hollanov captain/rookie roleplay. ilya asking his captain if this is what wins them cups, shane nodding and panting little uh huhs as ilya fucks into him, bent over. 'is this what makes you work?' ilya says, watching as shane fucks himself back onto ilya's dick. 'this is why you chose me? so i could fuck your hole good? you ask coach, find me the biggest cock?' hauling his captain up, up, up, until the man has his back to ilya's chest and ilya can whisper the words into his ear. 'it's okay. i'll make sure we keep winning; you score the goals with me, and i let you choke on it in the locker room. let them see what really drives shane hollander to be the best.'
yeah i couldn't wait it's duncan/lyonel snippet time folks (still very early in the show but the idea hit and i couldn't stop myself so! forgive any mischaracterization i'm still learning)
cw: a/b/o, some possessive lyonel, no smut but suggestive and heading that direction, alpha lyonel, omega duncan, implications of rape/non-con happening to duncan in the past but everything here is very consensual!
"You, little knight, have been the most interesting thing about this Gods' damned tourney."
The man chews thoughtfully for a moment, before his brows furrow. "Little?" He asks, head cocked, and Gods above, if he were a weaker man, he'd force him against the table and kiss the stupid out of him. Instead, he grins, lets his fingers wander up Duncan's thighs until his hands are full of thick muscle. Half in his lap, eyes glinting, watching the other man's eyes go wide. He lets his nails dig, inhales deep as he presses up to crowd further within his space. Duncan presses back against the chair, propriety and instinct alike making him retreat quick enough the legs scrape against the floor. His scent is wild—fearful, yes, but more than that, interested. The woods at its richest; fall-damp leaves, truffles and rich soil; something incense, holy and thick, clouding over the rest of it. Something dark and rumbling underneath, the roar of his own thunderous scent mirrored in the Omegas. He'll fight the entire world if that's what it takes to keep his scent in Dunk's. To keep this interesting little Omega within his hands so he can see how he ticks. "Now, now," he chides, and Duncan goes stock-still, like a hart caught in the gaze of a hunter. "Your lord hasn't finished speaking yet."
"You were saying, ser," Duncan mumbles, throat bobbing. His head doesn't turn, no Omega submission despite his demure demeanor. It makes his own scent rise up, another clap of thunder, croon building in his throat because he's exactly the kind of creature he's been waiting for. And Gods, the apple of his throat is the perfect size for his teeth; he'd love to make a mark right there, to let the whole damn tourney know that he has claimed this one.
"You could stumble into any tent you wanted, you know. Pretty thing like you. Strong. Tall. Capable."
"Pretty?" Dunk echoes back, brows furrowed. He's peering down through his lashes, blue eyes starting to glaze just a little. Flushed, his Omega, and it makes something proud in his Alpha to cause that. More than that, it makes him angry, that no one has recognized the beauty sitting before them. Of course, he cannot blame them—dressed like a farmer with the scent to match—it's hard to tell that such a fascinating creature lies underneath.
"Beautiful," he croons, pushing up on Duncan's thighs to press the words just above his mouth. "Beautiful, precious thing. I like my Omegas with grit. I like them strong. I like them interesting. And you, hedge knight, are the most interesting of them all."
"Oh," Duncan breathes, hot and warm against his mouth. He inhales, licking his lips. Even just a breath is enough to savor. "Thank you, ser?" Nerves, now. He's agonizing again.
"Don't think too hard, treasure. Come with me. Let me show you how pretty you are. How pretty I could make you."
"I wouldn't want to impose—"
"I am asking because I want to preen over you. You, tall as you are, will impose wherever you go. Impose on me. I'll bring every damn blanket in this camp so you have a nest big enough for you."
"Never had one of those," Duncan admits off-handedly. "I'll only disappoint."
"You," he hisses, reaching up to take Duncan's face within his hands. "Have been deprived, and I am going to fix it. Say, 'Yes.'"
Duncan's hands go to his hips to keep him from falling. Big and warm, thumbs naturally finding the path to run along. He swallows heavily, eyes squeezing shut, but his scent is already answering. That fear has turned honey sweet; his arousal is cloying. Want me, it begs. Take me.
"You're too kind, ser, really."
