wrunic

[shouyuus]

doctor, doctor

zayne; 3,377; fluff and smut, no "y/n", knowing use of sex drugs, handjob, oral (f!receiving), face riding, shockingly soft intermission, missionary, internal creampies, banter (it's zayne duh), needy!zayne

summary: zayne volunteers as a guinea pig to test out an antidote to a new love drug. spoiler alert: the antidote sucks.

a/n: phew! i haven't written this much porn in... /checks watch/ well ever really. but im not that mad about it! it's a genre i've always felt a bit weak in so im glad to get some practice :) pls enjoy!

aphrodite made me!! masterlist

─── 黎深 YOU KNOW SOMETHING’S WRONG the second he gets home. There’s a bright flush to his cheeks, a glassy look to his eyes, and he reaches out to brace himself against the counter almost as soon as he’s through the door, sucking in a deep breath.

“Z-Zayne? What’s wrong?” you rush up to him, reaching out to press a palm to his cheek, lashes fluttering as you pull it away, startled. “Oh my god, you’re burning up!”

“No — it’s fine. I’m fine.” He tries to push you away, but can’t help the soft groan that leaves his lips as he nuzzles into your touch. You frown, letting him press into the palm of your hand before he turns to drop a kiss to your skin, looking down at you with hooded eyes. “It’s… not what you think.”

“Not what I…” you blink up at him, worry slowly being eclipsed by a trembling uncertainty.

Something’s not right, you think, but judging by the way he’s still able to hold himself steady, he’s not that sick. So then —

“Ah… fuck —” he curses, leaning forward to bury his nose into your shoulder, tugging you to him in a sudden embrace that has you squeaking, startled by the strength of his hold. And you’re not imagining it; up this close, you can feel his thready heartbeat reverberating through his chest to yours, and his arms around you — is he… trembling?

“Zayne?”

It’s so rare that he curses so easily, so openly. Usually, this kind of language is reserved for the bedroom but —

You go still in his arms, heat washing up the back of your neck into your cheeks as you feel the unmistakable hardness against your hip. Your mind grinds to a startling halt as you try to reconcile these two pieces of strange, incompatible information.

He’s sick… but he’s hard?

“Sorry — I just —” he tries to pull away, shaking his head as if to clear it but his eyes are still glazed when he stumbles back and lets himself sag against the closed front door. You let your eyes take stock of him — his ruddy cheeks and fluttering lashes, the shiver in his limbs, the clench in his jaw as he looks anywhere but at you.

“Zayne. What’ going on?”

He almost hisses at the sharp edge to your tone.

“There’s a new drug out on the market,” he says, his voice thin even as he cards a hand through his hair and tries to take a steadying breath. “It’s… being sold underground, and it’s a potent —” he swallows, tugging at his collar, and it’s only then that you notice the thin sheen of sweat glistening over his skin, “— a potent love drug.”

Your eyebrows skyrocket as you blink up at him.

“A… love drug?”

Zayne sighs, frowning slightly as he jerks at his tie, pulling the knot loose to let it hang around his neck as he thumbs at the top button of his shirt. His fingers, usually so quick and nimble, seem strangely uncoordinated. And after a second, you reach out to gently swat his hand away, popping the top button for him, blushing as he hisses out a breath and lets his head thump back against the door.

“Yes,” he answers, his voice clipped as he tries to look anywhere but at your face. “Our R&D department has been developing a cure and —”

“And?” you ask, letting your finger trace down the thin band of his exposed chest to catch on the next button of his shirt.

“And…” he swallows, his adam’s apple bobbing up and down as he purses his lips, “they needed willing participants to —”

Understanding floods through you like a wash of cold water. You let out a disbelieving laugh.

“You volunteered to test the antidote,” you say, staring up at his flushed face, his sweat-slick skin, the unfocused fracture to his eyes, the way his pupils are blown so wide they look almost entirely black.

You lick your lips, feeling another wave of heat crest through you as tingles shoot down your spine at the thought.

“Yes,” he answers again, sounding aggrieved and relieved both that you’ve finally understood.

“But…” you let your words trail off, letting your eyes rake down his trembling body and back up again.

Zayne sighs, shaking his head, “Well, it’s a work in progress.”

“Mm,” you hum, biting back a laugh that you know wouldn’t be entirely appropriate, given the desperate look on his face. Still, that forbidden knot had started to twist in your gut as you assess the situation.

It’s not every day that chance delivers your boyfriend so pliant and willing to your literal shared front door. And you’ve never been one to look a gift horse in the mouth.

“So?” you say, taking half a step back and folding your arms, reveling in the way he tips forward immediately to chase your warmth. “How do we —” you wave a hand towards him, feeling a strange, impossible fit of giggles threatening to spill from you at the sheer absurdity of the situation.

Zayne slates you a rueful look before leaning back to pinch at his nose bridge.

“T-the researchers say that the effects —” he pauses to take another deep breath. You can’t help noticing the increasingly obvious bulge in his work slacks and you feel your own thighs tense as the knot in your stomach twists just a tad tighter. “The effects should wear off on their own in a few hours but…”

“But?” you prompt, lacing your hands behind your back as you teeter on the balls of your feet, feeling an ever-familiar tingle race from the nape of your neck to the tips of your toes.

“But… there’s nothing much to do except to —” Zayne���s fingers twitch as he forces himself to open his eyes and stare at a nondescript point over your shoulder, “to ride it out, as they say.”

At this, you break — you fall into a fit of giggles that has Zayne sighing again as he pushes himself off the door and making his unsteady way to the bedroom.

“W-wait! Where’re you going?” you ask, tugging at his arm.

He twists to stare at you, “I — to bed. Or I can sleep on the couch tonight if it’ll make you more —”

You roll your eyes and yank him down for a kiss. He can’t even pretend to protest as he moans and melts into the heat of your mouth. You thread your fingers through his hair and feel his palms gripping at your waist, tight, and then tighter.

“Y’know… for a smart guy… you’re really kind of clueless sometimes.”

“Y-yeah?” Zayne asks, his breath hot against your lips. You nod, letting him tug you both back towards the bedroom, him nearly stumbling in his haste, you biting back another fit of giggles as he sits down hard on the edge of the bed and slots you between his legs, running his hands up and down the backs of your legs, fingers dancing towards the lace trimming of your panties.

“Did you really think that I wasn’t going to help you?” you ask, your voice low.

He lets out another thick groan as you cup his cheeks and tilt his head back to look at you.

“I — I don’t — I thought that maybe —” he stutters, but you shake your head.

“C’mon doc,” you say, grinning as his eyes narrow. You give his chest a light push and watch, satisfied, as he allows himself topple back onto the mattress. “Tell me where it hurts.”

He sucks in a breath between his teeth, staring at you with a look of such unadulterated love that you find yourself almost getting shy. Almost. You crawl onto the bed, nudging apart his legs, walking your fingers up this thighs as he jerks, head falling back into the pillows.

“Please…” the plea leaves his lips parted, and you feel the heat pulse between your own legs, feel your mouth water as you look down at the pliant, panting form of Zayne’s body, spread out on the bed, his chest rising and falling at quick intervals as he watches you from beneath hooded eyes.

Briefly, you consider teasing him, but disregard the thought after realizing that he’d probably driven home feeling much like this. And you reach up to tug loose the belt, making quick work of his trousers, pulling down his boxers to reveal his cock — thick and leaking so much precum that your hands come away sticky.

“A-ah — fuck.” Again, he swears, as you tentatively wrap your fingers around his girth, and it’s not the first time you’ve done this, nor will it be the last, but it never fails to surprise you (just a little) how thick he is in your hands — how your fingers don’t reach all the way around.

You give him a few solid pumps, feeling the angry veins pulse beneath your palms as you try to work up a tempo, his hips jumping as he lets out a string of deep, throaty moans that have you clenching around nothing.

“Wait — wait —” he reaches for you, his thighs jumping slightly as your rhythm slows, and he hisses out a long breath, his brows furrowed as you tease your thumb around the underside of his cock hood, allowing yourself a tiny, devious grin as he whimpers high in the back of his throat.

“Yes, doc? Did you have any… complaints?” you drag your tongue across your lips before leaning down and letting your hot breath fan over his purpling head, feeling the heat between your own legs spread through you as thick beads of precum ooze from his slit.

“Come — come here —” he motions up the bed and you cock your head, glancing back down at what you’re certain is quite the painful erection.

“You don’t want…” you tighten your hold around his shaft as he catches his lips in his teeth and groans.

“I — I do. But I want —” he swallows, his eyes squeezing shut for a brief second, “I want to taste you.”

Desire curls solid at the base of your spine as you feel yourself throbbing at the thought. Zayne’s never been anything but a devout lover, and you’d often reflected that it really does pay to have a boyfriend who has a truly occupational knowledge of human anatomy.

“Yeah?” you ask, your own voice going breathy as you inch up the mattress, his hands settling so easily on the plush of your thighs, his eyes flitting up and down your body almost as if he doesn’t quite know where to look. You lift up your skirt and tug off your panties, with the full intention of lowering yourself slowly, but with a wretched moan, Zayne pulls you down over his face hard enough for you to gasp, your weight tipping forward so hard that you have to brace your hands on the backboard to stop yourself from toppling right over.

You feel his tongue lick a long strip along the seam of your cunt, the sting of his fingers digging into your thighs as he holds you over his mouth, groaning into the sopping heat of you, his tongue already pushing into you as he gives your clit a hard suck that has your mind fizzing out into tv static.

“Z-Zayne — oh fuck —!”

He strains against you, pressing his face so far into you you’re almost afraid he’s going to suffocate, but he only holds you tighter when you try to pull away, his mouth chasing your puffy lips. You grind yourself against his face, feeling his nose nudge at your clit as he sinks his tongue ever deeper into you, fucking it into you with a perverse need.

And it doesn't take long like this, not when he's so intimately aware of all your softest parts, all your most sensitive places.

“I — ah — ah — I’m s-so —” you stutter, as you feel the familiar tightening in your belly, the coil twisting as thin tendrils of heat start to skitter up through your limbs and you feel your orgasm building inside you.

Zayne lets out a debauched moan, letting it rumble from his mouth straight into your cunt and it’s enough to have your eyes fluttering shut as you break over his mouth, whimpering, hips stuttering as the white-hot fire chases washes through you in a great wave, leaving you feeling boneless and slightly winded.

Zayne pulls away panting, licking his lips, his eyes dark as an oil spill, completely devoid of light as he stares up at you, his gaze more licentious than you’ve ever seen it before. Even in the champagne-bubble weightlessness of your post-orgasmic haze, you recognize the crystalizing need in his movements as he releases your thighs, his handprints inked into your skin, red and fresh — you’re sure they’ll still be there tomorrow.

“H-how do you want me?” you ask, your voice a little slurred as he reaches up to wipe a thumb along his bottom lip, collecting the remnants of your slick there, only to lean in and press his mouth to yours. You groan against him, the messy tang of your own juices sharp on your tongue as he kisses you, pressing you back into the mattress till you’re pinned beneath him.

“Just like this…” he whispers, and you marvel at the restraint still in his actions, even as he quickly sheds the rest of his clothing, tossing them off into the careless dark of the room.

There’s a moment, caught in-between one kiss and the next, where he pulls back and looks at you, his eyes so soft, his expression unguarded, where you wonder if you’ll ever be able to see yourself through his eyes, and a tender warmth spreads through you as you realize that this is what love has always meant to feel like. There have been fireworks, yes, and whirlwinds. There’ve been storms and sunny days. But there will always be moments like this, caught in the almost light of a moonless night, when you are so much more than the sum of your parts, added together.

When your bodies are more breath than air, skin and share, and all the parts of you that you might’ve wanted to hide from the world are here, collected in the negative space between your bodies, held and loved like buried treasure.

“I love you,” he says, quietly, simply.

You gasp as you feel him pushing into you, his cock stretching you till you’re nearly breathless.

“I — I love you too.”

Zayne nods, fucks into you till he’s bottomed out, and though you can feel his arms trembling with the effort, he holds still to let you adjust. And it’s not till you give him a tiny nod that he puffs out a held breath and pulls back to fuck right back into you again. You keen, head tossing back into the mess of sheets, feeling every vein and ridge of his cock as it drags along your clenching walls.

“I don’t — I won’t be able to —” he can’t make out a full sentence, but you don’t care, just the size and weight of him are enough to make your vision blinker out at the edges.

“Mm — h-harder — please Zayne —” and its his name more than anything that proves his undoing. He lets out a clipped grunt before straightening and pulling your legs up, shifting your hips till you’re flush against him.

“Y-yeah — I’ve got you —” he gives you calf a quick kiss before rucking his hips down, his cock ramming into your g-spot hard enough for you to see stars. And then hammering into you with a desperate speed, chasing his own pleasure and it’s all you can do to keep from being tossed over the edge, too far, too fast.

“Yes — yes — yes!” you’re babbling something, nails scrabbling at his arms, his chest, his back, at anything you can reach as he pummels your abused hole, bullying his cock deeper and deeper into you till you clench around him, your orgasm blazing through you even as he shows no signs of slowing down.

“It’s — you feel — so — tight —” his pace stutters, his voice breaking over your name as he hoists one of your legs over his hips, “I’m —”

You nod, reaching up to tug a strand of hair away from his sweat-slicked forehead.

“I-inside — you can — want you to fill me up —”

Zayne keens, thrusting forward one last time before you feel him pulsing inside you, the warm spill of his cum stuffing you full till you can feel the remnants leaking down the curve of your ass. You bite your lips, swallowing hard as Zayne jerks into you a few more times till he finally stills, the pair of you both panting, your bodies sticky now with too many bodily fluids to count.

You let out a breathy laugh as he hisses, casting you a reproachful look.

“Y-you’re still hard…”

He sighs, nodding, “Yes… it’s one of the… more tedious side effects of the drug.”

He makes to pull out but you stop him, tugging him into your chest and running a hand through his sweat-soaked hair.

“You need to tell your R&D department that their antidote is very ineffective.”

Zayne chuckles, rolling onto his side and pulling you with him, the pair of you now curled into each other, his arms around you, his twitching cock still pressed inside you.

“Yes, I’ll be sure to send them a memo.”

You nuzzle further into his chest but your eyes catch on the clock hanging on the opposite wall and you frown.

“It’s only been… 43 minutes?”

Zayne glances at the clock as well before turning his gaze back towards you.

“Seems so.”

You lick your lips, feeling your mouth go dry as you feel him throb once more inside you.

“How long… did you say the effects last for again?”

Zayne heaves a very serious-sounding sigh even as you adjust yourself to be sitting over his hips, his cock sheathed inside you as you plant your hands on his chest.

“The R&D department said anywhere from a few hours to…” he lets his words trail off, a devious glint flashing behind his eyes, “in the worst cases, a few days.”

You shiver as he casually settles his palms on your hips, rocking you forward and back. You let out a hitched moan as your over-sensitive clit drags along the skin of his lower abdomen and his cock jerks inside you.

“D-days?” you echo, swirling your hips around in a soft figure 8 that has him sucking in a harsh breath, his brows furrowing with pleasure.

“Y-yeah… I’m assuming your offer of help still s-stands?” he does his level best to keep his voice dry, but his breath hitches as you pull yourself up the length of his cock before slamming back down. And already, there’s that self-same hunger eclipsing the light in his eyes as he stares down at the place where a thick ring of white has formed around the base of his cock, more liquid seeping out of you with every moment you make.

“Mm — maybe I’ll need a f-few breaks but —” you whimper as he thrust up into you, his thighs clenching beneath you, “like you said w-we just n-need to ride it out, right?”

Zayne purses his lips in concentration as he roots his feet into the bed before fucking up into you once, twice, three times, bouncing you on his cock with the sheer strength of his legs and thighs.

“Right.”

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the rest of the tags will be in the reblog!

[slowdivinqs]

Golden

Summary: A Sunday afternoon on your farm with Joel.

WC: 4K

Warnings: 18+ MDNI! Soft, dorky Joel. We pretend Abby and Joel chatted it out. Joel and JJ moments. Breeding ( ? ) kink. Oral sex f! receiving. PinV. In da farm house we’re in love baby! Joel doing physical labor…yeah. Can imagine Pedro or game Joel. Reader can paint!

A/N: I just wanted to give a HUGE thank you for all the love, kind words and support on Magnetism! You all melt my heart. Thank you! I’m not so happy with the smut in this but whatever :,)

The Sade record crackles before your favorite song on the album begins drifting through the air. The birthday gift Joel gave you last year that made hot tears fall out of your eyes, just like him when you gave him a painting of Sarah and Ellie for his birthday that hangs in his woodworking space. Your birthday last year ended with 8 hours spent in the sheets, passed out by the end of it, Joel with a sore back for a week - yet claims it was worth it.

You look up at him right now, peering outside the large kitchen windows and spotting him pulling out carrots, in a tight shirt and his work jeans, arms flexing at the particularly stubborn ones. Banjo following along and sniffing inside Joel’s wicker basket filled with vegetables, his tail smacking into Joel’s side. Rosie and Posie bleating in the distance, their fuzzy woolen coats glowing in the sun, seeming to also take an interest in watching Joel work, just like you.

You hear Banjo’s excited barks before Joel closes the dog's mouth shut with his hand playfully, shaking Banjo’s head side to side lightly, riling him up. The sun starts to set behind them, past the fence surrounding your ranch, behind the tall Wyoming mountains. Orange, pink, and yellow, exploding in waves. The bees returning to their hives from the flower box in front of the kitchen windows．

You laugh when Banjo manages to knock Joel over lightly, the two tumbling onto the grass. Joel laughs too, holding the border collie back with his forearm as he tries to lick Joel’s face with all his might.

You smile to yourself as you get back to work, just as Sade starts singing about ‘his hands’ and ‘the way the mountains look’. Lost in the haze of measuring out ingredients, 2 and 3 quarter cups flour, a quarter cup of sugar. Feeling the weight of the ingredients slide into the bowl. Just as you see Joel slowly walk towards the chicken coup, Banjo waiting in the grass - knowing he’s not allowed there.

Milk and salt are next, and you drift over to the fridge to grab the milk, your long white skirt, embraced with abstract flowery patterns flows against your bare ankles as your toes feel the comforting wooden floors of your warm farm home that Joel made sure to install after you mindlessly talked about your love for warm wooden accents. Sat a 20-minute walk outside the walls of Jackson, a small distance away from Ellie’s farm, closer to the lush woods atop the hills.

As you settle back by the kitchen counter, lit up by warm - almost honey-colored rays of sunlight, you try to spot Joel amongst the chickens, but he seems to have vanished, Banjo too.

You glance around surprised for a moment, your eyes flitting from the coup to the vegetable patches, to the flower beds he planted for you, the fairy garden that he denies he took part in yet carved all of the little toadstool homes for you, and Ellie to paint, and even to Old Beardy grazing in the distance, yet Joel is nowhere to be found.

You even turn to the back door, yet there’s no sign of your man. How can a big teddy bear like him disappear in less than a minute?

You jump and let out an embarrassing squeak as a sudden flash of salt and pepper pops up right on the other side of the window pane. You clutch a hand over your chest as Joel’s face comes into view, his cheeky smile and scruffy beard. Utterly pleased with himself at his success in startling you.

You glare at him half-heartedly, trying to hide the smile that’s inching up your face.

He reaches into one of the large pockets in his jeans, and your attempt at hiding your smile fails when he pulls out a little yellow chick. He lifts it to your view, the little fluff ball wiggling and chirping, looking tiny in Joel’s large, dirty palms. His smile grows wider and tender as he sees you beam at the sight through the window.

He scratches the chick’s head with one of his fingers before walking back to reunite the yellow baby with its mama.

You laugh to yourself at his antics. At a grown, grizzly man, surprising you with a baby chicken. He’s a dork and doesn’t deny the allegations when they’re thrown his way.

Banjo runs circles around the vegetable garden just as the back door opens, closing softly with a click. Joel’s heavy footfall, accentuated by his boots, sounds behind you, getting softer as he heads to the guest bathroom. The house creaks and groans as the water turns on. You’re back to baking.

“Smells real good.”

He hums, his, now soft, footfall appearing once again as he approaches from behind you, burying his face in your neck and sniffling dramatically, you feel his wet beard and hair drip onto your neck, giving you goosies. He’s splashed his face and washed his hands, probably so he can distract you without your scolding.

“Me or the food, old man?” You ask with a smile, continuing to knead the dough.

“‘Mm, both.” He hums, rubbing his facial hair against your neck like a cat. You suspect he might start purring soon. It’s not unlike him, even though he ignores you when you tell him that he basically purrs while snuggling against your chest as you read whatever novel you two have picked aloud to him in the evenings.

