#this is my first time drawing his hair down

[rafecameroninterlude]

[🍩] soft!dom!rafe x breeding kink x corruption kink😜😜 with hella dirty talk😫

warnings: bambi!reader, innocent!reader, established relationship, making out, heavy petting, pussy slapping, oral (f. receiving), rafe is messyyyyy lol, unprotected sex, rough sex, crying, blood (very little, it’s from a bite lol), breeding, multiple orgasms, rafe slaps you just once, corruption kink, lots of dirty talk, first time, loss of virginity, fingering, finger sucking, hair pulling, slapping, soft aftercare, brief mentions of having kids

a/n: i think i got really carried away with this but breeding kink with bambi was something i wanted to write but was unsure of how to start it lol so thank you so much for this request 🤍

rafe was in heaven right now and he wasn’t even inside of you yet. he kissed you gently, the feeling of your fingers stroking his face while he caged you between his arms was everything he didn’t know he needed. “you show up in this pretty little dress of yours, did you have this planned?” you gasped when you felt his hand snake under the soft material of your dress, his touch skimming over the waistband of your underwear. “no. ‘just wanted to look pretty for you..” you whispered, those doe eyes of yours beaming up at the man on top of you. “you do. you look perfect.” rafe sighed.

slipping his tongue in your mouth, your eyebrows drew together as you couldn’t help but move your hips against the thigh he had between your legs. rafe looked down, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth as he watched you rut against him. “does that feel good?” he hiked your dress up, wanting a better view of your clothed cunt. you hummed, your skin flushing as rafe concentrated on the way you moved underneath him. hands roaming your body, there wasn’t an inch of you that went untouched. slipping your dress off, rafe marveled at the sight of your bare chest.

despite you two being together for a while, the furthest you two had ever gotten was making out and a little groping here and there, but that was it. rafe had no problem waiting until you were ready to go there. you shivered, the chilly air of rafe’s room making your nipples harden right before his eyes. “fuck, bambi..” he cupped one of your tits, a whimper leaving your lips when he leaned down and took the other in his mouth. “are you okay if i do this?” you glanced down at his hand moving your underwear to the side. meeting his eyes, you nodded. “please.”

rafe watched your face morph into one of full blown pleasure when he gathered the wetness at your entrance and glided the tips of his fingers to your clit. “you’re soaked.” he laughed, making you turn your head away from him out of shyness. grabbing your chin, rafe squeezed your cheeks together and forced you to look at him as his fingers started working your sensitive bundle of nerves. you were instantly trying to draw away from his digits, the motions being far too much for you at once. “shhh, don’t run from it,” he licked a stripe up the column of your throat, “let me watch you.” he smiled teasingly.

you smiled back, only for it to be wiped from your face when he slapped your folds, the sensation making you jolt. despite it stinging for a quick second, you started chasing his hand for more. “you want another one?” he slapped you again, this time making your thighs shake, “my little whore likes that, huh?” you were surprised at the name calling, but even more suprised when you found out you liked it. “talk to me, baby. tell me what you want..” his lips ghosted over yours. rafe had gotten you so wet, you could hear your slick with each stroke of his fingers. “wanna go all the way with you, ray..”

rafe swore he could hear the angels singing. he’s been waiting, anticipating for this day to come. “yeah?” he kissed you, slotting himself between your thighs before pulling away from your cunt. “yes. ‘want you so bad!” you whined, wrapping your legs around his waist. you watched him pop his fingers in his mouth, sucking the remnants of you off of his digits. oh, god. pulling him close, you kissed him deeply, tasting yourself on his tongue. taking your underwears off in one swift movement, you palmed rafe in his shorts, your eyes widening when you felt how large he was in your hand.

“you’ll be fine, baby. i’m gonna take such good care of you..” in rafe’s mind, you had already did this before, but the look on your face was starting to make him think otherwise. his suspicions were confirmed when you looked up at him with watery eyes. “is it going to hurt?” you whimpered, his erection resting heavily on your tummy. rafe studied you for a moment. “you’ve never had sex before?” you shook your head, biting your lip nervously. rafe felt so wrong for being so turned on at the revelation. “have you ever touched yourself?” rafe was on the brink of losing his mind. “no..”

that was it. this man was going to ruin you. “i’m sorry, it’s embarrassing.” you pouted, looking away from him. embarrassing? rafe felt like he could cum right then and there. “that’s not embarrassing at all, baby.” he reassured you, moving away any stray hairs you might’ve had in your face. “you know what that means? that means i get to turn you into my own personal little slut.” his words made butterflies flutter in your stomach. rafe unbuckled his belt, his shorts and boxers now long forgotten. despite being horny out of his mind, rafe still checked to make sure you were okay.

“are you sure about this, bambi?” you watched as he snaked down your body, hooking your thighs to his shoulders. a shaky breath left your lips, your hands intertwining with his as he pressed kisses to your flesh. “yes, i want you-” you were cut off by rafe’s tongue delving into your sweetness. your back arched off of his mattress, your thighs threatening to snap around his head. the only word you could use to describe the noises in rafe’s room was lewd. the slurping, grunting, moaning, it was all hitting you at once that this was actually happening.

rafe was so hard already, his own fist wrapped around his cock as he sloppily lapped at your soaked pussy. he couldn’t get enough. instinctively, you couldn’t help your hips from grinding against his face, your boyfriend doing everything to make you tremble and shake in pure bliss. you freed one of your hands from his grip and trailed it up your chest, squeezing your tit while rafe groaned at the sight. “i haven’t even put any fingers in you, baby, you’re going to be a mess by the time i actually fuck you.” you cried out when he sucked your clit, his middle finger prodding at your entrance.

gasping at the intrusion, rafe shushed you as you whimpered at the unfamiliar stretch. “how are we doing, sweetheart?” he looked up at you, cursing under his breath. you were so fucking tight, he could only imagine how you’d feel wrapped around his cock. “..hurts a little.” you took a breath, moaning when he curled his digit. “it’ll feel good soon, i promise baby. ‘gonna make you cum so fucking much.” he continued working on your clit, the added stimulation making your eyes screw shut. rafe waited until you were gasping his name before entering a second finger.

you practically screamed, your hands shooting down to dig your nails into his skin. “rafe, i think i’m!-” you froze, your eyes rolling back as you felt a wave of euphoria wash over you. it was unlike anything you had ever felt before. suddenly you couldn’t breathe, your mouth falling open in a silent moan before your legs started to shake. rafe knew you were cumming and it only made him go rougher on you, wanting your first orgasm to be unforgettable. inserting a third finger, your eyes shot open as you thrashed against his sheets, your body trying to retract from him.

“r-rafe, s’too much! i can’t!” your words came out choppy with each breath you tried to take, your boyfriend eventually bringing you down from your high. you had tears rolling down your cheeks, your entire body feeling like jelly as rafe came up from between your thighs. the lower half of his face, and even the tip of his nose, was glistening with your slick. rafe had given you a taste of something you soon felt like you couldn’t get enough of. rafe grabbed a handful of your hair, forcing you to look down where he lined his cock up with your entrance.

you met each other’s eyes, releasing a breath you didn’t know you were holding, before he slammed into you, both of you having two different reactions. while rafe doubled over, absolutely enthralled by how tight you were, you were crying, your nails leaving crescents in rafe’s side. you were only able to take half of his length, but rafe was determined to give you the whole thing by the time he was done. while the feeling wasn’t exactly painful, you just felt so full. rafe took your lips in a searing kiss, pulling out before thrusting into you again. “you feel so fucking good, you know that?” he praised you.

rafe started thrusting into you until any sense of discomfort melted away. “oh my god, look at you taking me so fucking well..” rafe whispered against your skin, littering your neck and chest with kisses. wrapping your arms around his neck, you didn’t hold back from moaning underneath him. “rafe go faster, please!” your boyfriend smiled, pulling away momentarily to see that dark look in your eyes. “whatever you want, baby.” you cried out when his hips slammed into your own, the tip of his cock kissing your cervix. “oh, rafe..” you shuddered, now that you were filled to the brim.

“you’re so perfect, you want this dick everyday?” you nodded frantically, not seeing how you could go without it now. “yeah? i bet you do..” he laughed, “‘been wanting to corrupt you since i got you, baby. your sweet little innocent eyes looking up at me when i would rub you through your panties, you have no idea how bad i wanted to get you naked and fuck you until you were crying for me to stop.” he slapped your cheek, a gasp leaving your lips at the action. “look at you now, you’re gonna be begging for this all the time.. ‘might just fuck a baby into you, huh?” you whimpered at his words.

“i want that.” you panted, his pubic bone slamming down on your clit with each thrust. “yeah? you want me to fill you up? get you all pretty and pregnant?” god, what was happening to you? “yes, ray! i want it so bad, ‘want your babies!” now it was rafe’s turn to get hysterical, the idea of you growing round with his seed turned him on beyond belief. “fuck!” he grunted, “oh, i wanna see that so bad, ‘want you walking around tanneyhill with your tummy full. everyone will know what we did.. what you let me do to you.” rafe didn’t care if it was the heat of the moment making you two talk like this, he just knew that you were it for him.

“how about i breed you right now, bambi? you want that?” he hoped you’d say yes, considering he wasn’t going to last very long. when he felt you wrap your legs around his waist, locking him in, he nearly lost it by how turned on he was that you wanted the same thing. “please give it to me!” you cried, your boyfriend pulling you into his chest where he embraced you, making you unable to move away from him. you buried your face in his neck, biting down on his flesh as his hips stuttered, shooting hot, thick ropes of cum inside of you. you relished in the feeling, your walls milking him for all that he had.

“son of a- fuck! you’re squeezing me so fucking hard.” he shivered, the feeling of you gripping him from the base was undeniably the best thing he’s ever felt. reaching down, rafe rubbed hard circles on your clit until you came around him, only making you spasm even more. after you had raked your nails down his torso, and drew blood from biting him so hard, rafe had pulled out of you with a hiss, not a single drop of cum dribbling out. you had taken it all. “holy shit, are you okay, babe?” you looked spent. droopy eyes, swollen lips, tear stained cheeks, rafe thought you couldn’t get any more prettier than this.

you spotted the bite mark on his neck. “ray, you’re bleeding..” you attempted to sit up but failed pathetically when your arms gave out from under you. “s’okay.. stay right here, i’ll be right back.” you were dazed, your vision hazy as rafe went to grab a cold towel. when he came back, the blood from the curve of his neck was gone and he wrapped you in his sheets. dabbing the towel on your forhead, you suppressed a giggle at his ministrations. “i’m okay, rafe.” you pecked his cheek, grabbing his arm so he could spoon you. pressing a kiss to your temple, he massaged soothing circles into your side.

“you were so good for me, baby..” he whispered, his words making your heart flutter in your chest. “you promise i wasn’t some amateur?” rafe shushed you, a laugh tumbling from his mouth. “no way, you were great. i don’t know how we’re gonna get through a day without ravaging each other.” you hummed, already daydreaming about the next time. “did you mean what you said earlier? about wanting a baby?” rafe turned you around so you were face to face. you trailed a finger down his jaw. “well, i’ve always wanted kids..” you smiled. “with me though?” rafe’s eyes softened when you nodded.

“with only you..”

[librababe99]

In the Shadows of Gotham

cw: MDNI, 18+ ONLY, smut, Bruce Wayne x Girlfriend!Reader, fingering, p in v,  oral (f! receiving), overstimulation, body worship word count: 3.1K Summary: Bruce Wayne, the man who lives in the shadows of Gotham, the protector and savior of the city, has only one true weakness—you. After a long night of crime-fighting, Bruce returns home to indulge in your presence.

A/N: This is my first time writing for Bruce and I've had a few ideas swirling around for some time...I was ready to get something out! Happy reading <3

(Main masterlist) | (DC Masterlist) | (Marvel Masterlist)

The weight of Gotham’s night clung to the man you loved. Shadows danced through the large windows of Wayne Manor, wrapping their cold tendrils around the walls of the lavish bedroom where you lay waiting. The clock on the bedside table ticked past 3 AM, a constant reminder that Bruce was still out there, somewhere in the darkness, risking his life for the city that never slept.

You had grown used to the late nights, the endless hours of waiting, but tonight felt different. There was a heaviness in the air, thick with anticipation. You had caught glimpses of it over the last few days—how the tension seemed to coil around Bruce’s muscles like a bowstring, how his eyes darkened with an unspoken need whenever they settled on you. You could feel it building, the way you felt the storm brewing over Gotham before it broke the sky open.

The low, familiar sound of the Batmobile’s engine pulling into the hidden cave beneath the manor jolted you out of your thoughts. Bruce was home.

The idea made your heart race with a blend of excitement and nervousness. He had been so distant lately, his focus entirely on Gotham’s latest wave of crime. But tonight, as you lay in bed, waiting for him, you couldn’t shake the feeling that something was about to change.

The door creaked open, and there he was, standing tall in the shadows of the room. Bruce Wayne. The man, the myth, the enigma wrapped in darkness. He shed the Bat like an old skin, letting it fall away as he stepped toward you. His broad shoulders were still encased in the black of his suit, but his cowl was off, revealing the intense blue of his eyes that locked onto you.

"You're awake," he said, his voice low and rough from the night's exertions.

"I couldn't sleep." Your voice was soft, inviting.

Bruce stood at the edge of the bed, towering over you. His gaze roamed over your form, lingering on the way your body was partially hidden beneath the sheets, but exposed enough to draw his attention. You felt the burn of his eyes on you like a physical touch, and heat bloomed in your core.

"You should rest," he murmured, though his voice was threaded with something darker, something deeper.

"I was waiting for you," you replied, sitting up slightly, the sheet slipping further down your chest, revealing the curve of your breasts.

His eyes darkened further, and a low growl of approval rumbled in his chest. "You shouldn't have to wait."

"But I want to," you whispered, your voice a breathy invitation. "I always wait for you, Bruce."

His control snapped like a taut wire. In a heartbeat, he was crawling onto the bed, moving with a predator's grace. He loomed over you, one hand coming up to cradle your face with surprising gentleness, while the other slid beneath the sheets, brushing over the softness of your skin.

"You have no idea what you do to me," he rasped, his lips inches from yours. "How hard it is to come back here night after night and not just...devour you."

"Then don't hold back," you breathed, leaning into his touch. "I want you, Bruce. All of you."

His lips crashed against yours in a kiss that stole the breath from your lungs. It was desperate, needy, filled with all the pent-up emotion he'd kept locked away behind the mask he wore for Gotham. His tongue slid against yours, and you moaned into his mouth, your fingers tangling in his thick, dark hair.

The hand that had been caressing your face moved down to grip your hip, pulling you flush against him. You could feel the hard length of him pressing against your thigh, and it sent a wave of heat pooling between your legs.

But Bruce didn’t move to undress you right away. Instead, he pulled back, staring down at you with an intensity that made your heart skip a beat.

"I need to touch you," he said, his voice rough with desire. "All of you. I need to remind myself that you're here. That you're real."

You nodded, your breath catching in your throat as he slowly peeled the sheet away from your body, exposing your naked form to his hungry gaze. His eyes roamed over every inch of you, as if he was memorizing the way you looked, committing it to memory in case he never got another chance.

"You're so beautiful," he whispered, his voice filled with awe.

You flushed under his praise, your body trembling with anticipation as he lowered himself down beside you. His large hands, rough from years of fighting, slid over your skin, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. He started at your collarbone, his fingers tracing the delicate line of your neck before dipping lower to cup your breasts. His thumbs brushed over your nipples, and you gasped, arching into his touch.

He took his time, worshipping every inch of you with his hands, his mouth following the path his fingers had blazed. He kissed the hollow of your throat, the curve of your breast, the soft swell of your stomach. Each touch, each kiss, was slow, deliberate, as if he was savoring the taste of you, the feel of your skin beneath his lips.

You were lost in the sensation, your body humming with pleasure. But it wasn’t enough. You needed more.

“Bruce,” you whimpered, your hands fisting in the sheets as his mouth trailed lower, kissing along the inside of your thighs. “Please...”

He groaned against your skin, his breath hot as he kissed his way closer to where you needed him most. “Patience, sweetheart,” he murmured. “Let me take my time with you.”

You whimpered again, your body aching with need, but you knew better than to rush him. Bruce was a man who controlled every aspect of his life with iron discipline, and that control extended to the bedroom. He liked to draw things out, to savor the slow build of pleasure until you were trembling on the edge of release.

And that’s exactly what he did.

His mouth finally found your core, and you cried out as he dragged his tongue slowly up your slit, teasing you with featherlight touches. He hummed against you, the sound vibrating through your entire body as he tasted you. His tongue circled your clit, drawing tight, controlled patterns that had you gasping for air.

Your hands flew to his hair, gripping the dark strands tightly as he continued to torment you with his mouth. He licked and sucked, his tongue never stopping its relentless assault on your clit. You could feel the orgasm building, a tight coil of pleasure winding in your belly.

“Bruce,” you gasped, your hips bucking against his face. “I’m so close...please...”

He groaned again, his grip on your thighs tightening as he increased the pressure of his tongue, pushing you closer to the edge. You could feel the heat building, could feel yourself teetering on the brink of release.

And then he stopped.

You cried out in frustration as he pulled back, his lips glistening with your arousal. “Bruce, please...I need...”

“I know what you need,” he growled, crawling back up your body. His eyes were dark with lust, his pupils blown wide as he hovered over you. “But I’m not done with you yet.”

Before you could protest, he was kissing you again, his mouth hot and insistent against yours. You could taste yourself on his lips, the salty sweetness of your arousal mixed with the raw, masculine flavor of him. It was intoxicating, and you couldn’t get enough.

