#we die like papa

[ghostedghouls]

make it hurt

✢ in an attempt to save himself from more hurt, dew decides to hurt swiss the only way he knows he can.

✢ pairing: Swiss x gn!reader / Dew x Swiss (not romantically)

✢ genre: angst

✢ warnings: manipulation, dew is an asshole, trauma, swiss has a dark past, mentioned murder, hurt/no comfort, dew has issues i dont blame him

✢ a/n: the romantic pairing is reader x swiss, but the story focuses more on dewdrop/ dewdrop x swiss because I wanted to explore this dynamic (and also hurt swiss whoops). Also this got way longer than i wanted it to be so maybe i’ll have to do a part 2 bc i cant stand bad endings :( | not beta read sorry

Dew was known for being the most difficult of the ghouls. He was known for his temper and anger, the heated arguments and the venom in his words.

Dew was known for his low blows.

The other ghouls knew that Dew hardly meant the things he said in a fit of anger and rage. At first the words had stung. The fire ghoul had a talent for finding the most hurtful words and digging deep, reaching for things he knew would provoke a reaction from the others; preferably anger or hurt. And oh boy, was it hurtful at times.

But the better the ghouls got to know him, the more they learned not to take the words to heart, no matter how hard it was at times. They knew it was his way of protecting himself, his way of making sure the other person stopped digging into him, stopped prying open old wounds. It was his way of making sure nobody would ever break down the walls that he so carefully had built around himself.

But even though the ghouls tried to not let the words get to them, they always eventually did. Dew knew how to get under their skin, tear open their wounds so his own could stay closed. A low blow from Dew would usually end the argument, the other ghoul too angry, shocked or hurt to continue the conversation.

But not with Swiss. Not today.

Swiss stood his ground as the fire ghoul spat insult after insult at him. His arms were crossed in front of his broad chest as he listened to the never-ending stream of words, carefully picked out by the smaller ghoul to dig into Swiss’ insecurities and worries. But Swiss saw through Dew easily. He knew that he was trying to deflect from his own worries and traumas. So he stood there and took the verbal abuse because he knew Dew didn’t mean it. Never did.

Swiss was by far one of the hardest ghouls to truly anger. He was very forgiving, especially with the smallest ghoul. He tended to laugh things off or talk things out right away as to not leave an argument unresolved. If the other ghoul thought about it, he had never seen Swiss even remotely angry. There were times where he seemed pissed off but never really angry.

“Are you done yet, firefly?” The nickname sounded sour on Swiss’s tongue and Dew almost visibly recoiled. But he knew better than to show a reaction. He had to be indifferent, hide that he was vunerable. But the comment had thrown him off and his brain short-circuited long enough for Swiss to finally get a word in.

“You stand here and go about your little spiel like you always do, Dew. But we both know you don’t mean it. You can curse and scream at me all you want; it won’t change a thing. There wasn’t even a real argument to begin with. You got your fragile ego hurt and now you’re foaming at the mouth like a rabid animal.”

Dewdrop growled at that. Low in his throat as his tail swished angrily behind himself. It was true, and that was what angered the fire ghoul the most. Satanas, Dew had already forgotten what the whole argument was even about. He was only arguing for the sake of getting Swiss off his tail. To hurt the multi ghoul so that he wouldn’t end up being hurt himself. The other ghoul was entirely too calm for his liking and it scared Dewdrop. It scared him that he didn’t have control of the conversation. It scared him that Swiss knew exactly what he was trying to archive. Scared him that he was so fucking vunerable in front of someone after he had sworn himself to never be open like that again. He opened his mouth to say something he knew would hurt Swiss, but the other ghoul was faster to speak.

“Do you know what I think? I think you’re getting so defensive because you know I am right. You know you don’t even mean a single thing you say to us all the time. Because you’re scared to let someone - for once in your goddamn life - into that head of yours. Because you’re so fucking scared that if you let someone in, they will tear you down from the inside. Because you know you couldn’t take that again.” Swiss’s words seemed harsh but he was calm, somewhat encouraging even.

But Dewdrop was seething where he was standing. He felt like he was vibrating with anger. His fists were balled up so tightly, he could feel the sharp claws dig into his own flesh. His fangs were clenched so tightly, he was afraid they would break off under the pressure. If he’d had just a little less self control, he would have launched himself at the multi ghoul and ripped into him with claws and teeth. Copia and the clergy be damned. They would send him back to the pit for killing another ghoul, but he couldn’t care less in that moment.

Where did the multi ghoul get the audacity to dig into Dew’s head like that? Rip him open piece be piece and present him with his own thoughts. It sent him into a frenzy.

In that moment Dewdrop felt truly lost. There was no thing he could say to Swiss to make him stop, to make him leave. Dew nearly choked on his own spit. His throat felt tight as he tried to swallow. It became apparent that the fire ghoul wasn’t the only one who knew how to hurt others deeply.

Dew bared his fangs at Swiss and hissed. It wasn’t intentional, a leftover instinct from the pit that was generally considered bad manners by the higher clergy members. Swiss stood calmly but his tail jerked once, showing that he wasn’t immune to the feral display of agression from his bandmate.

And with a last growl, Dewdrop turned on his heel and left Swiss standing in the hallway. He felt humiliated and hurt. He was never the one to leave an argument, had never lost to the others. In his mind he was thinking of a thousand things he could do to hurt Swiss. The argument might have been over, but he wouldn’t - no, couldn’t - let the multi ghoul get away with this. He had to do something that would truly and utterly destroy the taller ghoul.

-

He was still seething as he stumbled through the clergy hallways. A few siblings he came across had fled once they saw him. Good, he thought, at least he was still respected by the siblings. They would never dare to talk to him the way Swiss did. Would never dare to pry into his head like that. They knew they couldn’t because he would rip them to shreds if they tried. Just like how he should have done with dear Swiss, he thought angrily, his fists clenched again.

He marched through the hallways for a little longer before something caught his eyes. And suddenly it felt like he was presented with a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity sent by the hellish father lucifer himself.

You.

How had Dewdrop not thought of that before? Swiss’s little romance he had going on with you. It was still fresh, long months of ‘will-they-won’t-they’ finally turned into little kisses and shared nights. And that turned into actual feelings. Swiss had never officially told you how he felt, Dew knew that, but he could smell it on the multi ghoul. And he could smell it on you too. With renewed vigor (and anger) he walked up to you. 

Should he grab you and hurt you? Should he leave your body bloodied with bitemarks and drag you back into the ghoul den? The smell of your blood would be so overwhelming it would surely sent the multi ghoul into overdrive. A perverted satisfaction spread through Dew’s body at the thought. The satisfaction of truly hurting Swiss in the most horrible way he could. To finally make the multi ghoul snap. Because with anger Dew could work. Anger he knew how to handle. But no, he thought. That was too risky. It would get him a ticket straight back to hell from the clergy. And it wouldn’t hurt enough. Wouldn’t dig deeply enough into Swiss’ heart.

It was like a light went off above the fire ghoul’s head as you turned around, smiling at him as he approaced you. He tried to keep his face stoic, to not let a toothy smile shine through as he finally decided how to wreck Swiss.

“Dewdrop.”, you said warmly, “Is there something I can do for you?”

“No. I just wanted to check in how you were.”, he said, feigning worry.

“Oh um.. thank you, I am fine- why? Is there something I should be worried about?”, you asked confused.

“I just thought after the whole thing with Swiss... y’know. That you might be hurt...” Oh satanas, it felt so incredibly good. Dewdrops eyes nearly rolled back into his skull as you very clearly took the bait.

“What thing with Swiss? Did something happen?” you were starting to grow worried and Dewdrop nearly laughed at how pathetic it was.

“Oh no... he didn’t tell you yet, then. I’m sorry, I just thought he would have told you by now. Seeing how you two are pretty serious now I assumed he did tell you.” He let out a dramatic sigh. “But I guess he will tell you when he’s ready.... I just hope that’s soon - wouldn’t want you to get into a relationship with him under false pretences, right?”

You eyes grew wide with confusion and worry and as Dewdrop decided to slowly turn around and act as if he was going to leave, you quickly grabbed his arm to make him stay.

“Please.” you breathed out “What is going on? What do you mean with ‘false pretences’?”

“It’s not my place to tell you. He should tell you himself. It is a pretty big thing after all.” Dewdrop knew he already had you. He was only trying to make this even worse once shit hit the fan. He had to make sure you would talk to Swiss about it, maybe even end things with him. Oh satanas, how priceless the look on his face would be. He’d deserve it.

“I’m begging you to please tell me what you mean.”, you anxiously begged the fire ghoul who sighed in return as if he was doing this against his will.

“I thought he trusted you enough to tell you himself but maybe he doesn’t quite yet. It’s only understandable given his past, of course.” You were eating everything up Dewdrop was saying. And the best thing was, he didn’t even need to lie. Didn’t need to make things up about the multi ghoul because it was all true. Dewdrop leaned against the wall next to him before starting;

“Swiss wasn’t actually summoned with the rest of the ghouls. Not many people know this because he worked in the shadows most of the time. I just saw him occasionally while I was still working with Terzo.” The words tasted bitter in his mouth. The hurt still there, still fresh. “He didn’t eat with the other ghouls, didn’t spend time with the other ghouls. It was like he was kept away from the rest of the clergy at all times. I always wondered what his job was. There are no ghouls in the clergy that serve no purpose, so I was curious. I, myself, only got to know the truth recently.”

It was true. Dew thought back to the evening that Swiss had confessed. He had never seen him cry like that before. Had always assumed Swiss had no baggage, no hurt inside of him. But that evening, Swiss had sobbed as he told his mates about his jobs before the band. Explained how he had done the dirty work, had killed siblings and ghouls alike. Without ever questioning anything. How he had been the perfect killer all along. The other ghouls had been taken aback and the following days - even if they didn’t mean to - they had avoided Swiss. Those days had wrecked the multi ghoul horribly, to the point where he didn’t leave his room, not even to eat.

In the end they managed to talk things out. Nobody was truly mad at Swiss or scared of him. For fucks sake, they all were ghouls. They had all killed before. They just hadn’t expected something like this from chill, laidback Swiss. Swiss hadn’t asked them to keep it a secret but given his reaction the first time he confessed, it was pretty clear he didn’t want anyone else to know. This is why Dew knew his plan would work. He knew it would absolutely obliterate Swiss to be confronted with this part of his past again, especially if it came from you.

“Well it seems-... oh, I really don’t know if I should tell you this. You’re gonna be hurt.”, Dew tried to sow worries and it worked. “I need to know.”, came from you in almost a whisper.

“Well, there were certain ghouls that... did the clergy’s dirty work. I mean, it only makes sense to summon ghouls to do it, don’t get me wrong. And it just so happened to be our dear Swiss.”

“Dirty work?”, you asked, more in disbelieve than in not-understanding.

“Getting rid of unwanted people. Outside and inside the clergy. The perfect killer. Ghouls leave no traces behind as you know. Swiss does have some chompers on him, I will not lie...”

You gasped and Dew watched carefully as you stared in disbelieve. “But don’t worry. He would never hurt you!” Dew hesitated for a bit. “Probably, anyways. What do they say again; you can take the ghoul out of hell but you can’t take hell out of the ghoul?” He faked a laugh at the lame joke. A real smile crept on his lips as he watched you stare into space with furrowed brows, clearly worried about what you had just learned about your lover.

Dew knew he had to make the finale count, so he faked a worried face as he gently grabbed your shoulder. “I do need you to be careful though. Swiss was dangerous in the past, following orders blindly just because he was told to. He killed ghouls and siblings, some of which he worked with. He had no morales. I’m just confused that he hasn’t told you about this yet... I’m worried about what that means. He is a ghoul. You can’t forget that. A demon from the pit, summoned to fulfill a task.” Dewdrop stood taller as his hand fell off your shoulder. “He’s in the band now but we can’t be sure he isn’t still following some of his former orders.” That was the only lie. Swiss had promised that he had been released from that position ages ago, had sworn to his mates that he was telling the truth. And Dew knew it had been the truth... but you didn’t need to know that.

The guitarist left you standing in the hallways, your eyes shimmering with unshed tears of disbelief and sadness.

-

That evening Dewdrop sat in the common room. He listened to the muffled voices behind Swiss’ bedroom door. You two had been talking - arguing - for close to two hours. Dew was the only one left sitting there, all the other ghouls had left at one point, the atmosphere in the den too suffocating to bear.

When you had stumbled into their den a few hours ago, your energy had immidiately alerted all the ghouls. They had raised their heads as they watched you walk into the common area. Swiss was the first to approach you - of course he was. The energy you gave off must’ve been excruciating for the multi ghoul. The fire ghoul still felt the anger deep in his chest, barely any less than before. He wasn’t like Swiss, he didn’t forgive that easily. And Swiss deserved this. Deserved to be hurt just how Dewdrop had been hurt.

The multi ghoul knew something was off, so he lead you into his room without a word. You hesitated for a bit, worried. And Dew almost smirked as he watched you stand in the doorway of Swiss’ room. You looked back over your shoulder to the small ghoul.

-

You entered your lover’s room, closing the door behind yourself gently. The multi ghoul approached you slowly, gently reaching for your hands, encouraging you to tell him what was wrong. But as his hands brushed yours, a jolt rushed through you. Not a jolt of excitement, lust or happiness. No, this felt different. This was fear.

Hurt flashed across Swiss’s face as you moved your hands away from his reaching ones. And as you took a step back to increase the distance between your bodies, he felt like he would die right then and there.

“What’s going on, sweet cheeks?”, the taller ghoul asked, concern lacing his soft voice.

You didn’t speak for a second. Your head hung low, facing the floor, but Swiss could see the lines between your brows nontheless. His stomach twisted itself in knots as he just observed you for a second. Your hands were fidgeting with the hem of your shirt and your posture was defensive, closed-off. And the way you smelled - it felt like a punch to the gut to Swiss. Fear, concern, worry, hurt.