“Cinnamon rolls, bread’s in the often.” You hum, tilting your head to the side so he can keep giving you his beard scratches. He starts nibbling too now. You sway your hips slightly to the music, and the way his hands fall to your hips tells you all you need to know.

“Cinnamon rolls.” He repeats amused, smiling against your skin, nibbling again to make you tut at him, grinning when you do.

“Ellie and Dina are comin’ over later.” You say as you grab the jar of cinnamon on the shelf, leaving Joel to step back and watch.

“They bringin’ JJ?” Joel asks, voice loosing his husky tiredness and instead replaced with a lighter sound.

“Yes baby, they’re bringing JJ.” You say with a soft smile, looking back at him only to find he’s disappeared once more. That man is silent as a mouse usually - a habit you suppose. Although, whenever he walks into the house, he does three stomps of his boots - just to make sure you know it’s him. He may have gone soft, but there are some things time will never strip away entirely. His knack for safety is one of them.

Just as you’re finished adding all the wet ingredients to your dry ones, you hear Joel in the living room lowering a box, a few things spilling out. An obnoxious squeak of a toy - you think it’s banjo’s plastic chicken that Joel hid away after the noise drove Joel so insane he accidentally beheaded a cowboy carving he was working on for a month. You catch Banjo’s head shoot up as if he got a sense that his long-lost soulmate is near. Joel hides the chicken away again quickly.

He’s brought out the small bundle of toys you two own - JJ’s toy box - Joel calls it, even made one of those shape sorters and toy soldiers for the little boy to play with, and asked you to paint them when he was done, as he does most of his carvings.

This is the one thing Joel doesn’t try to hide his excitement about. Whenever he sees JJ, or ‘potato’ as Ellie calls him, they might as well be the only people in the world. You think it’s the sweetest thing, makes you want to beg him to have a potato of your own, your body going into overdrive imagining how he’d look at your child while putting them to sleep, how he’d kiss their forehead softly.

Joel begins to organize the toys, placing the few dinosaurs, soldiers, and stuffed animals in a battle scene. The soldiers are apparently no match for the fluffy bear, as he’s flung them around in defeat.

Never did you think you’d see the day that Joel Miller would organize a battle scene between stuffed animals and wooden soldiers, just to see JJ’s face light up in excitement - like the little boy's face doesn’t already do that when he just sees Joel as the front door opens.

You manage to pull your eyes away and start folding your dough. Smiling to yourself at your sweet sweet man. Your stomach swoops the more you think, kneading the dough mindlessly as you’re painfully reminded how badly you want it. How badly you want him to pump you full, make you swell. You don’t even notice how your eyes have gone hazy, kneading the dough harder and harder until you jump at Joel’s big hands cupping your wrists from behind, pulling them upwards slightly to relax them. His beard tickles the fly always at the back of your neck as he kisses the soft skin there.

“What’s got my lady all worked up, hm?” He murmurs against your neck, kissing down the side and inhaling, almost like he wants to brand himself with you.

“You.” You whisper shakily, squeezing the dough slightly like an anchor. You feel his cheeky, boyish smile against your skin, only for a moment before he replaces that smirk with a nibble.

“Me?” He asked softly, planting his chin over your shoulder to watch as you ‘work’, definitely not to watch the way his calloused hands cup over your tits. The dough between your palms is the only thing keeping you stable right now.

“Yes, you.” It’s a breathy whisper, and although he doesn’t see it - Joel already knows your eyes are drooping when you tip your head back slightly, able to breathe in that perfect scent of him after he’s spent the day working in the sun. The musk that is uniquely Joel, that screams man man man.

“Don’t know what you mean, honey bee.” He hums, his mouth ghosting over your earlobe just as his thumbs circle over where your nipples are unfortunately hidden away from him. He knows exactly what you mean.

“Why don’t you head South and find out then, cowboy?” You tease, expecting a playful slap and pinch of your ass before he wanders off to the shower, but instead, you find his hands, then his whole self sliding down down down until his knees plant themselves on the floor.

“Gonna let me spoil my desert?” He hums, his hands sliding slowly up from your ankles, bringing your skirt with them, until he can see the little cotton-lace panties that are hidden underneath. He bites the soft swell of your right asscheek that the cotton doesn’t cover.

Your teeth sink into your bottom lip softly as you arch your back slightly, leaning your weight on the dough, squeezing harder as the soft caress of your thighs leaves you dripping - more so than before.

“You know I’d let you do anything.” You whisper to him, and it’s all he needs before you feel his calloused fingers on your lower back, sinking into your underwear before dragging them down, burying his head under your skirt.

He throws your panties somewhere, with a proper flick of his wrist. You can see them land somewhere in your periphery, the white lace discarded, very Joel-like in the most crude matter possible.

“Joel!-“ you begin to exclaim before his warm tongue parts your slick folds with an obscene sound. Slurping up the wetness he’s found as his calloused hands grip the front of your thighs. Squeezing tightly like it’ll let him get his tongue deeper into your pussy.

You almost want to laugh at what it must look like: his head buried under your long white skirt, like a ghost he probably dressed up as for Halloween. But fortunately for him, you can’t laugh when his mouth has sealed around the hood of your clit, when it’s hot hot hot and wet.

“Oh, Joel-” you moan in a breathless gasp, your head falling back and then forward as his tongue licks the underside of your clit, making you squeeze the poor dough for it’s life.

He groans into your pussy, tongue leaving your clit to lick side to side, sliding down your cunt until it’s breaching your drenched hole. His hands grip your ass-cheeks tightly, eating at you like it’s his last meal.

He pushes two of those thick fingers inside you, instantly curling forward so deliciously you think you might die. You lose your voice, moaning hoarsely as you clench around the intrusion. He starts moving his hand faster, paired with the suckling of his hot mouth on your clit, you’re not going to last much longer.

“Give it t’me baby- let me have it.” He whispers against you, and it’s his words that do it, as well as that final crook of his fingers that hit you right where you need him. You’re cumming with an intensity only he can give you. He slurps up all the wetness he can until you’re whining at him that it's ‘too much, too much’ and he stands. Gripping your chin between his thumb and pointer finger before kissing you deeply. Guiding his tongue into your mouth just as he had done your pussy.

“I love you.” He whispers against your lips, and your chest blooms, blinking up at him as he looks into your eyes with a calm tenderness like you’re exactly what he always dreamed of - like he lay awake at night as a little boy getting giddy at the thought that one day you might be real, and now you are, more importantly: you’re his, and he’s yours.

“I love you too.” You whisper back, kissing him once more before he’s once again lifting your hands from the dough, which now looks positively mixed from your absent-minded squeezing.

“‘M gonna go shower, baby.” He says softly, stepping back from you just as you turn to look at him.

“You’re gonna deny a woman her fun?” You ask with a raise of your eyebrow, looking down as he re-adjusts his jeans. His hands glancing at your ass before smirking at something you don’t see yet.

“You’ll get your fun later, baby.” He says with an amused smile, before he’s turning and heading upstairs. You sigh and look around the kitchen, laughing brightly as you see your panties dangling on the hook by the back door, how he flung them so far, you’ll never know.

There’s a knock at the door at 5pm sharp, and Joel bounds down the stairs before walking to the door, the creak of it sweet before the sounds of ‘hello!’ and ‘how’s it going, old man?’ ring through the house. You move away from the kitchen to great Dina and Ellie as they walk in, JJ already cooing excitedly in Joel’s arms as he hugs Dina, then Ellie from the side. Smiling widely at the little boy.

“Hey Els, Dina.” You say softly as Ellie gives you a tight squeeze, her mullet brushed neatly, most likely done by Dina. The Ellie you know would let her hair stick in every direction like the wild child she is and always will be.

“Smells good.” Ellie says softly, a hand on the small of Dina’s back before she’s walking to the kitchen to inspect what you’ve made. You see Ollie - JJ’s favorite toy elephant that Ellie won in the Jackson Fair at 19 - hanging out of her back pocket. You smile at the similarities between Joel and Ellie, clear that he raised her in subtle ways. The most obvious being her recent taking for boots, jeans and flannels. She goes over to Joel and JJ after that, crouching behind Joel who’s sat on the carpet by his battle scene, giving him a bear hug from behind.

The afternoon is spent chatting away with Dina, Ellie occasionally chiming in, yet all three of you mainly watch Joel and JJ playing on the living room rug. Your home is filled with the delighted laughter of a child. Ellie joins in soon too, taking on the role of the toy dinosaurs which makes JJ shriek with laughter as they attack Joel’s stuffed bear, then Joel himself.

Everything is warm.

You all eat together. Roasted Venison with salad and bread, cinnamon rolls later that JJ tries to devour whole while sitting on Joel’s lap - similarly to Ellie who sneaks an extra two with Joel in the kitchen when they think their respective partners aren’t looking.

They stay in the small cottage outside which Joel made sure was perfect before their arrival. JJ and Dina fast asleep as you, Ellie and Joel find place on the couch watching some cheesy action movie that Ellie picked. Just like old times when she was a young teenager. She still leans against Joel’s shoulder all the same. Both of his girls in his arms as lights flash across the screen. You glance up at his face once, and smile when seeing he looks as happy as can be.

He deserves this, he deserves to be happy. Even if he might not believe it, you do, and you’ll let hell freeze over before you stop trying to make him happy.

Ellie bids you goodnight before going to curl up in bed with Dina and JJ. Similarly to the way Joel follows up the stairs behind you as you make your way to the bathroom to get ready for bed. Smirking at the twinkle in his eye you see as you pull out his favorite night dress of yours

You’ve just finished up in the bathroom when you walk back into your shared bedroom. Joel shucking off his shirt, leaving him in his boxers. You admire his broad back in the low light of the bedroom. The shadows dusting along his muscles like rivers.

You float up behind him this time, your nose pressed to the line down his back, hands wrapped around his stomach.

“I want one.” You whisper into the quiet night, and it feels like you’re the only two people in the world. He turns to face you - you rest your chin on his chest and look up at him.

“Want what, darlin’?” He whispers softly, his thumb running over the apple of your cheek as he breaths softly. You can hear his heart beating, in sync with yours.

“A baby.” You whisper, and it’s so silent, so quiet. His eyes glimmer and brighten, his breath bated as he looks down at you.

“You want that with me, sweet girl?” He whispers, his voice suddenly hoarse and thick.

“More than anything.”

He kisses you deeply, his hand burying at the hair on the back of your head. Cupping the bowl of your skull so tenderly you can feel his love for you pulse through your veins. Your arms wrap rest on his broad shoulders.

“Me too, baby. Me too.” He whispers, and emotion wraps around your throat, as you can tell it does his when you see the shine in his sweet eyes.

You fall to the bed together, his boxers discarded as he makes quick work of your night gown. Kissing along your breasts until you’re driven so positively crazy you need him to soothe it with his mouth.

Your hand wraps around his shaft and you gaze into his eyes as they flutter slightly at the sensation of your fingers, his own meet you there, guiding him inside you until you both gasp softly at the sensation. He lets his hips push in all the way moments after. Your walls grip around him, the thick, hot - length of him, pushing its way through you until he fits into the space he’s made for himself within you. The noise of your wetness clenching around his girth as he holds himself over you on his strong forearms is nothing short of one of Joel’s favorite erotic sound.

“I love you, I love you so damn much.” He whispers, his large - paw like hand cupping your skull as he grinds his pelvis against your pulsing clit, listening to the soft shk shk shk as his cock twitches inside you, pushing up against that spot inside you that turns you stupid.

“I love you too.” You whimper, barely able to think past the way your eyes are rolling. He hasn’t even thrusted yet. You don’t catch the way he’s gazing down at you, like you’re the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen, like you own every part of his heart and soul, like you might as well be living and breathing within his ribcage : as if you’re the sole thing causing that glow he seems to have.

He starts moving, slow, deep slaps of his hips against yours. Holding you against him as you arch your back slightly, making sure he digs against that spot that drives you wild.

Your fingers dig red lines down his broad back. His head falling forward as he groans so deep and roughly you think you might die from being overly aroused. This man does things to you that you can’t even explain with words, your cries of pleasure seem to communicate it well enough though. Everything is hot and wet and sticky as he whispers into your ear.

“You’re gon’ be such a good mama- fuck darlin’ - take it, yeah-“ he groans into your ear, and your whole body shivers. You clench tighter around him, making his gasp slightly as his hand finds your clit. “Got me achin’ f’you all day baby-“ he whines - whines - into your ear, the soft skin of his balls drags against the curve of your ass, just like his tip dragging through your walls, taking you higher and higher until you can’t even hear the noises you’re making.

He rubs your clit harder, round and round on that pulsing nub until you open your eyes and see his disheveled face. Skin flushed, hair a mess, and his gaze fluttering as he moves his hips against you- his big strong body shining with sweat.

You’re done for.

You dig your heel into the soft flesh of his ass, pulling him closer and locking your legs around him, trapping him deep inside of you.

“Please cum inside me-“ you whimper, gazing into his eyes as he fights with all his might to make sure you cum first, his hand doesn’t let up on your clit, and you clench. “Please let me have it-“

His groan breaks into a soft whine as he drops onto his forearms, face right in front of yours, his nose bumping into your own. You can feel his harsh breaths against your swollen lips.

When you feel him start to fill you up on a slamming thrust, you cum with him, clenching tighter every time you feel one of his thick, sticky ropes shoot inside you while his cock twitches wildly inside you - his moans even sweeter than the sensation.

“Oh god, I love you-“ he whimpers, his moan cracking as you push him impossibly closer with your heel, his hands gripping the sheets next to your head for dear life. He kisses you messily, tiredly as you both lie there - sweaty and catching your breaths.

“I love you.” You whisper back to him, your hand running through his messy hair as you litter kisses along his damp forehead. He nuzzles into you like a big bear still inside you as he softens.

“You need somethin’?” He asks once he’s found his thoughts again, sitting up slightly before you pull him back down with an ‘oof ’.

“Just you.��� You whisper back sleepily, your eyes closing shut as you bask in the feeling and love he gives you. You feel a soft kiss to your jaw. His hand splaying over your tummy.

“You got me, baby. Always.”

A/N: Thank you so much for reading ! ♡ please lmk if you enjoyed it and reblog if you did ◡̈

[porcalinecunt]

okay . . hear me out; ak!jason who has a kink w creampies. he doesn’t know why his body literally craves it like oxygen w his bf (ftm n on birth control!), he just wants it so bad!! ૮₍ ˃̵͈᷄ . ฅ ₎ა

031 𐙚 KINKTOBER — 𝐁𝐑𝐄𝐄𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐆

🪽ᯓᡣ𐭩 poor arkham knight misses his boyfie’s cute cunt, so when his partner in crime takes over for the night, he gives you a little surprise!

⋆˚࿔ FEATURING . . 𝜗𝜚˚⋆ AK! JASON TODD X MALE! READER

° ᡣ𐭩 . ° . cw — ftm!reader. tons of breeding (duh!), mentions of impregnation, size kink, jason todd being an amazing boyfie! <3

・:。author’s note ! 「 ✉️ 」・𓂃 ࣪˖ as an apology for not doing well this kinktober, have a lil halloween gift frome yours truely! :3 ty for everyone who pitched in and to those who’s requests haven’t been fufilled for kinktober, they will be as normal smuts. thank you sm for understanding! <3

rationality wasn’t jason’s best concept to grip, especially regarding his lovely little boyfriend.

coming home battered and bruised, drenched in sweat as pieces of his armor crashed onto the ground only for you to still rush into a tight hug with him made his shell a little bit softer and his dick a little harder.

if only he had time for you, something that comes every blue moon. after all, vengeance waits for no one, not with the scars the knight bears. yet the urge never fully washed out, no matter how many times he strokes his dick silly until his hands are covered in cum. the sight of your dumb lil' eyes peering at him makes him harder then a fucking rock.

every peek at your barley covered ass, every tight embrace, every needy kiss drove jason mad. the thought of a quickie wasn't enough, he needed to stuff you full load by load. so imagine his relief when slade promised to watch over the bats for the night, allowing the knight to tear through the road all the way home while you laid unsuspectingly in bed.

the familiar banging noises startled you from falling asleep, followed by heavy footsteps with heavy static breathing. your feet barley touched the ground when the door swung open and a wild jason pushed you back onto the mattress.

"jay..? what's wrong?" you asked timidly while pressing a hand against his cheek.

you would get your answer once you felt something poking at your thigh. while being no stranger to his length and girth, the same pit in your stomach still formed. it's been a long while.

"'m sorry baby-" "don't apologize..!"

you giggled, a sound that made jason near bursting. you continued even while he unbuckled his belt, pushing his pants and boxers far enough to where his cock slapped against his stomach, revealing his neglect in it's full glory with precum already leaking down the base. you didn't even realize how spread your legs were, not until he tore your underwear clean off and pushed himself in with a groan of relief.

the warm wetness of your pussy engulfs his girth perfectly, almost like it was designed for his cock. jason, while never admitting this, always enjoys the first moments of penetration. the waves of chills, the sound your cunt makes and the breathy moan of relief you let out through your lips. fuckin’ perfect, too good to be true.

“a-ahh..hah..jason..”

you whispered, tangled with the sweetest whines that only feed the knight’s insatiable need to fuck you full with his seed. snapping his hips against yours in a frantic motion, his balls slapping against your ass as your legs are forced up until your feet faced the ceiling.

“ja!—jason! right there..oh fuck! right there..

your moans were chopped up thanks to his relentless pace, nonetheless, babbling your pretty mouth away as he already found your poor cervix. all while the vigilante remained focused on his primal goal, ignoring your pleas to slow down.

“mm no can do baby..not ‘till i’m done with ya.”

he groaned, now gripping the pillow your head rested on. the headboard banged against the wall, surely leaving a couple holes that’ll become a massive dent later. “fuckkk..atta boy, he’s like a fuckin’ vice around m’dick. don’t ya think?”

you couldn’t even reply, not with your brain becoming cock drunk mush. eyes rolled into your head as the knot in your stomach threatened to snap at any moment. you begged through broken sobs for him to let you cum. for him to fuck a baby in you. something that punches a chuckle out of the knight.

“oh..baby, i’ll give you a cute lil’ kid one day..jus’ wait a little longer, okay?”

he cooed in his typical faux sympathy voice, chuckling until he finally groaned an indication of his own orgasm. his pace growing sloppier by the second as you screwed your eyes shut.

he didn’t even say a word when he came balls deep inside you, only pressing his full body weight onto your smaller figure until you milked every last drop from his cock. after all, there’s not a chance he’d let even the tiniest bit spill out of you. your legs twitched and your stomach felt weirdly full as jason laid on top of you, out of breath.

“baby..” you whined, pouting a little. “i didn’t get to cum yet..”

jason, exhausted yet relived from his post mission boner, simple began to move his hips against yours once again.

“sorry pretty boy..lemme make it up to you right here, how about that..?”

© porcalinecunt 🪽ᯓᡣ𐭩ྀི do not steal, translate, or use my work and claim as your own.

[yowumi]

Roommate Giyu Tomioka x Reader (Smut)

warnings. masterbation, reader has an OF, they are both lowkey pervs but it’s okay, mostly just build up, MIGHT write a part 2, if this does good…

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A/N. kinda came up with this like right now and i’m writing from my ass so excuse it if it turns out absolutely buns. but let’s just trust the process for now, enjoy luv <3

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Roommate Giyu Tomioka! who started off hating the idea of a roommate, having to deal with other people in general felt hard enough, so having to live with another person wasn’t exactly on his wish list.

Roommate Giyu Tomioka! who worked long hours which benifits him in this case because by the time he got home, you were already asleep.

Roommate Giyu Tomioka! who tried his best to limit interactions between the both of you; not wanting to end up saying something rude or make things awkward by forcing a conversation. therefore, resulting in most of your interactions being by sticky notes left in the house or texts that were usually to let him know that you needed something for the house.

Roommate Giyu Tomioka! who didn’t have much experience with interacting with other people let alone woman. he wasn’t a virgin, of course he managed to get his dick wet every now and then after rough missions where he would get himself drunk enough to not think about it too much.

Roommate Giyu Tomioka! who didn’t have a high sex drive and could go months without even thinking about it, this habit wasn’t purposely, he just never really got around to it.

Roommate Giyu Tomioka! who learns from tengen what an onlyfans in after making a joking remark on how if he had lost his job, he would totally make a living off of doing that.

Roommate Giyu Tomioka! who finds no interest in finding out any more information about the website due to not feeling it’s right to look at peoples bodies like that.

Roommate Giyu Tomioka! who happens to have more days off recently and staying in the house more often, having to see and face you more often.

