by something as trivial as morals.

"Who else is he forcing to do this?"

"You, me, and any other attractive victor with something to lose." The sleeves of his white blouse rub together as he crosses his arms, a sneer stretched on his pretty face. You're quiet. You think of Seeder. You think of Chaff and Haymitch. Cashmere and Gloss. You think of fourteen-year-old Finnick. You think of them in the same chair you were in, guns at their back and faced with an impossible task.

Were they as scared as you?

"I had thought...I thought that he wouldn't ask you," he looks at you with a gleam in his eyes that you recognize. It's the same one he had during that first dance. But you can distinguish it now because you feel it; he looks haunted, "Usually, he'd spring it on you as soon as you win, but he didn't with you, so I thought—I hoped …" He cuts himself off, staring over your shoulder. He bites his lip so hard you know it has to hurt.

You reach forward, using your thumb to pull his lip away from his teeth. He looks between your eyes for a second and you drop your hand. "Hoped what, Finnick?"

He clenches and unclenches his jaw. "I hoped you were safe." That's...you don't know what that is. Your heart is beating so fast you can feel it knocking against your ribcage. You lean your head back with a sigh. You close your eyes and resist the urge to rub at your chest. That's not supposed to happen. This isn't supposed to happen.

"It almost sounds like you care about me." You joke, voice wavering. You can't do this right now.

"I do," his arms drop beside him with another shrug, "I care about you." He says plainly, eyes locked on you. Evidently, he's not one to beat around the bush and, usually, you aren’t either. You don't say anything. Speechless is probably a better word for it. And then, he continues on like what he said isn't a revelation within itself.

"Snow says it's to ensure loyalty, and maybe that's true, but it's not the only reason. His goal, above all else, is to further drive the wedge between victors and the Capitol," he says, an echo of your first conversation. "We're not human, not to them. He made sure of that."

Neither of you talks, the silence heavy with the truth of that statement. You're well informed now, and you aren't alone in your imprisonment to Snow. You aren't sure what to do with that. It certainly doesn't make you feel better, and it doesn't change the fact that you only have two hours and forty minutes before your appointment.

Finnick must be able to feel the anxiety wafting off you in waves because he grabs your hand and…pinches the skin between your thumb and forefinger? "What the hell are you doing?" You half-heartedly tug at his grip, more out of reflex than anything else, but he holds on tight.

"It's a pressure point. You squeeze it when you're stressed or anxious—a trick I learned from Mags." He slides his thumb down to where the bone of your pointer finger meets your thumb and presses down. You both stand like that for at least ten seconds.

"...It hurts."

"It's supposed to," he laughs, soft lips pulled into a grin. "The pain, it's supposed to be distracting." It's definitely uncomfortable, but the only thing you're distracted by is his touch. You don't know if it's some kind of placebo effect or if this pressure point shit actually has some validity, but your heart doesn't feel like it'll beat through your ribs anymore.

Or, the third option. It has nothing to do with the pressure point and everything to do with the man in front of you. This close, his scent engulfs you. Saltwater and something sweet buried under it, a smell you're sure will still be caught in your nose long after you go home.

He digs in a pocket of his billowy pants and places a card in your hand.

"Here," it's the same as the one Snow gave you. The only difference is the name, the time, and the room number. 2064, "It's one of my regulars, so I don't need it." He states in such a nonchalant manner, it almost sounds normal to you.

"Regulars?" You frown before you can catch yourself. A seventeen-year-old shouldn't have regulars.

"Don't make that face. I don't need your pity. We're in the same boat, remember?" He asks, but it's one of those rhetorical questions that only have one answer.

"Right." At this point, the waves have capsized your boat. You're drowning, water filling your lungs, but at least you're drowning together.

"Look, he puts us all on the same floor." He's still holding your hand with both of his. Like it's something delicate, something worth being gentle with. Like it hasn't taken lives. "If you need me, you know where to find me." He offers with a tender squeeze of your hand. And, despite yourself, you believe him. If you need him, Finnick will be there.

