APOLLO, GOD OF MUSIC ... β conquest x medic!superhero!m!reader prt.1
you were retired, for gods sake. why in the hell would everything go to shit exactly when you were on vacation? you struggled to even comprehend the fact that there were more than one invincibles flying around, and now the city was falling apart all around you? retired or not, there were people who needed help and that's what you planned to do, no matter how reluctant you were about it.
... so how the hell did you manage to get yourself wrapped up with the very alien who was turning this city into a fine dust?
> author's note β this is incredibly self-indulgent and the first time i've written in literal months LOL so sorry for being inactive for so long !! this was inspired by dj subatomic supernova from NSR, lucio from overwatch and luna snow from marvel rivals ... i love me a silly guy who makes music and heals people via that music :-) not that subatomic heals people ... more like ........ he tries to kill them via music and his planets ........ but whatever !!! this is irrelevant !!!!!!
( i was gonna have this be smut originally but i like where i ended off to continue into a part two soon ^_^ so sorry if anything is bad i am very rusty ... feel free to send me some thirsts in my inbox if you'd like! )
> word count β 1.6k
> featuring β our fave viltrumite, conquest <3
> cw β intentional lower case, canon typical violence, unspoken death threats? nothing much really its mostly establishing how your relationship came to be before things get steamy LOL so sorry for the bait
MDNI. 18+ ACCOUNT, YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED.
you had parted ways with the GDA some time ago, marking it off as a need for something new. you could only fight so long, for so much. you had been in the spotlight ever since your powers had finally developed, being someone who could virtually heal anything with the power of music. it was rather silly in your eyes but it made you and anyone you wanted to protect virtually invincible. any wounds or injuries would mend in seconds in your presence, people feeling safe around you, other heroes feeling energised to keep on fighting. at some point, you felt the same way until⦠you didn't. it had only been a matter of time, after all.
the GDA was desperate to keep you so you kept their number just in case things were to happen. that is, until something finally did happen. it was a random tuesday, you think. you had been on the way to your hotel in the city for your little vacation, you had been waiting for so long for it. tapping into your savings from working with the guardians to afford it. you were happy, life was good. you had a nice car, a nice place far from the city, a couple dogs, cats, and one snake that you loved dearly. you were single, not that you minded much actually.
so what exactly happened? how the hell did your car end up split in half by falling debris and cradling the lifeless body of some innocent civilian that got extremely unlucky? you could barely wrap your mind around it.
it was hard to try and keep your music up enough to keep yourself safe, but to try and sweep in and aid those who were helpless was something else entirely. you let out a loud groan of frustration as you carefully set the body down somewhere undisturbed, making a mental note to come back for it later. you had to keep up, getting as many people out of there as you could, but there was always the few that escaped your grasp, all falling victim to some horrible fate that no amount of healing nor music could help. you couldn't get distracted.
you were glad you had kept the equipment the GDA had made for you, even gladder to have kept it close. the music coming off of the holographic speakers around you was loud, a beacon of hope in the midst of the destruction around you, but it kept people safe and you kept playing. you kept far away from the fighting as much as you could, ushering innocents away from their very close deaths. of course, you were putting a big ole target on your head with how loud it all was, but you couldn't care less. sounds waves were blasting anything that came your way, cracking open asphalt that trapped some poor kid underneath it all. you could spot the blood pooling next to him, his mother probably. you grimaced and carried him away, making sure to heal whatever cuts and bruises he had. thankfully, unharmed physically. mentally⦠you wouldn't wish that on your worst enemy.
you were doing your job well, keeping things somewhat peaceful until you spotted a stray arm sticking out of some debris. you quickly flew over, pushing off any concrete that held this person down. your heart beating frantically in your chest, you dug as much as you could, hoping that they didn't die before you got there. you grabbed at their hand and pulled as much as you could, using your sound waves to blast at the concrete as you did so. you let out a sigh of relief as you felt the warm from their palm, squeezing it in reassurance. you passed your fingers over their wrist, trying to find their pulse but no dice. so you used your powers to heal whatever injuries they might've sustained, a soothing melody that has the person feeling mushy.
"hey, are you okay?!" you shouted over the chaos around you, hand reaching out to grip at their shoulder. you pulled as hard as you can, thinking to yourself, holy fuck this guy is heavy as hell. you were about to yell again until the hand grabbed at your own roughly, your joints creaking in protest as it did so.