His hand slid between your bodies, his fingers finding your slick entrance and slipping inside you. You moaned into his mouth, your body arching off the bed as he began to pump his fingers in and out of you, curling them just right to hit that sweet spot deep inside you.

“Bruce,” you whimpered, your nails digging into his back. “Please...I need...”

“You’ll get what you need,” he rasped, his breath hot against your ear. “But first, I want to feel you come around my fingers. I want to watch you fall apart for me.”

His words sent a shiver down your spine, and you clenched around his fingers as the coil of pleasure in your belly tightened once more. He added a third finger, stretching you in a way that was just on the edge of too much, but it felt so good that you couldn’t stop the moan that tore from your throat.

His thumb brushed over your clit, and that was all it took to send you tumbling over the edge. Your body seized, and you cried out as the orgasm crashed through you, your walls clenching around his fingers in waves of pleasure.

Bruce groaned, watching you with a look of pure, unadulterated lust as you fell apart beneath him. “That’s it,” he murmured, his voice rough with desire. “That’s my girl.”

You were still trembling from the aftershocks when he pulled his fingers out of you, his lips crashing against yours once more. You could taste yourself on his tongue, the tang of your release mixing with the roughness of his kiss.

Bruce pulled back, his chest heaving as he looked down at you, his eyes darker than the Gotham night. His hands were still on your trembling thighs, holding you open for him, and the way he gazed at you was as if you were the only thing keeping him tethered to the world. There was something primal in his expression, a need so deep it made your pulse race all over again.

"You're stunning when you come," he said in a low, gravelly voice, the sound vibrating deep in your chest. His fingers trailed up your thigh, teasingly grazing your oversensitive folds, and you whimpered at the sensation. You were still throbbing from your first orgasm, and even the slightest touch made you shiver with both pleasure and overstimulation.

But Bruce had other plans for you tonight. He leaned in close, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispered, “I’m not finished with you yet, sweetheart.”

A thrill shot through you at his words. You could feel the weight of his desire pressing against your thigh, hard and insistent, but instead of giving in to his own need, Bruce seemed intent on worshiping you, on drawing out every ounce of pleasure he could. You had seen him like this before—focused, deliberate, a man on a mission. Only now, his mission was you.

You bit your lip as he kissed down your neck again, his lips and tongue tracing the path of your earlier shudders. He was slow, methodical, savoring the way your body responded to him. Your skin was hypersensitive after your release, and every kiss, every brush of his rough hands, sent sparks of sensation through you.

“Bruce…,” you breathed, unsure whether you were begging for more or asking for mercy.

His lips curled into a smirk against your skin. “Too much?” he asked softly, though there was a teasing note in his voice. His hand slid back between your legs, his fingers lightly tracing your swollen, soaked folds. "Or maybe... not enough?"

The ache between your thighs reignited at his touch, and you moaned softly, your body arching toward him. You were caught between the lingering sensitivity of your first climax and the overwhelming desire for more. The pleasure had barely faded, and already, you felt it building again. Bruce's fingers dipped inside you once more, stroking you with a maddening slowness that made you squirm beneath him.

"I want to feel you come again," he said, his voice rough with need. "I want to see how many times I can make you fall apart for me tonight."

His words, dark and delicious, sent a new wave of heat pooling in your belly. You could feel the tension returning, the slow, insistent pulse of pleasure building as Bruce continued to work his fingers inside you, his thumb brushing over your clit in rhythmic circles. You clenched around him, your body already betraying you, already chasing the high of release again.

He was relentless, patient, his fingers curling against that sweet spot deep inside you, his thumb rubbing circles around your oversensitive clit. You could barely think, barely breathe as the pleasure built higher and higher, threatening to overwhelm you. You had never been so close to overstimulation before, and it was both too much and not enough all at once.

“Bruce—please, I—I can’t…” You gasped, your hands clutching at his shoulders, nails digging into his skin.

“You can,” he growled, his lips brushing the shell of your ear. “You will.”

His thumb pressed harder against your clit, his fingers moving faster inside you, and the coil of pleasure in your belly tightened so quickly you couldn’t stop the moan that tore from your throat. You were trembling, shaking with the intensity of it, your entire body on the verge of shattering under his touch.

Then, without warning, the orgasm hit you again, harder than before. Your vision blurred, your entire body arching off the bed as the pleasure exploded through you, wave after wave crashing over you. You cried out his name, your voice hoarse with the force of your release, and Bruce groaned in response, watching you fall apart beneath him.

“That’s it,” he whispered, his voice thick with satisfaction. “Let go, sweetheart.”

Your body trembled with the aftershocks, your chest heaving as you tried to catch your breath. Bruce’s fingers slipped out of you, and you whimpered at the sudden emptiness, at the loss of his touch. But he wasn’t finished.

He kissed you again, his lips soft but insistent, and you melted into him, still shaking from the force of your second orgasm. His body pressed against yours, his hardness unmistakable as he settled between your legs. You could feel the heat of him, the weight of him, and it sent a fresh wave of desire coursing through you.

“You’re incredible,” he murmured, his lips trailing down the curve of your neck. “But I need more. I need to be inside you.”

You moaned softly, your body still thrumming with overstimulation, but the thought of him filling you, of him finally giving in to his own desire, made the ache between your thighs flare with renewed intensity.

"Please," you whispered, your voice trembling with need. "I want you, Bruce. I need you."

He groaned at your words, his resolve crumbling as he reached down to line himself up with your entrance. He was thick, hard, and the moment the tip of him pressed against your slick heat, you gasped, your body arching toward him in anticipation.

Slowly, agonizingly, Bruce pushed inside you, stretching you in a way that had your toes curling in pleasure. You moaned softly, your hands gripping his biceps as he filled you completely, inch by inch. It was almost too much after everything he had already put you through, but the pleasure far outweighed the pain.

“God, you feel so good,” he growled, his breath hot against your neck as he finally bottomed out inside you. “So fucking tight. So perfect.”

He stayed still for a moment, letting you adjust to the feel of him, but you could feel the tension in his body, the way his muscles trembled with restraint. He was holding himself back for you, trying not to overwhelm you too soon, but you didn’t want restraint anymore.

"Bruce," you whimpered, rolling your hips against him, urging him to move. "Please…"

That single word broke him.

With a deep, primal groan, Bruce began to thrust into you, slow at first but with a growing intensity that had you gasping for air. Every stroke sent a shock of pleasure through you, your oversensitive body responding to him in ways you hadn’t thought possible. Each time he bottomed out, the head of his cock pressed against that sweet spot inside you, and the pleasure radiated outward, overwhelming you.

Your fingers tangled in his hair, your back arching off the bed as you moaned his name over and over again. He was relentless, his hips snapping against yours with increasing force, each thrust driving you higher and higher toward that precipice you had already tumbled over twice tonight.

"Look at me," Bruce growled, his hand gripping your jaw, tilting your head so that your eyes met his. His gaze was intense, filled with heat and adoration, and the sight of him above you, so consumed by his need for you, made your heart race. "I want to see you come for me again."

Your body obeyed before your mind could catch up. The tight coil of pleasure in your belly unraveled, and your orgasm hit you like a freight train. You cried out his name, your walls clenching around him, milking him as wave after wave of ecstasy crashed over you.

Bruce groaned, his hips stuttering as your release triggered his own. With a deep, guttural moan, he buried himself inside you, his body trembling as he spilled into you. His thrusts slowed, becoming more erratic as he rode out his orgasm, until finally, he collapsed on top of you, both of you breathing hard, slick with sweat and sated.

For a few moments, the only sound in the room was the sound of your ragged breaths mingling together. Bruce’s weight was comforting on top of you, grounding you as your mind slowly returned to your body. He didn’t pull out right away, staying inside you, still hard enough to keep you full as he kissed your forehead, your cheek, your lips.

“You’re amazing,” he whispered, his voice rough but filled with something softer, something tender.

You smiled up at him, your hand sliding up to cup his face. "So are you."

Bruce let out a soft chuckle, his lips brushing against yours in a lazy, languid kiss. “I think I might’ve broken you,” he teased, his thumb tracing the curve of your swollen lips.

“You did,” you admitted with a breathless laugh. “In the best possible way.”

He rolled over onto his back, taking you with him so that you were lying on his chest. His arms wrapped around you, holding you close, and you let out a contented sigh as you snuggled into the warmth of his body.

“I could stay like this forever,” you murmured, pressing a kiss to his chest, just above his heart.

Bruce smiled softly, his hand stroking your back in slow, soothing circles. “So could I.”

For a while, the two of you simply lay there, wrapped in each other’s arms, the world outside forgotten. There was no crime, no shadows. There was only the two of you, tangled together in the aftermath of your shared pleasure, basking in the warmth of your love.

[rinachains]

synopsis: in which your leader invites you for a drink and you see a new side of him.

wc: 2.1k

contents: cult leader!geto x gn!reader; tipsy, clingy geto; fluff, small warning for cult!leader geto lol; alcohol consumption

a/n: pls keep in mind that english is not my first language. reblogs and comments are very much appreciated!

It wasn’t necessarily unusual for Geto to invite you to join him in his office. Usually, though, you drank tea or coffee and sipped your soothing beverages as you chatted about your day, your duties and anything else that came to mind. You actually assumed he didn't drink alcohol at all - until now.

You were currently standing in his dimly lit office after he asked you to come over earlier that day, taking in the view of him pulling out a bottle of sake and two glasses, putting them on the small, wooden table in front of him. His long, silky onyx hair was tied back in a low ponytail, his usual monk attire had been discarded and replaced with a plain black robe that revealed a glimpse of his strong, broad chest. You could see a faint, healed scar on his otherwise smooth, pale skin. It was unfair how beautiful he looked without even trying, how ethereal.

“Are you planning on joining me eventually or do you want to stand by the door for the rest of the evening?” His purple eyes met yours, a glint reflecting in them, drawing you to him as if you were a crow seeing a shiny object. “C’mon, you know I won’t bite.”

Feeling a little flustered about acting so awkward, you hurriedly walked over to the table where you sat down opposite him on the soft cushions beneath you and crossed your legs to make yourself more comfortable. You couldn't help but naively think that this felt a bit like a date, but you knew better, didn't you? You were just driven by your own hormones because you weren't quite used to the attention of a man like him yet.

“Is there an occasion for this or did you just suddenly feel the urge to get drunk, Master Geto?”, you asked in a subtle, amused tone to relax yourself and get rid of the tension, raising an eyebrow as you eyed the table.

“No special occasion, I just wanted to share a drink with you.”

“Oh, but I don’t really drink”, you said sheepishly, holding your hand out in front of you. “I mean, I could go for one glass of sake, but I’m afraid that’s my limit.”

He chuckled, looking up briefly through his eyelashes before concentrating on pouring the drinks. “Are you a lightweight or just not fond of the taste?”

“Both, I guess.”

“I’m not much of a drinker either, but I thought it could help with relaxing. This week was pretty draining.”

Every time you two would have your little meetings, he would actually indulge you by sharing how his day went and what he’s planning next, but it never truly went deeper than that, solely scratching the surface. You weren't sure if he ever told you how he really felt. He held back, and you couldn't blame him for that. You always wondered why his hatred for non-sorcerers ran so deep, why he started this cult, what finally made him do what he's doing now. You desperately wanted to know and absorb everything about him, but you had to hold back. You wanted him to open up on his own because you were afraid you might overstep your boundaries and destroy the casual bond you two had forged.

He hummed approvingly as he observed you bringing your filled cup up to your mouth and taking small, measured sips. “Self-restraint is good, it’s quite hard to not be greedy.”

Then, contrary to you, he downed his drink in one go, making you choke back a startled laugh. His tongue darted out to lick the remaining liquid on his lips as he put his cup down. You felt your mouth fall slightly open at the sight, resisting the urge to copy him and lick your own lips.

It’s been about a year and a half since you joined Geto’s side. You remembered that day clearly, every single detail burned into your brain.

He was a stranger approaching you in his monk's robes, and for a moment you assumed you were surely going to be dragged into a cult. Which wasn't entirely wrong - you were technically part of a cult now, except you were the one doing the scamming, and he was helping you discover something very important about yourself - your cursed energy and technique.

Years, almost decades, of feeling as if you were crazy, until you met someone who finally understood and proofed to you that you weren’t crazy, but, in fact, special. You were no longer lonely; for once you were surrounded by people and there was no loneliness that weighed you down.

He was your leader, but he never made you feel inferior. Your group was more like a family; that’s what he said to you from the beginning, what he promised with such earnest enthusiasm. You’d join his family, become a part of it, a new member. You’d finally belong.

It also didn’t help that he was handsome – devilishly so. You didn't think you'd ever met anyone as captivating as him, with eyes so keen and sharp, smile so nihilistic and almost cruel, voice so gentle and soothing. Truthfully, he had you under his spell the moment you encountered those purple hues.

Normally, he was carrying himself in such a collected, mature manner, domineering and commanding but without being brash and forceful – he was a natural leader who effortlessly managed to wrap others around his long fingers, including you.

Now, as the two of you were sitting here, and you slowly finished your one drink and he was already on his third one, there was a light flush coating his cheeks, his hair lightly disheveled, a few more strands than usual hanging in his face, framing his delicate, sharp features. It gave him a boyish charm that made the corner of your lips curl up, your cheeks feeling warm (and not just from the alcohol). It was vulnerable in a way; you wondered if you were the first one to see him in such a state. The thought of someone else getting this view made your stomach churn; you wanted to be the first and the only one. A view reserved for you eyes only.

“Let me pour you another one, Master Geto”, you exclaimed, reaching out for the bottle and carefully pouring more liquid in his cup.

His eyes intently followed your movements, hand twitching with the secret urge to pet your head and relish the softness of your hair. So eager to please.

“Suguru.”

“Huh?”, you quickly turned your attention towards him again, just as you put down the bottle on the table.  

“Call me Suguru.” His head tilted to the side, bang swinging with his lazy movements, and he put his hands behind him, leaning back. “We’ve known each other for a while now. And I trust you. Shouldn’t the person I trust call me by my first name?”

“You-“, you choked out a response, flustered by his unexpected directness, “you can’t just say things like that.”

“Why not?”, he gave you a look of genuine confusion, making you hold back a chuckle at his current childlike nature. “I want to be honest with the people I care about.”

A huff escaped your lips, more collected now. “I guess that checks out since you lie so much on a daily basis.”

“Hmh, exactly”, he purred, a deep rumble vibrating in his chest and you swore you could almost feel it despite the small distance between you. “I have to lie so much to these monkeys, ‘have to play pretend. I don’t have to do that with you.” Something akin to a blissful expression formed on his face and his voice was so insufferably sultry, dripping honey that you could almost taste on your own tongue.

You pursed your lips, biting the inside of your cheek. “But you’re still my leader, it wouldn’t be really appropriate to call you by your first name”, you paused for a moment, watching his face and thinking for a brief moment that it almost looked like he was sulking. “Plus the other ones still call you Master Geto.”

“Mhm but that is different”, he sighed, confusing you even more. Different how? “And, if you insist that I’m your leader, then I give you the order to call me by my first name. You can’t resist my orders, can you?”

You let out a sigh in return, sounding exhausted, though you weren’t sure from what exactly. Maybe it was time to go for you, feeling like you’d lose your mind the longer you were with him in his current (incredibly irresistible) state.

“I believe I have to go now, Suguru. I have to be up early tomorrow.” You carefully got up from your sitting position and turned your back to him, and just as you were about to walk towards the door, you were suddenly held back and placed on the floor again, making you let out a gasp.

Strong arms were wrapped around your waist, holding onto your stomach, lightly squeezing, but still considerate with their touch. Geto’s scent enveloped you, something earthy and fresh, and just so addictive. It smelled like home. The warmth he radiated surrounded you, you were able to feel his broadness and his muscles against your body, reminding you of a shield rather than a cage. You didn’t believe you ever felt so secure.

“Don’t go.”  

“Suguru…”

“Stay here. S’comfortable when you’re around.” Oh.

You tilted your head, looking over your shoulder to get a glimpse of his face, only for your nose to almost touch his cheek. A shiver ran down your spine. His eyes were half-lidded, pupils dilated, and his eyebrows slightly furrowed; he appeared almost pained. As if the mere thought of you leaving him would hurt him deeply. You felt your knees getting weaker and you became overly aware of the way you were breathing, trying to tell yourself to take normal, regular breaths.

“Say: do you like being here?”, you felt his warm breath hitting your bare nape as he lowered his head, your hair standing up and goosebumps covering your body. “Do you ever regret joining me?”

Surprised by his sudden questioning, you raised your eyebrows. “Have I given you the impression that I did?”

His thin lips dropped into something resembling a pout. “Answer my question.”

You resisted the urge to poke his forehead, instead holding your hands still by your sides, lightly grazing his arms that were still wrapped around you, his finger caressing your covered stomach in soothing circles. “No, I never regretted joining you. In fact, I believe it was the best thing that could have happened to me.”

He hummed, somewhat satisfied by your answer yet still skeptical.

“You could have lived a simpler life.”

“Sure, perhaps I could have lived a life in blissful ignorance”, you huffed. “But I also would have lived the rest of my life wondering what’s wrong with me. Maybe I would have become mad at some point. You gave me the answers I needed, and more. You gave me purpose.”