Roommate Giyu Tomioka! who starts to make small talk with you now that he has more time off and gets to know you better although realizing that he never got the chance to ask what you do for a living.

Roommate Giyu Tomioka! who brings this up eventually after a small conversation.

“i’ve uh been meaning to ask you, what is it that you do for a living? you seem to always be home” he says while facing the other way watching as the coffee filled his cup slowly.

“oh! well i uh actually do an online business…it helps me get by, ya know!” you say trying not to indulge in the conversation any further.

you could only imagine how mortified he would react to knowing about your only fans.

“ah i see” he says now facing towards you not realizing you had moved closer causing him to bump into you, dropping coffee all over your shirt.

“oh i’m sorry! i didnt mean to startle you!” you say as you look down at the mess on the ground, unfazed by the mess on your white shirt.

“that’s my fault, i should have been paying attention to my surroundings” he looks up to you after picking up the broken pieces of the coffee mug from the ground, now realizing how the spill on your shirt has caused your shirt to become nearly see through, as he takes a glimpse at your perky nipples peaking through, quickly turning his gaze away.

distracted by what he saw he managed to end up cutting his finger from the glass in his hand.

“oh are you okay! let me take a look at it!” you say softly grabbing his hand as you examine the cut before you do the unthinkable.

you put his finger in your mouth and licked the blood off.

Roommate Giyu Tomioka! who had never been the type to get a reaction out of, especially not a lewd one. which makes him confused why his pants suddenly feel tight when he feels your lips on his fingers.

you quickly realize what you are doing and quickly take your mouth away realizing it’s weird to do that to your roommate you barely know.

“oh my god- i’m so sorry! i don’t know what got into me, ill get you a band-aid! sorry again!” you say as you walk away to retrieve a band aid, embarrassed of your actions.

Roommate Giyu Tomioka! who goes to his room that night and takes a cold shower trying to wash away the thoughts of your lips out of his mind.

Roommate Giyu Tomioka! who now starts to notice how small your clothes are, now paying attention to the curve of your ass that can be revealed when you bend down in front of him or how your tits look like they’re about to spill out in those small tank tops you wear, noticing when you don’t wear a bra with the white ones, he can see your juicy nipple peaking out.

Roommate Giyu Tomioka! who finally returns to busy days at work becoming more tired and frustrated in not being able to see you. wondering why he even cared for doing so in the first place.

Roommate Giyu Tomioka! who comes home tired and late to the house being silent figuring you were definitely asleep by now.

it was a long day, he felt like he hasn’t relaxed in so long. he takes it upon himself to lay on his bed hoping to get much needed sleep. unfortunately for him, that didn’t seem to be happening anytime soon.

he tossed and turned until finally deciding to scroll on his phone before coming back to the conversation with tengen about only fans.

what better did he have to do right now?

after a few minutes after making an account he scrolls and sees plenty of woman revealing themselves in lingerie and nude, although none of them seemed to really catch his attention.

that was until one popped up in his suggested.

Roommate Giyu Tomioka! who’s heart stops when he sees your sweet innocent face on his screen, dressed in a short little white lingerie set that made his head spin.

without thinking he immediately subscribed, now interested in seeing more of you.

he felt his pants getting tight as he scrolled down the lewd pictures of his sweet roommate in not so sweet positions, feeling a throbbing ache in his pants.

his heart stops when he sees a message appear on his screen welcoming him and thanking him for subscribing.

kingofurwaters: how much for me to get you to myself, sweetheart?

it was out of character for him to act so lewd but he didn’t want to draw suspicion by acting how he would normally act.

you: of course handsome :p i can negotiate prices so just tell me how much your willing, can’t wait <3

he almost feels jealous at the fact that you text other men this way and treat your fans like this, but he tries to put it in the back of his head and pretend it’s only for him.

he tries to think of a good price to layout, he was new to this so he didn’t know what to expect.

kingofurwaters: 250 for 20 minutes with you? or should i aim higher for you, gorgeous?

she takes a while to type which leads giyu to believe maybe he aimed too low, he did hear that women made really good money on this app.

you: that sounds good !! could i make a request though if that’s okay with you of course baby :)

the nickname makes him feel warm but also noticeably sends blood from his brain to his cock that was starting to hurt from how hard it was.

it’s been so long since he’s been this aroused, come to think of it, he can’t even remember a time he’s been anywhere near this aroused. he almost feels as if he could cum just from seeing and talking to you from a screen.

kingofurwaters: spit it out pretty

you: can we make it 40 minutes instead? you offered a lot of money so if you can keep up with me then i would hope to give you the best expedience.

his face lightens.

kingofurwaters: of course, anything for you, is now okay?

and with that and talking him through how to do the call through zoom, he finally sees her.

shes wearing a soft pink lingerie set matched with pink and white panties with a bow in the front. he felt that as of now, it had to have been impossible to be harder than he already was.

throughout the whole session, he watched her, the way she moves, and all without her taking the set she had on, off. he didn’t show himself due to not wanting her to recognize his surroundings.

He palmed himself and came three times that night.

for the first time in giyu tomioka’s life…

he was grateful for tengen’s stupidity.

the next morning he rushed out the door trying to avoid any contact with you and heading straight out the door for work. He was never one to mind going to work but he was eager to go home. He was eager to text and look at you through his phone.

Roommate Giyu Tomioka! who comes home late once again expecting a quiet house although he’s surprised when he finds you cooking.

“oh your home, how was work tomioka?” you asked, giving him those sweet doll eyes that made his heart race.

“was fine, why are you up?” he asks

“couldn’t sleep and then i got hungry, would you like some?”

he looks down to see the fried rice that looked tempting but he pushes the yummy smell out of his thoughts.

“no thank you, enjoy though” he says before waving you off and brushing himself past you, giving you a small rub on your head in affection as he excuses himself to his room.

he looks on his phone to go straight to your page although he seems surprised as your title of your latest video uploaded an hour ago.

finding your cute roommate touching herself on your bed

his heart stopped noticing his bedroom in the thumbnail. she couldn’t possibly know, right?

fuck.

has she done this before?

he scrolls down on her videos and finding that some of her past videos were also in his room at some point. he also started to realize many videos were captioned with “roommate”. perhaps she had a little kink?

not that he minded. his hard dick straining against his sweatpants sure as hell didn’t mind one bit.

he clicked the video listening to your sweet pants and moans were blasted through his earphones.

he palmed his dick through his sweatpants trying his best not to mutter your name like he did when you were asleep.

he keeps at this motion, teasing his dick through his pants feeling overwhelmed with the image of you fucking yourself on his bed.

he is so close when he hears it.

he hears it, slightly audible.

“g-giyu…”

he almost felt as if he was hearing things, rewinding it over and over again to make sure he wasn’t just hearing things.

but no, he heard right.

precum began leaking through his swollen tip as he pulls his hard cock out of his pants desperately stroking down his long shaft. that was all he needed to hear.

“f-fuck” he groans out hoping you didn’t hear him as cum seeps through his fingers.

kingofurwaters: need you now. is it okay if we meet up? i’ll pay however much money, just need you now baby

he sends her 3k up front, how could she deny?

she agreed and sent him her address, or perhaps their address.

you: my roommate works hard though so we need to be quiet, don’t want to wake him up :(

always so considerate for him.

he couldn’t take it anymore, with shirt off and now only in his sweatpants he made his way to your bedroom before stopping at the door.

what was he thinking? he couldn’t just go in there and fuck the life out of her. he also couldn’t admit that he was watching her but at the same time, it wasn’t as if she was anymore innocent.

giyu takes too long thinking before he finds you opening the door startled and cheeks flushed as your eyes roamed his toned body.

you knew giyu was in shape but lord was he fine.

“oh uh giyu what are you doing here..?” she said nervously, trying her best not to make eye contact with the noticeable bulge poking through his sweatpants.

“i uh uh” shit.

he tries to think of a good explanation, what the hell could save him from this right now.

“oh hold on just one moment giyu, i just need to text someone real quick!” you say almost worried which sent him clueless, who the hell-

ding.

fuck.

that was his phone. you send him a look and look over at his phone to see your message notification.

your eyes go wide.

but not as wide as his.

notification: you: is it okay if we reschedule baby?

he looks up at you and your looking down and you look ashamed before tears roll down your face.

“i’m so sorry, i knew i shouldn’t have posted those videos or even have been doing those things in your room, i’m so sorry giyu, i understand if you want to kick me out or confront me…” you say in sobs.

he laughs.

why was he laughing? did he find this amusing? or maybe he was happy that he caught you.

“i’m sorry-“ you were cut off by him leaving a kiss on your lips. a kiss? did he just give you a peck?

“that isn’t why i’m here, sweetheart.” he says as he watches your expressions change in a confused manner, he leans in to kiss your forehead and comforting you, whiping away the tears.

you realize and you look up at him as if he was an angel sent down to earth.

Roommate Giyu Tomioka! who made love to you until morning, no longer feeling shy around his sweet neighbor.

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A/N. i have no knowledge on OF or how much they make so excuse me if this isn’t very accurate but most people i see online who have an OF are always balling so i assume they are making bank LMAO, i was originally planning on writing smut at the end but if i’m being honest…i’m not very good at writing actual smut but i enjoy writing the build ups because TENSION >>> anyways i hope you guys enjoyed

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[latenightreadingpdf]

Hidden in Plain Sight (2) - Dave Lizewski

₊‧⁺˖⋆ Masterlist ⋆˖⁺‧₊ ☽◯☾ ₊‧⁺˖⋆ Part 1 ⋆˖⁺‧₊

Summary: When Y/S/N saves Kick-Ass from a dangerous situation, he becomes obsessed with trying to uncover her true identity. Little does he know, Y/S/N is a girl from his school who secretly has a crush on him as well. As they patrol together, their worlds collide in ways neither expected, leading to a surprising revelation about who's really behind the mask.

Y/S/N - Your superhero name

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Monday couldn’t have come fast enough. Dave was jittery with excitement and nerves as he met up with Todd and Marty outside school. Clutching his hastily scribbled list of suspects, he gave the rundown.

"Alright, guys, these are the girls who could be her. We’ll watch them, check out their voices, see if anything clicks. If one looks even a little familiar from the other night, I’ll try to talk to her after class."

Todd smirked, looking over the list. "You’re gonna stare down all these girls and hope one of them gives you a hint?”

"Exactly," Dave nodded, grinning. "This’ll work. It has to.”

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

In first period, Dave’s mission began. The first girl on the list, Emily Sanders, sat two rows ahead of him. He stared at her intently, trying to imagine her face under Y/S/N’s mask. She had dark hair, like Y/S/N, but she looked over her shoulder at him with a disgusted expression and promptly switched seats.

Strike one.

In the next class, he focused on Lisa Connelly, suspect number two. Every time she moved or talked, Dave leaned a little closer, hoping to catch some flash of familiarity. Eventually, Lisa’s friend whispered something to her, and she gave Dave a strange look before moving to a different part of the room.

Strike two.

The third girl, Brianna Torres, noticed his staring almost immediately. After class, he mustered up the courage to talk to her, but she barely let him get a word in before brushing past him, muttering, “Creep.”

At the end of the day, Dave regrouped with Todd and Marty as they walked home, pulling out his list with a sigh. “I crossed three off today,” he said, folding the list back up.

Todd nodded. “Marty and I managed to cross one off too. I guess she’s not Susie. That leaves… what, three?”

Dave nodded, relieved. "Right. We’ll hit those three tomorrow. We’re close, I can feel it.”

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

That night, he suited up in his Kick-Ass costume, the mask and jumpsuit a comfort now as he headed out on patrol. The list was still gnawing at the back of his mind, though, as he roamed the city streets, keeping an eye out for any sign of trouble—or maybe even a glimpse of Y/S/N.

And just like clockwork, her voice called out from behind him.

“Hey, Kick-Ass.”

He whirled around, trying not to look as startled as he felt, hands suddenly sweaty under his gloves. “H—hey,” he managed, aiming for casual but landing somewhere between awkward and shaky.

She walked up beside him, giving him a friendly nod as they began to patrol together in easy silence.

After a bit of small talk about superhero stuff, he started throwing out questions, subtle but probing, hoping they’d reveal something about her identity. But she sidestepped each one with a smooth answer, too clever to let anything slip.

Eventually, a small lull fell over the conversation. Dave’s mind raced, wanting to ask something—anything—that would get him closer to figuring out who she was. Then, before he could stop himself, he blurted out, “So, uh… how’s it going with that Dave guy from your school?”

She let out a soft laugh behind her mask. “Oh, that? You don’t want to hear about my dumb crush.”

“No!” he said, maybe a bit too loudly, his voice cracking as he stumbled to recover. “I mean, I want to help. You know… give some advice, or whatever.”

She glanced at him, the amusement clear in her eyes even with her mask on. “Alright. I mean, I’d love some advice, but… I don’t think he likes me back anyway.”

“What? No way! You’re—you’re amazing! Like, I don’t think anyone wouldn’t like you,” he said, the words tumbling out before he could think.

“Thanks,” she replied softly. Then her voice took on a more teasing tone, as if she knew something he didn’t. “But it doesn’t help that he’s been staring at a bunch of other girls in class. It’s like he doesn’t even notice me.”

Dave swallowed, the heat rising to his cheeks. “Oh… uh… really?”

“Mhm,” she said, and there was a smile in her tone. “I sit near him in calculus. Not that I pay much attention—I’m usually too busy looking at him to focus on anything else.”

His mind spun as he absorbed her words. Calculus… that narrowed it down a lot. And then it hit him. Y/N. She sat right near him in calculus. His heart nearly skipped a beat.

Holy crap, it’s Y/N! How did I not figure this out sooner?

As the realization sank in, his nerves took over. He didn’t know what came over him, but he started stumbling over his words, trying to come up with a quick excuse. “Uh—um, yeah, s-sorry I’ve got to go… um… feed my cat! Yeah, feed my cat. She’s probably hungry. But uh… you should talk to Dave! To see if he likes you back.”

Before she could respond, he took off running, practically tripping over his feet in his rush to get away. “I’ll, uh, see you around!”

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

When he got home, Dave immediately grabbed his phone, texting Todd and Marty.

Dave: Guys… I figured out who Y/S/N is.

Todd: Seriously? Who?

Dave: Y/N. You know, the Y/N from our calc class.

Marty: No way. Isn’t she, like, super hot?

Todd: Dude, how the hell did you manage to get someone like her into you? That’s insane.

Dave rolled his eyes, but he couldn’t hide the goofy grin on his face. After shutting off his phone, he lay in bed, his mind spinning. He’d done it. He’d actually figured out who Y/S/N was. And more than that… she liked him, even when he was just awkward, nerdy Dave.

He closed his eyes, trying to calm down, but sleep wouldn’t come. All he could think about was Y/N—her laugh, her teasing, and, most of all, the fact that she was hiding right under his nose all along.

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

The next morning, Dave woke up with a renewed sense of purpose—and anxiety. Today, he was going to talk to Y/N. For once, he put a bit more effort into his appearance, doing his hair carefully and choosing an outfit that looked cooler than his usual. He even checked himself in the mirror before leaving, feeling oddly confident.

As soon as he got to school, he found Todd and Marty, who were waiting to discuss the plan.

“So, how are you gonna talk to her?” Todd asked, nudging him.

“Yeah, like, you actually need to have a game plan,” Marty added.

Before he could answer, Todd’s eyes widened, and he slapped Dave’s shoulder. “Dude, there she is! At her locker. Right now.”

Dave’s stomach did a nervous flip as he looked over to see Y/N grabbing her books from her locker. She looked effortlessly perfect, and he suddenly felt like he had no idea what he was doing.

“Holy shit, what do I even say?” he muttered, feeling himself start to freak out.

“Just go talk to her!” Todd whisper-shouted, nudging him forward.

But as they all panicked in silence, Y/N shut her locker and walked away toward her class. The three of them deflated, watching her go.

“Damn it!” Dave sighed, running a hand over his face.

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

By the time calculus class rolled around, Dave was still on edge. When he walked in, he saw Y/N already seated and scrolling through her phone. He’d been planning all morning to talk to her before class, but now that she was right there, the nerves came rushing back. He chickened out and went straight to his seat, cursing himself internally.

But damn, she looked good.

Throughout the class, he found himself glancing her way, completely forgetting where he was. It was like she was the only person in the room, and every time she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear or shifted in her seat, he’d find himself staring all over again.

When the bell rang, Dave started gathering his stuff, still kicking himself for not making a move. Then, out of the corner of his eye, he saw someone approaching him. He looked up, and his heart nearly stopped.

It was her.

“Hey, Dave,” Y/N said with a sweet smile, her voice soft.

“H-hey, Y/N. What’s up?” he replied, hoping he sounded calm.

She looked a little shy, almost as if she were working up the courage to ask him something. “Um, I’m not doing too well in this class, and the teacher mentioned you’re, like, the best in here. I was hoping you could maybe… tutor me?”

His mind raced. Ohmygodohmygodohmygod. He managed to nod, practically shouting, “Uh, y-yeah, of course!”

Y/N giggled, reaching into her bag and pulling out a small piece of paper. “Perfect! Here’s my number. Just text me when you’re free to help.”

She flashed him another smile, thanking him one more time before turning to walk away, a subtle smirk playing at her lips. Dave stared after her, feeling like he’d just ascended to another dimension. He could still smell a hint of her perfume lingering in the air around him, and he was left completely dazed.

Oh god, he thought, staring down at the paper in his hand. I’m so screwed.

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

At lunch, Dave clutched the small piece of paper with Y/N’s number in his hand like it was a lifeline. He spotted Todd and Marty at their usual table and dropped into his seat, quieter than usual.

Todd noticed immediately, squinting at him. “Dude, what’s with you? You look… weird.”

Dave took a deep breath and held up the paper. “I got Y/N’s number.”

Both Todd and Marty’s eyes went wide, and they immediately broke out into grins.

“Are you serious?!” Todd said, practically jumping up from his seat.

“It’s not like that!” Dave blurted, trying to stay calm. “She just wants me to tutor her in calc. She thinks I’m good at it or something.”

“Still, that’s her number, man!” Marty elbowed him. “So, what’s your plan? Are you going to flirt with her? Sit super close? Or maybe pull the classic ‘oh no, I forgot my textbook’ move?”

Dave groaned. “I don’t know what I’m gonna do. I’ll probably just wing it.”

Marty rolled his eyes. “Yeah, ‘cause that always works out so well for you.”

“Come on, man!” Dave gave him a slap on the arm. “I’m not that bad at talking to her.”

The boys kept laughing, teasing him over possible things he could say, until eventually they switched to discussing a new comic that had just come out. But while Todd and Marty debated storylines, Dave couldn’t concentrate. His mind was on Y/N—and what he was actually supposed to text her.

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

As soon as Dave got home from school, he went straight to his room, staring down at his phone, crafting the perfect text. His thumbs hovered over the screen before he finally typed:

"Hello, it’s Dave Lizewski from calculus class. Can’t wait to start tutoring you! Are you available after school tomorrow?"

He cringed, instantly deleting it. No, way too eager.

He tried again.

"Hey Y/N, it’s Dave from calc. Did you want to meet up tomorrow after school for tutoring?"

This time, it seemed more casual. He read it over about twenty times, taking a deep breath before finally hitting send. To his surprise, Y/N’s reply came back almost immediately.

Y/N: Hey Dave :) After school works for me. I’ll meet you in the library?

Dave grinned, typing back, “Yeah, sounds good.”

He set his phone down, feeling a mix of excitement and nerves. He couldn’t believe it was happening; he was actually going to meet up with Y/N outside of class. But just as he started to relax, he remembered something else—Kick-Ass was due out on the streets tonight, too. And he’d almost definitely run into Y/S/N. Or, well, Y/N.

He let out a frustrated sigh, grabbing his suit and getting ready. How am I supposed to keep this whole thing a secret while tutoring her and fighting crime with her alter ego?

Little did he know, Y/N had already figured it out.

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

A/N ~ I got a little carried away while writing so now there’s going to be a part 3

[slushfaerie]

as someone who loves halloween.. ur post abt patrick being a scare actor ignited something in me!!

imagine him in some shitty zombie makeup and blood smeared across his cheek, doing half-assed jumps at people to get them startled. but then when he sees you and your girlish little friend group, you immediately catch his eye.

so after his shift when he sees you lingering by the exit he can’t help but approach you.. and maybe get some of that fake blood all over your mouth when you guys inevitably make out!!!! 🎃🧡🖤💜💦

you’re talked into going through this maze with your girls. ‘don’t worry! they're not allowed to touch you.'

you put in a decent effort trying to school your facial expressions so you don't get targeted by people whose job it was to try and scare the shit out of you. your friends, on the other hand, were playing up their reactions, clinging tight to each other in pairs as they ran screaming on to the next room, chased by a theater kid with a chainsaw. 

the smell of gasoline fills the now empty room. you feel yourself exhale a bit as you keep walking. the big scare had already happened, right?

there's something about this room, though. it was relatively simply decorated - a hanging light bulb illuminates an empty table in the center with a single chair. was like it was preying on your anticipation - an inkling that something wasn’t quite right. it was hard to tell where the darkness ended and the walkway out began. 

you try to walk towards what you think is the way out, heart plummeting as an amused chuckle cuts through the heady silence.