"woah--" you couldn't even finish your sentence before a giant man emerged from the rubble in front of you. he was much, much taller than you, and built like a fucking tank. if you weren't scared shitless, you would have asked him where he worked out. your jaw dropped, staring at the stranger before you.
conquest was having fun with this. he was having fun with all of this! this planet's defences were as measly as he had imagined, so it wasn't a surprise when the creatures that inhabited it were squished by a simple rock to their soft spots. but he was pleasantly surprised by its defender. a halfbreed viltrumite, weak like all those other flesh bags, but much more resilient. the worm even got him to bleed, which was a surprise in itself.
so who was this, mending the little scrapes and bruises that his body has yet to heal? why did it feel⦠good? like a warm feeling throughout his body, a hum of a familiar tune that made him want to⦠sleep? what the hell was this? it feels odd, he feels light. lighter than he would when he's flying, it was something else entirely. the touch was soft, much unlike he's ever felt before. a gentle squeeze, a faint hold. it was a strange combination, nothing like he's felt before. he let out a rough grunt, grabbing at the hand that was given to him, rising from the rubble he was buried underneath.
conquest brought up the creature that had healed him by the arm, thick brows furrowed as he stared down at it. it was fearful, trying to wrestle out of his iron grip and escape. but the viltrumite was curious about it now, who exactly was this worm? and was it so stupid to not know its own enemy?
you were gonna throw up. of course, of course you healed the wrong person. just your luck that you had healed THE VERY FUCKING THING THAT WAS CAUSING ALL THIS DEATH AND DESTRUCTION IN THE FIRST PLACE. you let out a pained noise as his grip around your wrist tightened, trying to just get away. you could keep yourself safe when fighting anything but a viltrumite? this was something else entirely.
you were smarter than to try and use your offensive powers against him, so instead, you allowed yourself to play a somewhat scattered melody to heal the broken bones within your hand and wrist. he tilted his head to the side, examining you like a piece of meat. i suppose that was what you were now. a stupid, musical adept piece of meat for him to tear into.
closing your eyes, you couldn't believe this was the day you would die. you didn't even get to take your vacation.
⦠but nothing happens? it's been a couple minutes, he should've killed you by now. you crack your eye open and take a look at him, startled by his one eyed gaze. his pupils are slits, examining you like you were some foreign⦠thing. and then he smiles. it's an unsettling one, but he grabs you by the waist, a much gentler hold than what he had on your wrist.
"you're the foolish one who helped me, aren't you?" his deep voice rings out over your healing melody and the rumbling chaos around you both.
you're speechless for a moment before nodding frantically, looking around for anything, anyone. unfortunately, no dice. it was just you, him and the fuck metric ton of dead bodies that he caused around you.
"hmmβ¦" conquest mutters to himself. it was a strange feeling, the closer you were to him, the more that strange warm feeling seeped deep into his bones. he couldn't help but let out a deep purr that rattled you silly. he was like a big cat to you, a big, murderous psychotic cat. with his arms around you, it wasβ¦ comforting? in a really, really fucked up way. you swallowed thickly as you stared up at him as he smiled down at you, what the fuck is going on?
"what is your name, worm?" the stranger asked, examining your face closely as he spoke. your mouth was dry, gaping like a fish out of water. his arms was tightening around you the longer you took to answer him and you stammered out your full legal out of sheer nervousness. he didn't seem like a patient man at all.
he repeats it under his breath, it rolls off nicely on his tongue. his arms lighten around your waist, your ribs definitely bruised after all this. you let out a groan, brain too scattered to make a coherent melody to heal yourself. instead, you looked back to him as his grin widened. crooked teeth and a prominent scar, you would have called him handsome if you weren't actively in danger of being ripped apart by this alien.
"β¦ perhaps lord thragg wouldn't mind if i kept a pet, hm?" conquest purrs, that metallic hand reaching up and tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. "a healing songbird, doesn't that sound nice? my little songbird." you barely have enough time to speak before he takes off with you in his arms, away from the destruction and chaos that he caused.
mark was clueless as to why conquest had disappeared all of the sudden. in a blink of an eye, he was alone, beaten and bruised on the ground. it gave him time to breathe but it was nerve wracking to think about.