“You don’t have to tell me what’s wrong right now, but is there anything I can do to help y-” - “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Swiss was the one to take a step back this time. “What do you mean?”

“I deserved to know!” You raised your head and there were tears in your eyes. Not yet spilled but they were there and Swiss felt helpless.

“What are you talking about? Did I do something? Did you change your mind about... us?”

“No! I mean yes- no... I just-”, you stumbled through the words clumsily, not even knowing what exactly you were trying to say.

“When were you going to tell me you killed for the clergy?”

Swiss felt the breath being knocked out of him, his heart stopped for a second, a searing pain rushing through his chest before the organ stumbled into a rushed rhythm. His mouth hung open, his ears ringing. It was like his worst nightmare came true, and it was happening right now in front of him. He watched as the first tears fell and you whispered “So it’s true.”. The multi ghoul felt like he needed to throw up, his chest heaving and his tail erratic behind him.

Your eyes truly took him in then; The claws at his sides, the tail behind him, the grey skin, the tiniest peek of his fangs, the sharp ears and the golden eyes that shone through the slits of the silver mask. Those hands - those claws - that had caressed you many nights, had softly ran through your hair or across your skin, were the same ones that had the blood of so many people on them. His teeth, usually nipping you gently, had ripped out throats and limbs before. Had hurt and killed. murdered.

You swallowed thickly as a new wave of fear rushed through you. What were you doing? In the room alone with a killer and confronting him about it? If the things Dewdrop had said were true, then there was no way of knowing that he wouldn’t do it again. Your investigation in the library about those ‘special ghouls’ just before you got here, didn’t help either.

Swiss felt the instant shift from hurt to fear in you. He felt it deeply in his body and it itched at his insides. Satanas, he wanted to claw at himself, get rid of that feeling, rip it out from his insides.

He only recently had told the other ghouls about his past and the days following had been excruciating for him. It had created a rift in their relationship for a while. And even though everything seemed alright now, he knew they still thought about it from time to time. But they had been understanding, because they were also ghouls, because they had done similar things. He couldn’t expect the same understanding from you. A human.

Swiss watched your form shake as you cried silently and in that moment he wanted to die. He wanted to rush to Copias office and have himself be sent back to hell. Either by ritual or by a dagger to the heart.

As he started speaking, his own tears fell, his body rocking with sobs as he watched his relationship crumble in front of him.

-

Dew had felt a sick satisfaction as he listened carefully to what was being said. The two of you weren’t screaming at each other but the door did little to stop the fire ghoul from listening in on the conversation. The other ghouls sat strewn around the common room. Their own conversations had died down shortly after the smell of fear, hurt and sadness had crept through the cracks of the door.

The longer the argument went on the more suffocating the energy in the ghoul den got. Mountain had been the first to leave, excusing himself to his greenhouse to escape the all-consuming smell of a multi ghoul in distress. The girls had left together without a word. They didn’t need to say anything. Everyone knew.

One after another the rest of the ghouls left the den as the sounds of sobs grew louder from the bedroom. Phantom had scurried after the girls. Being a quintessence ghoul meant he felt everything even harsher than the other ghouls. And he couldn’t take it. Rain took his leave a little later after he couldn’t bear hearing Swiss cry anymore. It hurt too badly to stay.

The anger Dew had felt until just minutes ago was almost non-existent now. Instead, the ugly grasps of guilt had a tright grip on him, threatening to pull him under and drown him in it. He tried to tell himself that Swiss deserved it. That he didn’t do anything wrong. You did deserve to know what Swiss was, after all. But Dew knew it had not been his place to tell you. And not in the way he did. Using you to get a reaction out of Swiss. To manipulate you into thinking a certain way about the multi ghoul. His chest felt heavy with guilt, suffocating him from the inside.

He didn’t blame the other ghouls for leaving the den. The atmosphere was devastating. The smell of distress thick in the air. This was even worse than when Swiss had come clean with them a few weeks prior. And suddenly Dew wasn’t so sure what this would do to Swiss. He had been a wreck last time, there was no way of knowing what would happen this time.

Aether was the last to leave. He sighed as he got up from the sofa, turning to leave the den like the others had before turning back to Dewdrop with a snarl. It was so entirely unlike Aether, that Dew felt himself recoil at the gesture.

“You told them, didn’t you?”, he asked, disappointment in his eyes. Dew didn’t say anything but that was answer enough for the quintessence ghoul.

“You’ve said fucked up things before, Dewdrop. But this was a real low blow, even for you.”

And with that, Aether left the den without looking back at the fire ghoul still sitting on the couch. Dew’s own eyes stung with tears as he felt everything he had done crashing down on him. The tears didn’t fall though, because before they could, the door to Swiss’s room opened.

Your still crying form walked through the door and into the direction of the den’s exit. Swiss followed slowly, not daring to be too close to you. He stopped in the middle of the common room and watched with heavy sobs as you closed the door behind yourself. His eyes were transfixed on the door as if he was waiting for you to open it again. Open it and run back to him, leap into his arms and hug him, kiss him. Telling him everything was going to be alright.

But the door never opened.

Swiss turned to Dewdrop and when their eyes met, the fire ghoul felt like he was being pulled down into the pit. He had never, not even then, seen Swiss like this. Completely and utterly gone. Dew waited for Swiss to snap at him. To launch himself at the smaller ghoul and rip him to pieces. He wouldn’t have fighted back, he would’ve let it happen. He knew what he did was not excusable.

But the attack never came. Instead there was a shaky breath from the multi ghoul as he mustered up a bitter smile. “I hope you got what you wanted, firefly.”

He left the den as well. Where to, Dew didn’t know.

But the feeling in his stomach was so incredibly painful, he didn’t dare to move off the couch. And Dew had never hated himself more than in that moment.

[imsatu]

my fav hc about the ghouls is that they were alive and then died, to then get summoned as ghouls, so here's what i imagine they were like as humans

im just going to quickly go over some of them, but i can do the others, and i'll probably go deeper in each story later too.

CW for death mentions, also the way i imagine them is not tied to the unmasked musicians in any way. these are not definitive or anything, just based on vibes

first, i think all ghouls did something related to music when they were alive, especially something related to their instruments, and that's why they got chosen also, they forget who they were when they were alive, but they can remember, like recovering from amnesia and getting your memories back

I'll start with phantom and aurora

phantom: he is the youngest ghoul in every sense, he is the last that was summoned, the youngest at his human death, and the one that spent the least time in the pit

he was a twenty something year old guy that lived in the 80's and was born somewhere in the middle of the usa in a conservative and strictly christian home. he lived his teen years feeling like an outcast, but, after learning about the rising of rock and metal music and the alternative communities in the big cities, he ran away from home to live his dream, which was of course to become a rockstar. he didn't last too long, as he died shortly after meeting a group of sketchy people and disappearing, his cause of death is still unknown

one day, searching youtube for something to fall asleep to, he stumbled on a video of his own cold case that is still open to this day

aurora: she lived during the last quarter of the 1700s in france, (the french revolution). she was born a duchess in the middle of luxury and refined fashion and arts, her favorite of course being the big, fluffy dresses and the music.

she was an extremely gifted singer and loved to perform, but due to her social status, she never got to properly enjoy as she would've wanted. she admired the entertainers at the balls, who were able to express their arts and talent, and when she started planning her escape to go and live free, her family fell prisoner during the revolution, and the rest is history

her room is decorated in a very ornate way, with hundreds of bows and ruffles, golden pillars and a small chandelier she diy'ed, and mountain gifts her fresh flowers often so she can keep them in there, even though she has no idea about her previous life, and is not interested in it

[damallarky]

Veilguard Prologue, Part 2: Aisling

Guess who finally finished the second of her pre-Veilguard prologue fics? It's Part 2: Solavellan Bugaloo, and by Bugaloo, I mean an emotional rollercoaster. Things need to get worse before they get better, but don't worry, guys; things will get better. I promise.

Also, my Inquisitor, Aisling, has a stutter. I based it on my own experiences with my (admittedly very mild) stutter and the research I did, but if anyone has any suggestions on how to improve or more accurately represent stuttering, please let me know.

If you prefer, this fic is also on AO3. Check it out!

Summary:

Solas's plans will soon come to fruition, but before he can be free of his debt owed to the People, he must ensure the safety of those he loves most. That is how he finds himself at the home of his heart, the former Inquisitor Aisling Lavellan and her (and his) children.

AKA Solas and Aisling have their first honest conversation in a decade. Like I said, it's a rollercoaster. Buckle up, folks.

Mentions of my Inquisitor's children Ren and Neria.

-

Solas stood out on former Inquisitor Aisling Lavellan’s balcony, staring at the dazzling blue of the Rivaini coastline below. The Inquisitor and her family had moved to Rivain a year or two ago, ostensibly to be closer to Aisling’s older brother Arin, who was currently living with a certain Tevinter Magister, but also to get away from the ruins of their former home after the demon incident at Skyhold had nearly leveled the place.

Another one of Solas’s many, many failings.

However, Solas quite liked the new home Aisling had built for herself. It was a stone cottage that seemed to be built into the very cliffside it stood on, with stone steps leading directly to the beach and ocean below. Inside, it was homely, with plush carpets and furs, plants in the windows, and books scattered about the place. Momentos from Aisling’s time as the Inquisitor filled the various nooks and crannies, and nearly every wall had some example of art made by her children over the years.

Solas had wished he could have explored further and delved into the life Aisling had led the past decade. But he thought better of it, content to wait in her bedroom until she returned, as she had asked him to do.

Solas had informed Aisling of his arrival, of course. He had sought her out in the Fade and asked her permission to speak with her and see her. His plans were approaching fruition. In fact, they needed to be expedited if he was correct in his assumption on the strength of the Evunaris’s prison. He had taken the necessary precautions. Ran countless calculations to ensure the minimum amount of damage, but…

Solas’s thoughts were interrupted by the sound of a door opening and closing. Slowly, he turned around and, for the first time since the Qunari invasion, he saw her. 

At thirty-four, former Inquisitor Aisling Lavellan looked much the same as she had the last time he had seen her, except, of course, for the prosthetic arm, a strange contraption of gears and lyrium that had the markings of a Dagna creation. Her hair was perhaps a bit longer, currently out of her usual braided updo and hanging in loose curls down her back. Her face, too, was perhaps a bit more worn, age and duty just barely beginning to etch fine lines onto her freckled skin. To Solas, however, she was just as beautiful now as she was when he first saw her in Haven all those years ago… a perfect creature in an imperfect world.

He and his kin had once claimed divinity, but before him was a true goddess. She with her soul that shone bright enough to pierce even the darkest parts of his ancient and wretched heart. His fire-haired lady, with her boundless compassion and endless curiosity. The top of her head just barely reached the bottom of Solas’s chin (perfect, he remembered, for tucking her close to him and breathing in the wool and amber scent of her hair), but still, Solas felt small underneath her gaze. He had to fight every instinct not to throw himself at her feet and declare himself her supplicant. To grovel and plead for her forgiveness for being the penitent sinner that he was.

He could not, however. Not while his people still suffered. Not while he still had to fix the mistakes of his past. A sinner he was indeed and there was penance still to be paid… the price of which was the loss of his heart.

He had only wished that he did not have to take her down with him.

Solas had hoped against hope that Aisling would forget him. That she would move on to someone else, someone younger and more worthy of her love. But as the years went on, she had only doubled down on her efforts to find him and bring him home to her. He had read the reports from his agents about how she would work herself to the point of exhaustion. Had listened to her desperate pleas and disparaging cries from the Fade.

He had wanted her so desperately to live, but instead, she was slowly killing herself, bit by bit. His plan to bring down the Veil would only be the final nail in her coffin.

Then, of course, there was Neria… And Ren.

Neria was, much like her mother, a complication he had not foreseen but, also like her mother, could not bring himself to regret. Solas had made so, so many mistakes in his life, but never would he consider Neria among them. Not when his heart swelled with pride as he read reports from his spies that mentioned her cleverness or nearly burst with love as he watched her from a distance while she played and explored the Fade with spirits of Joy and Curiosity.

Each night, Solas wanted desperately to reach out, to talk to her. To close the gap between himself and his daughter that he had unknowingly carved out nearly twelve years ago, and that only seemed to grow with each passing day.

He knew so little about his own child, and what details he did know were shallow things he knew only through his network of spies (and whatever Joy and Curiosity would share with him). He knew that she loved reading, but he did not know what her favorite books were. He knew she had inherited his sweet tooth, but he did not know which sweets she preferred. He knew that she had a love of animals, but which ones Solas could not say.

His child was practically a stranger to him as he was to her, and oh, did that make him want to weep.

Ren was similar, but different. Unlike Neria, Ren wasn’t Solas’s child by blood, but rather the child of Aisling’s late bond mate who had died before the little boy was even born. Though not related by blood, Solas still felt attached to him. Protective of him, even. He remembered fondly showing the then two-year-old how to build snowmen in Haven, or the shrieks of joy as Solas summoned wisps of light to play with him, or how the boy would toddle after him while he painted in the rotunda of Skyhold. Then, as he and Aisling grew closer, how he would help her put him to bed, telling him stories in Elvhen until the toddler drifted off into the Fade.

After Solas had left, he had felt his loss as keenly as he did Aisling’s and then, later, Neria’s. Regretted the pain he caused just as deeply. In the Fade, he watched as the boy grew into a kind, thoughtful young man, with a spirit much like his mother’s. Ren did not shy away from the denizens of the Fade (Curiosity was particularly attached to him and was often seen in his company if they weren’t entertaining Neria) but engaged with them as well. It was the same in the waking world, if Solas’s agents were to be believed. In their reports, which Solas had started to think were filled with such details for some ulterior motive, they would mention how mature Ren was for his age. How kind and thoughtful he could be.

