#i might have some half-finished ones lying around

[nsharks]

bleeding blue | apocalypse au

part twenty-one —other parts

pairing: Simon “Ghost” Riley x fem!reader words: 3.5k tags: death. blood. cannibalism mention. zombies of course. AFAB reader. single dad ghost. there will be sex but it isn’t here yet. slow burn!!! enemies to lovers. summary: After losing your companions, you run into a skull-masked man and his daughter. They are your last hope for survival. a/n: I'm sorry lmaooo nine months... hopefully we can finish this thing!

The last bed you laid in smelled like lemon mint detergent. It was the full bed in your sister's guest room. Everything was crisp and white. They rarely had guests besides you. Some of your clothes stayed in that closet, one of your toothbrushes stayed in the connected bathroom, waiting for your visits. You'd awaken that last morning not thinking you'd never sleep in bed for another five years. You left it unmade.

This bed smells like pine and warmth.

Ghost's room is small and dimly lit. The ceiling slants so that one end is not tall enough for him to fully stand. There's a dresser and a nightstand, leaving only a sliver of floorspace.

After the metal latch on the door clicks shut, Ghost lays the blanket down and grabs a pillow for himself. That leaves the bed to you. Springs creak beneath your weight as you silently slip under a heavy, rustic quilt. The years-embedded scent of him wraps around you like a drug-induced fog. You hesitate to move, frozen as he flicks off the light. You wonder if he always locks the door or did it for you, to make you feel safer.

Only when his moving about ceases do you allow yourself to get comfortable. You cocoon your body under the quilt and turn to your side, closing your eyes.

A thought reopens them minutes later. You roll onto your back and speak into the darkness. "Have you known about this Switzerland place?"

For a moment, you think he's already asleep. Then, from below the bed by your feet, he says, "Heard of it."

"That is what you guys talked about, isn't it?" you ask absentmindedly.

"Among other things."

You sit up so you can see him, but all that you can make out is a dark shadow. "Care to share?"

"Some things are on a need-to-know basis," is all he gives.

"And I don't need to know?"

"Precisely."

It stings; you don't know why. "Some team we make, huh? Or I guess we're only a team when you need me to do something for you."

You quickly realize how petulant you must sound. The shadow sits upright. "They asked me to go with them. I said no. Too far. Too many variables that are hard to predict, and she's not ready for them. Happy?"

Happy—no, but relief replaces the slight uncertainty in your gut since your conversation with Nereida. Joining them was shut down. You wouldn't tell her, but their idea sounds asinine, whether or not that commune exists. The trip will be risky at best, fatal at worst. You're tempted to ask him how many days he thinks they'll recoup here before continuing their journey, but opt for sleep instead. He seems done with the conversation, too, lying back down. Then, you have the best sleep you've had in years in his bed.

When the sun turns pink, you awaken to a room void of Ghost. He's gone. It should be expected, but you'd thought he might wake you up to train like normal. Though, the past twenty-four hours haven't been normal. You look around, the details of his room more visible now. On the nightstand, there is a stack of books and you scan the titled spines. Mostly classics. One Hemingway. All tattered and read frequently. Beside them lays a silver chain attached to a dog tag. You gently finger the engraved metal so as not to move it out of place: Simon Riley. 

Snooping through his things is more tempting than you're willing to admit. You slip out of bed, socked feet padding over to the dresser. There are mostly papers. His map with the marked circle around what you now realize is Switzerland, a notepad with scribbled half-cursive on it, and then a faded photo beneath it. You freeze, breath hitching, as if you've done something dangerous just by stumbling upon it. Curiosity is thick in your chest, difficult to ignore. Gentle fingers reach to shift it out, revealing a picture that you know right away is of Blue and her mom. Blue is a baby. Maybe one year old. A woman with light brown hair holds her up, sitting on a bench in front of a playground. She's pretty and young. There is a sadness when you wonder if this is the only picture he has of them—before her death. Then, there is another feeling. You swallow it. 

You quickly slip the photo back just the way you found it and leave the room. The living room is quiet, people still sleeping. Price and Kyle's blankets are empty, but Kyle is the only one you spot outside. He sits on a tree stump, using a knife and some soap to shave his beard. He looks at you the moment you step outside.

"Good morning." He splashes a scoop of water on his smoothed jaw. 

You tuck your hands in your pockets. "Morning."

Without the facial hair, he looks even younger. Maybe in his early thirties. He pushes to his feet and you are reminded of his above-average height, though he is not as monstrous as Ghost. His form is lean, all muscle, with much less ink on his exposed skin. It is now you notice a scar across his jaw. Thick but faded. It trails halfway down his neck.

