#and the soft lustrous skin and eyes

[screampied]

𝜗𝜚 B- BIRTHING HIPS ?!

☆ sum. no one expects the pretty sweet wife ( you ) to have such good birthing hips! not even him. gojo, toji, sukuna, nanami, choso, geto.

wc. 5.9k

warnings. fem! reader, unprotected, established relationships, ex-husband! toji, semi-public (nanami), bręeding, riding him ‘till he breaks, cowgirl + reverse, cęrvix kissing, reader with the STAMINAAA, (1x) usage of "mistress", squīrting, ass worship, spīt, shotgunning (toji), size kinks.

SATORU ★ GOJO.

“h- hah, ooh sweets,” satoru would swallow thickly, every sticky digit on his fingerprints tightly gripping into the bare soft flesh of your fidgeting ass.

you swerved in seductive circles, maintaining direct eye contact while he’s stuffed inch after fat inch inside of you.

as hurried, shallow pants leave his glossed lips, satoru gives your ass a playful little spank, encouraging your tempo to accelerate with quicker hits against his lap.

“when you said you.. had a birthday present for me i-” and his voice sheepishly lowers, feeling an incoming moan travel its way up his parched throat at you suddenly surprising his face with a barrage of open-mouthed kisses. “i didn’t think y’meant your ah- hips..”

“you complaining, ‘toru?” you’d cheekily hum, combing a few fingers through his perfect hair. your ears instinctively perked at the cute, small sound of satoru’s mewl just from you running a few digits down his overly tender scalp.

your cunt was just sooo unfair-

it swallowed each inch, feeling your gripping walls wring him tight like a vice every single time..

you even spot sparkly tears glossing on his glittery lashes from the immense, raw pleasure.

“n- no! no, ‘m never complaining, promise,” he’d speak in a rush, melting right as your lips sneak a wet kiss against his mouth. a string of saliva cowardly runs away from both pairs of shimmery lips before you feel him shiver underneath you.

you were perfect- and satoru was the one who thought he had the most stamina. in reality, though, it was you. the two of you ended up losing track of time—and it’s probably been hours upon hours of you riding your husband into straight blissful oblivion.

you’re so up close that you had a clear view of him, drinking up his pretty, vocal moans as you attack his lips once again with a three-second kiss. “a- ah, i just—” he stammers, pawing sweaty palms at your ass.

you were just so ruthless- your rear, your hips, your fuckin’ knees… you just knew no bounds..

you rolled your waist in a way where it gave him a plethora of shivers. you moan, feeling the prints of his sticky fingertips dig into your skin as his tip thrashes its way around your cunt. “i.. i forgot- forgot- what i was gonna,” he’d whine, whitish brows curling into an arch. “my god-” he hiccups.

just as your hips dip inward, proudly taking in every fat inch inside of you deeply, he knew that this was it.

satoru was seeing white—not only seeing white, but he was shooting it too.

creamy gooey wads that drizzled inside of your cunt, filling you to the very brim with his lustrous knot. his cum pours inside of you oh-so sloppily and you gasp as your jittery legs forcibly cling onto his thighs like paste.

sharp pounds of skin were rough - barbarically slamming against each other at full speed even while he was still cumming.

with the sole help of your hips, you’d turn the strongest into the whiniest..

he’s whining once he continues to spray such thin ribbons inside of you, filling your cunt to capacity with seed as his right thigh grows limp.

satoru’s flushed- and his jaw was cutely dropped with his eyes bulging wide out of their sockets. it was as if your ass moved in slow motion—you were still riding him but the temp was much, much slower..

his long limbs slowly spread themselves apart as you straddled over him, staring intently into his eyes with an impish smile. satoru’s panting just as much as you. you peer at how his snowy-white hair’s all ruffled - nearly matted as he awkwardly runs a hand through.

“aw,” you’d press another kiss against his twitching mouth, feeling his naturally glossed lips tremor beneath yours. it was so, so much- and your cunt stored every velvety drop. satoru felt your ass greedily rounding itself back onto his leaking cock as you planted your palms on his chest.

his heart-

it’s racing, and he could barely even look you in the eye. satoru was embarrassed, but he didn’t want you to stop. not now - not ever.

you knew that for a fact because a small pout started to crease against his thin pink lips once, he felt your hips coming to a devastatingly slow. “why’s the pout, birthday boy? still not satisfied?”

“h.. how can i not be with those unfair hips,” satoru moans, taking pauses for each gulping breath as if was going to be his last.

strong, brawny arms wrap around your waist before he pulls you close, feeling a bubbly white ring coat its way around his thick base. satoru grunts at your hips coming to their final concluding stop, and he smacks a hand against your ass.

he looks down between the white mess that paints between thighs, moaning at the sight of your stuffed cunt before sighing deeply. “mhm- so perfect. h- happy fuckin’ birthday to me.”

as you writhe around his cock that’s still languidly emitting out such thick ropes from the gummed inside, you pepper his face with kisses. satoru moans at your touch as his hands reel your hips back into him.

“y’know, for the strongest, you really gotta work on your stamina,” you tease, watching that same pout gloss against his lips. satoru’s groaned silently as he pumped you full of chalky amounts that forevermore continued to ooze down the sides of your legs. you hovered over him, brushing a soft thumb over his cheek before leaning in to whisper against the shell of his ear. “how ‘bout we do every round for every year you turned, including today?”

“heh- sweets,” satoru tilts his head, doing the quick math in his head for about a millisecond before he pulls you into his beefy chest. a scarred hand guides a warm path down your arched back as he inhales your scent—huskily grunting into your neck before chuckling. “then we’d be goin’ for like.. thirty-four rounds.”

“exactly,” you coo, and satoru ogles as you remove his blindfold that lazily hung just above his eyes. bawling it into your first - you put it into his mouth and he lets off a muffled groan. satoru falls back against the satin-covered pillows of the bed with the flesh of your bare ass still in his hand before he blinks thrice.

oh.. you looked so pretty..

towering over him like this when it’s usually the other way around.

satoru leans into your touch once you tenderly cup his face, winding up your bucking hips by introducing that beloved teeth-shattering thrust that never failed to drive him crazy.

“ngh- lie back,” and satoru starts to moan continuously with his blindfold clogging his throat before you start to ferociously slam your hips onto his lap. “let’s s.. start from the beginning though, round one, birthday boy.”

TOJI ★ FUSHIGURO.

bleary-eyed and hazed, toji groans, staring at how perfectly your ass effortlessly tossed itself back against him..

in the background of the dimly lit room with a few exceptions of lit candles, some old western movie played in the ambience. he couldn’t keep his attention on the vintage film anyway, not when you were riding him so so good.

“fuckin’ shit, babygirl,” he’d lean back, hooking a beefy arm around your waist. as you lean in close, your soft right cheek tickles against his prickly growing stubble. a stubby rolled blunt sticks out between his teeth as grassy eyes his continued to droop from his erotic high.

your hips were insane - and every gruesome swerve of your ass gives him whiplash. “remember when you…hah- used ‘ta ride me like this on our honeymoon? heh, don’t tell me y’er still in love.”

“mmng- shut up, toji,” you’d moan, clawing a hand at his dingy white tank. toji feels your eyes lingering on him and you can visibly see that haughty smirk wickedly trying to carve its way against his crooked lips.

oh, how you loathed him.

you told yourself it was supposed to be the last time, but the last time always turns into one more, then two more, then three..

but that of course never happened.

the abnormally thick tension between you both forever grew. as you leaned against his hairy chest that was protected with the thin fabric of his tank top, you took the blunt from his lips before faintly inhaling the pungent smell.

“just shut up,” you’d whisper against the shell of his ear. toji grunts once the ruddy crown of his cock sloppily rams its way deeper further. your hands meet his chest and toji drops back, staring at you with a raised brow as you pin his beefy arms over his head. your hips continued to be robust, creating such vigorous thrusts that it made him clench his teeth in longing desire. “n’ let me ride you.”

“y…yes, ma’am,” toji breathes, his voice shifting more raspy from each direct hit of your deliciously springy hips. your cunt was just so precise, and his swollen tip repeatedly mashed its way thoroughly into your pulsating g-spot. it uses that pretty spot—imagining it’s a target and he hits it perfectly, bullseye every time.

the lightning-shaped veins ran through his bare arms as you held them over his head, dragging your bouncy ass back ‘n forth until he groans.

it was just something about your body that hypnotized him. your hips practically rolled into toji, moaning against his lips until hot smoke poured between the pried open cracks of his lips.

it lands against your tongue—and it’s flavorless, but you playfully lick the corner of his lip, feeling him shiver underneath you. “goddd- those fuckin’ hips. work ‘em, girl, fuuuck . . me.”

the way your pussy was just so sloppy too. the mere definition of wet. your slick clings against toji’s hefty sack like there was no tomorrow.

you had a watery grip that always made toji loll his eyes in lewd elation. the bed was almost louder than the combined moans of you both, and it even seemed like its constant groans and yelps were trying to compete.

“not so cocky now when you’re close, hm?” you’d airily whisper, feeling toji’s arm trying to flop itself back down. you grab his wrist, hearing the cute stubborn smack of his lips at your abrupt hold. “ahhh- touch, but no looking, baby.”

“bratty girl,” toji cocks his head, the lump in his throat nearly having him gasp for air. your hips were simply not fair - and pretty soon, he was coming close. your cunt’s wetly swallowing the entirety of his stout cock, twirling around his lap before viciously slamming down on his cock repeatedly.

your sweet, harmonic-like moans were pitchy and loud, but between your legs—you were far far louder. you swerved in erratic arcs, and each squelch that left from your pussy sounded wetter every time. you watched how toji’s defined abs bleed through his tank. “fine then. make me fuckin’ cum - c’mooon,” and he sharply brings a hand toward your ass. “make y’er lovin’ doting husband proud, yea?”

“and you call me the brat,” you’d grumble, leaning back in to swap the rest of the puffed smoke that lingered in his mouth. toji snickers, feeling your ass than its way in each ‘n every direction. your rhythm was just… perfect!

you’re moving in circles, you’re moving forward, hell, you even toss your ass backward just to watch his leafy eyes roll to the backs of their sockets. your cunt’s just profusely dripping wet, and he could feel you soaking from the inside at each sloppy bounce of your berserk hips.

toji’s trying to keep up his cocky façade, but with your unpredictable movements—he was screwed. “heh- atta girl, that’s my girl. ‘m all yours ‘n y’know know it,” he grunts, bruising your cervix repeatedly with smooch after smooch with the help of his plump tip. toji’s got your hips firmly by the palms, bouncing you harder on his hardened cock to make you babble out his name like it was its own sort of chant.

‘toji toji toji!’ was all you could whine out with your head empty and dumbed down from putting your hips to work.

“mhm- even if divorced, this pretty pussy always knows who it belongs t— fuck!”

mid-sentence, toji ends up cumming at that beautiful sharp smack of your ass that makes him nearly choke on a hoarse grunt. his grip against the fat of your ass loosens and his cock’s growing weak and soft, trying to retreat itself out of your pussy. it’s thin, slimy ropes that end up tangling with your treacly juices create a lewd cobweb that glues against both fleshy mounds. “mhm, soo fuckin’ good, toji,” you’d moan, slowing the rocking of your unsteady hips as he finally succumbs to his high.

the movie still quietly plays in the background, and you lean in—snatching the blunt out of his lips before kissing him. the taste of earthy, spiced smoke lands on your tongue once he returns the sloppy gesture, groaning into your mouth as he’s dumping load after hot load into you. “mmph-,” toji shivers, feeling your arms run down his beefy biceps, feeling all over his ripped body.

you couldn’t lie- you kind of missed him. kind of..

your hips still buckled and the friction makes him hiss against your teeth. “goddamn, i can’t.. feel my legs, baby girl,” he grumbles, tilting his head back slightly once your hips dip forward. “can’t stop . . cummin’ fuck-”

“seems like we gotta work on that stamina, old man,” you’d sneer, wriggling your ass once the last final spurts of cum fill inside of you. toji’s eyes then suddenly narrow at you, and you grin before he sits up. “what?”

“old man?” he repeats.

“yeah, old m-”

and it’s almost comical how you were literally straddling his lap—and now, you’re laid flat on your back with your knees rudely shoved up to the top of your chest. there’s a carnal look in toji’s eyes, and you gulp once you glance down at his feverishly hot cockhead that’s weeping with pearly droplets of dried cum.

“yeah, okay,” he grouses, earning a sweet moan from you once his tip harshly smacks against your tender opening.

toji spits on his palm before spanking your pussy, feeling you writhe in anticipation before he pulls your legs further back. his body hovers over you before he sticks his slick-covered fingers in his mouth for just a second to get a taste—aligning his fat tip before snickering at how eager you were to open up for him again already.

“let’s see just how quickly this ‘old man’ can break his pretty wife’s pussy then, hmm? just like old times, baby.”

NANAMI ★ KENTO.

if it was anything nanami kento despised more than constantly working day ‘n night at the office on constant repeat, drowning in piles of paperwork and getting his ear talked off by calls was leaving his pretty horny wife unsatisfied.

“sweetheart-” nanami timidly groans, slouching back against his rickety office chair. you were just nasty with your hips, slapping your ass against his cock that’s repeatedly reaching deep deep deep angles with little to zero effort.

it makes nanami pull on his checkered tie that’s a tad bit loose, tapping his heel against the wooden-cold floor. “ ‘m still…on the job,” and his voice pitches huskier from each languid stroke. your gaping cunt was hungrily sucking him in, flawlessly bruising your cervix with a multitude of french kisses. “but actually, this is . . better than staring at a computer screen all day.”

“yeaah?” you whisper, sneaking your spit-glossed lips near his chin. your body was straight-up sensual. nanami couldn’t keep up with the constant bouncy reel of your hips and the way you grind so lovingly against him.

the buckles of nanami’s belt clang as you rut against his lap, rubbing against the slim fabric of his pulled-down slacks.

as the office chair turned and swiveled, so did your hips. every few seconds, nanami would peek through blurred peripherals and hope no one would walk by his secluded cubicle.

“so paranoid, baby. hey, look at me, hey-” and as your hands crawl their way toward nanami’s chiseled cheeks, fawn eyes lock against yours within an instant. he’s sweating bullets, and you moan at the feeling of his cold watch band ghosting down your skin. “mhm, good. eyes up here, all on me. eyes on your poor wife who hasn’t been touched alllll day.”

“hah- more like.. you touch yourself by video calling me while showin’ off the toys i buy you,” nanami sighs, preventing himself from eye-rolling at the cunning grin that’s trying to compress against your lips. he was right though, whenever nanami was at work and you were at home—you’d call him, sometimes video call.

sliding your hands down your body… touching yourself while wearing his work clothes… purposely making a bit of a mess on his side of the bed too.

“can’t help it when my husband looks like you,” you whisper, leaning further forward so that your tummy’s pressed up against his tailored button-up. his cologne was always loud, he was wearing one of your favorites too.

it always smelled like a mixture of dirty cinnamon and rich, seductive chocolate. nanami quietly grunts, low eyes peering at his bright computer screen that had dozens of tabs open.

so overworked..

but he couldn’t lie—your hips always knew how to relieve his stress, make him forget all about his important tasks and documents he had to go over. your cunt’s just so greedy though.

every pump of his cock hastily drives through you at high speed, hips steadily forming such rough collisions with each crashing thrust. with the way you were riding him, he started to have thoughts of getting you pregnant. “f- fuuck.” he’d groan, sexily tilting his head to the left once your lips made their way onto his skin. you’re soft- creating a trail of invisible kisses as you rode him so good that he didn’t even notice his phone was suddenly ringing.

brrrriiiiiiinnng!

it’s the office phone—and it’s the same, high-pitched ringtone like always that was merely akin to nails on a chalkboard. “mmh- important phone call, ‘ken. must be important,” you’d teasingly moan, bringing your rocky hips to a brief pause. nanami groans in annoyance at the interruption, stretching his split knuckles one by one. with a lively hum, you playfully pout. “ ‘s okay, i can always…wait-”

“no- no,” nanami grumbles, soft brown eyes nearly rolling back due to the thick gaping stretch of his cock mending your insides with such ease. he pulls you into him, giving your ass a needy squeeze. lowly whispering into your ear, nanami sighs before answering the phone. “be a . . good girl ‘n keep those hips movin’ sweetheart. i’ll be quick.”

“yes, sir.” you’d play along, feeling his dick twitch between your saturated folds—and oh, you knew that made him hard. secretly, you knew nanami always did have a sir kink.

your ass slammed into nanami’s lap violently, and he’s feeling himself grow weaker and weaker the more your weight presses on top of him. “nanami, speaking,” he’d gruffly answer, trying to conceal his pantingly deep breaths.

you couldn’t really hear much except gibberish, but you started to get louder the more his mushroomy tip vertically drags its way down your sopping cunt. ‘mmph!’ after ‘mmph!’ would come out of you—and you were so vocal that he had to put a palm over your mouth.

nanami deadpans, clearly knowing what you were up to. “uh.. uh huh, i see,” he continues, groaning once his cock slides its way near your clit, tapping near your slick entrance before sloppily ‘popping!’ itself back out.

you bring a hand toward his veiny cock, slipping it back in before you then realize—you’re drooling all over his palm. “nasty.. girl,” he whispers under his breath, forgetting that he had someone on the other line.

the colleague on the other line said something along the lines of ‘what the…’ and nanami quickly backtracked. “ahem- i mean, yes. that sounds good. i should be free… monday.”

with the conversation coming to a close after a few overly prolonged seconds, nanami ends up cumming mid-conversation. the phone ends up dropping against his desk, and nanami groans, wrapping his arms around you while spewing out hot masses of cum.

“fuck- fuck sweetheart, oh, m- my,” he’d stammer, blond brows twisting together at the feelings of elation. it’s fiery hot - seeping deeply into your core so much that it even dribbles down your thigh. your cunt’s all puffy — prettily glistening with remnants of bubbly cum tearing from your folds before you kiss him. nanami moans against your wet, quivering lips as clashing teeth battle with each other.

as your grinding hips earn out a soft moan from him, he swallows your whines, tucking you underneath a sleeved arm before spanking your ass. “god, m- might have to propose to you again. ‘m still cummin’.”

and as you’re still straddling him with both sweaty bodies smushed against each other, your ear twitches at the quiet mumbling sounds of the phone that were never hung up.

“mr. nanami, what… on earth… did i just listen to.”

SUKUNA ★ RYŌMEN.

sukuna gravelly groans, huffing out low ‘fuck’ ‘s and ‘ugh’ ‘s after each spongy bounce of your ass.

the wholly cruel stretch of his cock buries itself deep within you making him click his tongue. sukuna was always a perfect fit — sometimes it took a bit of stretching, but he always knew he was around and inside. his cock knew each and every route, studying every slippery orifice and corner of your gummy, squeezing walls.

sinister, red eyes trail down your bouncing frame before he snickers at the cute taunting thrusts of your hips. “some . . nerve, woman,” he huffs, his lungs failing to keep up with your barbaric stamina. a sleazy grin tries to tug against both corners of his lips as he firmly grips your ass, spanking you again to encourage you to go faster. “ngh, ridin’ me while wearin’ my kimono? must hah- have some kinda death wish.”

the fabric wears your entire body loosely, and sukuna can’t help but gawk as you jerk your hips at such a sloppy tempo.

your pussy’s overwhelmed with all the fat inches of sukuna’s cock that mercilessly bullies its way into you. like always - he knew the exact layout of your pussy, and you moan once he presses a hand on your tummy.

“actuallyyy, they look better on me,” you quietly mumble, licking a stripe up his neck. sukuna inhales a sharp breath, scarlet eyes knocking further to the very back of his tilted skull. he was always a fool for your touch. “don’t you agree?”

“such a smart mouth,” sukuna grabs your entire chin, steadying your hips with another. out of the many enemies he’s faced—your hips were the far brutalist he’s ever been up against.

you didn’t know when to quit.

you moan at the soft pricks of his honed claws nipping at your skin, hearing the loud, pitchy sounds of both sharp rutting hips clashing in sync.

sukuna can’t help but stare—stare at you, at your body, and especially at the way you continuously threw your ass in circles, circles galore.

“think my wife’s gettin’ a ‘lil too spoiled,” he growly murmurs, tracing the claw of his thumb over your lip. your cunt’s never felt so full - his tip was just as mean as he was. it drags its way through a lewd pattern, caressing through every part of your gummy walls before seeing your eyes bulge to the size of saucers. “aw, look at that face. ‘s too big for you again, like always, hm?”

“s- shut up, ‘kuna.” you moan, pushing him back against the wobbly throne that sounded like it was about to snap into two within seconds. with a stubborn ‘hmmph!’ he lands on his back, eyeing you with a quirked pink brow.

with your knees bent to a certain degree, you started to guide your hipsby rocking it back against his lap. you knew how to swerve and grind. making the curse groan continuously from each slap of your hips, he spanks your ass while scoffing angrily under his breath.

sukuna didn’t have a weakness - besides you.

you had a type of arch that was killer.

all sukuna did was lie back while he watched you work. your ass bounced and bounced as skin against skin relentlessly ricochets onto each other. he didn’t even realize how his jaw was tightening. your grip was enticing—your cunt was slick as ever, drowning the entire shaft of his thick cock with your dripping sap. “g- goddamn, woman,” sukuna groans, his voice softening a bit.

who knew something as such as hips was enough to put the sukuna ryomen in check?

the penetration ended up turning sloppy within each ‘n every round that progressed, and sukuna’s tip was practically making love with your sensitive g-spot.

the stimulation had you moaning into his neck before you gasped, feeling him grab your hips. sukuna glances at you, feeling your sturdy hips nearly slowing down before he tauntingly tsks his tongue at you. “hah- don’t slow down now. you wanted ‘ta fuck me, so fuck me with those pathetic- hah, hips, girl.”

he’s just so big - you couldn’t help but whine out repeated inaudible whimpers. his custom made kimono loosely flows over your body as you continue to move with the constant creaks of his throne groaning from each bounce of weight. “f- fuck, ‘kuna,” a gargled moan bubbles out of your throat as you press a sloppy kiss against his lips.

sukuna’s jaw easily goes slack, and the rough slams of your ass left him spacing out in no time. your cunt’s so powerful that he gets transformed into another dimension for a split second. milliseconds pass and the demon sees nothing but pure white, and that’s when he cums.

sukuna lets out a gruff battle-crying groan once he releases—pouring such a gluey batch of cum into your cunt. it’s hot - messily oozing its way into you, a few spurts dribbling down his fat base that’s a blushing pink. a gravelly grunt leaves from sukuna as he grips your ass, making your hips circle their way slower against his pelvis.

“ugh- the audacity of this w- worthless pussy,” he stutters, shakily chewing on every word from the elated pleasure that comes from his finish. sukuna’s crimson eyes roll, and he bares his fangs deep into your neck as his creamy knot deepens inside of you. “fuck.”

“oh, don’t tell me you’re gettin’ tired already, m’lord,” you’d tease, saying that title, knowing how he’d always get hard whenever you addressed him in formal manners. sukuna’s faintly trembling underneath you, and he hisses at the sticky sight of his own cum that starts to paste against the undersides of your nearly numb thighs. eagerly, you buck your hips into him again, watching his eyes carnally widen. “one more round, ‘kuna—yeah?”

with a quirked pink brow and lowly hooded eyes, he’s panting heavily. sukuna’s cock twitched inside of you, practically creating a bulge just from how ridiculously thick he was before he sighs.

“y- yeah, one more.”

“one more what?”

sukuna shoots you a glare but it soon falters once your ruthless rocking starts up again.

you’re rough, burying your knees into his thighs as your ass smacks against his cock - making him groan out a needy whine.

“fuck- one more round.. mistress.”

CHOSO ★ KAMO.

every time you rode choso, he can’t help but fall in love with you - again.

it was just something about your hips. something about the way you moved, the way you stared deeply into his eyes, whispering sweet nothings into his ear. your voice alone was enough to make him finish, pumping you full of viscid wads that swam their way right into your warm, welcoming womb.

“s- so fuckin’ hot,” he’d whine out, studying each hop of your hips with bleary half-open eyes. if you squinted just enough, you’d spot how his pupils were gradually turning heart-shaped. you sensuously rolled your hips in a way where choso was at a loss for words.

“mmh- baby,” he’d groan, feeling your thighs lift before slamming straight back down. your cunt sloppily clamped down on his cock tightly, wringing choso dry and milking him for all that he was worth. “don’t- don’t stop, please- don’t stop, fuuuuck.”

flimsily, you threw your arms around over his shoulders that were so tense-slacked.

as you’re right next to his face, choso’s frantically panting—puffs of air leaving from his parted lips with greasy black strands sticking to his forehead. choso’s just glossed with sweat, and his hands start to slowly creep their way to the bottoms of your plush thighs. “touch me more, ‘cho,” you’d moan, grinding yourself against him in circular motions.

choso’s cock was hard - so so hard. you felt it, and it’s as if time stood still when it happened.

the blushing crown of his shaft securely squeezes its way through your pinching walls, introducing itself to your convulsing g-spot.

“chosooo, chos—oh!” you’d shriek, your thighs immediately collapsing against his. the stimulation of his crowned head smearing around the spongy texture makes you short-circuit for a moment.

you probably looked cartoonish. nothing but white painted the insides of your rolled eyes with your jaw goofily dangling open, furrowing brows curling up in such bawdy pleasure..

“a.. are you okay? does it hurt?” choso stammers, awkwardly cupping your face with big, roughly textured palms. your cheek falls into his hand as you smile, bringing a kiss toward the tip of his nose while leaning into his gentle touch.

“baby, ‘m fine,” you reassure him, watching choso’s shoulders sag. choso’s hands snag at your ass as his head falls back. the adam’s apple that bobs in his throat never stops bobbing, and he throatily groans once he starts to feel your wobbly hips pick up again.

“o..ooh! keep hittin’ there- yeah, right there,” and choso sucks his teeth as he not only hears but feels your pussy slickly slide on his cock. ravened eyes of his eventually flicker down at your neglected, bouncing chest and choso cutely sighs.

humming, you hold his chin while rubbing the pad of your thumb over his sheeny pouted lips. “go ahead, choso. feel ‘em.”

he’s touched you probably dozens of times. the two of you were married, and yet he was always hesitant, waiting for your approval. right when you gave it though, choso couldn’t contain himself anymore.

you gasped once choso quickly sank his face in between your chest, cupping his mouth around one of your bare nipples. “mmp-” he’d let off a muffled moan against your skin, the muscles in his face relaxing as he felt you patting his head.

you were still riding him, strenuously smacking your hips on top of him - each squelch from your cunt never failing to pitch higher and higher.

the arch of your back stretches further, and you feel his hand swat against your ass. choso’s tongue sloppily swirls around your tender nub before it turns into wet suckles. “f- fuck, jus’ like that, choso,” you’d whine, hearing each loud ‘pop!’ sound away from his lips once your tit occasionally slides out his mouth.

choso’s weakly rutting into you too, but one of his arms wraps around your hips - pulling you closer. you’re rocking back and forth, hearing him moan against your skin before he starts nipping. “ ‘m gonna c.. cum,” his eyes widen, digging slender fingertips into the right cheek of your ass.

and his voice shook at each pounce of your hips. you’re riding him until he breaks - literally.

the split of choso’s tip rummages its way through your tight, clenching walls, steadily jackhammering its head toward the hood of your clit. your thighs nearly snap together shut at the long-awaited pressure, and you wrap your arms around his slim torso.

“fuck, oh f- fuck ‘m gonna cum too, choso,” you’d whimper in his ear, feeling his body underneath you cutely shudder. your hips were just delicious.

he’s nearly forgetting to breathe with how damn good you rode him - with how you rotated your ass, rocking your waist, barreling all of his inches. choso’s heart thumped straight out of his chest, and one glance of you was all it took for him to realize he was falling in love with you again.

“ugh- fuck me, baby—use me, oh f- fuck,” he’d start rambling, the sweaty prints of his thumbs swirling circles around the occasional dents in your back. he found it so attractive how each time you moved or rocked against him, your muscles would cutely tense at the excessively wide stretch of his cock. “need you. i…hah- need…you,” he’d murmur between pauses of sharp breaths, and choso’s entire body slumps back within seconds.

one final thrust and he’s cumming - hard.

you end up finishing too — gushing straight out, poor trembly thighs collapsing right over his meaty thighs that were the mere definition of ‘numb’.

you’re whimpering as he’s filling you up with satiny ropes that tangle with your syrupy slick that soaks the head of his cock. “fuck, ‘cho, that’s it. r- relax,” you’d swerve your hips around, watching choso’s abs clench underneath you. you’re riding him so good that he thought he was gonna get pregnant.

you’re drenched - bringing two fingers toward your cunt, coolly spreading your pretty entrance apart. your clit’s pulsing, and you’re moaning once you see small masses of cum spilling down your clit. “you’re always so messy.”

“hah- for… you,” choso sighs, a sleazy grin forming across his lips. his hand still remains glued to your ass and he grunts, sneaking a hand between the crack of your thighs. “mmh- i think.. i want you to do that again, baby.”

“what?” you bring a chaste kiss toward his lips, swallowing the incoming whine that leaves from choso’s lips. he’s never tasted sweeter - and you could feel his body quiver at the feeling of your hands sliding down his chest.

choso moans against your lips, pressing his forehead against yours. “s.. squirt,” he purrs hoarsely, and you gasp once he lifts you, making you lie back this time. darkened eyes fall toward between your sprawled-out legs and he nearly drools — taking in the pure sight of his cum wetly streaming down your pearled nub. choso whines against your cunt, taking one long lap of his tongue, relishing at the messy taste of both mixtures of arousal - yours and his.

with a pout, choso starts to clean you up, smearing the bridge of his nose against your twitching cunt before meeting your gaze. “squirt again, pretty girl. i.. i wanna taste it this time,” and he gives your swollen heat a wet kiss.

“pretty please?”

SUGURU ★ GETO.

geto could practically feel his mouth watering once he saw that sweet, perfect arch of yours.

he’s used to seeing you in front, up close ‘n personal but no.. you wanted to try riding him in reverse. not only that, but you decided to ride him in reverse while he was still very much sensitive.

“ooh, p- princess,” he’d grunt hoarsely, tasting the treacly sweet stream of saliva pooling into his mouth. the buds that live on his tongue ached at the hot, comforting squeeze of your cunt. geto’s still getting over his recent orgasm—globs of cum still sticking against his cock and glossing wetly between your quivering legs. “ugh- you’re killin’ me here with that pretty fuckin’ arch of yours, y’know that?”

“mhm, good,” you’d reply in a hurried tone, feeling his lust-like gaze lock against your ass. you weren’t even going fast and yet, your hips already had him on a leash.

geto couldn’t stop staring - nor could he keep his strong, callused hands to himself.

you moaned, planting your hands against the crumpled-up sheets before gasping. geto makes you arch more, getting a pretty fogged-eyed view of the way your backside curves over his lap right before his eyes. “hah- suguru, don’t stop touchin’ me.”

“didn’t . . plan on it, pretty,” he rasps, trailing his eyes down at the rocking curvature of your waist. you’re fuckin’ moving, and with your hands gripping onto his knees—you threw your ass back against him time and time again. geto groans, feeling his reddened tip that was still leaking swab its way around your clit like a q-tip. your ass had a grip that made him nearly choke on the treacly saliva that sticks near the back of his tongue. “god- so perfect, look at you, girl. so hah- damn gorgeous when you’re on top, fuck.”

“mhm,” you’d bite back a moan, the sensual rolling of your hips turning more intimate by the second. his dick coarsely stretches through your slavering insides, sloppily pumping you full with each ‘pop!’ squelching out from between your thighs. geto keeps his gaze locked on your ass the entire time, and that’s when you start to bend your knees.

you arch lower, zealously wriggling your ass before bouncing on his cock and that’s when you hear him starting to whine. “fuck- so big,” you’d gasp, taking control of the tempo by steadily veering your hips like a boat. “hold my hips, sugu. hold ‘em while i fuck you.”

geto lets off a guttural groan, swatting a clammy palm against your backside before both hands attach near your rotating waist that’s raining with sweat from all angles. you’re merely glowing and it’s just so pretty.