Solas would have been proud to call him his son, if Ren and Aisling would have let him have that honor.

Yes, he had a duty to his people and a duty to every modern Elf in Thedas. Still, he could not deny that he had a duty to his children as well and, of course, their mother.

Which, Solas had to remind himself, was why he was here. To warn them.

That, and to see them one last time.

“Inquisitor.” He said, voice gruff. “You look… well.”

That was when he heard the growling. From behind Aisling leapt a large mabari, it’s coat a bluish silver hue in the evening light. The war hound put itself between Solas and the Inquisitor, fangs bared and growling warningly. Solas stood his ground, staring directly into the mabari’s eyes in challenge, his own figurative hackles raised. The mabari, to its credit, merely flinched but did not back down from what it now realized was no mere man.

“Sathan, Fenan,” Aisling said, grabbing the dog by its massive collar. It was so large she had to use both hands. “Atish dur!”

The mabari, Fenan, stopped growling at once, though he seemed reluctant to retreat entirely.

“Is ju teldin nuem,” she promised, rubbing the dog’s neck. Satisfied, the great beast trotted off, choosing to sit by the door where he continued to watch Solas like a hawk.

“I’m…” Aisling began, “I’m s-sorry. He isn’t n-n-no-normally like this…”

Solas noticed her stammer, which was usually worse when she was excited or tense. Or frightened. He hoped that it wasn’t the latter.

“When did you get a mabari?” Solas asked, desperately trying to keep his voice casual.

“He was a gift for Neria. Cullen’s mabari had puppies, and he let her and Ren p-pick one each.”

“A fine gift. I have heard that there is no better a companion than a mabari.”

“He and Neria are normally attached at the hip, but he wouldn’t leave my side this evening. He must have sensed s-something was off, and unlike Ren’s mabari, Fenan can be stubborn.

“…Ah.”

“Indeed.”

“Inq-“ he began but stopped himself. They were beyond titles now. “Aisling. Thank you for agreeing to meet with me.”

Aisling nodded curtly.

“P-p-pl-ple-“ she gave a frustrated sigh, shoulders slumping as her mouth refused to form the words. She tried again. “P-please sit,” she said, gesturing to one of the chairs in front of the fireplace before sitting down in the one opposite it. Solas sat down, perhaps a bit reluctantly. He felt a sudden onslaught of nervousness overcome him, being in her presence again after so long.

“You said that you needed to speak with me?” Aisling asked.

Solas took in a deep breath. Exhaled.

“I will be bringing down the Veil soon,” he said. The silence that followed nearly made him wince.

Solas watched as Aisling’s expression went from shocked to furious to exhausted in mere seconds before she turned and stared into the fire, face unreadable once more.

“Aisling, I-“

“When?” she asked, cutting him off.

 Solas sighed.

“Less than a year,” he said, voice barely above a whisper.

Possibly sooner, he thought, if the Evunaris keep chipping away at their prison.

He could feel Aisling’s penetrating gaze on him now, but he could not bring himself to look her in the eye. When he finally worked up the courage to lift his head, he saw Aisling with her chin resting in her hand, her real hand, as she stared pensively into the fireplace.

They sat there in silence, the only noises being the sound of the waves being carried through the open window and the crackling of the fireplace before them.

“Neria will be turning twelve this year,” Aisling intoned, almost casually, before fixing Solas with a penetrating stare, “will… will she even live to see it? What about Ren?”

Solas felt as if the rug had been pulled out from underneath him.

“That is…” he swallowed hard. “That is why I wished to speak with you. I am doing my utmost to minimize the damage bringing down the Veil will cause,” he explained, his words tumbling out of him faster and faster as he went on. “And while I believe I am close to a solution that I believe will benefit the most amount of people in the long run-“

Aisling stared at him slack jawed and in disbelief. She looked at Solas as if he had sprouted a second head.

“-I cannot guarantee Ren or Neria’s safety, unless…

“…Unless what, Solas?” Aisling asked, the apprehension clear in her voice.

“…Unless the three of you go into hiding. I have a few locations, safe houses where I believe the three of you can wade out the worst of what is to come.”

The silence that followed then was nearly deafening. It was deadly quiet; no noise seemed to pierce through whatever spell befell the two of them, not the fire dancing in the fireplace or the waves outside of the window, or even the whining of the mabari still at Aisling’s door.

Aisling stood up from her chair, slowly, as if possessed.

“What?” she asked, her voice colder than ice. Her tone cut right to Solas’s core, and he winced. Aisling then began to pace erratically, back and forth in front of the fireplace like a caged animal.

“Aisling,” he pleaded as he watched her pace, “if you never believe another word I say, please believe this: I promise that I will do everything in my power to keep the three of you safe.”

Aisling stopped her pacing to swing around and face him.

“Everything, except stopping this madness!” She exclaimed, throwing her arms up in frustration.

“Do you think I take joy in this?” Solas snapped. “Do you think I want to bring destruction upon the people of this world?”

“So you c-claim, and yet you still continue with a plan to do just that!”

Solas wanted to scream. Why couldn’t Aisling see? Why couldn’t she understand?

“What I do,” he said through clenched teeth, “I do for the betterment of the People. By bringing down the Veil, the lives of Ren and Neria, and Elven children across Thedas would be improved!”

“YOU DON’T KNOW THAT, SOLAS!” Aisling yelled. “BY BRINGING DOWN THE VEIL YOU CAN JUST AS EASILY GET THEM KILLED!”

Something deep inside Solas, something that he kept carefully buried away for eons, snapped. He leaped from his chair as if burned.

“I HAVE ALREADY KILLED THEM!” he yelled back. “AS I HAVE ALREADY KILLED YOU AND EVERY OTHER ELF IN THEDAS!”

Solas’s ears began to ring, and his legs felt like jelly. Then they gave out completely, and he fell to his knees before the former Inquisitor.

“Do you not see?” He cried, pleadingly, silently begging her to understand. “By creating the Veil, I have already condemned you, condemned both of our children, to death. I have destroyed…”

Solas felt himself trail off, unable to finish his sentence as he struggled to breathe. He felt the guilt of thousands upon thousands of deaths wrap around his neck like a hangman’s noose. Elf or spirit- at this point it hardly mattered. He could feel the weight of all the races of Thedas, every living soul that ever was and would ever be, as they cried out for justice. He could feel their spectral hands grab at the noose around his neck and pull and pull and pull…

“…I have destroyed everything.” He choked out.

Aisling knelt beside him. She took him into her arms and held him tightly, rubbing circles into his back in a soothing gesture. He buried his face into her shoulder, heedless of the snot and the tears he was surely getting all over her as he wept like he hadn’t wept in an age, thousands of years' worth of grief pouring out of him in waves that would have pulled him under were it not for Aisling’s anchoring presence.

“Ar lath ma,” he wept, “ma vhenan, ma ghi’lal elen. Ar lath ma sul bellanaris, i ir abelas.” 

“Tel abelas,” Aisling muttered, her own tears spilling down her cheeks and dripping onto the back of Solas’s head while he continued to sob onto her shoulder.

“I am trapped. Trapped on a path I no longer wish to walk.”

“You need not walk it alone, Solas, if you must walk it at all,” she grabbed him by the face, stared at him with wide, pleading eyes. “P-p-pl-please ma lath, if this is something you must do, then let us find a way to do it together. Safely.”

“I…”

For one brief, shining moment, Solas considered it. Aisling had done the impossible before. But this…

No. He couldn’t do that. Not to her. Never to her.

“I cannot,” he said, fervently shaking his head, “I cannot do that to you, Aisling. Please do not ask that of me.”

Aisling let go of him and sat there on the floor in front of her fireplace, looking as broken and defeated as Solas had ever seen her. He hated that he was the cause of it. Solas needed to leave… Leave before he broke her heart even further. With great effort, he hauled himself to his feet.

“I will send word,” he said, his voice hoarse and hallow, “when I have found a suitable location to keep you and the children safe from the worst of the fallout. I am sorry, Aisling.”

Slowly, Solas made his way towards the door, each step a struggle. He hadn’t made it far, however, when he heard Aisling call out for him.

“Solas, wait,” she said. “P-please don’t leave. Not yet.”

He shut his eyes tightly, knowing that, deep down, he should leave before he did any more damage. However, the part of him that was more impulsive and reckless, that was more wolf than man and that kissed her back in the Fade over a decade ago, demanded that he stay. Stay and bask in her presence for as long as he could before he would no longer have the chance to.

Solas turned around and sat back down in the chair. In the end, he didn’t stand a chance.

The silence that followed was painful. Aisling seemed just as surprised that he had chosen to stay as he was.

“How is Ren?” He asked, eventually wanting to keep things civil while also learning as much about the children he abandoned as he could while he could.

“Tall,” she said, “taller than me now,” Aisling smiled softly and stared into the distance, looking at something only she could see. “Ren’s been doing well here in Rivain, though he misses Skyhold t-terribly. He’s been learning magic from myself and Dorian, when he has the time. He’s picking it up fast; I’m proud of him. Dorian even has Ren help him with his research sometimes.”

Solas wanted to ask about what they were researching, but he kept it to himself. It wasn’t his business.

“Ren has also taken quite a liking to p-painting over the last few years. He wants to try a fresco at some point…”

“A fresco?” Solas asked, feeling his heart skip a beat.

“A fresco,” she said with a nod and a knowing smile. “He’s been mostly sticking to canvas, but if he is serious about it, and I believe he is, I can think of a few places here he c-could try it out on.”

“I…” Solas faltered, unsure if he was about to cross some sort of boundary, “…I could send for the type of paint he would need. Brushes as well.”

His fears were unfounded, however. Aisling beamed, clearly happy with the idea.

“He would like that,” she said.

The room delved into awkward silence once more.

“Have you b-been well?” She asked.

Solas couldn’t help the huff that escaped him.

“Honestly?”

“Honestly.”

“I have been… well enough.”

Aisling quirked an eyebrow, doubt written plainly on her face before she burst into raucous laughter.

“Sorry,” she said, wiping her eyes, “it’s just… Neria does the exact same thing, you know? When she’s been c-caught in a lie and doesn’t want to answer. She evades the question.”

“I was not evading the question.”

“Neria says the exact same thing.”

He snorted. Then frowned.

“Neria lies?” he asked, not at all liking the implications, whispers of traitor, harellen, echoing in his skull. Aisling gave him a sympathetic look.

“She’s eleven, Solas.” She said, fondness in her voice. Whether it was for him or for Neria, Solas could not say. “She’s eleven and she has a t-tendency to sneak live animals into her room when she thinks no one is watching.”  

“…live animals?”

“Oh yes… You should have seen the snake brood she incubated.”

“Does she have any preference when it comes to animals?” Solas asked, eager for any scrap of information he could gather on his little girl. His da’vhenan.

“Well, she loves wolves,” said Aisling. Then, with a roll of her eyes, she added, “No idea where that came from…”

“A coincidence, I’m sure,” said Solas, unable to stop himself from grinning.

“Of course,” Aisling replied, a small smirk on her face. “She also loves reptiles. And that one, truly, is a mystery to me.”

“She likes… reptiles?”

“Yes. Lizards, snakes, turtles. We see them all the time here in Rivain. She and Ren will spend hours down by the shore looking for them.”

“And does she find any?”

“Usually. She’ll often sketch the ones she finds in her notebook and show them to me. She’s gotten quite g-g-g-goo…” Aisling let out another frustrated sigh, “…she draws very well, too. You would be proud.”

“I am,” Solas declared. “Proud of her, that is. Proud of both of them… even though I know I have no right to be.”

Hastily, he swiped the moisture from his eyes. If Aisling noticed, she didn’t comment on it, merely stared at him sadly. There was so much he had missed because of his duties. First words and steps. Their first sparks of magic. He should have been there for all of it. Should have been there to watch them learn and grow and…

You should be there for them now, a voice in his head hissed.

And he wanted to. Oh, how he wanted to… To give up on his wretched goals and go hunt for lizards on the beach with Neria and teach Ren how to paint frescos.

He felt himself spiraling once more, dangling on the edge of some dark precipice, when Aisling gently touched his hand, bringing him back to himself with a start.

“I-“ he began, “Forgive me, I-“

“Solas, would you like to learn more about her? Ren as well?” Aisling asked kindly.

It was not often that Solas found himself at a loss for words. This time, however, he couldn’t seem to be able to get any past the lump firmly lodged in his throat. He could only nod enthusiastically.

And that was how, hours later, the two of them ended up on the rug in front of Aisling’s fireplace. She had regaled him with as many stories of Neria and Ren as she could. Many of them were tiny, inconsequential things, but to Solas, each little tidbit of information was as precious to him as any jewel.

He laughed right along with Aisling as she told him of the time Neria brought a toad she found to her Aunt Vivienne’s fancy dinner party. Both Neria and Ren had tried to catch it, but the frog was apparently evasive and had landed right on the lap of one of the Orlesian noblemen. He was also surprised, pleasantly so, to find out that Vivienne had apparently found it just as hilarious and had a habit of serving that particular Orlesian frog legs whenever she hosted him.

He marveled at the tale of how the children discovered their respective magic; Ren apparently summoned wisps of light one night when he woke up to find his room frighteningly dark, only to excitedly show off his new trick to his mother the very next morning. Neria and Solas couldn’t help the bark of laughter that came from him when he heard the tale, he had accidentally summoned fire. Apparently, her Uncle Dorian had been showing the little girl magic tricks involving small flames, only for Neria to decide she wanted to try it herself. It was a surprise to them both when she summoned her own flames, and luckily, the only damage done was to Dorian’s mustache... And, perhaps, his pride.

He felt a spike of righteous fury when he learned that the Iron Bull had apparently promised both children to take them dragon hunting and only calmed once Aisling told him that she herself had promised the Qunari that she would turn the Iron Bull into the Iron Steer if he ever dared pull such a stunt. Solas couldn’t help but laugh a little at that. Apparently, the subject had never been brought up since.