Geto was sure – sooner or later Satoru would have discovered you and taken you under his wing. You would have become a jujutsu sorcerer; putting your life at risk, just to save monkeys who neither cared nor were even aware of your existence. No, he couldn’t have allowed this. The thought made his skin crawl, images of you being life stock haunting his mind. You were made for something better, you deserved more than that, to be untainted and free from the shackles of jujutsu society. Only he could give you that. Perhaps he was selfish in that way, for needing to have you by his side, but he would gladly indulge in that selfishness if it promised your proximity to him and your safety.  

You directed your stare towards the ceiling, a contemplative expression grazing your features. “I guess you saved me.”

You couldn’t see how his eyes were now less drowsy and became bigger, a sparkle appearing in them, and how the colors in his already reddened cheeks seemed to deepen.

“Saved you, huh”, he murmured under his breath, voice coming out muffled as he tucked his chin further into your shoulder, almost nuzzling you. Your heart stuttered at the contact, cursing him internally for touching you so casually, for acting so intimate with you.

“I’ll always keep you safe. That’s a promise. No filth should ever touch or harm you.”

“That’s quite a big promise.”

His hand grabbed your chin then, a gentle yet firm grip, the sheer size of his large palm covering it, fingertips barely grazing your bottom lip. He held your gaze, so intense and unwavering that it made your throat dry and afraid to swallow. “I mean it.”

“Alright”, you whispered, as if it was a secret only the two of you should know, forming an invisible string that held you together. “I’ll hold you to it.”

[meo-eiru]

Hihihiii :3 Hope you're having a great day author!

This is my first direct interaction in this website generally speaking, so what better way to start than rambling my head off about the twink slutty baby? YES. Lavi. That cute whore that's been on my mine for a good while now...I want to kiss him, want him to cuddle me so bad grrrr I want to rim his pretty ass and use it as my only life source for the rest of my mortal existence. I want to follow every single one of his instructions on how to please him while he guides me with that shit eating smug grin '>:3'. I totally see him as a power bottom, riding my strap effortlessly while he pins me down telling me how much of a pathetic virgin I am and how fortunate I am to even be touching him, how lucky I am that he's willing to teach me how to make him feel good, how he'd laugh once I'm exhausted and he keeps nonchalantly bouncing still with his endless incubi stamina...MMMM...But also, I want to hit his ribs each time he throws an annoying tauntrum, or make him whimper each time he breaks something expensive, I want to sneak into his phone and watch just all the dozens of porn he has in his gallery along with his search history, I need to make him cry so hard until we're both doubting who's the real pervert here...I NEED to peg him. I NEED to spank his cute jiggling ass until it's red and sore. I need to make him deepthroath my strap and perhaps give me head. I NEED to grope his cute small chest and nurse on his rosy nipples while he tries to make a teasing remark only to be interrupted by his own lewd moans. I NEED to watch how all that lube and cum slowly leaks out of his puffy hole with profane sounds while spreading his supple asscheeks further apart as he whines and mewls begging for more. I NEED to cuddle him from behind while I finger his thight whorish asshole, I NEEEED to give him some genuine, gentle love-making while kissing his pretty face and cooing sweet nothings into his ears while he grabs onto my neck thightly saying shamelessly how good it feels.

I want to give him goodnight kisses on the forehead, cheeks, nose, eyes, tummy and finally his soft lips. I want to feel him clinging onto me with his limbs (and tail of course) while we sleep, even better if he craddles my head on his chest. I might even forgive his murders if he promises to be a good boy with a pretty pout even though he'd probably be crossing his fingers behind his back. I want to do each other's hair and nails. I want him to listen to the music I listen to (Rabbit Hole by DECO27 would be SO him). I want to see his deadpaned and disdainful face when I tell him all my bad jokes. I want to go out with him at those aesthetic cafés and buy him everything he wants even if I won't be able to buy anything else for a while. I want us to get matching couple cheesy things. I want us to do lovey dovey stuff together and maybe a kiss that doesn't end up looking out of a hentai. A wholesome one. I want him to live on my lap. I want him to try make him wear decente clothes from time to time. I want to see his reaction once my mortal life comes to an end. (If he cries and gets depressed he'll look so pretty but if he laughs he'll also look so pretty). I want to show him off to my friends even if I know he's probably the type that types 'uwu', ':3' or 'nya~' either satirically or not. I would bear the cringe for him. I want to send him memes and reels and, overall, just hear his laugh because I'm sure it would be gorgeous just like him. <3

He literally lives rent free in my mind this is a call for help. I crave for more Lavi content.

I'm not horny. You are.

Anyway, thanks for the constant posting! I love how you write your characters and draw/paint! You're one of my favorite artists. Eat well and have a good day/night. :)

Oh my dear GOD this was a ROLLER COASTER

I don't even know where to start. Alright so first of all, this is so deliciously written omg??? You made me put Lavi on a plate and eat him I bet he'd taste like cake. The contrast between the wholesome parts and the extremely unholy parts were crazy I felt like I was in a car that randomly speeds up and down

Rabbit hole is indeed very Lavi, the animation fits him so well as well. If I knew how to make them I'd definitely draw a Lavi version. And yes he's definitely the type who'd type "uwu" and ">:3" unironically

THE DRAWINGS ARE SO CUTE AS WELL!! HE LOOKS SO ADORABLE LOOK AT HIS CUTE LITTLE FACE AND CUTE BUTT

[violettwrites]

trailerpark!daryl headcanons

a/n: this includes both sfw & nsfw ( below the cut ) headcanons for tp!daryl

if you enjoy my stuff, please don’t forget to like, reblog, and/or comment ! here you can find my masterlist, and my ask box is open for requests !

warnings: there is mentions of abuse, and weed in this post, also nsfw content. please proceeded with caution 🫶🏻

resources: divider by @adornedwithlight

sfw tp!daryl dixon headcanons.

➵ tp!daryl dixon is very much different to his older brother. quieter, less annoying, but overall just nicer. he is extremely loyal, & protective.

➵ he is extremely self sufficient. being left home alone for days on end helped him build his resilience.

➵ he has a soft spot for stray animals. the amount of times he has found a tiny stray kitten and wanted to bring it home is countless, but he knew his father would not be happy with him.

➵ he’s surprisingly very good at drawing. he often likes to sketch scenes of his surroundings, wherever he may be. that may include the creek you and him spend a lot of time together at, the silver dome arena where countless concerts he’s snuck into have played, or even just random doodles.

➵ he loves heavy metal and rock music. his favourite bands are motörhead, slayer, iron maiden, metallica— just to name a few. he gets his taste in music from merle.

➵ he is not much of a talker, but he is definitely a listener. he will listen to you rant and ramble for hours on end, often just replying with a nod of his head or a mhm, but you know he’s always taking it in.

➵ he often wears long sleeves & sweaters to hide the bruises and scars on his body from his father. it’s harder when he ends up with a black eye, but he just plays it off as him and merle roughhousing.

➵ the first time he ever smoked weed was with you, and merle, in one of the old broken down cars at the trailer park. merle and daryl sat in the front and you in the back, dutching out the old chevy with the smoke.

➵ he didn’t like going to school, often skipping classes or just not showing up at all. but you can bet he was always there to walk you home at the end of the day.

➵ he can often be extremely withdrawn, isolating himself several times a week. it’s never personal towards you, but you’ll often notice he’s been missing for a few hours. you can usually find him down at the creek, in the woods behind the trailer park, or even on top of his trailer sometimes.

➵ because he’s too broke for concert tickets, he’s snuck into concerts so many times.

➵ he’s had a crush on you since he knew what crushes were, really. merle constantly teased him for looking at you like a lost puppy, urging him to make a move. but he’s too shy for that, and he didn’t like the idea of possibly ruining your friendship.

➵ overall, he’s your best friend. you trust him with your entire life, and you couldn’t ask for anyone better.

nsfw tp!daryl dixon headcanons.

➵ big switch energy !

➵ when he’s topping, he’s rough with you, but always makes sure you’re okay. he’ll press your thighs to your chest while he fucks you, or he’ll pull your hair from behind. the rings on his fingers also add to the pleasure when he spanks you.

➵ when he’s subbing, he’s a whiny, begging mess. he’ll grip at your thighs or ass, looking up at you with big blue eyes while he begs for you to keep going.

➵ the first few times you two fucked, he kept his shirt on. he was too nervous to take it off, but you never pushed him. slowly he became more comfortable and now it’s one of the first things he’s ripping off.

➵ aftercare king ! not that there’s much he can do without possibly outing himself to merle or his father of his activities, he’ll always make sure you’re okay— wether that be just getting you a glass of water and snuggling with you after, or kissing every inch of your body.

➵ certified pussy eater™. he’d go down on you for hours if he could.

➵ if he had to choose between ass and tits, he’s definitely an ass man. he loves grabbing handfuls of the flesh, especially when you’re riding him or he’s fucking you from behind.

➵ loves leaving hickeys in place only you and him can see.

➵ loves to hear you moan but also loves to shove his fingers in your mouth to shut you up when you’re being a bit too loud.

[writing-until-i-drop]

What's In A Name? Chapter Six

Meg Harding and Kate Carter were inseparable until their friends died five ago, then she ran to New Orleans to save lives as a paramedic. But when Javi calls on his two oldest friends to help him collect data, counting on their matching natural instincts for tornadoes, Meg goes home for the first time in years. That's where she meets Tyler and the rest of the Wranglers, the YouTube storm chasers her dad likes to watch, and finds herself fitting in more with them than with Storm PAR. Meg only plans to stay for the week but will it be easy to leave when the dust settles?

If a certain cowboy has a say in it, nothing about leaving is going to be easy.

A/N: Cathy's not playing fair

AO3 Link

Previous Chapter

“Meggy Harding, you are a sight for sore eyes,” Cathy Carter called coming from the direction of the old barn. “Come here, honey,” Meg hurried down the porch to meet her on the lawn, letting herself be swept up into one of Cathy’s strong hugs. “You’re getting skinny, have you been taking care of yourself?” 

“Been tryin’ to,” Meg let her second mom place kisses all over her face. “But I’ve been busy.” Cathy pinched her cheek, giving her a playful glare.

“Well, I’ll cook up a big dinner. You here for Kate?” 

“Always,” Meg tipped her head back to where Tyler remained on the porch, “And I brought a friend just in case my boot up her ass ain’t enough.” Cathy’s gaze shifted over Meg’s shoulder and the older woman perked up,

“Honey, he’s cute,” She said less than stealthily, wiggling her brows. “He your boyfriend?”

“Cathy, please,” Meg whined, tugging on Cathy’s arm. “Please be the one adult in my life actin’ normal about this man.” 

“Fine, fine, I’m on my best behavior.” She messed Meg’s hair, moving past her towards the porch. “And who might you be, honey?” 

“Tyler Owens, ma’am. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“Pleasure’s all mine, especially since you brought Meggy here to see me,” Tyler’s smile was big and bright. He was every parent’s dream, standing there all handsome, every sentence coming out of his mouth starting or ending with “ma’am.” 

Meg abandoned them, wandering off to the barn where she found Kate watching her old science project make a tornado. 

“Never gets any less impressive, Katie my Lady.” Kate glanced over her shoulder with a sad smile.

“Never thought we’d be back in the barn,” Kate’s accent was a little more pronounced, heavy with emotion. “Mom never cleaned it out,” Meg looked around, taking in the plastic covered tables. Without lifting the sheets, Meg knew what was beneath each one. All of Kate’s research, Addy’s drawings, Jeb’s cameras, and my binder filled with diagrams of the human body and notes on everything that could go wrong with it. The plan back then had been to become a doctor, Meg hadn’t thought about that dream in a long time. 

“We left a lot of things unfinished,” 

“Wonder why.” Kate clicked off the simulator, leaning back against the table. “What are you doing here, Meg?” 

“I smacked Javi, Tyler stopped me before I could hit him for real.” Kate chuckled, running a hand down her face. “We didn’t kill them, Kate.” 

“I’m going back to New York,” Meg sighed. If Kate ran again, there was no getting her back, she knew that. “Don’t try and stop me.” 

“We gotta do something, Katie, and runnin’s not an option anymore.” Kate’s response was cut off by Cathy and Tyler strolling into the barn, laughing to themselves. 

“You brought Tyler?” Kate snapped, angry. Meg’s temper spiked back,

“What was I supposed to do, steal his truck?” Kate flinched, “Not everything can be solved by runnin’, Kate, sometimes you’ve gotta chase.” 

“Well, maybe I don’t want to!” Kate shouted, tears streaming down her face, “Not everyone’s okay with the people they love-”

“Kate, go set the table,” Cathy shouted over them both, “Meg, cool off.” Dying. That was the word Kate was going to use and even though Cathy had stopped her, Meg heard it all the same. Kate saw Meg accepting what had happened to their friends as her not caring? It was like a punch to the gut, Meg physically faltering where she stood. Cathy took off after Kate, who rushed out of the barn, sobbing, and Tyler crossed the room to her. 

“I’m fine,” She was not fine. “We just,” Tyler wiped away her tears with his sleeve, concern evident on his face. “This barn brings up a lot of memories.” Tyler took a good look around, “Kate’s havin’ a hard time dealing with that.” 

“Just Kate?” Meg snorted, pulling her hair out of its ponytail. “Going to be honest, darlin’, didn’t think I’d walk in here to find you two arguing.” 

“Yeah, well, we’ve known each other for a decade and I’m pretty sure that was our first,” Meg shook her head. “God fucking dammit, I never shoulda left New Orleans.” 

“Hey, hey, hey, no need for that,” Tyler smoothed her bangs back, kissing her forehead. “Friends fight. Boone and I get into it all the time, you two will be okay.” Meg wrapped her arms around Tyler’s waist, resting her head against his chest. “I promise, darlin’, everything’s going to be okay.” 

“It’s not, Ty, you can be as charmin’ as you like but I’ve got to help Javi finish getting his data and go home. It’s the only helpful thing I can do while I’m here.” 

“About that…” Tyler stroked her back and Meg’s stomach dropped.

“He’s not helping people…is he?” Tyler began to fill her in on all the dirty details of Storm PAR’s involvement with Marshall Riggs and how they took advantage of people in distress to fund their research. All her earlier fight left her body with a great sigh, broken defeat replacing it. “That’s it, I’m going home.” Meg tried to pull away but Tyler held her tight, “Ty.”

“I thought you said running wasn’t an option,” 

“Then call me a fuckin’ hypocrite and take me to the airport.” Meg pushed one more time but Tyler still didn’t budge. “You can’t hug me until I change my mind, Ty, it’s not gonna work.”

“Darlin’,” Tyler kissed her forehead again. “If you still feel that way in the morning, I’ll take you to the airport.” Meg expected to feel relieved but instead, she felt even more dejected.

“How’s it going in here?” Cathy came back through the doors, “You cooled down enough for dinner, Meggy?”

“I’m goin’ home tomorrow,” Tyler finally let her pull away, only for Cathy to take Meg’s face in her hands. A disapproving look on her face.

“Unless you’re talking about visiting your mama, I don’t want to hear it, honey.” She opened her mouth to argue but Cathy steamrolled right over her. “What you’re going to do is eat some dinner and get some sleep, then you’re going to finish putting your boot up my daughter’s ass and finish what all of you started. Do you hear me, young lady?” 

“Yes, ma’am.” Cathy turned her gaze to Tyler, pointing at him,

“And you, she tries to run, you stop her.” 

“Already on it, ma’am.” 

“Good, knew I liked you. Now come on, let’s eat.” 

It took less than a minute being back in each other’s presence for the girls to make up, throwing themselves at each other. Hugging and tearfully apologizing to each other, much to Cathy’s amusement and Tyler’s visible relief. Besides her great aunt Meg’s cooking, Cathy’s cooking was Meg’s favorite, and Cathy kept scooping more food onto her plate until she was ready to burst. 

Then the stories started, Cathy was hell-bent on embarrassing both girls and Tyler was all ears, teasing them both. His hand was resting on Meg’s knee, tethering her to him like a lifeline. Things soured quickly the second Cathy brought up their old project, Kate storming off in the most polite way possible. 

“Tyler, why don’t you go read through their old research, it’s in the white binder with the cloud on it.” 

“I don’t want to push my luck with your daughter ma’am.” Meg patted his thigh, giving him the silent approval, “If you’re sure.” 

“Come on, honey, I’ll wash, you dry.” 

Meg turned on some 90s country music on her phone to fill the silence while they washed the dinner plates, Cathy was the one to break the silence.

“He seems like a good man, Meggy.” Cathy handed her a dish to dry.

“He is,” She agreed. “Don’t tell me my dad’s got you bettin’ on my wedding too.” Cathy gave a little shrug, failing to fight a smile. “Busy bodies, I swear.” 

“What? You expect us to see you with a cowboy gentleman, who seems to love storms as much as you do, and not hear wedding bells?” Meg groaned, taking another plate to dry. 

“At least tell me you’re not in on Rabbit’s pool.” The silence was deafening, “Cathy!” 

“Well, there is only one bed in the guest room.” She didn’t know who she wanted to strangle first, Cathy or Rabbit. “And you and Kate shouldn’t be sharing a twin bed, the guest room has a full.” 

“You’re killin’ me. So, when I wasn’t looking you pulled my bag outta Kate’s room and put it with Tyler’s? Is that what you’re tellin’ me?” 

“I’ve got a hundred bucks on it happening before the end of storm season and no one said I had to play fair.” 

“Dirty, no good cheater,” Meg mumbled. They then settled into silence again, finishing the rest of the dishes.

“Has Kate been chasing again? She said she wasn’t.” Meg hummed, drying off the last dish and putting it away in the cabinet.

“Javi asked us to come down and help him collect data.” God, things had seemed so much simpler only a few days ago. “So, yeah, we’ve been out chasin’ again.” 