“tch- you’re gettin’ cocky, princess,” he’d mumble, his voice turning shakier as your ass frantically ruts into him at full force. his sweltering hot tip’s on the verge of splitting you open and you moan each time you feel its overly vast curve delve straight inside your pussy, nastily dragging its way down your sopping valley. tossing his head back, geto’s abs instinctively clench through his shirt before he whines again. “ ‘m only lettin’ you take charge ‘cause i—”

and geto pauses abruptly, violently clenching his teeth at the slick pasty feeling of your pussy trapping the entirety of his thick length. breath snatches out of his chest before he groans loudly, spanking your ass with the corners of his lips twitching into a pout.

“o- oh fuck, ‘m gonna fuckin’ cum again,” and the words whine out from his lips oh-so prettily, grunting each time you slam your ass back down against his cock. his bulbous tip deepens its angle inside of you, rolling his eyes from the sudden pressure arising.

he’s never felt hotter — and geto nearly blacks out completely once you start to purposely slow down, sneaking a hand back to smack your ass right in front of his face while craning your neck. “yeah, give it t’me then, baby. don’t miss a fuckin’ drop.”

“such a s.. slut,” geto groans, nearly getting hypnotized by how good you’re dragging your hips in figure eights. they gradually shift into circles—and he’s buried deep deep deep, pounding into your cunt rawly until he ends up shooting blanks again. you end up finishing too, and it feels like a deep sigh you are finally letting go. shockwaves and electricity pierce through every nerve and vein through your body, and your mouth drops open—feeling your teeth chatter once your hips back their way up against him in reverse.

geto’s body underneath you immediately shudders and oh- he’s whimpering, feeling the weight of your rickety hips steady.

as his mouth grows dryly arid, geto lets off a weary ‘phew’ as the core muscles in his abs tighten.

viciously thin ropes of cum shoot into you. globs of it seep deep inside of you, watching as your cunt sloppily spits remnants of it on its tip—coating the shriveled-up base of his cock that’s been perfectly milked. “b.. baby,” he hoarsely groans, hands still stuck to each side of your hips.

it was such a pretty sight — your cunt remained stuffed full with buttery ribbons of cum that ran down your thighs before he spanks your ass.

“jus’ . . gimme a minute. think your pussy really hah- broke me,” and geto gives the right of your ass cheek its final needy squeeze before sighing in defeat. “f- fuuuuck, girl.”

[anantaru]

dragon neuvillette horn touching…

cw. monsterfucking (dragon), he has scales, horn touching (sensitive horns), size kink/size difference, fem! reader

neuvillette was always exceptionally gentle with your body and how he touched you— more so until you're reduced to utter mindlessness, with tears caking your lashes as he lifts and pulls your hips together.

the undertones of carnal desire a mystical being like the iudex had was visibly showing, with remnants of rough scales decorating the area around his chest and abs— all for your eyes to feast on as he yanks your body against his hips before pushing his weight flat onto your chest, your legs spreading widely apart.

a shriek arises in your throat when he dips his hips back into you, an unholy, flourishing need for pleasure holding you hostage as neuvillette pursued it without mercy— your heart turning into a lump in your throat as the chilling vibrations of each thrust settles on your skin.

aside from that, the strange presence of, well, someone who clearly wasn't human made you wince and twist under his much larger weight. it's making it a whole lot more intimate because you know neuvillette trusted you and had no issue in showing you all of him— like his dazzling, turquoise scales, or his lustrous horns glowing through the shadow of the room and overturning the desire in his eyes.

your body shakes from the penetration of his cock pushing past the muscular ring of your hole when at the same time, you're unable to move from the immediate sensation of being overstimulated as the harshness of his blows thunders on you and parts like waves from your wet sex.

immediately, your hands weave into his hair to hold his body close as you're being surrounded by his muscular chest rubbing across your nipples with his soaked erection mercilessly drilling to the hilt of you, splitting you so deliciously, as well as claiming and striking bursts of electricities along your nerve endings.

you focus on neuvillette's face, particularly when you accidentally brush your fingers around the base of his horns, making him wince out due to the sudden trace catching him off guard— his jaw clenched, eyebrows furrowed when you do it again.

he likes it, you're certain of that, and the veins on his shaft swell as he fucks your sloppy cunt when you continue to touch his horns and rub your pads into them— becoming entranced by his veins moulding their trace into your walls.

neuvillette squeezes his eyes shut and exhales through his mouth at the feeling you put him through when his hands grip at your hips as he fucks you as quick and sloppy as he can, his domineering aura causing a brutality on your core when loud moans leave your lips on each thrust.

It seems like neuvillette was everywhere, unimaginably hard and hot buried in your cunt while touching all of the soft, secret places and making you twist and writhe in ecstasy— it's wet and messy as well, the noisy squelches coming from your sore hole are absolutely driving him into madness as neuvillette groans into your lips when you tug on his horns, his cock aching and his balls throbbing.

but he won't stop, neither does he want you to stop touching him like that either.

©2023 anantaru do not repost, copy, translate, modify

[lokischocolatefountain]

at last, my love has come along

Fandom: Gladiator II Pairing: General Acacius x Wife!Reader Rating: PG13 Word count: 2.9k words Summary: After the end of a loveless marriage, your father finds a match for you in General Acacius. Warnings: age gap, arranged marriage, mentions of maternal and infant mortality, widowed reader, widowed Acacius, past neglect, virgin!reader. A/N: Marcus Acacius has me in a chokehold and he knows I like it. This is a second look at the characters from home in three days, do not wash but happens earlier. You can read them in whatever order you wish. Title stolen from Etta James' At Last.

“What is he like? The Dominus?” 

“He is very kind,” said one of the girls who worked on your toga. You nodded, the pearls in your earrings brushing against your skin and making the hairs on your body stand upright. 

“What of my hair?” 

“What of it, Domina?” 

“The sun has already set. You said the Dominus will be home soon,” you said, fidgeting with the silk fabric that your sisters had presented you with before you began your travel from your village to the city. Something that would help you fit in better with the fashionable ladies and not make your husband, the General, look bad in society’s eyes. 

It was not for lack of wealth that you did not own many luxurious fabrics. Only that such things did not reach your village easily and your father, despite his place in the Senate, never brought the right things home. Not for a lack of love for you and your siblings but a lack of taste in women’s clothing and jewelry. 

You thought as a young girl of only fourteen that your husband, the first one, would bring you the soft silks and lustrous gold unlike your father. But he did not even bring himself home. You had been married off through letters exchanged between him and your father. It took two of living in his mansion and raising his two children from his last marriage before he finally came home. And when he did, he did not act as a husband should. Not how your older sisters told you he ought to be. 

When Consus passed, you mourned not as a wife but as a friend. 

“The dominus prefers unbraided hair,” the girl standing behind you said. You nodded, registering the information in your heart. You wanted to know all that there was to know about him before he even arrived. Perhaps then you would be pleasing enough to have a fate different from your last marriage. 

It had been all but a year since you were widowed that your father brought you news that you would be wed to a General who lived in the capital. There was no wedding for you even this once. A repeat of your last fate. You had resigned to never knowing your husband when you reached his grand home and spent your night with servants rather than his bed. 

How foolish you were to hope. 

But the situation changed for the better quite suddenly when you received word that General Acacius was returning from his travel soon. You expected that the news would calm your nerves but it somehow achieved the opposite. Fear. 

When the girls were happy with how they had decorated you for your husband’s eyes, they led you to his chambers. They left you there alone to stew in your anxieties about how the night would fare. The quiet of the night did not help matters. All that filled the space was the tides of the sea and the occasional clinking of your bangles as you fidgeted with your dress. 

It was all you yearned for in your last marriage, a night of intimacy as a husband and wife should. But now that you were at the precipice of getting what you wanted, dread filled your chest. You’d heard from your older sisters and servants what it was like to lay with a man. From their stories, it did not seem enjoyable. Not for women. It was only something to bear for the sake of having children. And all you wanted was to have children. 

You loved Consus’ children of course. They were all you had in the lonely life you led with him. But they were taken from you soon, married off or sent to battle in many campaigns. And you wanted your own children. Have what your brothers and sisters had. Hold your newborns in your arms and raise them from their first breaths rather than from the middle of their childhood. 

In your fantasizing of motherhood, you had completely forgotten that you had to be bed by your husband to become a mother. You had forgotten your sisters describe how painful it would be the first time a man took you. If one’s husband was a barbarian with a big cock, it would hurt each time although not as much as the first. A servant girl told you that she had the luxury of a kind husband who would not touch her if she said she was feeling unwell. But there were also husbands who would beat their women for refusing to perform their marital duties when asked. 

Your thoughts grew louder and louder in your head until you couldn’t hear the ocean anymore. And you most certainly did not hear when the doors opened and your husband entered. When you perceived his presence, he was already sat by you. When he spoke your name, your heart nearly jolted out of your chest. 

He laughed softly and looked you over with a smile on his plush lips. The candle lights illuminated his golden skin and the strands of gray that interspersed his dark hair. The candle on his other side shone bright to highlight his silhouette, his aquiline nose standing bold, characteristic of a valorous man. The sight had you transfixed and you wondered if his godlike visage aided him in battle. If it distracted his enemies long enough for him to slay them. 

He reached his hand out to yours, brought it up from your lap and placed a kiss on your fingers. He looked up at you from your fingers, his brown eyes drawing you in like Cupido himself was pulling your strings like a marionette. 

“I have kept you waiting for long.” 

Not as long as Consus did. But you kept the comment to yourself. You’d never come close to a marital bed but something told you that men did not want to hear about a woman’s previous husband. 

You spoke for the first time in his presence. “You are an important man. I understand.” 

He smiled, dropping your hand to the space between you but not leaving it. His hand was rough from battle yet gentle in touch. It enveloped yours, exuding a soft dominance like the rest of him did. He was quite large and you winced internally, hoping that it did not translate to his size elsewhere. Did your sisters ever tell you about the relationship between the size of his man and his manhood? You couldn’t quite remember. 

“Have the servants made the home comfortable for you? It has been quite a while since this home had a domina.” 

You nodded and licked your lips, wishing you could run out to fetch some water for your drying mouth. “It is comfortable. And very beautiful. I have never seen the ocean before.” 

“There is nothing like the peace the sound of the waves brings. Nothing like the cool breeze at night and relaxing on the balcony to indulge in the stunning blue expanse.” 

“The sight of the ocean when the sun sets is truly incomparable. I spent many evenings mesmerized by it.” 

Like magic, the pressure in your lower belly disappeared. You spoke about the beauty of Rome and indulging in it. He put you at ease, drawing smiles out of you, each one wider than the last. But you had a way of finding something to torture yourself over. As you exchanged details about your past, you blurted the question out. 

“Am I to your liking?” 

“You are beautiful. Worthy of the praises your father sings of his younger daughter in the senate. And at banquets. The bathhouses and libraries and markets. Rome does not know your name but she knows you.” 

“I…” you swallowed, relieved that he found you beautiful but afraid for everything else to come. You were inexperienced but even you knew that beautiful faces were not enough to be an adequate wife. It was not adequate for Consus and you did not want a repetition of that with the General. “I do not know what you require in a wife. But I will learn. I have kept my hair out of braids. I learned that you prefer it that way. I will learn everything else too.” 

Please allow me to learn. Do not discard me for my inadequacies before I have the opportunity to prove myself. 

“Your father also described you as dutiful. I see he was right.” 

“Stand up,” he said and took your hand once again, guiding you to stand in front of him. “Undress. Let me see you.” 

He leaned towards the headboard of the bed, relaxing with his arm draped over it as he looked at you. You felt your heart thud like a galloping horse on the battlefield. Like a good soldier would, you persisted into your own battle and undid the ties and clasps that kept your clothes in place. He sat back, exuding power with his broad shoulders, wide chests and thick thighs spread apart. 

Something about the situation made you feel like cattle in the market being evaluated by customers. Did the cows feel the way you did? Did they wonder as they were purchased if they would be slaughtered for meat or kept to be bred and milked? At least they had the peace of mind knowing that the man who bought them was satisfied with his purchase. 

The General hadn’t seen you before he took you for a wife. 

Silk pooled around your legs and the cold breeze he’d waxed poetic about caressed your skin. The cold and the shame of being bare in front of a man persuaded you to cross your arms over your chest. You kept your eyes on the ground, focusing on his feet and yours being so close together. 

You jumped when his hand grazed your elbow but refused to look at him for fear of what you would find. Disappointment? Disgust? Anger? You could not fathom which would be the worse outcome. 

“Do not hide from your husband,” he said, gently prying your arms apart. Arms by your side, you dug your fingernails into your palm to keep from covering yourself again. Consus never laid a hand on you— never bedded you, never hit you. The General had been sweet so far, but you did not know who he was and what he did when angered. 

He held your hip and caressed your soft skin with his calloused hand. You inhaled sharply, overwhelmed by the proximity of his hand to your core. You pressed your thighs together, your feminine demureness anxious to keep your most intimate parts hidden from men’s eyes. 

“Turn around. Slowly,” he said, guiding you by your hips. As soon as you faced away from him, you brought your hands back up to cover your breasts. He did not seem to notice as his hand trailed down to your rear and grabbed your flesh in both hands. You whimpered, feeling somehow more exposed though you had not become more naked.

“Beautiful…” he hummed as he rotated you to face him once again. You dropped your arms to your sides as though you had touched a hot pot, his instruction ringing in your ear. 

“And obedient… I could not have chosen better. Now show me what you can do, girl.” It was enough for you to finally look up at him. There were none of the expressions you feared you would see. He looked quite relaxed and you were afraid you would ruin that with your ignorance of what you were to show him. 

“I will do anything you ask,” you answer meekly, hoping he would tell you exactly what he wanted you to do. Hoping he would instruct you every step of the way. 

“Show me how you will serve me.” 

You swallowed, thinking through every bit of information your sisters and servants had given on pleasing a man. It all came down to obedience, to lying down and taking what your husband gave you. Were you supposed to do something else? 

“P-please,” you whispered, the world distorted as it spilled from your trembling lips. “Show me what I should do.” 

He stood up, startling you and forcing you to take a step back. He placed a hand on your lower back and caressed gently like you did a litter of feral kittens when you were a girl. 

He placed a finger under your chin and nudged you to look up at him. “Nothing you should do, beautiful girl. I only want what you want to do.” 

“I have never…” you trailed, shaking your head in denial. “I am still chaste,” you blurted out. He froze in place, deep brown eyes boring into you.

“Your father said you were a devoted mother.” 

“To Consus’ children. Borne by his first and second wives. After his second wife died in childbirth, he— I raised the children.” 

“You do not want children of your own?” 

“I do!” You exclaimed quickly, afraid this life would be taken from you once again. You kept silent throughout your marriage and you couldn’t do that again. Not if it meant your womb staying barren. “I do. Consus, he— both his wives before me died in childbirth and the children— he did not want them to lose another mother. So he never touched me. I am chaste.” 

“Your father did not tell me.” 

“I did not tell him. Consus wrote to my family that I lost pregnancies. Had my father known that he was— that we did not live as a married man and woman— he would have had me divorce him. Consus did not want that for the children and I could not tell my family the truth until he passed. Please… If my father believed I could not bear children, he would not have arranged for our marriage.” 

You naively believed your father would have informed the General of your predicament. Giving one’s daughter to a man when you believed her barren was no small slight. Your felt as though a stone had lodged itself in your throat. You had just doomed yourself and your father. He could march up to the senate come sunrise. Humiliate your father. Take his sword to his neck. All because you were too foolish to know how to please a man. 

“What of you?”

“What of me?” You asked, confused. He took your hands in his and guided you to sit on the bed. He joined beside you.

“Why did you remain loyal to such a loathsome man? One who besmirched you to your family rather than admit to his deficiencies as a man?” 

“I was young and foolish. When I realized that he would never give me children, I… he had already lied enough to my family about my—” you stopped and shook your head. There was no need to speak ill of the dead man. No need to remind yourself how your barrenness made you the laughing stock of the village. “I resigned myself to the fate the gods had chosen for me. And I grew to love his children as my own.”

“I want more children. I ha— all my sons are dead, a few daughters too.” 

You nodded, your chest clenching from the pained look in his eyes. It was universal. Almost everyone who’d had children had lost children. But the pain never subsided. You’d seen it in your sisters, noble women of the highest ranking, in servants and slaves. The first time in a General.

“I want to have children.” 

He smiled and nodded before picking up your linen stola from the ground and wrapping it around you. He cupped your cheek, his hand engulfing the entirety of your face. He tilted his head, a soft sigh escaping his lips as his eyes bore into yours.

You leaned closer to him, praying you remembered how to kiss from the few times with a servant girl when you were only thirteen. Anticipation and anxiety had your heart racing together. When he finally touched his lips to yours, he quietened every anxiety, leaving only excitement behind. You placed a hand on his armor, the hardness of the metal underneath the leather contrasting the softness of his lips. Your other hand moved of its own accord, finding the nape of his neck. His soft curls tickled your fingers and he sighed into the kiss. 

He traced your lips with the tip of his tongue and you opened up, welcoming him. A sense of calm settled in you as you explored each other. In his arms, you found safety for the first time since your arrival. His lips coaxed you to the gates of heaven and you followed as you imagined soldiers followed your General into war. With some fear of the uncharted territory yet brave because they trusted his leadership.

When you pulled away from each other, something felt changed. He no longer felt like a stranger. Something in his eyes, an openness inviting you into his life. 

The ravages of war and time were evident in his features. A scar on the bridge of his nose perhaps from a time he came too close to his own end. His skin was spotted with marks from the sun. His eyes were soft not from the naïveté of youth but from seeing the harsh world. His golden skin peeked from under his beard decorated with a few grey flecks. You caressed a patch of skin where his beard did not grow. 

Not an hour had passed since you met him but in his embrace, glancing into his eyes, you knew life would be peaceful.

Follow and turn notifications on on @chocofountain-notifs to be notified when I post. Find my other PPCU fics here.

[jobean12-blog]

Make It Last

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x female reader (Mob/Mafia AU)

Word Count: 2.7K

Summary: When the most powerful man in the city wants you, it's hard to say no. Obviously he's hard to resist but considering his significance in the city you can't help but wonder if you're just another piece of arm candy, so if he wants you, he'll just have to wait.

Author's Note: I've been thinking about Mob!Bucky a lot and what it would be like the first time with him. Lovely Sydney @buck-star had sent me a Mob!Bucky thot last week and he's just so yummy! Hope you enjoy, thank you all so much for reading! Much love always! ❤️❤️❤️Divider by the sweet @firefly-graphics thank you Daisy! 🥰

Warnings: lots of build up and tension to lots of smutty fun. Bucky is dominant but also soft and gives you everything you want. Oral (f rec), p in v (wrap it up but no need here bc it's Mob!Bucky and he's good and already checked you out haha), light praise and overstim, Bucky can't get enough and you don't want him to.

“It might last longer if he just takes a picture!”

You laugh but you don’t look at your friend even after she makes the joke.

“Why is he even here? Didn’t you tell him you’d be out with the me?” she adds.

At her question you turn to Nat and raise a brow.

“He owns the place. What am I gonna do? Have security remove him for staring too much?”

Nat laughs into her drink but shakes her head. “I guess that won’t work…but it doesn’t bother you at all?”

You give Bucky one more lingering glance then turn your full attention to Nat.

“Under different circumstances it might but it’s sort of my fault that he’s so…worked up.”

“What does that mean?” Nat asks as she leans in closer with a smirk.

You take another sip of your drink. “Well, speaking of pictures…I sent him some while I was getting ready…”

Nat pauses then says, “and? Hasn’t he seen you naked already. You’ve been dating almost a month.”

“We haven’t had sex yet.”

She nearly spits out her drink. “You haven’t fucked that man yet?” She peeks over your shoulder at Bucky, who still has his full attention on you.

“I know,” you sigh. “I can’t believe I’ve lasted this long. But honestly, he’s the most powerful man in the city. He probably has had every woman alive. Why me? I didn’t want to just sleep with him and then…that’s it.”

Nat nods in understanding. “So, you’re making him work for it.”

“Work for it, wait for it…I like him. A lot. And I’m hoping that this shows him I want more than just a good fuck.”

“I bet he’s the best fuck…ever!”

Nat’s words send you into a fit of giggles that dissolve as you feel him approach, the heat at your back followed but a shiver from his whispered words against your ear.

“Enjoying yourself doll face?”

You turn your head, your face so close to his you nearly bump noses.

“I am Bucky, thank you.”

“Good,” he says. “And this is your last drink.”

Your eyes widen at his statement, and you open your mouth to argue but he places a long finger against your lips to silence you.

“I want you completely coherent when I fuck you tonight. I want you to remember everything I do to you.”

With a hard swallow you whisper, “ok,” and your eyes drop to his lips. He kisses you, sweet and soft and way too quickly.

“My car will be outside at eleven.”

He says goodbye to Nat before walking off and disappearing behind one of the doors at the back of the club.

“What was that about?” Nat asks. “You look like you might pass out.”

“I’m going to sleep with him tonight,” you answer, nearly breathless.

Your eyes roam over his body, his black button-up shirt tucked into black pants. The first two buttons of his shirt are left undone, hinting at the expanse of skin beneath and highlighting the long and muscular line of his neck. The sleeves are rolled up to his elbows and his corded forearms and prominent veins shift as he removes the lustrous watch on his wrist.

You stand and wait, watching him as he slowly stalks closer.

“Do you know how hard it’s been? How hard I’ve been…waiting?”

Your eyes drop to his pants and the clear outline of him pressing along the lush fabric. You reach out, your fingertips just brushing against him and his breath comes out in a sharp exhale.

He wraps his fingers around your wrist and drags you into his chest, pressing you against every inch of him. His lips find yours in a hungry kiss, his hands slowly tracing your curves until they cradle your face.

“Are you finally going to let me have you?” he murmurs against your lips.

Your palms flatten along his chest, and you kiss him softly.

“Yes,” you whisper.

“My favorite word,” he breathes before kissing you again.

His hands move to your back, finding the zipper of your dress and toying with the small piece of metal. You whimper with impatience, and you feel his smile against your mouth before he spins you around, so your back is to him.

Goosebumps break out across your skin as he smooths his fingertips over the curve of your shoulder then drops his hand back to the zipper, slowly pulling it down until the fabric pools at your feet.

He hums in approval, kissing the back of your neck and then the space between your shoulder.

“You’re perfect,” he murmurs, his fingers tracing the lace of your undergarments.

He turns you to face him again and then gently guides you toward the bed, pushing until you sit. He kneels, taking your foot in his hand and sliding off your heel. He repeats the action with your other foot and smooths his palm along your calf with a delicate caress.

“So soft,” he sighs then stands, gazing down at you. “So beautiful.”

He starts to unbutton the rest of his shirt, but you stand to stop him, taking the fabric between your fingers and teasingly undoing the buttons until you can push it off his shoulders.

Your fingertips lightly scrape down his chest, lingering over every scar you find before your lips press to the puckered skin.

His eyes close and he whispers your name.

When your fingers reach his pants, trembling slightly, you pull the zipper down. You reveal his boxers and the noticeable bulge beneath the tight material.

You lick your lips and brush your fingers through the soft hair just above the waistband then dip them inside, sliding your hand along every warm, silky inch of him.

He throbs in response, your thumb tracing the tip and smearing the wetness there. You kiss him all over, not taking him into your mouth yet but teasing with your lips.

“Doll,” he warns and unclenches a fist to stop you. “If you keep that up this will be finished before we even start.”

You let out a soft gasp as he helps you stand and pushes you back onto the bed. His hands skim your thighs, pulling your legs up and placing them on either side of his hips. He hovers over you, staring, the curling wisps of his dark hair falling across his forehead.

When he slides his hand between the mattress and your back, you lift yourself, giving him access to unhook your bra. He makes quick work of it but takes his time as he peels it from your body to reveal your breasts.

He stares again, his cheeks flushed and the muscles in his arms and chest straining. You reach for him, pulling him down for a kiss and pressing your bodies together. His lips trail down your neck, to your collarbone, soft nips at your skin before he continues his descent, lips leaving a trail of heat in their wake.

His tongue teases your nipple then sucks it into his mouth making your back arch in pleasure. He pays the same attention to your other breast, teasing, licking, nibbling, and soothing.

You feel his smile against your skin as he pulls away to kiss down your stomach, keeping one hand on your breast.

His name falls from your parted lips when he presses a kiss between your legs, the thin fabric of your panties doing little to dampen the heat of his breath.

He sits back, gazing down at you, fingers teasing the waistband of lace at your hips.

“Do you want my mouth doll?”

You nod, your hips squirming.

“I want to hear the word.”

“Yes!”

A satisfied look crosses his face as he hooks his thumbs into the soft material and pulls it off, purposefully dragging the tips of his fingers down your thighs and calves.

His kiss is a barely there whisper of his lips to your clit, yet it causes your entire body to quiver. He does it again and again until you’re begging for more.

Finally, his tongue flattens, and he tastes you in a long lick from top to bottom. You cry out, bucking and pushing your hips into his face. He closes his lips around your clit and sucks, applying the perfect amount of pressure to make you tremble.

His hands dig deeper into your thighs, the rings adorning his fingers leaving marks in your skin as your calves come to rest on his shoulders, opening you wider for him. His tongue circles your clit before sweeping lower and dipping inside you. Your fingers grasp his hair, another breathless moan leaving your lips.

After bringing you to the edge he pulls back and lets you catch your breath, but it’s short lived as his finger circles your clit before sliding lower to sink inside you.

“More Bucky,” you breathe.

He pulls his finger out and rubs along your entrance with two, teasing you, before only pushing one back inside.

You bring your hand down toward him, needing more, but he quickly intercepts it. He withdraws his fingers and gathers your wrists together with one hand, bringing both arms stretched out above your head.

“Keep them there,” he orders.

You start to nod but then quickly reply with a breathy, “yes.”

He bends down to kiss you, sucking your bottom lip into his mouth before sinking his teeth into it. He moves back down your body, his tongue working you over, no longer teasing, but with purpose.

It takes everything in you not to let your hands fall to his hair and when he suddenly pushes two fingers inside you, giving you what you asked for, you moan out in pleasure.

His long fingers reach deep inside you, and combined with his attention to your clit, you can feel your release building.

A warm, tingling sensation spreads through your body and your breathing turns ragged as your muscles tense.

He doesn’t stop, working you through your release and prolonging it until you’re a trembling mess beneath him.

You open your eyes to find him watching you with a heated gaze.

“Fuck doll face. I could watch you come undone for me like that every day for the rest of my life.”

His thumb sweeps over your sensitive and swollen clit and your eyes roll back.

“Again,” he murmurs, dipping between your legs before you can respond.

His lips replace his thumb, his fingers resuming their previous pace as he slides his free hand under your lower back to effortlessly lift you and bring you closer.

Everything feels ten times more sensitive now and you fight with the clashing sensations of pulsating pleasure and the soreness of overstimulation.

You feel your release approaching quickly and your eyes squeeze shut but his commanding voice pulls you from your haze.

“No,” he growls. “Open them. Look at me.”

You obey, opening your eyes again, and the sight of him between your spread thighs sends you over the edge.

“Bucky,” you choke out.

“Gorgeous,” he whispers. “But not nearly enough.”

You struggle to sit up, your eyes falling to his cock resting against his abdominals. He smirks and grips himself, pumping his hand slowly up and down his length.

“Do you need a break doll?”

“No,” you tell him, letting your legs fall open.

He settles between them, his lips kissing your neck and the sensitive spot below your ear. He slides his hand down between your bodies and rubs himself against you teasingly.

“What is it?” he asks, pausing at the slight tensing in your body.

“Nothing Bucky.”

“Tell me doll face,” he demands. “I’ll stop if you want me to.”

“No!” you say quickly. “No. It’s not that. You’re just…bigger than what I’m used to.”

He smirks, rolling his hips slowly, not pressing in yet.

“You can take it doll.”

His hand moves to your face, grasping your jaw, keeping you looking up at him.

“Keep your eyes on me.”

“Yes Bucky.”

His other hand grips your waist, holding you steady, and your breath catches in your throat as he begins to press into you, then came out in a low moan as he unhurriedly sinks in, making you feel every throbbing inch of him.

Your eyes flutter closed, but then his fingers dig into your jaw, a silent reminder to keep your eyes open. Your body stretches to accommodate him, the initial burn giving way to sweet friction as you relax.

He continues to move maddeningly slowly, his gaze never leaving yours, the intimacy of the moment making your pulse pick up in a way that has nothing to do with his languid movements.

He lets out a soft exhale as he finally stills, settled fully inside you. Your inner walls flutter around him as you adjust to his size, and he pulls back slightly, only to push back in with more force, drawing another moan out of you.

“See doll. You take me so well,” he praises. “Do you want more?”

“Yes,” you say, your hands wrapped around his biceps, feeling the power in his muscles as he holds himself over you.

He draws back until only the tip remains inside you and then slips back in slowly. You lift your hips with impatience but his hand pushes on your stomach to pin you back down to the bed.

He leans in to kiss you, softly and with sweet, whispered words. The slow roll of his hips builds tightness in your stomach, and he takes your hand in his, pressing it next to your head, entwining your fingers.

You slide your free hand through his hair, dragging your fingers through the soft strands and then down his neck. He closes his eyes, savoring the sensation, his hold on your hand tightening.

“I could come just from this,” he says huskily, lips dropping down to your ear. “Just from the sight of you completely ruined under me.”

His words make you squeeze around him, and he lets out a low, deep rumbling moan into your neck. You jerk your hips up toward him, your legs trying to draw him closer and deeper.

He lets go, pumping his hips faster, fingers digging into your thigh possessively as your body jolts with the force of it.

With a precise and purposeful rhythm, he keeps a relentless pace until your body explodes with every sensation and all you can do is hold onto him and listen to the rough sound that comes deep from his throat.

He pants against your neck, then trails soft kisses along your jaw to your lips, his kiss slow and deep, making you breathless all over again. Your heart beats frantically between you, his own a rapid thump, thump, thump, against his sweaty chest.

With gentleness he pulls out and lays down next to you, throwing his arm over your waist and curling you toward him. You quickly get lost in his cocoon of warmth, sighing, and closing your eyes, but he presses two fingers under your chin, lifting your gaze to his.

“I want to clean you up,” he whispers. “And I want you to stay the night with me.”

Your quiet “yes,” makes him smile proudly and he carefully extracts himself, returning quickly with a warm cloth and delicate hands.

He slides up the bed and pulls you to him, closing the distance and pressing a soft kiss to your cheek, then the corner of your mouth and finally your lips. His hand cradles your face, his thumb swiping over your lips, applying enough pressure to part them.

Then his hand glides along your throat and his fingers close around the back of your neck to angle your head in a way that allows him a deeper kiss.

When he pulls away his nose gently bumps yours and he opens his eyes, ghosting his lips to yours as he whispers, “so perfect for me doll.”

[nysrage]

MOVIE NIGHT, Connie Springer.

synopsis: you and connie always had an unique friendship, all touch feely with one another, but tensions rise after you two took a detour down lustrous lane.

You and your friends were always known for spontaneously coming up with a move. Basking in the time of some unplanned fun until all of you had to face the real world once you were all out of college. The group of you piled up in the dorms common area, with the projector running after feasting on wings, pizza, and alcohol. Ending the night with a horror movie that was sure to have you all watching your surroundings for the next few days.

“girl come on! the movies starting!” sasha called out to you, dimming the lights in the room while you quickly grabbed a few snacks that’ll last you throughout the film.

Entering the common space just for your spot to be taken by onyankapon. Sprawled out across the floor as if he wasn’t just pushing 6’5. “Now ony you knew that was my spot!” You whined.

Ony brushing you off with a laugh as he typed away in his phone. “shittt you decked the fuck out this cot, and workouts been beating my ass sis.”

You sucked your teeth, trying to find any spot you could until there was a light tug on your arm, turning to face your bestfriend connie. golden eyes low from the edible he indulged himself in earlier, voice all low and deep “c’mere, you know i got you..”

pulling you down to sit in just in front of him between his legs, tucked in the corner of the room. His arms circled around your middle as you shifted around till you were comfortable, resting his chin on your should just as the intro of the movie began. Affection such as this was natural between the two of you, so natural that no one would ever bat an eyelash at the two of you unless they didn’t know your dynamic.

Only it hadn’t been so natural lately, the two of you putting a slight distance in your relationship this past week. It’d all been so tense since that one night the two of you heatedly made out session in the closet at a party. Never speaking on it again. Everyone but the two of you swore there was more to your relationship than you spilled, and they were so wrong until that kiss where the both of you drunkenly revealed the love you had for one another. Causing a slight rift between you, but it was so very short lived after tonight.