What the fuck just happened?
all works belong to c-nstellati-ns β 2025. do not steal, repost or feed into AI. ask before translating.
*crawls* conquest forcing you a young spry guy to breed him out of nowhere when you were just off doing business and now you have a litter of pups and he still riding you until you turn into those dry ass tops *runs*
I love old men...
Hero reader and conquest hmm...Β
Conquest putting reader in the amazonian position hmm....Β
Like, reader isn't even one of the big heroes, like he hasn't even been asked to join a team, but he's strong enough to land a punch on conquest during a fight. He would have been able to land more, if he hadn't been so distracted. Conquest is just so fucking hot, how could he not be hard the entire time?Β
Conquest crushing the reader against the ground, ready to crush his skull, only for his brows to furrow, nose to flare and a crooked feral grin stretching on to his lips. βVery well, worm. I will admit your proposition is tempting, for such a weaklingβ cuz viltrumites fight as foreplay.Β
Reader gets fucked with a concussion and dude doesn't even care, hands gripping Conquests legs and hands, eyes rolling and back arching. Conquest doesn't have the most experience, but god, having such a heavy muscular guy slamming down on his dick and aching hips is more than enough.Β
Conquest laughing and mocking the reader for only being able to βspill your seedβ once, and that he should βprove your worth, wormβ. Viltrumite, conquestussy level milking and overstimulation. I know that viltrumite hole is lethal, especially for a normal hero like the reader.Β
Reader ends up saving earth cuz Conquests spends his time riding dick and milking him dry, instead of destroying invincible and the planet. Give this guy a medal.Β
Conquest gripping the readers chin and telling him he will be back when all it said and done, and that reader will become acceptable with time. This is just the viltrumite speaking, he really enjoyed himself. Plus, reader looks cute sobbing with pleasure and overstimulation.Β
After Conquest leaves, reader is just limp, sucked completely dry, and he swears his hips have to be broken. Savior of the planet, laying in the hospital bed in the GDA, with his hips in a cast, covered in bruises and a neck brace. βIt was all worth itβ he says, thinking about that big heavy guy sitting on his face.Β
Mark pulling up, unaware of what the reader actually did to βdefeatβ Conquest to thank him. And readers still dehydrated, exhausted and seeing double from how good and intense it was. βyeah... no worries man... he can come back if he wants, I can take himβ reader slurs. And mark thinks βin a fight, he meansβ. Yeah... not in a fight.Β
ππππππππ. male reader γ³established relationship γ³ sexual content: top!patrick, sadist!patrick, bottom!reader, masochist!reader, rough!sex, slapping, bondage, light dom/sub dynamics, throat-fucking, breeding.
It hurts. Everything hurts whenever you were with Patrick Bateman.
Not only did you get a thrill out of being treated like you were a disgrace to society, you encouraged Patrickβto slap you harder until your cheeks welted with splotches of red, to spit on you with a veil of disgust in his expression, to tighten the hemp bounds around your wrists until the teeth of the rope broke flesh with its strengthβ you had no plans on surrendering to the pain, because you were a good boy.
It was undisputed that you were Patrickβs good boy.
You were a good boy that took Patrickβs large and throbbing dick however he pleased. It made you whimper, when the weight of his heavy cock renewed the sting in your battered cheek. Slapping the fresh wound with his swinging cock. Smearing his pre-cum over your bruises like it was calming ointment. You attempted to persuade Patrick to shift his priorities elsewhere with the enticing opening of your mouth, the lick your lips, but Patrick was always a step ahead of you. Laughed at you, he loved doing that, when he pulled his dick away from your mouth at the last second after agonizing minutes of smelling the scent of his leaking cockhead.
He loved tormenting you, unraveling you into a puddle of despair until your consciousness was only responsive to the simple presence of Patrick and his thick cock. βPlease, please, please,β you begged, and through your desperation, Patrick was proud to reward you for your patience. Though, only after branding your cheek with a seething smack.
βAnother peep out of you, and Iβm throwing you out onto the streets. Donβt interrupt me ever again. Got that, bitch?β
He held your nape and slid himself down your throat in one smooth push. You choked on your own spit, on your own gags as Patrick forced those glorious sounds of regret and distress into the valley of your tight throat. He was negligent of your own well-being, priding himself on the fact that your body was in reserve for Patrick only.