So caught up in absorbing as much information about the children as he could, he didn’t notice how the two of them were slowly inching their way closer and closer to one another until they had both subconsciously reached for the other’s hand, entwining their fingers together like that was where they belonged. Solas was the first to notice, looking down at his long, slender hand as it engulfed her much smaller one. Aisling followed his gaze and blushed furiously.

She didn’t, Solas noticed, remove her hand.

“You still haven’t answered my question, Solas,” she said, giving him a pointed look, “Don’t think I haven’t noticed.”

“Ah. She is privy to my ways, it seems…”

Solas thought of how best to answer her. The simple answer was that he was painfully lonely, scared, and unsure. But he didn’t want to tell her that. Not after everything else, he laid at her feet. He had already burdened her with enough worries for one night.

 He didn’t want to tell her of the nightmares that came more and more frequently as of late. Of the Evunaris breaking free from their prison and hunting him down, hunting Aisling and the children down. Images of their corpses haunted his dreams, and many nights, he would wake up with a scream, so panicked, so unwilling to return to the Fade that was once his home, that he would simply stare at the ceiling until dawn came.

 Nor did it feel right to complain about how isolated he felt. How his home, the Lighthouse, that was once a place of refuge, had become something of a prison. How alone he felt as he ate after sharing so many meals with the Inquisition… With his friends... With her… How he had simply started skipping meals, just so he wouldn’t have to eat alone at his long table, meant for more than one single, solitary old fool.

He couldn’t tell her those things. Those were his burdens to bear. Problems of his own doing that he could do nothing but endure alone. He could, however, give her one simple truth.

“I’ve missed you,” he said, finally. “Terribly, in fact.”

At that, Aisling leaned forward, her large green eyes sparkling in the firelight. She was very close to him now, close enough that he could have easily run his thumb across her cheek or tuck a lock of bright red hair behind her ear. For a moment, Solas could have sworn he could smell the scent of wool and amber.

“Truly?” she asked.

“Truly,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “Truly, madly, and deeply.”

“Sweet talker,” she replied, and before he knew what was happening, Aisling grabbed him by the collar and kissed him passionately. Then she pulled back, her eyelashes fluttering, and Solas knew if she had asked him at that very moment to give up his mission, he would have done it. Laid down his arms and throw himself at her mercy.

(Months later, trapped in a prison of his own making, Solas would replay this scene in his head over and over again, silently wishing Aisling had asked him and that he wasn’t such a coward so he could have made that decision himself.)

“Stay with me tonight,” Aisling said in a breathless voice that sent shivers down Solas’s spine. “Just for tonight. Please…”

“Vhenan,” he growled.

“Let us pretend. Just for tonight…”

“We shouldn’t,” Solas said even as he went in for a kiss of his own, his hands finding their favorite spot right above the small of her back.

It was a token resistance, and he knew it.

They barely made it off the rug before they were laughing and tossing aside their clothes (or, in Solas’s case, armor) without a care in the world. Aisling yelped, then laughed brightly as Solas scooped her up, bridal style, and carried her off to her bed, laying her down as gently as he could. He crawled over top of her, and as he did, he lavished her body with kisses, worshiping her.

“Ar lath ma,” he whispered with each kiss pressed against her skin. “Ar lath ma. Ar lath ma. Ar lath ma.”

Finally, as he slid inside of her, his body fitting with hers perfectly as if it had been made that way, he did as Aisling bid him to do and allowed himself to pretend. Pretend that Fen’harel and all his terrible duties were dead and buried with the rest of the Elvhen empire and that he was allowed to be simply Solas, the wandering Elven apostate.

In his mind’s eye, he saw it. The life this Solas led.

Solas, with his clever daughter and thoughtful stepson, whom he would be teaching everything he knew. Magic, the Fade, the Elvhen language, painting, chess… it didn’t matter what. If they were interested, he would teach them. If he didn’t know, then he would learn with them.

And, of course, he would help Neria hunt for lizards by the beach and teach Ren how to bind paint to plaster.

He imagined that they would have more brothers and sisters… as many as Aisling was willing to give him. Multiple sets of tiny, pointed ears surrounded by bright red hair. Multiple little voices all calling him “Papae.”

Solas’s nights would be spent much like this one, with Aisling in his arms. He would card his fingers through her long, red hair. Whisper words of endearment against her skin as they made love, slowly, languidly, and without the baggage from before. There would be no secrets, no duties or guilt to come between them, and he would be free to love the woman who became his heart as she deserved to be loved.

Truly, madly, and deeply.

And each morning, he would wake up to soft, freckled skin against his own and to a smile that was brighter than any sun. Some mornings, he imagined, would start later than others, as he would struggle to keep his hands off her… but eventually, they would make their way down to a long table meant to sit their entire family. Breakfasts would be chaotic, but there would be light and laughter and so, so much love…

He wanted it all so badly.

In the real world, Solas buried his face into Aisling’s shoulder as he continued to thrust desperately into her. He tried not to think about how this might be the last time he would ever see her in person. He tried not to think about how he would be gone before she woke up, how she would reach out for him only to find a cold space where he once lay.

“Var lath vir suledin,” Aisling whispered in his ear as if she sensed his growing despair. She probably did.

Var lath vir suledin. It was a promise that she had made before, and it was a promise that she would keep until the bitter end.

Var lath vir suledin. He didn’t know how. But, at least for tonight anyway, he could pretend that it could.

With that, Solas closed his eyes and allowed himself, just this once, to worry neither about the past nor the future and to let himself simply be lost in the sensation of loving this incredible woman and being loved in turn.

[golden-rats]

Fall of a sinner

Aaaaahh finally got around to finish this. I am not entirely satisfied but my brain can't sit on this any longer. So take what you get my heathens.

Secondo having a little degradation kink.

Pairing: Secondo x GN!Reader

Words: 2.7k

Rating: Mature, so MDNI

Tags: Praise and degradation, handjob, teasing

You can also read it on AO3 here

Secondo only trusted you with this secret. Never really saying it out loud.

But you know.

You know by the way he slithers into your room at the dead of night.

You know by the way his gaze gets sheepish if it lingers on you for too long.

How he lets you touch him, caress his cheeks while your mouth spills words that make his legs tremble.

His cheeks under the paint burning red from the heat rising from the pit of his stomach. He's an open book to you. Spreading his pages just like his legs.

You're the only person to know and it's clear he'd raise hell if that ever got out. The punishment you place on him would be a walk in the park to how he'd shred you and your life to pieces.

But that's the exciting part, no?

"...I was good today."

Looking up from the book you were reading before bed, you saw a tall, dark figure looming in the doorway. Closing the door quietly behind him. His pace fast, coming over with long steps.

"And who are you to decide that?" You didn't sound very impressed with his claim. Turning your page. It was all part of the game. Part of something dangerous.

"How can I convince you then, amore?"

With a sigh you closed your book. Crossing your legs as you eyed the moody scary Papa. He didn't look so scary anymore. Not with the way he stood there, weight shifting from one foot to the other. Embarrassment written on his face.

"You really need my help for everything? Asking instead of trying. And what happens when I tell you? Will you follow order, be a good boy with it and expect a reward?" You could hear his breath hitch. Before getting shallow. Stepping closer to the armchair you've been sitting in.

"Or will you use it to tease and make a scene as bratty bottom just to get a reaction? Proving all you are is a sub who needs some manners taught? Enjoying it. The attention. The thrill. Chasing these fun little meetings." Lifting one hand, you signaled Secondo to close the distance between you. Which he willingly did. He came to a halt right in front of you.

Grabbing the fabric of his robe. Getting your grasp on his collar as he bent down. Staring into his mismatched eyes, mercilessly.

"Mhm getting excited, are we? Bet your mind is running with all sorts of things I could ask of you to prove how good of a boy you are…" One thumb trailing over his lips, smearing the paint slightly. You leaned your head to the side, giving him some time and the opportunity to answer. He swallowed. Eyes closed. It still wasn't easy for him to let go like that.

"Do you get aroused? Nervous? I'd really like to know what it is you'd expect from me. And how willing you'd be to fulfill. With how much resistance. Debating which side of yourself you want to show now." Your tone got quiet, alluring. Placing your hand on his chest. That's when he looked back at you. Getting hungry.

"The brat that thinks they could really dom one day? For the right person? Be fully in charge and have someone on their knees obeying your every command? Hungry for attention, not necessarily affection. Just knowing you see them." And with those words you pushed him. He stumbled as you got up. Falling backwards, landing right at your feet.

You stepped over him. Feet placed left and right from his waist on the ground. Looking down on your Papa. In more than one way. His robe was thin, showing the outlines of a bulge beginning to form. Soon you'd have him right where you wanted.

"Or will you fall back into the you that thoroughly enjoys it all. Having the status as toy. Still earning respect and getting adored. Being so fun to play with. To care for." He tried to push himself up on his elbows and forearms. Getting a better look at you. Awaiting your next action. And it followed almost immediately.

With a swift kick you shoved his arm away, making him fall back once more. Sinking down you hovered over him. Crouching. Seeing his chest rise and fall rapidly, shallow. You licked your lips.

"Let me know how I can provide for your needs. I'll be good and gentle. Unless you want me not to, which will suit me much, much better…" Running both your hands over his body. Feeling the delicate embroidery on silk fabric. The combination of green and black always suited him. It was your favorite look on Secondo. Too bad part of it will be ruined shortly. Or so you hoped, if he really was that perfect boy.

He let out a shaking breath before talking. His voice low and raspy. "Use me."

Even if you wanted to, you just couldn't stop the grin on your lips beginning to spread. The air was filled with an electric energy. "Just how I like it. And it doesn't take much effort to play by the rules, right? You sometimes play smug and hard to get. Trying to be witty. But you're not as good at this game as you might think you are, Papa~"

You're chuckling as he bucks his hips. Brushing against your butt. He's getting impatient. And big. Growling under his breath. His eyes searching your face, gazing down your body.

"While it is true you're entertaining…" Your hands that wandered over his chest now came to a hold near his throat.

"You're also just giving me right what I want. In the end it all comes down to the same result. Whichever way you see it, pleasure is what awaits… You just earn it differently."

Bending down you pecked a kiss on his lips. Whispering against them.

"Sometimes I even see you as reward. What it does to my ego to know you sit there, staring at my lips and waiting to hear these words. To know you're waiting for me to give you more. To know I'm someone who can rile you up. This is my high I'm chasing right now."

Leaning in, hesitantly at first, your lips met in a soft, tentative kiss. The taste of whiskey still lingered on his lips. You felt his arms rising to wrap around your waist. Fingers trailing along your spine. Goosebumps rolling over your whole body.

Being so near, his scent fills your senses. The leather from his gloves, it got stronger the more he wandered up your back. He wore cologne. You were sure it was expensive and well picked out. He took his time so it would match his preferences. It was strong but not uncomfortable. It mixed well with the faint scent of incense his robe carried. Sandalwood. It was very pleasing.

Almost addicting. You came back from your thoughts and broke the kiss. Straightening your posture and now kneeling completely. Sitting on his lap. Which greeted you with a hard on.

"Mhm I see~ What more do you want? I want to hear it from you. Speak up. You know how to talk, right? What do you want me to do. Lay out your thoughts for me. Let me poison your mind."

All the while you were speaking, your hips started to circle. You knew exactly what you were doing. Feeling two strong hands on your hips. Gripping them. A low moan hanging in the air.

"Tell me how much you like the way I treat you. The things I make you do. Make you think about."

The silk rustled between your bodies. You felt his cock twitch beneath you.

"I want it. I want all of it. I love it. How you treat me, how you can make me obey so easily. Probably more than I should. I even like that you remind me of the shameful things I've done. How flustered I get."

Secondo tried to move his hips on his own, grinding against you. But a hand around his throat signaled him it was a bad idea. He didn't have the right to act upon his wishes. Not now.

"What do you feel shame for? It's not like your existence isn't already shameful enough. There's nothing I wouldn't expect of you. You're desperate. A whore. Doing anything for just some attention. You have no right to feel ashamed. You have nothing to be ashamed of because you are nothing. The things I make you do are for my pleasure."

"Tesoro…" The next thing he felt was the lack of air. You squeezed his neck just ever so slightly. Enough for him to notice. To whimper.

"You say it's shameful? You say I should feel shame for the things I enjoy? Watching you, hearing you talk about the filthy tasks you do. That's my pleasure. And nothing you should feel shame for!" Release. A gasp. His nails digging into your skin, through your clothes.

It was almost amusing how he searched for words. Trying to phrase them right. Was it to earn pleasure or punishment? You were never too sure regarding your Papa.

"Shame for being so desperate. I don’t even think in the moment. I just do whatever I do, without even looking further. Because you ask me to. It reminds me of how low I am. But I like the feeling. Am I even allowed to like it?"

He keeps crawling back to you. It's delightful. You saw him on his hands and knees. You saw him in a collar. You watched as he filled his own desires. Jerking off as you observed. Knowing how low he'd dive for you. No, not necessarily you. Just this… situation. Whatever it was that you had going on.

"I allow you to…" Sometimes it was hard to deny what you really saw in him. And how much you needed him as he needed you.

The kiss that followed next was passionate, almost feverish, as if you had been waiting for this moment for a long time. As you kissed, both hands moved in a slow dance, exploring each other's bodies and discovering new sensations. His moans and gasps filled the room, echoing off the walls.

He started grinding against you even more. You had to put a stop to this before it got out of hand, it wasn't time for his reward yet. And you couldn't let him have the upper hand.

"Now now, what's the rush? Calm down and tell me what you want… And be a little more quiet, someone might hear you~ We don't want that, right?"

His movements came instantly to a halt. Averting his gaze for just a few seconds. Mumbling as he tried to steady his voice. Sounding serious all of a sudden.