Horror was the very thing you steered clear of but who were you to rain on everyones parade. Plus being in the same space as your bestfriend gave you some comfort. He always kept you safe, even if things between the two of you were a bit complicated at the moment.

Within the first fourty minutes of the movie you were practically in his lap. Shifting around quite a bit, glancing behind you at connie whose eyes were focused on the screen. You were a bit uneasy from the jump scares. Yet the thing that had you so bothered had nothing to do with the movie. Being so close to connie felt so different now, and it always left you flustered whenever you were in his presence. Plus the feeling of connie pressed so close to your ass, didn’t help to ease every disgusting thought that through your mind right now. From the way his arms and big hands wrapped around your waist. To the feeling of his body pressed so close against yours, it made you all dizzy.

Little did you know, it was the same effect for connie. You, pressing yourself further into every time you got scared. That soft ass sitting atop his pelvis all heavy and round. Your chubby waist resting in his arms as he caressed your soft, smooth, brown skin of your belly. The two of you just so hot and bothered. Pining for eachother in a suffering silence, until the two of began to break. Not able to take it anymore. Maybe it was the liquor? Shit or the weed? Hell, maybe even the good feeling the two of you gave each other last week but that sexual tension wasn’t something the two of you could fight anymore.

Connie let his hands wander mindlessly over your chubby little body, tracing over the skin of your hips and thighs. Massaging the soft flesh and dipping lower to the creases of your inner thighs. The skin all warm and smooth to the touch, as he gently explores your body. Not missing one reaction you had to his touches, big or small. Burying himself into your neck to drown himself in the seductive ass perfume you always wore, and succumbing to the urge to have that soft skin against his lips again. Placing a soft kiss to your exposed shoulder as he continued to massage the squishy cellulite in your thighs. Your body melts into his as you get all worked up, huffing out a small breathe of air. Body growing hotter by the second from these little minuscule touches.

“I missed you..” you whimper out softly, legs subconsciously spreading to give his hands more freedom to roam. Connie responding with a content hum as he placed a wet kiss against the warm skin of your neck. dipping his hands lower to ghost over the soft flesh of your inner thighs. Dick growing stiff against that soft ass pressed so hard against him. “f-fuck, i missed you too.”

“So much hermosa..”

“Yeah..?” the soft whine from your lips barely audible over the loud cries and thrilled beat of the soundtrack. Connie’s strong hand runs up your waist until meeting that perked nipple hidden by the ribbed fabric of your tank top. Giving your breast a firm squeeze as he indulged himself a deep inhale of your scent.

“Mhm, ” he breathed out, hands coming dangerously close to the mound of your pussy, “Gon’ let me show you how much..?” You breathe hitched, looking up at him through your lashes and meeting his lustrous eyes. All low and red, but those golden irises still glimmered with something you couldn’t quite put a finger on. You nod softly, tucking your bottom lip behind those pretty teeth of yours. “Please..”

Connie discreetly looked around the room, all your friends focused on the movie as the masked killer began slowly picking people off, singaling it was almost to its climax. He eased his hand lower, cupping your pussy just as he turned your face towards his to captured your lips in a slow sensual kiss. Swallowing the low moan breaking past your soft lips. Ghosting his hand over the thin fabric of your thong, already dampened with slick. Running his fingers along your clothed folds until reaching your peeking clit, pressing down on it to release some of that building pressure.

You call out to him in a low whine, “connie stop teasingg.” trying your hardest to be discreet, but that needy feeling of having him touchy how you always wanted was too strong, and you were too drunk off lust to realize the consequences.

“Eyes on the movie princesa, you don’t wanna get caught huh?” Whispering against the shell of your ear. You nod, focusing your eyes back on the film. Connie finally pulled those panties to the side to expose that sensitive skin. Fingers gliding through your folds with a low groan, spreading the pooling slick gathered around your entrance.

“What’s got this pussy all wet?” He hummed, giving your clit a soft slap. “Hm mamí? Thought you didn’t like scary movies..”

Fingers teasing slow circles around your clenching hole, so eager to be filled with his thick fingers. Coating his fingers in that clear sticky slick, just before slipping a fingertip into you barely easing that empty feeling and pulling it back out. Slowly stretching you out until he could fully sink two of them into your tight warm walls. Those thick digits slowly piston in and out of you, curling every so often as your walls gripped them in deeper. Moans growing louder as he scissored you open, “shh, gotta be quiet baby..”

“s-shit, connie I-I’m tryinggg..” biting down on your lip with a whimper, nails digging at his forearms. Body tensing at the quick movement from your bestfriend from afar, clamping down on his fingers hard. Just for her to adjust her pillow and lay back focused on the movieonce more, washing away all that fear of getting caught.

“calm down pretty girl, it’s just us.” connie cooed, placing a kiss behind your ear. Stroking your gummy walls, until faint squelching of your pussy could be heard below the loud screams of the film. That fiery pit set ablaze in your tummy as your clit throbs, grinding your hips down against his palm for any type of friction to ease the sensation. Curling his fingers into the spongey ball that made your hips buck up into his hand. “Yeah? Just like that?” He cooed, working messily on your slicked clit.

Walls swelling around his fingers, moaning out from the building pressure. Connie slipped two fingers in your mouth, pressing them down on your tongue as an attempt to keep you as quiet. “ I know, I know. You like when papí play with that pussy?” Head nodding rapidly, too afraid of what sound might break past your lips if you actually tried to speak with those thick digits pressed down on your tongue. “You so fucking good, so good pretty girl..”

Your eyes rolling back as your body shook in his hold uncontrollably, gushing out a creamy mess onto his fingers. The vibrations of your moans against his fingers had him ready to fuck you on the floor right there but it was about you. Swirling his fingers around your clit until he slowly brought you down from your orgasmic bliss. Your body limp in his hold, all fucked out and breathless.

Removing his digits and sucking off the creamy white slick with a moan, just as the movies end credits began to roll. Sasha flicking the lamp on with a quick pull at its string,your eyes squinting as they adjust to the sudden change in lighting, body still trembling slightly. Sasha looking over the room with a smile, dropping slightly when he eyes reached you. “You good girl..?”

You nod, mentally cursing yourself as you tried to sit up, cringing at the slicked feeling between your thighs. “She just shaken up, y’know how she get.” Connie snorted , taking all the attention off you.

Sasha giggles, hand on her hips as she teased you about your scary nature.

“c’mon it wasnt even that bad!”

[bubblebabie]

⋅˚₊ ୨୧ R.C. wants to go with you to a lash appointment!

It was a Sunday morning, and the alarm clock on the side of your bed awoke you, the soft sound stirring you from a dream. With a stretch, you reach over to stop the alarm, a rush of excitement warming you as you think of your plans for the day.

After all the anticipation, it was finally the day of your long-awaited appointment. You were always envisioning new and different lash styles, you thought would look so good on you.

You step into your luxurious bathroom, the languid, lustrous tiles echoing in the silence, beneath your feet. Turning on the bright lights, you twist the faucet, letting the water run, its steady flow fills the room before you start brushing your teeth. Thereafter, you rinse your face with refreshing cold water, the droplets revitalizing your skin as the mirror fogs lightly in response.

You move into the expansive walk-in closet, the serene, ambient light illuminating rows of precise arranged clothing. Your eyes scan the wardrobe as you search for the perfect outfit, and your gaze lands on a vibrant Juicy Couture tracksuit. Its rich, velvety fabrics give both comfort and style, and you pull it off the hanger with a satisfied smile. You pair it effortlessly with a set of Juicy Couture slippers, its plush soles offering a relaxing embrace for your feet.

You stroll over to the vanity, taking a moment to run a brush through your hair, each stroke smoothing out the morning tangles. When you are done, you add the final touch. Reaching for a delicate, blush-pink headband, you place it gently atop your head, adding a playful and chic flair to your look. You take a step back, admiring the ensemble, feeling the perfect blend of comfort and style as you prepare to start your day.

You grab your purse and head downstairs, already imagining how beautiful and effortless your lashes will look.

As you walk downstairs, you spot Rafe on the couch, lounging with his phone in hand. He looks up, his gaze meeting yours as you walk toward the door. "Where are you going?" He asks, his voice casual and curious.

"Lash Appointment," you say, glancing at your phone to check the time. "I'll be back in about an hour and a half."

He raises an eyebrow, intrigued, as he's accompanied you to any of your self-care appointments, even though he pays for all them. "Why can't I just come with you?"

You pause, taken aback by his unexpected offer. "Are you sure?" you ask, a silly smile curving your lips. Rafe shrugs, a playful grin adorning his lips. "Yeah," he says, his voice light, "I wanna see my girl get all beautiful."

You smile dreamily, thinking about how eager he is to join you, even for something as small as a beauty appointment. You sigh, knowing he wouldn't have it any other way. "Mmm, okay, but you're driving."

It's a short drive, the miles slipping away effortlessly as you engage in easy conversation. You lift your feet up onto the dashboard, carelessly talking about another upcoming appointment next week. The gentle hum of the car creates a comforting sound to your words. Rafe, eyes still on the road, listens attentively, his casual glances toward you soft with amusement. As you finish your thought, the car slows, and Rafe pulls into the parking lot of the salon.

The Salon is cozy and classy, exuding a feeling of calmness with its light aura - soft melodies drift through the air, and the delicate scent of rosemary lingers, soothing the senses. You and Rafe make your way to the reception desk, where you’re escorted to a lavish reclining chair. Settling into its embrace, you close your eyes, everything fading away as you prepare to surrender to the serenity of the moment.

The Technician, a friendly figure with a warm yet professional demeanor, introduces herself and kindly asks about your desired lash look. You smile and begin to describe the lash map you envision, detailing the length, curl, and volume you prefer. ‘I’d like a hybrid set,’ you say, your voice steady, knowing it was the perfect choice. She nods attentively, her eyes focused as she prepares her tools. Carefully, she cushions your lashes with a soft pad and begins the lash bath, a soothing process where she delicately cleanses your lashes with a gentle, hydrating solution. Its cool liquid glides over your lashes, dissolving any remnants of dirt and oil, leaving behind a fresh, dewy feeling. She works with precision, ensuring every strand is clean and prepped for the extensions - the calming scent of the cleanser filling the air.

Subsequently, she places soft patches over your eyes to shield your lower lashes and prevent any glue from getting on the skin. She starts to apply the individual extensions, one by one-each extension being intentionally selected to match the length and curl of your natural eyelashes. She held a fine-tipped tweezer to pluck the synthetic lashes, dipping the base of each one into glue before placing it onto yours. Her application is precise as she attaches the extension about a millimeter away from your eyelid to ensure a hybrid, volume look.

She begins on the outer corner of your lashes, working her way into the middle and inner sections. She works slowly, making sure the lashes are symmetrical and exactly what you want. You could feel a faint tug every time an extension was applied, but it wasn’t painful—just a light pressure as the glue set.

She takes a full hour to complete the look, working diligently in silence, only breaking it occasionally to ask if you were okay and comfortable. Rafe, who had been sitting quietly in the corner with his phone in his lap, kept his gaze fixed on your face, watching with curiosity and fascination.

Finally, she finishes the last lash, standing up and stepping back to admire her work. "All done!" She says softly, a smile tugging at her lips.

You blink your eyes open, feeling a rush of confidence as you look at your lashes in the mirror. Your lashes are long, full, and curled. The lashes are perfectly fanned out, dark and glossy, giving you a soft and voluminous look.

Rafe's reaction is instant. "Wow. You look beautiful," he says, his voice full of admiration as his eyes widen. You catch a glimpse of his genuine smile, and it makes you feel even more beautiful than the lashes themselves.

You smile back at him, feeling a wave of boldness wash over you. "Thank You, Baby!" you say warmly, touching the feather light extensions.

Having him there wasn't so bad after all.

[sundrlands]

‘below the mouth’ j. sunderland x fem reader

minors dni

cw: in the dark, shoe riding/humping, light oral fixation/spit play, slightly messy, james is depicted as a pervert, sub leaning james with him being dominant at times, obsessive(j.), mutual masturbation(?), squirting, breeding, james is in his mid to late thirties. reader uses she/her pronouns.

summary: james… your coworker. the man who seems so hardworking, headstrong and devoted to his work… is nothing but a pervert enticed with the very being that you are… he can’t help but to see you as art— a canvas to paint on… as if his hands were paint… and his fingertips as the bristles, sketching out his greed with his lips and his words.

a/n: more porn than plot, forgive me. not too fond of this one and kept eyeing it over and over over and ended up truly hating this… nonetheless i hope you find some enjoyment in this one. i did not proofread…

oh james… what ever shall he do?

poor thing, constantly wrapped up in his own mind… unable to tame the growing thoughts that mutated within him. being lonely does things to a person… the years of suppression only made his longing for intimacy fester in the darkness of his greed.

in the beginning… it had been alright— good with his composure, carrying a kind of elegance through his actions and words. he wore ‘respect’ like an honorable man— button down shirts, tucked nicely in his well ironed pants. every day he’d come in dapper, not one thing out of place. it would be impressive to notice his true desires when he hadn’t worn them out on his sleeves.

though now… it was a different story. there’s only so much he could take… seeing you in your work outfits every single day or hearing your voice… the song you sung that never failed to make him treasure your being and feel every vowel that spewed from your lips filter and sprawl all throughout his veins. james tried to keep his need low, always being so gentleman like— kind, thoughtful and charming, but his thickening puddle of lust seeped through in the growing void that rests in the center of his eyes… being far dirtier than what meets the eye, disgusting even.

it was cute once you picked up on it… or at least the extent of it— his shyness and ability to lose all self, unable to maintain professional eye contact or a flowing sentence without randomly clearing his throat. a man well into his thirties— one that was valued by your shared boss, exceeding work ethic, always saying ‘yes ma’am’ and ‘yes sir’, not blinking an eye to the rule’s code— felt the need to act so foolishly enticed when it came to you.

for him, the absence of touch— one that he never felt come from your hand — drove james into a constant state of lustrous want… it ate within his being like a hungered cannibal digging its fingers through every fiber of his flesh. it prodded and ripped in the center of his chest like a wolf's canines as he sat at his work desk, drained… lifeless… thinking about everything he wanted to do to you… or whatever you’d do to him.

the inside of his body grew hot at the thought of you— dry throat, racing heart, fumbling words… his eyes, lingering all over your body longer than they had the day before, trying to see how much he could get away with… letting every second store itself in his photographic memory.

infested with carnality, day and night. james’ mind couldnt escape his perverted thoughts; as if it was the horrid and angry deep sea, crashing against the softness of the hot sand, in need of something to fix prurience, and the heightening want to be underneath your skin.

it started off with a hello, you being new and him well within the company’s community by a decade or two. a sweet exchange of a firm gripped hand shake and small talk before you went on your way. upon his sight, he was already fond of the beauty you blossomed. he wasn’t able to stop himself from looking… and as time continued, each day you met with him, it caused him to be in his head.

whenever you agreed to go out with your coworkers to local bars and restaurants, he’d ask around, passively, wanting to know if you’d be there to join. any chance he’d get, he’d sit next to you or across from you, thinking that the lack of lighting would hide the fact that he sat there to study you— his gentle hazel eyes, staring with eagerness… tattooing you into the grooves of his brain. each time you all went out, it was as if he tried harder… or lost the ability to care if you noticed or not. catching his eyes… for the first few seconds he didn’t even realize your attention on him until you’d call out his name a few times or lean towards him, breasts spilling from your top.

he’d go home, all eager. undoing his tie and his belt, slamming his door shut and making his way towards his bed, muttering: “just this once…” to himself, staring down at his hardened dick after thinking about the way your breasts sat prettily in the top you wore.

with his eyes squeezed shut, his wrist rippled in fast motion with whitening knuckles. he’d call out your name. each whinier than the last… feeling the weight of your name kiss the head of his cock— irregular breathing, toes curling into the thick of his comforter— whines that turned into a chants. over and over again he moaned your name, not even lasting three minutes until he let himself go… ribbons of his hot cum falling down onto his chest.

shame filtered his body almost instantaneously, not understanding how he was able to let himself go just from a simple top you wore… he swore to himself that that would be the first and only time he’d ever do something like that— to rush into his house just to relieve the growing hard on that you, without much acknowledgment, gave him.

and for a few days, he hadn’t. it didn’t stop the stares or the way his cock jumped upon hearing your voice… he’d just fall back into the same perverted state, clutching onto the arm of his work chair while you talked to him about something he couldn’t even pay much attention to. he saw the outline of your body against your work outfit thinking about how you’d look if he ripped it off.

his breathing quickened as he tried to direct his gaze on something else, his computer… maybe his paperwork? it didn’t help because he could still hear you fucking speak.

a sharp gulp and a shaky sigh— it was the most obvious he’s ever been, sensing the way he was unable to sit still. “james?” you called out, amusement lingering in the tone of your voice.

“uhm.” he huffed, a faint smirk curling at the side of his lips, trying to keep his composure as much as he could. “sorry… im not feeling too well.” turning his head to you, seeing a warm, devious yet alluring smile rest on your lips. almost immediately, he reacted. swallowing hard and clearing his throat.

walking towards where the man sat, you placed your hand at his shoulder, feeling the softness of his suit glide against your palm, finding his averting eyes, “do you need me to… get you anything?”

he shook his head, flinching upon touch, dropping his attention into his lap where his hands bunched to cover the obvious dent. “it… it’s fine. i just have to use the restroom… excuse me.” his voice quick and slurred, body immediately jumping up from his chair as he made his way to the men’s bathroom.

the beat of his heart ran heavily in his ribcage, causing his body to burn and wither as he laid himself limply against the bathroom’s door. each inhale was harder to stabilize— the air feeling heavy and clunky as it lumped and fell down his throat. with the soft jingle of his belt, he pulled his pants and underwear down to his knees, “god…” he sighed, wrapping his hand around his cock— hot and tortured, “why do you… why do you turn me on so much?”

soft chokes and mutters fell in the echoing bathroom’s walls, covering his mouth creating muffled whimpers to exude and swell. his body churned and trembled, hearing the loose hinges of the door combat with his movement. “fuck… fuck…” he whined, his eyes traveling up to see the mirror across the way.

the sight of himself… it almost looked like his own reflection was a stranger. no person has ever made him have the need to run for a quick release… at least not from their voice alone. it was just how eager he was— how eager you made him— the look of his knees buckling, the pace of his pumps, the skin of his face shake and the way he desperately tried to keep himself quiet… he looked so pathetic to himself, never seeing that side or noticing how much you made him that way just from the sight of you.

in a way… it turned him on, getting a better picture of what you’d see if you were to stand in this very bathroom. thoughts grappled through his visionary mind, his vision shooting towards different places in the bathroom, looking at the sink: how pretty you’d look, pants down your legs with him fucking up into you, your own eyes in the mirror, watching yourself getting fucked by him. or in the stall: your fingers clutching harshly at the stall’s door with his fingers deeply plunging itself inside of your cavern.

a million and one things infiltrated his desires until he couldn’t find himself to stop even after the first time he came onto the bathroom’s floor. his wrist burned with the consistent motion, after his cock hadn’t let up its hardness, moaning as quietly as he could to have himself go limp.

thirty minutes he spent in there… and for him to be known to cum quick… it only meant that he rung himself dry. he couldn’t even walk straight— you knowingly understanding the weight of power you had over him after you timed his absence and him finally waddling back into his chair.

“you alright?” you laugh sweetly, being as oblivious as you could possibly be within his perspective, trying not to stare at the small wet spot that circled at his crotch.

“yeah…” his voice trembling, still in a daze from his multiple orgasms, “must’ve ate something funny…”

after that day… jerking off in the office’s bathroom, there was no turning back— as if that was the only reason that would’ve been true. there was no way he’d be able to contain the continuous passion that resonated all throughout his body— as if you talked to him through your idle.

days would pass and he’d show himself more and more obvious, losing the care to show off his usual persona. he’d take one of your handkerchiefs you left on your desk when you hadn’t been around, tucking them in his pockets only to inhale the left over scent that interwoven itself into its soft cloth, using it almost every night until all he could smell was his own scent. he’d hold onto your wrist when trying to grab your attention, clutching it until he felt the gentle pulse, syncing with the growing hard on he’d feel build and tighten at the crotch of his pants.

on random days, he’d listen when you spoke to other’s about the dates you’ve been on, hearing how they werent satisfying you— filling his brain with possible ways he’d make you feel good. taking you out to eat with good food and wine with an even better conversation only to have him balls deep inside of you just for you to remember nothing from anyone in your past and only form yourself at the outline of his cock.

on a sunny afternoon, you had a held a party for your birthday— all the coworkers you found as friends, including james— in your house for drinks, food and good music. you kept your eye on him as much as you could without making it obvious that the only reason for the party was to see how he’d react now being so close to you.

he showed nothing but nervousness, almost never leaving the cushions from your couch, not even drinking or eating for that matter. he looked uncomfortable… or maybe he was just deep in thought. it only took one look away for him to disappear, his lack of person and the indent of where he sat on the couch to be shown.

james decided he needed more… that handkerchief wasn’t enough since your scent was gone and his imaginations made his want physically hurt considering he wasn’t able to touch you like he wished he could.

finding his way to your room, he rummaged through your dirty laundry, finding a pair of black panties, keeping it to himself. in a cold sweat, he knew that he had time to spare, whipping his head back and forth from the cloth towards your bedroom door before he sat on your bed, rolling his thumb at the crotch of your underwear.

deep and staggered breaths, he rose it up to his nose, smelling the soiled cloth, noticing how these pair must’ve been worn during your arousal, his cock reacting like wildfire— choking at the lack of air he gave himself from the constant huffing he did. each inhale was like heaven. god… your pussy smelt so good… better than he could imagine. the muscle of his tongue sliding at the left over cream marks left, his moans staggering, almost in need of crying at how good this action made him feel.

placing the underwear in his mouth, he grabbed what was closest to him— your pillow— angling his body to get himself off. luckily with how loud the music had been outside, no one would be able to hear the brash creeks of your bed as he humped himself to oblivion. hips snapping, fingers curling into your bed’s unmade sheets with his face planted deep within them as he sniffed whatever your body’s scent leftover.

this is what he wanted… this is what he feened for. only orgasming once, he fixed your bed trying to replicate as if he had never been on it, tucking the panties… and one more in his pants pocket and walking out of your bedroom.

met with him, you smiled, noticing the lust that fumed off of his person, not making it seem as if you knew, “what’re you doing in there? the parties out there silly.” you laughed.

“yeah! i was just looking for the bathroom.” he gulped.

nodding, you ran your tongue over the bottom of your lip, eyeing how his hair wasn’t as neat as it had been before and his shirt wasn’t tucked in as it usually was. “it’s just down there.”

“thank you.” scattering down the hall.

upon entering your room, all you could smell was the foreign aroma of his arousal, smiling at how you didn’t even had to do anything to him physically let alone verbally and he got so worked up. riddled with temptation, you knew you had this man wrapped around your finger, obliging with his action and giving him more with your seductive nature.

it was more noticeable now— how you both operated whenever with each other. anyone could just sense it, feel it, cut it in the thickening air of their razor nails. the body languages, the way you both spoke, the way your eyes spoke with extreme intent.

the tingling sensation rose within your body, almost electrifying you whenever you heard your name being called by him— his natural rasp that croaked from his throat, huddling over your eardrums with bliss. you could only guess what he did that day when he bolted off into the bathroom. it was obvious. feeling your attraction grow by his attentiveness and the willingness of him trying so desperately to be beside you… just thinking about him got you so worked up.

it was fun witnessing his obvious need to separate himself just to get off… but the poor boy needed solace you thought to yourself.

he was being such a good boy, trying so hard not to put himself onto you, being respectful enough, kind and excusing himself but you decided to take charge— have him finally able to get what he wanted and what you were curious about.

one night, you took that advantage as everyone else had dispersed from the office, it had only been you two, him hunched in his chair, face glowing from his computer screen and you packing all of your work to go home. he usually stayed overtime, having his own set of keys the boss left because of his repetitive stay.

now you stood within his space, the office dark, a low hum coming from james not even noticing your silhouette that stood just at his cubicle. “you going home?” you spoke out, your voice lulling out.

startled, he turned at his chair, swallowing down the large lump that rested at his throat. “oh!” he chirped, looking back and forth at the shadow that made up of you and his computer screen. “uh not yet… there’s some things i have to finish.”

“could it wait? just for a little?”

furrowing his eyebrows, he sat confused, noticing the tone of your voice, feeling his palms dampen, rubbing them roughly at his pant legs.

oh how cute he was acting.

“sorry i..” he chuckled nervously, “im confused.”

sucking at your tongue, you stepped forward, the screen’s light falling at your outline, exposing the lust that mixed in with the devious expression that wore on your face. “don’t give me that look,” you cooed, closing the distance between you both until your feet planted themselves just before him. “tell me, what has you still in this office this late at night?”

“uhm yeah…” he chuckled again, his words slow as he spoke about the finishing touches of a project that had been due in a few days. quite honestly, you hadn’t cared much to know, you just enjoyed the random inhales of breath in between his words as he tried to keep his composure at bay.

“such a good man you are. i take it your work ethic is better than all of us combined?”

he cleared his throat, tilting his head in nervousness at the choice of words that trickled down, aiming at his spine with him tensing in his chair. “th… thank you.”

“but you should take a break, you seem all pent up. that isn’t healthy, don’t you think?”

“what do you purpose?” he asked with you humming in response.

the silence between that fell in the air was loud, burning against your eardrums until you heard his breathing coming in shallow wheezes, his chest tightening as his heart hammered at his ribcage. he couldn’t even look at you… his head couldn’t lift itself from his hands, fingers tangling with themselves.

“can you look at me?” you soothed.

no response was given, just the raise of his body at every heavy inhale.

“look at me james…” your voice now coming out as a whisper, using your hand to curl at his jaw, feeling the roughness of the stubble that ran alongside it. at a gentle lift, his face rose, his eyes staggering to follow until you saw the gentle, puppy-eyed man lock himself onto you. “that’s it..”

at the tilt of his head, his body hiccuped in a trickling gasp. every memory of him being by himself, jerking his hardening cock, the sounds of his own pleasuring cries echoed in his brain. it burned at his cheeks with a peach strain— embarrassed but enamored by the sway of your lulling voice and kind eyes. the cold that emitted from your hand felt like static, almost foreign, unable to comprehend that you where here, actually touching him and it wasn’t just his perverted mind conjuring up a scene of you having your way with him.

just by your simple touch, it felt raw and ravenous—body stiffening like tainted brittle bones… his spine slowly contorting in a fidgeting arch, like christ himself pressed his jellied pierced palms across the flesh of an aching wound. “fuck…” he breathed, giving up on his lose of current reality, placing his own hand on top of yours, sliding it more onto his own face. he buried himself in it, eyes closing, falling into a blissful state, feeling the warmth that blossomed and coddled at his skin.

his mind and his body was starved… in need of you as if the only sin he knew was nothing but greed— believing the palms of your hands was magic, a bandage to a scab, an antidote to a sickness. you did nothing but stand there, watching him revel in pleasure just from your hand now stroking his face slowly and delicately, admiring the sweet yet sorrowful pout drawn at his lips.

“follow my words.” you spoke, interrupting the silence between you both, “can you do that for me james?”

his eyes dilated, feeling his stomach drop hearing his name being called. it drove him mad and it only was because of your voice— so gentle and sweet, thick as if he could gnaw on it. “yes…” he finally answered.

standing behind him, you let the pressure of your hands massage his back, feeling the tension reside in his shoulders. you could feel his irregular breathing at every push your fingers gave, knuckles whitening at the clutch of his pant legs. “oh wow you’re so tense… why is that?”

“just… all the work is getting to me.”

“yeah?” your voice obvious in sensuality, hearing his grunt when you let the pressure fall a little rougher. a quiet exchange of noises bounced back and forth with comforting and pent up sighs, spending a good few minutes, trailing your hands down the sides of his arms, “you’re pretty built underneath this suit.” you teased.

clenching his eyes tight, he screamed at himself internally, trying to speak to his cock to not harden but it failed, looking down at his lap and seeing what the computer’s light was able to show, letting out a quiet laughing hum. you had him now…

“stand… and kiss me.”

and so he stood, his arms awkwardly at his sides, broadcasting his awful posture as he waited for your next move. from a simple swift movement, your hand met with the back of his neck, pulling him in, pressing your lips against his. the sync of your lips were soft and slow but quickly it changed by the lead of his tongue that cascaded along the bottom of yours, inhaling the hitching breath as his fingers played with the bottom of his suit jacket.

gentle grunts hummed against your flesh, opening your lips to oblige by his speed, noting the way he drank your existence in the exchange of your mouths. his tongue fluttered against yours, rolling the tip of his muscle against the ridges of your teeth, spit spilling down one another’s chins as your bodies fell closer into one another feeling the pattern of your breathing fall as one.

your leg pressed in the middle of his, feeling his bulge rub against you with a higher pitched moan being a gift of your sudden embrace.

the air was hot and heavy despite the chill from the office that hugged you both, "ride it.." you moaned in between the kiss, moving your leg in slow grinds, feeling the heat that emitted from his clothed cock weave through your work pants.

“okay…” he answered back, removing himself from the kiss as his hips started to buck forward in motion with your leg’s movement.

his body couldn’t keep up with the burning passion that continued to spread through his body, starting with the aching sensation that rested at his cock.

no words had been exchanged, only moans as if it that was the only language you both understood— the lack of light only being laminated by the moon that fell through the windows and the computer screen. your hand strengthened its grip, foreheads pressed against one another, feeling his leg fall in between your leg in the midst of his grinds.

both of you fell in lust with the eager grinds you shared, hearing the rut of clothes being rubbed against one another, his unknowing hands, placing its purpose at your hips, gripping incredibly tight, pulling you closer at every hungered thrust, your eyes gulping the color of his.

he moved his body, you whining quietly at the empty feeling of his knee. he dropped down, leveling his face at your legs, pressing kisses starting at your ankle and to your knee, moving his lips as his tongue peaked through, letting spit form and absorb in the cloth of your pants until he reached your waist.

"may i...?” he whimpered, a smile curling at your lips, nodding with his fingers making its way to your shirt, yanking it upwards which made you gasp at the sudden movement. he continued his kiss, the cold inhale of his breath washing against your skin as he pressed his lips at the lining of your peaking underwear, running his tongue alongside it.

with a deep press of his lips, he left wet marks, pressing his face into your stomach, his head dragging all the way up your torso, inhaling the sweet smell of your detergent as well as the soap that coated your skin, until he stood once again, finding your neck, taking a bite without much warning— feeling the flesh sink between the spaces in his teeth. 'so soft', he thought, letting his lips latch and suck roughly, as he used his unoccupied hand to pull your body closer to him.

his tongue rippled and rolled against the aching bitten part of your neck, popping himself off before he pressed a kiss at the hem of your ear, "is this real?" he whispered, pressing more kisses at the side of your face. it felt prosperous, feeling his lips scatter the smooth surface of your face, neck and ear— fingers prodding the side of your waist.

"can you say it… please?” releasing a sharp gasped whisper, his nose dragging along your cheek, sighing out a moan. "say…my name... i need to hear your voice.”

"james..." you exhaled, enjoying the way he wanted nothing but your time and your attention. he made you feel sexy.. desirable, like his own drug that he was unable to let go or take control of. every touch felt purposeful, hungry… soft with a strain of roughness.

"no... louder. say it... please say it louder." his words breathless, cracking each time his voice dipped in register, letting open mouthed kisses to gently press onto your skin.

"james!" your voice rose, saying it over and over at every press of his lips you felt, his moans talking back to each time he heard his name flutter from your throat. your voice felt like it was running down his spine and settling itself right at his cock. you adored how cute he was without even knowing that you wanted to devour him— the sharp want to have him crumble in your embrace.

“fuck..” he cried sweetly, his voice breaking down in harmony. you placed your hands at his shoulders pushing him down as he obeyed your forceful action, him now on his knees.

without a thought, you pressed the bottom of your shoe at his obvious bulge, pressing your weight on it, his body shuddering with his lips ajar. “tell me…” your diction sounding breathless, feeling the outline of him through the sole of your shoe, “do you think of me… while you touch yourself.” his eyes growing, surprised and slightly worried— not as if it wasn’t telling he came at the thought of you.

he couldn’t answer, only giving a harsh swallow and swiveling hips, humping into the sole of your shoe.

“come on pretty boy… answer… i know you do it.”