"Do you know where Ghost went?" you ask.

"Working on that truck of his. With Price."

A glance over your shoulder confirms it; you spot some movement behind the cabin where you know his truck sits. Guess that means no training. You nod. "So, um, you were in the military together, right?"

He takes a moment to look at you before answering. "Yeah. Same unit. Price was our captain."

"I kind of figured. He is... captain-y."

"'Captain-y.' Good way of putting it."

You're ready to turn away when he asks, "I hate to pry, but I admit I'm curious how you ended up here with him."

You force a smile. "It's not a very interesting story, sorry."

"I'm not looking for entertainment."

"What are you looking for, then?" You sound more defensive than you mean to. 

He shrugs. "Just curious, is all. You're a bit young."

"I'm not fucking him if that's what you're getting at." His brows lift to his hairline, and you're almost embarrassed for assuming that is what he was thinking, but before he can speak you add, "And you're young, too. I can handle myself just as you can."

"Of course." He shakes his head, moving his hand over his chest in earnest. "I apologize if I insinuated otherwise. Though, I am older than you."

"How old?"

"Let's see. Thirty-one last November. Or maybe it's just thirty. Hard to keep track, innit?" His smile is more genuine than yours, flashing white teeth. Then, his face turns more serious and he sighs through his nose, head tilting. "Look, I understand."

"Understand what?"

"I don't know your story, but I'm sure it is a gruesome one, and you have every right to feel uncomfortable. We'll be out of your hair soon enough. I appreciate you having us, though."

You want to tell him it's not like you have a choice; you're not the host here. But he already knows that. He's trying to be nice. "Thank you," you tell him honestly. 

Kyle bends to pick up his knife, wiping it off on his shirt. "So what did you need Ghost for?"

"Oh, nothing really."

"Care to accompany me for some breakfast, then?"

You consider saying no, but you need to hunt, anyway. Besides, you don't think he'd try anything in broad daylight. In another life, you may have looked at him with a more appreciative eye. But as you wade in silence through the woods, bow cinched to your back, you study him like an opponent. He's more agile than Ghost, likely quicker. When he crests the hill, it's hard to match his strides. 

Small conversation picks up by the pond and you find yourself easing up. You learn he's from London, too.

"What part?"

"Islington. I shared an apartment with my girlfriend. The rent was shit but it was worth it. Top floor loft with a good view and this insane Turkish bakery just below us." His tone is so casual you forget where you are for a second, until he suddenly throws his knife. It pins a squirrel to one of the trees. He bends to dislodge it and carries the dead animal, blood on his fingers. 

You keep walking. "What happened to her?"

"I had to make a choice. Go to London and find her, or go with Price and get my nephew, niece, and sister-in-law."

The understanding hits with the force of a fallen tree, and you pale. 

He notices your expression and continues. "I don't regret my decision. I've come to terms with it. There was no chance of me finding her in London, not with how quickly the infection spread there and the phone lines went out. I didn't even know where to look for her. At work? Home? Up north, things weren't as bad yet. I got in contact with my sister-in-law, Ameena, and told her to meet us at the small college up there where Nereida worked."

You recall what Nereida said, about Ari's mom and sister dying, so you don't pry about them. "What about your brother? Ari's dad?"

"He died before shit happened. He was in the military, too. Different unit. Multiple gun wounds while in Afghanistan a few years back."

"I think your story is more gruesome than mine," you admit.

His lips twitch ruefully. "Not a competition. Gruesome world, gruesome stories."

A more comfortable quiet settles. He is not so different than you, you realize. Only difference is he still has his nephew to look after.

The sun is already high, enough to make a collar of sweat appear on your shirt. There is a small dirt ridge you have to climb and the effort reminds you of the still-healing bruises on your body. A skirt of movement catches your eye and this time, you act quick. You use your bow to kill a squirrel up on a branch. It falls to the ground.

"Damn." Kyle whistles, low and long, as you wriggle the arrow free. "Hell of an aim you got."

"I'm... alright."

"No need to be modest."

You straighten and wipe your bloodied hand on your shirt. The movement lifts it, and you hear him suck in a breath behind you. A hand touches your shoulder, gentle than firm, as he spins you around. You're confused, then follow his gaze to the sliver of exposed skin on your hip. It's a gross yellow. 

"Twix." His voice lowers, and his friendly eyes are confused. 

Shit. "It's not whatever you're thinking."

"I'm thinking someone has put their hands on you." He frowns and shifts closer. "I know you have no reason to tell me things, but I can tell you I am not okay with that shit, no matter who it is."

You inwardly cringe. "Ghost is not... hitting me. Well, he is—"

"Fucking hell—"

"No, no. I asked him to." The bewildered look on his face makes you palm your forehead. "Not like that. Jesus. We train together, okay?"