“trying to act all tough, huh?” you can practically hear the smirk in his voice.

“should be more careful. never know what could happen to a pretty thing like you, all alone.”

you walk faster. 

the voice seems to travel through inky shadows of the room. he tuts as you ignore him, suddenly whispering in your ear.

“oh..now that's not very nice."

they're not allowed to touch you. but you sense a towering presence beside you, the heat of his breath on your skin stopping you in your tracks.

there’s an unmistakable click, no trick of the light as your eyes adjust to spot something metallic glimmering in the low light of the room. hovering just above your neck.

"leaving so soon, sweetheart? don't you wanna play?"

breathing hard, you force yourself to turn the corner, heart slamming in your ears as you finally catch up with your friends. 

—

the rest of the night, it’s like you can’t help looking behind you constantly, as if hoping to catch a glimpse of something- someone. you force yourself to be a good sport and part of the group as your friends drag you to maze after maze, but you’re only thinking about that voice. 

lingering by one of the exits, you’re torn out of your thoughts by a smug, “hey.” 

“hope i didn’t scare you too much earlier.” he says as he lights a cigarette. the smoke as he exhales mingles with the fog in the crisp night air, pierced by colorful led lights before cascading over 'no smoking' sign he chooses to ignore at the end of his shift.

says his name is patrick with a smirk that's seemingly plastered to his face. a pretty pretty face currently caked with goofy fucking zombie makeup, fake blood smeared carelessly across his cheek. 

he buys you a $15 funnel cake he can’t afford and fucks you in the back of his crv before asking if he can crash at your place. 

🎃🎃🎃

the way i would fold for shitty scare actor patrick in an instant. good thing he has a nice voice and reader couldn’t see his shitty zombie makeup when he was trying to scare them. + him getting fake blood on me when we make out is actually something i didn't realize i needed bless ur beautiful brain ;;

[sunsets-and-crows]

I Wanna Be Yours - Chapter 2

Pairing: Sylus X Reader

Words: 5.1K

- - -

Tasked with infiltrating the life of Sylus, the most wanted man in the N109 zone, you're torn between what is right and feels right, blurring the line between duty and desire. As danger escalates, you must decide whether to carry out your mission or succumb to the magnetic pull of the man you're meant to destroy. In this game of power and obsession, betrayal could cost you everything.

Content warnings ⚠️

Dark Themes, Yandere! Reader and Yandere! Sylus! Power play. Violence and Gore. Smut (in later chapters). Stalking/surveillance. Reader slowly losing her mind maybe. Sylus being hot and a menace. TRIGGER WARNING: Murder and panic attacks

If you feel there’s any other warnings I need to add then please reach out and let me know!

The heavy scent of books filled the air of Sylus' office, an old, refined space that exuded power and wealth. Mahogany-panelled walls, meticulous order, and rich tones filled the space. His sleek black laptop rested on the desk in front of him, and beside that lay a red crow pin, a subtle symbol of his identity, one that carried weight even in silence.

Leaning back in his leather chair, Sylus’ fingers languidly traced the sharp edges of the crow pin, his gaze fixed on Mephisto’s silent feed as it scrolled across his screen. His sharp red eyes gleamed with interest as he tracked your movements through the apartment, his gaze predatory, lingering on each unguarded moment like a wolf observing its prey. 

A flicker of amusement curled his lips as you crossed your legs, oblivious to the eyes tracking every subtle motion. You were comfortable, vulnerable, with no idea how deeply under his gaze you were. He chuckled to himself. You thumbed through a file of some kind, crossed and uncrossed your legs as you tried to get comfortable at your very own computer desk. 

Your positions were almost a mirror of each other. Him sat, watching you and you sat watching him. It amused him. 

The soft glow of your screen reflected on your face in the dimly lit room as you sat alone, relaxed. There was tension in your posture, a concentration that drew him in. You picked up a picture and looked intently at it. It wasn’t just professional curiosity in the way your fingers traced his image on the screen - no, there was something more intimate in the slow drag of your touch over the sharp angles of his jawline. The picture of him held your gaze, your attention lingering on every detail as though in reverence.

His head tilted slightly, intrigued.  So, you were studying him perhaps a little too closely. It made a small smirk cross his lips, watching you pour over the details, oblivious to the fact that your entire private life was laid bare before him. You didn’t even realise how telling your movements were, the unconscious bite of your lip, the slight rise and fall of your breasts as your breathing quickened, betraying every emotion you were feeling. There was something else happening here, something more personal. Intimate.

His lips curled at the corners, the beginnings of a smile tugging at his face. "Pretty, little hunter," he murmured under his breath, the words rolling off his tongue like a taunt. He leaned back in his chair, the leather creaking beneath him, as his red eyes glinted in the half-light. He enjoyed watching you, studying the way you tried to contain the fascination you felt. Gone was the look of fear he’d seen after you’d darted from the warehouse. 

He watched the way your fingers brushed over his features on the screen, as if trying to touch him, feel him through the glass. The thought stirred something dark in him. His hands, resting on the arms of the chair, flexed slightly, imagining how easily he could step into your life. He wondered how you'd react if he showed up right there, startling you from the shadows of your own space, taking pleasure in your surprise. He groaned quietly at the thought of how your eyes would widen, the way fear would tighten your throat when you realised how close he was. But there was something else too. The thought of you resting your hands on him in person, no longer bound to only the pixelated image, would you be so bold?

Or perhaps, what if he simply stood there, unseen, just a few steps away - no screen separating you. How would it feel to watch you, to see every inch of you laid bare without the safety of distance?

As tempting as the thought was, it wasn’t time for that. You were far too observant, too clever. There was a risk you’d sense him, and Sylus couldn’t afford that - not yet. He wasn’t interested in cutting this game short. No, he wanted to draw it out, to see how far you’d go before you realised the truth. For now, he was content to let you believe you were still on the hunt.

His fingers traced the cool metal of the crow pin, feeling its familiar weight in his palm. The metalwork catching in the dim light as he turned it slowly, lost in thought. Mephisto gave a quiet chirp, shifting slightly on his perch by the window, his eyes still fixed on you. Sylus’ smile widened as he watched your body tense momentarily, a subtle flinch that betrayed how long you had been staring. Your fingers hovered over the image of him on the screen, and then pulled away sharply. Maybe in a reflex of guilt, as if you feared someone might see the way you traced his features or how your breath hitched whenever your gaze lingered on his lips. You had no idea, of course, that your paranoia was fully warranted. That you were caught under his watchful gaze - so much that even the pretty blush on your cheeks felt like it belonged to him.

He’d easily uncovered your hunter status - your public file far too exposed for the calibre of mission you were on. He’d almost laughed at how carelessly the Hunter’s Association had left your details unprotected. For someone tasked with tracking him, they should have known better. He’d hoped, maybe, for something more original than the current plan of gaining his trust. But then again, you didn’t quite fit the mold of a typical hunter. You were supposed to be tracking him, bringing him in, and yet your fascination told him otherwise. It was like a puzzle he couldn’t quite understand, yet.

His fingers drummed against the polished wood of his desk, his thoughts turning over your background, your training, the sharp edges of your professional habits. You were skilled, that was clear, but your inexperience was concerning. You had no first-hand understanding of the N109 zone or him. It left you vulnerable, as evidenced in how easily he had spotted you and he could already sense the tiny fractures forming beneath your carefully crafted facade. He knew exactly how to press against them.

There was something delicious about watching you work, unaware that your mission was already ruined. The fact that you were so focused on him, so intent on uncovering his secrets, only made the game more appealing. He knew exactly what you were sent to do, and he wasn’t going to stop you. Not yet. The game had only just begun, and he intended to savour it.

“Let her play,” he murmured, voice low. He wasn’t just going to let this mission continue, but he was going to enjoy watching you try.

It had been months since that night in the warehouse - since you had first witnessed the raw, unfiltered power of Sylus. It should have been a stark reminder of what he was: a criminal, a killer. Yet, the memory faded all too easily, softening with time, until his brutality became less a warning and more a thrill.

It was only a week after the incident that the violence in your memory softened, and you found yourself bending the truth, shifting the narrative to suit the story you wanted to believe. They’d attacked first, you told yourself. He had to defend himself. His strength, his ruthlessness - it wasn’t cruelty; it was survival. Qualities like that, you couldn’t help but admire.

It started slowly, almost innocently. Just another mission. Just another criminal profile to assemble. As you spent longer watching him, gathering scraps of his life - piecing together his motives, his alliances - he became the focal point, his face central among the scattered photos and notes. Each note, each image, an invitation to look closer, to understand him rather than the mission. 

After weeks and weeks of surveillance and detailed logs of his movements you had his routine down to a t. Your official reports were detailed enough to give Captain Jenna a record of your work but you’d conveniently left out some of the more heinous observations, like the warehouse incident and a few others too.

The pin board in your apartment, however, became a mess of pictures, notes and reminders that toed the line of usefulness. Reminders about Sylus’ hands, height and the way his arms might feel wrapped around you. Your eyes lingered on each puzzle piece longer than they should have. He was becoming more than just your target; he was becoming the centre of all your focus.

You stood back, the pinboard in your living room forming a map of his world, a world you wanted desperately to inhabit. You could feel yourself inching closer, slipping further into his orbit, trying to see the world through his eyes, to understand it the way he did - and, somehow, to find your own place within it. A part of you tried to ignore the growing excitement, the thrill of unravelling his secrets, but another part craved it. You wanted to understand everything about him - his movements, his motives, his thoughts. You wanted to know what drove him, what made him tick and what turned him on.

Obsession, as you well know, erodes reason, twisting every desire until it’s all-consuming. The ache to know him - to know the forbidden, deadly parts of him - gnawed at you, turning every rational thought into a dark fascination. How many times had you stared at the pinboard, at Sylus’s face, and felt a gnawing ache to know more, to touch what you were forbidden to touch? But the lines blurred so easily, reason lost in the pulse of something dark and magnetic.

And so, you watched him. Even in the confines of your apartment, you played and replayed the footage you’d collected, meticulously tore over photographs and logs trying to understand him. You told yourself it was all for the mission, that knowing him better would lead to his capture. Each time you whispered the words, they sounded emptier, dissolving in the feverish pull to just watch him. Deep down, you knew the truth. It wasn’t duty that kept you coming back - it was desire. 

You sat in your surveillance van, parked directly outside his sprawling estate in the N109 zone. You had eyes on some kind of business meeting, a typical occurrence for him. You took out your logs for the day and updated them with some hastily scrawled information about the meeting. 

22:47 pm Onychinus Estate East Wing: Office  Meeting with Bryce Shaw BS (53 y/o deputy leader of allied group in N109 zone) Details: BS unaccompanied. Discussed the selling of protocores. Auction organised for 1 month's time -  further details needed.

That was all you managed to learn in the time you'd been observing them. Now it was 1:13 am and you could feel the toll on your body. Times like these were when your mind wondered the most, and recently that had been happening a lot. You wondered how you could start to gain his trust. What would your alias be like when you eventually went undercover? How could you relate to him and understand him? How would it feel to finally have him how you wanted him? No.

A man like him wasn't supposed to be something you could understand, let alone want. Here you were, though, longing for something more, powerless against the way your heart raced whenever his image filled your screen. You’d become distracted again. Not even noticing that Bryce Shaw had left the premises. 

Your pulse quickened as you fixed your eyes back on him. His eyes were focused on the paperwork in his hand, thumbing through the documents with purpose and ease. Your breath hitched, your senses dulled to everything else. He licked his thumb and turned a page. Seeing him unravelled you, and each glance left you wanting more. It was intoxicating, and worse, you didn’t want to stop. You saved the footage to your personal USB drive. 

It was maddening how he got under your skin, how the mere sight of him sparked a physical ache in you and left your panties damp. The heat he ignited unsettled you, a truth you kept pushing down, hoping one day it would fade. But each day it grew, impossible to unpack, impossible to ignore.

Feeling this way about a man whose hands were stained blood wasn't right - but you couldn't help it. And his hands - God, his hands. The thought of them made all sense leave your brain. The way his fingers flexed and coiled, each motion imbued with a terrifying and magnetic threat. You could imagine those hands pinning you down, tracing your skin or gripping tight enough to bruise, and the thought alone sent your pulse skittering, each beat a betrayal.

The lines of his body, the angular cut of his jaw, the deep, resonant timbre of his voice - all of it echoed through you. His words felt tailored for you, dripped with a honeyed danger that curled a shiver down your spine. You could almost imagine him whispering in your ear, the rough edge of it sparking a heat low in your belly.

Just like tonight, there were occasions where the sight of him alone had made your thighs clench involuntarily, your body betraying you as it desperately pleaded for some relief. You tried to draw a line between reason and desire, but it was futile. He commanded your thoughts, his presence coiling around your will, tightening with every glance, every word, every slow, deliberate move. The deeper you feel, the more his shadow swallowed you whole.

It was a cold night, and you were perched in the shadows of an upscale, dimly lit restaurant. You watched Sylus as he sat across from Albert Clements, a young upstart eager to make a name for himself. 

20:21 pm La Provence - Restaurant Meeting with Abert Clements AC (24 y/o Son of a rival group of Onychinus) Details: meeting organised late last night by AC for reasons unknown. AC accompanied by 4 other men.

You’d looked up Albert Clement’s file in the Hunter’s Association prior to the meeting. He was the second son of a group which had not been fond of Sylus in the past. Honestly, you were unsure as to why the whole meeting was happening.

The setting was deceptively normal - soft candlelight flickering between them, wine glasses catching the light. Sylus looked like a dark god, his imposing frame seeming out of place amidst the soft candlelight and white linens. The black leather jacket draped across his broad shoulders, accentuating the sharp lines of his body, made him a stark contrast to the over the top elegance around him - like a predator amid the gaudiness of the restaurant. Every inch of him screamed power, and yet, seeing him in such an intimate, seemingly casual moment stirred something deeper inside you. 

Your mind raced with thoughts of what it would be like to sit across from him - not as a hunter on a mission, but as the woman who held his attention. The sharpness in his gaze would soften, his hands would reach for yours over the table. The thought of claiming a space that wasn’t meant for you was wrong, and yet, in your mind, it was irresistible. You could almost feel it - the possessive weight of his hand resting at the small of your back, guiding you as if you belonged to him. His hands would wander up the softness of your thighs, teasing you, a knowing smirk on his face.

The mere thought sent heat spiralling through your core, and you shifted uncomfortably in the shadows, trying to focus on the task at hand. Your heart raced, your breath hitching as you stared, almost feeling guilty for the thoughts invading your mind. The mission. You forced the word back into focus, but it was a fleeting thought. The lines had blurred so much that you couldn’t be sure what the mission was anymore - bringing him in, or letting him draw you closer.

Sylus glanced around the restaurant, his red eyes scanning the area with sharp precision. When his gaze flicked toward your hiding place, your heart stuttered in your chest. He couldn’t possibly see you. And yet, the way his eyes lingered for just a moment too long made you wonder if he knew you were there, watching him.

What you couldn’t see was the faint curve of Sylus’ lips as his gaze swept the room and settled - slowly, deliberately - on your shadowed hiding place. He had sensed you before his eyes found you, like a predator always aware of its prey. He could see you very clearly. Dressed in that little red dress, your gun hidden in a girlish purse, you stood out to him, like a drop of blood on snow. He liked what he saw. But more than that, he liked that you were here, watching. A silent shadow, following him. His shadow. 'My little hunter,' he mused to himself, fingers tracing the rim of his glass. She’s playing the game so well. A thrilling thought entered his mind. Had you dressed so prettily just for him? 

Clements droned on about his plans, his overzealous words barely breaking through the haze of Sylus's thoughts. He already knew what the young man wanted. His ambition reeked of desperation. Sylus was barely listening, his mind elsewhere - on you, watching, hiding in the shadows, just out of his reach. What were you doing here, hiding like a fragile bird, yet armed with that gun in your purse? The dichotomy intrigued him - how you were both predator and prey. You were sent to capture him, and yet you were the one caught in his gaze.

You returned your attention to Clements and the conversation, the young man speaking quickly, confidently. You could tell from his tone that he was trying to gain Sylus’ approval. He had ambition, but ambition was dangerous in the N109 zone, especially when it was directed towards the wrong kind of power.

“We’ll see if you’re worthy,” Sylus said smoothly, standing from his seat. His figure towered over Clements, his posture exuding confidence and control. “Join Onychinus? Maybe. But you'll need to prove yourself first. I’ll be in touch.”

The meeting ended, and seemingly all members were happy with the outcome. Something gnawed at your senses, though. There was a wrongness in the air, a tightening between the exchanged glances of Clements's men. The way they moved - too quiet and too careful - sent you a cold shiver of warning. As Sylus turned to leave, you caught a quick, almost imperceptible exchange - a folded note slipped into the hand of one of Sylus's men. 

Your instincts flared, a cold warning that something wasn’t right. The way the man nodded at Clements, the tension in the air - it was all too much. Your pulse raced as you followed them outside and into the night, unable to quell the sinking feeling in your gut.

Sylus' confident strides betrayed his ignorance of the traitor creeping up behind him. His footsteps were steady, unhurried, as if he had no concern in the world. 

Then you saw it—a flicker of metal in the dim streetlight, the subtle shift of Sylus’ man as his hand slid something from his jacket pocket. The gleam of a knife caught your eye, your pulse spiking as realisation hit. The man was aiming for Sylus. You couldn’t let it happen.

You could feel the adrenaline rush through your veins. The man’s steps quickened, closing the distance between him and Sylus, and you knew - he was going to kill him. There wasn’t time to think, only to act.

Your heart slammed against your ribs, time slowing in the adrenaline rush. Your hunter instincts took over. In a single motion, you drew your weapon, your pulse roaring in your ears, knowing that this choice would change everything. You fired. The sound muffled by the surrounding night and your silencer. The man collapsed to the ground, his knife clattering at his side. Sylus turned sharply, his eyes narrowing as they scanned the dark, searching for the source of the shot.

Your breath came fast and shallow, nerves on fire as you stepped back into the shelter of the alley. The gun was still warm in your hand, your heart still racing. You weren’t supposed to intervene, but the thought of someone betraying him, of someone harming him, had ignited something within you that you couldn’t control. 

Sylus crouched down, inspecting the fallen man’s body, his fingers brushing over the note clutched in the traitor’s hand. Slowly unfolding it, his eyes flicked over the hastily scribbled words: “Do it now, and you'll be rewarded when I take over Onychinus.” The note told him everything he needed to know - Albert Clements had intended to use the man to kill him, and he was planning to stage a takeover of his empire. He scoffed. He would deal with Mr Clements later. Clearly he knew nothing if he thought that a knife would deal a fatal blow against Sylus. 

Intrigue wrapped itself around Sylus' mind like a mist, his thoughts racing. Not thoughts of his men betraying him or of the revenge he would inevitably inflict on Clements, thoughts of you. 

Why had you saved him? Your job was to capture him, and yet you had just killed one of his own in a reckless decision to protect him. He couldn’t help but smirk as he stood, his gaze lingering on the spot where he knew you had been hiding. You had no idea that his gaze had already found you - that from the moment you stepped from the shadows, Sylus knew. His pretty little hunter, gun in hand, was now protecting him in the dark. He relished it - the power you’d just handed him. His dark angel.

As he walked away, amusement flickered beneath his curiosity. You had proven more unpredictable than he’d expected. His hunter, who was supposed to capture him, had just killed for him. And now, you were something else entirely - something worth watching more closely.

The moment you stepped inside your apartment, everything shattered.

The air was thick, suffocating. Every breath dragged painfully in your chest, as if your rib cage was pressing down on your lungs. You slammed the door behind you, but the noise barely registered above the roaring in your ears. Your back hit the wall, fingers clawing at the edges of the console table, desperate for something solid, something to keep you from spiralling. But the wood was cold and useless beneath your hands - nothing could hold you now.