“I’m proud of you for coming back, Meggy, proud of all of you.” Meg leaned against the counter, staring up at the ceiling. There was a red mark in the center from where Parveen had eaten a Babybel Cheese, rolled the wax into a ball, and tossed it around. The little wax ball had stuck to the ceiling, the wax never fully coming off.

“I don’t know if I’m back yet, Cathy.” She tossed the dish rag over her shoulder with a sigh. “I want to help people and as much as I love chasin’, it ain’t as helpful as my job back in New Orleans. Those people,” She thought of the last patient she had transported before leaving. A ninety-year-old woman with chest pains, she had told Meg her whole life story in the back of the rig. She wasn’t scared of dying, no, June Bishop was perfectly content. Miss June had lived a long life, she had gotten married young and had three sons, all of whom went to serve in the military, she had lost everything in Katrina like so many others, and had lived long enough to see all of her grandchildren, and one great-grandchild born. Meg had held her hand the whole way to the hospital. “Those people I can help in a tangible way. I mean, if Kate,” Tears pricked her dry eyes. “If we could finish what we started, I think that’s the only thing besides a funeral that could get me to come back.” 

Cathy gathered her up in a hug, both of them leaning against the counter. After some time passed, Kate came down from her room, and without a word she joined them in the embrace. A little while later, Meg shot off a text to Lily.

Meg: How’s everything going?

Lily: Boone’s a bit butt hurt but he’ll get over it - you?

Meg: Touch and go

Tyler seemed surprised to find Meg brushing her teeth in the bathroom attached to the spare bedroom when she spotted him in the mirror. 

“Not that I’m complaining but I figured you’d be sharing a bed with Kate,” Tyler leaned against the door jamb of the bathroom and there was something so domestic about the whole situation that caught Meg off guard. She’d had plenty of boyfriends over the years, none lasting more than a month before either she got tired of them or they got tired of her. Sleepovers with men weren’t something she was used to though, even in a relationship she liked to sleep alone, kicking her dates out at the end of the night.

“I did too,” She replied after spitting and rinsing her mouth. “I’ve got to wash my face if you want to get changed.” 

“Yes, ma’am,” He closed the door and when he was done, opened it again, watching her dry her face with a soft, pink towel. “Are you okay with the sleeping arrangements, darlin’, or should I take the couch?” 

“I’m fine if you are, I am going to give Cathy an earful for it in the morning though.” Tyler followed her to the bed, claiming the side closest to the door. 

“Sounds like there’s more to it than a lumpy couch.” 

“Oh, there is,” Meg huffed, relaxing into the pillows, breathing in the scent of air-dried laundry. “My family’s got all sorts of bets running on us and Cathy’s bein’ a cheat.” Tyler shifted onto his side and she could feel his eyes on her while she stared at the ceiling. 

“Bets that involve us sharing a bed?” 

“Yes, sir,” She drawled sarcastically, turning off the lamp on her side of the bed. “It’s embarrassin’.” 

“Well,” Tyler sighed, “I think if I’m being bet on, I should know what for.” Why? Meg closed her eyes. Why was her family like this?

“They bet on how long, Jesus Christ,” She took a deep breath, “They bet on how long it would take me to, and I quote, ride the cowboy.” Tyler, thank God, didn’t say anything but he did chuckle and she could feel his eyes on her. Meg wanted the bed to open up and swallow her whole, her face burning with embarrassment.

“And the other bet?” Meg took another long, deep breath before answering.

“They’re bettin’ on us getting married, Arkansas,” She flipped to face away from him. “Now go to sleep.” Tyler’s hand gripped her waist, flipping her to her other side so they were face to face. “I’m not talking about this, Ty.” 

“You’re cute when you’re annoyed,” He squeezed her hip, giving her a soft smile that made her heart beat like crazy. He was backlit by the lamp on his side of the bed, a soft, yellow light highlighting him in an angelic way. “You scrunch your nose like this,” He imitated her and he looked adorable. Meg giggled, bopping his nose.

“Stop, I’m trying to be mad and you actin’ sweet ain’t helping.” He shrugged,

“Well excuse me for not wanting my girl to be mad.” His girl. Those words weighed on her chest like a cat curling in for a nap, warm and comforting. 

“You are taking this whole thing about my family bettin’ on us having sex and getting married a little too well,” She narrowed her eyes at him. “What are you not sayin’?” He blushed, rubbing circles into her hip with his thumb. “Tyler I-don’t-know-your-middle-name-Owens, tell me.” 

“Michael,” He muttered. Meg tilted his head up with two fingers under his chin. “That’s my middle name.” 

“And mine’s Marie, now spill it.” 

“There may or may not be a similar bet going with the group,” Of course there was. 

“Bet, as in singular?” He nodded, “Which one do they have goin’?” Tyler’s blush deepened.

“Well, darlin’,” Tyler sighed, smiling sweetly. “Boone’s been planning our wedding since you tried to pool the wool over my eyes when we first met.” He cupped her face and she mirrored him, her hand resting on his cheek. “So they’re betting on the other part.” There were two ways Meg could go with this conversation, serious or teasing, and she’d be damned if she did anything serious while wearing Kate’s Hello Kitty sleep pants from high school.

“Well,” Meg stroked Tyler’s stubbled cheek. “Tell Boone I want an October weddin’ and he’s welcome at it whether you’re there or not.” Tyler shook with laughter, tugging her so she was head first in his chest like they had slept the night before.

“Oh, I’m gonna be there, darlin’,” He kissed the top of her head. “Crying while your daddy walks you down the aisle to me.” So much for avoiding serious conversation. Meg expected to feel a sense of fear or at least anxiety thinking about marrying Tyler but instead, she found herself smiling. His cologne was lingering on his sleep shirt and he was oh so warm wrapped around her. She could see him standing at the altar all dressed up in a suit and tie, Boone behind him as best man, and Preacher beside him ready to officiate like he had promised to when she was little.

“Boone share any of these wedding plans with you?” Meg slipped her leg between his, bringing herself just a little bit closer to him. “Tell me everything.” Tyler began stroking her back.

“He wants to do it outside, said he thinks you’d like to be where you can see the sky.” Boone knew her well, that’s exactly how she wanted to get married, not inside of some stuffy church. “Dani’s picking out dresses she and Lily won’t mind wearing as your bridesmaids, they’ve got one for Kate too.” 

“Sounds like they’ve got the whole thing planned out. Lily in charge of the rings?” 

“Yes, ma’am. They even roped Ben into picking out table settings and invitations, he complains but is secretly over the moon.” Tyler’s hand moved to her hair, massaging her neck. Meg groaned, not realizing how much tension had been lingering there until that exact moment.

“That feels good, Ty.” She felt herself getting sleepier, relaxing more into Tyler’s hold with each passing moment. “Keep tellin’ me about our wedding.” 

“Yes, ma’am,” He kissed her hair again. “The biggest argument is what kind of flowers to get. Boone’s a romantic so he wants roses.” That made her giggle,

“Why ain’t I surprised?” 

“Shh, baby,” Tyler teased, kissing her hair again. “You’re supposed to be falling asleep.” 

“Don’t tell me what to do, Arkansas,” Meg sassed half-heartedly. Tyler’s ministrations paused for a moment before he gently pulled her head back by her hair. He was fixing her with one of those listen-to-me looks she’d seen on her mama’s face a thousand times before, his eyes the color of greenage before a big storm. Staring into them, she wondered if her favorite color had ever truly been yellow, or if it had been green all along and she just hadn’t found the right shade until now. 

“Darlin’,” His fingers tightened their grip just a little, giving Meg a jolt of pain that only brought pleasure. “Will you please hush that pretty little mouth of yours and let me talk?” She wanted to sass him again, see what he would do but when she opened her mouth nothing but a yawn came out. He must’ve taken that as a yes, bringing her face back into his chest. He was lucky he was cute enough to get away with manhandling her like that. “Dani’s vote is on sunflowers but Ben and Lily think that lilies would be better.” Meg made an inquisitive noise, wanting to know what Tyler thought. “I’ve got a soft spot for wildflowers, especially daisies. My mama used to keep a vase of them on the counter next to the window.” Meg snaked a hand under the back of his shirt, humming in approval. “I’ll take your freezing hands under my shirt as a yes to the wildflowers.” 

Tyler kept talking about color schemes and Dexter’s thoughts on what to cater for dinner. How Ben had insisted they have live music instead of a DJ and the way Boone wanted to use bandanas as pocket squares, all while Meg drifted off to sleep. 

She woke to her phone ringing, AC/DC’s Highway to Hell breaking the silence of the night. Tyler’s arms were firm around her waist making it hard for her to retrieve the device from the bedside table.

“Hey, Hot Stuff,” She groaned. Tyler didn’t budge from his position curled around her. The man, she was learning, could sleep like the dead. But she would bet he’d be wide awake if she even thought of the word tornado.

“Hey, Honey Buns. How’s the storm hunting?” Nick must’ve been grabbing beignets, she could hear the familiar sounds of Cafe du Monde in the background in the late hours of the night.

“It’s good,” She decided to keep the life and death details to herself for now, not in the right mindset for a lecture. “How’s my baby, you treatin’ her right?” 

“She’s purrin’ like a cougar in a college bar.” Meg chuckled, “Hadn’t heard from ya so I thought I’d check in. Cecilia misses you something awful.” Cecilia was Nick’s wife of seven years, an ER nurse at University Hospital. She and Meg would sometimes get lunch together when their days off aligned but Meg knew who was really missing her. 

“Yeah, I miss you too,” Nick laughed, commenting on her ego. “The storms out here have been crazy.” Just like she predicted, Tyler stirred.

“Storm? Is that Boone?” Meg rolled her eyes, kissing him on the chin.

“It’s just Nick, go back to sleep, Sweetie Pie.” And then he was out like a light, she shook her head at him.

“Meg Marie Harding, you’ve got a man in your bed?” Nick jokingly scolded her like an older brother. “You ain’t supposed to be doin’ that outta wedlock.” 

“Says the man who tried to set me up with that fire fighter who ended up having a wife.” 

“Not my finest moment, I’ll admit,” He chuckled. “Well, Honey Buns, I’ll let you get back to sinnin’.” 

“Meanin’ your order’s ready?” Nick hung up on her without answering and she laughed softly, choosing not to fight against Tyler’s hold, putting the phone under her pillow.

She’d be back in New Orleans soon enough, riding around in the rig with Nick, going wherever dispatch sent them. But for the first time, thinking about her life there didn’t feel right, her heart constricting the point of physical pain.

Meg traced Tyler’s jaw with her fingertips, then his nose, the arch of his brow, and his bottom lip, the pain getting worse with every second. Helping people was her job, one that she loved and felt called to, but the thought of leaving Tyler was breaking her heart.

“Tyler Michael Owens,” She whispered, watching for any signs that he was awake and seeing none. “I think I just might be fallin’ in love with you.” Meg pressed a feathersoft kiss to his lips, it lasted a second, maybe less, but she felt more in that split second than she had with any of the men Nick had set her up with in the past. 

“Again, baby,” Tyler whispered, eyes blinking open. “Please.” He sounded so needy and desperate, matching her own desire for him. Meg didn’t hesitate to brush her lips against his. Tyler tilted his head into the kiss, kissing her soundly, leaving not an ounce of doubt in her mind that she loved him. It had been less than a week but Meg felt like she had known him her entire life. He made her feel safe, comfortable, and seen. The way he held her at night and couldn’t keep his hand off her leg during the day, the way he listened to her like there was no one else around, and most importantly, the way he treated her with kindness and respect. “Nick okay?” Tyler asked once they came up for air, voice raspy.

“He’s fine, just checkin’ on me.” Tyler hummed, giving her a peck on the lips once, twice, three times more. 

“And how are you doing, baby?” 

“Never better,” Meg kissed his chest, snuggling back into what was quickly becoming her favorite sleeping position. 

Taglist: @theforevermorereject @beltzboys2015-blog @writingrose @sinners-98-world @nerdgirljen @candlejuice @a-court-of-roscoe-and-baby @football1921 @katiemcrae @emma8895eb @itsdesiree86 Want to be added to this list? Just ask!

Next Chapter

[daisyofwaterdeep]

write something for ketheric or raphael and i will pledge an oath of devotion to you—

(unless you make raphael a sex god;; that man cannot fuck!!)

why not both????? (sorta lol)

'Stolen Pleasures'

Raphael x cis female Reader

Content: NSFW, dubcon, blackmailing, painful sex

~

The shadow curse is lifting with every moment. The oppression of the darkness is slowly draining away, making every breath easier than the last. You should be happy.

So why are you here, body in the chill of the river, thinking about Ketheric? You replay the words you shared with him at the top of Moonrise. How lost he seemed. How he was ready to surrender. And then there, in the colony, how his despair had taken him. That voice of his, commanding yet softened with age. Desperate, calling out to his daughter.

Your flickering moonlantern is on the bank, spilling yellow light that shakes and shimmers across the moving water. You watch the shifting light and think about how it's similar to Ketheric. A phantom, intent on it's duty, no matter how the forces around it try to drag it away. But in the end, it provides no warmth--it's just a reflection of the real thing.

You wonder if Ketheric could have been saved in different circumstances. Was his story truly destined for tragedy? Was his life set to end in heartache, the moment he gave himself to Myrkul?

Despite the damage done to the lands, to the people he loved...you find your heart going out to him. A man so consumed by grief, by love, that he gave up everything. Despite everything, you can see the great man that he once was-- a phantom within a reflection.

What if a kiss could have saved him, like a fairytale?

You're tired from the battle and only barely running on the last dregs of your adrenaline. You blame that on your odd thoughts.

A kiss....what if you had kissed him? Held his sorrowful frame against your own, told him that it was all okay, that you could save him?

You sink down into the water, looking towards the glow of the campfire a dozen yards away. You can just make out the outline of a set of horns silhouetted by the light. It seems that Wyll is taking the first watch. It's unlikely that a gentleman such as himself would look this way...

Your hands run across your stomach, venturing up to the weight of your breasts, suspended in the water. Your nipples are hard and aching from the cold, and your water-chilled hands offer no relief.

You imagine the soft rumble of Ketheric's voice as you fondle yourself, the way it would sound if he dropped it low, perhaps to say something sweet to you. And those hands, ravaged by time yet still so strong, so sure. How would they feel against your skin--not to hurt, but to seek refuge?

You close your eyes and inhale sharply as your hands go down, past your navel, then through your pubic hair.

"Ketheric..."

You say the name as quietly as possible, barely audible even to yourself over the soft rush of the water, yet you still shiver with it.

"Ahh, I see."

The voice comes from right behind you, dangerously close to your ear, and you yelp and whip around, already knowing full well who you'll see.

Raphael smiles at you, lidded eyes appearing black in the flickering light of the lantern. He's bare-chested, the dark waters cutting him right at the waist.

"I was wondering what such a delicate thing was doing out here by herself...I had my suspicions, of course, but who could have predicted--"

"What are you doing here, devil?" You cut him off with a bark, feet already edging closer to the bank, knowing your dagger is tucked beneath the pile of your discarded clothes.

Raphael only continues to smile, picking up his sentence as if you hadn't interrupted him "--that you were thinking of the General?"

You fluster and flounder, unable to deny his words. He seems delighted by your face, giving a dark chuckle as he wades his hands across the surface of the water.

"Oh my, how scandalous." He draws the word out with a sultry hiss as he steps forward, easily closing the gap between the two of you. "Do you pleasure yourself to all of you fallen enemies, I wonder?"

"I'll scream."

"Oh come now, don't go and do something so boring." Raphael puts his hands up, showing that he's defenseless, even if you know that to be far from the case. "I have a proposition for you."

You shake your head. "I don't make deals with devils."

Raphael seems undeterred by your refusal, hands still up, palms facing you. "No, nothing so formal as a deal. There won't be any contracts or souls on the line. Consider it more of a... beneficial agreement. A one night soiree." The drawl of his voice pairs so well with the trickling of the water around you, the warmth and weight of it in perfect contrast with the cool river. "I won't say so much as a word to your companions. They won't even know I appeared before you tonight." He rolls his wrists in a practiced flourish, his hands now outstretched to you. "And I won't say a thing about the name that tumbled from your pretty mouth."

"You're blackmailing me?" A mixture of shock and the cold makes your disbelieving laugh come out in a harsh cough, "To what end? What do you you ask in return?"

"Oh, nothing too extravagant, I assure you." Raphael draws closer, close enough that you can feel the fiendish heat radiating from his body, a sinful reprieve in the chill of the night. The lantern's light cast yellow against his long lashes and reflects in the darkness of his eyes, as if a glimpse of the hellfire within him. "All I ask...is to take you."

"Where?" You say, attempting not to cower as he glides even closer, forcing you to crane your head up to maintain eye contact.

"Oh, little mouse." It's as if the luxurious rumble of his words are cast straight through your body. You can smell him now, sweet hints of cherry, yet the underlying heat of burn, of ash. "Surely you aren't so innocent, considering the display I just witnessed." He leans down close, grin never fading from those smug lips of his, his words as thick and sweet as honey, "Let me take you as a man takes a woman. Right here."

You're not sure what to say. What is there to say in such a situation? You look at him, his deep dark eyes and heavied lids and the hook of his nose that draws a long shadow across his high cheek. He knows that his looks are beguiling, and he knows that you're in no place to refuse.

"You truly are a devil." You breathe out just as his chest meets yours, his skin far too hot and warming yours immediately on contact.