Until his cock was shoved down to the root. Until your swollen mouth was pressed to the well-groomed pubic area of his body. Until he could feel your throat tighten in futile attempts to swallow his dick down. Until you were in tears because you were at the brink of blacking out. Patrick held your neck tighter, slapping your cheeks in both wonder and in rapture. Ten seconds became twenty. Twenty seconds became forty. A minute becomes two. Copious amounts of drool was leaking out of the corners of your mouth, dripping onto his satin sheetsβyou were absolutely going to pay for that mess.
And you happily will, because you were Patrickβs good boy.
Once he was done throat-fucking you, you should be surrendering, weakly waving a white flag in the air because Patrick had gone too far. You should be begging for mercy, to be let go, to be freed from the ropes that bound you to his headboard. It wasnβt like you could escape, all you could do was tug. Tug hard at the ropes, twist until the friction had seared marks onto your wrists, but it was all hopeless, the headboard wouldnβt budge. Not a single wobble. You could see wrath and lust in Patrickβs gaze when he pushed your legs back βtill your knees touched your chest, and right there, this was your chance to escape. You should demand him to stop before it was too lateβbut you didnβt, because why would you?
Why would you want the pain to stop, when you havenβt gotten a taste of what true pain felt like? When Patrick breached your unprepared hole in one strong thrust, it knocked the tears out of you and stunned you into silence. You felt meek, full of shame and guilt because you were losing yourself to this manβs violent need to completely rapture you like you were some kind of roadkill. Your cock throbbed in excitement as Patrick battered your insides, fucking like he could bruise your gut and see the color bloom at the most tender spots on your body.
He was big, he was so fucking big, and your hole was gripping him, pleading for him to slow down, but that only aroused Patrick, driving his cock forward and back harder, ripping your ass into two. Faster. Harder. Slamming the headboard into the wall with the impact of his thrusts. Smacking his strong, toned thighs against the back of your sweaty legs. It felt like a thousand pin-needles prickling your thighs, then at your face, when Patrick smacked you out of the blueβbecause he can.
Again, because he owned you.
Again, because you would take it like a good boy.
Again, because you came without his permission.
And again, because although he would never admit it, you looked so pretty crying, splattering cum all over your body while begging for him to hit you harder for the happy accident.
You were taking him, letting Patrick bury his juicy cock inside of you to the root. Churning your hole like he was on a mission to gut you until he was left with shattered bones to fuck. Your piercing cries echoed in the room. Patrickβs large shaft unrelenting and unforgiving, punching your prostate more than a multiple of times to milk your orgasm.
Patrick fucked you with deep strokes, fiery passion in his eyes, veins pulsing from biceps to forearms, sweat stuck to his fringe briefly before he pushed them back to free his visionβbecause he grunted with completion. He needed to see the marbling of your eyes, the pair rolling back into your eye sockets as he filled your violated hole with warm and thick seed. His hands on your hips were bruising, nails digging into your skin while he rocked your body into his cock, creaming your insides until his balls had tightened from the emptiness. You could feel your hole leaking with his cum, trickling out of you like a combusted can of whipped cream.
Then all was quiet as Patrick caught his breath, staring at your bounded wrecked body like it was slaughtered meat hung up to dry-age. His fingers ran over your ribs, smearing your splatters of cum from one side to the other, nails scraping over your collarbones, then scoffed.
βDonβt you think you should be punished for coming before me? I ought to rope that bitch cock of yours. Open your mouth.β
He was lethal, and you knew he wasnβt good for you, but you couldnβt get enough. You would do anything for him. You were afraid of the person he had turned you into, all by means of his abuse, of his large cock, but you were too far gone.
You were devoted to Patrick, loyal, and honorable.