The adrenaline that had pushed you through it - the shot, the trigger, the act - was gone now, drained from your veins, leaving behind nothing but the shaky, fragile remnants of your composure. Cold sweat clung to your skin. Your vision tunnelled, the walls pressing closer, the ceiling collapsing in until there was no space to escape. 

You’d let this get way out of hand, again.

Your legs buckled, sending you crashing to the floor. Panic tore through you like a beast with claws, raking at your insides, ripping away your control with every jagged breath. You wrapped your arms around yourself, knees pulled tight to your chest, hoping to steady the trembling. But it didn't stop. You couldn't stop it. Your vision blurred, but it wasn't the tears that made everything fuzzy - it was the weight of what you were feeling, the terrifying realisation that it was happening all over again. The obsession, the pull, the way it was consuming every part of you.

Not again, you thought. Not this time.

You crawled to the sink, fingers scraping across the floor, desperate for something - anything - to pull you out of the darkness, to ground you before you fell too far. Cold water, maybe. Something real. Something that wasn’t the chaotic storm brewing inside your mind. You splashed water on your face, the icy shock biting into your skin, but it did nothing. The panic surged back, stronger, relentless, crashing over you like a wave you couldn’t outrun.

You’d promised yourself you wouldn’t fall this deep, wouldn’t let this obsession take root, but here you were, collapsing under its weight. You thought you could handle it, that you were stronger, but it had only been waiting, lurking in the shadows, ready to pounce the moment you let your guard down.

And you had let it down. It was worse this time. So much worse.You’d killed someone!

You’d killed someone for him. Sylus. A man more dangerous than anyone you’d ever known, yet you couldn’t stop thinking about him. His voice, his body, the way his red eyes seemed to pierce through everything. You pressed a trembling hand to your chest, willing your heart to slow down, but the panic had already dug its claws into you.

You’d gone through this before, with Noah. You were younger then, so naive, so infatuated. His smile - that smile - it had filled you with hope, hadn’t it? But now, as your mind confronted the memories, you couldn’t see the warmth, only the way it had twisted, turned to something darker. 

Noah was the first, the one who had pulled you into obsession before you even realised what was happening. It had started innocently enough - late nights thinking about him, replaying conversations in your head, convincing yourself that your feelings were normal, just a budding romance. But before you knew it, you were driving by his house late at night, just to catch a glimpse of his car, tracking his movements, and constantly wondering where he was, who he was with.

And then you were caught.

You weren’t supposed to be there, but you couldn’t stay away. He’d been on a date, some diner that you couldn’t recall the name of now. You’d watched from the shadows, unable to tear your eyes away from the way he smiled at her, the look in his eyes as they roamed her body, how he touched her hand like it was nothing. Like you were nothing. You couldn’t help it. You couldn’t stay away.

You’d hovered at the bar, pretending to wait for a drink, but you weren't fooling anyone. Try as you might to keep a casual facade, it didn't work. Your gaze bored into him, convinced that somehow, if you watched long enough, if you stayed close enough, he would realise you had been there for him all along, that you were the only one who was truly right for him. 

You’d caught her attention. Her eyes narrowing in suspicion, her smile faltering. She had leaned in, whispering something to Noah, and a moment later, she was gone. She’d left, and it was all because of you.

Noah’s frustration had been palpable. He’d walked her to the door, his hands stuffed in his pockets, but when he turned back and saw you - saw you standing there, waiting - his face had twisted darkly, becoming almost  unrecognisable. His eyes narrowed, his jaw clenched.

“You,” he hissed, voice low and dangerous. His eyes were wild, his hands shaking with barely contained rage. “What the hell are you doing here? What the fuck are you doing?” 

The restaurant had gone silent, but he didn’t care. You wanted to explain, to tell him you were just looking out for him, but the words wouldn’t come. They caught in your throat, choking you, and you could only stand there, frozen under the weight of his fury.

He stepped closer, fists clenched, his voice rising, each word sharper, cutting through you. “You followed me here, didn’t you? You just can’t stop. You’re obsessed. Fucking obsessed.”

His words cut through you like a knife, but you still couldn’t defend yourself. You’d wanted to help, to be close to him, but now all you could see was the hatred in his eyes. How could you defend yourself against that?

“You’re a freak,” he spat, voice dripping with venom. “Who the hell could ever fall in love with a delusional freak like you? You’re a stalker. A goddamn stalker.”

‘A freak,’ he had said. 'A delusional freak.’ The words echoed, louder, bouncing off the walls of your mind, freak, freak, freak, until there was no escaping them. The words had ripped through you, the rejection crashing down like a tidal wave. You’d stood there, frozen, unable to speak, unable to move. 

When you didn’t take the hint - when you didn’t leave, didn’t stop staring at him with that desperate, hurt look in your eyes - he snapped. His hand came up before you could even react, and the punch sent you stumbling back, the shock of it making your knees buckle. The pain had come later. In that moment, all you felt was the crushing rejection and his disgust.

Who could ever fall in love with a delusional freak like you?

You pressed your hands to your ears as if you could drown the words out, but it was useless. They wouldn’t go away.

But this time, it wasn’t Noah.

His words still echoed in your head, even now, as you curled in on yourself on the cold floor of your apartment. The shame, the humiliation... it had broken you then, and you swore you’d never let it happen again. That  you’d never lose control like that.

But here you were. Falling apart. Falling deeper. And it wasn’t just some man from your hometown. This time it was Sylus, there was no logic to this pull.

You squeezed your eyes shut, willing the memories to fade, but all you could see was Noah’s face twisting in hatred, twisting and morphing further until the likeness of him disappeared leaving only Sylus. his sharp jaw, the glint of red in his eyes, the way he moved with a predator’s grace.  Always there. His sharp jaw, his red eyes, the way he moved - like a predator. His hands, gripping your waist, your thighs-

Stop. You need to stop.

Your breath came in short, sharp gasps as the panic clawed at your chest, tightening its grip. You knew how this ended. You’d been here before, on your knees, gasping for air, lost in an all consuming web of feelings that were too intense for you to understand. And you were powerless to stop it.

Tears stung, blurring your vision, but there was no escaping it. You were sinking, drowning in it. And the worst part? You didn’t want it to stop. Even now, with the panic tearing you apart, you still wanted him. You still craved his touch. 

And that terrified you more than anything.

➽──────────────────────────────────❥

Ahhhh! chapter 2 has been so hard for me to write and I actually considered just giving up and leaving this fic unfished, but I'm so glad I pushed through! ❥ Please let me know what you think!

[cha-melodius]

Hello hello! Firstprince at a trashy American fast food or fast casual restaurant of your choice please!

(Idk if Waffle House counts as fast food or fast casual, but it had the right vibes. 😂 Thanks so much for the fun prompt, carrot!)

Infinitely Late at Night

(T, 2.7k, read below or on AO3)

Alex can’t pinpoint the first time he truly notices the man who sits at the third stool from the end of the counter. It’s almost as if he’s always been there, just outside of the periphery of Alex’s vision, until finally something about him sticks in Alex’s mind. Perhaps it’s that, from the back—which is how Alex mostly sees him—he’s not very notable. Tall, blond, with broad shoulders and a narrow waist, wearing the most boring and nondescript clothes you could imagine. But then, one day, as Alex is taking a little break to stretch his back after hours of being hunched over a computer, his eyes catch on the man and he thinks: Huh.

There aren’t a lot of people who regularly come to this Waffle House in the wee hours of the night during the week, which is one of the reasons Alex likes it. There’s Joe, who comes in at 5AM the end of his overnight shift, and Cindy, who stops in around 2AM for a cup of coffee in between bus routes. Then there’s Alex, who started coming here during his first year of law school for all-night study or writing sessions, and who still finds his way here when he can’t sleep and needs to get out of his apartment. Which is regularly. He always camps out in the same booth in the front so he can watch the night sluggishly move by through the front window when he’s not working. There’s something comforting about the smell of frying bacon and waffle batter, and Pamela who works overnights always keeps his coffee topped up.

He likes his routine. He’s not expecting it to change.

Once he notices the new(?) blond man, though, he can’t seem to stop. The way he hums softly sometimes, snatches of melodies Alex can’t place. The curve of his full lips, just about the only things that are flushed with color on his otherwise pale face. His long, elegant fingers first, drumming idly on the countertop as he bends over a book to read, or curling around a ceramic mug. The lilt of his British accent when he exchanges a few words with Pamela. And once, Alex accidentally caught his gaze when he got up to leave, and he got briefly trapped in the most stunning pale blue eyes he’s ever seen. The man never eats anything, no matter how long he stays, only orders a cup of tea and leaves an enormous tip when he departs.

Alex is fascinated despite himself, even though everyone knows you mind our own goddamned business in the Waffle House at 3AM. Where did he come from? What is he doing here? Not even Pamela knows—he’s asked, on nights when the man hasn’t shown up—and Pamela knows everything.

Then, one day Alex is coming back from the bathroom and not paying attention to where he’s going, and his shoulder collides with a very solid body. The mystery guy barely moves, but he lets out an oof as Alex bounces off of him, only narrowly keeping his feet.

“Fuck, sorry man,” Alex apologizes, his tongue darting out to wet his lips as he stares. He’d known the man was tall, but it still surprises him how far he has to look up into those startled blue eyes. Up close, he seems to be about Alex’s age, though it’s very hard to say. There aren’t any obvious creases marking his skin, but there’s something that feels oddly ancient in the man’s gaze. Mesmerizing, even when his eyes drop to follow the movement of Alex’s tongue. Alex feels caught in it.

Something had hit the ground when they’d bumped into each other, and Alex finally tears his eyes away and looks down to find a worn leather notebook on the floor. It falls open when he picks it up, the pages full of dense, elegant cursive in an unusual red-brown ink, but he doesn’t have a chance to look at it closely before the man snatches it away, holding it close to his chest with clear alarm.

“That’s mine,” he says sharply, his eyes wide.

“I know,” Alex replies carefully. “Just picking it up for you. Y’know, since I was the reason it was on the floor.”

The man swallows. “Right. Thank you.”

“I’m Alex,” Alex says, sticking out his hand. Perhaps predictably, given his odd behavior, the man just stares at it. “You’re a regular now, huh? I’ve seen you around.”

The man blinks slowly, making no move to shake Alex’s hand, and Alex is just about to drop it and give it up for good when he finally reaches out. His hand is soft and cool to the touch, his neatly trimmed nails standing in contrast to Alex’s bitten-down ones.

“Henry,” the man says. “I just moved here a month ago.”

“Night owl, or night shift?”

Henry hesitates. “A bit of both, I suppose,” he answers after another few beats. “I do work nights.”

“Better than just not sleeping,” Alex laughs self-deprecatingly.

“Perhaps if you didn’t consume coffee at quite that rate,” Henry says with a tiny smile tugging at the corner of his mouth, which surprises him. Alex hadn’t realized Henry had been noticing him, too.

Alex grins. “Everyone’s a critic.” He lets a moment of silence pass; the faint clatter of dishes filters out from the kitchen. “You were heading out?”

Henry nods. “My next shift.”

“I’ll let you go, then,” he says, even though he wants to ask doing what. Henry didn’t offer, and he’s not pushy enough to ask. Yet. “See you around, Henry.”

~~~~~

He does see Henry around after that, quite a bit. Sometimes they just exchange greetings and stick to their own business. Sometimes Henry sits with him in his booth, after Alex invited him one time and it became a bit of an irregular habit until eventually Henry sits with him more often than not. He learns that Henry is a year older than him and he’s been living in the US for a while, but only recently moved to Texas. That he came here to escape the family business and ended up in it anyway—though Alex doesn’t find out what that business is.

He also learns that Henry is witty and smart and really fucking charming. When he fixes Alex in that pale blue gaze of his, it’s like nothing else exists in the world. Alex is, for lack of a better word, entranced. He wants to spend more time with Henry. Get to know him. Kiss the coy smile off those full, pink lips.

“Hey, uh,” Alex ventures one evening, fidgeting restless in his nervousness. “You ever do things in the daytime? Like, maybe we could have a normal meal together? Go for a walk?”

Henry smiles at him, an odd wistfulness to the slant of it. “Not usually, no. I mostly sleep during the day.”

The thing is, Alex is also pretty sure Henry is a vampire.

Vampires aren’t real, of course. Everyone knows that. But the list of evidence Alex compiles is pretty damning. Extremely pale skin. Only active at night. Never eats regular food. Seductive as all hell. Preternatural reflexes—Alex once saw him catch a falling teacup at a speed that shouldn’t be humanly possible. Sometimes talks like he’s from an earlier century. And more than once, there have been little dark splatters on his clothes. Henry said it was ink, but it could have been blood.

Alex doesn’t want to think about why none of this seems to matter to his interest in Henry. Maybe it’s Henry’s vampire mind control powers. Maybe it’s just Alex’s tendency towards shitty self-preservation. Regardless, Alex still wants him. Wonders how to broach the subject. Hey, just so you know, I’m a blood donor. That’s probably too cheesy. He’s workshopping it.

For now, they spend time together, and Alex catalogs every time Henry’s gaze lingers on his hands, or on his body, or on his lips.

Alex is pretty sure Henry wants him, too. Hopefully, for more than just a meal.

~~~~~

Their visits to the Waffle House don’t always overlap. Alex isn’t there every night, and some nights, Henry doesn’t show. Alex tries not to worry. They’ve never exchanged phone numbers because they see each other so regularly. It’s not lost on him that Henry could just disappear and Alex wouldn’t know how to find him again, but he still hasn’t gotten up the nerve to ask. He’d need a reason, wouldn’t he? And every time he tries to suggest they do something else outside of sitting at a Waffle House in the middle of the night, Henry brushes him off.

It’s fine. He’s perfectly happy like this.

It’s nearly 4AM, which means Henry’s most likely not showing, and Alex decides to call it a night. He’ll go home and scrape together a few hours of sleep, then come back tomorrow. So what if he’s getting less sleep than ever before because he doesn’t want to miss the chance of seeing Henry at the Waffle House? He’s managing.

By this time of night, the air has lost all of its lingering heat, but somehow it feels closer than it did when he came in. The sounds of traffic from the highway nearby are muffled, and everything is unnaturally still. Alex picks up the pace as he heads toward his car, hunching over a little as his hand tightens on his satchel.

“Alex.”

Alex’s steps falter and he looks over his shoulder, but there’s no one there. “H?” he calls out. “Is that you?”

A shadow moves near the rear of the building, slowly resolving into the shape of a person. Tall, lanky, broad shoulders. His face is shadowed, but the harsh streetlights cast a glow around the edges of his pale hair. It’s gotta be Henry, because no one else matching that description should know his name. At least not anyone who’d be at a Waffle House at 4AM. 

“Anyone ever tell you it’s kinda creepy to hang out in the dark?” Alex asks with a nervous laugh as he takes a few steps closer, glancing over his shoulder into the darkness pressing in around them. “What’re you doing out here?”

The man-who-might-be-Henry doesn’t move, and Alex keeps approaching, drawn in despite the warning bells going off in his head. Something pulls him in, inevitably and inexorably, and his feet move without his permission until he stops in front of Henry—or, not Henry, because when the man finally looks up his eyes are completely black in the low light, and his mouth is hard and cruel as it splits into a vicious grin.

“Waiting for a meal,” he growls in a voice full of gravel and nails.

With a speed that definitely isn’t human, his hand darts out and closes in the front of Alex’s shirt, hauling him nearly off his feet as he swings around toward the building. The back of Alex’s head slams into the brick wall when he’s shoved up against it, and he gasps as stars burst in his vision. Trying to blink them away, he struggles against the man’s hold, but the single hand might as well be pressing with a thousand pounds against his chest.

“Mm,” the man hums, leaning in close to Alex’s neck as his other hand comes up to press just above Alex’s collarbones, icy cold where they dig into soft flesh. “He’s always had good taste, I’ll give him that.”

Alex digs his fingernails into the unyielding wrist, choking as his vision swims. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees a flash of gleaming white. Fangs.

So vampires are fucking real. Alex would feel vindicated if he wasn’t scared absolutely shitless. Fuck, if he gets himself turned undead, June’s never going to let him hear the end of it—

The vampire jerks backward, as if struck by an invisible blow. A second later, Alex realizes that he wasn’t struck but dragged away by another person. Tall. Blond. Blue eyes almost glowing in the low light. And absolutely covered in blood that’s spraying everywhere as he draws a gleaming knife across the vampire’s neck. A horrible gurgling keen pierces the night for a split second, only to be cut off when Henry drives a wooden stake up under the vampire’s ribs and into his heart.

The only sound that breaks the dreadful silence that follows is the ragged sound of Alex’s breathing.

“What,” he croaks out, “the fuck.”

Henry kneels by the vampire’s supine form, an odd sort of regretful expression on his face. “I’ve been hunting him for a long time,” he mutters before he glances up at Alex again. “You’ll want to look away for this part.”

Alex doesn’t need to be told twice, nor does he let himself think about what Henry might be doing back there. He hums to himself to drown out any sounds, staring up at the stars, until he feels a gentle hand brush his shoulder.

“I thought they turned to dust when you staked them?” Alex asks. The vampire’s boots are just visible out of the corner or his eye.

“A common myth,” Henry says, a little wryly. “Are you all right, love?”

Alex clears his throat and narrowly resists reaching up to touch his own neck as the endearment lands squarely in the middle of his chest and sends out warm fingers that chase away the lingering chill from the vampire’s grip. “Fine,” he says. “Though it’s possible I have a mild concussion? I don’t know how else to explain what just happened. Are you some kind of vampire hunter?”

“Monsters, more broadly. Vampires are the most common, though.” Henry gives a small, humorless laugh. “The family business.”

“Fuck,” Alex says. “I just thought y’all were in, like, marketing or something.”

“You thought I worked nights… in marketing?” Henry asks dubiously.

“I didn’t really think about it that hard, ok?” Alex huffs. “Can we go back to the part where you saved me from a vampire?”

Henry’s face crumples. “I’m sorry, Alex. I should have known he’d go after you.”

“Hey,” Alex says gently, “it’s not your fault.”

“That’s where you’re wrong,” Henry says, his lips twisting bitterly. “He had a penchant for turning people that I… care about. I think he liked the sport of it. It’s part of why I’ve not let myself get too close to anyone in years.”

“Oh,” Alex breathes as the implications of all of that sink in. “You care about me.”

Henry gives him a look like he’s being ridiculous. “To a rather dangerous degree, as it turns out. I nearly got you killed. Or worse.”

Alex moves before he even knows what he’s doing, grabbing Henry on both sides of his face and hauling him into a bruising kiss. It’s a little awkward because of the angle and the fact that Henry freezes, but a second later he’s kissing Alex back just as desperately. He does not, however, put his hands anywhere on Alex’s body, which is as disconcerting as it is disappointing.

“Why aren’t you touching me, baby?” Alex nearly whines, his lips still brushing Henry’s. He’s shaking now, whether from the adrenaline crash or the terror of realizing how close he came to death finally catching up to him is hard to say, but he’s pretty sure he’s going to die if he allows more than an inch of space between them right now.

Henry makes a sound like he’s been wounded. “I’m covered in blood, darling,” he protests, though he punctuates it with another kiss. “Don’t want to get it on you.”