"Yes or no, Ser Duncan?" He asks again. Because if he says 'No,' then he will sulk, and plot, and find a way to charm the man into his bed. His castle. His life. And the man is noble—the kind of man who has not existed for centuries. He knows the man will try to be rational, and honorable, and say 'No.' But he knows what the man's Omega wants. And it seems the man has never honored it in his life. Which is a pity, and a shame that will soon be corrected. "I've taken care of you thus far, haven't I?" He murmurs, fingers sliding along the path of his cheeks. Trails up towards his ears, and oh, he can see it now. The gold glinting in the light, the curlings of an antler winding along the shell of his ear.
"I'm no virgin," Duncan admits, low, like it is a thing to be ashamed of.
"Was it gifted, or stolen?" He asks, voice low. A threat, but not to whom Duncan thinks it is aimed towards.
"Stolen," he admits after a long moment. "But it is of no matter—"
"It is of matter to me. A matter of great import, even. I have told you what I do to heretics—not what I will do to thieves. Give me a name, Duncan, and it will be done."
"It's already done. He's dead."
"A shame, then. I will have to give you something else." He cradles Duncan's face within his hands, grip just a bit too tight. Possessive. Eager. Body itching with the need to provide, to protect, to cherish. He plays often, perhaps too often for an Alpha of his status, but he knows how to tend to what is his. And he is not playing with this one. Not Duncan. Not this Omega, not one that he wishes to keep, to covet, to wed.
Perhaps he is getting a bit ahead of himself.
"One night," he murmurs, drawing fingers down to trace the sweat along the top of Duncan's lip. Eager to taste it, but he can be restrained. "Give me one night, Ser Duncan, to show you what you will have if you are mine. And then you can decide whether it is truly something you can deny."
"One night," Duncan says against his fingers. "Alright. One night, ser."
"Good lad." And oh, it's heart breaking and enticing both, to see how quickly Duncan's scent rises at such an easy praise. "Come on, now."
"The boy—"
"Your pup," he teases, watching as Duncan's face becomes rich in color. "Will be tended to all the same. Treated as one of my own, even. He'll be safe. Cared for. We can escort him to the tent next to mine, even, if that will ease your spirit."
"That will be—thank you, ser."
"Let's go, then," he pats Duncan's cheek, though takes a moment to settle in his lap. Grins, sharp, when he feels the man hard underneath him, curious to see just how slick he is from a bit of teasing.
"Mercy, ser," Duncan begs, fingers tightening around his hips, and oh, does he like the shape of that upon his lips. "At least until the boy is—"
"Of course," he soothes, sliding off of Duncan without even teasing. "What I give you is a gift, Duncan. You may refuse any part of it. I am here to serve you."
The other man's eyes go wide. "That doesn't make any sense, ser. I mean no disrespect."
"You've met a lot of shite Alphas, Ser Duncan. I will not be one of them. Besides," he leans in close, lets his hand go to Duncan's neck, thumb just able to roll against the gland at the side. "I prefer my Omegas screaming in pleasure, not in fear or pain."
Barista bingyuan (xianxia edition), Binghe stumbles into the teahouse all bloodied and wounded, what then. What if Shen Yuan doesn’t recognize it's the protagonist because 1) the system is under maintenance and 2) Binghe's fan art doesn't even hold a single candle to the real thing. So now Shen Yuan has to get used to having this absolutely gorgeous guy who reminds him of someone he can't pinpoint, until he heals. What could possibly go wrong amirit?
(BingZU, fresh out of the abyss and being the new demon king, is on an escapade and for certain reasons needs to stop his pro healing abilities and pretend to be a normal guy)
Being asexual and getting to write Grace during all of this "bloodymary but timeline is different" stuff is actually great because I can project onto him as much as I want. No, Grace doesn't like kissing directly on the mouth either actually. Boom. Now I never have to write it. It's that easy. Cheek, forehead, neck, literally everywhere else is free game. And by god I am going to still have these fuckers kissing, just not on the mouth
(Sidenote; I still have yet to meet someone who is in a position where they work in a lab on the regular and isn't weird about germs. Like it freaks them out, especially ass stuff. I don't know what "Diseases Bodies Can Share" class they're putting these mfs through but it's apparently very traumatizing. I like to think Grace is equally as weird about it as a result)