And most importantly, you were his.
nouearth. please do not repost, plagiarize, or translate my works. if you like this story, please reblog and leave a like!
summary: the emperors have given the general a gift.
pairing: general marcus acacius x male reader
word count: 1.7k
warnings: smut, rough dom, top marcus, bottom male reader, sex pollen pic
a/n: im seeing the movie tomorrow!
masterlist
A chill rolled down the generalβs spine as he entered the throne room. Two golden chairs sat atop a dais, shining under the sunlight. Seated were the emperorβs with their bone white togas and their red hair. Acacius has seen great monsters in his conquests, but none as bloodthirsty and mad as these two.Β
He was still bloodied from battle, dirt and soot covered his body, his chestplate dented and scratched. He dropped his sword on the marble floor, the clang of metal echoing the palace walls.Β
βYou have brought great honor to Rome, General,β the Emperor Geta said. His golden eyes gleaming with pride and greed under the sunlight. He gestures at the servants below the dais, where they fetch the generalβs sword and pour him a glass of wine. The Emperor takes a sip of wine, the corners of his mouth smirking roguishly.Β
βA feast must be made in your honor,β the younger emperor shouted in joy. βWith the finest meals and a celebration in the colosseum!βΒ
βNone is required, my emperors,β the general spoke. βI only wish for someone to tend to my wounds and a soft bed to lay in tonight.βΒ
He took a sip of his wine, the bitterness helped distract the ache in his body. He saw Caracalla whispering something to his brother, snickering and chuckling under his breath. Getaβs eyes widened, a smile forming from his lips.Β
βVery well,β Geta clapped.Β
The sound of his clap echoed in the room, a ringing sound forming in the generalβs ears. He staggered back, his vision blurringβalmost black. The wine, he thought. He fell hard on the floor, his body numb. He saw the two emperors walk down the dais, towering over him like roman statues of the gods. They both laughed maniacally
βIn vit veritas, General.β In wine, there is truth.Β
Marcus Acacius woke up from the sound of a fallen metal bowl. It was night time, the torches in the room were lit. He wasnβt in the throne room anymore, yet the fineries in the architecture and the furniture in the room signaled that he was still in the palace.Β
βForgive me, general,β you said. Picking up the fallen bowl and the cloth bandages scattered on the floor. You had tended to the generalβs wounds. There werenβt many but it was imperative they be cleaned to reduce any infection. βHow are you feeling?β
You saw the general rise from his bed, his wide frame casting shadows on the bed. He wore nothing but the bandages you wrapped around his chest and the silk blanket that covered his privates. He groaned, his voice hoarse and deep. βFine I suppose, a bit sore.β
βThat is to be expected. Your injuries, though minor, will take a few days to heal.β you said. You couldnβt help but stare at him, even as you cleaned his wounds. His thick wavy hair that you brushed until the dried blood came off. His tanned skin and his broken nose. You admired every feature almost as if you were looking at a god on earth.Β
βThey laced my drink with something, what was it?β Marcus spoke. His hands brushed over his thick thighs, bending down while his hair fell on his face. βI feel feverish and weak.β
βA flower from one of Romeβs colonies, once dried it turns into a fine powder that can be mixed into wine. It is undetectable from smell or taste,β You said. Fear rose to your throat. In front of you was the most dangerous man in Rome. Despite his weakness you knew, surely, he can kill you with ease. βIn small doses it could be a sort of aphrodisiac the emperors have been using in theirβparties. Large amounts can be quite lethal.β
The general tried to stand but to no avail. You rushed quickly to his aid. It was true, you tried to cradle his muscular arms and they were hot to the touch. He groaned, grabbing onto your arm tightly. The silk shifted under his legs, your eyes widened to see the silk was bulging. βFuck,β he moaned.Β
βGeneral,β you said in shock.Β
βTell me, boy,β his eyes were sharp like knives and dark like an abyss. βIs this part of their games?β
βThis is a part of its effects, that is the truth,β you said, your face was close to his, his hand still gripping onto your arm. His breath was hot against your lips. But trust me, general, I had no part in this.β
βWhat will make it go away then?β he said, the silk pulled down the soft v of his pelvis, you could see the hint of hair in the middle.Β
βTime is the only cure. It will take until sunrise for the effects to subside,β you said. He cursed under his breath, sweat dripping down his temples. You pushed his hair back, your fingers cold against his skin. You rested your knee on the bed, your other hand caressing his broad shoulders. βBut if there is anything I can do to help, my general.β
His hands wrapped around your neck, tight. His eyes stared at you with his brows furrowed. He dragged you down to the bed. He was now on top of you, he was wide and strong, his breath labored. His hands pinned you down, his nails digging into your skin. He dove down to your neck kissing you. Nibbling and licking down your skin. You tasted of salt and flowers, oddly sweet.Β