“I don’t care about the fucking blood, hold me, please—”

Turns out, there’s nothing in the world that feels better than being wrapped up in Henry’s strong arms.

~~~~~

“I can’t believe you thought I was a vampire.”

“C’mon, baby. You kinda fit the profile.”

“Only because the entirety of your knowledge of vampires comes from films.”

“And Buffy.”

“Oh, of course. An unassailable source. Why on Earth do I put up with this?”

“Because you love me?”

“Mm.” Henry kisses him, soft and slow. “That must be it.”

[missadangel]

The Heart of Rome (Marcus Acacius x Reader)

All Chapters List

Chapter 11: The Accusation (+18 - MDNI-Mature)

gif --- ayo-edebiri

“Ad astra per aspera”

To the stars though difficulties…

Villa…

"I need you to help me to kill Caracalla.”

You stared at Julia's face in astonishment, trying to make sense of what you just heard. Her dark brown eyes were serious, but you noticed something in her expression that you couldn't identify – it was somewhere between fear and unease.

"You came to my house to ask me to help you kill your son? Is that correct?”

“He is no longer my son. Macrinus has made him a mere plaything. He pretty much does whatever he wants. He had his relatives killed, without any hesitation. I can't let him kill Geta too. It's only a matter of time. I can't lose Geta.” She sounded upset when she mentioned him. "I lost everything to Macrinus. First he took my son, then my reputation. My own son won't listen to me, he sent me into exile, which is unacceptable." Her tearful voice suddenly turned serious. "I have no one left to go to but you which Acacius had a hand in this, of course.”

‘What are you sa-?’

"He wiped out my men in Legates. They were my last remaining stronghold. I did everything I could to keep them on my side for all those years. Did he tell you how he killed them? I'm sure he didn't, so as not to startle you."

You took a deep breath and tried to remain calm. "My husband doesn't hide anything from me. But even if he did, I'm sure he has his own reasons." You said confidently.

"Sure he has!" she said sarcastically.

She was testing the limits of your patience. "Cease talking nonsense about my husband!" You barked. "Simply say whatever you came to say then take your leave.”

"Fair enough.” She crossed her legs. “Caracalla must die before Macrinus returns to Rome. Before he appoint him as Praetorian prefect (commander of the Imperial Guard)." She took a deep breath. "I'm sure of that he will take action against my sons once he assumes command of the guards. This could potentially lead to him ascending the throne. However, if Caracalla dies, it might weaken Macrinus' position. It would be more feasible to defeat him when Geta is emperor.”

"And you needn't worry about being hidden away in the shadows, as it seems unlikely that Geta will exile you like his brother did? It sounds like you're saving yourself.” She averted her eyes which meant you were right. "But why do you need my help exactly?"

"I believe you care about Geta, don't you? He also cares for you in some way. Perhaps more than you realise.”

“There’s nothing—“

You were about to protest, but she silenced you by raising her hand. “I am his mother, so I know him well and I know you don't wish him dead too. Besides, it would be better for everyone if he rules Rome alone. So Caracalla must die as soon as possible before harms him. You're a medicus, aren't you? You could make a concoction of herbs that will kill him painlessly.”

Her words were sharp, but her gaze was unwavering, declaring that this was the path she had to take. But it was still strange that she said it so easily. It felt wrong.

"I wouldn't have come to you if I didn't have to. It's only a matter of time before he finds out, accuse me of betrayal, and send me back. This is our sole opportunity before Macrinus's return."

‘Our? There is no ‘our’, there is no we. Furthermore, it is not a decision that can be made alone. You present this as an easy solution, but I am a married woman and my husband is a Roman general. What will happen to my husband if your plan fails? Have you ever considered this?”

She rolled her eyes. “Isn't that why you should help me? Once he's dealt with my sons, Macrinus' next target is General Acacius. To get you.” You knew exactly what she meant and she realized that. "I imagine your husband feels very regretful about not taking Macrinus out that night. Because I know he won't let him get away with it.”

You swallowed hard, hating to admit that she was right. Julia smiled, seeming amused by your expression. "Oh, poor Aurelia. It must be tough to be caught between three men. Yet you are fortunate. Even if you were to become a widow one day, there'd be another man waiting for you. Since you're a Roman princess, you're worth a great deal.”

That was the last straw. You felt a rush of anger and stood up abruptly. “Get out of my house now! Leave!” You barked, pointing your finger at the courtyard door. Julia stood up, looking insolent.

“If you truly care about Geta, think about what I said.”

“I said leave!” You shouted, then pointing your finger at her. “I'm warning you, don't you ever speak ill of my husband and don't come to my house again!”

Some of the slaves rushed towards you.

“Domina!”

“Escort Lady Domna outside.” You said sharply.

Julia gave you a stern look and turned away. She raised her hand to stop the slave who was approaching her. Then she left the courtyard. You were still pretty angry and tired, which made your head spin even more. Decima put her arm around you and made you sit on the lectus (couch). She grabbed your feet and gently lifted them, helping you lie down. Norell and Tullia were keeping an eye on you from a distance, looking a bit worried. You looked them with a half smile and told them to get on with their work. You leaned your head back and closed your eyes. Decima took your hand.

"Would you like me to make you some dittany tea (cretan thyme)?" It was an herb that was usually used for relaxation. Decima was from Egypt, so she was familiar with herbal teas. Well, not as familiar as you are, of course.

You looked at her. "Not that, not if I'm..." you said quietly.

"Oh, you're right. Chamomile then?”

"Yes, that's better. Thank you my dear.”

After drinking your chamomile tea, you fell asleep in the courtyard. The slaves were mindful of your need for rest and made every effort to avoid disturbing you. Those who walked towards the courtyard did so as quietly as they could. Then Mau appeared and jumped next to you. However, you were so deeply asleep that you were unaware that she had fallen asleep on your lap. You were suddenly awakened by the sound of a sword being unsheathed and a man shouting. Mau meowed loudly, jumped out of your lap in fright and sought refuge elsewhere.

Seeing Octavius holding his sword to a man's throat who you had never seen before. Opened your eyes in surprise.

“Sir! Have mercy please!” He begged. You noticed some parchment papers and a reed pen in his hand.

You sat up on the couch. “Octavius, what is happening here?”

"My lady, this rat was attempting to draw your likeness without your permission."

You were taken aback. "Can you clarify what you mean by that?”

Decima turned to you. "This man came for the General, but we informed him that he was not present. I then assumed that he had departed. Forgive me, my lady.”

Your eyesbrows rose. “You came to draw my husband?”

The man swallowed. Octavius shook him. “Lady Aurelia asked you a question. Speak, thief!”

You warned him, “Octavius, please put that sword away and allow the man to speak.”

He obeyed. The man stood up ad bowed. “Yes, my lady. Aventine cloth dyers association are paying me to do a mural of General Acacius and the tiger he fought in the arena, my lady.”

“Explain yourself. Why would they do that?” Octavius barked.

“He’s famous, sir, the city, all the Roman citizens likes him. He’s a hero.”

You smiled, and he was indeed a hero to you. You picked up the fallen scrolls and took a moment to examine them. He had painted you so well, even the mau in your lap, which you found quite remarkable.

"But you drew me, his wife," you murmured.

"My lady, allow me to beat this insolent rat to death," Octavius hissed. The man shuddered with fear.

"Please, sir. Leave him alone," you said, a little harshly.

"My lady, forgive me. You were so beautiful when you slept that I was overcome with admiration and wanted to draw your likeness.”

You felt your cheeks flush involuntarily.

“How dare you!” Octavius roared.

“Calm yourself, sir.” You gave Octavius a warning look. You stood up and approached the man. “Please rise.”

The man stood up looking a little ashamed.

“I'll tell my husband you came by. You are well talented, I liked your drawing,” you said, showing him the parchment. “May I keep this?”

He looked at you and gave you a big, warm smile. "It's already yours, my lady. I'm really pleased you think so.

You glanced at Octavius, who seemed to be losing patience. Then you looked at the man. “You may yet leave now.”

The man bowed his head and gave you a shy look, then turned and walked out of the courtyard. Octavius accompanied him outside. You and Decima studied the painting the artist had created. She then enquired as to whether she might bring you something to eat, and with your approval, she departed. It would seem that Mau was hungry when she returned to you, as she rubbed her tail against your leg. She meowed loudly when she saw Norell approaching you a moment later with a tray in her hands.

"Where's Decima? I thought she was supposed to bring the food.

You noticed that Norell's cheeks flushed. "Well, my lady, she had some more work to do in the kitchen."

"Is she all right?"

She nodded, but her freckled cheeks were still red. You grabbed her wrist as her furtive look and tone of voice made you wonder what she was hiding. "Tell me, what's going on?"

"Um, Decima. She took food to Sir Octavius." She averted her eyes from you and smiled in a way that seemed a little evasive. You blinked in surprise and then laughed.

“Oh, well, well,” you said, amused. “When these two have become so close?"

Norell chuckled. "It has been a while now. She often speaks of him."

You giggled. "Where might they be now?"

She turned her head towards the courtyard. “Over there.”

"Perhaps we could go and take a quick look at them," you suggested, with a hint of mischief in your voice.

Norell let out a soft laugh and followed you behind. The slave at the door was about to speak to you but you silenced him by putting your index finger to your lips.

You and Norell peered out of the door, observed Octavius and Decima by the stables, talking, smiling at each other. The slave at the door looked at them from behind you and grinned too.

As you watched them from a distance you recognized a familiar feeling in the way they looked at each other, love.

"My dear Decima," you murmured, sharing her happiness.

Norell sighed deeply. "I hope that one day I will be in love too.”

You heard the other slave sigh and you both looked at him with surprise. He bowed his head shyly.

“Domina? My lady?”

All three of you were startled by Tullia's loud voice. Decima had heard it too, and when she turned her head towards you three. You blushed and hurried inside.

“Tullia! Why are you shouting?” you snapped.

“Oh, forgive me. I thought…”

You and Norell had laughed loudly running towards the other courtyard. Tullia was looking at you, a bit confused. Decima came into the courtyard and made her way towards your voices.

“My lady?” She then looked at Norell in a rather angry way.

“I didn't say anything,” she said, holding up her hands.

"Come now, why are you keeping this from me?" you smiled at her.

Decima blushed.

“You're already sooo obvious.” Norell said smugly.

“What did you say?” Decima frowned and approached her and Norell turned around to run away. They ran into the courtyard and you followed. Decima cupped water from the fountain and threw it at her. Norell also did the same. They began to soak each other, laughing together. Norell ran towards you, intending to hide, but as Decima attempted to throw water at her again, the water hit you in the face, and you flinched when you felt the cold water on your skin.

“Gods!” Tulla cried out. She ran towards you. “My lady, are you alright? Look what you've done! Cease this nonsense now!” She yelled at them.

Mau had also got her share of a soaking, licking herself like mad to dry.  Decima and Norell were looking at you with guilty looks on their faces. But you, far from being angry, approached them with a serious expression and cupped the water from the fountain and threw in their faces. And a fun game began between the three of you. Tullia's grunts mixed with your laughter and echoed throughout the courtyard.

By the time the general arrived, you were still engaged in your game. Octavius was observing you at the door, perhaps not fully aware of his surroundings.  Marcus heard the loud, cheerful laughter and dismounted, heading for the courtyard with curiosity. He looked where Octavius was looking and was struck by the difference between this view and the one he saw every time he returned home. It was unlike anything he had ever seen before. He was at a loss as to how to react. He smiled as he recognized your cheerful laughter. Then he looked at Octavius, who looked like he was stunned.

“What are you looking at?” he yelled.

Octavius startled with his loud voice. “Sir!”

“You may leave Octavius,” he grumbled. How dare he watch my wife? he thought. Well actually he was watching someone else but still.

You all froze when you noticed him. Decima and Norell bowed to him and made their way away from the situation as quickly as they could.

“I'll get you some dry clothes, my lady,” Tullia said and ran out of the courtyard.

How great. They all left you alone with Marcus. He regarded you with interest as he approached. The stone floor was quite wet, as were your dress. You bit your lip, uncertain of his reaction. Fortunately, a smile soon appeared on his face, and you breathed a sigh of relief.

"I must apologise for not realising your arrival."

"No need to apologise, my love. There is nothing quite like coming home and hearing your cheerful laugh, which is music to my ears."

You had a sudden sneeze. It wasn't the most romantic answer. Marcus chuckled. “My Lady. You’re all soaked."

Before long, Tullia appeared with a clean dress and the cotton cloth to drying yourself. "If I may, my lady-“

“Give that to me.” Marcus kindly took the cloth from her hand and wrapped it around you. Upon seeing your feet, you instinctively drew them back, as if to hide them. You hadn't realised how wet they were. He smiled and gently took you in his arms, which made your cheeks flush. After all, Tullia was following you behind, carrying your dry clothes in her hands.

Your hand was touching the golden-edged leather strips on his shoulder. Playing with them by running your fingers between each strip. He smiled in response. Once you had entered the room, Marcus set you down. Tullia then placed the dry clothes she had brought for you on the bed, leaving the two of you alone in the room.

"Allow me," you said as you reached for Marcus' armour, but he gently pushed your hands back.

"You first. I do love seeing you like this, but I'm afraid you might catch a chill." His eyes were roaming over your body.

You held his hands and placed them around your waist. “Maybe you could warm me up then?” You smiled naughtily.

He smirked and his hands were already undressing you with haste. Once he had removed your belt and your damp stola, his eyes lingered on the tunic that clung to your body. You were now very aware of the reason for the sudden change in his eyes. That his gentle hands would soon become more impetuous. Even before you reached for the holster on his waist, his lips found yours. His hands were trying to remove your long tunic and you were trying to remove his armour, but it was difficult. When your wet tunic fell to the floor and gathered around your feet, Marcus pushed it aside with his foot, never breaking the kiss. You couldn't tell him to take off his armour because your lips were completely captivated by his. Grabbing you by the hips, he picked you up and put you on the edge of bed. You pulled yourself back with all your might, kneeling on the bed. His armour touching your wet and naked body was a little strange, although seductive. Marcus thought you were playing a game, so he tightened his grip on your lips, not allowing you to break the kiss. But as he tried to come towards you, putting his knee on the bed, the sword at his holster hit the edge. He looked down at himself in surprise and laughed.

“I tried to tell you,” you laughed and helped him out of his armour.

“I must have been under your spell, princess.” He grinned.

Once he'd taken off his armour, Marcus grabbed you around the waist and laid you back on the bed. You couldn't believe how excited you became each time, as if it was the first time he'd ever laid you down and positioned himself on top of you. Moreover, how could it be that each touch of his lips to yours felt so different from the other? It really amazed you that such a simple touch could evoke such strong feelings. Perhaps it was the endless blending of pleasures that this strong bond between you bestowed upon you. What a treat, what a magnificent and wonderful feeling. His lips and tongue were exploring every inch of your body as your bodies fit together perfectly, and you enjoyed one pleasure after another. It felt like there was no end to the adventure of exploring each other's bodies and their needs. Every time you encountered a new sensation and a lot of pleasure. Even Marcus, who was an expert lover, found this to be true. Despite his extensive experience, he had never made love to anyone before you, not even once. It was more than a sexual fulfilment. It satisfies his soul too, as he inhales your scent, touches you, tastes you, he feels complete, he feels alive. To him, you were made for him. The moment you got into his heart, everything lost its meaning; you and all the other insignificant things. You were born into his life like the sun into a dark, war-torn, blood-stained, boring, lonely world. You brought him light and purpose. From now on, he would live to serve you, to make you happy, to protect you from all evil. With you by his side, he was more likely to put his duties for Rome second.

“Marcus,” you moaned. He bent his head and kissed your lips, where you said his name. He didn't want to hear his name from anyone else's lips; only you had to say it, the others not allowed. They couldn't say it like you anyway. It wasn't even a possibility.

“What do you wish me to do, my love?” He whispered in your ear. His lips were caressing your earlobe.

You kissed his cheek and pulled his head towards you with your hands in his hair, it was your turn to whisper in his ear. “You know already.”

He grinned, of course he knew. His big hands gripped your hips tightly, deepening his thrusts and quickening his pace. As you moaned in response, he kissed you. Not to silence you, but to feel your beautiful voice within his very own mouth. Soon together you reached the overwhelming end of your pleasure, moaning into his mouth for the one last time. You remained in that intimate position for a while, breathing heavily. Feeling each other's hearts beating against your chests under your palms. Savoring this glorious moment.

The bright sunshine streamed through the window, illuminating the room with a warm glow. The soft breeze from the balcony caressed your still damp hair, causing you to shiver slightly and pull the sheet over your shoulders. When you heard the swallows chirping, you decided to open your eyes. Marcus wasn't with you in the bed. You frowned and sat up.

“Morning my beautiful wife.”

You turned your head towards his voice. Marcus was at his desk, looking pretty busy with a quill pen and some papers.

“Morning.” You gave him a smile. “Did I sleep for too long again?”

“Just a little,” he replied turning his head back down to continue writing something on the paper. You got up and put on your tunic. However, you then felt nauseous again.

“Excuse me,” you said covering your mouth with hand. Hurried out of the room. Marcus put his quill pen down on the table and stood up. He walked out of the room and followed you into the latrina, waiting outside the door.

"Aurelia, my love. I'm rather concerned."

As you stepped out of the latrina, he put his arms around you.

“Maybe I should call for another medicus?’

"I don't think that is necessary," you said as you walked back to the room together.Marcus helped you to sit on the edge of the bed. He crouched down in front of you, his hands gently smoothing your dishevelled hair.

"You said that you might get better if you rested. However, I can see you're still not feeling well." His face showed concern.

"I'm actually feeling better today." You mumbled. It wasn't a complete lie. The nausea wasn't as bad as it had been the day before. You felt you had no complaints, knowing what was causing this feeling. Marcus lifted your chin up with his hand. You didn't want to tell him before you were certain, but he was so concerned. He needed to know.

"I sense you're hiding something from me.”

You looked at him, blinking your eyes and inhaling a deep breath. "Marcus, I, um. I wasn't sure if I should tell you until I was certain..."

He looked at you from under his eyebrows. "Continue."

You took his hands in yours and looked into his eyes. "I believe I'm with child.”

Marcus froze. His eyes widened in surprise, his pupils dilated. Then the most marvellous smile appeared on his face. He kissed your lips, and his heart overflowed with bliss. He wrapped his arms around you, pulling towards him. He buried his face between your breasts, then slid it to your belly, planting kisses along the way. You felt his lips on your belly.

"What have I done to deserve you?"

“It might be too early to say for sure. Perhaps we should wait a little longer-“

His lips found yours suddenly. He put his knee on the edge of the bed next to yours and laid you back down. You wrapped your arms around his neck. Without breaking the kiss, he settled right next to you on the bed. He put one hand on your belly.

“My beautiful Aurelia,” he purred. “I love you, with all my heart and all my soul.” His warm breath caressed your face, your heart blossomed.

“I love you, Marcus. I love you much more than words can ever say.” You touched his cheek with your fingers. “I hope that I am carrying your child.”

“Our child.” he corrected you.

You smiled. “Our child,” you repeated.

He kissed you again, your heart beat with bliss, which soon turns into desire. “I shall spend all my days with you." He said huskily as his hands lifted up the hem of your tunic. “I shall spend all my time making love to you, over and over until our bodies become one.” His lips found yours again and soon turned into a hungry, lustful kiss. As he slid into your shaking body, and you moaned with exultation. This was love. This was blessing. Elysium on Earth.

Over the next few days, you tried a series of tests to find out whether you were carrying a child or not.One of the tests was a common one in Rome and Egypt. All you had to do was urinate in two different bags; one filled with barley and the other with wheat. If the grain in either bag sprouted after being peed on, it meant the woman was definitely with child.As it turned out, they were right. You saw the barley sprouting within a few days, and the wheat took a little longer. Decima said that meant you were carrying a boy. That's how you felt, they said it was a maternal instinct. You never thought of yourself as a mother, at least not this early. But it was indescribable happiness. Marcus was treating you with more tenderness than ever. You were delighted to be the cause of this amazing man having such wonderful feelings. It was a pleasure to see him so cheerful, and the others in the villa were equally pleased to share in his joy.

During this time, Marcus had been closely involved in the training of the soldiers at the Campus Martius (Fields of Mars) just outside the city. Macrinus had been absent for over a week and it was to be expected that he would soon reach Libya. As the general of the army, it was his duty to be prepared for any eventuality and to train his troops accordingly. No matter how busy he was, no matter how late he came home at night, at the end of the day, you found him in bed snuggled between your breasts and legs. You never complained as you wanted him so much as ever thanks to changes of your body that had led to heightened sexual desire.

That morning, when you were helping Marcus put on his armour, you mentioned Julia. It seems she was pretty desperate, even talking to him about Caracalla too.

"Geta is keeping her hidden," Marcus said as he checked the strings on his armbands, "It's likely that Caracalla will eventually find her. She may have a point about Caracalla being prepared to assign Macrinus as Praetorian prefect. However, he will need to return to accept it. I must finish him before he arrives in Rome." He said with determination.

"I suppose he will return soon, then?”