"Train together," he repeats, shoulders loosening. 

"Yeah, like to help me get stronger." The embarrassment remains on your cheeks. "It's silly, really."

Kyle shakes his head and grins, clearly amused now that he knows you're not being abused against your will. "Not silly. Thought you two were into some kinky shit for a second there." He continues walking over a patch of dryer land, stepping onto a small rock and chuffing a breath under his nose. "Wouldn't have been surprised."

Your fingers absentmindedly tighten around the squirrel's limp neck. Your feet are frozen for a moment as you shake off a deep blush, then call out behind him. "Did you miss the part where I said I'm not fucking him!"

He simply laughs. 

The rest of the day passes in languid warmth. 

It's weird having so many people here, but you try to continue your day like usual, skinning the kill and washing your clothes. You learn more about Nereida as you eat together. You haven't had a female friend in... a long time. Save Blue. She used to be an arts professor at a private school. Sculpting, mainly. That is how she came to meet John Price, when he attended one of her galleries, buying a piece from her for far more than the listing price. He was just looking for a way to take me out to dinner. The way she speaks of him is that of a doting wife, despite everything they've been through. She tells you they were engaged before the infection. A makeshift ceremony at their old camp was the best they could do. 

"No wedding ring, but we do both have this." She pulls up her sleeve to show you a small scar carved on her shoulder—a faint letter 'J'. Price has the 'N'.

You're not sure what Ghost needed to fix on his truck that morning, or why it was important to do it with Price, but when you returned with Kyle, something felt off. Ghost's tension was palpable. He usually seems in thought, but even more-so. When Ari takes Blue for a quick ride on the horse—apparently Cherry used to be owned by his parents on their family ranch in Newcastle—he watches for only a minute before disappearing somewhere with Price. You pretend to need something from the cabin. You sneak around the back way, finding them again by his truck, muttering in low voices. Only pieces reach your ears.

"...through the rural parts. Not a straight path..."

"...could take months..."

"Got quite a bit of those."

Then, he's showing Price something under the tuck bed's tarp where you catch sight of that kayak once again. 

"Find it?"

A low voice in your ear. You startle and turn around.

"Huh?"

Kyle raises a brow. "You said you needed something."

Your hand flattens against the side of the cabin. "Right. Um, I just—"

Boots scuffle behind you. You don't need to turn to know Ghost and Price have detected your presence, making their way over. Kyle's gaze flicks to them and you feel like a child who's been caught by her parents—embarrassment laced over your irritation. You wouldn't have been eavesdropping if they weren't so secretive.

"Everything alright?" Price's timbre is calm. Your neck prickles where you feel Ghost's stare.

You find yourself nodding. "Yes. Just fine. Sorry."

It gets cooler by nightfall. Your knee bounces slightly under the table during dinner. You listen to Blue explain the rules of battleship to Ari. You don't eat much more of the meat you caught with Kyle. With a mostly empty stomach, you enter Ghost's room after everyone else has gone to bed. His broad form hovers over his dresser. For a moment, you fear he's somehow noticed that you looked at his things earlier. But then you realize his eyes are glued to the map, and he's penciling some things on the margins.

He looks up when you close the door behind you. His brows are deeply knotted. 

"Figured you would be sleeping out there for tonight."

"What?"

"Seems like you feel just fine around them now." 

He looks away from you as if you're not even there. He places the map down and opens the top drawer. Without warning, he pulls out a clean shirt and changes, revealing his bare chest. His shoulders flex as he slips it over his head by the collar. Then, he moves toward you, eyes dully expectant.

"Being asleep near them is different than hanging out during the day," you finally respond. Mouth feeling dry, you swallow. "What's going on? I can tell that you... you've been thinking about something."

"You mean you've been listening." His brow lifts. He shakes his head before you can defend yourself. "I am always thinking about something."

"Would it kill you to not be cryptic for once? I thought that we were..."

"That we were what?"

"Being honest with each other now."

A dark, slightly amused breath leaves his nose. He contemplates your words for a moment. "It is my plan to go there," he then says. "I'm not stupid. I know she needs more than what I can offer her here. It has always been my plan. Just not now."

"Because she's not ready," you breathe.

"Because she's not ready," he repeats, chin tilting. His eyes darken, veering to the left. "Price seems to disagree."

Your nails curl in your palms. "And?"

He looks back at you. "And I am thinking of your camp. What happened to you. I can't grow complacent."

The mention unsettles your stomach. Of course, he needn't elaborate, not when the memory is more fresh than you'd like. "But going to Switzerland would take days, weeks. And they have no idea what they might run into out there. It's not like we have inside info on the state of France and—and wherever the hell else we'd have to cross through to get there. They could be worse than London."