"You're the only one that gets to see this side of me. And you very well know that. I would never purposefully attract any attention from outsiders."

"The only one? Then I'll make sure it stays that way. That those wishes and wants that come straight out your whore mouth will be for me only. I want to drag you to lows and places you didn't dream of before. Make you explore and realize how rewarding a life on your knees will be. I'll kiss you with soft feathers while the impact of my whip like words is yet to come. You'll ask and beg, whether it be for more or to finally give you release. You're at my hands mercy. Choking out your desires. Utilizing them for your benefit... Or mine."

Your words were accompanied by hungry hands. Releasing his throat you wandered down. Over his chest. His broad build, not exactly muscular. Secondo had curves and something to dig your fingers into. You've seen his bare skin before. Decorated with fine dark hair, just like his arms. You could feel the tension beneath your touch. The movement between his legs.

"I'm yours to please, cuore mio. Make me forget who I am for just a while. I am no Papa under you. I am no more than a dog. That's how low I'd sink for you." The rasp in his voice increasingly turned you on. The needy undertone.

"Mhm I get the thrill my little fucktoy. Maybe you do need a collar. A nice and tight one. With some functions I could control. Wouldn't that be nice? I'd love to see you writhe and whimper being with your brothers, at a ceremony, with the ghouls. Feeling soft pricks of electricity or vibrations sinking into your skin. I'd have my name engraved on one side and dog on the other. Since you clearly don't even deserve a name."

You smiled, he didn't. His eyes widening. Curiosity, excitement sparking in them. The possibility of getting caught. Of someone to find out.

"You're going to ruin me. I curse at how much I enjoy that thought. You truly must have put a spell on me- A-Ahh.." Throwing back his head he couldn't stifle a moan as you shifted your weight and sat right on top of his boner. It must be leaking at this point.

"My spit on the ground has more worth than you'll ever get to experience, slut. You can be happy I agreed to this." Squeezing his tits you drew more lovely sounds from his lips.

Pathetic. The way he presented himself. Needy. Desperate. So out of character for the stoic old man. But then again, it was all a facade. Of course he needed to unwind in some way or another.

Secondo behaved, you had to give him credit for that. Adding more attention to his bottom half, rolling your hips.

"My my, you're so close already and I barely touched you. Did you try and get off by yourself earlier? Is that why you came to me?"

His lips parted but no words began to form. Applying pressure to his cock he moaned once more. Sharply inhaling.

"Touch yourself."

"What?"

Swatting his hands from your body you got up. Stepping over him and back to your chair. Sinking into it and staying silent for a few heartbeats.

"You started this alone so you will end this alone. Come on now, I want to see you pant and writhe under your own touch. Can you do that for me?"

All you got was a nod. Again he steadied himself, remaining on the floor, leaning on one arm while his other trailed to his hot core. The bulge was undeniable at this point. A small wet spot already formed.

"Leave your clothes on. I won't risk getting your disgusting cum over my floor. You will get nice and clean later."

The thought of him sneaking around the abbey in dirty underwear was rewarding.

Secondo stroked his dick, trying to somehow wrap his hand around, pumping it. His eyes drifting towards yours, holding the stare. Panting. And you? You did nothing but sit and watch. He wasn't worthy of your effort.

"Hah… You're so good to me.. Look at what you make nhhng me do.."

It didn't take long for him to fasten his pace. Getting erratic. Breath quickening together with his pulse.

"Can I-"

"Yes you can come. You asked so nicely~"

In a disappointingly short amount of time he finished. Sloppy last thrusts into his hand. Growling as he hunted for just a bit more friction. Your room filled with his cries, as if he had forgotten other people lived near.

His mismatched eyes fluttered close. Concentrating on catching his breath. To come down from his high. The ecstasy your meetings brought him. But no, you didn't give him the time he needed. He had to collect himself and get out.

"What a perfect little toy you are. You're so good for me. Look at you all spent and filthy."

Your Papa sat up properly. For the last time this night you walked back over to him. Patting his cheek and placing a kiss on his forehead. He deserved affection.

He was your good boy after all.

Huge thanks to @applesauceandpeanutbutter for giving me inspiration to start this 💚

[morethatyousaylessiknow]

Forget all the slow dancing, baby we can take it to the bathroom.

Transmasc!reader x Transmasc!

Terms used for reader and Copia are

Cunt, clit, dick, etc.

A/N: Oopsies anyway..This is my first time writing smut. Please for the love of god don’t bully me 😭

Warnings: Warnings: Finger-Fucking, afab!receiving oral (both ways implied.) Implied Thigh-crushing kink, kink, bondage (slightly), poorly translated Italian, implied choking, and use of sex toys due to the transgender boys not having bottom surgery.

In no time at all, you were pressed up against the sink in the bathroom. Papa Emeritus IV had you gripping the edges of the marble sink, his leather glove thrown onto the side counter. His hand was shoved down your jeans, rubbing furious circles into your swollen clit. You stared at your reflection, wondering how you got here. He tugged at your hair, making you look at yourself in the mirror.

“Look at yourself, Principe. So desperate for the touch of your papa.”

He only smiles behind you, before slipping his fingers fully into your slick-coated cunt. He pulls them out just as fast, running his tongue along his digits in an attempt to tease.

You only could groan, your thoughts becoming fuzzy as he continued to tease you through your tight jeans. One hand had a firm grasp around your neck, the other one rubbing against your core through your clothing. He flipped you around, so you were facing him.

“Good boy, Dolce. Do I have permission to eh- continue?”

He stumbles, his awkward demeanor still very present in his voice. You nod quickly, the tight feeling in your core tightening quickly.

“Fuck, Papa..”

You gasp as his fingers uncross the laces on your dress pants, only for him to realize you weren’t wearing boxers.

“God dammit, you truly are a filthy slut, huh? I like people who are bold, I’ll give you that-“

He snickers, picking you up and carrying you until you rest on his bed. He gets on his knees, pulling a grey shoe-box from under his bed. He pulls out a thick knot of red rope, glancing at you for your reaction.

You nod, anxious yet curious on what exactly he was going to do. He pulled your jeans off in one move, before glancing down once more at your face.

“Oh my gods, Copia please-“

You beg, as he ties your hands to his headboard. He backs away, now on his stomach in between your legs.

“I cannot wait to see how you taste, Rosebud.”

He smirks at the nickname, before diving between your legs and pressing a flat tongue against your dripping cunt.

is all you can muster, your thighs instinctively squeezing around his head. His eyes opened, green and white meeting your own gaze. His eyebrows knitted together as he moaned into your clit, his eyes rolling back and his hips jutting against the bed. You feel Copia’s hands snake around your thighs, gripping them as he continued drinking you down, licking and sucking at your swollen clit. It wasn’t too long before he pushed one of his hands through your thighs and into your hole, diligently working you to your limit. That knot in your stomach only got tighter, as you writhed against the restraints. As you squeezed tighter around his head and pulled his hair as he tongue-fucked you, his moans only grew rapid and his hips rolling against the bedsheets in an attempt to pleasure his neglected clit.

“Fuck, Copia.. I need to cum-“

You gasped, tears pricking at your eyes. He pulled your thighs away from his face, before kneeling between your legs.

“While I can’t fuck into you how I would like, I can give you a taste of what we can do.”

He sighed, unbuttoning his top and tossing it to the side, his torso becoming a quick attention-grabber. You stared at his T-scars, the 666 on his breast, the hair that trailed down to his untouched yet sopping cunt, everything. He groans, stripping himself of his jeans and boxers as he kneeled between your legs again.

“Tesoro, can I ask a favor of you?”

He tilts his head, running his hands up your hips.

“Yeah, whatever you want.”

He smiles, before undoing the restraints holding your hands from touching him.

“Can you return the favor, Caro Mio?”

You wasted no time, pushing his thighs apart and leaning your head down to taste his excitement for you.

You dive down between his thighs, sucking at his clit like a starving man. He grabs at your hair, forcing your tongue in his dripping wet cunt. “Yes Tesoro, oh fuck-”

You drill two fingers inside him, frantically pumping in and out of him. You run furious circles around his dick with your tongue, pulling more obscene noises from your beloved boyfriend.

“Good fucking boy, Baby. Taking my fingers so well.” You groan, his hips rolling to meet your face. He whines, his hips stuttering a moment. You land a harsh slap to his thigh, looking at the marks he put on you earlier and the ones you put on him. “Fuck, I’m gonna- I need to cum.” He crys out, and you feel a sudden tightness around your fingers. You get amusement out of this, as you grip his hips and lick against his dick. You get an idea, running slick circles into his slit as you look up at him. “If I let you cum now, you’re going to cum for me one more time after.”

He seems to take the offer, crying out as he’s yanked over the edge. You help him ride out that orgasm, before shoving your fingers down his throat so he could taste his own bittersweetness. “Fucking like that, whore? I’ll give you more, don’t worry.” You reach in the bedside drawer, pulling out two items. A purple vibrator, and a small towel. You place a light kiss against his earlobe, before whispering: “I’m going to make you cum so hard your wetness runs down your thighs.” He moans at that, before shoving his hands in your hair. You click on the purple toy, it vibrates in your hand. You look down at him, a slickness already covering his cunt. “So wet for me already, huh? I’m surprised you didn’t cum just from the sight of it.” You shove the toy into him, angling it to hit his sensitive areas over and over. He whimpers loudly, biting his lip. You land your mouth back on his overly sensitive dick, swirling around it with your tongue before giving it a nice suck. He moans, screaming your name loudly. “Shit- Shit..” You smile up at him, moving your hand a bit faster. “So fucking desperate, absolutley filthy.”

He groans, his hips stuttering. You remove your mouth from his clit, before going to bite along his jaw. You tease at his cunt with both the toy and your fingers, biting deeper onto his neck.

“You wanna finish so bad, don’t you? If you cum, I want to hear you loud and clear, got it?” He nods, panting and whimpering. You shove the toy against his deepest sensitive spot, before landing a harsh two-fingered slap to his dick, causing his orgasm to peak higher and ride out a bit longer. You watch his facial expressions closely, all while rubbing his thighs with your free hand. He lands his hands on his face, watching as he regains his mind.

“I can’t believe I let you do that.” He chuckles, covering his pink-painted face. He attempts to pull you down before you collapse to his side. You pull him close, petting his hair while you cuddle him. He sighs contently, before he loses consciousness in your arms.

"I Love you, Mio Cuore."

[dykedvonte]

thoughts on the best ending slide where the Khans and Followers of the Apocalyspe meet up in the north and create a mighty society?

I think its so interesting because on the basis of FNV it's likely The Followers would not fuck have actually fucked with The Khans.

Like not in a mean way but Followers and the Khans differ on pretty fundamental levels. They already had prior and brief interactions where the Followers taught the Khans how to make a lot of the chems they sell, hoping they'd use it for benevolent purposes. They likely would not be happy or thrilled to know what they were actually using them for or that they were supplying them to the Fiends of all people. Especially if Julie Farkas is still in charge, she reacts very negatively to the idea of working with the Atomic Wrangler on the sole fact they intentionally hook their patrons on substances to keep them coming. Even if the Khans stopped there'd be the question if the Followers would look past this for cooperation.

We also have the fact that the followers are generally pacifists and loathe violence. They have guards as holding such beliefs makes them a vulnerable group but it's still another contrast from the more aggressive Khans. Not even to get started on them siding with the Legion, who will slaughter the Followers if they win (on the condition Caesar is dead) or run them out of the Fort and have a kill-on-sight protocol for them. The rule of fiction is they bonded over being run out or settled their differences but the build-up to the thriving empire is so much more interesting, along with the current state of it as it no doubt had to alter a lot of Khan traditions.

What I find most interesting about this ending is more so the effect the player has on it. If we use the idea the Followers they reconnect with are a different branch, then the Khans only go on to create a legacy and become a powerhouse again like in the first game. If we like to believe the Followers influenced positively then for good too (and not like their Fallout 1 predecessor). It's a clean slate for them in Wyoming but I do question what happened to the people already settled there?

If we take it was the Followers from the Fort, this route only happens if the player pointedly neglects a lot of Follower interaction and begs the question if they were desperate for a protective allegiance. The Followers are already run ragged with demands by the time the Courier gets there and being forced to leave under any of the conditions wouldn't help either. Just because they helped the Khans doesn't mean it was because they went with the same goals, more so it was mutually beneficial, much more on the Khans side because they would have to give significantly less up as the providers in this scenario.

Ultimately I think it's interesting no matter what because I like to imagine the turmoil and beef they had before cooperation. The Followers are seen as peace-loving doctor hippies by a lot of the Mojave and NCR but they are never truly hated. They just suck at actually forming alliances. To where the Khans' history and reputation are a big reason why they had to side with the Legion for revenge on the NCR despite the NCR not being loved either. To have to work with a group that previously sided with the faction that wanted you dead or just in general went against what you stood for is fascinating from a story standpoint. The fact that they prospered is another!

It's also interesting as this is treated as a much better thing for the Great Khans as it only appears on their ending slide and not the Follower's.

[nightwalker6200]

Miri growing up and realizing she was raised for a solid year by two men who weren't her fathers: Um...

Realizing they were hitmen who killed her biological dad: UM...

[surrealsuriel]

Bound with Fire, Forged in Flames (Elucien Fic)

Summary // Masterlist // Next Chapter

Disclaimer: Girl, I know nothing about the regency era and I am so sorry for how obvious it is that everything I learned is from the Bridgerton show. Pls have mercy on me. 

Chapter 1 -- Purple Columbines

Elain

Word Count: 2201

Elain first heard his name while simultaneously feeling a sharp, stabbing sensation in her right index finger. She hissed at the pain, curling her hand towards herself to hide the drop of blood that sought after its attacker– the ever menacing rose. Her father hardly took notice, nervously adjusting his shirt as he relayed the news to her. 