"He must be. I'm waiting for the messenger pigeon to come back. If the legion commander in Libya confirms he's arrived, I'll make the necessary preparations."

You swallowed, feeling concerned by the fact that he was about to fight Macrinus again. Marcus took your face in his hands.

"Please, do not be concerned, my lady. I gave you my word that you won't lose me."

You nodded. "You do what you need to do, my love."

"I will. For you." He put his hand on your belly. "For our child. I will do whatever it takes to make sure he grows up in a safe Rome, and with other Roman children.”

“I am certain you will.” You embraced him and rested your head on his chest, running your fingers through the contours of the medusa.

“Speaking of children,” Marcus said. You lifted your head to look at him.

“Hmm?”

“All the kids at the Poorhouse and the people there.” He murmured.

“I haven't been to visit them in ages. What about them?”

"You don't have to go. Please don't tire yourself out. I want you to stay here and get some rest. Besides, It seems that Geta is already looking after them in your absence."

You raised your eyebrows in surprise. “Really?”

"Yes, that does astonish me too. I find it unusual that he would spend his coins on something like that."

"He said he would, but I must admit I didn't expect him to keep his promise."

"You might be right about him. Maybe he could be a better emperor.’ You sensed the sincerity of his tone. "However, I tend to agree with Julia about Caracalla." He said, his face suddenly serious. "Every moment he breathes is detrimental to Rome.”

"Julia almost begged me to poison him."

He was checking his sword carefully. "No, that's treacherous. Even for him. He is an emperor, after all. It must be done honorably."

You felt tense. Or was he planning to act soon? He never mentioned it though.

He put his sword in its holster. "Enough politics, I think." He smiled. "I must take my leave now, my lady.”

For some reason, you felt a sudden sense of unease. "Will you be on duty at the Field of Mars today too?"

"That's correct," he replied after adjusting his armour for the last time. "Please don't engage in any risky things during my absence." He said in a commanding tone.

“I'll be making herbal tea, too dangerous,” you said mockingly.

He gave a little laugh and kissed your temple before leaving the room. As you followed him outside, you realised that the uneasy feeling inside you was getting worse. Maybe it was an unnecessary consequence of your new situation: worrying too much about everything. Marcus looked back at you one last time before heading out. You gave him a smile and then he left.

You made your way downstairs to the girls. You had little chat while they were engaged in weaving the carpet. There wasn't much else to do for the rest of the day, except lie down and rest. You visited Unio to feed her and brush her pearly-white mane with your fingers. Marcus had forbidden you to ride, not until the birth. He'd also told you not to go to the poorhouse, and you'd had to obey him on that one too. In the last few days you had become a little better with your knife and Marcus had admired you for it for the first time. But your overly anxious husband didn't want you to pick it up for a while either. Why did carrying a child have to be so boring?

In the evening, you were feeding Mau. Then you heard footsteps approaching from the courtyard.

"Domina!" The slave boy came running to you. He had that look on his face again, hesitation.

"What is it now?"

"The Emperor." He mumbled.

"Sister!"

You were quite taken aback to see Geta appear out of nowhere. He approached you and embraced you while you stared at him with your mouth hanging open.

“What are you doing here?”

Geta made a face. "Is this the manner in which you choose to greet me?"

"Well, apologies. I am simply astonished."

Geta looked around. "So this is your little house.”

You walked towards courtyard together. "Please have a seat, your majesty," you said, gesturing to him.

All eyes in the villa were on your emperor half-brother, who was seated comfortably on the armchair wearing a crown on his head and an overly flamboyant toga. You requested that the slaves bring you wine and fruit. Geta examined the wine glass and took a sip. As you observed him sitting where his mother had sat days ago, you came to recognise the differences between him and her. They were nothing alike. You were surprised that you had never realised this until now.

"It's been almost weeks, I've missed you a lot." He said suddenly. "How are you feeling now?" He looked you up and down.

"I feel better now, thank you." Your hands involuntarily went to your belly. You were unsure whether you should tell him or not. He was so unpredictable that it was difficult to guess the outcome of saying something like this to him. Perhaps it would be best to wait until your belly gets bigger before sharing.

"My mother," he suddenly said in a serious tone. You looked at him. "She's been here. I know what she told you.”

“You do?”

"As she gets older, her behaviour is getting worse. Don't take her seriously."

"Do you think so? What she said to me is something that should be taken seriously."

"You're right, it's horrible. Caracalla really has gone mad, but her intention of killing him... It's simply not right.”

"Is there something new about his madness?"

"Apart from the fact that became Macrinus' plaything? Well, he won't take me to any meetings anymore. He's got a new toy.”

“How you mean?”

"Macrinus' new right-hand man. He's like his shadow, taking care of things while he's away. I've never met him before, but my brother has already assigned him to the important tasks. I hadn't even been informed about it. Can you believe it?"

You thought about what Marcus said to you about Macrinus' spy. "Could he perhaps be one of the legates?"

"No, he's just come from the north. I don't think anyone knows him, not even the general, your husband."

"If Macrinus hid him like Gaius, I don't think he meant well."

"That's what I thought. You're clever, sister. I've missed talking to you. But not politically, of course." He grinned.

You smiled back. "You're helping your mother to hide from Caracalla, aren't you?"

"Yes, I am." He snapped, playing with his glass.

"What if he finds out?"

He shrugged. "That prick sent her without asking me, anyway." Suddenly Geta put his glass on the table and leaned towards you. "Aurelia, he's really out of control. I know Caracalla, always was, but this time it's different. He's hallucinating, dreaming, and that worries me. I know he'll hurt someone else, if not himself. Last time he nearly got me killed, all because of a stupid dream he had."

"Did you say hallucinations?”

He nodded. "I'm certain it's her. Mother. She did this to him. I gave her a clear warning, but she refused to listen. I'm asking you because you're the expert. Is it possible for a herb to have such an effect?"

“Many kinds of plants can do that. But how could Lady Domna possibly poison him?"

"Not directly of course. My slave caught her talking to another slave in the street. She is not aware, but I know everything.” He exhaled deeply. “She should never have come back, she'll get herself killed."

It was something that would endanger not only herself, but everyone including his own son Geta. How could she be so irresponsible? She must be mad for sure just like her son.

"If its on his drink or food, if I can examine it maybe I can help.”

Geta smiled smugly. “That's why I came here.”

He gestured to one of his slaves who was holding a small wooden box. Geta reached the box, opened and took out a vial filled with red liquid and handed it to you.

"Here. This is a sample of the wine he drank yesterday. Will that be enough?"

You took it, uncorked it and sniffed. As you were already highly sensitive to smells, this one smelled completely wrong.

"Yes, I think this would be enough. Let me observe this first.”

"You do that. I must return now. I don't want him to realize I left the palace and came here. He's rather mad and unpredictable more than ever." He stood up and put his hands on your shoulders. "If you happen to find out what it is, send me word. I'll send one of the slaves here. It seems that I can no longer trust my own guards. He is about to place them all under the control of Macrinus' rat."

You nodded. "I will see what I can do, brother."

Suddenly he leaned in, wrapping his arms around you. You tried to pull back, but it was futile.

“Geta,” you hissed. “You should not touch me like this. Please-“

“What's wrong with embracing my sister?” he said arrogantly.

You couldn't help but feel that he was right, but it still felt a little awkward. He laughed at the look on your face and leaned his head down to kiss your cheek. "Take care of yourself, sister. Hope I'll see you soon," he said, with a wink, and left the courtyard with his slaves following him behind.

Campus Martius. (Field of Mars).

General Acacius arrived there after completing his other duties at the barracks. The layout of this place is reminiscent of an army camp, with a number of small buildings.

“Attention! The general is here!” Octavius barked at the soldiers. They immediately stood at attention.

Acacius' eyes were fixed on the recruits. Some of them were pretty clumsy. He jumped down from his horse, squinting at them.

"Chin up! Chest out! Shoulders back! Suck your stomach in!” Octavius commanded, touching their shoulders to ensure they were doing it right. Then he ran to Acacius' side as he approached them. "Sir!" he nodded to him.

"Sir Octavius, these soldiers are struggling to get in line properly! This is how you train them?” he yelled at him.

That's what being a Roman General entailed, after all. Keeping an eye on the rookies and their commanders, supervising his second-in-command, training all the soldiers to keep the army ready for anything, constantly meeting with the Legates to assess the situation. Keeping track of the legions abroad was undoubtedly the hardest task. The army pigeon was the most efficient way to communicate. A trained pigeon could deliver a message in two or three days, whereas a soldier would take months to do the same.

He looked the soldiers in the face as he passed, tapping some on the shoulder to make sure they were properly in line. The soldiers saluted him by putting their hands on their chests. Some of them looked nervous.

“At ease!” Marcus shouted and the soldiers got into a relaxed position to continue their training.

Octavius walked with him towards the building where the Genaral's room was located. Cato was there, waiting for him outside his room. He saluted him.

“Cato, why you are not with the recruits?’’

"Sir, I wanted to let you know that the pigeon has arrived. I have placed it in its cage and I am waiting here to ensure its safety." He said it in a very serious manner.

Octavius chuckled. Marcus grinned.

“Are you thinking what I'm thinking?” Marcus asked him. They were both looking at Cato.

“I believe this prick using the bird as an excuse to avoid training.”

Cato opened his eyes wide. “Never, sir!”

"Who gave you permisson to talk back?" Marcus shouted at him. "Now get out of my sight before I train you myself!"

“Yes, sir!”

Marcus and Octavius laughed after he hurriedly picked up his sword and rushed out. "This boy is really...” He murmured.

"He's been working really hard lately," Octavius said, opened the door and waited for Marcus to enter.

“Do you believe so?” He entered the room and sitting down in his chair and putting his sword on the desk.

"I think he's ready for the platoon training. If you agree.”

Marcus opened the lid of the cage and took the small sealed paper tied to the pigeon's foot. "I still don't think he's ready. He must to learn to overcome his hesitation first." The seal belonged to the Eighth Legion. It was stationed in Leptis Magna, a likely place for Macrinus to visit. Marcus lifted the seal and opened the thin paper.

“My dear friend, the esteemed General Acacius. I Caius Drusus commander of eighth legion, salute you! I have dispatched my men to the harbour of Alexandria as you ordered, however both ships that came from Rome brought only armoury and provisions. Sir Macrinus or his men were not among those who disembarked. Also, we have received word of a few men gathering in the Syrian sector, which may be in line with your suspicions. We await your orders. Rome Victrix!”

Marcus crumpled the paper in his fist and squeezed it. Octavius figured it was bad news.

“Sir? What does it say?”

Marcus slammed his hand down hard on the desk, his whole body filled with anger. “Damn you Macrinus!”

Marcus found himself somewhat perplexed. He was certain that Macrinus was on his way to Ostia and that the ship was waiting for him there. But why hadn't he been seen in the harbour? Octavius picked up the paper he had crumpled up and read it with curiosity.

“How can this be?" He put his hands on the desk and looked at him. Or maybe he never actually left? Did he play a trick on us?"

Marcus was mulling it over. Why would he do that? What was he trying to act? He was such a clever enemy that he never gave away his trail. For Marcus, fighting was simple. It was easy to move your sword according to your enemies movement and cut him down. But playing mind games was tough. It was exhausting to think like your enemy, to anticipate his next move, to always try to be one step ahead of him. Especially when the enemy was someone who had the emperor in the palm of his hand. Could he be seeking retaliation? Or had he never left Rome? Marcus exhaled nervously.

“Octavius, I want you to place two men outside the villa.” He ordered, turning to him. “Is Felix still on Palatine Hill?”

"Yes, sir. He's positioned there as you ordered." He'll let me know if anything arises.

Marcus put his hand to his face, closed his eyes and sighed again. “We're missing something, Octavius.”

“What could it be, sir?”

“I'm not certain yet. But I'll find out. Make sure all the men are gathered in our usual place tomorrow night, in incognito. We shall talk over. Now leave me alone.”

“Yes sir,” he said and left the room.

Villa…

You had been studying the wine residue that Geta had brought you for most of the day, with the help of Decima and Norell. Despite making a few mistakes and experiencing a few setbacks, you eventually managed to identify the substance as the fruit of the Red Shanglu plant (Phytolacca acinosa). Given its red colour, it was a logical that it would blend well with wine.

“Why doesn't it kill him immediately?” Decima asked. She shook the vial in her hand.

"It's not a particularly poisonous plant. Or maybe the person who made it is inexperienced with it. However, even the smallest amount could cause brain damage. That's more dangerous than death,” you muttered.”

“What kind of fruit is this? Can we find it around here?” Norell asked.

“No, unfortunately not. It's probably a fruit from China or somewhere nearby.”

“Didn't the Empress come here from Syria?” Decima asked.

“Damascus is frequented by Chinese traders, couldn't she have brought it from there?”

“That is true.” When you were in Egypt,your uncle had purchased a number of plants from traders who came from Damascus to Alexandria. This was not an auspicious sign. It would be very difficult to create an antidote without the plant itself.

“So what are you going to do?” Norell asked.

“I need to to speak with Geta. I must inform him of this."

“But the soldiers outside, won't let you.” Decima murmured.

Right. Two of Marcus's men arrived at noon for some reason. You were certain that if you went with them to Geta, there would be tension between those two again. Moreover, it was already dark, and he must be on his way back.

You opened your small leather notebook to review the notes you had taken earlier and consulted the description of this plant. From what you can gather from your notes, it seems that reversing it is not an option. However, there was another fruit that could potentially help to mitigate and cure it. Acorus gramineus (commonly known as Japanese sweet flag). Of course. How you didn’t think of that? You recalled your Uncle Vicius with respect and found that his teachings had proved useful to you in your life. You promptly rose to your feet and took a moment to survey the shelves. This plant is a common genus used in Rome and other regions. You attempted to reach for the jar at the top of the shelves, but it was out of reach. You rose on tiptoe and reached as far as you could. Before Decima had a chance to get up and come over to help, another hand suddenly appeared and grasped the jar.

"I did warn you not to do anything dangerous, didn't I?” Suddenly Marcus appeared next to you.

You looked at him in surprise. When had he arrived? The girls greeted him and left the room. "Jars are now a source of danger to you, General?" You teased, took the jar from his hand and put it on the table.

Marcus smiled and approached you, wrapping his arms around you from behind. He planted a tender kiss on your hair and breathed you in, finding your ear. “I missed you.” Then he kissed your cheeks, your nose and your forehead, making you giggle. Then he turned you to him and kissed you on the lips before you could even open your mouth to answer.

“I missed you too, my handsome husband.”

He chuckled and looked at the vials, herbs on the table. "It looks like you had as busy a day as I did.”

You took a deep breath. “I guess I did."

He put a hand under your chin and turned your head towards him. His eyes were already filled with curiosity. "Something has happened. Tell me."

You put your hands on his shoulders. "Geta was here."

He raised his eyebrows. "Your Emperor half-brother Geta?”

“I know no other Geta,” you laughed. But he didn’t.

““What did he want? Why did he come?” He asked in a rather stern tone. Just hearing his name was enough to make him angry. You place your hands on either side of his face. It had an instant calming effect on him, his expression softened immediately.

“You've just arrived, my love, you must be tired. We can talk while we eat."

You picked up a jar of jasmine from one of the shelves.

"I'll put it in our room, it smells nice and has a calming effect."

Marcus put the jar back and grasped your wrist. "There's no need, my love. Your smell is much nicer, and it's the only thing that can calm me down." He led you out of the room.

Once you had entered the courtyard, you requested that Tullia bring the food and walked to your room. Before heading for the stairs, Marcus stopped when he noticed Octavius and Decima talking.

“Why is he still here?”

You chuckled. He looked at you with questioning eyes. You grabbed his muscular arm. It was your turn to tug. “Come now, leave them be.”

“I now understand why he has been distracted lately.” He grunted as he climbed the stairs with you.

“Please don't be angry with him."

“I'm not. But I need to talk to him later.” He said after entering the room.

Your food was brought into the room while you helped Marcus take off his armor. As usual, Marcus sat you on his lap while eating.

"You know, I'm not sure if I'll be able to fit on your lap when my belly gets so big," you said as he fed you a grape.

“Nonsense. There's plenty of room for both of you on my lap," he said, opening his arms. You tilted your head to the side and snuggled into his chest. "As a matter of fact, I can hold three, four, five, or even more," he added, eating his food. You lifted your head to look at his face. "What are you going to do with so many children, General?" you asked, opening your eyes wide.

“I'm going to raise my own army,” he said, laughing.

You laughed too. “Since you are so lascivious husband, it is quite possible.”

“Is it just me? You are too, my sweet wife.”

Your cheeks flushed. “You made me,” you touched his shoulder with yours.

He bent his head and kissed your shoulder. “Pleasure is all mine, my lady.”

“Well, I didn't say I was grateful.” You teased.

As soon as you said that, he looked at you differently. You locked eyes. The atmosphere in the room suddenly shifted. You were well aware of why his eyes had changed. "Then I'll take you in such a way that you'll be eternally grateful." He bent down and kissed you passionately on the lips. His kiss became more intense as you wrapped your arms around his neck. He put his hands in your hair and drank so deeply from your mouth that you almost forgot how to breathe. But you wanted so desperately that you never wanted him to stop. Even more so now, you wanted him more than you ever had, and he seemed to be quite pleased about it.  Marcus helped you lie back against his arm. He pulled the hem of your tunic up your legs and pulled you back onto his lap. As he slid the straps of the tunic down your shoulders, you could feel him getting impatient under your hips. When his lips slid to your neck, you threw your head back to gasp for air. But then you gasped again as he started to play with your already very sensitive breasts. Just the touch of his warm tongue made you feel like it was going to send you over the edge.

“Hmm your breasts are so responsive than ever my love."

You were sure your cheeks were redder than wine. “It's simply expecting for this phase,” you said breathlessly. Your impatient fingers ran through his hair. You were eager for him to take you now.

“It only adds to your beauty. You are so beautiful to be real,” he said huskily. You kissed his neck in response. He grabbed you by the hips, lifted you up and laid you on the bed. Soon he was on top of you. You wrapped your arms around his waist and pulled him to you. Or rather, you tried. He chuckled. “You are very impatient for someone who is not grateful, princess?”

You sighed. “I apologise, I shouldn't have said that. I'm so grateful, please, Marcus.” You squirmed desperately. It was one of your lustful husband's favorite moments. “Please what, my love?” He put his knee between your legs as slowly as he could.

"I want you," you purred.

His lips were on your earlobe, and the feel of his hot breath on your neck made you shudder.

"You want me where?" He teased. His fingers caressed your nipples, his glorious length brushing against your entrance which driving you mad.

"I want you inside me, please," you whimpered.

He smiled wide, like he won a victory. “I shall fulfill my princess’ desire.” And there he was, right where you wanted him most. You felt like you were going to explode with happiness and break into little pieces. You felt proud of yourself for making progress and getting to this point. Now you both knew each other's bodies and desires well. It was a progress you didn't expect from yourself, and it wasn't difficult at all. Everything was easier with him. Desiring him, kissing him, feeling his skin under your fingers – it was like a need for life. You needed him. You needed him inside you, on your skin, in the air you breathed, everywhere. With him, everything was beautiful and complete. Without him, everything was missing and lost. With him, you felt alive.

"I'm afraid I may be a little late tonight,” Marcus said as you tied the strings on his armbands. ”You'll keep your promise, won't you?”

Oh yes, your promise to him. After a lengthy discussion, he agreed to your proposal of preparing the herbal mixture for Caracalla, but he would prefer you to remain at the villa for the time being.

“I've positioned one of my men near Palatine Hill. One of the soldiers waiting outside will deliver it to him. So there's no need for you to go there," he said in a commanding tone.

You nodded. “I shall do whatever my husband says.”

A broad smile spread across his face. He wrapped his arms around you. “Say it again.”

You giggled. “I'll do whatever my husband says.”

“My ears have been blessed.” He pulled you to him and kissed you on the lips. He then sighed breaking the kiss. “I'm afraid I must take my leave now.”

“I know you'll come back to me eventually, so it will be easier to await for your arrival.”

He took your face in his hands. "You will wait my return, then, my lady?"

Of course you will, why did he ask such a question?

“I have waited a long time for you, Aurelia,” he said in his velvet voice. His expression was severe, the brown of his eyes warm, intense. “How could I not come back to you?” He kissed you on the temple. He grabbed a few strands of your hair, burried his nose in them inhaling your scent. You rose on tiptoes and kissed him with all the warmth of a woman in love. And he returned your kiss with all the joy and happiness of a man in love. If only Cato hadn't knocked on the door at that moment, you might have stayed there till night.

Once Marcus had left, you went downstairs to your little clinic-like room to make the herbal mixture. With the help of the girls, you managed to do it in less time than you expected. You did as Marcus told you and handed a vial of the mixture to one of the soldiers who were positioned outside the villa. He mounted his horse and headed to Palatine Hill.

As you sat with the girls until the evening, you found yourself feeling that strange sense of unease you had yesterday. It was just like that dream you had a few weeks ago. No matter how hard you tried to ignore it, you couldn't. And it didn't seem to go away until Marcus came back.