“yes…” he gulped, “i do… i do. all the fucking time.” he admitted, his words flowing fast with his hips coming at the same speed.

placing your foot down on the floor, he immediately straddled, hands grabbing onto your calf for support as his hips rippled and rutted deeply into you like a horned dog. whimpers roared through the office’s enclosure. he felt dizzy, drunk within the lust that spewed between you both. it was pitiful but cute— losing all forms of self just to hump on your shoe.

grasping his jaw, he looked up at you, eyebrows knitted in pleasure as his hair bounced in movement, leaning down the gather spit, letting it fall into his opened mouth. he drank it instantaneously, nodding at the new action he had never done before. your spit tasted sweet, filling his mouth with an extended tongue in need of more.

and so you did, this time more forceful, some falling at the side of his lip, falling down his jaw and chin.

something about how he acted, the way he presented himself and the way his nervousness wore him so brightly. you could hear it his voice, in his moans, see in his eyes, face and body— nothing he had in display for you showed you otherwise. cupping the side of his face as your thumb gently stroked the warmth of his cheek, making his cock jump more than it already had.

“you like that don’t you baby?”

“uh huh…” he breathed, frantically nodding, letting his eyes drape towards your lips, seeing his tongue peak through, pressing your thumb at his plush lips, dragging them loosely, until his lips would tug, allowing his teeth to peak through before leaning in closer to his until being inches apart— irregular breathing brush against your mouth, as his nose nudges gently the side of yours, kissing you roughly… wet and raw. more spit escaping, coating all over.

“can i…” he spoke in between, “can i taste you?”

and with an accepting moan, his body rose, grabbing you until you sat on his desk, the light of his computer now black and the moon being the only source of light.

opening your legs, he leaned in, his middle finger ran between your clothed, wet slit. raising his head, he looked down at you, “holy fuck… how’re you so wet? i can feel it through your pants,” he taunted, gaining a small glint of confidence.

he lifted your shirt once more, just enough to show your full stomach as he held onto your waist, pressing his lips right beneath your breast, leaving slow, teasing kisses down your body with his eyes staring right up at you. his face met up in between, spreading your thighs apart more as he let his face set right in center, pressing his nose right in the indention where his finger once was, inhaling your sweet smell before rolling his tongue over her clothed pussy. “your pussy smells so sweet.” he breathed, his fingers curling at your pants and yanking them down until you were only left with them puddled at your feet and panties hugging your waist.

his mouth latched onto your clit, slowly sucking you right over your panties, feeling your throbbing bud feather against his tongue.

sliding your panties to the side, he saw the wetness connect from your pussy lips, to your clit, running all down your slit, immediately spreading your lips apart, seeing your whole view.

“so… pretty... god i wanna fuck it with my tongue. have my tongue so deep inside you, i can feel you clench yourself. can i… can i do that?” his eyes not leaving your face, seeing the limited and minimal expression the moon’s light allowed him to see, letting his tongue run up your slit as his mouth latches on.

nothing felt more pleasurable than to see the other pleased. his fingers trembled and ached to take you all in one go, but he believed you deserved more than that, you deserved to feel it run through every inch of your body. he wanted to prove that there’s levels you could reach that’ll make you feel like ecstasy.

his body burned as if he was on fire, feeling himself twitch at every small sound that exuded from your throat. “your voice, it turns me on so fucking much...” gripping onto your thighs, his nose nudging at your clit, mouth hovering over your cunt, drawing ribbons at the entrance of your pussy. he shook his head from side to side, your sweet scent filling his airway as he felt your slick coat the sides of his lips and the tip of his nose.

his tongue plunging itself into you, feeling your cunt pulsate alongside the bud of your clit. as his tongue worked along your slit and hole, repeatedly lapping at each entrance with the flat of their tongue. your scent and flavor enveloping his entire face, like a drug, and erotic perfume that he’d gladly wear if possible. his eyes drooping into a squint, his body loosening— expect the core of his tightening abdomen from holding his breath and their increasingly hard cock. thrusting his face as he began to fuck you with his tongue, hollowing his cheeks, continuing to pay close attention to your clit. pulling back, he licked his lips, gathering spit as he spat right on your cunt, followed by a little slap, rubbing with the palm of his hand against the new tingling sensation, “was that… was that too much?” he slurred, not thinking of the impact of what he had just done with the pleasured yelp you let out.

“you’re such a dirty boy…” you laughed, your hips breaking down as it planted itself more into his desk. “keep going… show me what a horny little thing like you thinks about while you touch yourself.”

drunk of you— the taste, the smell, he could feel a pit of sensation fuel right at the bottom of his abdomen. “hump my face baby, please…use me.”

with his tongue, he lifted your clitoral hood, centering his tongue right at your clit as he fluttered it as fast as his tongue allowed him too, feeling your expose bud jolt. using his other hand, he slid one finger in, curling it slightly as he slowly let it slide in and out, feeling your walls close. the sounds you let out couldn’t be controlled, admiring how he used your body like an art piece, finding his way to use every fragment of your being, getting off to your pleasure. each knuckle falling deeper, as he started to bring up his pace. so wet, you could hear it at each pump, and god did that turn him on. “listen to your pussy baby. my god you’re so wet..”

loving the feeling of your fingers that now laced in his hair, tugging at it whenever you felt so, feeling the tingle wash from down his scalp and spine, making him groan deeply against your, feeling it almost itch his own throat. his other hand pressing firmly against your stomach, rolling it up your body as he dragged the pads of his fingers down your torso, then thigh, letting them create small indentions in your smooth skin.

he watched as you squirmed as you watched how pathetically invested he looked hooked in pleasure— him yearning for this type of attention, as if he cried for it. his eyes begged and begged, his actions looking less and less sense and out of touch of reality. your hips, not having a rhythmic move to them, just rolling and humping as his face kept up with your sloppy hips.

he slide one more finger inside, curling that one as well as his others as he turned his wrist in a circular motion, almost drilling your cunt, pushing it in and out, trying to find your sweet spot. he lifted his head, letting a string of spit and slick connect from his lips and your pussy. “keep looking at me… please don’t stop.” the sting burning at his forearm— veins now prominent running from his fingers and down wrist. your pussy making the most loudest and obnoxious noise, syncing with the pacing of his hand and mouth.

his face traveled up, his face now hovering yours, paying close attention to your expression and the way you moaned for him, furrowing his eyebrows, “yeah? does it feel good right there?” he cooed, singing with your moans which filled the space that surrounded you both. he gathered spit in his mouth once more, letting it go straight into your mouth— your hand out of his hair and to his face, holding his jaw and feeling the grooves of his teeth by how hard you held it.

“god you’re so good for me.” you grunted, eyes almost rolling at the feeling of his fingers plunging at your cunt.

gritting through his teeth, “and you drive me insane…” pressing his mouth against yours once more as he started to sloppily kiss you— your slick already coating his mouth and tip of his nose, now swallowing your moans. his breathing was erratic and his demeanor changed, feeling a sense of lustful malice grow in his body.

hurriedly, you undid his pants, slipping your hand in his underwear, taking out his hot heavy cock, his body immediately reacting with his hand holding the desk beside you for support. without hesitation, you jerked his cock, finding the same speed of his plunging fingers.

shared and eager moans radiated from you both, whiny and pathetic, desperate and conjoined— the sweet sounds of your wet slick and his skin being tugged at his cock.

“don’t stop.” he strained, already feeling himself in need to release, never being one to last longer than he wished to.

spit dripping from one another’s mouths, the tension continued to rise, the familiar sensation cradling at your core as well as his. clenching around his fingers, your thighs started to close themselves, him quickly opening them as he breathed in a choked gasp.

“are you gonna cum for me?” you teased, knowing you were right where he was, his body twitching as he nodded in response, “cum for me… do it james.”

a loud groan crept as he removed your hand, replacing it with his as he jerked his cock in a speed you had never seen from another man, directing his slit right at your clit. spurts of his cum fell right at your clit, the sight being too much for you to handle— the head from it, sliding down to his fingers as he continued his hungered pumps, an orgasm ringing around it. it creamed thickly, white cuddling at his knuckles.

both of your bodies fell weak, the speed now resting slow as you tried to gather your breaths, eyes connecting as one as you recollected all the passion that infiltrated.

“my god…” you breathed, his fingers coating in your natural nectar and his cum, inhaling your womanly scent which sent waves of pleasure directly towards his cock that started to rise again. god… did he love the way your fucking pussy smelt. it didn’t compare to your handkerchief… your bed… even your used panties. his fingers slipping out as he placed them in his mouth, each finger being sucked clean. “you’re so fucking hot…”

the intensity that fueled you both was too much to comprehend. no words being able to be spoken— james blinded by the beauty and the smell of sex that fumed in the air. after all the days of him tugging his cock, the thoughts became real.

his face hovered yours, hands cupping your cheeks as he pressed gentle kisses across your lips, “can i...” he gasped in between each kiss, heavy air pushing through his nostrils as he tried desperately not to pass out from the adrenaline and the need to feel you, overwhelm you and just make you cum from his dick. “can i fuck you…? please… please… please please please please please…” his voice cracking in between.

the need that laced in your whine transmitted through the thick of his burning skin. it was hard to contain steady breathing. mine, he thought. you were all his for the night, and it signified that you were in this very moment.

lips feathering against your chin, each kiss longer than the last, with his nose nudging up into your cheek. just from the quiet sounds you let out, your consent, your ‘okay’ to put his dick inside of you made the way he felt more intense than it already had. his fingers wrapping around the start of his shaft as he started to pump himself.

“you can tell me if you want me to fuck you slow…” he continued, cupping his hand to his lips and spitting in it, making a small puddle to coat his dick. “or if you want me to fuck you fast… tell me… tell me to keep fucking you… tell me… just talk for me… please.”

his eyes jolted down as his cock angled itself right at your opening pushing himself inside. just half of what would be his tip, focused only on you. sucking in harshly at how big he was and how he wasn’t even all the way in. with his other hand cupping the side of your face and neck, his thumb rubbing gently.

“you okay baby…?” his attention still on you, analyzing each expression you gave to make sure that he wasn’t hurting you in any shape or form, pressing a long kiss at the side of your cheek beside your ear, “im going to keep going okay…? just breathe for me…”

they pushed more, his tip fully being in your cunt. his body shuttered… you were so warm, you were tight and held him so comfortably, if you wanted him to stop right there, it’d be enough for him to cum. anything for you was enough for him. bodies slowly enveloping on another as he tried to talk to your body in a way that gave you comfort and pleasure. “more?” he breathed, it hitching as he mindlessly held his breath, pushing more of himself into you— your hot walls holding around the start of his shaft, textured and wet, with a heartbeat that almost felt as if you were sucking him in without his go.

a pornographic moan being spewed from james’ lips. the way your cunt grasped onto him, it's textured walls massaging his cock into heaven. you felt full, his dick thick— leaning towards girth— your breathing picking up in pace. you molded his cock perfectly, his hips slowly pressing himself deeper until his hole cock was enveloped in you. "goo...good boy." you tried to praise, hiccuping as your hands fell onto his shoulders.

the thrust started off slow, hiccuping almost similar to his rut against your shoe. it took a few thrusts until he finally was able to find himself— barely. each inward thrust, the desk shook, your body sliding upwards against his paperwork that scattered and crumpled.

“is this… is this okay?” his voice broken, hearing the new diction in his tone.

“faster… don’t be shy…”

you didn’t have to tell him twice, his hips momentarily stopping as he planted his feet firmly on the ground— animalistic groans combating the way his hips started to snap. each thrust, your rear puckering hole was abused by james’ balls. again and again, the loud rhythmic sound of your skin slapping. "good boy, keep fucking me. make me cum."

the tip of his dick angling in a place you were unsure about. what was this? you thought. your body was excited and you didn't know why— you didn't know how to prepare yourself. your body unable to stay still or find a place where you felt the best in stabilization, screaming his name as he finally hit that spot, your good spot.

"don't stop! don't stop! don't stop! don't—" you chanted, him hitting your g spot over and over with your pussy sucking him in deeper and deeper at each outward thrust.

"i wish i fucked you sooner, why does this feel so good?!" already having the need to cum with no intention of holding it.

you as well. you needed to cum, but you felt something new as well. the similarly feeling of you needed to 'go'.

"waitwaitwaitwait!!!" you moaned out loud, his cock slipping out with an unexpected gift being brought to both of you. you squirted. it spilling from your cunt and drenching on the both of you— your face, his work clothes and your work clothes. you had no time to react, your legs violently shook, with james hurriedly slipping in again with the same need to release centering at the opening of your cunt.

"ineeedto... i... fuhhhcking" you slurred, eyes rolling each time james pulled out, your pussy let out small spurts of your squirting cum.

"that is so fucking hot... you're so hot." james cried, tears rimming in his eyes, feeling himself having the need to cum.

one leg wrapped his waist pushing him down, rolling your hips upward even though it was all too much, but your cunt wanted more, it felt like it could cum at least one more time. grabbing your face, your lips forming a squished 'o'.

"fuck...fucking good boy." your voice fucked out.

"it feels too good… i can’t take it." he continued to wail, tears started to stream down his face. "im gonna—" he announced with one finally thrust, james let his hot load rest deep inside you.

one could say his dream was now complete, but a new question shall be asked; how will this continue? from being ‘friends’, horny individuals to fuck at work. but for now, you both continued to calm down from your high, kissing each other sweetly.

“this won’t be the last time.” you smiled triumphantly, trying to catch your breath.

a/n: i never know how to end these… but maybe there will be another part…

[missadangel]

The Heart of Rome (Marcus Acacius x OC)

All Chapters List

IX. The Rage (+18, Smut, MDNI)

GIF -- manny-jacinto

"Aut inveniam viam aut faciam.”

I shall either find a way or make one.

H.

“Can I just ask where we're going so early?” You asked Marcus that morning.

“Patience, my lady."

After you woke up, while you were lying on the bed, resting your head on his chest, he told you that he had something he wanted to show you, before you had even had a chance to eat breakfast. You were even more surprised when Marcus grabbed your hand and pulled you out of the courtyard of the villa, towards the stables. The slaves were feeding the horses their morning meal, and the horses were consuming their food with growls and much appetite. It was breakfast time for the chickens in the hen house as well. Decima was feeding them, saw you from a distance, ceased her work and bowed to you. You could tell from her smile that she was aware of everything that was going on. You noticed that you had never set foot on this side of the villa before. The General had specifically instructed them not to tire you out when you were here as his slave, so you had never had any work to do out here. You smiled as you recalling those times. Remembering, how you had shied away from him at first, but then how you had fallen in love with him as you came to know his softer side day by day.

A slave brought Marcus's horse Dromos from the stables, and Marcus grabbed his reins with a big, beaming smile. Dromos whinnied, and Marcus stroked his face, chuckling. There was a special bond between them that went beyond the typical horse-and-rider relationship. While you were admiring them, Marcus looked at you, pulled the reins, and stepped towards you, holding his hand out warmly.

"My lady, I believe you remember Dromos."

"Indeed I do, how are you Dromos?" You took Marcus's hand and stroked the horse's neck with the other.

He lifted one leg and stamped his hoof and whinnied. You smiled, his warm furry skin was soothing.

"It seems he missed you." Marcus smiled and then looked at something behind you. "Now, we've got some riding to do," he said, straightening Dromos' saddle.

You nodded and approached the horse, but Marcus gently touched your arm to stop you. You looked at him in surprise. He looked at the other side of the stables and pointed with his finger.

‘Your horse is over there,’ he said.

You turned your head slightly and saw Cato first. He was making his way towards you with a horse that was particularly striking, with white hair that shone like satin in the sunlight. The horse lifted its head and let out a soft whinny as its white mane blew gently in the breeze. As it drew closer, its gaze turned towards you, and you were struck by its undeniable beauty. Although you were not particularly knowledgeable about horses, you could say that this snow-white animal was not your typical equine. It seemed to have been meticulously selected. With some hesitation, you reached out and gently stroked the horse's neck, running your fingers through its lustrous pearl-white mane. There was a captivating elegance in this magnificent creature.

“She's beautiful,” you murmured.

“A rare one, just like my beautiful wife,” Marcus said, his eyes meeting yours as he approached. He was smiling warmly. He put his fingers right next to yours. The white horse lifted one of its hind legs, hit it on the ground, and moved a little as if it wanted you to ride on it.

“Bridal gift for you, I didn't have a chance to introduce you two before. Are you pleased?”

You gazed at him and found yourself once more swept up in your feelings for him. His charms were undeniable. With each passing day, your love for him deepens. You wondered how he managed to make you feel this way.

“Marcus, this is the best gift I've ever received in my life. I am immensely grateful." You wrapped your arms around his waist and rested your head on his chest. He put his arms around you.

“I am more grateful, my love." He gave you a little kiss on the top of your head. “Besides, you need to learn to ride by yourself.” He stroked your hair with his fingers. “Do you feel ready to ride together with me?”

You nodded, “Yes, but I'm not that good. I only rode once or twice back then in Egypt.”

“You'll learn in time. Now I want you to place your foot in the stirrup and mount by yourself. Can you do it?”

You put your foot in the stirrup as he said and looked at him. The horse moved a little, which made you stagger.

"Just make sure it's firm, then grab the saddle and climb up."

You grabbed the saddle and pulled yourself up as hard as you could, then settled down. However, the horse moved and you leaned forward to grasp the reins, your head close to her mane, feeling the wind on your cheeks. You probably looked a bit strange.

Marcus let out a chuckle. “Make sure you're sitting up straight and in control. Keep a firm grip on the reins.”

“But, she’s moving too much, she's not staying still, I'm afraid of falling.” You complained.

“Then you need to calm her down. Give her a gentle pat on the neck with your hand and reassure her by gripping the reins firmly. She needs to know you're in control.”

When you did as he said, you saw that the horse had calmed down, so you gathered your courage, sat up straight, grabbed the reins with both hands and gave them a little tug. It felt great to be in control, and you smiled at Marcus.

"I did it!"

"You haven't even started riding yet, princess."

Your smile faded. "Oh, right. How am I supposed to do that?"

Marcus laughed. "Gently squeeze the horse's ribcage with the calves of your legs to cue her to move forward.”

Your body tensed up a bit as the horse moved forward, but you quickly regained your composure and excitement replaced your fear. It was a great feeling. The horse kept on going, so you turned your head to look at him, but Marcus was already mounted on his horse and came towards you.

“Well done, my lady.” He smirked. “Come now, pick up the pace, follow my lead,” Marcus gripped the reins tighter and gave Dromos a little pat on the rump, and the horse started to gallop. As the distance between you and Marcus increased, you did the same, and with the sudden burst of speed, you swayed, your heart pounding. The wind was blowing your hair and caressing your face, which felt amazing.

“Marcus! Wait for me!" You called out to him, and he looked back at you with that childish smile on his face. It was clear he was enjoying himself, and you were no exception. You felt the same sense of exhilaration riding with him. There is no feeling in the world that can compare to the freedom you experience when traveling on horseback through the trees.

"My Lady! We're nearly there!" Marcus pointed up the hill a little later. Since you had learned to control it, you pulled the reins in the direction you wanted to go and stroked her belly a little and she immediately fulfilled your wishes. You smiled, pleased with yourself. As if you had won a victory. Marcus slowed his horse and circled the area he had indicated, waiting for you. You pulled the reins firmly and your horse neighed, lifted its legs slightly, and stopped. Marcus looked satisfied.

“You are a quick learner, princess.” He said, dismounting and leading Dromos to a nearby tree.

“I think she likes me too,” you said, sliding your leg over her back to dismount and jumping down.

“Would you perhaps like to name her?” Marcus stepped towards you.

“Yes, I was thinking, um. Since she’s so pure and white, I'd like to call her Unio (pearl).”

He nodded. “Clever, well suited,” He then grabbed Unio's reins and tied them to the same tree.

You became aware of the river at the bottom of the hill. It was the Tiber. Just ahead, you could discern the silhouette of the great city, which appeared to be quite beautiful. Also, It was a delight to behold the enormous structure from a distance once more, as you set foot on the very ground from which you had previously observed it from the balcony of the Domus Severiana.

Marcus approached behind you and wrapped his arms around you, placing his head on your shoulder.

“This is where I come every night and think of you looking up there.”

You turned your head towards him. He was pointing to the Domus Severiana.

“Every night?”

“That's true.’ His lips hovered over your cheekbone, his eyelashes caressed your forehead.

“So was I, looking out from the balcony, trying to make out the villa in the distance and thinking of you.”

He smiled mischievously as he brought his lips closer to yours. “Were you thinking about that blissful night we had too? Those intense moments? Did you desire me as much as I desired you?” He purred, tightened his arms just below your breasts, and pushed them slowly upwards.

Your cheeks flushed and you slapped his shoulder. "Marcus." You whined.

"There's no need to feel ashamed, my love," he said pressing his lips to yours and kissing them lovingly. Then he pulled back. "You must be hungry," he said, taking you by the shoulders and guiding you to sit among the flowers in the meadow. As you looked at him curiously, he turned around and walked back to his horse. He opened the saddlebag. Then stepped towards you with a bundle in his hand.

“Have you brought breakfast for us?” You shot him a look. He sat down next to you, undid the bundle's knot, and took out a loaf of bread and some fruit.

“I told them to prepare it yesterday. Come, have some, you need strength.” He fed you a piece of bread. Then he put his arm around you.

“What do I need strength for?”

“For your training.’’

You swallowed your bite and frowned. “Training?”

He smiled, “Yes."

“So you're pretty adamant about this?”

“I am.” His look was determined indeed.

Once you had eaten enough, Marcus took you by the hand and lifted you up.

"I had something made for you," he said, reaching for the holster on his waist.

"Another present?"

Marcus was holding a scabbard, but it was smaller than a pugio. He crouched down beside you. You flinched when he lifted the hem of your dress and touched your leg.

“What are you doing?” You tried to pull your leg back, but his hand was so strong you couldn't even move it.

“Stay still.” He was tying it a little above your ankle. It was strange to feel the leather fabric on your skin. You moved your leg as Marcus stood up after finishing. You lifted the hem of your dress to observe the scabbard. It wasn't particularly heavy, but it was a little uncomfortable. Seemed like an irrelevant accessory on your ankle.

“Is that a dagger?” You wailed.

“Not exactly, a small knife. I thought you could use it until we get to pugio.”

You lifted and lowered your leg, it was a strange feeling.

“Try pulling it out of its sheath.” His voice was almost commanding.

Marcus the romantic was gone and Acacius the General was here.

You did as he said, grasped the handle of the dagger, and pulled it out of its sheath, a little slowly. Why was it so difficult?

Marcus put both hands on his waist. “Do you think your enemy will wait for you to draw your knife?”

You rolled your eyes. “I'm a medicus, remember? Are you telling me to cut people with this?”

“Cut if you have to, then cure if you wish.” He said with a stubborn temperament.

You laughed, but he didn't. Wasn't it a joke?

“Now hold it out and attack me.”

You opened your eyes wide. “What? Marcus, I can’t.”

“I said do it, Aurelia.”

“What if I hurt you?”

Marcus let out a little laugh, a hint of smugness in his voice. “Don't worry, my lady. You couldn't hurt me even if you wanted to. But you need to learn how to use your knife. Now, attack.”

You did as he said and lunged forward, holding the knife with one hand and making a slashing motion.

He rolled his eyes. “Strike with more power, think of it as having all your strength in your arm.”

You nodded and tried again. Marcus was not satisfied, and inhaled deeply. “The advantage of a short, small knife is that you can change direction more quickly.” He said and grabbed your hand holding the knife and supported your shoulder from behind with his other hand. “But if you have a target to focus on, you should do it like this.” He said and made your knife-holding hand make a fast-forward attack that almost made you stumble. “Like this.” Then he had you take the knife in your other hand. "Then this way." He had you make another attack, this time with a fast-cutting motion. “One, two, three.” Then he had you make a stabbing attack, and he tugged your wrist forward, but his wrist was so strong you stumbled again. Then he stepped back and stood in front of you, spreading his arms. “Now try to attack me once more.”

You raised your arm with determination, but also a hint of hesitation, to attack him. However, he was quick to evade your attack with ease, and you found yourself almost colliding with a nearby tree. You took a moment to collect yourself and then turned to face him.

“Try attacking again.” He said decisively.

This time you lunged at him with all your determination, but he grabbed your wrist and spun you around, almost without moving, and before you knew it, he pulled you towards him, your back slamming into his chest, your knife right next to your neck. His hand was gripping your wrist so tightly it was impossible to move it. You felt his lips on your head, you tried to get out of his arms but he wouldn't let you. “Try a little harder, princess,” he murmured and released you. Then he faced you again, his expression serious as he looked down at your legs.

“Spread your legs properly.” He ordered.

You obey.

“Suck your stomach.”

You breathed deeply and tried to stand up straight.

“Now try it again.”

You did the cutting motions he had just shown you, but for some reason, he still wasn't satisfied. He closed his eyelids tightly and sighed deeply. 

“Why is this so hard,” he muttered. He came over and snatched the knife from your hand and stepped backward. "Watch, how I do it."

He held the knife ready for the attack and skilfully made the same slashing motions as before, coming up beside you. "Do it like this."

His expression was so serious you couldn't help but chuckle.

"Spread your legs, suck your stomach, do it like this," you said, imitating his voice and movements. As you laughed again, his expression softened and he began laughing too.

“You found it quite funny, my lady?”

You were still laughing. “Yes, it was very funny.”

He grinned and extended his hand to you. " I think that's enough for today. Could you lift your dress up so I can put it back."

You took a step backward. "No way, I don't want that sharp thing on my leg." You said it in a slightly joking tone.

He narrowed his eyes and took a step towards you. You took another step back in response.

"I said lift your dress up." His voice was stern and commanding, but his expression was mocking.

‘What if I don't?’ You took a few more steps backward as he was coming towards you.

"Then I'll have to force you to do it."

“Try,” you said, turning on your heel and striding off with a laugh.

Marcus grinned. “As if I can't catch you easily,” he said and started running after you. As you ran as fast as you could across the meadow, he was chasing you.

“You must surrender before you trip and fall, Aurelia!” His voice echoed across the meadow.

"No way, General!" You continued to run, this time you turned the other way, but Marcus was faster. He grabbed you from behind with his strong arms and you giggled and struggled with all your strength. He deliberately let you both fall, and you rolled among the flowers in the meadow. One more roll, you were lying on the ground with Marcus on top of you, gasping for breath. You looked up at him and saw that he was laughing as you were. "I told you I'd find you wherever you ran, my lady," he said and bent his head down and kissed you passionately. You wrapped your arms around his neck and ran your fingers through his hair as Marcus' hand grazed the fabric of your dress sliding it up your leg. You broke the kiss and looked at him in surprise.

"What are you-"

"Easy," he said, and he grabbed your leg, lifted it up, and sheathed the knife. Then he kissed your knee and looked at you.

"Promise me you'll carry this knife when I'm not around." His expression was stern, the kind you couldn't argue with.

You nodded. “I promise.”

He uttered a soft, tender murmur as his fingers stroked your hair. "I truly hope that you never have to use it." Then he kissed you again, with greater intensity this time, conveying the emotion he was feeling to you through his lips. All of sudden, you heard the sound of a pipe echoing in the distance, and he broke the kiss. It seemed to you that the sound of the drums and pipes preceded the public announcement. You both turned your heads in that direction, it sounded more like a murmur through the meadow.

“It must be almost time for the game to start,” Marcus muttered.

You let out a sigh. “I really don't want to go,” you whined, glancing at the silhouette of the Colosseum.

Marcus turned his head towards you and helped you sit down. “I don't want to provide Caracalla with another reason to summon you.”

“You're right, I think I can bear it with you by my side,” you said, brushing his hair with your fingers to remove grass particles.

He leaned down and kissed your forehead. “As long as I'm with you, you don't have to worry about anything, my love.”

You nodded. Then he stood up and held out his hand to you. “We should head home and prepare to get going.”

As you and Marcus were traveling to the Colosseum, the crowds were gathering in that direction. There was a great deal of discussion about Gaius and his treachery. You could hear people talking about him and his fate with great enthusiasm. The carriage stopped in front of the stairs, and you and Marcus got out. As you ascended the stairs together, those who recognised you greeted you, and you responded by saluting them with a raised hand. The members of the Senate were also making their way up the stairs at a brisk pace, each of them turning around to greet you with a kind smile. It would be fair to say that you were the most talked about married couple in Rome. While holding Marcus' hand, you made your way to the imperial tribune together, where you observed that Geta and Caracalla had already arrived and taken their seats. Caracalla gave you a brief glance and turned his attention back to the arena. He and Marcus exchanged glances as Geta stood up and waited for you to sit next to him. Marcus greeted them and moved to sit next to your seat. However, as soon as he pulled you close, Geta reached out and hugged you, but Marcus was determined to keep hold of your hand. You found yourself stumbled between the two of them.

“Sister, you're here.” He looked at Marcus's hand gripping yours and grinned. “Come now, take a seat, it's almost time.”

Marcus's expression was stern as he pulled you close, made sure you sat down and then settled down next to you. He had no intention of letting go of your hand, and you were perfectly comfortable with it. Geta turned around and called Macrinus, who had just arrived. For some reason he looked happy. You didn't like it. His usual cheerful mood usually puts you in a tense one. Marcus probably felt the same. He bowed to you and took his seat. Geta and Caracalla seemed to be in high spirits and excited as usual, probably because it was their favourite moment. They stood up, and greeted the crowd as the announcer announced the game. Then stepped back and took their seats. Geta leaned towards you. “Ready to see the tigers, sister?”

You pouted your lips and shrugged your shoulders.

“I'm so thrilled. Look, my palms are all sweaty.” He showed you his palms with a wide smile, you pressed your lips together, trying to suppress a laugh.

“Good for you,” you said sarcastically. "I do wonder, though, if all this preparation is really for the purpose of making our cousin lunch for the tigers.”

Geta laughed. “No, that would be sooo boring. Macrinus has brought new gladiators, you will see them soon. Today's games will be slightly different from the others. It has been a while since we have seen warriors fighting dangerous animals.”

‘Gaius isn't a warrior,’ you muttered.

‘No, he's just a bait. Here we gooo,’ he said with clapping his hands, as the drums began to beat. The announcer threw up his arms and the crowd fell silent.

“People of Rooome! Who do you cheer for? The barbarian warriors who have come here today, risking their lives, are they worthy of your praise? Or do you cheer for the fearless gladiators who have embraced death? Or do you cheer for the fierce, dangerous tigers?”

The crowd roared, their voices growing louder with each mention of the tigers.

“Or for the execution of a traitor? The day of judgment has come. Our Emperors and yours must pass judgment on this traitor!”

The crowd was now cheering loudly in approval. One of the iron gates opened and Gaius was forced into the arena by the guards, who prodded him with spears. Geta stood up and gestured to one of the guards. The guard handed him a pugio. Then Geta called out to Gaius, "Hey, Gaius the traitor, take this. I don't want it to end quickly!"

He hurled it down the bleachers at him. Caracalla immediately checked to see where it had fallen. "That fool will die before he gets to it," he said, laughing. And the other gates opened, accompanied by the beating of drums and the sound of trumpets.

The barbarians stormed the arena, five of them, some with shields and spears, others with crossbows. The crowd cheered with gusto, and Geta and Caracalla applauded. Then the gladiators entered the arena, three of them, with shields and swords, one of them wearing a galea (helmet). Geta and Caracalla clapped even louder. The gladiators gave their customary salute to the emperors and gathered among themselves. Gaius still hadn't got the pugio, and Caracalla gave him a lot of abuse. He was stuck between two groups of warriors, but he was determined to get to the pugio. It was going to be tough. In that dusty, sandy field, everyone was each other's enemy.

"Let it begin!" Caracalla shouted firmly. The drums beat louder and the crowd roared. Tension and Thriller filled the air. Marcus stroked your hand with his thumb and smiled at you. Then he swiftly turned his gaze to the game. You were curious as to why the tigers still hadn't appeared. Geta and Caracalla knew what they were doing. They must have a good plan. The barbarians and gladiators charged at Gaius simultaneously. Gaius was about to take the pugio when a trapdoor opened in the sandy ground and a huge tiger came roaring out of nowhere. Gaius jumped back, but in his fright, he lost his footing and fell to the ground.

“Oh, he'll die so soon.” Geta whined.

“He's boring, as usual.” Caracalla agreed.

They laughed together.

The gladiators reached Gaius first and pulled him back. You looked at Geta. He winked at you, "I told you. Different kind of fight."

Marcus leaned in close to your ear. “Part of the game,” he explained.