He chuckles again, and this time you can feel it, the echo of it against your ribs. "I never claimed to be anything but."

It should come as no surprise that he's also nude in the dark waters, but it doesn't lessen the shock of his hard cock meeting your thigh. It's hot, impossibly so, and as he moves it between your thighs, all you can do is place a wet hand on his shoulder to ready yourself for it's intrusion.

"Not even going to put up a fight?" He mocks, ducking his head down so that his lips hover over yours. "I didn't take you to be so docile."

"Shut up and fuck me, if you're going to."

"Of course." Raphael arm dips into the river and a moment later you feel a hand on the back of your thigh, lifting your leg so that your knee comes up from under the water. You gasp at the cold that rushes between your legs and vulnerability of the position, and Raphael responds with a smirk. "As you wish."

Raphael's other hand disappears in the water in front of himself, and his cock drags against your thigh as he guides himself to your entrance. As soon as the maddening heat of his cock head touches the softness of your folds, he jerks his hips forward, the water caught between the two of you sloshing as he breaches you with no warning.

You yelp in suprise and pain, both hands scrambling against Raphael's bare shoulders as you almost lose your footing. Raphael lets out a sound of his own, a low, languid groan of satisfaction that warms your cheeks as he stutters his hips forward again, forcing another few inches into you.

"Ohhh, my pretty little mouse," He cups the back of your head with a surprising strength, forcing your eyes to meet his. "How tight you are..." The heat of his cock retreats before he thrusts back in to the same point, his top lip raising to show the perfect white of his neat teeth, "Is it the cold that makes you so? Or are you perhaps scared?"

He doesn't wait for an answer. the pleasure-snarl on his face intensifies as he sets into a brutal rhythm, his dark eyes commanding your attention all the while.

It hurts. The hungry pace he's set and the running water between you quickly carries away any of your natural lubricants and you can feel your walls clinging to him, not allowing much movement. Luckily, he doesn't seem interested in bottoming out in you-- Raphael seems more than pleased to stroke the first few inches of himself with your chafing passage.

The only relief you get is in the form of his warmth, but even that is becoming close to unbearable. With every decadent moan he shamelessly lets loose, his body seems to grow hotter, almost searing. Your vision blurs as fine steam rises from his body, beads of sweat dampening your hair and trailing down your forehead just from his proximity. The heat between your legs is nearly stinging--thank the gods for the cold of the water rushing past, elst you'd truly get burned.

The same can't be said for your abused cunt-- even if river water is pushed inside of you with his humping, the heat of his cock is like molten metal, the feeling only aggravated by the dry, clinging friction of his lubricantless fucking.

"R-Raphae-- ahh--!" You want to tell him to stop, to just give you a moment, anything, but your pain and pride won't let the words come out.

"Yes," He hisses, grabbing your hair and pulling your head back to expose your neck to him, "Cry my name out--" A particularly rough thrust has you biting back a shout of pain as he groans out in delight, "You love it, don't you? The feeling of my cock--"

You aren't sure if his words stem from the cruelty of devils or his lack of understanding of mortal bodies. Each stab of his prick into you stings like hellfire, his shallow impalements growing faster as his moans dip into deep rumbles, coming more and more frequently, shaking on each breath. You consider reaching a hand down to rub at your clit, desiring anything to get your mind off the throbbing pain inside of you, but his vicious movements don't allow your hands to leave his shoulders.

But just as you fear you're at your threshold of pain tolerance, he stills mercifully. A deep, throaty groan tears from him as he leans his head back and his eyes roll closed, a decadent display of his pleasured pinnacle. You can feel heat flood inside you, far hotter than possible from a man. Though it stings against your sensitive walls, it also provides enough slickness for his cock to finally slip out of you.

"Oh," Raphael releases your leg and only then opens his eyes, looking smugly at you with nary a hair out of place. "What a treat that was."

You can feel the heat from your insides seeping between your thighs before being swept away by the current. Judging by just how much your pussy aches, you'd guess that some of your blood is mixed with his seed. The relief from the onslaught is enough to have you light-headed and unsteady on your feet, a fact that Raphael seems to willfully ignore.

"I'd be happy to stay for some pillow talk, but unfortunately, duty calls." He flourishes his hand as he bows his head, dark eyes glittering in the gloom of the night, never leaving you. "But don't fret, little mouse. Baldur's Gate looms just ahead...I'm sure we'll be seeing each other very soon."

There's a pulse of magic, a sucking of air, a bright burst of swirling flame, and then a fade into darkness. All at once, you're alone once again.

You sink down into the water, letting the cold river act as a salve on your pained body and mind.

[missadangel]

The Heart of Rome (Marcus Acacius x Reader)

All Chapters List

Chapter 3: The Intention

"Veritas Odit Moras"

Truth Hates Delay.

"Septimia Aurelia, do you know how much I have searched for you, my lady?"

You regarded him with surprise and were rendered speechless.

The man carefully looked around and then grabbed your wrist to move you to a more secluded spot against the wall. "You've got a lot of attention, dressing like this, and it's pretty clear who you are. When did you get here? You've read the letter? Have you told anyone about it? Don’t."

Your heart was beating like crazy, your ears were buzzing, and the man's voice was almost blurred.

“Who… Who are you, sir?”

How come you knew nothing and he knew more than you?

“I'm Macrinus, my lady. You probably don’t remember me, you were too young, I'm the one who took you to Vicius.”

Vicius was your uncle's real name, the one your father had mentioned in the letter.

“I went to Egypt to find you, as your father ordered. However, Vicius was reluctant, I’m not blaming him but-" he glanced over your shoulder as if he was looking for something behind you. "How did you get back to Rome? Where’s he now?”

You tried to understand what he said, but it was very difficult, too much for one day.

"He died and I was brought back as a captive," you said in a low voice, your eyes bright with tears, recalling him once more, especially in this way, stung you anew.

He touched your shoulder. "It seems it was an unfortunate return for you. You must have opened the letter. You didn't lose it, did you?"

You dabbed at your eyes with the tips of your fingers, wiping away the tears. "It doesn't matter now, sir. I was brought here as a slave."

"What slave? You are the daughter of a deified emperor. Who bought you? Who is your Dominus?”

You remained expressionless and refused to give him the General's name. You knew it might put him in a difficult position and you had no intention of trusting him. “Sir, I am a slave and I have to live like one.”

"You can't be serious, please. This is your birthright, and you must demand what you deserve."

"How?"

"I will present it to the Senate, and it is likely to receive their support. However, I must first weaken Geta," he stated, his voice firm and decisive.

“But-."

"I have to go now before they get suspicious. I will help you. I’ve promised your father."

“Sir I-"

"I have a lot to tell you. Trust me and wait," he said, striding across the temple..

This man claimed to be a friend of your father's, but you were unsure whether to trust him. The situation was a significant source of distress for you, both mentally and physically. You felt a sense of nausea, pressing your hand and then your arm against the wall in an attempt to regain your composure. You closed your eyes and pressed your forehead to your arm, attempting to gain control of your thoughts. At that moment, you heard a voice you recognized calling out to you.

"My Lady!" Octavius hurried over to your side, looking concerned.

When you opened your eyes, you saw his sandals first because you were looking at the floor. You looked up.

“Are you well? Did someone do something to you?” He looked around angrily, ready to draw his sword. You put out your hand and stopped him.

“Calm down, sir. I'm fine."

Octavian pulled his hand away, taken aback by your touch. “I've been looking for you everywhere. The general sent me to find you, he was worried.”

You brushed a few strands of hair from your face with the back of your hand. "I'm sorry, I got a little nervous in the crowd and pulled away."

"Yes, it was unexpected for everyone. The emperors were in a hurry to get to the games, so they cut the ceremony short. I couldn't get you to the carriage in time. Forgive me."

"You still treat me like a lady, sir," you teased him.

He smiled. "If you don't mind, I'd like to keep it up. Shall we? The games are about to begin."

He gestured to the waiting carriage in the distance.

You were mesmerised by the splendour of this building, sitting in the part of the Colosseum intended for slaves and others. From your vantage point, you surveyed the area where the emperors and the General were seated, though they were not clearly visible from your distance. However, when they stood and advanced to deliver their opening speeches, you could see them more distinctly in their white shawls.

Caracalla and Geta raised their hands and greeted the crowd, while they chanted their names repeatedly loudly.

"People of Rome! Today, we gather to honor the glorious greatest General Marcus Acacius.”

Applause and voices rose as Geta extended his hand to the General, you were filled with excitement. He took his hand, came forward and raised his hands. He looked up at the top bleachers and searched the crowd, his eyes determined to find you, but it was hard from such a distance.

Caracalla grasped the General's other hand. He was between them, the crowd now chanting all three of their names.

"Are you ready to see these magnificent, mind-blowing games to celebrate his extraordinary achievements?”

When the crowd responded enthusiastically in the affirmative, Geta and Caracalla shouted excitedly at the same time.

“Then let the games begiiiiiiiiiiiin!”

The thick iron gates of the arena rumbled open and two chariots thundered in, their arrival accompanied by the roar of trumpets and the beating of drums. They circled round the arena and stopped in front of the general and the emperors. While the emperors applauded them enthusiastically, the soldiers in charge ordered them to step aside and the chariots moved forward, their warriors saluting the crowd.

“Now, Gladiatoooooors!” Geta shouted and pointed to the other door. The crowd continued to cheer louder when they saw the iron-armored warriors coming out one by one. Every step was a sharp noise, echoing through the arena. The gladiators, seven in number, turned to the emperors and saluted them.

“Ave Imperatores, morituri te salutant!” Hail Emperors, those who are about to die salute you!

Caracalla looked at the General smiling widely.

“Today, the speech is yours, General Acacius!” he shouted and clasped his hand, and sat on his throne.

"Spur them on, you're the expert, I want to see some blood,” Geta said to the general with a wink and sat on his throne, legs crossed, clapping. From a distance, you couldn't hear them or see his face clearly, but you were certain the General was not pleased. As the General raised his arms in the air, the crowd fell silent, and the shouting died down, allowing you to rest your ears a little.

“As a soldier, I can tell you this: When you engage in combat, it is important to maintain a positive mindset and avoid thoughts of defeat. You must only think about winning! However, winning is not easy, not just about killing your enemy or defeating him. Absolutely not. Winning is about being remembered with honor, like a hero, even if you die in the end! A true soldier most likely, is not afraid of death. Neither is a true gladiator! He embraces it, caresses it, and even defies it! Today, we want to see a real gladiator who can kill death itself! Prove you can achieve it and make your emperors proud! Fight with honor and win the crowd!”

The general's speech was a roaring success, prompting a rapturous response from the assembled crowd. The drums beat again, and the gladiators raised their swords in salute to the general and gathered together in a defensive position.

He was the real deal: a genuine commander and warrior. He made your heart beat fast and you admired him.

As the battle between gladiators and other warriors commenced, you began to feel a certain degree of apprehension. You had seen blood and wounded people before, of course, but this was not the point. The point was that these warriors, whose bodies were being ruthlessly cut and torn apart, were being watched with enthusiasm and laughter by the crowd. You were grateful for the top stand, thankful that you were watching from there. You knew you wouldn't have been able to bear to see such an atrocity up close.

The warriors in the chariot had lost all their horses, also torn apart mercilessly, they jumped down and attacked the gladiators with their spears, killing, and butchering a few in the process. Only two gladiators and three warriors remained. They all had cuts on exposed parts of their bodies and blood oozing from their injured areas, but they were completely focused on survival and didn't have time to care. The dusty floor of the Colosseum was stained red, and the smell of blood wafted around in clouds of dust, like the smell of red-hot iron. The gladiators roared their triumph as they slew the last of the warriors, and their voices echoed throughout the Colosseum. The sounds of drumbeats, applause, whistles, cheers, curses, and laughter filled the air.

The emperors rose to their feet and expressed their approval and support for the gladiators through applause and cheers. Once their orations had concluded, the gladiators proceeded through the reopened iron gates, whereupon the drumming ceased. The sole remaining auditory stimulus was the noise of the crowd. The general and emperors were no longer visible, so you decided to leave, as the noise was already causing a headache.

Your legs were aching as you descended the steps, but it was just as hard to get down as it was to get up. After all, you had watched from the top and it was quite high. You had never been up to such a high building before and you were certain that you would never go up again.

When you reached the ground floor, you looked around, but there was no one you recognized. Senators and other dignitaries were leaving the Coliseum one by one, talking among themselves about the evening banquet. You weren't sure that the General would take you there. He was nowhere to be seen, but you kept looking for him. When you took a few steps in the opposite direction to where the people were coming from, you were frightened that you might meet your brothers. When you saw a white shawl his wearing, you approached the General, who was talking to one of the senators. He turned his head and saw you. But you noticed the emperors were walking towards you from another direction. You reeled back in shock and turned on your heel. You were never prepared to see them so close. You strode through the exit and headed for the stairs. Since already climbed and descended quite a few stairs today your feet were no longer firmly planted on the ground. As you quickly went down, you suddenly lost your balance and found yourself on the ground. You shivered when you felt the cold stones against your skin and scowled at the women nearby who were laughing at you as you tried to figure out what had happened. You sat down on the marble stairs, heard his voice and footsteps hurrying down behind you, and soon felt the breeze from his shawl caress your back."Aya!" The General reached out, grasped your hand gently, and lifted you up.

"Are you alright?" He checked your feet and then your face, clearly concerned.

“Ah, as always, our General is a gentleman, isn't he, brother?”

Your heart nearly leaped out of your chest when you heard Caracalla's voice so close. They must have seen the General holding your hand so you immediately withdrew them from the General's and stepped back, bowing your head. However, they were already descending the stairs slowly, their gaze fixed on you.

“Indeed, aren’t you going to introduce us to this beautiful lady, General Acacius?” Geta asked curiously. From where he stood, he looked taller than the general.

“Is she your secret lover or something?” Caracalla chuckled, tilting his head to see your face clearly.

“My emperors, the carriage has arrived,” you could have sworn you'd heard that voice before. When you looked at her, the Empress Julia Domna stared at you raising her eyebrows and came a little closer. You averted your eyes, the feeling that you had seen this woman before took over your whole body and made you even more nervous than your brothers did.

“We just met the General's lover, Mother,” Caracalla laughed.

“Lover?” She sized you up and gave you a stunned look.

“My slave highness,” the General corrected him. You immediately bowed your head and greeted them formally.

“A slave? How fortunate you are, I have never seen such a beautiful slave,” Geta said, his eyes wide, and you felt him tense as the General's body moved slightly in front of yours. You felt grateful as you hid yourself behind his shawl.

“She reminded me of the Germans, remember?" he chuckled and covered his mouth.

Geta accompanied his laughter and punched him jokingly in the shoulder. Then he looked at you again. “Restrain yourself, brother, this is something completely different, you know what I mean?"

Caracalla huffed, “Tempting!"

You had no idea what they were talking about, and despite your best efforts to keep your eyes off Julia, she was always looking at you.

“Bring her to the banquet,” Caracalla said excitedly, clasping his hands together.

“But Highness, you know, women are not allowed there,” Julia said loudly.

“The Empress is right, only senators and patricians, just like any other banquets,” the General said with a sharp tone.

“How boring, I'd like her to serve me, pour me some wine, so I'd see a pretty face instead of those ugly blokes' faces all night.” Caracalla pursed his lips.

Geta sighed at his reaction and put his palm in his foreground. “You’re still a child brother, if you want a girl to get laid, I'll get you one after the banquet,” he turned his head to general. “Spending the night with another Roman's slave would be a bit of theft,” he said with a grin that showed all of his teeth at the General.

The General clenched his jaw and looked at him menacingly. You felt shivers run down your spine. Domna looked at them with concern and tried to ease the atmosphere by clapping her hands. “That's enough gentlemen, I'm famished, watching the games made me real hungry,” she took Geta's arm “Shall we?” She must have been pretty familiar with this kind of situation.

Geta turned to General one last time, ”We wanted to send you a new slave as a gift, tonight,” his eyes searching you up and down.

"That is very kind of you, but I must refuse,” the General said in a firm tone.

He inhaled deeply, "It's not hard to guess why," he smiled crookedly.

“Then I want it for myself, as you promised,” Caracalla whined, taking Geta's other arm.

“Share with me?”

“You just said it's a theft.”

“Cruel.”

They kept up their debate while they walked towards the waiting carriage. It seemed like the tension was slowly easing.

Once they were in their carriage and out of sight, the general turned to you with a look of frustrated annoyance on his face. Meeting your brothers for the first time was awkward, but it was clear that they had always been like that, and everyone, including their mother, accepted it as normal.

“Are they always like this?”

“Worse.”

“They're like spoiled little children,” you snapped.

He let out a little laugh, putting a hand to his mouth, which surprised you. You thought he'd scold you for criticizing the emperors in his presence. But he didn’t, also, his smile was so beautiful that you couldn't help but smile back.

“Have you seen the games? What do you think?” The General asked you curiously.

“Well a bit, bloody.”

He smirked. “But you're used to seeing blood,” he looked around as if he was waiting for something.

“Yes, but I don't like it when people cut each other mercilessly,” you said in a stubborn tone.

“It's called survival.”

“The game of survival,” you murmured. “I don't know, it doesn't feel right,” you said honestly.

“I'm a warrior too you know, I've fought there countless times,” he said with a proud smile on his face.

You looked at him in surprise, of course, you had expected it, but you shuddered when you imagined him there, fighting for his survival. Soon a carriage pulled up beside you both, he touched your shoulder.

"You'd better go to the villa now. They're expecting me at the banquet," he said.