"I'm aware."

"So what, then? You're considering it now? I thought you told them no," your hushed voice edges a bit harsher, and the pulse in your neck quickens.

You hate what you think he's saying, even if you understand it. He has his daughter's future to think of. Even if he were to try finding some safe community when she's older, the opportunity of traveling with two other military-experienced men would be gone, along with whatever weapons and supplies they bring to the table.

The contemplation is vivid in his eyes as you study them. Ghost's head lowers, dipping down at the same time that he emits a harsh breath, and you realize how close the two of you have become in this quiet exchange, keeping your voices safe from any awakened ears. So close, in fact, that his exhalation hits the space between your neck and collarbones, where a small patch of skin tingles with alertness. 

His voice emerges low and thoughtful after a drawn moment. "I haven't fully decided."

You nod with deep breath to steady yourself, taking in his answer. "Will you tell me when you do?" 

"I can do that."

And that's all he offers—four words that give a minuscule amount of comfort, because now bitter uncertainty has snuck upon you once again. Your fate lays in his decision. You can't survive on your own, not even here, so if he leaves you have to go with him. The impending doom fogs your brain. You fail to notice his hand has moved, pinching the hem of your shirt between thumb and forefinger, and beginning to carefully lift it up. A breath hitches at the top of your throat and your eyes unfurl, only to find that he is pensively looking down at your exposed stomach.

"What the fuck are you—"

You're cut off when his bent knuckles gently brush over your mottled abdomen, sweeping down the sore midline, leaving you frozen. It's a thoughtful, slow touch—calloused skin against smooth softness. His thumb traces a particularly bad one by your hip, causing your muscles to flutter as a pleasant heat blossoms. For the second time today, your bruises are under scrutiny, and you curse yourself for not applying more of that paste on them.

"They're healing well," he murmurs, more to himself than to you, and lowers the shirt back down. He steps back. Eyes find yours. "Don't get too comfortable."

You blink dazedly, then stiffen. "Um, what?"

"Sleeping in my bed. My room isn't a hotel."

The change of topic gives you whiplash. "You're the one who made me sleep here," you remind him pointedly. "I'll just take the floor tonight, and you have the bed."

"You're a woman. Take it."

"As if you give a fuck about being a gentleman."

"You're right, I don't." A dismissive shoulder shrugs, then his back turns to you. He lays in the bed before you have the chance to even move, which leaves the blanket on the floor for you.

You should've just accepted the bed.

Once the room is shrouded in darkness, you bury your head in the pillow. 

"Comfortable?" he says sarcastically above you.

"Fuck off."

Then it's silent. You don't sleep nearly as well.

[pomefioredove]

Hii! Can I request for Jamil where his s/o helps him with cleaning dishes after Kalim made another big party? My boy needs some support</3

SO I didn't read the s/o part until after I'd finished but you can imagine that I think? Jamil is reseved and wary enough for it

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ a white lie

type of post: fic characters: jamil additional info: romantic, reader is gender neutral, reader is yuu, not proofread

Suffice to say that Jamil had not enjoyed the party.

If he ever enjoys Kalim's parties is another question, but there were a few things that made this one particularly insufferable:

#1 Jamil had explicitly told Kalim not to have this party, since he had failed his last alchemy lab and needed to study before the retake #2 Kalim had agreed to not have this party and Jamil was already in bed when Kalim threw his door open to announce the party was back on #3 unprepared for this party that Kalim was not going to have, Jamil had run across campus in the cold to pick up food from Sam's before it closed #4 on the way back, one of those weird nocturnal bugs scuttered across the path in front of him

...And so now, at half past one in the morning, with all of the confetti vacuumed and glitter still stuck to his skin, Jamil was washing dishes.

He's fantasizing about the sad look on Kalim's face when he would inevitably fail the alchemy lab on Monday. Again.

Just a little something to keep him awake.

A squeak of the door. Jamil tenses, praying to any god that would listen, that that is not Kalim, come to ask for milk and cookies.

"You're still up?"

Your soft voice releases some of the tension in his shoulders.

Jamil sighs. "Yes. Is it late?"

He asks that as if he doesn't know. Better to play dumb than to look pitiful. He doesn't need your sympathy, after all.

"Yeah," you say, letting the door squeak shut behind you. "Why're you still here?"

He shrugs. "I don't know the time. I suppose I lost track,"

Which is a little white lie. He's been counting every minute.

Without asking, which is so insufferably like you, you stand beside him at the sink and begin washing dishes.

"You don't need to do that," Jamil says. "I'm almost done."