A thought that's just as comforting as it is terrifying. He removes one of his hands from yours and thrusts it forward—correction, one of his pinkies forward in a gesture similar to the one you did months before. You only hesitate for a second before locking yours with his.

A silent promise.

“Any advice?”

“Advice,” he laughs, short and brittle. “Yeah. Just…breathe and endure. It’s all any of us can really do.” His voice is angry, but his eyes are mournful. That’s definitely not the kind of advice you wanted to hear and you can tell it’s obviously not the kind he wants to give. But what were you expecting, some kind of miracle cure? That’s not the way this works.

You could always just… disappear. If not physically, then mentally. A trick you picked up in Eleven when the grueling work days got especially long and—Finnick’s pinky is still locked with yours, you hadn’t even registered it. He doesn’t seem too nonplussed about the prolonged contact, quite the opposite, actually.

And, well, it's not like you're complaining.

Present (III) - Finnick

[23 & 24] - DISTRICT FOUR

The escort for District Four, Freesia Ashwind, stands before a rowdy crowd. Most, if not all, of the citizens, are excited to see who will represent them in the Games.

It makes him sick.

Finnick stares at the back of her magenta head and cracks his fingers behind him.

When Finnick was younger, he hated her. Out of all the names she could have picked, all the lives she could have ruined, she picked his. She inadvertently had a hand in the years of suffering he endured. And when he was fourteen, alone and hurting, blaming Snow wasn't enough.

It's different now. He's older and wiser, and he does still hate her, but no more than he hates every other Capitol. He tunes her out and tries to remember if he's had sex with her.

After preaching the same spiel she's said every year, she finally says something of substance.

"Now, normally, it's ladies first. However, since it's such a special occasion, how about we switch it up a bit?" The crowd roars, exhilarated, hanging on to her every word. He's sure she could recite the entire history of Panem and they'd cheer. District Four doesn't suck from the teat of the Capitol like One and Two do, but it's still a wealthy, Career district.

She approaches the bowl on her right instead of her left.

He stands alone as the sole male victor. There used to be three others, but they either drowned in their liquor or overdosed on their Morphling. Despite that, she makes a show of it. Swirling her hand around the empty bowl until she plucks the only paper out with a gasp, exaggerated in nature as most people of the Capitol are.

"Finnick Odair!” He doesn’t know what he was expecting. There—there was no other outcome. Still, he goes cold, heart growing heavy with reality sinking into it.

Finnick is a good actor. Maybe not the best, but he's certainly up there. Not many people could see through his veneer. It's fragile, cracks and instability on display to anyone who truly knows him—and even then, that's only three people.

Two of them stand beside him now, waiting to see where the sword will fall. And the other…

Finnick waves to the cheering crowd with a closed-mouth smile.

The other is lost to him.

He plays up his enthusiasm, winking and waving. He dons the mask they chose for him: Golden boy of the Capitol, a born killer. Why wouldn't he be excited to get back in the ring? A couple more thoughts like that and maybe he'll start believing it.

"Ladies next!" A hush settles over the crowd. No one is excited to see this. He glances to his left. Annie is shaking as Mags holds onto her.

It's so quiet, Finnick can hear the tape tearing off the paper.

"Annie Cres—” Annie is screaming before Freesia even finishes. He faces forward, biting his cheeks to shit.

"Oh, it seems we have a volunteer!" He almost breaks his neck from turning so fast. Mags has her hand held high, gesturing to herself.

The crowd cheers, but this time they cheer for Mags's bravery. Finnick feels like crying.

As the cameras zoom in on them, he breaks protocol and goes to comfort her. He holds Mags close and kisses the top of her head. He's known her for most of his life and he's still surprised by her selflessness. She must know how high the deck is stacked against her. That, even with him beside her, the odds aren't in her favor. And she still volunteered. There's a reason you and her got along so well.

He looks at Annie. Her hands are over her ears and she stares back mournfully, more lucid than she's been in years. She makes to come towards them before she's intercepted and ushered off the stage like a sheep.

Finnick wonders who will take care of her with both of them gone. Annie may not be going into the arena, but this is just as much a death sentence for her as it is for them.