βYou will serve me, boy,β he said. βUntil sunrise.β
You nodded. He ripped off your toga, tossing it aside, lost in the sea of silk. He continued to take his time on your body, kissing and sucking leaving marks all over. You moaned from his wet lips and his warm tongue, which trailed down your chest to your perked nipples. You could feel his rough facial hair scrape your skin, it stung but it sent more shivers through your body.Β
βThen let me serve you,β You said, slowly changing places so that he was sitting on the bed, and you straddling his muscular thighs. You placed a kiss on his lips, which tasted of dried blood. He pulled you closer, kissing you roughly while you fought to take in the air. His tongue mixed with yours changing each other's taste. When you pulled back to breathe you saw that his pupils were dilated.Β
You continued to trail kisses on his ear, slowly tracing the tip of your tongue down his neck and to his chest. You did the same with his nipples, licking and teasing which made him moan. It was godly, the way he sounded. Such brute strength in the battlefield long gone under your touch. Your hand went down to the growing ache in his center. His cock was aching hard and thick, the tip leaking. When you touched the bead of cum he shivered and cursed. You went down to place soft kisses around the shaft, taking in his soldierβs scent. You placed the pad of your tongue under the shaft and licked to taste the tip, engulfing the head as you went downβdeep.Β
βFuck,β he said, his chest rising and falling. You sucked down and hollowed your cheeks as you came up, releasing the head with a loud pop. He placed a hand on your head and pushed you back down. You bobbed on his cock feverishly as he moaned more and more. He was shaking a bit, his hands pulling on your hair as he fucked into your throat. Tears formed in your eyes as you took his thickness deeper into your throat. You could feel him getting close which is why he released his hold on you, you clutched your throat and coughed up. His thick cock was glistening wet with your spit, the tip a deep red.Β
βHave you ever been with a soldier?β he said, panting. You shook your head, wiping your tears and your lips on the silk. βThen come here, boy. Let me show you how a soldier of Rome takes his price.βΒ
You held onto his shoulders for balance. He guided his cock into your hole, slowly pulling on your waist until he was fully inside. You dipped your head on the corner of his neck, slowly moving your hips in a rocking motion. You moaned in his ears like a wanton mess. His arms hugged your waist and pushed you deeper down his cock. He pulled on your hair to continue on leaving marks on your neck and chest.Β
His hands wrapped around your neck as he kissed you more, his other hand found to stroke your hardness, your tip leaking a mess down his hand that made his strokes more slick. You were in ecstasy, like the drug had worked itself into your body as well. You went off his lap and sunk down on the bed with your face down on the silk, presenting your behind for him to use. He was like a lion eager for his prey. He took your hair and rammed his cock into you again. Fucking into you with so much force you could feel whatever expensive wood that was used on the bed creak. He panted like a man tired from a dayβs work. His other hand pressing down your back so your ass arched more.Β
βI am close,β he moaned.Β
βPlease, general, fill me,β you said. He pushed your face deeper down the bed, it felt as if he was crushing your skull. His thrusts became erratic and labored. The rhythm faltered from his sheer strength. He released with a strong grunt. His seed filled into your hole which made you feel full and warm. He collapsed on your back like a heavy bear. You tried to capture your breath. Slowly pushing him off.Β
You stood up to take back your toga, the sun peering from the horizon. You sat on the window with a watering can in your hands. You slowly poured water on the bright blue flower on your windowsill, a bag of gold coins next to it. You chuckled, the same chuckle Geta and Caracalla would do. βIn vito veritas,β you smiled. Admiring the big man snoring on your bed.
hey y'all I'm back! please like and reblog with your thoughts I'd love to hear them! And if you have any more sweet sweet prompts about Marcus or any of Pedro's characters do send them on my inbox!
Maddie being introduced as this literal ray of sunshine and then being the first to beat along to Piltovers turn to martial law. Her interactions with Vi mystifying her as βone of the good ones.β One of the good Zaunites. She was always discriminatory toward Zaunites, they just didnβt make it overt at her introduction. The turn to fascism and discrimination can start with anyone. Including a literal ray of sunshine.
Thereβs a saying: βThe nicest cop you know would still sweep a homeless encampment.β And the nicest enforcer you know would still gas you with The Grey and cheer on martial law
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