“--and he’s a good man... From what I’ve heard. But your sister speaks highly of him and I trust–”

“Which sister?” Elain cut in, internally cringing at the show of disrespect. He gets enough of this from Nesta and Feyre. He doesn’t need it from me. 

… He deserves it from me right now. 

Her father’s sharp look at the disruption cut over her, assessing if he was about to answer her or correct her. “Feyre…” he said uneasily. 

“Lucien Vanserra… ,” Elain rolled the name off of her lips, biting back the burn she felt at the odd emotion of knowing this was the man her father deemed good enough to sell her off to. Like a whore, a wretched voice whispered right back to her. 

“And you said he arrives…?”

“Tomorrow, yes,” her father cringed. God, he has had to have known about this for at least a month, maybe more. Elain felt that burn again, but this time she swallowed down bile, rather than the name of some Lord a town over. “But as I said, he will be staying at our estate for a month before any wedding. We will have plenty of time to vet him and make sure he isn’t just some rogue off the street.”

He tried to add this sentence with a wink but she heard what he wasn’t saying. I won’t let him near you like the last one, not until I am sure. Elain appreciated the sentiment but she felt the sting far more. “I won’t be letting him out of my sight while he is here– that way we will be plenty introduced long before he can even think to say ‘I do’”. 

Once again, what her father wasn’t saying felt much louder than what he was. I will not let him out of my sight. 

Despite her perfectly modest and ladylike attire that covered her chest to toes, Elain felt wholly exposed by the new horizon that was rising before her. She felt the dim soul of innocence within her dance through the breeze of hope that passed. Hope for a new day with a new knight in shining armor. Elain stifled the extra beat of her heart before it could gain any new encouragement. 

She straightened her back with a resolve as she made a promise to herself. 

She would marry this man for her father and for her duty. She would not trust him and under no circumstance would she allow him to have her heart, or what remained of the tattered shreds of it. Those shreds were shards she protected herself with now. Even as they made her palms bleed and tears trickle from her eyes, she would hold onto them. Her heart was no one else’s. Especially Lucien Vanserra’s. 

“Go on Elain,” her father said, trying to avoid eye contact with her. Good, he should feel guilty.

“Go get washed up for supper. You’ll head straight to sleep after to ensure you are ready for Lord Vanserra’s arrival tomorrow. Come.” 

And like always, Elain dutifully followed. 

Lucien

Lucien was pissed and rightfully so. He was expected to meet his betrothed today but instead he was standing off beside his carriage while his team of idiots scuttled around trying to get it to unstick from the mud. 

Gods… betrothed. He scoffed. Even in his mind the word spat out and splattered against his skull, ricocheting through the worst parts of him. 

He had heard of Elain and her beauty, of course. A woman does not look like that and not get talked about, especially a Lady. But he wasn’t the first to go after her, and knowing he was going to be the last dulled any excitement or pride he may have felt about wedding the Elain Archeron.

He barely knew the girl, so they weren’t going to be a love match by any means. As if I’d ever have one, he internally sneered.

Another one, a quieter, darker part of him reminded. 

He shook his mind loose of those thoughts, thinking instead on the tedious month ahead. All he had heard about Elain was that she was pretty and liked to garden. Classic. Gods, he just hoped she didn’t throw herself at him the second she saw him. 

Lucien knew he was good looking and he knew he was cocky about it, but such should be expected from a notorious rake. Unfortunately, he was cursed with enjoying the chase, although women never seemed to run too far from him. He hoped Elain would be interesting, as once he married he did not intend to stray from his marriage bed. He was a rake, sure, but not a rake without honor. 

Here’s hoping she doesn’t try and shorten my last month of freedom by asking to wed early, Lucien’s mind supplied bitterly. Maybe it was a bit cliche to consider Elain some sort of prison, but Lucien had no interest in marriage, a fact he had made clear plenty of times to his father. The cruel man probably just wanted to get rid of him and gave him to the most convenient match– a match rich enough to advance their own name but near enough geographically that Lucien still remained under his father’s thumb.

His driver signaled the cart was unstuck and ready to get a move on. 

“About an hour till we reach the estate, my Lord,” the yell muffled by the walls of the carriage rang in his head. 

One hour till the rest of my life, Lucien thought with no excitement. 

Elain

Elain wrung her hands out nervously in front of her as the clopping and jangling gave away the approaching carriage to her position on the front law of her home. Have carriages always moved that fast? This one seemed REALLY fast. It does not need to be going THAT fast. 

She took a steadying breath and glanced towards her father who looked just as nervous as her for the approaching carriage. Elain was suddenly reminded that he had never done this before either. Both her sisters had met their now husbands on their own and fallen in love with little arranging or meddling. 

Although Feyre had faced her fair share of nightmares with her first love who had tried to steal her away from the family before being married(long story), Rhysand had been a sort of savior to both Feyre and their family after they fell in love. 

Sure, Elain’s father was a duke with land and resources, but when Feyre had her first season out as a lady of society, the family had been secretly struggling with debt and the weight of their own lifestyle. They didn’t have enough money to keep pretending they were wealthy, but if they stopped acting they could have been rejected from society, a worse fate than starvation for them. 

Rhysand and his crown had saved their family from poverty, and Feyre got to be disgustingly in love so win-win-win. Shortly after Feyre and Rhys celebrated their union, Cassian, Rhys’ brother, and Nesta had been found in a spare closet in a compromising position to say the least. To maintain his honor, Cassian proposed and Nesta didn’t have much of a choice but to say yes which pissed her off to no end. She had despised their predicament for months before finally admitting that yes, maybe she kind of liked Cassian.

To the shock of the ton, Nesta and Cassian were now even more in love than their siblings. Despite Elain’s constant blush and horror, they were always all over each other. Elain simply did not understand. Whatever happened between a man and his wife could not possibly be that good or warrant that much noise. 

Even throughout the backwards ways her sisters had ended up with love matches, she knew her father was secretly pleased that two of his three daughters married well-off and to men they loved and who loved them. It was quite the shock when Elain had been the last sister left amongst the three. It wasn’t her fault that man after man had come knocking and all ran for the hills when they discovered she wasn’t as docile as their ideal inanimate doll of a woman was supposed to be. 

But here she was–anxious and awaiting an arranged marriage that she had no say in. This wasn’t supposed to be her fate, but she supposed that 3 out of 3 daughters finding their own love matches was a bit too lucky to hope for. 

The sound of crunching gravel beneath boots shook Elain from her thoughts, and she looked up to see Lucien Vanserra in all his glory. He towered over the men beside him both in stature and in looks. His red hair blazed under the afternoon sun, and Elain swore to herself that the fire of his hair was all that was causing her to heat up. His forest green attire did wonders for his tan complexion and his deep gaze penetrated every pore of her body as he glanced over her. 

Elain couldn’t help but think, This is the most gorgeous man I have ever seen in my entire life. 

And that pissed her the fuck off. 

Lucien 

Lucien would be a fool to deny the fact that talk amongst the ton did not do Elain Archeron justice. The woman was ethereal. She had the essence of a spring breeze dipped in honey and sprinkled with gold. It was an effort to only graze his appreciative stare over her once. 

When he did finally bring his gaze up to meet hers, he was startled to find a fire behind her eyes. What on Earth could I have possibly done in the past 10 seconds to already piss her off? He inwardly groaned. 

He tentatively stepped forward and, who he presumed to be Lord Archeron, met his step. 

“Lucien, it is an honor to have you as a guest in my home and as a future son-in-law. I look forward to getting to know you and you getting to know our family, although as I have heard, you are already familiar with my youngest… ?” he asked.

Lucien’s years as an emissary kicked in as he charged up his charm. Best to avoid the silly little fact that he actually met Feyre while still best friends with the man who tried to literally steal her from the father standing before him. His friendship with Tamlin had long ended since he saw his true colors, but it was still probably not the best introduction. 

“Yes, yes! Feyre and I met a while back when she first started her courtship with Rhysand. They have been all too kind to me over the years, and I am lucky to consider them both friends,” Lucien lied easily. This seemed to set Elain’s father at ease as he slowly stepped aside to present his daughter. 

She looked at him and making eye contact with her nearly had him on his knees. 

Gods what is this woman doing to me? He cursed internally. 

Lord Archeron spoke, “It is my privilege to present you my daughter, Lady Elain Archeron, your betrothed.” 

She curtsied, leaning down before him and it took every bit of self-control in Lucien’s body to quell his inner-rake that yelled at him to look slightly south, but he kept eye contact with her as she held out her hand. 

Lucien swears he meant to innocently kiss the back of her hand, but as her hand approached him and his head dipped, he couldn’t help but wonder if she was as immediately intoxicated by him as he was by her. A millimeter from his lips hitting her hand, Lucien flipped it over, placing a delicate kiss against the pulse point on her wrist. He let his lips settle against her for a moment, feeling for her heartbeat.

Beat. Beat. Beat Beat. Beat. Lucien felt her heart sing for him and he couldn’t suppress the smirk that rose on his face at the thought that he was affecting her as much as she was affecting him.

By gods, please let her feel this, too, so I am not crazy and pathetic. 

Before he could make his home on her pulse point, she snapped her hand away, a slight frown above those same, blazing eyes as she set her mouth into a hard line. 

“Pleasure to meet you, Lord Vanserra,” Lucien felt his own traitorous heart lean in towards her as he finally heard her voice, melodic underneath her clipped words that held absolutely no pleasure for meeting him. 

His euphoria was quickly severed as she turned, rushing out that she must be going before disappearing into the gardens beside them. What to make of this. 

So there would be a chase after all… he thought gleefully. 

[samfordpines]

Thinking about gl!sneeg violence (i think he should commit more)

[ihaveghouls]

Chapter 2

After the whole story in the garden, everything changed. Dewdrop and I were basically inseparable and I that. I started to feel more than safe in his presence. Even though I didn't really start any conversations, we talked a lot. He asked many questions and in return I did too. After winning against my fears, I was pretty curious about him and the other Ghouls. I even tried to talk to Swiss and Aether, but Dewdrop immediately pulled me to his side, wrapped his tail around my waist and hissed at them. I tried to ask him why he was acting like this, but he only shrugged a bit and explained to me that I am still new to this entire ghoul thing and shouldn't overtake myself with new things. I was fine with this and we strayed through the corridors of the church and clergy. It was pretty exciting to see secret hideouts and passages.  I really loved living in an old building. There were even secret rooms. "Hey Moonchild where do you wanna go today? Wanna see something new or just a casual walk around the church." Dew looked at me with curiosity in his eyes and I pretended to think. "You once said we didn't even see half of the secret floors." He nodded. "That's right." "Can you show me more secret stuff? Please!" I looked at him with my best puppie-eyes and he grinned. "Of course Moonchild. That's what I wanted to hear anyway. Follow me." He wrapped his tail and one arm around me and we started walking. I really liked the old paintings on the windows and the green vines that grew over them from the outside. It gave the whole building a mysterious atmosphere. "So you're starting the conversation, or should I?" He looked down at me and grinned. I could see his grin even from under his balaclava. "Can I ask you a question?" "Sure thing. Go ahead." I looked away for a brief moment to scan my surroundings. Yep. We were in a completely unknown area. At least for me it was unknown. I bet he knew this church like the back of his hand. "Can you really bend fire? Like…I don't know, can you make a flame appear out of nothing?" At first, it was quiet. Then he hummed. "Yeah, I can do that. Why?" "Oh, uh…just out of curiosity." I tried to say it casually. I was kinda embarrassed to say that I did indeed read books about ghouls. More than three, actually. "You've read a book about it, didn't you?" Fuck. "Yeah I did but let me explain!" I looked at him and it seemed like he was holding his breath. "Why aren't you saying anything?" "You told me to let you fucking explain, so I'm waiting." He was indeed holding his breath. "But that doesn't mean for you to stop fucking breathing!?" He let out a laugh and I shook my head. "I started to read that kinda stuff, 'cause I was curious like hell. Fuck that's so damn embarrassing!" I looked away and heard him laugh silently. "You could've just ask you know?" "At 3 AM?" "Sure. You know where my room is. Come wake me up." "You're kidding." "Do I look like I'm kidding?" "I don't know! You're wearing a mask, how am I supposed to see if you look like you're kidding or not!?" "Good point." We turned a corner and I was met with another beautiful decorated corridor. "That's near the rooms of Sister Imperator and Papa Nihil. We have to keep quiet now." I just nodded my head and we were to turn another corner, but instead of really turning it, he turned on his heels and pressed me against the wall. He did the same after that. "What-" He just looks behind the corner and drew his head back again. "What in the living hell is going on there?" He whispered to himself and I peeked too. There, in the middle of the hallway stood Sister Imperator with Papa Nihil behind her and they both recreated the scene from Ghost Message from Sam. I blinked confused. "What the fuck?" "That's what I thought. Exactly what I thought." I looked over my shoulder to see Dewdrop looking at them again too. "Why are they-" Before I could ask my question, Sister Imperator's eyes shot in our direction. Dew pulled me back quickly. "Who's there!" "We should definitely get away!" He grabbed my hand and pulled me with him. "You two! Wait!" Sister Imperator was right behind us and Dew lifted me up while running. We both hid in a confessional in the chapel. It was pretty dark and after I catched my breath I started laughing. This whole situation just mad me laugh. My laughs were muffled because my mouth was covered by Dewdrops hand. "Shht be quiet, she could come at any moment now. She didn't stop following us." I grabbed his hand and pulled it down. He instantly wrapped his arms around me and drew me closer. "Sorry, it's just…c'mon, think about this situation. It's pretty funny. I am hiding with a demon from the depths of hell in a confessional in the satanic church." He just gave an amused snort and nuzzled his chin against my shoulder. "You have strange humor." "At least I have humor. I never heard you laugh really hard." "I can if I want to, but-" The sound of the chapel's door made him stop taking and I held my breath. The sound of heels clicking against the floor made me freeze. Sister Imperator was here. Shit. If we got caught we would get a punishment. I was pretty sure of this. "Hey." Dew whispered against my ear and I nudged him against the shoulder to signal him, that I was listening. "Now you need to breathe Moonchild." I took a breath and shuddered, when his nose nuzzled against my neck and up to the skin just underneath my ear. I shuddered again and my body was full of goosebumps. "Dew?" His tail twitched excitedly against my leg and wrapped itself around my waist, while he pulled me tighter against his chest. He inhaled deeply and slowly pressed his lips against me skin. I flinched at the contact out of surprise, but he just held me comfortably and move his lips over my skin. "Dew what-" He just flicked his tongue and I grabbed his mask. His chest rumbled I heard the doors close again. Sister Imperator was gone. "She's gone." "Mh." He didn't stop and my whole skin tingled. The tingle got to the tip of my tongue, I nearly closed my eyes. "Dew she's gone. Wha- what are you doing?" I just got another rumble from him and he held me even closer. "We should go now. What if she comes back?" He lets go of me and looked at me. "Just tell me if you're this uncomfortable. I'm sorry Luna." "No, that's not what I wanted to say with this! I just-" "Come on. Let's go." And with that he got out of the confessional. I followed him. He sounded sad. Did I hurt him? Fuck what have I done? Did this whole neck kissing a meaning and I just didn't know? Probably. Should I ask him about him? I shloud have I guess but I was pretty insecure about talking to him. I tried to talk to him for the rest of the walk back but he didn't talk much. I just got short answers. Even when I tried to ask him about his guitar and he usually loved to talk about it. I fucked up. This whole thing was something important and now I've hurt him. I thought about this whole situation for the rest of the day. Even when I was already in bed. After we got back to my room, he went away. He was rambling about having to talk to Aether about something and that I can't come with him. So I went into my room and skipped through all the books I had only to find nothing. I was fucking frustrated and after four hours I decided to get ready for bed. I was determinded to talk to him the next day. I wanted to apologize and I wanted to get an explanation from him as well. With that I went to bed.