It didn't take long to see how dangerous a game this was. While the barbarians and gladiators fought each other, Gaius was played like a toy right in the centre. One of the two groups of warriors was going to throw him to the tigers, but not before giving him a good thrashing on the sandy ground. As soon as the other tiger emerged from the subterranean floor onto the sandy ground directly opposite the other, the barbarians turned on the gladiators. One of them kicked one of the gladiators and plunged his sword into his neck, blood gushing from his throat and splattering the sandy floor like wine red. The violence was overwhelming. You would never get used to this. Gaius tried to run away, taking advantage of the clash of the two groups, but one of the barbarians kicked him in the thigh and pushed him into a tiger. Geta jumped to his feet, and Caracalla had already run to the balustrade.

"Eat him!" Geta clapped his hands excitedly.

Caracalla laughed loudly and madly.

You closed your eyes and squeezed your eyelids tight. The crowd was clearly excited and your half-brothers were shouting with joy. It was obvious that the tiger was eating his lunch. Marcus took your hand in both of his and stroked it. You were grateful he was there because you would have fainted at the sight of this savagery.

“Did you hear his bones crunching?” Geta looked at you and laughed.

When you rolled your eyes, he twisted his lips. "Come now, sister, didn't you watch Gaius' vile body crumble between that animal’s teeth?"

“I think I've seen enough,” you muttered.

“I'm sure you enjoyed it too, you hide it well though.” Caracalla grinned.

You forced a smile in response.

“What do you reckon? Two gladiators left.” Geta asked him.

'The barbarians don't stand a chance.’

“Hmm. I'd like to hear your opinion, Acacius.” Geta demanded.

You three turned your heads to Marcus.

“I agree with Emperor Caracalla. These barbarians are attacking recklessly and without thinking.” He answered without looking at him. His eyes were fixed on the gladiators, and you found yourself wondering what he was thinking.

After a while, when the barbarians were down to two, you realised Marcus was right.

“Aaaahh, two on two! Thrilling!” Geta clapped his hands excitedly.

“I told you, the gladiators will take them easily.”

“The game's not over yet, brother.”

Indeed it wasn't, as the tigers struggled to break free from their chains, the barbarians, seeing an opportunity, took advantage of the tigers as hiding behind them to launch an attack on the gladiators with bolts, hitting one in the arm. However, this was a risky move, tigers, despite being bound by thick iron chains, retained a great deal of mobility. One of the gladiators, wearing a galea, managed to remove the bolt from his arm and picked up his spear, which he then threw at one of the tigers. The spear pierced the animal's throat with a single thrust, and it collapsed with a great groan of pain. You felt your chest hurt. Despite it is a deadly predator, it was an animal torn from its natural environment and was forced to fight there.

Geta pursed his lips, “I can't believe how you died so easily, you stupid animal.”

“There's still one left, brother.”

You found their conversation somewhat callous and wished for the game to end soon. You felt a longing to leave this place and return home with your husband.

The gladiator made a swift and decisive move, leaping from the lifeless body of the tiger and engaging in a sword fight with the barbarian. The other tiger let out a roar that echoed throughout the arena, accompanied by the sounds of the clash. As the other two of them fought each other, the tiger touched its claw lightly on the other gladiator's leg, but it was enough to cause significant injury. The man staggered backwards, the pain intense and shocking, and before he could recover, the other barbarian slashed his neck with his sword. The tiger lunged at him, but the chain and soldiers holding him down prevented him from attacking. Geta narrowed his eyes.

“Aaah, now it's two on one!”

“I knew it!” Caracalla clapped his hands in excitement.

The gladiator did not hesitate to engage with the barbarians, swiftly cutting the other one's arm before they could bring their sword down on him. This move seemed familiar to you for a reason. Marcus muttered something, and you knew he was thinking the same as you. You weren't trying to learn something about fighting. You had seen this gladiator fight before. You looked at Geta and Caracalla, then at Macrinus. He smiled meaningfully at you. That was him, that gladiator. The gladiator who injured Marcus' arm in a fight with him last time, and whose life was spared by him. But why?

Marcus muttered, "His movements have improved, but he still doesn't have enough use of his wrist.'

"Why is he here to fight again?"

Marcus looked at you. "There are many answers to that, my guess is rage.”

‘Rage?’

He fixed his gaze on the gladiator who had vanquished one of the barbarians, intensifying the fervour of the crowd. “His eyes are filled with nothing but rage. He battles using it, and when he triumphs, he believes it is because he is strong. However, it hinders his ability to think rationally, and it appears that defeat has made him even more relentless. This is indisputable proof that he is not basing his actions on logic.”

He turned his head back to him and saw that the gladiator had cut down the last barbarian. The crowd was whistling and cheering him on as he raised his arms. Geta and Caracalla were also applauding. Caracalla raised his arms. "And here is our champion! Take off that galea so we can see your face!”

The gladiator obeyed and removed his galea. He was looking at Marcus as he greeted you all. That made you feel very uncomfortable. Marcus squinted at him.

“What a fight.” Geta took his seat, and Caracalla sat next to him.

“This is the part I hate the most, the moment when the fight ends.” Caracalla mumbled.

“You're joining the banquet tonight, aren't you?” Geta asked you.

And you were just about to answer him when, in the blink of an eye, a bolt came out of nowhere and stuck between you and Marcus, just through his seat. You felt your heart leap into your throat. It was so close to you that you could almost hear the sound of it swooshing. While Geta and Caracalla let out screams of panic, Marcus flinched backward. First, his brown eyes locked on you, and then he turned his gaze in the direction of the bolt. You just held your breath, still in shock. Marcus was filled with an incredible rage, jumped to his feet. You pulled yourself together and turned in the direction he was facing. Geta grabbed your shoulders.

“Sister! Are you alright?”

You nodded, your eyes fixed on Marcus. The gladiator was grinning down at you, crossbow in hand, as if trying to enrage Marcus even more. Geta and Caracalla stood up to look at him.

“As a champion, I challenge General Acacius!”

Caracalla burst out laughing. Geta clapped his hands and turned to Marcus.

“You should have killed him last time, Acacius.”

Marcus locked eyes with him, and you could have sworn he'd killed him so many times with his deadly gaze. You gripped his hand in both of yours.

He already knew what you were going to say. He turned to you, his eyes sharp and unblinking. “I'll tear him to pieces.”

“We support you, General Acacius!” Geta cheered.

“You must learn to speak for yourself,” Caracalla complained.

You ignored them, your eyes locked on Marcus'. All your tormenting fears had returned.

“Aren't you going to punish him? That bolt could have hit me or you!” You said Geta.

“He knew exactly where he was shooting it, my sister,” Caracalla said arrogantly.

Geta shook his head. “He challenged the General, and being a man of honor, he must fight. Please make sure you kill him this time, won't you?”

As the crowd watched the General with curious murmurs, you were looking at him with teary eyes. He had already reached a decision at the moment the bolt pierced his seat. He withdrew his hand from between yours, removed the bolt with some force, and approached the balustrade, raising his hand and regarding the gladiator.

"I, Marcus Acacius, accept your challenge." He raised his hand. "I shall ensure that you regret shooting this!"

As the crowd began to cheer wildly, you could feel your heart pounding fast. As Marcus turned to face you and looked into your eyes for the last time, you decided to support him instead of being afraid. He needed it.

“You beat him once, I'm sure you'll beat him again, my love.”

His brown eyes sparkled as he heard those words coming from your mouth, bringing your hand to his lips and kissing it.

"I will, my lady." He smiled and strode out, passing between the senators' seats and heading down to the lowest level of the Colosseum. Macrinus and you locked eyes as you looked him up and down with a look of pure defiance on your face. He was smiling at you with that disturbing smile, you squinted at him. You were almost certain he had planned this on purpose. Geta put his arm around you and sat you down.

“Oh, it's going to be so exciting. He's going to kill him for sure this time. The tension is so high!”

“But this time a tiger is there too,” Caracalla said.

“So? The general has fought with animals before. He even cut the lion in two in front of our eyes. I'm sure he'll be able to beat the tiger too,” Geta winked at your worried face.

“Really?” You asked curiously, you heard that before but thought it was just a rumor.

Geta chuckled, “I wish you were here with us to witness that moment, sister. It was quite something.”

“I have absolutely no regrets brother.” You hissed. After all, you never would want to see Marcus before a lion.

Your eyes moved between the tiger and the gladiator. While you were praying to Jupiter, the iron door swung open accompanied by drums. You and your brothers sprang to your feet. Marcus was in his armour and looking at the gladiator as he walked into the arena with his sword in hand. The crowd roared and ranged his name out. He went over to the gladiator and they both saluted the Emperors. You saw Marcus's half-smile and you smiled back in return. It was always tough seeing him there. The more fearlessly he fought, the more you worried. It was like a special kind of torture for you.

The game began on Geta's and Caracalla's commands, and you realised that your breathing was already becoming irregular. The gladiator with a smile, approached the tiger, Marcus followed at a distance, as if he understood what the gladiator was up to.The tiger roared, the gladiator made the first move, lunging towards Marcus with his blood-soaked sword in hand. It was a failed attempt; Marcus stepped aside. However, he managed to get a little closer to the tiger. Marcus took a step back as the animal let out a roar, and the gladiator swung a spear at him but missed. When you saw Marcus so close to the tiger, it made you feel so nervous.

The gladiator stepped back as Marcus walked over to him, looking angry. Even from a distance, you could tell what he was thinking. His sword gave off a faint glow as he thrust it at him. The gladiator fought back with his own sword. As the clash of swords echoed around the arena, the tiger moved in to attack them both. Marcus resisted with all his might as the gladiator thrust his sword repeatedly, pushing Marcus towards the tiger. The gladiator let out a growl and tried again, quickly, strongly and determinedly.

But this time, Marcus was more angry than ever. He couldn't stop thinking about the bolt that had been shot at him. In that short time, he didn't worried about himself, but worried about you. In his perspective, the bolt he'd shot had stuck in his seat, right next to you. This attack on him and his wife in his presence will not go unpunished. He was going to get revenge for sure, even if it meant he'd die in the end. Marcus roared and lunged forward with his sword, which glinted in the sunlight, driving it into the gladiator's chest. The man stumbled back but recovered quickly. If he hadn't been wearing his iron armor, he would have been cut in half. They just stared at each other for a while and then Marcus made the first move. He wanted to end this game as soon as possible and make sure his opponent was dead. He brought his sword down with all his might, screaming at him, but the man blocked his attack with his sword. They were making kind of animalistic sounds now, harmonised with the sound of the tiger. During the struggle, the gladiator resisted the General's deadly pressure. Then the urge to pull out his knife and plunge it into Marcus' exposed leg with a decisive and powerful thrust. Although Marcus had been expecting this, he was unable to prevent the knife from cutting him and let out a cry of pain. You leaped to your feet and screamed, covering your mouth with your hands. Geta and Caracalla leaned forward with excitement. You watched him rush towards Marcus, who fell to the ground. Without a moment's hesitation, he grabbed the sand and threw it at the tiger, creating a cloud of dust that surrounded them. The crowd fell silent for a moment, and then you forgot to breathe as they shouted excitedly again. Geta jumped to his feet and Caracalla grunted. Geta, realising that your body was shaking, grabbed your shoulders and you both breathed a sigh of relief as soon as the dust cleared and you saw the sword Marcus had plunged into the tiger's throat.

Marcus barely threw himself backward as the tiger's fangs snapped open and closed right next to his beautiful face. His sword remained lodged in the animal's neck and soon the tiger's lifeless body collapsed to the ground. The gladiator lunged at Marcus with his sword while he was down. Marcus swiftly grabbed the spear from the ground and shielded himself. As the sword and spear clashed, a deafening sound reverberated through the arena. Marcus was determined not to let go of the spear he was holding and, despite the blood flowing from his leg, he tripped the gladiator's foot and knocked him to the ground. He immediately got up and tried to stand, leaning on the spear. The gladiator cursed as he got up and Marcus threw his pugio at him. If you had been right next to them in the arena, you would have heard the sharp sound of the pugio cutting the wind.

Caracalla returned Geta's grin with one of his own, and Geta laughed with joy. You soon came to know what had happened as you realised Marcus' pugio lodged in the gladiator's throat. As the gladiator tried to remove the dagger from his throat, Marcus advanced on him and kicked him in the stomach, knocking him down. The gladiator had only moments left, but Marcus was not to be appeased. He picked up a crossbow from ground, set a bolt in place, readying the crossbow to be shot – the very same crossbow the gladiator had used – aimed right above the gladiator's face. The crowd of the Colosseum was on its feet, eager to see what the General was about to do. Geta and Caracalla extended their arms forward, and Marcus turned his head in that direction.

The emperors turned their thumbs down, and Marcus's face hardened into a grim smile. He aimed the crossbow directly at the gladiator's head again and pulled the trigger. The crowd roared and cheered again, their approval loud and clear. They all chanted Marcus's name over and over. But your eyes were fixed on the bright red liquid leaking from his calf down his leg, soaking his sandals. You turned to run to him, but Geta grasped your arm.

“Where are you going?”

“To my husband,” you said, pushing his arm away.

‘We shall head together," he said, turning to Caracalla. ‘Weren't you the one who wanted to see the tiger up close?’

Caracalla laughed. “Yes, I want one of his teeth,” he said firmly, holding up a finger to the guard next to him. The guard nodded.

“I want the claw,” Geta said, putting his arm around your neck as you both walked.

Macrinus approached Caracalla and spoke in a low voice, then excused himself and left in a hurry.  The guards accompanied you as you headed towards the iron gate situated just below the imperial tribune. As you made your way down the stairs, the announcer proclaimed the names of the emperors, and the crowd responded with enthusiastic cheers.

You slipped out of Geta's arm and rushed towards Marcus. Two soldiers were with him, tending to his wounds, and when they saw you, they stopped and bowed. You immediately put your hands out to look at his leg. It was deep, and you looked at Marcus with concern. But he smiled.

“General Acacius, our esteemed champion who has a proven track record of success.” Geta applauded him.

“The tiger almost made you lunch, Acacius,” Caracalla said, laughing.

Marcus forced a smile and walked over to the tiger, pulling his sword from its throat with a swift movement. He raised the sword as he approached the emperor, the air filled with the scent of rusty iron as a few drops of blood fell to the ground.

Your half-brothers tensed, and the guards moved to a defensive position to protect them. The crowd began to mutter. You looked at Marcus, curious about his intention. His face was expressionless, but his eyes spoke volumes.

“My emperors, I wonder if you are aware of the number of lives lost in the process of taking these animals out of their natural habitat and bringing them here to Rome and the Colosseum. I have to say that ten of my men have lost their lives in this endeavour. They were Roman citizens, and they served you loyally. Ten good men who cannot easily be replaced.”

You didn't expect this, and you pleased that Marcus brought this truth to their attention. However, they didn't seem to care.

“After all they died to serve Rome, didn't they?” Caracalla smiled arrogantly. Geta remained silent, his eyes roaming over the tiger's dust and blood-covered body.

“Yes, they did, to serve Rome. But that is not the kind of death they deserve, is it?”

“I think he heard about the rhino, brother.” Geta muttered.

"Ah, now I see. You're concerned that a few soldiers might be lost again."

"Rhino?" You looked at them in surprise.

“You don't mention the details to your wife, do you, General?” Geta laughed.

Marcus ignored him. “As I mentioned, bringing a tiger here is a big waste in terms of manpower and also costs a lot of the Rome's resources. I can't even think about a rhino.” He drove his sword into the ground with a sharp thrust. “Rome has so many subjects, she must feed them.” Marcus's tone was stern.

Caracalla took Marcus' sword in his hand and pointed it at him. You gasped and took a step forward.

“They can eat war, General.”

Geta smiled and seemed to agree with him. Caracalla raised his arms and pointed at the crowd.

“Just look at them. They're all watching with great interest. They're all pretty pleased with themselves. They're having as much fun as we are.”

“Yes, but what about the people living in the alleys?” You said suddenly and walked over to them.

Caracalla looked annoyed.

“Do you really think all citizens are coming here? There are lots of people in the alleyways who are going starving, and many of them are children. I had the chance to see them recently. The situation is pretty dire."

You looked at Marcus out of the corner of your eye and saw that he was looking at you.

"Enough! Don't you ever dare to collaborate with your husband and order me around!"

Geta looked at you with a warning gaze, then turned to his brother. "Never mind them, brother, I want to see the tiger," he said and strode off in that direction. Caracalla gave you both a menacing look before turned and stepped towards his brother.

Marcus approached you. "You didn't need to get involved."

"Is it wrong to defend my husband?"

He smiled, "No, of course not, my lady, but the longer you don't confront him, the better."

Then he touched his calf and groaned.

"Marcus, your wound needs to be treated now!" You put your arm around his waist and called out the soldiers.

Marcus insisted you pull your arm back, and they led their general inside. Before leaving, you turned to look at your brothers, who were excitedly observing the tiger and laughing as if they were playing with a new shiny toy. You rolled your eyes and sighed, then turned towards the iron gate and followed your husband inside.

By the time you arrived at the villa, the sun had bathed Rome in its golden light, preparing to say goodbye. Marcus' cut on his calf was deep but not severe. It would take a week or two to heal. The slaves in the villa were taken aback to see Marcus returning, armoured and bruised, after an unexpected fight. As Marcus' body was covered in dust and dirt, you ordered Tullia to prepare the bath immediately upon entering the courtyard. You both ascended the stairs heading to your room, Marcus seemed to be struggling with each step. You helped him remove his armour and other items. Then he watched you with interest as you took off your palla and stola.

"I think I'm getting the hang of this," you said, smiling at him.

"Let me," he said, reaching for the bracelets on your wrists.

This had become a daily routine: you helping Marcus take off or put on his armour while he helped you with your dress. He liked to undress you more, though.

Once he'd taken off your bracelets and necklace and put them on his desk, you wanted to take a look at his wound. You noticed that the bandage had turned red, so you quickly crouched down on the floor next to his leg and unwrapped it.

"We need to clean around the wound and wrap it tighter."

You were concerned, but he wasn't really. Your face was right next to his crotch, and your warm breath on his skin made things worse. Marcus's heartbeat quickened as you picked up a clean cloth and came back to him. You were so worried and focused on his wound that you didn't notice his eyes looking at you with desire.

You cleaned the wound meticulously, wrapped it. "You're stronger, so wrap it tightly." You said.

As you rose to your feet, Marcus stopped you by grasping your shoulder and lowering you back to your knees. You looked at him with confusion, and saw the familiar intensity in his dark brown eyes, and then saw the length of him growing under his burgundy tunic.

“But why-“

It was a silly question.

“Because of you,” he grinned. “Desires you,” he said, cupping you under the chin with his hand and bringing your face close to his crotch.

Your cheeks flushed red and you swallowed hard.

“I wish to feel your lips around me,” his thumb hovered over your lips. “And your sweet tongue,” he leaned his head down and kissed you on the lips. After breaking the kiss he looked into your eyes, “Will you give your husband what he desires?”

You were ready to do anything for him, but this was a new and strange thing for you. He's your husband. You should please him as he pleased you, you thought to yourself.

You nodded, your eyes meeting his. "If that's what you desire," you said, your voice smooth and confident, and grasped the hem of his tunic, lifting it. You were ready. You bit your lower lip as you looked at his glorious length. You had imagined him in your mouth before, but from this angle, he looked big. Marcus sensed your nervousness and took your hand, guiding it over him so that you could grasp his length.

You tentatively took his length in one hand and stroked it a few times, noting that it was already hard between your fingers and that a drop of precum was forming at the tip. You leaned in and gave him a little lick, just to see what it would feel like. It was warm, salty, musky. You let your tongue trail around the ridge of his crown. He exhaled in a low, raspy tone through his nose. You smiled, hearing his low moans gave you confidence. You lowered his throbbing length into your mouth, which was stretched open as far as it could go and still only just fit around him. Your tongue flicked over his more sensitive spot, while your hands worked over the base, kneading it gently. He shuddered in delight. Then, all of a sudden, he thrust deep into your throat.

“Mmmff!” Your voice was muffled, and he felt your gag reflex vibrating against the sensitive skin of his length.

"Look at me, my love,” he purred. You obey immediately. “You are enjoying that are you not?" He hissed cheekily through a struggled breath.

You hum in response and he jolts at the vibration of your mouth around his throbbing length. You continue to suck him and you look directly up into his eyes innocently for a moment which sends him right to the edge, the way you are looking up at him sweetly and seductively but so naughtily, your long eyelashes fluttering everytime the tip of him hits the back of your throat. The yellowish sun light streaming through the window lit up your hair, illuminating the strands of gold and copper that flowed over your shoulders. He grabbed your hair in his fists and yanked. But you liked it.

“So beautiful,” he pants.

He pulls back before thrusting forward again, balls-deep in your mouth, coming inside you, taking you by surprise. You swallow on instinct, surprised that it was really sweet. He touches your cheek, wiping away a few drops with his finger, and you look up at him shyly.

“Gods, you have enchanted me body and soul, I love you,” He purred and held your jaw in both his hands, pulling you off him and you frown a little at the loss of him inside your mouth.

But he did it to pull you into his arms in a hurry, his arms wrapped tightly around your waist as he kissed you passionately. Then he grabbed you by the hips and lifted you up, pushing the things off his desk and making you sit. You were too busy to care about the sound of the ink bottle falling to the floor and the papers flying around. You pressed your hands on his shoulders, pushed your head back and broke the kiss to catch your breath. Your eyes met and you saw the fire of desire in his eyes. You blinked and swallowed, reacting the same way every time. He grinned at you the same way, and it never seemed to get old.

“I must have you. Now.” The rough timbre of his voice sent shivers down your spine.

Her insistent and impatient fingers peeled the fabric of your tunic down your shoulders. The fabric gathered around your waist. His burning lips met yours again, his strong hands gripped your hips once more and pulled you to the edge of the desk. His hands caressed your knees down to your ankles and pulled the fabric of your dress up. In one swift movement he removed his tunic and threw it to the floor. When he turned to you, looking at you like a hungry wolf and your heart began to pound faster. Your mouths met again, and in an instant, you were lost in an all-consuming kiss. You push your hips forward against his crotch and suddenly aware of how hard and big he has again become in such a short time. You admire his heaving chest and all his muscles and his scars. You lean up to touch his chest and wrap your arms around his broad shoulders. He slides inside you with a sudden movement, your walls clenching instinctively at the excitement of this new position. He moans into your mouth and breaks the kiss, grabs your hips with both hands, pulls out and thrusts deeper. You tilt your head back and try to breathe. He grabs your jaw gently and makes you face him. “I want you to watch me,” he whispered.

You had to learn to adapt to his behaviour, as it was a recurring habit of his, but you still felt that your shyness was holding you back. In contrast to you, he rarely closed his eyes, only when he was nearing the end. He usually prefers to watch you, he values eye contact greatly, as if he doesn't want to miss any moment of this precious moment with you. Probably because he was a very passionate man, filled with pure desire. “Marcus…” You moan his name as your walls clench around him so hard that he groans. Wave after wave you crash into him. Your arms are below his, but wrapped around him and your nails dig further into his back. You think you hurt him when he hisses but he smirks and all it does is make him chase after you with his own climax. At that moment, you feel he was spilling, filling every inch of you, licks and sucks even bite your chin meanwhile. He continues to thrust and the wet sound of him releasing more and more inside you is music to your ears as he rides out the remaining waves of your climax. Finally he slows down and stops, breathing heavily. Both of you enjoying the moment between, admiring how you're almost naked on his desk and he's just had you there. He pulled out slowly, smiled as he enjoys the sight of you. Then run his fingers through his hair, wiped the sweat from his brow and foreground, and took a moment to catch his breath.

“My lady.” He held out his hand, offering to help you to your feet. You slowly get up, thighs together, still holding on to him. He leaned in a little closer to tuck your messy hair behind your ears.

“I believe the best time for a bath is at this very moment.” He grinned. "Shall we?”

In the Balneum, while you were rubbing Marcus's shoulders and cleansing him of the grime of the sandy, dusty surroundings of the arena, he was very quiet. He appeared to be lost in thought. Perhaps he was tired, you thought. The exertion in the arena, the struggle to survive, and dealing with your brothers must have been exhausting for him. However, the feeling of being deprived of his voice was becoming unbearable.

“You know, you could tell me,” you said softly, breaking Marcus's thoughts.

“Hmm?”

You rested your head on his shoulder from behind, your cheeks lightly touching his.

“It must have hurt you, losing those men of yours. You don't have to carry that burden on your shoulders alone. As your wife, you can share it with me.” You kissed his neck right on the jugular vein.

Marcus turned his head to you, his beard brushing your nose. “How fortunate man I am that the Gods have blessed me with you?”

He turned and pulled you towards him, slipping his arms under your shoulders and thighs as he did so, and pulled you into the water beside him. Your giggles were accompanied by the splashing sound of the hot water and echoed through the marble walls of the balneum.

Marcus kissed you gently on the lips, tenderly, adoringly. He pulled back and smiled, gathering your wet hair on one side of your neck. “My beautiful princess, you know I would do anything for you, don't you?”

You ran your fingers along the line of his lips as your head rested on the arm he had wrapped around you from behind.

“With all my heart, I know, General,” you murmured.

"I hope you will be reassured that from this moment on, I will do everything I can for you and for Rome." His gaze sharpened and his expression became serious, as if he was making a vow. Your fingers traced the wrinkles at the corner of his eyes.

"You sound like you might be about to do something soon?”

His eyes dropped to your wet hair. 'I only wanted to make sure you know that.'

You got a strange feeling all over, and his expression was unlike anything you'd ever seen. And it lasted all night. Even when you were lying in bed together, holding you in his arms and kissing you on the lips, it felt different.

You found it difficult to get to sleep because you were troubled by a peculiar sensation that persisted throughout the night. As soon as you opened your eyes in the morning, you felt a shiver, but it wasn't because your hair was still damp. The sensation you always felt first thing in the morning was missing, the comforting warmth of an arm around you and its owner. Your hand instinctively went to the other side of the bed, you felt the sheet with the back of your hand. It was cold. Usually, it was warm.

You sat up in bed and looked around. He was gone. His armour and other belongings were nowhere to be seen. You got out of bed, shivering, your chest hurting. This room hadn't felt so warm in his absence. However, there was no change in the air temperature, everything must be the same. But it wasn't. Nothing was the same without him. You found yourself wishing that this morning, which had begun inauspiciously, was a dream. However, when you were once again confronted with the feelings you had experienced the night before you decided to leave the room. As if running away.

As you descended the stairs, you saw Norell walking in the courtyard with a tray. You called out to her, and she turned to face you.

“Where is the General?”

Tullia came up to her and mumbled something. You hurried down the stairs and walked over to them. Why didn't they answer you?

“Where's my husband?” Your voice was louder than you wanted it to be.

Tullia came closer to you, her eyes uncertain.

"My lady, the general left early this morning."

"Where did he go?"

"I don't know, but he's probably off to the barracks."

"He's never left this early before. Surely he said something?"

Tullia opened her eyes wide. "How dare I ask him questions, my lady?"

You frowned. You felt like she was hiding something from you, but you couldn't be sure what. After she excused herself and left, Decima saw you and walked towards you.

“My lady,' she greeted you. "Your eyes are a little sunken. Are you alright?"

“I don't- I don't feel well,” your voice trembled.

"Please, take a seat." She held your hand and kindly guided you to sit on the armchair.

You sat and sighed deeply. Decima sat next to you. From the look in her eyes, you sensed that she was aware of something and wanted to share it with you.

"Sir Octavius arrived at dawn. Whatever he said to the general, he quickly dressed and left. I thought you knew."

You placed your head in your hands and groaned at the headache you felt.

"I must have fallen into a deep sleep around that time because I couldn't sleep properly at night."

“I’ll bring your breakfast," she said and rose to her feet, but you reached for her arm and prevented her from doing so.

"That is unnecessary. I would prefer to rest in the room until the General arrives.”

However, he did not return that evening or the following day.

The minutes seemed to drag on, each one a painful torture. When the waiting became unbearable, you decided to leave the villa one evening. You needed to find him and see why he wasn’t coming back.  As you had promised him, you wrapped the small knife Marcus gave you around your ankle, put on your black cloak and left the room. Decima spotted you and ran to you, reaching out to take your hand on the stairs, but you pushed her hand away.

Tullia and Norell and even the other slaves ran to you, all of them concerned.

"Domina! Please don't leave at this hour." Tullia pleaded.

“Master will be back eventually, please be patient." Norell reached out to take your other hand but you pulled it back. The others also begged, making you even angrier.

You raised your hand. “Enough!" Your voice, loud, echoed through the courtyard. Mau, startled from her slumber, leapt up, jumped down and ran behind the fountain. They were taken aback and fell silent. Their kind and soft Domina was gone. You turned your head, strode purposefully out of the courtyard. As soon as you came out, saw Cato and Octavius there which surprised you.

“My lady,” Cato ran to you.

You looked at Octavius.

“Where is my husband?”

“My lady, I cannot allow you to leave, please go back inside.”

You approached him frowning. “I asked you a question, Sir Octavius!” It was the first time you had raised your voice to Octavius, who had always been kind to you. He startled and tensed a little.

Tullia, Norell and Decima were watching you anxiously from the doorway of the courtyard.

Octavius bowed his head. "The General has a mission to complete, he has ordered me to stay here and protect you until he returns. You must understand, your safety is paramount."

You opened your eyes wide. "Mission? I want to know exactly what you mean by that."

Octavius' expression was hesitant. You approached him. “Sir, please, I need to know where he is."

He frowned, didn't answer.

"Or is it about my brothers?"

He remained silent, still no answer. You were getting more and more angry.

“If it's an important mission, why are you here? Aren't you his right-hand man?”

“I am, but this is his direct order.”

“Tell me at once what the General's mission is.”

After some thought, he looked at you.

“The General said. If he fails…" Octavius could hardly speak. You swallowed, sensing you wouldn't be pleased with what you were about to hear. “He said that I must protect you with my life, no matter what.”

Your throat got dry. “Octavius, tell me where he is.” Your voice was shaking.

You imagine he was as displeased with the order he had been given, and as worried as you were. His expression became more resolute. “Sir Macrinus. We have been considering various strategies for some time now to ensure a successful outcome. Two days ago, when we became aware that he was departing for Libya, we devised a plan to launch an attack just outside the capital this morning. The general was keen to proceed with minimal disruption and with a few man.”

“Macrinus is no fool. He could very well be outnumbered.”

“That's a possibility,” Octavius stated.

The wave of anxiety had taken over your whole body, Marcus' words echoed in your head. 'For you and for Rome.'

“Cato! Get my horse here at once!” You ordered. He looked surprised at first but nodded and trotted off towards the stables when you looked at him angrily.

“My Lady, but-“

You turned to Octavius. “Lead the way.”

please reblog, comment or like if you enjoyed thank you all <3

@myownwholewildworld @orcasoul @pedroslut4eva @immyowndefender @lailathepedritofan @screechingchildfury @shinymusicpanda @somedayheaven @ivoryandflame @negrita2345 @music-lover09 @javiismyhsbnd @idontcareihavenoidea @jisungandpedrolover @mmkkzz @ro-nahime-things @indiegirlunited @kluvspedro @movievillainess721 @berriesarepunk

if anyone wants me to tag them please comment or msg me :)

[lh44girl]

: A Winter Night with Lewis

The winter wrapped your little chalet in a blanket of snow, the soft glow of moonlight pouring through the curtains. You were snuggled into bed, wrapped in your favorite cozy flannel pajamas and clutching your plushy bunny like a child guarding their treasure. Beside you, Lewis sprawled under the thick duvet, as bare as the day he was born, grinning at you with a mischievous glint in his eye.

“Y’know,” he began, his deep voice low and teasing, “sleeping in all that… stuff… isn’t exactly how people stayed warm back in the day.”

You rolled your eyes, burrowing deeper into the covers. “Back in the day, people didn’t have central heating or plushy bunnies. Your argument is invalid.”

He chuckled, scooting closer, the warmth of his body seeping into your layers of fabric. “I’m just saying, you’d be much warmer like me. No barriers between us and all that.” You always felt a little shy knowing well his naked under the covers playing footies with you.

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” you teased, hugging your bunny tighter. “But I’m fine, thanks. You do your thing; I’ll do mine.”He has a way of creeping into you tickling you.

But Lewis wasn’t one to give up. As the night wore on, you felt his fingers playfully tug at the hem of your pajama top. “Just this,” he whispered. “You don’t need it. I promise you’ll be warmer.”