Which is another white lie. There's still dishes in the lounge he hasn't even collected yet.

"Then you'll be done faster,"

An almost intolerable act of kindness, but with that knowing look in your eye. He hates that you can tell when he's lying.

"...Very well," At least you're competent.

He knows you won't break anything. And you might even wash something, too. Much different from Kalim.

"...Did you enjoy the party?" he asks.

"I didn't go,"

"Didn't you?"

You respond to everything he says with this calm, soft voice, so unassuming, so innocent, but the way you look at him says something much different.

"I didn't," you repeat. "I didn't want to."

Jamil almost smiles. "So, then, may I ask what you're doing here? You surely didn't just decide to take a stroll through Scarabia at one-forty in the morning,"

"You know the time, now?"

Damn it. How do you manage to get him so tongue-tied???

Jamil steps away from the sink and dries off his hands just to put them on his hips.

"What do you want?"

"I want to help,"

And there's that cuteness again. You must have an angle here, something you need from him, but what could he possibly have to give?

He scoffs. "Surely, you'd have better results sucking up to Kalim. Or perhaps Azul. Or anyone but me,"

Your hands never stop working, shining each dish with a gentle efficiency he almost admires.

"But I want to suck up to you,"

Jamil crosses his arms and glares. It's frustrating just how good you are at this. Playing cute. You already have everyone on campus wrapped around your finger, don't you? The housewardens, the vice housewardens, the princes, the celebrities.

What would you want out of him? What good would being in his favor do you?

"What exactly are you implying?"

You look back into the murky depths of the sink. "I like you,"

"You like me?" As if he'd believe that.

But Jamil can't deny how honest you had sounded. And from what he knew, you hardly went around saying such things in such ways. Even to your friends.

"Why?"

You hesitate. As if you genuinely don't have an answer for that. An answer he'd like to hear, anyway.

"Because... you're like me, I suppose,"

Jamil's eyes widen. A lot of feelings suddenly go through him in hot flashes- shock, anger, resentment, jealousy- but mostly...

Confusion.

You continue. "Not in a literal sense. Just that... well, you know. No one helps me, either. They look to me for support and I'm expected to just... coddle them. I can't ever be upset or angry or resentful,"

He has no response. That's...

...Not untrue.

Jamil says nothing, letting the silence be broken only by his own loud, restless, thoughts, and then he slowly returns to the sink.

He takes each plate and glass from you with trained silence, rinsing each before setting them to dry.

And he looks only at the water. He doesn't want you to see how his expression has softened.

When you're done with everything, lounge and all, he walks you to the door.

"You're fine walking home on your own?"

You nod. Jamil isn't exactly sure why he asked that, but it felt like the right thing to say.

You both linger at the door. Looking at each other. Saying nothing.

"Thank you," he finally says. "For your help. It... meant a lot to me. I probably wouldn't have finished before sunrise without you."

Again, he's not sure why he said that. It felt right. It felt good to be good to you, he supposes. And his intentions were honest, even if his words were not. He certainly wouldn't have taken that long on his own.

But a white lie has never hurt anyone.

[missadangel]

The Heart of Rome (Marcus Acacius x OC)

All Chapters List

XII. The First Kill

Sic Semper Tyrannis

"Thus always to tyrants."

Brutus.

"You never forget your first kill," Marcus once said. One evening, you were sitting together in that meadow just after finished your knife training. "I've had to kill many, dozens, thousands. Some I felt no remorse for, some I thought they deserved it, some I felt pity for, but their faces are blurred in my memory in time. However, I could never forget the face of the first one. Although I was young, I remember it clearly, even now. For some time the silhouette of his face continued to torment me, even preventing me from using my sword properly.”

He took a deep breath as his fingers ran through your golden hair. “It's a peculiar thing, hard to overcome, right then and there, when you take his life, everything changes; the ground you walk on, the air you breathe, all of it becomes your enemy.”

As you looked at your own hands which were stained with blood and trembling, his words reverberated in your mind. You glanced at the man you had just killed, lying still on the ground. He was right. Everything has changed, and it will never be the same again.

Two days ago…

The atmosphere on Palatine Hill was one of palpable tension as the city awaited for the new dawn. You were trying to figure out the best way to extricate yourself from this troubling situation when you were involuntarily brought here by the guards, at the behest of your Emperor half-brother. Walking from the great courtyard into the great hall, accompanied by Flavius and two guards, you noticed that several soldiers were being forced to their knees by the guards. It appeared as though they were awaiting something or someone. They were attired in black cloaks over their armour, and you were uncertain as to why they were regarding you with concern. Might they be Marcus's men? Could this be the reason why he did not return home? Could he have been here too? As these questions continued to arise in your mind, you headed for the large door and entered as the guards opened it for you.