[wlwreader]

hi yall :3

[golden-rats]

So I saw more bottom secondo? Maybe you could do with a female reader this time? No pressure if not.

Sure :) I like to keep it gender neutral for everyone to enjoy but I don't mind gendering the reader sometimes!

Secondog

Words: 2,320

Warnings: Explicit, MDNI

Tags: bottom secondo, ghoulette reader, oral, face riding, footjob, coming in pants

You can also read it on AO3 here

Secondo sat at his desk, as usual. A knock pulling him out of his thoughts. Frustrated at the disturbance his eyebrows furrowed. "Come in..." He reluctantly invited the visitor. A ghoulette came in, fixating him with her eyes. Slowly strutting closer.

"What may I help you with? I'm busy, this better be important." A sly grin appearing on your lips. "Oh you will be busy..."

Secondo was already in a bad mood and wanted this all done and over with. He gave you a quick stern look as if to say 'Don't test me now...' You stopped in front of his desk. Leaning on it with both hands, eyes still on him."I heard you were a naughty Papa... I wanted to see that with my own two eyes." Your voice was tinged with a playful desire. He on the other hand looked like he was about to have a stroke. "You little..." His face contorted with anger before he took a deep breath and collected himself. Getting up from his chair. "What... What do you want."

"Mhm, you? On your knees?" You looked up at him. Not feeling threatened in the slightest. A smirk tugging at the corner of your lips. Secondos eyes widen as he released a low growl. "I'll..." He was losing his temper and control. Then, in a split second, he suddenly stood right in front of you, his hand grabbing your collar, his head just inches away from your face. He looked like he was about to bite you. "I will NOT have a child of mine act like this!" He spat, not completely done yet. In a single motion, he pushes your body against the wall with an audible thump. After some initial shock you let out a chuckle. Eyes narrowing as you looked at the antipope. "There's nothing wrong with your desires, Papa. Let me take care of you."

His voice sounded menacing as he responded. "Watch. Your. Tongue. You speak like this again and you'll see what happens." Your eyes flickered with mischief. Stepping closer from the wall to him again. The faint pain already subsiding, it wasn't a hard push really. One hand running over his chest once you were near enough. "I have to admit that tone of yours is arousing... Yet, I want to make you feel good in such a different way... What are you afraid of?" You leaned in a little closer.

"No! You're... You're..." His face turned red, his breathing getting heavier. Out of anger or because he was flustered. Who knew. "I'm not going to tolerate your behavior." He tried to force a stern expression on his face, but it's clear he's losing his self control. You chuckled. He was about to break. He needed just a little more. So you rounded him with slow steps. Hands sliding from his chest over his shoulders. Stopping behind him, you leaned closer to his ear. Your voice dropping to a husky whisper. "You like to give out orders, but how good are you at following them?" Your hands on his shoulders tightened their grip softly.

You could feel Secondos body shaking slightly. He grabbed one of your hands and pulled it down, away from him to the side. His breathing growing agitated. It's clear he's losing all his grip on the situation. "I demand... You leave." He managed to get out, his voice low and just ever so slightly shaking.That poor attempt at recovering control drew a giggle from your lips. "Do you really want that, tesoro?" The hand that got removed from his shoulder now came to rest on his waist. He felt your breath on his neck, slowly lowering his head. "Don't..." He stuttered, struggling to form words as you could see him visibly trembling. He looked down and his lower lip quivered slightly.

"Mhm what was that? You need to speak up amore." The other hand now joined his waist. Holding him close, pressing your body against his back. Secondo tried to fight for control but momentarily gave in. You felt his body relaxing slightly. He pressed close to you and you heard him whisper. "Dammit..."

The smirk on your lips just grew. Turning him around in your grip, facing him once more. Immediately locking your eyes with his. "No need to be so shy." A hand came up to stroke over his cheek, a finger tilting his chin. "I need you to be good for me now, yeah? Can you do that?"

"I..." He sighs heavily. You saw him take a deep breath, then exhaling, almost a whimper. "Yes...." He looked at you intently as he breathed heavily. Nodding, agreeing to your request. "Yes..."

Your hand stroked over his cheek once more before resting on his shoulder. "Good, good..." A smile played around your lips as your voice got softer. "Now down on your knees." You saw him nod again and without another word he sank to the ground, falling back to rest on his knees before you. Staring up. That was truly a sight to behold. He looked good down there. The longer you stared at him, the more he couldn't hold back from blushing. "I will use you as my special little toy." At this point your voice sounded almost like singing.

The look in Secondos eyes and his overall body language was that of a man who got defeated. He gave you a soft, pleading look but then lowered his eyes. "Yes..." He whispered. You chuckled. Stepping a little closer. Your tail swaying softly as you tilted his head up and bent down. Just locking your lips together with a soft kiss. It was demanding, yet gentle. His lips part as he felt yours land on his. Melting into the kiss, leaning into it as he couldn't resist. He started to feel light-headed and began to breathe in short, swift breaths. Despite cursing himself, he leaned forward, kissing you back. A slight moan slipped from his throat as he got lost in the sensations of the kiss.

You pulled back after that moan. You couldn't have him enjoy himself too much yet. Wiping some saliva from his lips. "That's not so bad, no?" Smiling you stood up straight again. Secondo stayed down. Seeming kind of breathless, his cheeks getting a shade of redness. Looking up at you, his eyes pleaded for more. "More..." His voice was low and surpisingly soft. It was another side of the stoic antipope.

"You're not in a position to make demands, love." The way he looked at you, full of desperation. It was exhilarating. You lifted your skirt, revealing no underwear underneath. "Now, head back and tongue out. Stay down and don't even think about using your hands." Secondos eyes widened for a split second. In a flash his body did exactly as you said, his head fell backwards and his tongue poked out. His cheeks turned a shade darker as he made short, gasping breaths.

"Oh look at you. Panting like that with your tongue out? What are you, a dog?" You smirked, eyes narrowing as an idea struck you. "You'll have to bark for your treat." Wiggling your hips to accentuate your words. He tried so hard to keep himself in check and stop himself from just losing it completely. But then he heard you and his body reacted. He began to whimper a little and tried to do his best dog impression as he gave out a soft bark.

"My my... How can I resist when you play along so nicely?" Moving closer you rested one hand on his shoulder as you stepped over him. Your legs left and right from his, lining yourself up with his face. "Now do what a good doggy does and lick." With that simple command, it was like a switch being flicked on in Secondos head. His whole body started to move autonomously as he went into complete submission mode. Letting out a low whine and then a soft woof. Then he just started lapping away at the spot you told him to. You closed your eyes briefly. Allowing yourself to feel the sensation. Feeling his tongue on your slit, on the sensitive spot above. A content sigh escaping your lips.

His ears perked up as he heard the sigh. Trying so hard to stay focused and not to lose himself in the feeling. But you could see that he loved this. His body slowly began to relax, looking up at you intently when he could. His eyes filled with longing for you, his hips wiggled slightly. Shifting his leg position. Your hands came up to cradle his head. He whimpered softly when you held him like that. Then you started to move yourself. Riding his tongue. Glancing down at the pathetic figure. Noticing the movements of his hips. Smiling while panting slightly. Seconds tongue moved with expert precision. You saw him looking up at you eagerly when his tongue broke contact.

You raised an eyebrow, looking at him displeased. Your breath already quickening. "Did I tell you to stop?" "No... You didn't..." He whined when you spoke to him so harshly. Then you grinned. "Is it getting tight in your pants down there?" He stared up at you from the ground with that same look of desperate longing in his eyes and it's obvious he'll do anything you tell him to. He gave off another soft whine as you spoke and nodded when you asked him the question. "Y-yes..."

After a mere second of thinking you placed one foot between his legs. Pressing down softly at the bulge. "You better continue if you want that pleasure." With a more forceful pull you positioned yourself on his mouth again, rolling your hips. Secondos eyes rolled back and he let out a gasp. Gazing up at you with desire and immense pleasure in his eyes, his body began to tremble. Lowering his head quickly he got back to work, his tongue going harder and faster than before. Continuing doing exactly as you told him to.

"That's it... You feel so perfect..." Your voice got a little shakey, clearly pleased by the sensations. Your foot softly pressing and releasing the boner underneath. Massaging it as your hips moved more intensely. "Am I doing good?" He whimpered as he continued his tongue work. His breath was heavy now and it was clear that he tried to do his best to make you feel as good as possible. You felt soft vibrations as he spoke between your legs. Making you audibly moan as your rhythm got slightly faster. "Tesoro, you're doing very good~" Closing your eyes, your head tilted back. Suddenly gasping as you felt his tongue inside.

He let out a grunt. Trying so hard to please you and now he could see that it was working. You could see him starting to get flustered again but this time it's not him trying to hide his feelings. This time he just let devotion take over him. He was moaning audibly now, his eyes closed in absolute bliss.

The game continued for a while. The air filled with panting and soft growls. The wet sounds of his tongue against you. Sliding in and out. Your foot working him. Feeling how it affected you as his mouth got more aggressive. "So good... So perfect... My fucktoy..." Secondos ears perked up when he heard the words. "My..." His eyes shot open. It felt strangely praising when you said it. It almost felt like something had snapped inside his head. There was a sudden change in his demeanor. He looked up at you, letting out a little whine. "Caro ghuleh..." He said softly.

Your lips parted, another growl escaping you. Feeling almost on edge. "What is it? Do you want to come? Is that it?"

"Y-yes." Squirming under you when you spoke to him. You could see him struggling to make a sentence in his complete daze. You took his head in both hands again, pressing his face right between your legs. Needing more friction. Just a little bit more contact. "F-Fuck.." You were loosing a bit of composure. "I allow you to." You breathed and immediately saw his eyes roll back again. His breath hitching. It almost sounded like a command. You could see it in his eyes, he would do anything you told him to.

He tried to speak, but it was clear he couldn't think very well right now as his body worked on instinct. "Ghuleh..." The sound muffled between your legs. Sending another shiver through your body. Goosebumps pleasantly spilling down your spine. It was only moments after that a wave of pleasure crashed down on you. Swallowing every rational thought. Your mouth hung open as moans and growl rolled through your body. Feeling the ecstasy in every vein. Secondos breath came to a halt and you saw a look of absolute bliss on his face. He continued for a few seconds, then his whole body quivered. Letting out a deep, long moan. Breathing heavily.

It took you some time to be steady on your legs again. Releasing his head, looking down. His cheeks flushed, mouth and chin wet. He looked just so pretty. Through his pants formed a dark spot. He tried to calm his breathing as he looked up at you with that same look of complete devotion. He felt complete and in a total high. "You..." He whispered in awe of you and what just happened. He smiled at you, the warmest smile you ever saw from him.

You held out a claw to him, helping Secondo up again before straightening your skirt. He took your hand and was up on his feet a moment later. A smile still lingering on his face. "Thank you..."

Calming your heartbeat and breathing you returned the smile, fixing your hair. "I told you I know what you need…"

[books-and-catears]

(afab! MC)

Barbatos: MC...could you spare some time? There's a rather urgent situation at hand.

MC: Of course. When do we not have urgent situations at hand?

Barbatos: This one seems to be related to you specifically.

Child: Momma! *runs and hugs MC's legs*

MC: ...What?

Barbatos: That...is in fact the urgent situation at hand. That child wandered through my time portal. I assume they're from the future.

Child: I am! Future momma gave me permission to come see you!

MC: *notices the physical similarities and holds them up gently in their arms* I see... well you're adorable. I'm really glad to meet you.

Simeon: This is a rather wholesome situation.

Levi: Did I die and get reincarnated into a slice of life anime with MC as the protagonist?!

Belphie: A child that looks no older than 10 successfully time travelled to the correct time and place?

Satan: Indeed. The child seems to have inherited MC's strong magic.

Lucifer: Exactly, we could expect nothing less from MC after all. Their child is as exceptional as them.