Right about now, the reaping for Eleven should be taking place.

Finnick knows Snow well, more than he'd ever admit. He knows, without a doubt, that he put Seeder's name in twice.

But there's a chance that he doesn't know you as well as he thinks he does. Two years is plenty of time for a person to change. God, he hopes he's wrong about you. He hopes you've grown mean and callous, and you wouldn't even think about trading your life for someone else's.

He hopes you're safe.

Peacekeepers approach. Far more cordial than they'd be with the lower districts, but still gripping their guns tight. "Right this way, Mr. Odair." One of them says. He and Mags follow after him, like pampered pigs to the slaughter.

Present (III) - You

[23 & 24 ] - DISTRICT ELEVEN

You don't remember the walk to the stage. You've been out of it since the Quarter Quell was announced. You remember specific instances of Chaff forcing you and Seeder to train, your mother following you around like a shadow—and when you come to, it's to a sea of despondent faces. Every District Eleven resident, young and old, stands before you.

Argon Wellway is the same announcer Eleven has had for the past five years. His neon purple hair remains stiff despite the breeze. You've always loved purple. It's an odd dichotomy to see something you love on something you hate.

He steps to the mic, enthusiastic and jaunty despite the dour reception he receives from his audience.

"Hello, District Eleven! Are we excited for the Quarter Quell," he pauses with a wide smile, every tooth on display. The crowd stays silent, "Well, I certainly am. And so is everyone in the Capitol!"

He steps back, attitude impervious to everyone around him. "Now, for the men!"

You pity Chaff. He stands by himself on the left, bearing the weight of being the only male victor of Eleven. He never had a chance.

Argon approaches the bowl on the left like a magician, showy with big movements. He pulls the card out and stands by the mic. "Chaff Mitchell!"

Chaff doesn't move from where he stands, there's no point.

Seeder takes your hand and you squeeze back with numb fingers. You don't know where her kids are, the mass of people too big to pick out three children, but you look for them nonetheless. You wonder what they're feeling. You wonder what you’re feeling.

"On to the female victors. This one is especially exciting, a fifty-fifty chance!" There's not a wrinkle on his face as he smiles, skin too tight with Botox. It makes him look inhuman, fitting.

"Which one, which one," his fingers dance between the two cards inside the bowl, going back and forth like it was a guessing game and not someone's life on the line. He goes on like that longer than needed before deciding, "Aha! This one."

He steps back to the mic, tearing the tape off the back of the paper before announcing, "Seeder Howell!"

She is quiet, face twisted in an attempt to keep back tears. Her grip is crushing as if she's scared they will drag her away. And you move without putting much thought into the decision.

You raise your free hand and say, "I volunteer." You don't yell it, you don't need to.

Your mother lets out a shrill, throat-shredding scream, her voice only elevated by the silence surrounding it. This will be the last thing you hear from her.

Seeder holds on to your hand as you step forward, grip tight. There are tears in her eyes, lips trembling around words she doesn't have the strength to say.

"I know," And you do. As a mother, she's grateful, but as your mentor—well, "Let me do this for you." You say, but it isn't a request. You're going back into the arena whether she gives you her blessing or not. You can admit your reasons for volunteering aren't entirely selfless. You're going up against seasoned fighters, all prepared to do what it takes to survive.

But—you don't have to win. No one expects you to win and that...that thought is relieving. You aren't planning on rolling over in the arena and letting someone get a free kill, but this is something Snow won't be able to work around. No matter how hard he tries, he can't manipulate the outcome of the games. And he'll have no one to blame but himself, no one to punish. It's cowardice, in a way, but you're tired. And you think you've been tired for a long time now. You'd be stupid not to take this ticket out.

Most eyes pity you. You're essentially volunteering yourself to put your head under the executioner's sword. However, some eyes envy you. You're leaving Eleven. For good. For many of the citizens, death is a small price to pay for freedom. But there’s something else, something everyone in the crowd shares. There’s anger, a righteous fury in every face you see.

Is this the view your dad had? Are these the faces he saw before he was lynched?