Once you had entered the great hall, the man called Flavius took his leave, accompanied by a few of his men, for some reason. You were not particularly curious about where he went, because the moment you saw Caracalla's face, your tension level spiked. You never thought that one day you would be judged by him in this hall. Caracalla stood in the centre, in his usual place, with Macrinus right next to him. What a surprise! You could imagine the strings he had woven around your brother, effectively turning him into a puppet. Geta and his mother Julia were on the left side of the hall. On the floor was the body of a slave, lifeless and bleeding, felt a chill run through you. You averted your gaze. As soon as he saw you, Geta uttered a silent curse and looked at his brother with a look of anger. “Really, brother? I told you, Aurelia has nothing to do with this!”

Caracalla stared at you, ignoring his brother. You swallowed when you realised he was holding the vial you had sent for Geta. He held it up as if he wanted you to see it. His face showed signs of fatigue and redness, which you knew could cause this kind of effect.

You were trying to stay calm. But your eyes kept drifting to the body of the poor slave on the floor. Caracalla noticed. “Oh, forgive us for starting without you.” He laughed like a madman.

“I have to tell you that you are making a mistake, brother,” you said calmly. You were hoping he hadn't noticed the quaver in your voice. “The things you accuse me of. None of that is true.” You turned your head to Julia, who was looking at you as she always did, defiant and angry.

“Lady Domna asked me to poison you, as she well knows. And I refused."

“Or are you going to tell me our brother Geta's lies too?” Caracalla snapped.

"Not lies, you fool, I'm telling the truth!" Geta shouted. He then inhaled. "Our mother is responsible for this. I can assure you that neither I nor Aurelia attempted to poison you."

Julia looked at her son, her eyes wide in surprise.

"What about this then?" Caracalla indicated the vial in his hand. "Last week, I had this dream that you were trying to kill me, and you were all involved." He pointed his index finger at each of you in turn. Macrinus stood silently beside him, weighing up the situation.

"As I said, my mother found a poison that will kill you slowly, which is why you killed this slave just now!"

Caracalla looked down at the dead slave on the floor. "That's right," he muttered. "I did." Then he grinned.

He looked like he was really lost, which made you almost feel pity for him. Geta approached him, seemingly used to this situation. "I asked Aurelia for help, for you, brother."

"Hah! So you admit that you plotted together to kill me!”

Geta sighed. “No you silly! You know that Aurelia is a medicus, so she found out what poisoned you and made a concoction that will cure you.”

“Lies, lies, lies! You're always lying to me!” He shouted at him, then pursed his lips. Geta rolled his eyes.

That's when you heard some muttering coming from outside. You figured it must be the soldiers. Before you had a chance to react, someone called out 'General', the great door opened, and Marcus walked in. You weren't sure which was more shocking. Seeing Marcus there like that, Flavius gripping his arm like he was a criminal, the bruises and blood on his face, or the fact that he was only in his burgundy tunic? Your chest tightened and your breath caught in your throat. It was as if someone was squeezing it.

“Marcus!” you cried out. Your ringing voice filled every space in the great hall.

Without a second thought, you strode towards him. You grasped his face in your hands and gazed at his bruises with concern.

"Aurelia, tell me you're alright." He said, also concerned.

"I am. But you? What happened to your face?" You touched the edge of his eyebrow where the blood oozing from. You couldn't hold back the tears.

"There's no need to be concerned, my lady."

"General!" Caracalla said loudly. "Or should I just call you Marcus now? After all, you don't deserve the title."

"How do you mean?" you asked him, taking Marcus’ hand in yours.

"You are mad indeed, brother." Geta muttered. “General has nothing to do with this.”

“Shut the hell up! Enough with your lies!” Caracalla wagged a finger at him. Then he turned to you and Marcus.

"A husband and wife have decided to commit a crime together. That's quite romantic.” He gave a little sarcastic clap.

“What are you accusing him of?” you asked, a little sharply. “He's a general who's loyal to you. The person you should be accusing is right there with you!” You said, pointing at Macrinus.

“Aurelia,” Marcus warned, squeezing your hand.

Macrinus smirked smugly. "May I enquire as to the evidence on which you have based your conclusion, my lady?"

Caracalla butted in. "You're not in a position to accuse anyone." I'm the one who decides everyone's fate here.’ He turned to his mother. "I will commence with Lady Domna. Or should I say ‘Mother'?" he said, raising his eyebrows suggestively. Then he went to the slave lying lifeless on the floor, bent down and examined him as if he was seeing him for the first time. "You disobeyed me. As if that wasn't enough, you tried to poison me using this rat." He stood up and asked the guard next to him for his sword. Once he had it in his hand, he looked at its shiny surface as if he were talking to it. Julia tensed up. "I can't send you back there without knowing what you'll do. I'm sure you'll be back though. So you'll be charged under the Roman law.”