Asmo: And just as adorable too! MC, look this way I need to click pictures!

Beel: Is the little one hungry? We should get some food for it.

Diavolo: This is rather wonderful! Yet it feels like a calm before the storm...

Luke: The child is so cute, I wonder who the father is.

Mammon: *blushes*

Mammon: It- It has to be the Great Mammon. That kid has white hair like me.

MC: *chuckles* Say, little one, is your father here in this room?

Child: *looks around and frowns* No he isn't.

Solomon: Hey everyone! Sorry I'm late, I heard there was an emergency-

Child: Papa! *points to Solomon*

Solomon: ...

Mammon: WHAT?!

Solomon: Okay I'm definitely missing some much needed context...

Solomon: But the sight of a child that looks incredibly like MC calling me Papa has delightful implications.

[celestialholz]

Live long and fuck in Hondas (or 'why that Vulcan salute is way more significant than you think it is')

Hey. Hey Holz. Did you know Deadpool and Wolverine fucked in the Odyessy? Did you know that they now live in a one-bed with Blind Al? Did you know that -

Yes, friend. I know all of it. And you're all super fucking valid for pointing it out.

... But maybe all of you aren't seasoned Trekkies like me. Maybe not all of you gorgeous people understand the true significance of this.

Or maybe you just want a definitive way to win the argument of "are these two fucking?"

But either way, I'm here to help, and to tell you why, amongst all the absurdly homoerotic text of this film, this moment? Might be the gayest of them all.

Now, we must start by saying that although you wouldn't know it from the bullshit Abrams films, these two:

Are the fathers of gay fanfiction. Spock and Kirk here are the reason you're living in the fantastic timeline where you can write/read men fucking without any other shred of plot and that this is a legitimate and normalised internet experience - everyone say thank you, iconic papas. These guys were so homoerotically coded that even in the 60s, the era of wondrously overdramatic performances of all kinds and fairly prevalent homophobia, The Girlies still took notice, still started mailing each other fics and making zines and being just hugely excited at the thought of these two getting space-married. They are fandom as we know it today's beginning, and seventy years later they're still an enduringly popular ship on AO3. (You should all go and watch Amok Time, by the way. Contains the Honda Odyessy scene of the 60s, except there's weird biology and wrestling and just go and put it on your screens, thank me later. They fucked on that planet.)

Anyway, these two were as close as early colour TV could ever allow two men to be, deepening their *coughs* friendship almost every single episode or film - Trek's creator Gene Roddenberry even gave them a unique word in Spock's Vulcan language, with the meaning of 'friend, brother, lover.' (And if that isn't ringing any Poolverine bells, I'm not actually sure what you want out of this post. Enjoy it anyway, love you.)

... And then we get to 1982's The Wrath of Khan, and to that moment that every iconic screen couple must face - the ol' classic, it's you or me and I won't let it be you.

Sure, the set-up's a little different here - the chamber Spock's in is filled with radiation, and the scene's quieter, softer. And Kirk isn't a mutant so he can't smash his way in, he can just sit there and inwardly die as his emotional support Vulcan does.

... But you get where I'm coming from here. Ryan Reynolds doesn't take a million other potential love scenes from across the cinematic ages - no, he takes this. What is for many the romantic acknowledgement of a whole generation. The humble and desperately sweet beginning of it everything we fans know and love nowadays. The most ambiguously romantic homosexual relationship in television, directly comparative to what is now arguably the most ambiguously romantic homosexual relationship in cinema. And lest we forget, Wade doesn't believe in a fourth wall - this is a conscious choice, both in canon and in the writer's room.

Oh it's so clever and so beautiful a girl could weep. Ryan just introduced the MCU to the gays, just as Kirk and Spock did all those years ago to the masses of the time.

And then there's what it means.

This is the Vulcan salute, created to mean either 'live long and prosper' or 'peace and long life' - it's used more or less interchangeably.

But part of that's irrelevant when you're as immortal as these two.

So we're left with the sentiments of prosperity and peace, given to a man who up to this point can't imagine ever prospering again, is the furthest thing away from being at peace. Wade gives Logan the opportunity to go on, to find the things he's been lacking for so long now - things he has already helped him find. Spock tells Kirk during The Wrath that 'the needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few,' and that's exactly what Wade's doing here - sacrificing himself for the greater good of his friends and his newly beloved, however much it will hurt them all.

And that's lovely, and poignant, and character-growing, and I think we all would have been content to leave it at that and have our noble sacrifice, however much we would have wept. Kirk goes on to find the remnants of Spock's soul in the next film in the series, to bring him essentially back from the dead because he felt it was more than his own soul's worth not to have done... which, again, ringing a bell anyone?

Because Logan, in not so many words, tells dear Wade to fuck right off, and we get this.

What we've got here is a direct translation of one of cinema's gayest moments, made somehow infinitely more gay. A true achievement here - I genuinely think I spontaneously acquired tetanus in the cinema for a good minute, my jaw dropped so hard on seeing this. The pillars are the same colour as Kirk and Spock's original uniforms, for fuck's sake. I'm dying out here.

What we've done here is create narrative equality. The whole film's kinda done that leading up to this anyway - they're both mentally fucked up men who can't die, who are constantly dying anyway, who are evenly-matched in battle and both enjoy Honda fucking, who have forged a real love even as they piss each other off at every turn.

But here, they place one another in narrative equality for the first time. It's not about a sacrifice, not now, even though they're assuming it is one - it's about what should be done. It's about righting wrongs, being heroes, being together because every option other than that is unacceptable, because neither understands quite how to lose anyone else. They've both made the same choice, and that's not to let the other die alone.

It's about holding hands and loving and never letting go, even if it kills them.

... It's just about the most romantic and gorgeous thing I've ever fucking seen.

There are no more instances of masks, once they're done in this station. They don't need them any longer; they will never need them again.

And that's only emphasised by the parting shot we get of this... almost directly after Vanessa and Wade share a final sweet look.

I don't know, man. It's almost like the true conclusion is hidden behind the acceptable masquerade. Imagine that in the MCU, folks.

They've taken one of the most intimate and sweet moments in screen history, and made even more glorious.

They did The Wrath of Khan better than The Wrath of Khan did it.

And that's... that's gay. That's just about the gayest thing they could ever have done, and I adore it to the smallest pieces.

So remember, the next time your friends disbelieve you... show 'em this. Show them that they redid the very beginnings of slash fandom, and did it better.

(And then you can add on that they now live in a one-bed with their grandma, daughter and dog, and will do for the rest of their lives. Kirk and Spock didn't even get THAT shit.)

[verstarppen]

summary; slowly but surely that fake dating plan you cooked up starts leaving its confined lines

pairing; mick schumacher x fem!reader [ no faceclaim ]

a/n; babe wake up star finally made a mick smau this demands a national celebration; title is count me in by they. because i was listening to it when this story idea appeared between my brain folds TW for mention of food poisoning and hospitals (comedic purposes) but if you're in a place where this might make you uncomfortable i strongly suggest you avoid this post and i'll see you for the lando series update tomorrow, take care

liked by georgerussell63, lewishamilton, mickschumacher and 295,953 others

ynusername favourite necklace

view all 63,029 comments

georgerussell63 I so desperately wish my ability to read would disappear.

ynusername you got us in this mess now suffer the consequences georgerussell63 I didn't do shit, it's entirely on your shoulders.

mickschumacher why aren't you holding them

ynusername no hand holding before marriage please

houseofwebber if they ever break up you'll see me on the news actually

eastcoastbearman babe wake up micky/n are alive

lewishamilton Embarrassing.

ynusername just like this comment

liked by georgerussell63, logansargeant, mickschumacher and 590,201 others

ynusername took the dog out for a walk

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rothgothgasly stop calling me single in 29 different languages

albonite PARENTS ARE PARENTING

julyestie maman and papa

filipe3596 Hi God it's me again

setbackhamilttel mick the type of guy to say "i don't argue with my girl she tells me to shut up and i do"

ynusername it's true mickschumacher yeah setbackhamilttel THE LEGENDS REPLY!?

liked by estebanocon, totowolff, ynusername and 890,294 others

mickschumacher visiting my favorite corpse

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ynusername EXCUSE YOU I CAN EAT SOLID FOODS NOW

mickschumacher i did that on day 4 get good ynusername sorry that my guts aren't as cool as yours mickschumacher let me rearrange them, then ynusername that was smoother than my throw up

mclandolorian HE ESCAPED

baconforza weren't you also a corpse like 2 days ago

armstrongslayer ARE THE RUMOURS ABOUT THE FAKE DATING TRUE

ynusername anything to piss george off

liked by mickschumacher, lewishamilton, georgerussell63 and 201,506 others

ynusername if a doctor sees this for legal reason these are old pictures :)

view all 80,577 comments

lewishamilton And to think this all could've happened sooner had you people had the balls to say what should've been said.

ynlantern just like a bowl of cereal that's been collecting dust for an hour, it's still delicious in the end innit lewishamilton All's well that ends well, I guess.

vertiddieenjoyer the only people on earth that can go on a first date after 12 months of dating

nandogoat ao3 friends to lovers, fake dating, only one bed, 294k words, alternative universe - europe, no beta we die like mick's career in haas

osc_pastry i don't think they realize how funny this is to watch from the sidelines

pic credits: instagram and pinterest

blog taglist: @coffeehurricanes @iifloweringnightsii @jsjcue @lanando4 @fastcarsandshit @christianpulisic10 (hi besties hope you're having a lovely evening and you aren't also crying about the qatar quali)

[ohimsummer]

✎ . . .❝ PUSSY PRIVILEGES ARE GONE ❞

— talking about pussy + one mention of “dick privileges”, whiny satoru, poly! satosugu x afab! reader, serial manspreader + sassy man Suguru, black reader in mind :3

“You can’t do this to me.” Silence. “Baby, pleaseee!”

“Nah.,” you scoff. “Over with, pussy privileges are gone, and that’s final.”

“All because I don’t like the nickname?,” Suguru asks besides you, head cocked like a puppy.

You tug at Satoru’s strong hold around your waist. “Yep. Can’t get a kiss, can’t give my boyfriend a nickname. You two don’t love me anymore.”

Suguru crosses his arms over his chest, sinking further into the couch, traces of a pout falling over his face. He sighs. “What’s wrong with just calling me Sugu?”

You fight helplessly against Satoru, ignoring his continuous whining as he pulls you back into his lap. “What’s wrong with calling you ‘Papa Sugs’?”

“You can’t be serious.”

Huffing, with Satoru’s overdramatic and agonized moaning in the background. “Pft. Imma show you some damn serious.”

Suguru’s chuckle, exasperation creeping up the edges. “Sure. You’re gonna ban us from your pussy for…?”

“Indefinitely.,” you grunt, finally prying yourself from Satoru’s grip in his shock at your response.

“Baby!,” he whines, blinking shiny blue eyes at you beneath white lashes. “Baby, I-“

“Ohhh, so now I’m baby?”, you tease, rolling your eyes. “I wasn’t baby when you weren’t kissing me back, loser.”

“It was a joke!” Gojo puffs out his cheeks. “I’m a changed man, I promise.”

“Oh, okay.,” you smile at the knit of his brows. “You’re gonna be a changed man, alright.”

Satoru falls over into Suguru’s lap, stuffing his face into aforementioned man’s shirt and whining a muffled ,”You sooo hate us.”

“Whatever.,” you brush them off with a wave of your hand, heading to the kitchen. “Consider it a lesson in punishment.”

Six days. Just shy of a week before Suguru shows signs of cracking, because Satoru couldn’t withstand this whole thing to begin with. He’d tried everything from begging to gifts to taking your ‘dick privileges’, and then being immediately thwarted with a flick of your vibrator.

“That thing’s gonna replace us?,” Suguru snorts, nibbling the inside of his cheeks.

“It’ll do for now.,” you giggle with a raise of your chin. In truth, it didn’t even come close, but you’re far too petty to admit that.

“Can’t believe that is gonna get more action than me.,” Satoru groans into the pillows. “I’m gonna die at this rate.”

“Good.,” and he jolts up with wide eyes at your response. “I’ll make an example out of you for Geto.”

Satoru drags himself up to pout in your direction. "You could at least call me Satoru, he's the one you're upset with about names."

"No, first names are for boyfriends only."

Suguru lays sprawled out on the bed, legs spread open in retaliation, tapping around on his phone. "Oh? And when did we lose boyfriend privileges?"

"Since just then."

Both men narrow their eyes at you, glancing at eachother before Suguru massages a temple, lids fluttering as his eyes roll to the back of his head. "Fine, we're terrible boyfriends. Happy now?"

You adjust the towel around your chest, and disappear into the bathroom for a shower. "Nope, but I'm glad y'all know."

Ever dramatic, Satoru points an accusatory finger at Suguru. "This is your fault, she didn't take these privileges until you and that whole Papa Sug nonsense!"

"Well, you started it."

Their bickering raises bouts of giggles in your throat. Water spouts from the shower head when you turn the knob, and you tinker for a few minutes to get it to a temperature of your liking. At the sound of your 'ahem', both men go silent.

"First one to join me in the shower gets pussy privileges ba–“

There's a sound of rapid scuffling, Satoru's 'ow!', and then a flash of dark hair as Suguru slams and locks the door behind him.

"Not fair, I fell!," Satoru whines from the other side, jiggling the knob.

"Desperate are we?," you flash your tongue at Suguru as he strips bare.

"Mm." comes his quiet response, not wanting to fully admit this little game of yours was a lot more painstaking than he let on.

"Does that mean I get to call you Papa Sugs now?" Before he can open his mouth, you add, "If not then you gotta get out."

"Yes, kick him out!," Satoru pipes in, door now wide open and you notice the knob is not as attached as it was before.

Suguru sighs, throwing his shirt in Satoru's face before pinching your waist, and he smirks when you give a small yelp. "Fine."