You sighed, half-annoyed but mostly amused, and let him lift it off. Before long, the pants followed, his hands gentle yet determined. “See? Isn’t that better?” Your bare bodies stuck to each other soft and warming up. He was soft as velvet.

You couldn’t deny it. The press of his skin against yours, the way he wrapped his arms around you like a human furnace—it was better. But you weren’t about to admit defeat so easily.

“Fine,” you muttered, pretending to glare at him. “But Bunny stays.”

Lewis arched a brow, his fingers inching toward the plushy. “Do they, though?”

“Lewis Carl Davidson Hamilton, don’t you dare.”

He laughed, pulling you—and the bunny—closer. “Alright, alright. Bunny can stay. For now.”

And as he buried his face in your neck, you couldn’t help but smile, the cozy warmth of love and winter wrapping you both in its embrace.

Over time, the habit of sleeping in the nude became your special thing, but only with Lewis. You couldn’t bring yourself to do it alone, and certainly not when his family visited. But on those nights when it was just the two of you, his bare warmth against yours felt like home.

Lewis was cheekily thrilled with this arrangement. “See? Told you it’s better my way,” he’d whisper with a smirk, pulling you closer.

Sometimes, during the harsh winter night, even with the all this, Lewis suggests a different way to worm you up, he leveled up his game. “Lewis what are you doing?!!”you felt his hard cock near your soft pussy lips. He just grinned”trust me,you’ll warm up” he cocked warm you from the inside out, making moan and melt into him. These night, you both loved it the most,feeling as one& you slept the best sleep ever. A very therapeutic way to just distress and zone out of reality.

As the months passed, your beloved plushy bunny started making fewer appearances in bed,only present when both of you being tired & sleepy . It wasn’t intentional; it just naturally happened. Bunny was only left out of bed when things between you two were particularly lustrous euphoria & romantically playful & flirty . On those nights, you’d mischievously grab Bunny, cover its little eyes, and tuck it under the bed or a pillow as if shielding it from the scene about to unfold.

Lewis always found this utterly hilarious. “Babe, seriously? Poor Bunny. What’s he done to deserve exile?” he’d tease, chuckling as he leaned over to steal a kiss.

“It’s not exile,” you’d argue, feigning seriousness. “It’s protection. Bunny’s innocent.”

“Mm-hmm,” he’d murmur, pulling you against him. “I’m starting to think Bunny’s just jealous of me.”

You’d laugh, smacking his chest lightly. “Oh, don’t flatter yourself. Bunny and I go way back.”

“Well,” Lewis teased, grinning as his lips brushed your ear, “I think I’m doing a pretty good job replacing him.”

You couldn’t deny it. Bunny might always have a place in your heart, but in Lewis’s arms, you found a new kind of warmth, safety —one that was deeper, richer, and undeniably yours.

[keisobe]

✮. ⋆ 𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 (𝐡𝐨𝐛𝐢𝐞 𝐛𝐫𝐨𝐰𝐧) ⋮ smut. gn!reader. not completely proofread. ⎯ your instincts kick in when hobie takes off his rings

faint clinks of metal and the soft drag along the wooden table instantly turned your head towards the source— something that sets off a tick in your head.

everything you were doing before was put aside from your mind.

quietly, you followed the shine of each ring passing through hobie’s slender fingers, from an outstretched thumb to a twitching ring finger. you always found yourself admiring his hands, roughly calloused and blessed with a length that could reach places that you couldn’t ever seem to get. also, they were exceptionally skilled.

with one soft clink of his final ring, he gently latched onto your ankle that rested against the coffee table, carefully dragging you into his intense presence. you smiled at him, jokingly smacking his shoulder for using his spidey strength on you.

“may i?” his sweet tone automatically made your legs spread with ease.

hobie quirked a brow at your reflexive response and begin his usual technique.

you’re staring down at his lingering hands, one lazily gripping your waist while the other passes through the waistband of your shorts. you initially flinched at the contact but instantly melted into his touch. his hands are cold, but it soothed the scorching heat that followed towards your crotch.

“‘m sorry, my hands too cold?” hobie mumbled into your neck, suckling onto your sweaty skin— hoping to revive the marks he left weeks ago.

“it’s fine, totally fine.” you mumbled quickly, grasping the fabric covering his broad shoulders in anticipation for his icy touch.

heat enveloped your entire body as hobie probed a slender finger into your aching arousal— earning a soft mewl from your quivering lips.

he began with a slow pace, pumping deep inside you as he dazed over your wet warmth that squeezed like a vice around his touch. he couldn’t help but groan into your neck, sending a deep vibration onto your flushed skin.

with the confined room being filled with your whimpering and deep labored breathes from hobie, one finger became two, then three.

every wet click was muffled from the fabric of your shorts, only the outline hobie’s working hand sent sparks into your brain. even in the vicinity of your shared home, away from prying eyes, you were robbed to see yourself getting completely pleasured by hobie.

soon enough, his pace quickens as your whines began to become full on moans, feeling yourself reaching the edge. with hobie bending his fingers into your sweet spot for the past ten minutes and his teeth scraping your bruised skin, your back arched against hobie as a pleasure erupted throughout your body.

before you could wail an obscene amounts of profanity and announce his name like a broken record, hobie wraps his other hand around your neck— a grip tight enough for you to fall into soft whimpers of his name slipping past your drool-coated lips. slowly coming down your high, he mumbled slurred curse words as retracted his hand back with a snap of the elastic band of your shorts. completely coated with your lustrous arousal, he takes his fingers to his mouth and pulls them back with a lewd pop.

hobie gently caresses the nap of your neck as he ogled at the marks he littered with his mouth, guiding your head slowly onto the pillow beside you— tucking your bare feet onto his lap.

“shhh… we don’ want another noise complaint babe.” the vivid memory of the elderly woman beside your apartment knocking (rudely, in your opinion) in the middle of hobie going down on you made you groan into the pillow, it was completely embarrassing (for your sake, hobie ended up fitting into his plaid pants and talked to the lady himself, as much as he couldn’t care about the disruption).

hobie couldn’t help but chuckle at your flustered state, leaning back into the plush leather beneath his back as he haphazardly fitted the rings back into his fingers. a comfortable silence fell upon the humid room.

“hobie…”

“hm?”

“you’re hard.” you felt the throb of his erection against your feet.

he looks down with sleepy eyes, poorly attempting to pat down his hardness by rubbing down a lazy hand along the fabric, only for his hard on to bob back up— leaving a painfully obvious imprint along his thin pajamas.

“‘ll go away… eventually.”

MOCHIFILM © 2023. please do not copy, translate, or modify any of my work. all of my works are not permitted to be posted on any other sites.

[blacknight1230]

Healing Touches

(Y/n) is suffering from one of the worst migraines they had ever had, but luckily she has two wonderful partners to help her feel better.

poly!Halsin X Reader X Astarion

Everything hurt. Why does everything hurt? That was the first thing you were thinking of when you woke up that morning. The sounds of the birds singing their morning song, the sunlight breaking through the slit in your tent's opening, the reverberating throbbing of your head ... it could only mean one thing. You were suffering from a migraine. You tried to get up to try and find something to help you with your pain, but the slightest movement made a wave of dizziness and nausea to overcome you. Spots danced across your eyes, even when they were closed and your back teeth were even in pain. This is by far the worst migraine you have ever experienced, and you've suffered from quite a lot. This is what I get for not having my medication with me, you thought. Yet another thing you took for granted when you somehow managed to transport yourself from the modern world to the magical and chaotic world of Faerûn. How you did that, you still did not know.

The vertigo you were dealing with made it impossible for you to physically get help. So, you did the only thing possibly in this situation; you used your tadpole to connect with one of your companions. You psychically reached out to one of your nearby companion's tadpole, latching onto the first one your worm felt. You struggled to maintain the connection and formulate proper thoughts to convey your need for help. Before you were able to identify who you were connected with, said connection broke as you lost concentration, your head now pounding even harder. Everything felt numb as blood rushed in your ears and spots danced behind your eyes again.

The opening of your tent flap and sunlight pouring in signalled that someone had entered your informal abode. You sheltered under the layers of your bedroll and hissed at the brightness, not able to see who came to your rescue. "Are you alright, pet? I felt you reach out to me," a sauve cool voice asked. Astarion, you inwardly cooed. The silver haired vampire noticed your aversion to the light, closing the tent flap behind him as he shuffled closer to you. "Darling, please say something," he worried. You peaked an eye over the edge of your bedroll cover, met with the handsome face of your vampiric lover. His usual lustrous saccharine eyes were soft with concern, furrowed brows showing the hidden wrinkles of his forehead. "Migraine," you managed to say, voice coming out raspy and low. The slight movement of your jaw did not help the resounding pain in your back teeth, which in turn made your head worse. "Oh, my sweet little love," he cooed. He reached a hand out and brushed it across the apple of your cheek, the slightest touch of his cold skin providing you with relief. "Let me go get, Halsin. He'll surely know what to do."

"No, stay," you whispered, wanting nothing more than for him to wander his icy hands over your head and neck. Astarion let out a sad chuckled, kneeling over you to place a gentle kiss to your forehead. "I'm sorry, my love. But I'll be right back, I promise." His icy touch left you as he careful made his way outside without letting any light disturb you.

You laid there, in silence and pain, for who knows how long. Time felt slower as the throbbing continued in your skull. Sleep refused to take you under its wings, and there was no way you could sit up and read a book. When the hulking frame of Halsin appeared in your tent's entrance way, you swore it was a godsend.

"Oh, my heart," the druid cooed when he laid eyes on you. "Halsin," you whimpered out. Tears were brimming at the corner of your eyes, but you wouldn't let him see them cascade down your face. "I've got some natural remedies to help you with your pain, my heart. But first you need to tell me where it hurts?" Halsin softly told you, kneeling down beside you. "Everywhere. It hurts everywhere," you told your hulking lover.

Astarion quietly shuffled himself into the privacy of your tent, situating himself to sit on the blanketed ground facing the other side of Halsin. "Darling, you need to be more specific so Halsin can help you? Can you do that for us?" he coached you, taking his hand to gentle rub away the furrowing of your forehead. You audibly let out a sigh of relief at the coldness of his fingers, losing yourself in his touch. "It looks like she enjoys that, Astarion. I suggest you continue while I prepare the appropriate remedies," Halsin cooed.

You just groaned in pleasure as Astarion's lithe fingers continued to massaged away the stress in your forehead muscles. You felt them relax, and in turn you stopped scrunching your eyes shut as the pain slightly lessened. But the back of your head, right where your spine meets your skull, was still throbbing in pain, so you grabbed Astarion's other hand and brought it to the spot. The vampire spawn seemed to understand what you wanted, slowly but firmly rolling the sore tissue under his pale fingertips. A small gasp was brought to your lips and the pounding of your heartbeat in your ears lessened to the point you could now hear Halsin grinding some medical herbs in a mortar and pestle somewhere inside your tent.

Liquid sloshed in a container as Halsin returned to you, having finished what he was doing. "I made you something to help with your migraine. I need you to sit up so you can drink it. Can you do that for me?" he informed. You mumbled out a small yes, struggling to prop yourself up on your elbows. Astarion wrapped an arm around your torso and gently pulled you to lean up against his chest. You placed a chaste kiss on his hand as a thank you. You were able to open your eyes now, though you still squinted due to not being used to the light, still somewhat sensitive to it. But you were able to make out Halsin kneeling beside you with a glass bottle filled with some reddish liquid inside held in his large hand.

"Here you go, my heart. Drink as much as you can," he said as he brought the glass rim up to your lips. You opened your mouth, humming as the first drop of the medicine hit your tongue. Mmm, chamomile, you thought. There was a hit of sweetness to it, as if Halsin added spoon of honey to the mixture., that craffy bear. You hummed in enjoyment at the taste, signalling to Halsin to tilt the bottle some more so you could drink more its contents.

When you almost finished the mixture, Halsin pulled the bottle away. "Not too much, my heart. There will be plenty more for you later," he teased. You mewled as you leaned further into Astarion's chest, eyes starting to feel droopy. Astarion let out a light chuckle at your affections. "I see the herbs are already working. Would you like us to stay with you while you nap, my darling?" he playfully ask. You nodded, looking up into his ruby eyes with a child-like pout on your lips. "Please. I want some cuddles," you pleaded. "Oh, darling, how could we ever say no to a face like that," Astarion cooed, placing two light kisses against your eyelids.

You repositioned yourself so you were laying on your stomach with your head on Astarion's chest. The vampire wrapped his arms around your middle and laid a kiss on your head, before settling himself back onto your sleeping pillow. Your druid partner threw an arm over the both of you as he laid on his side, his muscular chest warming your side while his chin rested lightly on Astarion's white locks. You could feel the tangling of your legs with your partners, a smile making your way to your face. "Sweet dreams, my sweet," Astarion whispered in your ear. "Rest well, my love," Halsin purred, rubbing soothing circles into your back. The scent of your loves and the sound of their rhythmic breathing lulled you back to sleep, the pain that once plagued you moment you woke up long forgotten as you laid within their loving embraces.

[screampied]

First time f!reader face sitting on kento

sitting on nanami’s face for the first time ★

warnings. fem! reader, face sitting + riding, hair pulling, praise, talking you through it, pussy drunk nanami, mdni.

“but—” each of your shy protests only makes nanami’s smile widen as he’s gleefully entrapped between your thighs. you’re hovering, just a few more inches and you’d take your seat right on his face. a thumb of his caress the demure curvature of your hips whilst you’re stammering up what to say next. “but what if you can’t breathe? i- i don’t wanna crush you, ‘ken.”

he brings a damp kiss near the outline of your panties that were lazily tugged towards the side. “honey,” and his entire voice was smooth, lingering with pure silk. mousy, mahogany eyes of his meets yours and he’s so delicate with his fingers. he then drags it to make it roam near your exposed folds, bringing a chaste kiss towards your entrance. “i promise, that’s not gonna happen. ‘m gonna be able to breathe.”

you swallow thickly, feeling a surging pulse within you from how kind he delivered his words—you furrow a brow, pouty expression and all before adding another concern onto your worries, “but-”

“but, i love you,” he chimes in with a soft smile, a thumb running down your sopping slit to make your legs judder. another kiss gets planted against your cunt before he’s just pawing at your thighs to take its inevitable seat on his face. “and i want you,” he continues, watching as you were biting back your own sweet, melodic whimpers. “so allow me,” he purrs, brushing his wedding ring against your swollen folds before giving it a teasing lick. “sit on my face, sweetheart. i got you, ‘n don’t worry about making a mess. i’ll take care of that later, okay?”

a whine spews from your wet parted lips before you finally fall into his lewd embrace— nanami watches with lit eyes as you’re gradually lowering yourself onto his mouth.

“atta girl, my sweet baby,” he coos, and another raw gasp sneaks it way past your lips. once you’re sat all the way down, a few warm breaths from his nose aerates against your sensitive skin. with long fluttering lashes, nanami’s tongue starts to greet your pussy was a striping slurp.

you’re already moaning, trying not to crush him with your drifting weight too hard but that was the very least of his worries. you taste sweet, syrupy slick coats the stubble that’s growing against his chiseled jaw before he lays his tongue flat.

“k-kento,” you’d whine, a fervor making the entire lower parts of your thighs ache already,

with swaying hips, you dig frigid fingers through his hair. whilst your digits comb right through his well kept strands, your maw starts to pry open.

its dangling, cute little pants run out of your lips as you hear the sloppy squelches he’s making against your cunt. his favorite meal, nanami cranes his head a bit to the left,

then, right,

then left.

he repeats this same exactly technique—laid out tip of his tongue prodding against your most tender spots.

nanami was a respectful pussy eater, respectful with a tiny sprinkle of sloppy. momentarily, your lustrous slick starts to coat a sheet right across his mouth. his jaw feels a few tingles every few seconds and a grunt escapes out of him. it was throaty, something as simple as nanami’s groans against your thighs never failed to make you throb again.

pretty browned eyes of his were half lidded—on the verge of closing to sink into pure bliss.

the soft plush of your thighs wraps around him and he’s never felt any more happier. “such a sweet girl,” he murmurs in a raspy tone, bringing a thumb back towards the middle part of your clit. he swipes against the pulsating nub to watch you spasm all on his face. the grip your legs had around his face drove him crazy,

you drove him crazy.

nanami was quite precise—he makes sure to not miss a single spot. with his tongue swirling in and out of your puffy folds, you feel his sucking on your clit accelerate.

a coquettish smile ceases against both sides of his lips before gifting the outer part with yet another kiss. nanami was a simple man—he’d have you suffocate him with his thighs any day.

a trailing string of spit glistens on his lips as he pulls back to breathe—caramel eyes, perfectly dilated in all gives you a hungry stare. “kentoo,” was all you could mutter out, the jerking of your hips approaching quicker.

he finds it cute on how you just couldn’t hold still, just squirming within his firm grasp. you knew with a tongue like his, you weren’t gonna last. it wasn’t rocket science, with the way you steadily oscillate your hips back and forth against his mouth—it snatches another booming groan from him. nanami feels the tent in his pants arise before a right hand of his squeezes your ass. “you’re so good, s-so nasty kento,” you huff, hands still in his hair. tips of your fingers tangle within the musses of his blond, parted hair. as he’s briefly moving his head side to side, enlarged umber pupils locks with yours. “gonna c-cumm.”

“but sweetheart,” he smooches a single kiss towards the inside of your entrance. it’s slick could have been used as exemplary lip gloss against his lips. his tongue effortlessly laps beneath your swollen folds, blowing near the very front of it to watch you squirm. a thumb of his trawls down the puckering opening before air seeps into his thin nostrils. “can’t help but be a little nasty for my wife,” and he’s smothering your entire arousal with many kisses— you feel the pang of a throb kindly erupt within you before your thighs shatter into a million pieces. “especially when she’s this wet for me…goddd just listen to it, listen to her.”

you’re whimpering, jerking against his face and the same sheepish smile that yanks against both sides of his lips remains imprints itself there. his features, the more you stare, the more you wanna ruin his face with your syrupy slick even more. nanami lolls out his clean pink tongue, spiraling the tip against your labia before you hear the sloshes your own cunt produces.

it’s fucking sloppy.. indeed it was, your stomach was in knots and that’s when he brings a hand to give it a light spank.

“oh my,” he seductively purrs, your immediate reaction was to mewl out his name and you only contribute further to the rising boner aching in his pants, stashed away devastatingly in his buckled up work jeans. you’re pulsing right in front of his eyes— pretty pretty pussy, he could stare at it all day. his tongue knows the entire layout, laying flat against your jittery folds before you finally came.

nanami’s brows furrow, a playful smile compressing on his lips as you’re losing yourself. a hand of his rubs in a circular rotation against your sweet. he relishes in your pleasure, unstable hips of yours practically gives out to where he’s holding you upright with a strong hand.

the small jaded like material of his wedding ring brushes against your skin before you whine. with your throat becoming insignificantly dry. your hips stutter and you’re met with the most kindest eyes.

“oh, you’re so gorgeous when you’re a mess for me, my love,” and he’s gentle now. the squashy tips of his fingers tenderly caress against your pussy, gifting it a final kiss as he watches you heave for more full breaths. “ah, such a good girl,” he hums before sliding his tongue across his lips, savoring your slick. “but tell me, i must know. how was it, baby? is this—is this something you’d want me to do more of? allow you to sit on my face?”

he sits up, you’re still straddling his face before replying in a shrilling, “y-yes, please,” and he’s caught by surprise once you give his smooth strands a thirsty tug. with a bottom lip poking out, you whine. “again, ‘ken. can you do it again, please?”

“anything for my wife,” he presses a wet kiss against the crevices of your thigh. you moan, sliding yourself back against his mouth and he shoots you a look of pure softhearted slyness.

“although,” he whispers, stopping himself from digging in. your pouty expression grows, wanting him to just dig in. nanami’s voice pitches a deep huskily low, still soft and sweet before he gives your pussy a gentle passionate kiss just like he does just for you on a daily. after all— in nanami’s mind, your other lips deserved attention too.

with a mere whisper, feverish breath fanning against your sopping opening, he flashes you a devious grin. “how about this time, let’s see if i can make my messy wife squirt.”

[prettyundeadgirl]

Crave The Rose

1st and 3rd gifs made by me :)

Summary: Throughout your time in King's Landing, you and the carelessly attractive Kingsguard grew fond of each other. Your sister Margaery believes you both suit each other exceedingly well, soon setting you two up, and beneath the moonlight, love unfurls.

Pairing: Jaime Lannister x Tyrell Female Reader

Wordcount: 1.9k

Tags: Fluff, Smut, 18+ MDNI

AO3 Link

From the moment he set foot into the lush gardens of King’s Landing, his pair of viridescent eyes, shot with gold, set themselves onto you with an untold and profound intrigue. 

He’d go to the gardens whenever the chance arose, knowing you frequented there. He first enjoyed admiring you from afar, and it soon led him down a luring path where he’d do anything possible to get closer to you. Whether it was a simple, “Pardon me,” to brush past your skin and hear your gentle voice apologize for ‘being in his way,’ or to simply greet you. 

Engaging conversations soon blossomed, and you grew rather fond of him, leaving your grandmother and sister early to catch up with him and walk through the endless greenery, scented with vibrant inflorescences.

–

The day was up early, new and fresh, yet the torrid heat remained the same. You strolled beside the pond’s stone borders, taking a seat on the edge and basking in the generous and unyielding rays of sunlight that brightened the strands of your hair and complemented certain aspects of your features. 

Jaime had arrived only moments after and spotted you in an instant. He gathered in the picturesque view—the delicate movement of your leg crossing over the other, the intricate, floral trim of your dress, and the way you hovered over the pond to see the fish swimming beneath the lily pads that lay afloat, graced with pearlescent water lilies.

When you looked at him, lashes lifting slowly with that smile you always gave him, everything in his peripheral vision was meaningless as he stared at you—the electric, captivating focal point. And like the white, casting moon, you had a gravitational pull on the ocean tides of his attention, distant yet somehow influential, tugging him along. It wasn’t until you broke the contact to face your approaching sister Margaery that he was then dragged onto the mundane shores of reality. 

Margaery was undoubtedly graceful, with her lustrous, long brown hair and soft doe-like stare.

“Grandmother wants to speak with us.” She stated, and as you stood up from your spot, she acknowledged Jaime with an inquisitive glint before interlacing her arm with yours. You asked her what she wanted as you both withdrew from the area, leaving Jaime with an indescribable and strange sense of longing.

Gone from his view, a smirk appeared on her face, and etched in her creases was a curiosity one couldn’t possibly deny, and it had been there for some time.

“He’s rather handsome, isn’t he?”

“Very.” You answered noticeably quickly. 

“He likes you, I’ve seen it. I think you’d make a beautiful couple.”

Disbelief flashed across your features and you expelled a scoff, “You’re all wrong, he’s a Kingsgaurd. Forbidden to love. And he swore an oath to the king, your king.”

She giggled at your reaction, “Dear sister, you have much to learn. Most men never keep their oath, and what I saw today, his mind was clearly breaking that oath.” She drawled the last few words, wanting you to hear every syllable.

She was right.

Out of his sight, involuntary images and thoughts of you embedded themselves into the crevices of his mind—some pure, most not. It lingered in the back throughout his day and grew in the night before he went to sleep, and when he awakened, the hazy memory would come to a clear. He spent many mornings and nights this way—starting and ending with you, and he almost felt himself go mad, but he never knew one to love it as much as he did.

–

Beneath the heavens, you were situated on a long stone bench surrounded by verdant bushes and flourished plants, gazing out to where the sky and sea touched. The golden hours of the afternoon drained into the horizon; the sun, already gone, succumbing to its own inevitable demise. Darkness swept away the remnants of daylight that lingered, until the night prevailed, and myriad pinpricks of white sparkling light, softer than satin, adorned it graciously. 

The glistening, tranquil waters lapped against the stone structure, its song melding with your blissful hums. It reflected the prideful moon hung above which watched as you held a flower you plucked from a nearby bush, stripping it of its petals until all that remained of it was the stem. You placed the petals into your hands, sending them off into the night where they swayed down for the vast expanse of water to claim, flowing away until they were no longer visible.

Before long, your attention is drawn to the familiar clattering sound of armor approaching your direction.

“Ser Jaime.” You greeted, rising from your seat.

“Lady (name).” 

“What did you wish to speak to me about?”

His brows slightly furrowed at your question, “I was told you had wished to speak with me. Did you not?”

“No,” You admitted with pure honesty, taking a few steps forward. “My sister told me you wanted to meet me here, said you had something you’ve been wishing to tell me for a while.”

A spark of realization pervaded you after you finished your sentence, and as if by magic, the realization traveled to him as he smiled and you let out a small laugh, a sound he never tired of.

Inches away from him with that gentle gaze that sent his heart to cease, you raised your arm and traced the indentations of his shiny, aureate armor. The world was quiet—just the two of you, surrounded by nothing but plants and gleaming stars.

“Do you have something you wish to tell me, Ser?” The sudden shift in your tone and closeness sent an unbidden tightness to his throat.

“Yes.” He admitted. “I’ve wanted you since the moment I laid my eyes on you.”

Pulling him closer, your lips grazed and you kissed him, the rose of your mouth blooming against him. His hands, by nature, encompassed the curves of your hips, and the cool gilded fingertips of his false hand contrasted with the warmth of your exposed skin and sent shivers through you.

He sought the answer to a question that plagued his unsettled mind, rendering him incapable of thinking about anything else for the duration of your time here, and at the base of your tongue, the answer evades him: Your lips were as soft and divine as he conceived, and you tasted sweeter than any honey he’s ever had, making him smile against the orient pearl bone of your teeth. 

You pulled away, and his lips grew cold at your abrupt absence, “It’s late. Could you escort me back to my chambers?” You said against his mouth, words coated with a heavy implication.

His lips curled into another grin, “Of course.”

Arm looped around his as you were led into the Keep, where shadows draped against the narrow halls and slowly fell onto you. The silence was a symphony until your footfalls quick and sure echoed the halls akin to the beating of one’s heart. 

When you reached the door, he wasted no time, drawing you close, the warmth of his body enveloping you as he reconnected his lips to yours with a fierce intensity. In that moment of pure, unbridled passion, you both shared the same thought: I don’t want this to end. 

You craved each other, he was doubtless of it as you pulled him into your chambers with deafening haste, and once the door had shut, his hands moved with purpose, and your dress descended to the floor. You clumsily fiddled with his armor, removing the burdensome weight of his duties. 

With your bare bodies exposed to the night’s air, he propped you against the wall, and you wrapped your legs tightly around his waist, never breaking the burning, sinful kiss. Your fingers entwined with his flaxen hair, and a carnal desire had curled its way through his veins, clogging his marrow and taking over him entirely. His kisses were rough and possessive as he moved to your neck, and you sighed those pretty, sensuous moans he tended to find himself imagining, yet they could never compare to how you sounded now. 

He carried you with ease, and the gentle river of bed sheets, brightened by the pale moonlight, creased as he lay you upon the bed and gazed at your flushed cheeks and half-lidded eyes, with your legs parted for him and him only. You were utterly remarkable, sculpted by The Seven themselves; and he briefly wondered if he was even worthy of your love, for his perceived flaws over the years tainted him, and the gold hand fitted on his arm reminded him of it.

Your eyes gleamed up at him with sincerity and love, not a trace of judgment or distaste. It was louder than his doubts and beckoned him.

He pressed his weight on you and planted seeds of sloppy kisses, starting from your mouth, and down to the cleft between your thighs. Your sighs were heavenly when his mouth met where you wanted him most, and he relished in your taste as his generous tongue performed a rhythmic undulation. You lifted your hips, pushing into his mouth, and further parting your legs to provide him better access, and when he heard whispers of his name fall from your lips like it was the only word you’ve ever known, it swept over him, defeating any worries he harbored.

His name floated in the air, and he felt you tremble and wither as he licked your sensitive flesh. A blissful wave had overcome you, your chest rising and lowering. It was nothing you had ever experienced, and you desperately wanted to feel it repeatedly.

He returns to your mouth once more, allowing you to taste yourself on his lips. His fingers traced over your thighs before lifting your leg from your knee, leaving you completely accessible to him. You hummed when he placed himself inside you with much need, movements starting slow and soon quickening, desperate to let out the build-up of his release in you. Your hands clutched at his back, nails ever so slightly indenting crescents into his skin as you felt his cock grazing the spot that ached for him. He moved away to stare into your eyes, admiring you for a moment your eyes brimming with love and lips parted, trying your best to stay silent and not draw attention to your chambers if anyone walked by. Still, the effort was futile as your moans fluttered out of your throat.

He moved to your ear languidly and spoke breathless words. “Tell me… Tell me I’m yours and only yours.” The tension in your abdomen tightened at his gentle demand, and a weak smile pressed against your ear as you did as you were told.

You couldn’t contain it any longer, and you came hard and sweet beneath him. He soon followed, a soft, low groan escaping his chest, and his thrusts slowed as your breaths intermingled in the room of meager light, slowly coming back to awareness. You and him never wanted the Gods to let it be forgotten, and you remained in each others’ arms until the night turned day.

–

In the early morning, sunlight swept away the dust of stars, and you were awakened by a lightness in the bed and a chill to your body that wasn’t there during the night. A sullenness burdened your heart when you twisted to an empty side, but soon diminished and was replaced by a warmness at what had been placed on the pillow, leading you to replay the unforgettable event that occurred in the night.

A single rose.

[vxsellie]

‧₊˚┊simple living things﹗

a hunger games!au ellie williams fanfiction.⌇ 𝔠𝔥𝔞𝔭 𝔦

summary. reaping day. something ellie is rather indifferent towards, wanting only to return back to the warm embrace of nature. meanwhile you're the complete opposite, today being one that'll determine your fate, as well as your placement in your family. this chapter follows the alternate experiences that the two of you go through.

content warnings. depictions of dead animals, domestic abuse, implications of slavery (avoxes). if you see anything else that i missed, pls let me know!

total wc. 10,815

notes!! she's here!!! chapter one of this beauty!!! i've proofread this at least fifty times and i'm still not happy with it, but! here's the reminder that this fic is formatted and meant for ao3, not tumblr (hence why it's so goddamn long). anyway, i advise you read it there rather than here for that reason. it's updated sooner and i actually make sure that it's intelligible. the link is right here ↓

𝜗𝜚 series masterlist ⸝⸝ playlist ⸝⸝ ao3 𝜗𝜚

11:46.

DISTRICT SEVEN.

“Again?” Ellie’s groggy cavil is muffled against the crook of Cat’s neck. Her freckled face is buried into the warmth of the woman’s bare skin, chasing the comfort her proximity provides.

Cat huffs an airy laugh, her fingers absentmindedly running along an auburn scalp. “We’ve gone over this.”

“Yeah, but,” Ellie props up on her elbows to frown at her, “You went last year.”

“It’s a good thing if they’re asking me to attend again, Ellie.” Cat reminds her as she’s done at least fifty times by now. Despite her dwindling patience, Cat’s eyes are filled with naught but fondness as they clash with a pair of viridescent irises. Ellie continues to frown at her, adamant in her show of defiance. Cat continues to fiddle with her choppy hair as she speaks. “The Capitol is extremely picky with their stylists. It’s an honor to work for them, not to mention being chosen by them.”

Ellie has to swallow back the words that crawl up her throat and threaten to spill. Words of which vocalize her personal repugnance for the Capitol. She and Cat have gotten into plenty of fights regarding this topic and she refuses to cause another — especially considering the news she’s been trying to avoid facing all morning.

“I won’t see you for, like, a month.” Ellie grumbles before flopping back down onto Cat’s chest. She turns her head so her ear is pressed against her ribs, the gentle thudding of Cat’s heartbeat almost soothing enough to distract her from the world that envelops them.

Their bare bodies are pressed flush together as Ellie continues to listen to the repetition of her palpitating organ. She can feel Cat’s fingers toying with her hair, the soft caresses providing a sense of calamity. Her chest rises and falls, Ellie’s head shifting alongside each breath she takes. The intimacy it takes for to be near someone in this way — especially for Ellie — is oftentimes overlooked and seen only as crude or lustrous. However, in this case, they’re simply enjoying one another’s presence. Nothing vulgar about it.

Oh how Ellie wishes she could stay like this forever. In this little oasis of solace she’s founded for herself. Waking with Cat in her bed whilst morning sunlight filters through the window and casts golden hues over hardwood flooring. It’s nigh impossible to imagine that in only a few hours they’ll be separated for an indefinite epoch as Cat is escorted off to the Capitol while Ellie remains here.