“I want to say thank you, for bringing me here today,” you said softly as he helped you into the carriage.

“The pleasure is mine," he said gently, his eyes meeting yours made you smile undoubtedly.

He then gestured to the coachman and the horses began to move, pulling the carriage forward.

As the carriage carried you away from the General, you continued to observe him from beneath the curtain until his silhouette in white receded from your view.

The next morning, you opened your eyes and smiled when you heard the rooster crowing cheerfully. You sat up with a yawn, you saw that Norell was already up her mattress was empty, clearly started the day before you. You looked out the window while your mind returned to the events of the previous day. You thought about the ceremony, the games, the gladiators, the blood, your first sight of your arrogant and strange brothers, and that brown-skinned man, Macrinus. And of course, the General. When he stood with that golden crown on his head… You smiled to yourself, remembering him, and suddenly your cheeks flushed. You were surprised every time because you had never experienced such feelings in your body before. It was all so new to you.

On the other hand, you couldn't stop thinking about what Macrinus had said. You were sure he was planning something. It was hard to know if it would be right to tell the General everything, how he would react, who he would side with. Then you remembered the letter, and your body stiffened almost like a statue of Venus. It had completely slipped your mind that you had left it in his room. He didn't have a chance to touch his stuff yesterday because he arrived late at the villa, but he would definitely touch it eventually. You quickly tidied yourself and your hair and walked out of your room. As you stood there by the stairs leading up to the General's room, wondering what to do, Norell came up to you, carrying a tray with food on it.

“Are you taking this to the General?”

“Yes, he must be awake by now.”

“I'll take it to him,” you said and took the tray from her.

“Are you sure? The Master has warned us not to let you do too much work.”

“I'll talk to him, don't worry, I need to check his wound anyway,” you said smiling at her.

“Well, I was afraid of dropping the tray,” she gasped.

“What's wrong?” you put the tray on a nearby chair and went over to her, she was pressing her hand to her stomach.

“Well, it’s my moon,” she smiled at you, her freckled cheeks flushed.

“Oh, do you want me to give you an herbal mixture for the pain?”

“Would that help?”

“It works for me.”

You strode into the room and picked up your leather bag, looking through the few remaining bottles of medicine. You were running low on supplies. When you returned to her side, Norell was sitting in a chair, pressing her hands to her stomach.

You poured some of the medicine from the bottle into a bowl on the tray and crushed it, then poured a little wine into a cup, also from the tray, and diluted the mixture.

"That was the master's cup," Norell declared.

"I'll get a new one from the kitchen, drink this, and I'll be right back."

You had to cross to the other courtyard to get to the kitchen, where you had last entered the balneum. You felt your cheeks flush as you remembered the last time you were there with the General there. You returned to the main courtyard with a new cup, put it on the tray, and looked at Norell, who was grimacing as she drank the herbal concoction you had given her.

"This tastes awful," she complained.

"That's why you should drink it all, dear,” you smiled at her.

Then you picked up the tray and ascended the stairs, one by one. You stopped in front of the General's room, propped the tray up with one hand, and knocked on the door with the other. You opened the door and entered. He was sitting at his desk, looking at papers. He seemed busy. You saw the calamus pen and papers in his hand and knew you had to make a plan to get the letter before he found it.

When he looked up and saw you, he raised his eyebrows. "Have you decided to be my slave now?"

"Well, Norell is not feeling well. I'm helping her, at least for today." You put the tray down on the table and turned towards him, your gaze fixed on the wooden chest next to him.

"What's wrong? Is she alright?"

"It's a woman's issue that happens every month," you explained.

"Oh, I see," he murmured and returned to his papers.

“May I take a look at your wound? As your medicus, of course.”

"So you will appear to be both my slave and medicus today.” He put the pen on the desk, took the paper in his hand, folded it, stuffed it into the envelope, and sealed with pressing his own seal on the wax.

"I guess I am, for today," your eyes were still on the chest, wondering how to get the letter without him noticing.

His lips curled into a smile. "I feel blessed.”

Acacius stood, wearing a dark purple tunic with gold embroidery on the sleeves and collar. He walked over to his bed and sat on the edge of it, looking at you. You moved closer to him and had to bend down to check on his wound. Looking at him out of the corner of your eye, you put your bag on the bed, a bit away from him who had rolled up his tunic.

As you stood in front of him and leaned over him, he was surprised to feel the light breeze of your hair hit his face. He leaned back a little, but it gave him a better view of your breasts, he swallowed hard making him stunned. Then he turned his head away, even though it was so difficult for him, but he waited patiently. You were no different from him as you checked his wound, oblivious to everything, touching his skin made you tense every time. 

The General's wound was almost healed but you noticed a rash around the cut.

“Do you have any itching or pain, sir?”

“Itching, yes, a little, pain, no.”

There’s pain, thought Acacius, but it's not where my wound is, deep in my chest.

He turned his head towards you again and looked into your beautiful eyes shining like a gem under your long eyelashes, he embraced his pain meanwhile. But it wasn't just it. The general was experiencing a whole range of sensations he hadn't felt in a long time, and it was unlike anything he'd ever fully experienced with a woman. You unintentionally revived memories of his naive and callow youth, but he appeared to find it amusing.

“I need to make an ointment for that-“

But just as you straightened up to reach for your bag, you felt pressure and pain in your neck. Looking down, you realize that the chains of the necklace you were wearing were caught in the trimmings on the collar of the general's tunic, stuck in its threads.

He was taken aback, but perhaps not as much as you were. The expression on your face, as you tried to pull your neck backward in utter shock, made him giggle. Unfortunately, you found it difficult to remain calm and the first thing that came to your mind was to unlock the necklace. So when you reached your hands back behind your neck, you lost your balance and fell on top of him. The General was a trained soldier, with well-developed arm and back muscles and a body that could easily carry such a light load in that position. All in all, he was a man so when you fell and your breasts hit his muscular chest, feeling them beneath the thin fabric, made him fall backward onto the bed.

You gasped as you found yourself in this awkward situation without even realizing how it had happened. With a quick move, you put one hand on the bed to sit up and realized that the other was on the general's chest, you withdrew it and looked at his face to check his reaction. The general looked back at you, his dark brown eyes locked on yours, but you were blinking your eyes in surprise. You frantically tried to stand up, but your necklace, as if mocking you, wouldn't let you. He grabbed your shoulders and stopped you as you struggled over his body. You were making it difficult for him to remain calm with your movements, and he was starting to lose his patience.

“Easy, would you?” He growled. His hands reached behind your neck and he murmured as he unlocked the necklace. "Stay still. I can't restrain myself if you keep moving like this.”

Your face flushed like a crimson hue as you realized what he was talking about, gasped as you felt between your legs, beneath the fabric, a part of his body pressing against your womanhood.

“You really don't know how to behave around a man, you are so careless,” he chastised you.

Once your neck was free from the damn necklace, you stood up quickly, feeling a slight soreness in your neck.

“I've spent more time around men than you think, sir,” you mumbled, rubbing the back of your neck with your hand.

As he removed your necklace from the collar of his tunic, a few threads of the fabric snapped with it. “But you were dressing like them, they didn't know you were a woman,” he corrected you. ‘You have to be careful from now on, especially when you're dressed like this.’

"Forgive me, sir," you said, feeling a little embarrassed to look him in the face.

"Your face is as red as wine," he chuckled, sitting up in bed.

You bit your lower lip and pursed your lips, then went over to your bag and picked it up to make the ointment. The medicine bottles rattled as they came out of the bag, and the general looked at them curiously. "You've been carrying these in your bag all this time?" he asked.

"Yes, sir," you replied, uncapping the green bottle, shaking it, and pouring a few drops into the empty bowl on the tray. As you stirred and softened the ointment with your index finger you murmured, “I made all this myself, but it’s almost ran out.’

“Impressive.”

Once the ointment was ready to be applied, you took the bowl in your other hand and approached the general.

“Sir, I need to apply this ointment to the wound.”

“Careful and don't throw yourself on me this time,” he giggled as he grabbed the hem of his tunic and pulled it up once more.

You swallowed and cleared your throat, trying to stay calm, dipped the tip of your finger into the bowl, took some and applied it to the wound.

"You're making the same mistake again," he teased.

You frowned, not quite understanding what he was saying. You were sure you applied the ointment well, but looks like this was not the issue. When you looked at him, you caught him staring at your breasts. He grabbed your wrist and pulled you to him, his eyes meeting yours. His brown eyes were warm and intense, making your heart melt.

"Never bend over another man like that," he whispers.

As his warm breath brushed against your cheek, your heartbeat quickened. "I-I won't," you stammered.

He released your wrist, and you stepped back and put the bowl on the desk. “It needs to be applied at night too, I think you can handle it,” you said with your back turned. You glanced at the wooden chest out of the corner of your eye. It seemed like you wouldn't have a chance to get the letter, at least not while he was still in his room.

“Yes, I'm grateful,” said the general, standing up and coming over to you taking the bowl and sniffing it.

"The aroma is pleasing; what is this?"

You smiled at him. “Asphodeloideae (aloe vera), sir, it does indeed have a pleasing aroma. It has been demonstrated to accelerate the healing of burns and itching wounds. But I'm afraid it's about to run out, so just use it until it's finished.”

Acacius perched himself on the edge of this desk, looking at you. “Carrying all these bottles in your bag might be a little difficult. Besides, you say you're out of supplies, I will be traveling to the city and subsequently to the barracks tomorrow, would you like to come with me?”

“To the barracks?”

“Absolutely not,” his voice was loud and sharp. “I meant to say, I shall convey you to the city in my carriage, and return for you when I have finished my business.”

Pleased by his offer, “Sir, that would be great, thank you.”

He smiled softly at you and walked over to the table to eat the food you had brought for him. As you grabbed your bag and headed for the door to leave the room, he stopped you by extending his hand.

“Won't you join me?”

You turned your head to him. He pointed to the chair opposite him with his hand. “Have a seat, I need to make sure my medicus has eaten something.”

You smiled, did as he said, putting your bag down. Acacius picked up the wine cup, you reached for the decanter before him.

“Allow me, please.”

He smiled gratefully as you poured the wine from the decanter into his cup.

“You are getting better and better at being a slave, you are willing to fulfill all my needs. Except one.”

You almost spilled all the wine when you met his piercing eyes. You slowly placed the decanter on the tray. While you were calculating what to say, he put his hand on yours which holds the handle of the decanter.

"Don't you have any feelings for me?” He was looking at you from under his eyebrows, eagerly waiting for your answer.

His gaze shifted from your lips to your eyes, you lingered looking into his eyes, even if you said what you felt now, it was very difficult to predict what would happen next. You wondered if he would love you for who you really were.

“It's all so new to me also very hard to say anything for sure. But…"

“But?”

You were trying to think rationally under the influence of his gaze, but you were failing.

“I feel happy when I'm with you, and… I miss you when you're not around,” you admitted, feeling your cheeks burning.

“At least there's a silver lining.” Acacius smiled widely, lifted your hand, and placed a kiss on it.

It was an ordinary day in the streets of Rome, blessed by clear sky and sunshine. The sounds of birdsong were interspersed with those of the rooster. Some people wandered the streets on foot, chatting to each other, while others mounted horses and rode along the stone paths at a pace that caused the hooves of the horses to clatter against the buildings with a distinct echoing sound. The sound of a nearby blacksmith's hammer striking an anvil could be heard in the distance, accompanied by the voices of merchants trying to attract customers to their businesses and draw attention to the goods they were offering for sale. Women often inspected the exhibits before making a purchase and then had their slaves carry them home. Since the clothing and accessories worn by each group reflected their status, it was relatively easy to distinguish between social classes.

You and Norell were walking around the streets in your slave clothes and cloaks to buy something just like other Romans. You still couldn't get used to these clothes. When men and women stared at you, wished you were invisible, as you used to be.

You entered the market street and noticed the large crowd gathered in front of the stalls. There were pots, vegetables, fruits, fabrics, fish, butchers, and plants. The plants, herbs, and flowers on the stalls were very varied and fresh. Once you had purchased what you needed and placed it in your bags, you walked down the street once more, recounting to Norell the events of the previous day and your observations at the Colosseum, as she had requested.

"You know he's in love with you, right?" Norell looked at you suggestively through her yellowish eyelashes.

"Are you talking about the General?

“Is there someone else?" she teased, then inhaled deeply. "I wouldn't be surprised, you're quite attractive."

“Oh, Norell, please," you whined.

“I know you love him too, why are you avoiding my question?"

You smiled shyly, “I’m not sure what I feel. How can you be so sure of his feelings anyway?”

You both waited for a carriage to pass in front of you before crossing the street.

“Because I've known him since I was young and I've never seen the General like this before. Even Tullia is worried, she's angry with you, you know.”

You looked at her with your hazel eyes wide open. “Why? But I didn't do anything wrong, I did everything the General asked.”

Once the carriage had passed, you crossed the street and continued walking along the avenue where the west front of the Colosseum was visible. Norell took your arm.

“I don't know how it was where you come from, but here slaves have to fulfill their master’s every need. So Tullia thinks you’re not obeying him.” You were offended by being treated as a slave, but you couldn't blame her for being unaware of the truth about you. You turned your head to her and kept your voice low. “He said he would not touch me against my will.”

“Oh, that's why he's so upset then.”

You stopped and looked at her. “Upset?”

Her brown eyes looked sad. “Every night before I go to bed, I see him looking deep in thought at his balcony. And during the day, he's there, watching whatever you're doing. It's not like him.”

Was he? Somewhere deep in your chest, you felt a sharp, intense pain.

“Other slaves, the beautiful ones, are raped, killed or sold. Even among the nobles, there are those who are forced into marriage and have to sleep with a man they don't love. I know you've never been touched by a man before and neither have I. But if I found someone who could love me the way he loves you, I would give myself to him.” She blinks at you.

You were absolutely certain of her sincerity, but your situation was quite different from that of other slaves, even from all other Roman women.

“I suppose I should confess my feelings to myself first,” you murmured.

“My Lady!”

You and Norell turned to see who was speaking. You were surprised to see Macrinus standing next to you in his cloak.

"I was hoping to meet you," he said, looking around, then came closer. "But, you are very careless," he said in a low voice. "You attract too much attention."

You couldn't understand what he was saying. "Sir, why do you seem to be hiding?”

"I'm lurking because I've been following you for some time, and luckily I found you without anyone noticing."

"Why did you follow me?"

"We need to talk, but not here. We are too exposed.”

“What's going on, Aya? Who is this man?” You forgot for a moment that Norell was looking at you both in confusion.

Macrinus looked at her and then at you then he turned his head to the street.

“Norell, I'll tell you everything later,” you said, touching her shoulder then turned to Macrinus. “Sir, I don't think it’s the right time-”

He grabbed your arm gently. “You don't realize how much danger you are in, Julia suspects something and it's only a matter of time before she finds you.”

“How do you mean?”

"I'll tell you everything, but right now we need to move." He gestured to you as he walked to the other side of the street, you nodded and pulled Norell's arm, you felt uncomfortable going without her.

"Are you going to tell me what is happening? Who is this man?"

"Trust me and wait, I'll tell you everything at once, I promise."

She wasn't convinced, but she nodded and remained silent.

You and Norell followed Macrinus for a few more streets, maintaining a safe distance from the people around you. It didn't take long for you to notice that the streets were getting quieter. There were fewer people around, and the streets were narrower and more secluded. After passing through a narrow, dead-end street, Macrinus stopped, threw back his hood, and turned to you. When you realized Norell was squeezing your arm, you looked at her. Seeing her looking at a structure at the end of the street, petrified. You turned your head to that direction to find out what was worrying her. It was a large but untidy two-story house. The curtains were blowing out of the windows in the wind, they were all red.

“Gods, it’s…whore house," Norell muttered.

You turned to Macrinus in disbelief. At that moment, two men approached you from down the street, surveyed you both, and continued on their way, laughing.

“I'm sorry, my lady, but this is the safest place to talk.”

"To talk? What are you planning? How could you think I would be in such a place?"

Your voice echoed through the cobbled streets as Macrinus approached you, his expression grave.

"I can't speak to you safely anywhere else, your appearance would draw attention if we were in a tavern or other. But this place is too remote for anyone to think of it, you know what I mean, and nothing will happen to you, the one who runs this place knows me and I trust her."

When Norell grabbed your arm, you moved a little away from Macrinus, closer to the wall.

“Look Aya, I don't know what's going on, but this is not good, if the General finds out about this-.”

"I know. He knows my real family, and I trust him.” You lied. “Don't worry, you go to the place where we'll meet with the carriage and wait for me. I don't want you to go there with me."

"I don't think you should go in there either."

You gave Macrinus a quick look, then turned to Norell. "I know, it won't take long, I promise."

Norell looked at you and Macrinus with concern.

"If you won't be there in time, I'll tell the General everything," she said, sounding more like she wanted Macrinus to hear him. You looked at him in panic, but he didn't look surprised. You knew that moment you had to talk to him, no matter what. You were almost certain that he was planning to threaten the General through you.

Once Norell turned the corner into another alley, you turned to Macrinus. He smiled at you, turned, and walked towards the house. He no longer seemed nervous, as if he comes here, and walks through here often. You, however, were tense, feeling abandoned by Norell's leaving and like you'd put yourself in great danger.

Macrinus lifted the iron knocker of the big wooden door and rapped twice. At that moment, you tensed even more as you heard voices coming from inside, your face flushing red with embarrassment. A short, poorly dressed man opened the door and looked at Macrinus, then at you. When his eyes met yours, you looked away.

"Tell Juturna I'm here."