“Brother!” Geta protested.

"I must protest! I'm the Empress, I can't be judged! I am your mother!" Julia yelled.

"That's why you are still breathing!" Caracalla barked. "You committed treason! I could kill you right now, but I won't! So, try to be greatful and don't speak another word!"

"It's a fair judgement, Your Majesty," Macrinus stated, pleased. You were certain that it was his opinion. After all, he had the majority of the Senate.

"Take Lady Domna to her room and keep her there until the trial," he ordered the guards.

The guards forcibly took her by the arm and led her out, despite her protests and shouting.

"As for you," he said, pointing at you and Geta.

"It would be best to simply let Aurelia go. I'm the one who asked her for help," he said, stepping between you and Caracalla.

Caracalla laughed. "How touching! What have you done to my brother, Aurelia?" His eyes shifted to you. Marcus clenched his jaw. The atmosphere in the hall was getting tense. "Well, here's the thing; she's the one who made this concoction, after all."

"It's not poison, on the contrary, it's a herbal remedy that will heal you." You explained.

Caracalla approached you and handed you the vial, pointing the sword he held in his other hand at you. "Prove it, then. Drink."

Marcus became visibly tense. Geta turned his head towards you. You swallowed hard. There was no harm in drinking the concoction you had made, you wouldn't have been afraid to drink it, only if you hadn't been carrying a child. "I can not," you suddenly said, closing your eyes and bowing your head.

Caracalla laughed hysterically. You exchanged a look with Marcus, you knew he understood why.

Geta turned to you, leaned in, “Aurelia, what are you-“

"I can't because I'm with child." You said. "The mixture could harm the child."

Everyone looked at you, and there was a brief period of silence. "How can I be sure you're not lying to me?" Caracalla asked.

Geta shifted his gaze to your belly, then turned to Caracalla and snatched the vial from his hand. "Give me the damn thing," he said and uncorked the bottle and drank the whole thing without thinking.

Everyone was looking at him in surprise. He threw the vial on the floor and looked Caracalla in the eye, who stared back at him with his mouth open. Geta licked his lips, spread his arms wide. "Look at me, brother! I am still alive, aren't I?" He smirked.

Caracalla looked at him, then at you, narrowing his eyes. This time he pointed his sword at Geta. "You two, you must be playing tricks on me."

"That's nonsense!" Geta yelled. Caracalla shook his head as if he had heard something. "No, a lie is always a lie. I refuse to believe it." The sword slipped and fell to the floor as he covered his ears with his hands. He stepped back. Macrinus approached him and whispered something in his ear.

"I think that's all we need for now. As you can see, Aurelia is completely innocent." Geta said.

"No way!" Caracalla spoke up. "She'll be staying here until this is resolved." He and Macrinus exchanged glances. He then looked at you. "I've decided that she needs to stay under home detention here at Domus Severiana."

"I must protest!" you said, loudly. Marcus gave you a little tap on the shoulder to calm you down.

“My decision is final!” He yelled at you then turned to Geta. “So, you, I'll have you tried for high treason, and I'll have you deposed from the title of emperor."

“You can't do that!” Geta interjected.

“Just watch me!” He gave him a stern look.

Geta clenched his fists.

"As for you, Acacius," Caracalla said, pointing his finger at Marcus this time. "There won't be a trial for you. I've got other plans. "In fact, I should have you beheaded or thrown off the Tarpeian rock.”

(Tarpeian rock: A steep cliff on the south side of the Capitoline Hill that was used in Ancient Rome as a site of execution. Murderers, traitors, perjurors, and larcenous slaves, if convicted by the quaestores parricidii, were flung from the cliff to their deaths.)

"For what offence?" Your body was shaking.

"Treason of course!" He shouted.

Macrinus intervened. "Your Majesty, your people respect or General Acacius and they have made great hero out of him. It would be unwise to have him executed. You might draw the public's ire to yourself. Angering them will only work against you."

"How do you mean? Should I let him walk free, Macrinus?" Caracalla shouted at him angrily.

Macrinus looked at Marcus. "No, of course not. I just want to say that there are other ways that the public will be satisfied with. And you of course, Your Majesty."

"And what are those ways, I wonder?”

You were getting nervous as he spoke, what was he planning?

“Games,” he said. “We could set up some fighting games, and Acacius could fight in the Colosseum to win his freedom.”