You spot your mom a few rows back, someone holding her up. She's inconsolable. You take a moment to look at her for the last time. After you die, they'll make her move out of your house, but you know without asking that Seeder will take care of her.

"This is certainly a surprise! Very exciting," Argon grabs the stump of Chaff's right arm and the wrist of your left, lifting them into the air, "We have our tributes!"

No one claps. You don't expect them to.

Things move pretty quickly after that. You're given no time to say goodbye. No time to try and run.

Peacekeepers approach and the hands that grab you are rough with their treatment, dragging you and Chaff in the direction of the train.

There'll be many victors facing the guillotine, many of your friends forced into a death march.

You look to the sky, a quick glance before you're ushered to the train. It's a sunny day with plump white clouds on a baby blue backdrop. It might be the last time you see the real sky as a free woman. Calm and beautiful despite the carnage happening under it.

You close your eyes for a moment and think. For the first time in almost two years, you'll see Finnick.

#catching fire #hunger games catching fire #hunger games fanfiction #thg #finnick odair #finnick odair x reader #finnick x reader #finnick odair fanfic #and they'd find us in a week

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rahuratna · 2 months

Text

Geriatric Kaisen (Part 1)

Megumi arrives back at Jujutsu Tech after a day out to find ... some alarming changes to its inhabitants.

CW: Foul language

Genre: Humour, crack, fluff, suspense.

(A quick scribble in between updates. Please don't hurt me for this, dear readers.)

It started with a strange shift on the breeze. Barely perceptible, to Megumi's reckoning, but the honing of his senses told him that something may not be right. That, and the soft growling that came from the shikigami flanking him, their hackles bristling in coordinated aggression.

Sticking out a warning hand, he advanced along the winding avenue that led to the main entrance of Jujutsu Tech, alert and watchful. This certainly hadn't been the first time an attack had been launched on the school. Even with all of its protective enchantments, Jujutsu Tech was a known stronghold for the sorcerers, and was therefore a prime target for their more powerful enemies.

The cans of soda he'd purchased from the convenience store clinked softly against each other in the shopping bag he held, the rustling of the limited edition crisps a distraction. He set the bag down and proceeded, footsteps light and body tense, fingertips twitching. Wincing slightly, he remembered what else the bag contained.

A cupcake.

Probably squashed beyond recognition now. The icing was pink and white, stodgy, wrapped tightly in plastic, handed over by the wrinkled hands of the old woman he had helped count change at the till. Even Megumi could admit that the elderly had a known weakness for him, a tendency to pat his spiky hair and murmur about what a 'good boy' he was. If only they knew the half of it.

The imposing sliding doors of the tech had now come into view. Nothing was out of the ordinary. Megumi considered for a moment before deciding that reconnaissance was priority. He brought his hands together in an imitation of his shikigami's great wings, taking a breath before opening his mouth to speak Nue's name into the soft breeze, when the sliding doors opened.

Immediately, the hounds at his side went alert, but Megumi frowned. They were not reacting in the way he'd expected. Noses raised to the air, they were sniffing cautiously, but without enmity. Eyes narrowing, Megumi took in the man standing in the doorway.

Was this someone he knew?

The figure was coming forward slowly now, the russet afternoon burnishing their flowing silver hair.

Silver?

Yes, that's what it seemed like.

The person was obviously older, maybe the same age as the woman he'd seen at the pay point earlier. In spite of this, they still moved with an ease that spoke of strength and grace, the surefootedness of someone who could hold their own, even at this age. There was not much else he could make out at this distance, save for the dark glasses and walking stick they were twirling effortlessly in their hand.

He approached, pace matching the elderly man's. Stopping a few feet away, Megumi frowned as his shikigami began to whine and wag their tails slightly.

How was this possible? He didn't know this man. Unless this was ... some kind of trap, possibly? But how could they have fooled the uncanny senses of the dogs? Taking a bracing breath, Megumi decided that the best way to clear things up was adopting a direct approach.

"Excuse me, sir. Are you lost?"

The white-maned head turned slowly in his direction. The man's voice was firm and clear, with only the slightest tremor of age.