It was just after midnight and you were lying in bed playing with your wedding ring. Mau was sleeping peacefully next to you. But unlike him, you were far away, feeling peaceful. You couldn't sleep without seeing him return to you. Soon, however, you heard some horses neighing and murmuring, and your body filled with excitement. You quickly got out of bed. You wrapped your shawl around yourself and left the room, heading for the stairs. But you were halfway up the stairs when you saw the face of a man you didn't know. If you hadn't been holding on to the railing, you would have stumbled. One of the slaves stepped in front of the man, but he pushed him hard. From his clothes, it was clear he was one of the imperial guards. They usually kept their galea on, but not this man. At his command, five or six more soldiers entered the courtyard and all of them stood at attention. They were all dressed like imperial guards. You were wide-eyed, trying to understand what is happening, Decima ran up to you and held your hands nervously. Everyone in the villa woke up to the sounds and rushed to your side.

“You must be Princess Aurelia,” the man said, nodding then smiling weirdly at you. His eyes lingered too long on your body. You felt uncomfortable with the way he looked at you. You pulled your shawl tighter around your body. "Who do you think you are? I will not tolerate you entering my house at this time of night like a raider. I want to know who you are! Speak!"

The man laughed arrogantly. "My name is Flavius, my lady. You do not know me, but your husband does." He took a few steps towards you. "However, even if it's a very tempting idea, I am not here because of Acacius. As for your question, I am here by the command of your brother, the Emperor Caracalla. I shall take you to him."

You were both confused and afraid. "At this time of night? What is so urgent?"

"Oh, true. I forgot to mention the charges against you, forgive me." He smirked, gesturing to one of his men.

The man unfolded the scroll paper to read it aloud. "Princess Aurelia, you are under arrest by the command of the emperor. Your charges are; attempting poisoning of the Emperor himself, conspiracy behind his back, and aiding and abetting the exiled empress."

You swallowed, your heart pounding fast. It seemed likely that the ointment you had sent to Geta must have fallen into Caracalla's hands somehow. "I don't accept these charges! There must be a misunderstanding." you said.

"It doesn't really matter, my lady, I have been instructed to take you to Palatine Hill. And I will." The man came close enough to reach for your arm, but you stepped back.

"Lady Aurelia is the wife of General Acacius and also a princess. When the general returns home, they will go together to the emperor. Perhaps it would be inadvisable to take her by force, sir Flavius?” Tullia said firmly.

They knew each other? You wondered who he was.

”I remember you now. You stood up to me like this back then too. You may have aged but you're still stupid. Get out of my way at once!” Flavius barked.

Wiht Tullia's lead, the slaves and girls moving in front of you as if shielding you. The man sighed and drew his sword.

“No!” you cried.

“The Emperor's orders are final! Get out of my way or I will slay you all with my sword!”

“Do as he says!” You warned them, your voice trembling with fear. They regarded you with an uncertain expression.You held Tullia's hands. "Please, I don't want you to get hurt. I will be fine, I promise."

Then they bowed their heads and, with visible reluctance, withdrewing involuntarily.

You looked at him. “I should dress properly, first,” you said and headed for the room.

“I'm waiting, princess!” He said arrogantly.

How dare he talks to a princess like that? As soon as you walked in the room, immediately grabbed your scabbard and tied it around your ankle. You had to be prepared for anything. You put your hands on your belly, hoping everything would be fine. You put on your stola, look around the room one last time, opened the door and went out. Walked down the stairs, looking at the slaves who looked at you with concern. They were your friends, your family. You smiled at them reassuringly. The man named Flavius held out his hand to you. "My lady.”

You stepped towards outside, choosing to ignore him. Suddenly, you noticed Marcus' soldiers, who were brought to their knees with swords held at their throats by guards. "Put your swords away!" you barked them. But they looked at their commander. Flavius nodded. The men drew back their swords and sheathed them.

"General Acacius has entrusted us with the Lady Aurelia," one of the soldiers said. "We must accompany her.”

Flavius turned to him. "So that's what your General told you, eh? What if I don't let you then?"

The soldier looked at him sharply and drew his sword halfway, the sharp sound of the blade making you tense. "Then we'll have to stop you."

"No, please," you interrupted. You stopped the soldiers by raising your hands.

"My lady, please step aside. The general's orders are certain, and if we die for him, it would be an honour to do so."

Flavius laughed cruelly. “We must give him what he wants then!” He ordered to his soldiers and they all drew their swords once more. You were worried because they were outnumbered. Despite all of your objections, they began to fight. Flavius took hold of your arm and led you towards the carriage.

“Get your hands off me!” You struggled, but he was so strong. "Don't you hear me? I am your princess! You can't touch me!" You shouted at the top of your lungs but it was in vain. He made sure you were seated in the carriage and turned round. After his men killed Marcus' soldiers they mounted their horses at his command. Soon the carriage moved to take you to Palatine Hill. You couldn't stop your tears and sobs as you looked at the soldiers lying lifeless on the ground.

Marcus, where are you? you murmured as you gazed out the window, surveying the dark and gloomy streets.

A place just outside the city…

Marcus and Octavius are waiting in one of the dark streets, which is meant to be a secret meeting place. They're both wearing black cloaks. He had stationed a few of his men at key points in the city to be ready for any move Macrinus might make, and every now and then they hold a small, secret meeting in this gathering place. Secrecy was very important. It had to be late at night because it was an important matter that was only between them. But tonight there was something odd. None of his men showed up. They should have been here by now. Octavius looked down the road but didn't see anyone. They decided to wait a bit more, soon they heard footsteps coming closer. It was one of Marcus's men.

“General! Sir!” The man was out of breath. “Guards. Macrinus.”

Marcus touched his shoulder. “Easy. Breathe.” He told him. “Speak clearly. Why are you on your own?"

"Speak, Aris, what has happened?" Octavius growled.

"The imperial guards arrested all of our men and took them to Palatine Hill."

"On what grounds? What did they say?"

"Have you seen Macrinus there?" Marcus asked.

He shook his head. Suddenly there was the sound of  number of horses approaching towards them and they all tensed up.

"You were followed, you fool!" Octavius hissed.

Guards quickly surrounded and circled around them. One of them looked at Marcus. It was Flavius. “Acacius, It's been too long. Strange night, isn't it?” He jumped down from his horse. Marcus looked at him, astonished.

“Flavius?” He looked him up and down. He recognised his rank by his attire. “So you've been appointed commander of the guards? I thought you were up north.”

So he was the Macrinus' shadow man. He knew exactly what he was doing, Marcus thought.

“I returned a while ago,” he took a step closer to him. “Since I have unfinished business here. With you.” His voice sharpened.

Marcus remained still.

“You killed my brother, remember? You took him from me. And for what? For screwing your wife when you're in the south?”

Marcus clenched his fists. His body was filled with rage. He was dangerously on the edge.

"I've been looking forward to this moment for quite some time, Acacius. I have been waiting for the right moment to take what you have from you when you feel happy.”

Marcus grasped hilt of his sword. Octavius and Aris were ready, waiting for his command.

"So Macrinus made you his commander? Is this how you plan to get revenge on me?"

"He's a very clever man, I'll give him that. And he's determined to finish you, though not as determined as I am." He grinned.

"Right, so how do we do it? One on one? You and I?" Marcus drew his sword to half-length.

Flavius laughed. "You've already lost, Acacius, why should I bother?" He gestured for his man to read the emperor's order. The man unfolded the roll of paper. "General Marcus Acacius! You are under arrest by order of Emperor Caracalla! Your charges are; placing men in front of the emperor's house to spy on him, to command the armies for your own benefit, attempting to murder a member of the senate, abusing the title of general, going behind the emperor's back.”

"Right," said Flavius, coming over to him. He held his gaze. “The Emperor wants to see you. He'll be the one to decide your fate.” He approached him. “Just as he will decide your wife's fate.” He grinned with his teeth.

Marcus grabbed his throat with both hands. “What did you just say?”

The guards half-drew their swords and took up attack positions. Octavius and Aris gripped the hilt of their swords in response.

"Speak, or I'll rip your neck off!" he roared, his fingers gripping his throat tighter. Flavius seemed amused.

"Your wife, Aurelia, is a beautiful woman. I took her from the villa to Palatine Hill. I told you it was a strange night.”

Marcus punched him in the face and kicked him in the stomach, mad him fell to the ground. He then quickly drew his sword. In a flash he leapt on him and held his sharp sword to his neck. “If you say her name again, I'll cut your tongue off!” He barked. “Why did you take her there? Speak, damn you!” He was boiling with anger.

Flavius, however seemed calm. “Don’t be a fool, Acacius, if you kill me now, you'll get nothing. I'm only doing my duty.”

Unfortunately it was true, he could kill him and all the guards one by one, but that would only result in a higher charge being brought against him. Furthermore, Marcus's primary concern was you. He had to make sure you were alright, which meant he had to go to Palatine Hill with them.

Flavius ignored sharp sword pressing against his throat, laughing cruelly at him. “Revenge is a son of a whore, isn't it?”

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[autumnapricot]

i know you won’t update next chapter this week but i was wondering if you had written any drafts that we could take a sneak peek 🥺🥺🥺 get well soon by the way!!! love your work so much!!

i have 7k written, actually. which is all, uhm, *scratches head* pre-rut angst? heh.

but yeah, sure 🎃🧡

Max is still sat at the edge of the bed, watching Charles with concern and he just won’t go, and Charles bites his lip but pitiful little growls escape him anyway while he tries to not grind his hips into the bed but there’s Max‘s scent on every single piece of the nest around him, and Max is right there, the source of the wonderful scent that is usually heaven to Charles, but right now it might as well be hell at the same time because he wants it, he wants Max, but he can‘t have him. He shouldn‘t have him. He can‘t allow himself to have Max. He‘s already hanging on to the last threads of sane lucidness, the rational thoughts dwindling fast because before he could at least control himself but that control is slipping through the cracks of his sweaty fingers, palms digging into the bedsheets. Now he can‘t even control his hips anymore, trying to get any sort of relief on his hard, aching cock by grinding against the mattress and he groans, making himself turn onto his back so he can‘t do that because the more he gives into it, the less he can keep composure. If he even has any left.

„Charles,“ Max sighs for the umpteenth time, and even just his voice makes Charles twitch in his pants and want to reach out, tug the Omega closer, on top of him, he wants to bury his nose in that scentgland so hard he can taste his scent and he wants to bury himself inside of him, he wants, and this want is like a growling beast thrown into a cage but the door isn‘t locked, it‘s all open, he could just waltz right out.

„Please. The only person you‘re hurting and torturing here is yourself, Charles.“

The gulp Charles swallows down hurts in his throat as if it gets caught in the dry ridges of it. He presses his eyes close and determinedly doesn‘t look at Max. To feel his presence is enough to make his last resolve fray at the edges like a poorly sewn shirt.

„Max,“ he presses out through shut teeth, „Just go.“

There‘s movement by the end of the bed but Max‘s weight doesn‘t lift off the mattress.

„No.“ Max says, because he is fucking terrible like that and never listens and his lack of regards for his own personal safety is horrifying. „Charles. I won‘t leave you like this. Come on. If you‘re not—at least use the toys or something. You can‘t spend your rut like this, stop denying yourself now. This is just painful.“

„Max.“

„No, stop being an idiot. I will not watch you torture yourself like this.“

Charles makes a wounded noise at that, planting his feet onto the mattress to feel somehow grounded, although he‘s not. He‘s not grounded to reality by anything other than Max’s voice, his scent, his presence, and it shouldn‘t. It keeps him grounded and yet lifts him afloat all the same.

He can hold out like this, he tells himself.

Three days of some discomfort, he can take that. He can power through that. The toys won‘t help him with anything other than losing his comprehension and falling deeper into rut, only to realize that it doesn‘t bring him much pleasure, barely even release, and he doesn‘t—he doesn‘t want to even just imagine himself so deep into his rut that his body figures that the toys are not enough and there is something much better, someone much better right in this house, and he can‘t. He can‘t even imagine himself seeking out Max, all out of control, attacking him even. It sends a shiver down Charles‘ back of the unpleasant kind, makes him feel nauseous.

When suddenly, a warm, steady weight crawls on top of him and settles to sit on his hips, he startles, eyes flying open. His body immediately reacts, hips slightly bucking up and he barely even restrains his hands from shooting out—instead, he forces his hands up above his head to cling onto the headboard so he won‘t reach out and touch Max.

„Max,“ he growls panickedly, „Get off.“

„No.“ Max simply counters again, so fucking stubborn.

[falafelluva]

Can you make a fic where reader gets accused of cheating and kenan believes them so he breaks up with reader. But later find out that it was all a lie, end with fluff please!!🤍🤍

; 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐓𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐃 - 𝘬.𝘺𝘪𝘭𝘥𝘪𝘻 ✮

summary: the req basically 😛

warnings: cheating even tho it’s not cheating? Kenan being rude and cocky? arguing, yelling etc. a man being weird towards women? betrayal

author’s note: I hope that this is what u meant anon, or if anything- close to what u meant! 🫡🫶🏽it’s 2:27 am rn, not proofread because I’m going to sleep🥰🙏😂😢

The afternoon sun poured through the window as you sat on the couch, scrolling through your phone. You felt content, waiting for Kenan to get home from practice, imagining how you’d surprise him with his favorite dinner.

Things had been good between you two, even with his busy football schedule. You knew how much he was putting into his career, and you were proud of him every step of the way.

Just as you set your phone down, you heard the front door slam open. The noise startled you, and you quickly got up to greet him. But the smile faded from your face when you saw the look on his face—Kenan stood in the doorway, his expression cold and furious, fists clenched at his sides.

“Kenan?” you asked, feeling a mix of confusion and dread. “What’s wrong?”

“Don’t play dumb!” he exploded, his voice booming through the apartment. “You think I don’t know what’s been going on?”

“What the hell… Why are you yelling?” you mumbled, your heart racing. The anger radiating off him was palpable, and you could barely keep up with the storm brewing in his eyes.

He took a step closer, his nostrils flaring. “I’ve seen the messages, the screenshots! You’ve been sneaking around behind my back! Do you know how that makes me feel?”

“Kenan, wha—” you tried to interject, but he wasn’t having it.

“I don’t want to hear your excuses!” he shouted, his voice echoing off the walls.

“You think you can just do whatever you want without consequences? You’re nothing to me, i swear. I hope you know that I can hurt you ten times worse if I wanted to.” His words stung, and you flinched at the intensity of his anger.

“Is this really how you want to handle this?” you asked, tears threatening to spill over. “I would never cheat on you! You have to believe me!”

“Believe you?” he scoffed, his expression twisted in rage.

“Why should I believe a word you say? You think I’m stupid? Do you know who I am?” His eyes were wild, and you could see the hurt mingling with his anger, creating a storm that threatened to engulf you both.

As you tried to find the right words, he took another step back, shaking his head in disbelief.

“You’re unbelievable. I’m not doing this. We’re done.” He slammed the door behind him as he stormed out, leaving you standing alone in the empty apartment, your heart shattered into pieces.

The silence that followed was deafening, and you sank to the floor, feeling utterly lost.

How had it come to this?

You knew there were people who envied your relationship, but this felt too cruel, too calculated.

;;

Days passed, and life felt hollow. You barely ate, barely slept, replaying that moment over and over. Every time you tried reaching out, Kenan ignored your calls, leaving your messages unread. It felt like a nightmare you couldn’t wake up from.

Meanwhile, Kenan was hurting too. He threw himself into training, using the physical strain to block out the pain in his heart. But as the days went on, doubts began to creep in.

He couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off, that maybe he had been too quick to believe everything without giving you a chance to explain.

Every time he stepped onto the field, he felt the weight of your absence. His teammates noticed his distraction, throwing concerned glances his way. “Hey, man, you alright?” one of them asked during practice. Kenan merely shrugged, unable to voice the turmoil within.

Then one evening, as he scrolled through his messages, he received another DM from an account with no profile picture. It was the same person who had sent him the so-called “proof.” But this time, the tone of the message was gloating.

“Told you bro, don’t show these women no mercy😂”

Kenan’s heart raced as he read the words. His mind began to piece everything together.

The messages, the photos—they were all part of a lie, a deliberate attempt to sabotage your relationship. Realization dawned on him, followed by a wave of regret so heavy it left him breathless. He had believed a stranger over you.

Without wasting another second, Kenan rushed to his car and drove to your apartment, his hands shaking on the steering wheel. When he arrived, he hesitated at the door, fear and guilt gnawing at him.

He knocked softly, waiting, hoping you’d open the door— When you finally opened it, the sight of him brought a surge of emotions: relief, anger, love, and pain all mixed together.

He looked tired, his eyes filled with remorse as he stepped inside.

“Can we talk?” he asked, his voice barely audible.

You crossed your arms, holding onto the last bit of your strength. “What is there to talk about? You didn’t trust me.”

Kenan took a deep breath, running a hand through his hair. “You’re right. I messed up. I let other people’s lies get into my head, and I didn’t give you a chance to explain. I’m an idiot.”

You looked at him, the hurt evident in your eyes. “I loved you, Kenan. I still do. But you made me feel like I was nothing to you, like you believed a stranger over me.”

He closed the distance between you, his expression desperate. “I was wrong. I let my insecurities get the best of me, and I hurt the person I love most.” He reached for your hand, his voice cracking.

“Please, give me another chance. I’ll spend every day making it up to you.”

A tear slipped down your cheek as you searched his face, seeing the sincerity in his eyes. You wanted to stay angry, to make him feel the pain he’d caused you. But the truth was, you still loved him, despite everything.

After a long pause, you sighed, your voice soft. “I don’t know if things can go back to how they were, Kenan. But maybe… we can try.”

Relief flooded his face, and he pulled you into a hug, holding you as if you were the most precious thing in his world. “Thank you. I’ll prove to you that I won’t let anything come between us again.”

;;

That night, he stayed with you, talking for hours, rebuilding the trust that had been broken. He promised to listen, to trust, and to be there for you, no matter what anyone else tried to say.

As he held you close, he recounted all the moments that made your relationship special—the late-night talks, the quiet walks, the laughter you shared. Each memory was a reminder of what he almost lost.

“Listen,” he said, his voice low and earnest, “I know I hurt you, and I’m going to do everything I can to make this right. I should have trusted you. I should have known you better than that.”

You nodded, feeling a warmth spread through you at his words. “I just want us to be honest with each other. No matter what happens, I need to know you’ll talk to me.”

“Absolutely,” he promised. “I’ll always talk to you. I’ll never let anyone come between us again.”

As you lay in his arms, the weight of the past few days began to lift, replaced by the hope of a new beginning. Love had been tested, but it hadn’t broken.

The following weeks were filled with healing and laughter as Kenan made a concerted effort to prove his love for you. He organized little surprises—like picnics in the park and movie nights at home—and slowly, the cracks in your relationship began to mend. The trust was slowly rebuilt with every conversation, every shared moment, until it felt like the betrayal had never happened.

[k9wa]

do u guys think sunday’s wings puff up when he gets scared

[fisheito]

Super important question. Do you think Yakumo is ticklish?

wait hold on i have to look this up

[shewhoeatssand]

I want to befriend Kaneki and meet with him and email him forever

[pixelatedquarter]

Now that THEY brought it up first, are we like 100% sure Patrick's not just gonna play the intro to welcome to the black parade as another of his covers? Because sure we're past the era of mcr is an idea that's never coming back together and people having buried their emo pasts, but I'm not entirely sure people won't have a gut response to getting g noted live by fall out boy

[coquelicoq]

me: how about...natori contracting some kind of youkai illness & matoba finding out about it & showing up to his set & natori dragging him off to his trailer bc it would be bad for his sparkly reputation to make the angry faces he feels coming on in front of his coworkers & matoba offering to help but in that smarmy condescending way that raises natori's hackles so he refuses but unfortunately he doesn't know how to cure it so matoba just keeps showing up every day & natori keeps carting him off to the trailer every time & being suuuuper cagey when people ask him who his visitor is & what if his coworkers get the wrong idea & matoba is fully aware of this & what if one day in the trailer natori reluctantly agrees to let matoba help him & matoba's like okay fine off with your shirt i gotta paint this spell circle on your bare chest & what if he's in the middle of doing that when they hear somebody opening the door to the trailer & obviously they don't want anyone to know what they're actually doing in there bc youkai-exorcist confidentiality so matoba's like no worries i got this & he KISSES NATORI omg classic kiss-as-misdirection trope & the person at the door is like whoops my b carry on gentlemen & after they've left natori is like wtf matoba????? & matoba's like well it's what they all thought we were doing anyway & your mouth was right there & it allowed me to cover the writing on your chest with my body & also you kiss people for a living so i figured it wouldn't be too complex for you & your part-time exorcist training to handle & natori recovers admirably quickly & is like WELL for your information that was a TERRIBLE kiss & no one is gonna buy that i professional makeout artist natori shuuichi would be swapping saliva with somebody on the reg without any of my considerable skill rubbing off on them & matoba's like so what do you propose we do about it & natori's like obviously i have to teach you how to kiss in case they come back -

the bedtime story fairy who thought this was gonna be an easy assignment: please just go to sleep im begging u have mercy ur brain cells are dying