She shuts her eyes, arms tightening around Cat’s waist as she wishes to cherish what little time she has left with her. Cat doesn’t dare cease playing with her hair, delicate fingers toying with the strands. 

Comfortability, domesticity, safety. That’s what Ellie feels when she’s near Cat — like nothing in the whole world could reach her. Like they’ve left the horrors of their District and are now floating through the cosmos all alone. Just the two of them. Though she knows better than to voice that to Cat, having found out the hard way that she doesn’t feel the same.

What they have is impermanent, said Cat when Ellie questioned her on fidelity, it has to be, she’d said. Even now, Ellie is unsure what that was supposed to mean. But she didn’t pry any further, for fear of damaging the fragility of what relationship, or lack thereof, they’d formed. Ever since, Ellie has learned to keep her feelings locked away in a hidden corner of her mind, making sure they never come forth to have the dust blown away. 

“Ellie!”

They both jolt to attention as the bedroom door flies open, doorknob slamming against the thick wooden wall behind it. Ellie sits up and narrows her eyes at the perpetrator, only to roll them once she comes to realize who it is.

“What do you want, Riley?” Ellie grumbles, flopping back against Cat as Riley enters the room. 

“I want to know why you’re still in bed.” Riley responds, stepping over the clothes on the floor with an upturned lip. Half of them are Cat’s from the night prior. Riley seems to instantly realize this, likely because she’s known Ellie well enough to know that she doesn’t wear Capitol-made dresses. Riley puts her hands on her hips, frowning at her best friend who remains cuddled up against her– Cat. “The Reaping is today and you’re still in bed.”

“It’s in two hours.” Ellie is quick to point out.

“I don’t care if it’s in twenty hours, you’re getting out of bed.” She says, picking up Ellie’s discarded clothes from the floor and tossing them at her. They land where her legs are tangled with Cat’s underneath the thin plaid blanket that’s draped lazily atop them. Riley begins to walk out of the room with a pointed expression before calling over her shoulder, “Oh. And these are Marlene’s orders, by the way.” Then she shuts the door.

Ellie sighs heavily, not yet ready to get up. If anything, she cozies even closer against Cat’s bare chest as she once again listens to the comforting thumps of her heart.

“God, she’s so demanding.” Cat scoffs. “I don’t understand how you put up with her.”

“I barely can.” She responds, causing Cat’s eyes to widen at the unexpected concurrence. “But she’s taken care of me since I was a baby, I owe it to her.”

Cat’s initial shock instantly dissipates. “I don’t mean Marlene, Ellie. I’m talking about Riley.”

Ellie sighs once more, her lips thinning. She knows that Cat and Riley don’t exactly get along. Well. Okay, that’s a major understatement. They literally despise each other. In every aspect that Cat admires the Capitol, Riley loathes it. They butt heads all the time, only ever speaking when it’s absolutely necessary and, even then, it oftentimes ends up in fighting. Ellie tries her hardest to keep them as far apart as possible, hating when they speak ill of the other.

“I don’t want to talk about that right now.” She mutters, having to force herself to sit up. The plaid blanket falls from her shoulders, pooling around her waist. The cool air chills her and goosebumps instantly begin to adorn her fair skin. She quickly reaches to the foot of the bed to grab the clothes Riley had tossed her way. Cat remains in bed as Ellie stands to get dressed, pulling on a frayed hoodie and worn jeans. “I just don’t want to have to choose between you two, that’s all.”

As she laces her shoes, it’s hard not to take notice of Cat’s lack of response. Ellie lifts her head to see the frown that’s plastered onto her features, the sight of it causing her to sigh. She walks over to the bed, shoes lightly padding across the old wooden floor. She leans one hand on the mattress beside Cat’s head, her other coming up to lift her jaw. She presses a kiss to her lips.

“You know where I keep the key.” Ellie whispers, pulling back only slightly as her hand remains on Cat’s chin. “You can get back to sleep and leave whenever you want, yeah? You need rest.” 

Cat nods, “Okay.”

With one final kiss goodbye, Ellie leaves. On her way out the door, she grabs her backpack from under her desk, swinging it over her shoulder before shutting the door gently behind her. Not yet ready to part ways with Cat, she stands in the hall for a few long minutes, using this time to straighten out her thoughts. 

After the Reaping, Cat will be gone for an indefinite duration as the stylists are taken to the Training Center alongside the two tributes. Not to mention, if the opportunity is provided, she knows Cat wouldn’t hesitate to stay to live in the Capitol forever. And everyone knows how much they love her there. It’s truly a matter of time before she’s promoted to a full-time Capitolite. The mere thought sends a chill down her spine.

Ellie heaves a sigh, mentally cursing anything and everything that relates to their fucked up government before she turns to walk down the hall. Her shoes thud against the floor as she attempts to calm herself, the repetition of her stride mocking that of Cat’s heartbeat. Nigh tauntingly. 

Turning a corner, she spots Riley standing in the kitchen. Her back is facing her as she peers out the window at the passerbyers that straggle down the street. District seven isn’t usually this busy, most citizens at work by now. But it’s Reaping Day and therefore one of the few days of the year that everyone gets off work. Parents cater to their kids, teens get into mischief with their friends, pets are walked through the neighborhood. Though, regardless of how one’s morning is spent, everyone will be amassed in town square by two o’clock. If not, they’re to be imprisoned.

Ellie slows her movements, footsteps now inaudible before she jumps out at Riley, causing the other girl to shriek. She nearly drops the glass in her hands as she whips around to scowl at Ellie. “You scared me!” She reprimands her, frowning.

“Yeah,” Ellie laughs, “That was the whole point?”

Riley rolls her eyes at this. “Whatever.”

She leans forward to set the glass back on the counter, a light clink sounding throughout the space as she does so. Ellie had expected it to be a glass of water or some other form of drink. Instead, it’s a vase holding an array of flowers that Ellie has built the habit of collecting on their daily outings. At first, it annoyed Riley the way Ellie would stop whatever she was doing to pick a flower and stuff it between the pages of her journal. It would interrupt the flow of their expedition. Though, with time, she’s grown used to it and even finds herself taking notice of pretty flowers in Ellie’s absence.

“Are you finally ready to go?” Riley asks, turning back around to face her friend with her eyebrows raised. Ellie gestures down to herself — dressed and obviously ready. Riley chuckles, rolling her eyes fondly before brushing past her.

The two of them exit the small wooden home and begin their journey toward the treeline. Four buildings down, they pass Riley’s house. After graduation, they’d chosen this neighborhood due to its proximity to the woods and the fact that two houses were simultaneously for sale closeby. And here they are, three years later, still fleeing to the foliage every morning.

The low hum of conversation isn’t foreign to District seven, but it’s rather uncommon way out here. To get this type of commotion, you’d usually have to be closer to town where the markets are. That’s where most people spend their time, trading supplies. The circumstances aren’t nearly as dire as in District twelve, but they’re certainly not as wealthy as the Capitol. Starving to death here is rare, but not at all impossible. 

“So,” Riley speaks up after a few minutes of comfortable silence before turning to Ellie with a regaled expression, “You’re sleeping with Cat again?”

“I never stopped sleeping with her.” Ellie says pointedly. 

What she doesn’t say is, It’s just grown more common as you’ve grown more distant from me.

She sighs. “I’m not gonna give you shit for it because you already know how I feel about her. But I want to know, is she going to be a stylist again in this year's Games?”

“Ugh,” Ellie groans, “You know I’m not allowed to go around telling people. She’s technically not even supposed to tell me. We could be arrested for disclosing information about the Games prior to their airing. We could be made into Avox for it. And, I don’t know about you, but I quite like my tongue.”

“Yeah, so does Cat.” Riley adds with a disgusted expression.

Ellie laughs, slapping her in the arm. “Gross!”

“What’s gross is walking in on your best friend naked on top of some Capitolite.” She grumbles. 

“We weren’t even doing anything!” 

“Yeah, luckily!” She replies with a laugh before another repulsive thought dawns on her. “Oh, and you didn’t even lock the door!”

To that, Ellie has no excuse. “Well– Okay yeah, fine. That’s definitely on me.”

Riley grins at her victoriously as they continue down the sidewalk. The air is practically buzzing with activity. With naught else to occupy their time, the people of the lumber District naturally swarm toward the woods. It’s in their blood. Even more so for Ellie and Riley, who spend their mornings in the woods even when they should technically be applying for jobs.

Yeah, the two of them have received that lecture from Marlene more times than anyone could count — that they’re adults and should therefore be forming some sort of a career path before they’re rendered undesirably old to any future employers. But, unbeknownst to Marlene, the two of them do have a job. Perhaps not a formal one, but it’s enough to keep the bills paid and water running. And, to a pair of girls in their early twenties, that’s more than they could ask for.

See, Riley and Ellie have built a routine. One where they awake at dawn, meet up at Ellie’s house for breakfast, then walk to the woods and spend the following few hours there. They cut trees, chop wood, hunt animals, etc. Then, at noon, they head toward what’s known as the Hob — basically a black market for those desperate enough to trade their hard earned quarry for a bit of cash. It’s located inside an abandoned paper mill, packed full with hundreds of buyers meandering about the derelict space. Every District has their own version of a Hob, well, perhaps not the richer Districts, but twelve is sure to have a huge one that would make seven’s dull in comparison. That thought alone is enough to ease Ellie’s conscience whenever she feels guilty for the illegality behind her line of work. If any of the Peacekeepers in her District found out about the Hob, all participants are sure to be hanged or, at bare minimum, given a whipping — both of which would be public as to make an example of the persecutors. To imagine Ellie hanging from a noose or tied to a pole whilst everyone else watched, while Marlene watched? It makes her stomach churn. So, habitually, she simply ignores the lack of validity to her actions. Plus, there's no malice to her intentions. She’s just a young woman who wants to put food on the table. Is that so much to ask for? She thinks not.

Anyway. Riley and Ellie basically run that place. Everyone knows them there, recognizing the two women the instant they enter the mill. They always have the good shit — perfectly chopped wood alongside undamaged game — and are willing to be paid less than others because they tend to have a higher quantity and manage to amass a large sum in spite of their lowered payment. However, seeing as everyone is off work today, it’s rather awkward to see the people of the Hob out on the streets. Because they all know better than to acknowledge the illegal trading they participate in religiously. 

Ellie walks silently beside Riley, the unspoken tension in the air doubling in size whenever they recognize someone. The Peacekeepers are large in aggregate today as well, managing to make this impossibly more nerve wracking. The town square is packed full with Capitolites who are setting up for the Reaping, hence everyone now on this side of the District as they look for something to busy themselves with. And, as said before, the woods are evidently everyone’s collective first choice.

“You nervous?” Riley asks as they enter the woods, the familiar scent of pine and dirt wafting toward them. The air is chilly, yet not unbearably so. It’s a nice medium that Ellie finds herself enjoying. She turns, raising a brow in inquiry. Riley digresses, “For the Reaping.”

She shrugs, “Not really. The Hunger Games are morbid, yeah, but they’re a fact of life. If I get Reaped, what good will it do to have worried about it that morning? I feel that fate is predetermined. Whatever happens, you can’t change it so you might as well live regularly until it’s foisted upon you.”

“Um, wow?” Riley gives her a peculiar look. “Since when did you get all philosophical?”

Ellie huffs a laugh, “I’m just saying.”

“I agree that the Games are morbid.” Riley shakes her head with a sigh, dry leaves crunching under their feet as they trek further into the woods. “But why should we have to live in fear while those in the Capitol live in ignorant bliss? It’s immoral and dehumanizing.”

Ellie agrees with her, of course, though she finds herself glancing over their shoulder fretfully before turning to frown at her friend. “Be quiet, Riley. Peacekeepers are fucking everywhere today.”

“Yeah, yeah.” She huffs. “But I mean it.”

“Yes, I know you mean it.” Ellie rolls her eyes. “And I mean it when I say I don’t want to see you punished for your brutal honesty. Truly, it’ll be the death of you.”

Riley laughs before they fall into another comfortable silence. 

Despite the wordlessness being one of easement, it’s foreign to them both. As of late, Riley has been progressively growing more and more distant, causing an awkward rift between the pair. They still go about their usual routines each day and share moments of fond laughter, but it’s different. Only a few months ago, there’d not be a single second of silence as the two would oftentimes end up talking over the other in a coveted rush to share random information. Even after a day’s work had finished, they’d frequently wind up at one of their houses for the night — watching television, feasting on game, or just sharing the space. It got to the point where it was more rare to be without the other than with them.

But now, Ellie feels as though they spend more time in silence than in conversation. Take present for example. Had this happened in July, one of them would undoubtedly be rambling on about something. Though, as it turns out, that’s not currently the case.

Ellie has yet to bring it up to Riley, fearing she’ll say something she’s not ready to hear. She hasn’t even a guess in her mind what could have brought this upon them, but whatever it is, it’s drastic. Hence why she’s recently been hanging around Cat more often, using the woman to both distract herself from her childlike friendship issues as well as make herself feel better. Because Cat always knows how to comfort Ellie, even when she’s not entirely aware of what the problem is.

They continue to walk through the woods, their footsteps nigh inaudible as they’ve grown skilled at adapting to nature. After a few minutes of trekking through the foliage, Riley stops and turns around expectantly. Ellie instantly removes her backpack and crouches to the ground as she sifts through it. She pulls out an axe — which barely even fits inside the bag — and passes it to Riley, who takes it gratefully. Ellie then hands the bag to Riley, who positions it on her back with a few shoulder shrugs.

Where they stopped wasn’t randomized, though. Not entirely. Because, a few yards away is a fallen tree, hollowed out in the center to create a tunnel-like log. They walk over to it, Riley tossing the axe back and forth between her hands. Ellie crouches down and reaches into the log, feeling around the dampened bark until her fingers brush against the coveted items. She pulls out a bow and quiver, adding them to her newly emptied shoulders. 

See, they can’t exactly be caught carrying weapons through the District or the Peacekeepers will know they’re hunting illegally. So, as an alternative, they hide the weapons deep in the woods where nobody else would think to look. Fairly smart on their part, Ellie thinks.

“So,” Ellie muses as they begin walking through the woods once more, “This morning, you said you woke me under Marlene’s orders. What exactly did she say?”

“I talked to her last night.” She explains, swinging the axe back and forth. Had Ellie not done this with her a million times before, she’d likely be fearing for her life. But that axe is quite literally an extension of Riley’s arm, moving as though it’s a part of her. It's, admittedly, rather impressive. “She told me to make sure you’re awake at least an hour prior to the Reaping.”

“Ugh, she doesn’t trust me to do anything.”

“Can you blame her?” She laughs. “You were nearly late to the Reaping last year. Had you arrived less than five minutes after you had, the Peacekeepers would have placed you under arrest.”

“I think my timing was impeccable.” Ellie argues, pointing her chin up in an act of superiority. 

As she does, something in the trees catches her eye and she suddenly stops in her tracks, Riley quick to do the same. She nocks an arrow, the head instantly pointed in the direction of the movement. After a few seconds of tense silence, a squirrel chitters before ignorantly traipsing across the branch. She releases the arrow and it lands right in its eye, so as not to damage the meat. It hits the ground with a thud. Ellie grins widely as she walks to retrieve the corpse as well as the arrow.

“Talk about timing.” Riley whistles, following close behind.

“What did I say?” She responds, positioning the squirrel to hang from her belt. “Impeccable.”

“Yeah, maybe in terms of your aim, but not in your vigilance.” Riley points out.

“Whatever.” Ellie waves her hand to dismiss the accusation. “Shut up and go chop your wood.”

Riley laughs but obliges, turning to leave the scene. Ellie can’t even listen to her footsteps depart, as she’s rather adept at masking their boistry. But she can tell when she’s gone, though, because the atmosphere alters — shifting from one shared between lifelong friends to one of solitude in the middle of nowhere. And yet, despite the latter being far less preferred by many, Ellie relishes in it. The lack of eyes on her is comforting rather than eerie. 

She treks through the trees until she finds a slightly elevated patch of land, allowing her to look down on the forest below her — though, only by a couple feet. But any altitude is better than nothing. She crouches behind a bush and nocks a second arrow, waiting for something to pass by.

Ellie manages to shoot a few more squirrels and a couple of rabbits throughout the following hour they spend in the woods. She then lets out a three-note whistle as she stands to her feet. She’s brushing off her jeans when the same whistles tune is repeated back to her a few hundred yards to the East. Riley. 

They’d come up with this tactic a few years back, where once one of them had finished up for the day, they let out a whistle to let the other know of their completion. Then, if the sound reaches the other, they’ll return it.

They split up like this because Ellie requires quiet in order to hunt whereas Riley tends to make quite a bit of ruckus during her wood-chopping. Ellie’s still gathering her things when a twig snaps a few feet away. She doesn't need to look up to know who it is.

“What’d you catch?” Riley asks as she approaches her from behind.

“Nothing good.” She admits. “Just squirrels and rabbits.”

“That’s not bad, though.” 

“Yeah, animals are so scarce today due to all the people’s proximity to the treeline. I could sometimes catch the sound of their talking. Even from way out here.” Ellie says as she finishes packing up and turns to face Riley, who’s holding an armful of chopped wood. “Here, turn around.”

Without question, Riley does. Ellie unzips the bag and holds out a hand for a piece of wood. Riley passes it back to her and she loads the wood one-by-one into the pack. She then adds the axe and zips it — well, partially. A few inches of the handle remains sticking out, though it’s doubtful anyone will question the contents of the bag. Not when so much is going on today.

They head back to the mouth of the woods, making sure to return the bow and quiver into the hollowed log on their way by. In minutes, they’re emerging from the trees and walking back through the streets, which appear to have grown even busier in their absence. They’d walked in silence the entire way.

“Welp.” Riley says once they’ve reached Ellie’s porch and she’s returned the bag — which has tripled in weight with the addition of the axe and wood. “See you at the Reaping?”

She sighs dramatically, “I guess so. Not like I want to go anyway.”

“Marlene would fucking kill you.” Riley laughs and Ellie joins in, imagining the enraged expression on Marlene’s face had she not shown up. She couldn't get away with it regardless, though. Riley was right when she said the Peacekeepers would either imprison or hang her. It’s happened to someone before — an old man ripped from his home and put in an icy cold cell for the rest of his short life. He’d apparently used the excuse of saying he was in a wheelchair, but that wasn't enough for the District’s law enforcement as they claimed he could easily be wheeled to the square. So, yeah, maybe the jokes of Ellie not showing up shouldn’t be pondered on but so much.

Once Riley has left, Ellie grabs her key from the top of a nearby windowsill. She notices that it’d moved a few inches to the left. Cat. She unlocks the door and enters her home, almost screaming to see the silhouette of a woman standing in her kitchen. Though she quickly regains normalcy when she recognizes the person’s frame.

“Fuck, Marlene.” She curses, putting a hand to her chest as she — as subtly as possible — slips the bag from her shoulders and places it on the floor next to the door. “You scared me.”

Marlene is wearing a dress, a nice one. The neck is in a deep V shape that shows off her collarbones and shoulders. The sleeves come to her elbows, the skirt to her mid-calves. It’s a soft maroon color, complimenting her dark skin and brown eyes beautifully. Ellie would accolade her for it had she not known it was for the Reaping and thereby the Capitol. However, being aware of that fact rather mars the beauty of her accentuated appearance.

Marlene turns to face her with a frown, “What were you two doing?”

“Seriously?” Ellie groans, walking over to grab a glass cup from the cabinet over Marlene’s head, having to shift around her to do so. “I was hanging out with my best friend before we witness two people being shipped off to die. Do I truly have to walk you step-by-step through everything I do?”

“Yes.” She begins filling the cup with faucet water, Marlene looming like a shadow over her shoulder. When Ellie doesn’t respond, she frowns. “Whatever. I don’t even care what you guys were doing, I just seek the consolation of knowing it was safe.”

“I’m an adult, Marlene. When will you–”

“Was it safe, Ellie?” She repeats, tone growing more agitated. 

“Yes.” She replies, the lie coming easy to her now. After all this time of being untruthful, it’s nearly second nature to withhold the truth from her mother-figure whenever she’s pestered on this recurring topic. She has a great poker face, too.

 She raises her brows as she takes a sip from her glass, peering at her from over the rim.

“Was it legal?” She questions and Ellie nearly spits out her water. Marlene scoffs at her reaction. “Okay, so I got my answer.”

“I didn’t even say anything!”

“You didn’t need to!” She crosses her arms and gives Ellie that disapproving mom expression that could make anybody feel remorse. Ellie places her glass on the counter and holds her gaze, trying her hardest not to falter under it. “I assume you saw how many Peacekeepers are here, Ellie.”

“I’d be an idiot to not notice them.” She grumbles defiantly, sounding far more childlike than she’d care to admit. Marlene always manages to bring this side out of her — a scorned child who has no choice but to agree with everything she says. Despite how hard she tries to be mature and release herself from Marlene’s iron fist, it’s so far been proven impossible.

“So what were you thinking? I don’t care for the details of what you guys go out doing everyday so long as it’s legal.” She says. “You know that. It’s one of my only rules for you.”

The acknowledgement of their daily repetition is enough for Ellie to stiffen, not having realised Marlene even noticed their outings. However, now that she’s thinking of it, it makes sense. They've been doing this same routine for three years now. You’d have to be a fool to not notice. And Marlene is no fool.

“I know, I just–”

She pinches the bridge of her nose, cutting Ellie off with a sigh. “Just go wash up. I don’t want you smelling like a dead animal for the Reaping.”

The closeness in her comparison of the miasma to a corpse is nigh to laughable. Except it’s not. Because Marlene is unnerving. She cares for Ellie more than anything, yes, but she’s absolutely terrifying in her vehement need to protect her. 

But Ellie is an adult now. She doesn’t need protection.

Despite this, she follows her orders and trudges off to the bathroom, making sure to scoop up her backpack on her way down the hall.

She discards the bag of wood and lays the dead squirrel and rabbit corpses out on her bedroom floor. Normally, she’d place them in the kitchen to ready them for gutting but that’s, clearly, not a viable option. If Marlene were to see the quarry from their expedition, she’d absolutely lose her head. First, she’d force Ellie and Riley to get a job, and likely a boring one. She’d forbid them from using the forest for income. And, in those two short acts of discipline, Ellie’s life would be over. The woods are her home; her place of solace. Without it, who is she?

She then heads into the bathroom and takes a bath, scrubbing all the dirt and grime from her skin before redressing into something a bit more fancy — though it’s definitely not Capitol material as everyone else typically aims for. She’s simply wearing a nicer pair of jeans and a flannel. The collar and buttons make it fancy. Kinda.

When she returns to the kitchen, she’s still drying her hair with the towel. Marlene looks her up and down and frowns, though she says nothing. 

See, if one is Reaped today, they’re taken to the Capitol. As such, they’re traditionally expected to wear their nicest clothes to the Reaping, just in case their name is drawn. But Ellie cares naught to make any lasting impressions on the Capitol, so she doesn’t give a shit what she wears. The sole reason she’s wearing even a button up is to please Marlene enough so she’s not forced into something else. 

Because, when she was fourteen, she tried to wear a t-shirt to the Reaping and was instantly reprimanded. As punishment, she had to wear something Marlene picked out. Needless to say, never again will she do that. Even now Riley laughs at her for the outfit, though Marlene insists it was the most distinguished Ellie had ever looked. She begs to differ.

“Okay, you ready?” Marlene asks.

Ellie shrugs, “Yeah.”

They head down to the square, the entirety of District seven doing the same. The waves of people grow larger and larger the closer they get to the square until it’s practically a tsunami of them. Once they reach their destination, they pause and turn to each other. Marlene looks down at Ellie, a glint of something unreadable behind her gaze, almost as though she wishes to say something to her prior to parting ways. But instead of voicing whatever it is that’s weighing on her, she just pats her shoulder and walks away.

The crowd is sorted by generation. Everyone between the ages of twelve and fifty are required to be within the crowd as their names are among those able to be Reaped. The younger kids are positioned closest to the stage whilst the older crowd is near the back. Ellie stands with her age group, picking at the peeling skin around her nails as she awaits the ceremony’s exordium. 

The stage before them has been added purely for the Reaping, as it’s not usually present. Atop it resides a podium, a table with a bowl of tiny slips of papers, and three chairs at the back of the stage — one for the District’s mayor, one for the escort, and one for the mentor of this year’s tributes. Camera crews are perched like buzzards atop the neighboring buildings, readying themselves to document the coming show. Each District is going through the exact same procedure. Tonight, each footage will be broadcasted across all televisions in the country.

About twenty more minutes pass, the square growing supplementarily crowded with each passing second. When the clock strikes twelve, three people are in their corresponding chairs. Ellie hadn’t even noticed their arrival. 

The mayor, whose name she doesn’t know despite having heard it repeated throughout her entire life, sits in the far right chair, his jaw set as he overlooks the citizens. The District escort resides in the center chair, a Capitol woman with bright blue hair and a smile that’s so pearly white that it’s almost inhuman — Ellie doesn’t know her name either. The only person whose name she’s sure of is the man sitting in the left chair. That’s Joel Miller. The victor of the 56th Games. Word is, he’s not a pleasant man. Though, Ellie supposes no sane victor would be. Returning from a murderous arena after all other twenty-three tributes have fallen must be the emptiest feeling known to man. She has a deep respect for Joel, despite never having properly met him.

The mayor steps up to the podium and begins reading off his script. The story of how their country came to be. Ellie tunes it out, instead glancing around the crowd for Cat. It takes her an embarrassingly long time before she remembers that she’s absent from the ceremony due to her being the District seven stylist this year. Ellie turns back to the stage just as the escort steps up to the podium.

“Happy Hunger Games!” Says she. “And may the odds be ever in your favor!” 

The slogan has grown old and worn out by now, everyone having heard it an indefinite quantity of times. Ellie wouldn’t be surprised if she mumbles it in her sleep. 

Once more, she finds herself tuning out the rest of the woman’s speech. Despite her lack of listening not resulting in anything beneficial, it makes her feel better. Like she’s showing the Capitol that they don’t control her. Not like the Capitol gives a fuck if one measley twenty-one year old is tuning out the speeches. But whatever. It makes her feel ameliorated and that’s all that matters.

“Here we go.” The escort says before diving her hand into the bowl of names. The glass sphere is packed full with slips of paper, each one reading a citizen’s name. The entire square is holding their breath as they await the name. The entire country is — as every District is being Reaped at the same time. The woman pulls a slip of paper from the bowl and reads it aloud with a grin. “Riley Abel.”

Ellie’s heart drops to her stomach, body frozen in place as the name is spoken. The world feels far away as she watches Riley walk up the stage and stand beside the escort. Riley’s chin is held high, her eyes dullened; they lack the vibrancy that Ellie adores so much. She’s the epitome of strength, standing on that stage as she’s set to be broadcasted across the entire country. 

Ellie knows that expression though. Riley isn’t sad or mourning. She’s pissed.

Fuck. She should have done something. But it all happened so fast. And now the escort’s hand is diving right back into the bowl for a second tribute.

“Aaaand,” She sing-songs before lifting her head joyously, “Ellie Williams.”

11:46.

DISTRICT 4.

“Again.” Your mother’s tone is sharp as a dagger as she thumps the end of her cane against tiled flooring, demanding more, more, more from you. Her voice is tinny, filed through an intercom overhead. To your left is a one-way mirror that scales the entire 20ft wall, through which she pedantically watches your every movement. Though you’re unable to see her, she sees you. And that fact in itself is enough to make you vigilent.

Sweat coats your skin as you reposition yourself, squaring your shoulders and planting your feet in preparation. Your expression is hardened, purposefully so under your mother’s gaze. Her scrupulousness is nigh to tangible, made palpable by the heavy weight on your shoulders, the stiffness in your muscles, the tell-tale feel of her eyes scanning you. 

Then, in a flash of flickering blue, holographic opponents begin to charge at you. These humanoid figures are translucent in visibility, but their hits land just as genuinely in spite of their pellucidity. You’ve been fighting them all morning — another cause of the fatigue in your bones.

A few sessions prior, you’d been permitted the use of weapons. Your mother had instructed you to train with each one interchangeably. She wished to see which you were best and worst at — which ended up being throwing daggers and a trident, respectively. The daggers allow you close-combat, which you’re rather skilled at, as a product of these training sessions, whereas the trident’s weight is off balanced and leaves you fumbling with it for a few seconds prior to use. She soon grew bored with the weapons, though, and instructed you to fight bare handedly. Just to be sure you can. 

There are currently three holograms presented to you — one with a burly build, one with a dainty build, and one that resides between the two. 

The muscular opponent is the first to strike, swinging a right hook toward your jaw. You dodge it, ducking easily under its arm. Whilst straightening back up, the smaller figure grabs you by the hair. Your head is yanked backward. You whip around, snatching the figure by the wrist and throwing its body over your head onto the floor. It lands with a hard thud before you bring the heel of your boot down onto its throat. With a light puff of air, the hologram disintegrates.

One down, two left.

Without a moment’s pause, you spin around to face the other two diaphanous forms. The intermediate combatant surges forward, arm reeled back in preparation for a punch. You swerve out of its way, the figure staggering forward as it misses you by a mere three inches. You kick it in the back of the legs, sending the hologram on its knees. You’re positioned behind it, pulling it into a headlock. 

The sounds it makes is eerily human as it coughs and sputters, blue fingers grasping with desperation at your forearm. You’re used to this though, the cruel personification behind these lifeless things. You snap its neck with a deafening crack. It disappears.

Two down, one left.

When you turn around, the burly one is already behind you. It’s at least three times your size, but you’re undeterred. You stand upright and ready your fists. 

With a grunt, it charges toward you. You sidestep, but it anticipates this and turns in unison. You back away, putting yourself out of reach, your arms coming up to block your face. It swings and you duck subsequently. While crouched, you grab its left calf and pull, lifting the leg uncomfortably high. The oversized figure hops awkwardly on its right limb. You then hook your foot behind the ankle of the remaining leg it’s balancing on, sending it plummeting toward the ground. 

You’re quick to position yourself atop it, straddling the hologram’s chest. It thrashes beneath you, squirming around like a trapped insect. It’s only a matter of time before it throws you aside due to uneven weight advantages. But you had surprised it and therefore withhold the ascendancy. So, while you still have the upper hand, you lift your leg and drive your knees into its neck. With a gag, the hologram vanishes.

Done.

Your chest aches with exertion, lungs fighting for air as you pant. As such, you remain with your knees on the black matted floor in an attempt to catch your breath. You’ve been killing these things on repeat for the past three hours, your mother having woken you at seven in the morning to train. 

Frayed hair clings to dampened skin as sweat traces lines down your face. It drips from your chin onto the floor beneath you. Your pants and tank top are soaked, causing you to feel gross and sticky. You yearn for a shower.

You oftentimes have to remind yourself that your mother means well, that she’s pushing you so hard because she cares. But, at times like these — where your body is on the verge of collapse — you find yourself questioning her morality.

“You’re getting slow.” Comes her voice through the speaker system, as though on cue with your thoughts. A tap of her cane against the floor is heard prior to that singular word you dread so vehemently. 

“Again.”

It's truly no shock that you’re growing amble considering how long you’ve been at it. But to protest your mother’s orders would be a death wish. You’re still catching your breath as you push yourself to your feet, fully expecting another hoard of holograms to appear. 

Though, in their stead, a spear materializes before you. It’s equally as holographic as the figures you’re fighting, blue and crackling, but it kills them just as viable as you would.

As you lean over to pick it up, something kicks you hard in the base of your back. The force of impact sends you to the floor. Your elbows take the brunt of your fall, causing you to feel rather grateful for the mat. Still in a heap, you whip to face the perpetrator. A hologram; a singular female figure with a lean build. 

You should’ve known better than to let your guard down.

You glance at the spear concurrently, the weapon lying at a perfect distance between you two. Without vacillation, you hurriedly crawl toward it. The figure notices and kicks you hard in the face, its shoe slamming into the bridge of your nose. You land hard on your back as a wave of pain shoots through you, warm liquid tracing down your face. 

By the time you regain your sense, the hologram is thrusting the stolen weapon toward you. You roll out of its way, though the blade manages to slice your bicep. With a reverberated thud, the spearhead burrows into the mat where your head had just been.

You push to your feet, tugging the spear out of the cushioned floor. Now armed, you turn to the hologram. It doesn’t have a face but if it did, you’re sure it’d be glaring at you. The two of you circle one another like vultures, the hologram waiting for you to attack whilst you wait for the perfect angle. Then, once you’re positioned to your liking, you strike. You throw the spear at the diaphanous form. 