The man gave you one last look and went inside. Macrinus gestured for you to come in as he moved quickly down the corridor. You swallowed and deliberately ignored the voices as you walked in.

“Did it really have to be here?”

“I'm sorry, I understand why you're uncomfortable, but it really is safer than you think.”

Macrinus smirks, but you grow more and more nervous, everyone here men, and women is almost naked even in the mural pictures dyed on the walls. The voices were getting louder and louder when a middle-aged woman came running towards you. She wore too much make-up and smiled broadly at Macrinus.

"Sire, how good to see you again."

"Private room now."

She tilted her head to look at you with wide eyes, you turned your head and wrapped your cloak tightly around your arms, covering your body. She pressed her hand to her chest, "Gods, it's been years since such a beauty drops in here.”

"Don't overstep your bounds, she's a lady!" Macrinus scolded him.

"Apologies, sire. Have your way to up the stairs and the boys will show you to your room," she said with a grin.

Following Macrinus into the hallway, seeing some young girls, half-naked, talking amongst themselves. As you passed them, they looked at you strangely. You felt sorry for them, but also a bit disgusted.

A young boy gestured to the room, and Macrinus invited you in after he had entered. You were almost startled when the door closed behind you. Looked around quickly to observe, red curtains, orange bedspread and pillows, overturned wine cups and fruits in a bowl on the table, and various colored fabrics on the chairs. And the smell... You couldn't stop thinking about what had happened in this room. It made you feel sick.

Macrinus saw your unease and pulled out the chair for you to sit down.

"Have a seat, my lady."

You gave him a look that said you weren't going to be pushed around and sat down on the chair, crossing your arms to avoid touching anything else. "Tell me what I need to know. I don't have much time."

Macrinus took another wine cup from the other table in the corner of the room, poured wine into, and handed it to you. You made a gesture with the back of your hand and shook your head no.

"Are you afraid of the General?" he asked as he sat down in the chair opposite you. "I know you're staying at his villa. How long has he known?”

"He doesn’t! I can assure you that the General has nothing to do with it.”

Macrinus crossed his legs and took a sip of his wine.

"Of course he does. He'll take you to Geta himself as soon as he finds out."

You thought about him. Would he really do that? You couldn't find the answer, and you hated it.

"The general is a man of honor. He will understand when I tell him."

"Are you saying you can lure him to our side?"

"Our side?" You leaned over the chair towards him, "What is your purpose?"

"It's simple. I'm going to present you to the Senate and get them to recognize you unanimously. You will be formally designated as the heiress to the imperial throne. I really wonder about the emperors’ face when they find out."

Macrinus laughed and took a quick sip of wine.

"How do I know you're not lying to me and you're actually on the emperors’ side at this moment?"

Macrinus narrowed his eyes and looked at you. "I am close to Caracalla. He trusts me." He extended his hand toward you, placing one of the red grapes from the table in it. "I have him right in the palm of my hand, right here, and when the time comes…" He closed his palm and squeezed the grape, the pinkish juice of the grape slowly flowed between his fingers and dripped on the floor. You looked at him in disgust as he ate smashed grapes and licked his own palm.

“And what do you want from me? What will you gain if the Senate recognizes me?”

“I promised your father I would restore peace to Rome, and after he sent you away, he asked me to find Vicius and make sure you were safe. So as I stated before, I went to Egypt to find you, Vicius managed to hide you, he didn't believe me, he was very good at covering his tracks. No wonder he kept you hidden all this time. On the way back, news reached me of your father's death in York, and by the time I got back to the capital, Caracalla and Geta had declared their empire.”

That was four years ago, and it was no coincidence that on that very day, your uncle took you from home to the Valetudinarium in Alexandria. But you still weren't sure whether he had done it to protect you from Macrinus or from your emperor brothers or Julia.

“You said Julia suspected something.”

Macrinus was a man of very calm demeanor; it was hard to tell from his expression what he was thinking. “If Julia finds out you're alive, she'll take your life without a second thought.”

You swallowed hard, you already disliked her when you met her on the day of the ceremony.

“But I'm a woman, I can't be a threat to the throne,” you said looking at him, Macrinus put his cup on the table and leaned forward.

“But if one day you give birth to a son, my lady, you will be the greatest threat of all. She is a woman who keeps the General and her sons in balance, do not underestimate her. She wants Acacius in the Senate, to gain power over me.” He reached for a bunch of grapes and plucked one. “But I have secured my position, and with you we can save Rome from them for good.” He popped a grape into his mouth and smiled at you as he chewed.

“What about the General, what will happen to him?”

He stopped chewing. “He has to choose. But before, he could be charged with treason for hiding you in his villa.”

“No, I told you, there’s nothing like that, he doesn't know about the letter. He doesn't know who I really am,” you yelled at him.

“Do you really think emperors would care about that?”

You knew the answer, your heart began beating in your throat. It wasn't fair that the General should face such an offense because of you.

"If you go to the Senate, there'll be a trial and a judgment, and we'll win. No doubt about it. I'll send the word tonight. The court will convene the day after tomorrow. I can hide you until then," he said, standing up and holding out his hand to you.

You regarded him with a determined expression. "I am grateful for your kindness, but I believe I will be safer with the General, I would like to leave now before he finds me here. Moreover, I am not yet ready to trust you fully."

Macrinus laughed. "My lady, I believe that attitude will serve you well in front of the Senate. It might be beneficial to adopt a similar stance.”

As you left the room, you felt a strong inclination to descend the stairs as quickly as possible, in order to avoid the rather pungent odours and sounds. As you passed the rooms one by one, you heard what seemed to be a cry. Out of the corner of your eye, you thought you saw a face you had seen before. You stopped, and when you wanted to look again to make sure, you turned your head, and lifted the torn red curtain blocking the entrance of the room to see her face. It was her, Decima, the girl you met on the ship and with whom you had the good fortune to become friends. You shared your secrets with her, and you had always assumed that she had been sold to a wealthy man. You hoped that she had been happy until now. You were so wrong. You felt your body trembling as your eyes began to well up with tears.

"Are you all right, my lady?" Macrinus asked, concern evident in his voice which came to you in a blur.

"Decima!" You ran into the room beside her, grabbing her shoulders. She was startled, then looked at you with a surprised look on her face and started to cry. You hugged her and pressed her head to your chest.

"Have you been here all this time?”

She was visibly distraught, and your heart ached for her. "I thought you had forgotten me," she sobbed.

"Never. I thought that nobleman had bought you. What happened?"

"No, he didn't," she mumbled, shaking her head.

Without a second thought you grabbed her arm and pulled her out of the room.

Macrinus stepped in front of you. “My lady, you can't do this, she belongs here now.”

"No way! I'm taking her with me!" You barked and pushed him aside, pulled Decima by the arm ran to the stairs, and kept walking while ignoring the murmuring, and shouting coming behind you.

“Hey! How you? She's my slave, I paid eight thousand sesterces for her!” Juturna, who owned the place got up from her seat and came over to you, she was angry. Two guards at the door came in, blocking your way with a threatening and mocking demeanor.

Macrinus came running behind. “My lady, please, let her go. Those are the rules here. I’m begging you.”

It never felt right, you didn't want to leave Decima there to her fate. Then, someone came running up to Macrinus and whispered something in his ear. He tensed, cursed angrily, and turned his head to you. “Acacius is here. I need to go. Please don't do anything dull,” he warned you. Then he made his way back down the corridor and stepped through the door that led to the rear entrance.

You swallowed hard when you heard the General’s name, you had to think fast, decide fast. Then you opted to follow your heart, rather than your mind. As you grabbed Decima's hand and headed for the door, it opened with a thud and the General stormed in. You both regarded each other with surprise, but his expression soon became one of anger.

“General Acacius, sir!” Juturna approached him.

He didn't hear her, didn't look around, he was as angry as you'd ever seen him, with a piercing gaze that took hold of yours. As he reached out and grabbed your arm, you pulled back with all your strength. But the second time he grabbed again and pulled roughly, you couldn't find the strength to pull back. But you didn't intend to let go of Decima's hand either.

“Sir, please tell her something, she's trying to take my slave.” The woman bowed her head in front of the general and squinted at you.

“She is my friend, please help me, sir,” you said pleadingly.

"I'm a Roman citizen, and this one belongs to me. You clearly don't know the laws. Give her to me now," she said, grabbing Decima's other arm and pulling her along.

“No!”

“Let her go, Aya!” the General roared, but you didn't listen to him. Before you could even think about reaching for Decima, he grabbed your arm again and pulled you to outside, but you struggled with all your strength. The General let out a low growl, and before you knew it, the ground gave way beneath your feet. He grabbed you and threw you over his shoulder. Your face hit the leather armor on his muscular back with a thump, leaving you gasping in surprise. You struggled to get free, but he held on tight, carrying you out.

“No! Let me down! Please!” No matter what you said, it didn't stop him, you tried to lift your head to look at Decima, but when you saw that the door was closed, you got angry.

You started punching his back, but it was like hitting a stone wall. He tightened his muscular arm around the back of your thighs, right near your butt. As he carried you, your loud voice echoed through the whole street. People in the street looked at you curiously as they saw the general had come with you over his shoulder to the carriage. You gave up struggling, and he set you down.

Your hair was a mess, but all you had on your mind was getting back to Decima. He saw you looking back, grabbed your arm, and put you and then himself into the carriage. He ordered the coachman to drive and then he started his horses. He sat you down next to him and never let go of your arm. When the carriage moved, he loosened his grip and turned his head towards you. But you were looking the other way. Norell sitting across from you, her lips tightly closed, so ashamed to look the general in the face, blaming herself. No one spoke the whole way, only the sound of the wheels rolling on the stony ground echoed inside the carriage.

Upon arrival at the villa, Norell regarded the General and you with a timid expression before exiting the carriage. You didn't move, your anger still raw. In the end, your stubbornness made him give up and he got out. "Come out now," he ordered.

He was waiting for you with his hand extended. You inhaled and stood up, but instead of taking his hand, you grabbed the side of the car as you stepped out. You walk briskly into the Villa's garden and leave him behind. As you came into the garden, you saw Tullia and Norell whispering to each other. You glanced at them, and they looked over at the general, who was walking quickly behind you. They seemed tense. As you were heading to your room, a strong hand grabbed your wrist. He pulled you to the stairs this time you didn’t resist. He led you to his room and closed the door.

He turned to you, first his brown eyes met yours and then he calculated what to say or tried to remain calm.

“You will never go there again, do you hear me?”

You glanced over at the balcony, and he stepped a little closer. “How could you go there? How could you put yourself in danger like that? What were you thinking?”

“She's my friend,” you murmured, looking at the setting sun on the horizon through the window.

“Even so, there's nothing you can do for her, the rules apply to everyone.”

“That could have been me,” you turned your head to him. “I could have been one of those poor girls if you-” you swallowed, your voice was trembling.

Acacius' expression softened as he moved closer to you. "I'm truly sorry about your friend, but you need to let it go. I need you to promise me you won't go there again." His brown eyes were bathed in the orangish sunlight streaming through the window. They were looking at you with intensity, delving deeply into your soul. You wondered how you could still be so stubborn, defying him like that. You closed your eyes and crossed your arms, realizing your disobedience, he grabbed your shoulders. "I may be a gentle master to you, but don't even think to test my patience.”

At that moment, the anger that was welling up inside you was trying to get out.

“I am not your slave! I never have been! I'm-”

You almost would tell him everything, but not feeling ready yet, not like this. He was far from being surprised, it’s like he knew you were going to say that.

“As for that, I couldn't find any proof that you were a Roman citizen,” Acacius pulled his hands back, “I recently sent a letter to the governor in Egypt regarding your uncle's funeral. I have received a reply from him today. It seems that he does not have any relatives, only his wife and himself. Interestingly, there is no record of the name Aya.”

It was rather unexpected. You were unprepared for how quickly he discovered the truth. As he approached, you instinctively braced yourself and took a step back. You winced when your back hit the stone wall. Acacius placed his palms on the wall, either side of your head. His brown eyes darkened as he leaned in, almost close enough to kiss you. You placed your hands against the wall behind you, feeling the coolness of the stone in your palms and on your skin, in an attempt to gather your strength. His eyes locked onto yours as if he were questioning you.

“Who are you?”

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[wildechildwrites]

Run, Rabbit

König/Reader

Wordcount: 3.8k

Warnings: 18+, Violence, Injury, Smut, lightly noncon but in the way that you're fighting it but are down, König being insane

No use of Y/N

Summary: You're on a solo mission in Romania, and König goes hunting

A/N: "Oh look another predator/prey coded Konig fic how original" SHUT UP I KNOW

AO3: Run, Rabbit

18+

You’re in the forests of Romania on a solo mission, snooping around an abandoned military base that’s been the location of some suspicious activity, according to your sources. You find the ghost of the for-hire group Kortac in rat-chewed maps and files, faint footprints in layers of dust, but the trail has long gone cold, the building slowly being reclaimed by nature. The trees show no sign of the changes of autumn, but it's in the air, the late summer whisper of a chill in the breeze. You take your time picking your way along the overgrown roads, enjoying the tranquility of the forest. The extraction point is ten clicks west of your position, but you’re content with your steady pace, the sun still high in the sky, shining brightly through the thick foliage, and the hike is an easy one. Your meager findings are carefully folded in your bag of gear, your gun snug on your hip. Ten meters to your right, a red deer raises its head up, watching you warily, before bolting away into the trees. You smile to yourself and raise your face to better feel the sun. 

Nestled low on a hill, large body half buried in the underbrush, König watches you through the scope of his rifle, toying with the idea of killing you. He recognizes you from the files he’s seen on the 141, but there was nothing left at the base for you to find, no reason to draw suspicion and attention back here. You were harmless like this, and magnetic, head tilted towards the sun, your face lit up in a wash of gold light that plays up the color of your hair. His finger brushes lightly across the trigger as he contemplates his options. He rolls his neck loose before glancing through his scope again.

You hear the crack of the shot and drop, but not quickly enough. Your ears ring, your shoulder burning agonizingly, like someone’s pushing a hot poker against it. You fight against the nausea and pain, willing yourself to move, scrambling into the brush for cover. The shot came from your six, and you grapple for your binoculars, trying to locate the shooter on the hill above you. You recognize the mask first, the bleached tear tracks down an executioner's hood, the hulking form of the figure wearing it unfortunately familiar. König is standing casually, seemingly unafraid of any return of fire, staring down like he can see you through the trees. The hairs on the back of your neck prickle instinctually as he begins to move, a sauntering pace down the hill like the slow lope of a wolf. You drop down again, ignoring the pain in your shoulder as you crawl through the underbrush. 

You stop behind a small boulder, pressing your back to it, breathing heavily, and pull your radio off of your hip. “Bravo Six, this is Bravo Seven Four, over.” 

The crackle of the radio is a relief, Price’s voice faint but firm. “Go ahead Bravo Seven Four, over.” 

“Enemies one; direction east of my grid two hundred meters, injury sustained, six clicks out of extraction point, over.” You peek out from behind the rock, but can't see anything, so you continue your crawl, waiting for a response. The birds have stopped singing, a deadly quiet that warns of danger.

“Stay calm Bravo Seven Four–” Price’s voice is cut off by the sound of another bullet whizzing near you. You can’t have your radio giving away your position, and the squad is too far away to reach you before König could. You grab your radio and quickly press the button. 

“Bravo Six, silence, meet at extraction, over.” You turn it off, not waiting for a response, and tuck it back into your belt. Ignoring the growing burning in your shoulder, you move as quickly through the underbrush as you can. You need to cover more ground if you’re going to make it out of here, so you weigh your options, propping yourself into a low crouch, scanning the woods behind you. You can’t see or hear anything. You inhale deeply, then break into a sprint.

The cracking of branches is faint, but König is listening for it, his rifle slung over his shoulder as he searches for you. He immediately changes directions, moving towards the noise and quickening his pace. If you want to run, he’s more than happy to indulge you, relishing the adrenaline of the chase. Your trail is clear, broken branches like a beacon beckoning him closer. He spots blood on one of the low boulders, and swipes it up on his gloved hand, smiling under the mask. 

You're hyper aware of your disadvantage, the sounds of snapping branches as your pursuer draws closer, the sluggish flow of blood down your shoulder from where the bullet grazed you. Your lungs burn, head woozy as you run hard, branches scraping at your form. You risk a look over your shoulder, searching for König behind you, and your heart drops when you miss a step. 

All of a sudden, you're falling, hands stretched out in front of you as you tumble down a steep hill. You hear and feel the snap of your ankle in your boot, a whimpering sob yanked from your chest as you finally land heavily in some thorn covered bushes, branches scratching your body even through the thick fabric of your uniform. You pull yourself out, ignoring the pain as thorns drag against your face, drawing blood, then scan yourself quickly, the prognosis bleak. You can't run, not with what is definitely a broken ankle, and your shoulder is still oozing freely, but you won’t go down without a fight. You drag yourself through the dirt using your good arm, stopping periodically to listen to the sounds of König moving through the trees. Your entire body burns, and you fight against the growing fatigue that’s threatening to overwhelm you, trying to hold onto your quickly waning adrenaline. 

The sound of breaking branches draws nearer. He’s moving faster, heavy footfalls that make your leg muscles twitch with the urge to run. König whistles, high and loud, and you reach for your gun, cocking it as quietly as you can, turning around to face the direction of the noise, crouching low. Your heart pounds in your chest, fear creeping in, the weight of your situation crashing down on you.

“I heard you cry out,” a voice rings through the trees. There's something light in König’s tone, like this has all been a game of tag. “You can't be too far.”