"Me? Lost? Are you for real right now?"

Well now. There was definitely something familiar about that tone. And using language like that ...

Brows pinching together, Megumi kept his hands at the ready.

"What do you ... You realise that this is a school, right? Did you take a wrong turn and get lost somewhere? I can direct you, if you like."

To his consternation, the old man started laughing so hard that the walking stick shuddered perilously in his grasp.

"Wait, you don't recognize me like this?"

"Should I?"

"Megumi, it's me."

"What?"

"You're super special, strongest in the world, hottest in the universe, perfect skin, perfect hair sensei."

Megumi was silent for minute, taking some time to process what was being said to him. Something clicked sooner rather than later, because now his eyes were widening and he took a step back.

"Wait .... Gojo? Is that you?"

"Course it's me. God, you're so dumb for a smart kid - "

"But what happened to you? Are the others okay? What's going on here?"

"Relax. It's some kind of field technique. Not a domain. Covered the whole campus and made us like this, but didn't do much else. That's why I came out here. To maybe draw them out, see what they're after."

To say that Megumi was horrified was an understatement.

"You came outside like this? Are you crazy? They'll - wait. Let's go back in, please. This place is exposed."

His eyes darted to the treeline, taking stock of their surroundings.

"Gojo, did you even stop to consider that this is exactly what they want? You, in a weakened state - "

"Weakened? Weakened?"

Gojo was laughing again, in that truly insufferable way he had, now with the added irritation of his hand slapping hard at his knee like a drunk salaryman egging on his co-workers at karaoke.

"Boy, if you think I'm weakened in any way, you've got another think coming."

Clicking his tongue in aggravation, Megumi grabbed elderly Gojo's arm and attempted to drag him back to the building. It was like dragging the heaviest sack of potatoes known to man. Gojo barely moved an inch.

"See? You still think I'm weak?"

"Did you turn off your infinity just to prove that to me?"

"Sure did. Now, let's see."

Gojo pulled off the dark glasses and suddenly Megumi was confronted with the irrefutable evidence that this was, indeed, his sensei. Those crystal hued eyes would have been exceptionally hard to replicate, by anyone's standards. Bordered by deeply etched crow's feet, stark in their brightness against the spotted skin and wispy hair, it was evident that they had lost none of their slightly unhinged daredevilry.

"I spy ... with my little ... damn, things are looking kinda hazy out here. Anyway, what's that? There, in the grass?"

Confused, Megumi glanced back the way he had come and spotted the shopping bag lying where he had left it.

"Oh. I went to the seven eleven for some stuff."

"Bring it over here."

"Are you serious right now? Can you please get inside?"

"I'll go inside if you get the bag," Gojo sang, voice quivering with cheerful infirmity.

"Oh, for the love of - Fine! Just ... just go to the door and wait there."

"Okay, sonny boy."

"Don't call me that!"

Stomping over to the shopping bag, Megumi snatched it up, pausing as the cold nose of his shikigami pressed comfortingly into his hand. The other hound had actually remained at Gojo's side, walking slowly beside the aged sorcerer as he made his way back to the sliding doors. Sighing, Megumi rubbed at the bridge of his nose before following.

"So, you said this field technique, whatever it is, made us like this? Are the others also affected?"

"Oh yeah. I had them all gather in the staff lounge. We've got our weapons and protections too, so don't look at me like that."

"So you don't think what you did was spectacularly stupid?"

"Not as stupid as you for not getting any sweets. Are these savoury snacks all you eat?"

"I eat them once a week! Unlike you."

"Wait, what's this?"

Gojo's questing fingers had encountered the soft give of the cupcake. He drew it out and gave a croaky chuckle.

"How kind! You did think of me!"

"I didn't. Someone gave that to me."

"It's pink! Does that mean it's strawberry?"

"It's just food colouring."

"But I wanted strawberry."

"Just eat the cupcake, please."

They had reached the staff lounge by now and Gojo raised his hand, a soft pulse echoing from his fingertips through the door. Probably a means to identify himself to whatever protective technique had been placed on the door. Entering, Megumi stopped dead in his tracks.