The blade whizzes through the air too fast for it to dodge, too fast for anyone to dodge. Your aim is undeniably precise as the point wedges right between your opponents eyes. With that, it disintegrates alongside the spear.

Even once the combatant has elapsed, you remain in that position — chest heaving, brows furrows, fists balled. A metallic taste fills your mouth as your nose continues to bleed down your face, getting past your lips. Your bicep mocks it, crimson tracing down your arm.

You await your mother’s reprimand via the intercom. Instead, you hear the door click open and her cane tap against the floor with every other step. She remains in the doorway, not wishing to enter the abhorrent room. She stands expectantly until you walk up to her.

“Your fatigue impairs your ability to fight.” She tuts, wrinkled lip upturned in distaste. You don’t respond, lowering your head as you wordlessly accept her criticism. “Had you been in the arena and those figures sentient, you’d likely have been long gone. Debility is no excuse for inadequacy. L/ns don’t lose.”

You nod, knowing better than to defend yourself.

She goes through each of your performances, telling you how every one was worse than the last. A few times, she mentions your brother, comparing the two of you in a way that makes your chest cave. Ruben wouldn’t have gotten his arm cut, Ruben wouldn’t have had his hair pulled, Ruben wouldn’t have hesitated when she added a child hologram into the mix.

Once she’s had her fill of castigation, she waves a hand to dismiss you. 

Your first course of action is to shower. Since your mother woke you so early, you were unable to change or eat prior to training. You enter the bathroom, peeling your sweaty clothes from your skin before stepping into the cool water. Your presence tints the liquid pink with blood as your arm and face stain its cleanliness.

You stand in the shower for a long time, relishing in the feel of the water as you allow your mind to roam. Though, despite how hard you try not to think of it, your thoughts continuously lapse back to your mother’s ceaseless mentions of your brother, her favored child.

See, Ruben won the 67th Hunger Games when he was only thirteen years old, becoming a legend in the Capitol and the light of your parents’ lives. He is the Capitol’s favorite victor, deemed the most attractive man in the country. Anyone would die to get a moment of his time, of his attention. People who the Capitol favor, idolize, and center their entire lives around are known as a ‘Capitol Diamond’. And Ruben is the shiniest of them all.

Your father won his Games two years prior to Ruben when you were only six, so you never knew him all that well. The memories you do have of him are rather bitter, invoking flashes of flailing fists and deafening shouts. Though, acting as a warm blanket to the chill of your father’s acerbity, Ruben appears in your memories like a deity. He’d cover your ears when your parents’ shouting bounced off the marble walls; he’d argue with your father whenever he’d hit you for breaking something trivial; he’d always take your side, even if you did technically break that vase. As a child, Ruben was an angel sent from above. But, now that you’re older, you know better than to deem him as such.

Anyway. Ruben and your father’s triumphs earned them both irrevocable places in the Capitol as diamonds as well as homes in District four’s Victor’s Village — leaving you and your mother to live alone in the house of which you were raised. In fact, your entire lineage is among the victors, aunts and uncles and cousins all diamonds of the Capitol and residents of the village. Well, most of them. Some of your relatives moved to higher Districts after their Games, seeking as much proximity to the Capitol as possible.

A L/n has never lost the Games, not in the entire seventy-three years they’ve been running. The mere thought of someone in your family failing to prevail is something unprecedented. 

You step out of the shower and wrap yourself into a towel, grabbing a suture kit from the cabinet under the sink. You pop it open and sit on the closed toilet seat before threading the needle. You’ve stitched yourself up plenty of times, the damned holograms annoyingly good at what they’re made to do — challenge you. 

By the time you’ve finished and your bicep is newly adorned in neat stitching, it’s one o’clock. You only have a short bit of time before the Reaping. As you put the kit back into the cabinet, a second thought dawns on you. 

Fuck! You think, eyes widening almost comically. Mister Alden will be here in ten minutes.

You tighten your towel around your body before padding down the hall to your bedroom. It’s overlarge, making you feel small. The walls are white with golden mouldings, the floors are made of marble tiles. To some, your family’s mansion would be a dream come true. Though, to you, it feels more like a prison than a home. It has ever since your brother left.

Your mother had an Avox lay your Reaping outfit out on your bed. It’s blue — as most clothing made for District Four is. It’s made of a deep navy satin, jewels embedded into the fabric. It’s absolutely gorgeous and you hate it.

Though, your personal thoughts on clothing matter naught. You once tried arguing with your mother on how extravagant your clothes were, saying it was ridiculous when people in lower Districts struggle for food. That comment earned you a week with minimal food. She said that if you pitied the peasants so greatly, she’d gladly treat you like one, claiming empathy to be far more valuable than sympathy. You’d never made another comment on your clothes again after that.

Though, you both knew her anger was rooted far deeper than your mere clothing preference. It was rooted in the underlying criticism you’d made in regards to the governing of your country — the unfair hierarchy of Districts. You never made a political comment after that, either. Not aloud anyway.

You pull the dress on, something symbolic always laced within the act of holding your tongue. 

Each curve and stitch is made specifically for your body, fitting perfectly. Trading fish in this gown will make for an odd sight, but you haven’t a choice. Mister Alden should be here any minute and the Reaping begins in less than an hour; multitasking is your only option.

The halls are just as pristine as your bedroom, walls decorated with fine art and the tile floor kept sparkling. Thanks to the unpaid Avoxes — which are former criminals whose punishments are to be made into servants for the Capitol. You live in the Districts, but your family is so cherished by Capitolites that you’re permitted to have an abundance of your own servants. Despite the fact that your mansion is tended to by over twenty Avoxes, you’ve never spoken to a single one. Not due to your own ignorance, but because their tongues are removed and they’re unable to speak.

One of them holds the door open for you on your journey out to the docks. You thank him shortly, though he doesn’t respond. 

Your house is beachfront, back porch providing a wooden path down to your own private piling dock. It’s unnecessarily fancy for your mother to inherit — who just happened to marry into a wealthy family — and you, who hasn’t even become a victor yet. And, if you’re never Reaped, you’ll have never deserved an ounce of what’s been given to you.

The path to the dock is a downward slope. Your house is built on a rocky cliff, hence the path’s existence. You hike your dress up as you rush down the wooden trail, though as soon as you do, you hear your mother’s past lectures ring through your head. “Never above the ankles!” She’d once said, slapping your hand with a stick to force you to drop the dress. Instinctively, you lower it.

You walk down to the dock, happy to see that it’s empty, Mister Alden not having yet arrived. Though, once you’ve reached the end of it, you hear the low hum of his boat’s motor putting through the salty water. He coasts up to the wooden structure. You reach out to catch him as the motor comes to a halt.

His boat is small, just big enough for one man to fit in. It’s made of metal with only one seat at the helm, situated beside the tilling outboard. 

Your family has bought from mister Alden all your life. When you were a kid and it was Ruben’s job to retrieve the fish, you would traipse behind him. You’d hobble behind him, small legs having to run in order to keep up with your elder brother's long gait. Then, once at the dock, you were rendered useless. You’d peer over mister Alden’s boat, nosily searching his belongings. You watched as Ruben would speak to mister Alden shortly, pay him graciously, hoist the net of seafood over his shoulder, then head back inside. Due to this, mister Alden watched you grow more than your own father had. And even though his presence is short and biweekly, you know the old man rather well.

Well enough to know that he has three grandkids and the oldest of them is a twelve year old girl whose first ever Reaping is today. 

“Oh, what a lovely outfit.” He smiles, crows feet creasing. He remains seated as you moor the boat to the cleats. The metal is so hot from endless days spent in the sun that it burns your hands at the touch. You don’t dare wince, knowing how fast mister Alden would rush to your aid. You’re sure he has enough on his plate what with his granddaughter. “I can carry the fish inside, if you’d like. Wouldn’t want you staining such a stunning dress.”

“It’s okay.” You’re quick to assure him, offering your hand to help him out of the boat once it’s tied off. He takes it, the man nigh senile in his old age. His hand shakes slightly as he steps onto the dock. “I can get the fish, mister Alden, I don’t mind.”

He smiles kindly, “You remind me so much of your brother.”

You don’t respond. You know he’s only saying that out of kindness, he has to be. Your mother ceaselessly reminds you of how different the two of you are. You try to ignore the comment as you lean over the boat to pull the huge net of fish from the creased hull. They’re blue in color, almost mimicking that of your dress, though their scales shine silver in the sunlight.

“Did you ever hear the story of Ruben’s first Reaping?” Mister Alden asks as you drop the net onto the dock, pausing to converse with him for a while despite knowing it’s a bad idea with your lack of time. “He only attended two Reapings, that poor boy. But his first one, I’ll never forget. It was the first time I met your mother, too, the nasty woman. He was out here retrieving fish, as our exchanges always seem to fall on Reaping Day. He was only twelve, but so determined to carry the fish all on his own. I offered my help at least a hundred times, to which he refused each one. He was strong, though, for his size. He managed to carry them all the way to the porch before the net caught on a twig and the fish fell all the way back down the pathway. Every single one.”

Your eyes widen. You recall this, though the memory is rather blurry to you as you were only seven at the time. That, and also because most of your memories with Ruben are tainted, not to be trusted in your bias. 

“What’d my mother do?” You ask, unable to help your childlike curiosity from rearing its head.

“Well,” He chuckles, though it lacks any sense of humor. “She wasn't happy, that’s for sure. Ruben instantly began to cry when he saw the effects of his mistake. I tried to assure him that it was okay and I could always deliver more fish, but he said that’s not why he was sad. He wasn’t mourning the loss of the fish. Instead, he was terrified of what your mother would do to him.” Mister Alden shakes his head, grey brows turned in an expression of dispirit. “No child that small should fear his own parent so vehemently.”

You frown. In every aspect where your mother lacks morality, mister Alden has a myriad of it. The old man is practically overflowing with sympathy at all times. He’d always treated you and Ruben as his own, offering comfort whenever you seek it and kind words whenever you forget they even exist.

Just as he’s about to continue his story, your mother’s voice is heard. It’s shrill as she shouts your name. Chills trace down your spine at the sound. Mister Alden gives you a pitying expression before you pass him a small pouch of coins for payment, lift the net over your shoulder, and begin the trek back up to your porch. The sound of his motor starting up carries through the air as you approach your mother.

She’s wearing a baby blue dress, just as fancy as yours — if not more. Her usual wooden cane has been swapped out for a fancier golden one. Her hair is done up in a neat braid, gold heeled shoes adorning her wrinkled feet. 

She shoots you a scowl before entering the house, dropping the door on you despite knowing you’re carrying a huge weight of seafood. It slams into your side, the corner of it landing on your stitched bicep. You wince, struggling for only a moment before an Avox rushes to your aid and holds it wide for you. You don’t dare thank her in front of your mother.

You enter the kitchen, placing the bag of fish onto the marble counter.

“We have less than twenty minutes before the Reaping!” She spits, rage evident in her tone as she watches you set it down. “Your feet are dirty and bare, your hair is matted, and you reek of fish!”

“I didn’t—” You begin, though you’re quick to stop yourself, remembering her order of not speaking unless asked to do so.

A sharp pain shoots through your cheek as she slaps you across the face for having spoken out of turn. You lower your head, mouth now sealed shut. She turns to give orders to the Avoxes — instructing two of them to put your hair up, one to put your shoes on, and three to gut and clean the fish prior to your return from the Reaping.

They’re quick to do so, rushing around to oblige.

You’re directed to a stool, two servants doing your hair into some intricate design whilst another crouches in front of you to slip on your shoes. They’re a pair of silver heels that match the jewels on your dress. In record time, the other two complete the updo, holding out a hand mirror for you to examine the design. Two thin braids wrap around the crown of your head, a neat bun resting at the nape of your neck. It’s beautiful considering how little time they had.

“I love it.” You whisper, quiet enough only they can hear it.

Your mother approaches you, thankfully not having heard your words of thanks. She circles around you, looking at the hairdo before she tuts, “It’ll do.”

The journey to the town square is only a few minutes. Though, as you walk beside your mother in deafening silence, it feels like an eternity. Everyone knows who the two of you are, the entirety of the Capitol fond of your family lineage. Their eyes are wide as they watch you and your mother pass through the streets. See, due to your partnership with mister Alden and your large quantity of Avoxes, neither of you ever leave the house unless it’s mandatory, which only adds to the peoples’ astonishment. Not to mention your unnecessarily extravagant clothing. Most people are only wearing plain gowns or linen shirts whereas you two look like you’re about to meet a monarch. It’s humiliating.

Your mother loves the attention, basking in it. You, on the other hand, feel as though it’s rather embarrassing.

You reach the square and part ways with her, wordlessly joining your respective age groups.

Your shoulders are set and your chin is raised as you know everyone is staring. Their gazes feel like spiders crawling all over your body. You fucking hate it, the prestige. Especially since you didn’t do anything to deserve it. You were just born into the family. To you, nothing makes you any different from the people living in the hovels of your District. Even in other Districts. The only thing that separates you from a starving child in Twelve is chance.

Mayor Marriott steps up to the podium and she tells the story of your country’s origin. You already know it by heart, having been taught by your father to memorize it at a young age. Her hair is platinum blonde, younger than most District mayors, though she’s just as strict. Her father was the mayor before her, causing her to take over the career. You oftentimes wonder if she hates lineage inheritance just as much as you do. You doubt it.

Following her speech comes the District escort. You know her by name, you know everyone in the Capitol by name. That’s Alice Reymond. Her hair is bigger than her head, her eyes adorned by lashes longer than her fingers. Capitolites are fucking weird, looking more like disfigured abstract pieces than human beings.

“Happy Hunger Games!” Exclaims Alice Reymond. “And may the odds be ever in your favor!”

She goes on to tell a speech on how much of an honor it is to serve as this District’s escort. Though every escort says that, you’re sure she means it more so than any others. Escorts are paid based on how many victors their District is able to produce. And, what with your family’s abundance of them, you’re sure she’s swimming in more cash than even District One’s escort is. However, more importantly, the bragging rights must be immeasurable.

Behind the podium of which she stands, mayor Marriott watches with a piercing gaze. Her blue eyes are intimidatingly sharp as she overlooks the crown. Though, the man sitting in the mentor’s chair has a gaze even sharper than she. 

Ruben. Your brother.

He’s tasked with training and keeping the tributes alive each year. He’s rather good at it. And, even when he fails, nobody blames him. How could they when he’s so perfect? You tune out Alice Reymond’s speech, taking in the sight of your brother after having not seen him in years. The closest you’ve gotten to talking to him is watching interviews on the television. 

His features are almost a perfect copy of yours — the same nose shape, same hair and eye color, same lips. But he’s got a certain look to him that erases any sort of similarities you two happen to share. A certain Capitolistic look. His eyes are highlighted with golden eyeliner, all the wrinkles in his face surgically removed. The brother you’d cherished all those years ago no longer exists. In his place sits the shell of a man. A Capitolite and thereby not your brother.

“Here we go!” Alice Reymond grins, yanking your thoughts back to the Reaping. She then begins digging her inhumanly long fingers through the bowl of names. She pulls out a slip of paper and smiles widely before calling it out. “Remy Wilson!”

The crowd murmurs lowly, looking around for the owner of the name. A pause. Nobody steps forward. Then, two Peacekeepers suddenly storm into the crowd and rip a little boy from his parents. The boy, Remy, is frozen in place, unmoving. The Peacekeepers pull him up to the stage. He’s crying, as he stands on the elevated space, trembling under the gazes of the District. Of the country.

He can’t be older than twelve. His cheeks are rounded, his big brown eyes even rounder. His skin is pale with a rosy nose, his wavy hair is an ashy brown that forms a messy crown of innocence around his head. Ruben is watching the boy closely, likely examining whether or not he’ll survive the arena. The answer is obvious, though. This child won’t be making it out.

“And for our second tribute,” Continues Alice Reymond. She pulls another paper from the bowl, her eyes widening slightly as she reads it. A great, pearly smile splits across her face before her spider-like eyes land on you. Your heart sinks.

You already know what she’s going to say when she calls out your name.

[post] notes!! While dual POV will be in this story, this is the only time I'll be showing two perspectives of the same event. This chapter followed Ellie and the reader both experiencing the reaping. It was needed for the plot but grew repetitive at the end, I promise this is the only time that'll happen 🤞 Also, this was a shit ton of exposition & I apologize for that, but the backstory of both characters are very needed. You def needed to see Ellie's relationship w everyone around her as well as have explanatory bg with the reader's family and everything. Also x2, I hope the amount of dialogue in Ellie's pov made up for the lack thereof in the reader's pov. I hate reading huge paragraphs of straight monologue so I try to refrain from writing it, but sometimes it's unavoidable (bc reader literally has nobody to talk to) Anyway, hope you enjoyed!!

⊹ ࣪ ˖𐙚 perm. taglist @luvsturniolo @kasqnxx @xlovla @ilovewomenfr @zzombiegirl @shawangel @defnoteleonor @fatbootymuncher @autisticintr0vert

⊹ ࣪ ˖𐙚 series taglist @kirammanss  @dsybouquet   @serraphinm   @smellovie.   @sakiigami.   @opt1mistic.   @spacecinnamonbuns.   @clouded-whispers.    @sapphicarribean   @corpsebridenightamare. @jaliyah-s. @pixiec4t. @chappellroankisser

[fayesia]

Aemond Targaryen x niece!reader

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

His hands traced the neckline of your almost translucent nightgown, the sheer material doing little to hide what was beneath. But Aemond was no stranger to this. After being betrothed to one another for 2 years, your marriage was put in motion by the Kings wishes, and 6 months later, you were carrying a babe.

Pulling the material down your shoulders, your breasts were revealed, still swollen and heavy from the months of breastfeeding. Your nipples grew hard against cold temperatures of the Red Keeps harsh winter, Aemonds torment on them doing little to help.

"Perfect. So perfect for me my love"

Arching against his ministrations, your mouth falls open, letting out gracious moans as his mouth wraps around your nipple. His teeth nipping against your soft skin, causing a stinging sensation that was quickly soothed by the gentle stroke of his tongue. Aemond revels at the feeling and taste of your sweet milk entering his mouth, greedily drinking what your babe left before you put her to sleep.

"Taste so sweet, just like my wife."

As he speaks his hands pull down your nightgown revealing your bare body to him.

"So beautiful my love, before and after birth, you're the beauty that graces my life everyday."

His words move you, especially after you revealed thoughts you had of yourself after giving birth, you're body was not the same as when you were younger. But Aemond did not care, for he seemed even more desperate after you had given birth, enjoying the effects his actions would have on your sensitive body.

Just like right now as he placed his hand on your thigh in a tight grip, his other one massaging your breast with his mouth wrapped around another.

The mix of touches eliciting the "sweetest of lustrous noises," as Aemond liked to say. Walking over to the small seating area of your shared chambers, you were placed onto the table. His hands roughly pulled you right to the edge as he kneeled in front of you. Your hands grazed through his hair, feeling the soft straight strands in a way you know he grew weak to.

"Treat me well Aemond , please I beg"

"Anthring for you my love"

Spreading you open your cunt was on display to him, a picture he kept on his mind too often than normal. You were a craving he could not subdue, an addictive he couldn't be apart from. Your wetness covered your folds dripping down you. Something Aemond could notice before two of his fingers caressed you, almost feather light touches that moved from your cunt up to your hidden pearl, eliciting louder whines from you.

"No more teasing Aemond please, I've been so patient-"

You were quick to be cut off, for he had wrapped your cunt in the soft confines of his mouth. His lips stayed on your folds as his tongue explored every crevice. Your hands that once stroked softly through his hair was now roughly gripped tightly at his roots. Yet this only seemed to please Aemond more, his muffled growls vibrating against your cunt only spurring you on even more.

His hands had a rough hold on your thighs as your legs were splayed over his shoulders, the soft heels of your feet dug into his back. That along with your hands pushing and rubbing his face deeper into you left the lower half of his face covered in you. Your slick dripping from his lips mixed with his own spit that created a shine on his chin. The liquid evidence of his actions.

"Such a tasty cunny, dear niece. One does not need food if fed this ambrosia every night"

Giggling at his praise you were quick to be silenced by two fingers entering your cunt. Eyes clenched shut at the intrusion that seemed to easy to be swallowed up by you, the slick providing ease to his actions as it dripped down his wrist. As to not let any of it go to waste, his mouth was back on you, messily sucking at your clit as your head was thrown back in ecstacy. His tongue languidly tracing against your clit while his fingers moved rapidly in and out of your tight hole, curling perfectly to rub and prod at that sweet spot in you that Aemond always knew how to find.

"I'm going to come husband, gods, feels so good"

Moaning into you at the praise he was receiving, Aemond, to your surprise, entered a third finger into you. It had been long since the two of you had participated in anything but a few quick meetings in deserted hallways of the castle. So feeling him spend his time with you felt like a gift from the gods that you were more than thankful to reviece, that gift which came in the form of Aemonds mouth.

Near sinful sounds coming from the place where his mouth joined with your cunt. His three fingers did not have to spend long inside you before your back was arched, and your thighs wrapped around your husbands head. A place he would die happily if to be suffocated by your tight holdings.

Pulling your legs open again as you tried to escape his ministrations, your mouth opened to a silent scream that became a release of sinful moans. Wetness poured from your cunt dipping into Aemonds awaiting mouth that made certain none of it would go waste.

Removing his fingers, he shoved the three long thin digits into your mouth, gagging as you tasted yourself around him, only for him to taste you himself. The mix of your juices and spit arousing him even more, displayed to you by the large bulge formed within his dragon riding pants.

As you slowed your breathing, your chest heaved up and down. Your body twitched when Aemonds tongue retraced over you to clean up the mess of mixed fluids he left. Rising from the ground, he towered over you, dipping his head to spit what he had collected into your awaiting mouth. The raw erotic action left you grinding your naked body against his fully clothed one.

Your noises resembled a low born common whore, a stark contrast to the strong, stubborn and poised perception you fronted to those outside of these chambers.

Your hands travelled down to untie the strings holding Aemonds pants up, your knuckles grazed against him as he released a sharp hiss.

"Who's teasing who now?"

You huffed at his words but was interpreted by a knock at the doors before you could respond.

"What is it?", Aemonds question came out as a seething drawl.

"The king request for you in the council room, my prince."

With a low growl, Aemond kissed you on the lips whispering promises of his swift return. While you sat slumped, disappointed, but still understanding of the princes' duties.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

~unedited~

[ryiju-muunie]

Yuki x choso x reader with nipple play and fisting please??👀👀

Just like an Animal

18+ viewer discretion is advised

fem!sub!reader/dom!Yuki Tsukumo/sub!Choso Kamo Warnings: whenever I do this it ends up just being YukixReader LMAO, nipple play, nipple sucking, breast worship, fingering, stretching I guess, fisting~, neck kissing, light biting, making out, tongue kissing Word count: 2155 DESC: Your relationship with Yuki and Choso gets spicy!!

I'm being super active but this isn't gonna last sowwyyyyyyy

REQUESTS ARE OPEN!

At this point, you weren’t sure how your relationship had begun. It started one day, with Yuki coming onto you and trying to engage in some lustrous foreplay. It felt wrong and dirty with her boyfriend, Choso, in the other room. But god, it felt so good. The way her hand delicately traced circles upon the top of your chest, just begging to go down and dip into your shirt. It was orgasmic before she even began. Then her boyfriend walked in. You expected a scandal, you didn’t expect him to join in. The man sat behind you and pressed his face into the crook of your neck, inhaling your pumpkin perfume and getting lost in your skin. You were soft and plush, made up of fat that they couldn’t help but squeeze. You were gorgeous in every sense of the word to those two, no wonder they had had their eyes on you. 

Yuki purred into your ear, whispering sweet nothings as Choso’s hands pulled up your shirt. From there it was history. They fucked into you like you were their only vice like you were the glue holding everything together. It was hot how the blonde would kiss your lips, smearing her lipgloss on your face as she hungrily devoured what was hers. And it was hot, how the brunette squeezed your breasts as he was about to finish, trying to hold onto any semblance of himself; Trying desperately to compose his whines. 

This day started like any other. Your friend was lying on your couch, legs across your lap as her boyfriend was seated beside you. In all honesty, you didn’t just like the sex. You liked the intimate aspect of it too. The romantic undertones in how they both lounged beside you, holding you close. It was as if you were a part of their little circle. You were their favorite thing to pleasure and please.

Choso leaned closer to you as the three of you watched the TV, his head resting against your shoulder. It was nice, how he very gently pressed his body weight to yours and made you feel safe. Not to mention Yuki’s presence too was comforting. His hand inched its way to your thigh, just resting against your clothed skin. It was pretty normal for the two of them to be handsy even if they didn’t want a sexual encounter. That’s how they were and you didn’t mind one bit.

The woman sat up after a moment, relinquishing her legs from your lap and opting to sit close to you. She put her hand on your lower stomach and watched as it twitched from her supple touch. Even over your shirt she still managed to give you butterflies. Her boyfriend was quick too, running his hand on your leg further up until he reached the hem of your yoga pants. 

You let out a faint exhale, closing your eyes to the sensation. If it were up to the couple, you would just sit back and do nothing as they worshipped your body for hours together. But you wanted to worship them too. You wanted both of them to feel the pleasure you felt almost every time their hands would graze yours. 

The raven-haired male’s lips pressed soft and shallow kisses along the side of your neck. It was subtle enough that you didn’t realize, until you felt the edge of his teeth run along your jaw, followed by his tongue. Slowly, he traced circles along your skin to make the hair on your back stand on end. It was tantalizing how he licked down your jaw, back to your neck to suck on your deep skin. Yuki was working too, longingly dragging her hands underneath your shirt until she felt the fat of your breasts peeking out from underneath. She pulled at the hem, draping your top over your tits until they were out from their cage and in her mouth. Every time, it was almost like she had some kind of fetish for your nipples. She began to suck on the left as her fingers twisted your right nub, causing your body to tighten and stiffen in pleasure. And every time, you were sensitive to her rough touches. 

Choso was moving back up to your jaw, tilting your head towards him so he could capture your lips. But he was in a teasing mood, you supposed because he let your mouth ghost his for several moments, biting on your bottom lip and then pulling away so you’d moan in disdain. He let out a faint, breathless laugh, before taking your lips into his. It was slow and painfully methodic how he used his tongue to pleasure yours. Without even asking for permission it slid into your mouth and traced circles around your own, pulling you into a trace. A soft moan escaped your lips as he tried to hold himself back. Typically, it was hard for Kamo to keep his composure, opting to dive head-first into your mouth and whine for you to fuck him senseless. Yeah … he was a sub. 

It was so hot, how he was slowly fucking his tongue into your mouth as Yuki was tracing circles around your erect nipple, with her lips around the other. She lightly bit down, just to feel your breath hitch in your ribcage. Her boyfriend's hands weren’t staying PG either, no-no, he was practically itching in his skin to touch you. If he could’ve had it his way he would’ve been on top of you by now, ripping off your top and taking you. [Yuki also felt eerily similar] 

The male’s hands were on your sides, rubbing your love handles and squeezing your body just to feel you tremble underneath his touch. They didn’t stay there for long, running down to your pants to get them out of the way. His girlfriend got the memo and left your breasts, but you both know she’d be back for them soon. She helped him, pulling the hem down to reveal your pink panties, which at this point were soaked. It was easy to turn you on with just the slightest touch or the littlest bit of kissing. And they knew it. You were dripping and they hadn’t even begun the fun-est part, fucking your tight little pussy until you screamed for it to end. 

“Wow…” Yuki whispered, hands on your pubic bone as she stared at the evergrowing wet spot, “I think we should try something new today.” You looked down at your underwear, then at the woman beside you, who was eyeing you with lust. You were down to try anything once, especially if it was them who were going to be the ones doing it to you.

“Do you mean,” Choso began but paused after a moment, looking away with a hint of embarrassment creeping up onto his cheeks. It was a hazy blush that ran across his temples and down to the apples of his cheeks, dusting his nose. 

She nodded and let a grin plaster her glossed lips, “Yeah baby, we’re gonna fuck our little toy so good. Right, toy?” Her voice was almost nurturing, with a condescending hint that drove you wild. A soft whine came from your mouth before you could even stop it, nodding your head along. You didn’t care what they did as long as it was them doing it. 

“I like the sound of that…” He spoke in awe, running a hand down your chest to your tits, palming one of them just to see you squirm. What a tease. Kamo just loved to rile you up before letting go, so you’d plead for more. Especially when they fucked you so good, you couldn’t control the moans escaping from your mouths. And the begging too.

One of Yuki’s fingers inched closer to your wet pussy, you could tell she was itching to taste you. It was almost addicting how amazing you were, in every possible way. She inhaled and grabbed your panties by the top hem, beginning to pull them down. Choso helped, lifting you up with ease to make the process easier. Even as they manhandled you they were careful. They’d never want to break their toy. Well, physically that is. Your underwear was tossed to the side, somewhere. You found that you didn’t quite care at that moment where they were, as you felt warm fingers press into your wetness. A slow and quiet pleasure filled your walls and you leaned your head back. 

“Y-Yuki…” You exhaled, leaning your head against the cushion behind you. This was different than how she’d usually finger you. Typically she’d start off with your clit, then dive in with two fingers. But she was inserting two very slowly, spreading them apart just a bit to see your reaction. It was pleasurable in a very strange way, tickling your core differently than it had before. 

“Add in another one,” Choso whined into your ear, with his arms slowly embracing you from behind. He pulled you to him as Yuki anchored herself on the floor in front of your perfect pussy. His mouth found your neck and began to tease it, sending small kitten licks your way. It was little pulses of pleasure on your skin until he began to bite. The man had already unnaturally long canines, so the littlest bit of pressure was enough to make you moan in pain [and bliss]. Your head lazily turned towards his, mouth searching for his own. The softness of his lips was what you craved in ways you didn’t know you needed. Sure, the blonde was a good kisser, but there was nothing like kissing that damn emo. The way he took pleasure in kissing you slowly, building up to an intense and sloppy make-out… it was utterly arousing. 

You felt her insert a third finger, pushing them further apart as she did so. Softly, she began to thrust them. You were attempting to figure out exactly what she was prepping you for, but it went out the window when her fingers touched your sensitive G-spot. Your back arched forward to the sensation, but Choso made sure you didn’t go far. It was different to have three fingers on your walls, tickling your area until you came. Yet, the way she was fucking you was indicating it wasn’t going to stop there. No, she wasn’t trying to make you cum. Not right now. 

“Good girl,” Yuki purred, honey practically dripping from her smooth lips, “You’re doing so good… I’m gonna insert a fourth, kay princess?” She cooed and it was bliss. She could have been telling you the worst news imaginable, but in that voice, you couldn’t help but nod pathetically and let her have her way. She was sweet, talking down to you as if you were the scum on the bottom of her boot. But you wanted her to continue. That way she spoke, you never wanted it to end. 

Her fourth finger slid into your warmth and you felt a hand toy with your nipples, entering a state of newfound bliss. It was hard to keep those soft little noises from your lips as your orgasm was starting to approach with every fondling touch. Choso’s fingers twisted your perked nubs in the way he knew you liked, as his girlfriend pumped her hand slowly in and out of your cunt. By the time she inserted her thumb and pressed deep into your core, you were far gone. 

“H-hah… Y.. Yu.. mm- shit ha.. Fuck Yuki,” you drawled, leaning your head back against the male for stability, but it was hard to find it with pleasure running through your pink walls. Every second you could feel your body tighten in anticipation, riling up for the moment it knew would come soon. Closer and closer you could feel it coming as her fingers pressed together to form a point and targeted your swollen spot. Curving up, they graced your G-spot and began to abuse it. Hearing your reactions was enough for Tsukumo to leave satisfied, watching your eyes flutter from her touch.

Your hips rolled up and your chest arched forward, beginning to ride those slow waves of orgasmic gratification. It was different from those other, intense orgasms you had had before. It wasn’t a quick burst of intensity that left you panting for more. No, it was slow and painful as it reached its peak in your pussy, and traveled through your legs, and into your body. It created wave after wave of ferocious glee, that you couldn’t help but groan gutterally. Your wetness was music to Choso’s ears as he nibbled gently on your neck, feasting on your orgasm like it was his lifeline. Yuki was having a blast too. Anything that pleased you or her boyfriend was enough to make her happy. 

That’s all that mattered, your happiness.