Then the only sound is the breeze, rustling in the leaves. Blood from a cut on your forehead drips into your eye, and you resist the urge to wipe it away, scanning your surroundings as best you can without moving.

The unwelcome feeling of the muzzle of a gun presses against the side of your head, and your body shudders involuntarily. 

“Drop your weapon, Häschen,” König murmurs. You comply immediately, tossing it at his feet, unwilling to argue with a Beretta at your temple. The large man quickly kicks your gun into the bushes. “Sit up,” he commands, and you move slowly, trying not to aggravate your broken bone. 

You knew he was large, but kneeling at his feet he feels like a goliath, towering over you, the gun held in his grip looking comically small in his giant hands. He holsters it, and you get a stupid, moronic, brilliant idea. In a quick motion, you’ve ripped your radio off of your belt, pressing down on the button and bringing it to your lips. “MAYDAY MAYDAY MAYDAY–” König slams the heel of his palm into the back of your head, and the world goes dark.

The small shack hasn’t been used in a while, the table in the center of the room is covered in dust, and spiders have made their home in the corners, spinning silvery streamers that hang down, brushing against his helmet. König places you lightly on the small bed in the corner, stooping over uncomfortably in the low room. Your hair is full of sticks and leaves, your face scraped and bleeding. He needs to look at your shoulder, and the ankle you’d been hovering over protectively, but work comes first. You’ve thrown him off, his fingers tingling where he held you to him, the phantom pressure of your head on his chest as he carried your unconscious body through the woods haunting him even now. He grabs your gear bag, dumping it unceremoniously onto the table, pulling your medkit to the side before rifling through the papers you’d found. The information was outdated, but he shoves the papers into one of the pockets of his pants for disposal later regardless.

He doesn’t bother stripping you properly, just takes his knife and slices it up through the collar of your shirt, baring your shoulder to him. His eyes, unbidden, trace the line of the now exposed column of your throat, and he swallows loudly in the quiet of the room. König draws his attention back to your injury with some difficulty. He barely even grazed you, the puckered wound bleeding sluggishly, and he quietly gloats at his own aim. When he pours alcohol on it, you awaken with a hiss, throwing your arm out hard in his direction reflexively before your brain catches up with you. He deflects you easily, wrapping large fingers around your wrist, enjoying the feeling of the delicate bones, watching with silent smugness as your confusion reads clear on your face. 

“Guten tag,” he says, pleasantly casual, as though you’ve run into him at the grocery store. Your head is pounding, and you’re thrown, trying to grasp your surroundings. Your shoulder is burning, and you’re suddenly aware of the air on your bare skin. You rip your hand out of his grasp, pulling yourself as far away from him on the small bed as you can manage. He tilts his head, studying you. 

“What are you doing?” You ask, your voice hard. 

König gestures with the alcohol he’s holding. “I’m patching up your injuries.” His voice is low, his accent curling around the syllables of his sentences like smoke. 

You blink at him, utterly disarmed. “Why,” you pause, biting your cheek as a wave of pain radiates through your ankle, “Are you patching up my injuries?” 

“Would you prefer it if I left them?” He volleys back lightly, tilting his head. 

You don’t say anything, staring at him with suspicion. He’s got you cornered, quite literally, and there’s no way you can get away from him with your ankle like this unless you can get your hands on a weapon. There’s a knife tucked in your boot, but you can’t exactly pull it out subtly. His beretta is on his hip, his rifle is leaning against the table, but you’d be lying to yourself if you thought you had a chance in hell of reaching either before he could. 

 König takes your silence for compliance and goes back to dabbing your wound with alcohol. You flinch when he places his hand on you, and he makes a dissatisfied noise in the back of his throat. “Such a nervous little rabbit.” The mask conceals his expression from you, but you can hear the frown in his voice. 

“You shot me,” you respond dryly. “Doesn’t exactly foster trust.” 

 “Just a scratch. I could’ve killed you, if I wanted to.” He shrugs, a casual movement that’s unintentionally intimidating, your eyes on the way his shoulder muscles move beneath the layers of clothing he wears. 

You spend your time with large men, the boys of your team all averaging above six feet, but König is just startlingly gigantic. You scan his torso, eyes tracing across the wide planes of his chest, lingering too long to be decent. You catch yourself and drop your gaze down to your hands. “If you don’t want to kill me, what do you want?”

“I want to know what you are doing here.” His tone is still pleasant, but interrogative. His fingers are deliberate, surprisingly gentle as he bandages your shoulder, but there’s an unspoken thread of tension in the air. 

“Chasing shadows.” You respond, your voice equally mild. You know he looked through your pack and probably found the papers. You wonder if he thought it was ironic that you came sniffing after KorTac, just to run right into him. You certainly did.

You’re much more docile when he patches up your ankle, an uneasy truce between the two of you. You sit still as he splints it, legs draped almost intimately over his lap, his large fingers curled around your injured leg, gentle pressure holding you steady as he works. He adjusts his hold, squeezing lightly on the meat of your calf, and your breathing stutters. His eyes flick to yours, something dangerous in their expression, and you hold his gaze as you deliberately drag your uninjured leg closer to you, your boot trailing across König's upper thighs intentionally. His eyes slip close at the sensation, just for a moment, and that's when you act, yanking your knife out of your boot and sinking it into his thigh and launching yourself to the floor. He lets out a snarling cry, and you scramble up, your vision going white from the pain of your ankle, but you push through it, sprinting out of the shack. 

You can't run properly, reduced to a hobble that's made all the more difficult by the fact that you're on uneven terrain in the quickly growing dark. You need to figure out your location and find a way to contact your team, but you’re disoriented and disarmed. You haven’t made it more than a few meters when you hear the sound of the front door slam open. You pick up the pace, trying to put as much distance between you and the very angry Austrian hot on your trail. 

“Häschen,” König’s voice rings through the trees, and a trickle of fear runs through you. You duck behind a tree, pressing yourself against it firmly, trying to blend in with the darkness. 

He can hear you breathing, light and quick, and he doesn’t even try to disguise the heavy sound of his footsteps as he closes in on you. He whips around the tree you’re cowering against, and you try to bolt, but he wraps his fingers around your bicep, yanking you back, slamming his hands above your head, trapping you against the tree. 

“Always trying to run away,” he snarls, shoving his body against yours. He thrusts his uninjured thigh between your legs, pinning you further, and you let out an unintentional gasp at the sudden pressure of hard muscle against your core. König instantly pulls away, his eyes shooting down to your ankle with concern, before dragging slowly up your body, his gaze accusatory.  

“You like this,” he says, and you shake your head desperately. 

“I don’t–” he interrupts any denials you might have, deliberately grinding his thigh in between your legs. You clench your teeth against the noise it draws from your throat. 

He leans impossibly closer, your noses almost brushing through the hood he wears. “Did you like the chase as well?” His voice is a husky rumble, full of heat, and you have to bite back a whine. “I liked the chase.” You realize the hard length against your stomach isn't his Beretta, and an unwanted spike of arousal shoots through you in response.

“You’re insane,” you snap, grappling for some semblance of control over the building pleasure in your core. König pulls away from you abruptly, and you flush at how wet you are, soaking through your underwear. 

“How about a game, Häschen?” his voice has lost its edge, back to the pleasant tone he used in the shack, and your head spins at the sudden change.  “I'll give you five minutes to run or hide, and if you can make it ten minutes without me finding you, I’ll take you to your extraction point myself, safe and sound.”

Your heart races. You don’t trust him, but there's no way you'll get another chance to get away from him. “And if I can’t?” You ask. 

He says nothing, just purposefully presses his hard cock against your center. Traitorous want flows through you.

You know you’re fucked, but you scramble through the darkness as quickly as you can, trying to find a good place to hide. If your ankle wasn’t broken, you’d climb a tree, but you’re stuck searching for ground cover, listening with mounting paranoia to the quiet noises of the forest. You’re a celestial body pulled unwillingly into König’s orbit; collision unavoidable.

You hear him coming, branches breaking as he stalks towards you. You stand as straight as you can, letting him approach you, his eyes bright in the dim of twilight. When he comes within range, you lunge for his gun, almost succeeding in yanking it out of the holster before he grabs you around the waist and pulls you to the ground, pinning you roughly beneath him. 

Even as he manhandles you, you're hyper aware of the delicate way he avoids putting any weight near your injured shoulder. He's got your legs splayed around him, but he's careful, adjusting you just so, keeping your ankle tucked safely away, angled so he won't jostle it. His hips press obscenely against your ass, and you can't help arching your back into him, begging for his cock even as you swear at him.

“Get the fuck off of me,” you spit, and he just laughs, an off-putting, mean sound, before reaching around and ripping open your pants. The button pops off, and the zipper teeth split forcefully apart as he shoves a hand into your underwear. 

“Complain all you want, Häschen, but you're soaked for me,” he coos into your ear, roughly rubbing your clit. You moan at the contact, and he moves his hand lower, pressing his palm against your clit before shoving a finger into your wet center, roughly splitting you open. You gasp at the sudden stretch, König giving you no time to adjust as he pulls his finger out for a moment and plunges it back in, moving in and out at a punishing pace.

“Tell the truth.” He orders, adding a second finger. He curls them, stroking your inner walls, bullying you open until he finds the spot that makes you see stars.  “Say you want me to fuck you.” 

You're beyond words, making a derisive noise that transforms into a whine as you move your hips back, driving König's fingers deeper, your ass rubbing against his clothed erection. All you can focus on is the press of his body against yours, his fingers unspooling you, pulling you apart as he pants along with you. The tension is building, the knot in your stomach tightening as König forces you closer to the edge. 

He pulls his fingers out abruptly, leaving you devastatingly empty and unsatisfied, and you let out an anguished whimper despite yourself. He pushes your pants roughly down around your thighs, and the purr of his zipper opening makes you clench reflexively around nothing. 

He presses right against your entrance, a breath away from splitting you open on his cock. You shove your hips back, trying to fuck yourself onto him, and he pulls back. “Say you want this,” he demands. 

“Fuck. You.” You snarl, even as your thighs tremble. He drags the head of his cock up through your folds, coating himself in your wetness, and you gasp. 

“Such spirit,” he murmurs. In a single motion, he sinks into you, splitting you in open, pulling the air from your lungs. 

He thrusts into you fast and hard, like he wants to tear you open, and it hurts, even with how soaked you are. You cry out, trying to squirm away from the pain. His fingers find your clit again, his breath hot in your ear. He dwarfs you, your legs shaking from pleasure and the weight of him on top of you, pressing you into the dirt. 

“You wanted this.” His voice is a panting snarl, his talented fingers stealing your senses as he forces you closer to your orgasm. The sound of skin slapping against skin fills the forest air as he pounds into you without mercy. “Say it.” 

“I want this,” you whimper. You feel the shocking whisper of his lips against the junction of your neck and shoulder and realize with a start that means he’s not wearing his hood. All thoughts are shoved out of your head as he sinks his teeth into your skin, and you wail as you snap, the sensation dragging you over the edge, your body trembling as you cum. His thrusts become sloppy, his cock twitching inside you as he shoves his hips against yours, filling you up. He stays like that, flush against you, as his dick softens, keeping you full and trapped under him. 

You lay in the dirt panting, hollowed out and raw. There are pine needles prickling against your skin, soreness awakening in your limbs as you come back to yourself. König climbs off of you, still cognizant of your injuries, and pulls you into his lap, wrapping his arms around you like a lover, the brutality melting into tenderness like watercolor. His hood is back in place, and the world comes crashing down around you as your senses return, the weight of your actions pulling you down as regret and shame bubble under your skin. 

König notices your eyes glazing over, the warble of your chin, and reaches up a large hand to cradle your face, wiping away tears you didn't realize were threatening to fall. “Hush bunny, you did so well,” he croons down at you, his saccharine actions thrown in high relief against how violently he handled you before. “Such a good girl for me.”

The walk to the extraction point is silent. König holds you cradled against his chest; your hand fisted in the front of the vest he wears. His thigh burns, his entire body consumed with exhaustion, but he clenches his jaw against the pain, focusing instead on your face, turnt up towards him, open and vulnerable, eyes rimmed with red. If he was a better man, he'd be sorry. 

He sets you down gently on a large rock, and pulls your knife out of a hidden pocket, his hand raised in a placating gesture as he slowly places it beside you. It’s still got his blood on it, dried to rust on the tip. You don’t reach for it, pulling your uninjured leg up and wrapping your arms around yourself. You look even smaller than you did before. 

He straightens his spine against the odd sensation in his chest. “Tell your captain to keep a closer eye on his men,” He orders, then reaches out a hand, hovering just above your cheek bone. Neither of you bridge the gap.  

You watch him disappear into the trees, the shadows swallowing him whole, the sound of a helicopter in the distance.

[virgil-anon]

WIP Tag Game

Thanks for the tag @sri-verse

I'm tagging: @catjar91 and @wretchedanddivinee

This is a snippet of the first part of chapter 10 of a touch of fate (I'm currently editing this chapter)

Cedric found himself falling into an easy routine here, so easy in fact, that he barely noticed when a month had gone by. Time was racing by, which was ironic, because time wasn’t something they had a lot of, not if they wanted to complete their mission.  He knew this wasn’t his original time, his original life, but he was comfortable here. He would always miss his father and his friends, but he found comfort and companionship with his family in this time, and with Harry. The friends he was making here were both similar and different from his friends back home. His House was so familiar that it felt like coming home.  Dividing his time between Harry, his friends, quidditch, and classes, he was fairly busy. Not too busy, however, to notice that a certain Black was watching him. It started last night during Astronomy. Cedric had noticed Alphard in the class before (since so many students dropped it after fifth year, their classes were combined), usually sitting close to the other Slytherins, but he hadn’t thought much of it. After all, he’d resolutely ignored him after Cedric offended him during quidditch tryouts.  But last night he’d been staring at Cedric more often than the stars. Cedric couldn’t say he knew the oldest Black boy, but he seemed to love Astronomy (as did the rest of his family). He didn’t think he was more interesting than celestial bodies, but he assumed this was something he was put up to. Harry told him Alphard had been following and watching him all of the sudden, and they both knew who was the mastermind behind that.  That was just as well, since he’d been looking for an excuse to talk to him again, anyway.  The library was mostly empty during Cedric’s free period on Thursday. He chose a table in the middle of the room, so when Alphard walked into the library he could see him immediately, and vice versa.  He wasted some time in the nearby stacks, but Cedric knew he was watching him. Although, he didn’t draw attention to him, but instead kept working on his potions essay. Slughorn was a much nicer person than Snape, but he still graded with the same level of harshness and high expectations.  Cedric was so engrossed in his work that he hadn’t noticed when Alphard finally joined him, pulling out the chair across from him. He glanced up and smiled. “Hey, Alphard.”  “Diggory,” he replied, voice stiff and terse.  Oh no, that wouldn’t do at all. He leaned forward, folding his arms over his book. “I have a first name, you know, that I’d rather you use.”  “That’s rather informal,” Alphard replied. “We barely know each other.” Cedric shrugged. “I’m not forcing you to speak with me. Why sit with me if you wish to remain so formal?” He asked, voice laced with faint amusement.  Alphard bristled. “Don’t flatter yourself on my behalf. What if I’m not here for you?”  Cedric couldn’t help but chuckle. He reminded him a bit of Cho, with their similar raven hair (albeit Alphard had pretty curls as opposed to Cho’s straight hair), fair skin, and their studious yet shy nature. He glanced down—yes, down, since Alphard was also short, around Cho’s height, the top of his head reaching his chin—and grinned.

[eternally-tired-muffin]

me 🤝 akaashi: not working when we should be

[carnivalcarriondiscarded]

spontaneously starts scribbling him Differently Every Time

[kazzastark]

I love the end piece of this drawing but the sketch looks so good too

Timelapse ⬇️ (flip phone for the video)

[sysig]

Why, is he so pretty (Patreon)

Bonus Max ♥

[navree]

to be clear, i'm not angry about pretty boy slade wilson at all, if clark is just starting out then bruce has probably only been at it for a couple years himself, and dick is definitely still flipping about at haly's with his totally alive not ever gonna die parents and a good few years from slade deciding that his archnemesis needs to be a teenager from the most insane family in all of north america, it makes sense that slade so far is a young man still fulfilling mercenary contracts and other things like that and still in the relative flush of youth

also again, the way they drew him was hot, if this is how slade's anime twink phase goes i'm not mad about it

[enhanced-operatives-division]

i would love to hear about the ollie and handler crack ship here’s a silly doodle as well

LOVE THE DOODLE YOU SEE THE VISION!!!

Also this got my ass to design Ollie so:

(Love him - Also redesigned Reggie for this too so thanks!!)

And idk if it's moreso a crackship or a rarepair that only works in an AU (HACKS up Starstruck), but Reggie's line of "...and I hope Ollie made it out too. I hope a lot of things." It's totally me reading into it but like,,,,I want them to talk because Ollie is not dead to me in my heart of hearts.

Maybe the only change is like Reggie taps into the communication on the radio in Hot Water instead of using the earpiece, so Ollie ends up hearing him also? And they end up getting along really well (with Reggie having to jump through a couple hoops to be like "haha what agency..."). There's an Agency base in the South-East coast of Australia and maybe the Agency ends up adopting him after he washes up on the shore with the escape pod (after HEAVY questioning).

Alas take a doodle of my own:

Transcript (it's just canon lines):

Ollie: "She's being controlled, it's not her fault."

Reggie: "Agent, I have 0 experience dealing with giant security squids."