Now this was a sight.

Standing at the coffee machine, hands on hips, was a woman with narrowed, hawk-like amber eyes and bobbed salt and pepper hair, her frame and intimidating bearing very familiar in spite of the added height and wiry muscle she now possessed.

"What do you mean I shouldn't have another? Coffee is all I've got going for me, at this point."

"Kugisaki, just calm down. We don't know what kind of side effects this technique has. Your heart may not be able to handle that much caffeine!"

These words came from beneath the grizzled mustache of a man who could only be Yuuji. The phrase 'cool uncle' had never fitted anyone else so well. Even aged to somewhere in the region of his sixties, Yuuji was still hale and hearty, his much taller stature and rippling muscles making the uniform he wore look some kind of miniature cosplay. His pink hair was slightly faded, but tied back in a short ponytail that somehow suited him very well.

"Just step away from the coffee machine - "

"Like hell I will!"

"Oh my God. Maki-senpai, please talk some sense into her?"

"Don't called me senpai. That's weird right now."

Megumi's gaze moved reluctantly over to the woman in question. Seated cross legged on the floor, sharpening one of her weapons with the manner of one who did such things to calm down, Maki was definitely the epitome of aged warrior. Her green hair was now shot with grey, cropped short, jacket and shirt pulled open, her exceptionally powerful shoulders and arms exposed in the vest she wore underneath.

Megumi was secretly relieved that some of them were still clearly in great fighting shape, because he had no idea who had created the aging technique or why.

"Wait."

Gojo leaned forward on his walking stick, scanning the room with a squint.

"Where did Nanami and Ijichi go?"

Maki shrugged.

"Went to gather some supplies. Nanami said something about food and Ijichi went with him. We've been holed up in here all morning, so this lot is getting cranky."

Yuuji huffed, and the petulant expression looked exceptionally incongruous on his rugged, bearded face.

"I'm not the one who's cranky. Look at Kugisaki over here."

"I need to feel calm!"

"And you think five cups of coffee are gonna help you? Be for real!"

"Coffee calms me!"

"You're weird as hell, then!"

It was at this moment that Yuuji and Nobara spied Megumi who let out a silent, internal scream when they both swiveled to face him, eyes narrowing accusingly.

"Fushiguro?"

"What the fuck?"

"Wait, why didn't the technique affect you?"

"I was out all morning, running errands. I just got back from the convenience store."

Nobara threw her hands up.

"How is this fair? The guy who acts like an old man twenty-four seven is fine, but we're the ones with janky knees and back pain that never goes away."

Megumi frowned.

"I do not act like an old man."

At that moment, the protective technique across the door, probably effected by Ijichi, resonated once more and the two men who shuffled in made Megumi stare even longer.

Nanami's hair was now pure white, but his posture was still dignified and straight, the natural lines that defined his clear cut features more pronounced than ever. His imposing figure was a little spare, the distinctive suit now hanging slightly about the chest and shoulders. Age had only added to his dignity.

Ijichi was fiddling with his glasses, liver-spotted fingers pushing them further up his nose as he squinted through them at Megumi. The assistant manager was already shedding hair at an alarming rate, a distinct bald patch appearing at the top of his head, shoulders sunk in a permanent hunch, fingers bent arthritically.

"Who - ohhh, Fushiguro. Nice to see that the curse didn't get you."

Gojo growled and spun on his heel.

"Where did you two idiots go? I told you to stay put."

Nanami raised a thin, pale eyebrow.

"We went to get food. We needed it."

"You could have sent Yuuji or Nobara - "

"And you could have waited in here instead of going out to antagonize whoever did this. Looks like your ego got worse with age."

"And that stick up your ass got worse with age too."

Nanami scoffed and removed his signature shades. The eyes behind them were as sharp and calculating as always, in spite of the lines that graced their corners.

"On the contrary. Being in this state has opened my eyes to many things."

Yuuji glanced over curiously, his mouth already stuffed with the onigiri Ijichi had placed on the table.

"Whaddaya mean, Nanamin?"

"Meaning that the frailty of the human condition has impressed itself upon me."

He was met with a blank stare from the pink-bearded man, but Ijichi piped up from behind him.

"Oh, I get you, Nanami. I understand."

Nobara folded her arms.

"Well, let's hear it then."

"If this is what it feels like being old ... then why waste the time we have left worrying about pointless things?"

Yuuji waved his hands in concern.

"Whoa, whoa, stop right there. This is a cursed technique, meaning it can be reversed, right? Right?"

Gojo was examining his fingernails.

"Maybe."

"Maybe? Are you being serious right now? I can't be an old man! I'm not ready."

Gojo nodded in commiseration.

"Oh, I know, I know. I wasn't ready to lose my youthful hot body either."

"That's not - "

Ijichi interrupted with a quavery shout that shocked them all into silence.

"Fuck paperwork!"

Megumi stared.

"Err ... what?"

"Fuck it. Fuck all of it. And fuck you too, Gojo!"

"Eh?"

"See how I'm losing my hair? This is your doing! You're the one who stresses me out every day! But no more! I don't have to take this shit. Look at the state of my knees! I don't care anymore. Nobody's going to boss me around!"

Gojo pointed a slightly unsteady finger at the manager.

"Oh, excuse me for being the strongest sorcerer who keeps evil at bay and saves your butt on the regular."

"Well, you didn't save us from this, did you? You're a sad old grandpa, just like me! See how the worm turns?"

"Why, you little shit stirrer, I'll - "

"Enough."

Megumi breathed a sigh of relief as Nanami once again proved himself to be the only sane adult in the room, even under these circumstances.

"Gojo, please. This event has obviously shaken Ijichi. You should be more understanding. Here, you need food too. Take these onigiri. They have red bean filling."

Mumbling slightly, Gojo set aside the cupcake he held, taking the parcel and beginning to undo the paper wrapping. He picked out one of the onigiri and froze, his head slowly lifting to stare at Nanami. Megumi frowned and looked over his shoulder.

The onigiri Gojo held was shaped, very recognizably, as a penis.

Nanami stared back at the white haired sorcerer impassively, prompting Gojo to speak.

"Nanami. What the heck is this?"

"An onigiri."

"I can see that, you old fart! I mean, why is it shaped like this?"

"Oh, that? It's so that you can ... how do I put this? Eat a dick."

The rest of the room's occupants looked on in no small surprise as Ijichi snorted, covering his mouth, shoulders heaving. Nanami's mouth twitched, before a deep, hearty chuckle emerged from his chest. Before long, the two elderly men had doubled over, Gojo's angry expression apparently too much for them to handle.

"I ... haven't laughed like this since ..."

"Oh, oh, please. My bladder ... isn't what it used to be."

This set them off on a fresh round of laughter, which struck Gojo out of his stupor. He rapped the table sharply with his walking stick.

"Oi! Are you two assholes forgetting who's keeping everyone safe right now?"

"With what? The power of your Infinite Diaper?"

Megumi got between Gojo and the others before the purple glow he'd seen forming around the old sorcerer's hand could take out half the room.

"Let's just ... calm down. We need to find a way out of this technique. Any ideas?"

Nobara was looking at him in a way he didn't like at all. She came forward, a small, dangerous smile playing around her lips.

"And who made you boss, baby boy? I'm your elder now, and you do what I say."

It was Megumi's turn to lose his temper.

"Like hell I will!"

"Oh, I'm going to enjoy this. Now tell us your idea while you give me a back rub."

Maki grunted from her place on the floor.

"And when you're done with her, come crack my neck for me. Feels kinda stiff."

Gojo immediately forgot his feud with the two cackling sorcerers opposite him.

"Hey, Megumiiiii, I'm your sensei. You gotta listen to me first. Be a good boy and break this cupcake up for me. Then take out all the choc chips. I wanna eat them separately, cos they'll get stuck in my gums."

Feeling his blood pressure suddenly skyrocket, Megumi swore violently in his head at the crackpot curse user who had thought this would be a good use of their time and useless technique. If any of these old coots died, it would probably be by his own two hands.

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