“No way!” You let out a cry of protest.

"Why do you object, or you do not trust your husband's fighting strength?" Caracalla enquired with a hint of irony. "It is a good decision, Macrinus I liked it."

You looked at Marcus. But he was staring at Caracalla. "What about my men? I demand their release, Your Majesty. They have nothing to do with my treachery." Marcus said the word treachery through clenched teeth.

"I deny it, Acacius! They are as guilty as you are, and they will take their share of your punishment and fight along with you in the Colosseum!"

"Your Majesty, I suggest that you reconsider this!" Marcus said loudly.

"Shut up!" Caracalla approached him. "That dusty ground of the Colosseum will become your grave, you will lose your reputation, your name will be forgotten! I will burn your villa to the ground with your slaves inside! And your wife Aurelia..." He eyed you up and down. "She will be confined for the rest of her life! Do you hear me?"

He gestured to Flavius, who grabbed you by the arm and pulled you away from Marcus.

"Don't you dare to touch her!" Marcus lunged towards him but the guards grabbed him by the arm and pulled him back hard.

"Marcus!" You reached for him, but Flavius was holding your arm tightly.

"Take your hands off the Princess now!" Geta shouted too, but Flavius ignored him.

“My name may be forgotten, but your name will be remembered with hatred for generations to come!” Marcus roared. “You will face the hatred of your people! Your reign will come to an end!”

“Get him out of my sight!” Caracalla shouted. “Throw him in one of the pits in the Colosseum with all his men!”

"No, please! Brother please!" You begged. Tears welled up in your eyes.

He didn't care.

“MARCUS!” You screamed at the top of your lungs as the guards dragged him out. Flavius then released you, but couldn't feel your legs and collapsed. Geta crouched, put his arm around your shoulder, you rested your head on his chest, sobbing, crying.

“Lock them in their rooms, I want two men at every door!” You weren't looking at Caracalla, but you knew he was talking about you and Geta.

First day of the games.

The Colosseum was host to a game that was somewhat unique today. The announcement of the accusation and sentence of General Marcus Acacius had been made public, and many people had gathered here in the early hours. It would be fair to say that the vast majority viewed this man as a hero. The loud shouts of the crowd mingled with the sound of drums and trumpets. For the first time, Marcus was not pleased to hear his name shouted by the crowd, despite being aware of their admiration. The reason was straightforward: his wife Aurelia was absent from the Imperial stand. They had taken her away from him. Caracalla and Geta were seated in their customary positions. It appeared that Caracalla wished to keep his brother, who had committed treason, close by.

However, Geta, like Marcus, was even less enthusiastic about being there for the first time. As Marcus and his soldiers saluted them before the fight commenced, Geta and he locked eyes. If only I could hear him at this distance, he thought. I wish he would tell me something about Aurelia. Then Geta nodded at him as if he could read something his mind. ‘She's alright,’ he mimicked with his lips. And that was it! That was enough for Marcus to feel strong and defeat everyone and everything in the arena. On top of that, he had his most trusted men with him this time, his soldiers. They'd fought side by side on the battlefield, and they were ready to do the same here.

"Octavius!" Marcus called out. He gave him a heads-up about the barbarian warrior coming up behind him. Octavius dodged the attack and, led by Marcus, they all took up an attacking position, targeting one barbarian warrior and quickly overcoming them. There were just two barbarians left. Marcus signaled to his soldiers to stay back and calmly took a step forward, challenging the remaining barbarians with his outstretched arm. They both charged towards him with their swords but missed. Marcus expertly dodged their attacks and cut them with his sharp sword. The crowd went wild. Geta laughed and applauded. For the first time, Caracalla responded to his laughter by cursing angrily. Marcus, with his sword bathed in a crimson red, made his way towards the barbarian, who was lying on the ground, apparently nearing the end of his life. He then looked at Caracalla.

Caracalla turned his thumb down. Marcus killed the barbarian with a swift move. As the crowd chanted Marcus' name, Caracalla sulked and sank into his seat. "Ugh! Too fast and too boring! Well, fortunately, this is a three-day game and we're only on day one."

"How exciting!" Geta teased.

Caracalla frowned and turned his head towards Macrinus who was already approaching. "Have your new gladiators arrived, Macrinus?"

"Yes, Your Majesty. They are preparing for tomorrow's game." He said, smiling at him.

"That's good. I hope tomorrow will bring the defeat of Acacius and his men." He looked at them with a hint of displeasure. Then he stood up. "Come, brother. It's time to leave."

Marcus was keeping an eye on them from a distance, his gaze shifting to Flavius, who was following behind them. He clenched his fists as he watched them until they were out of sight. He made a vow to himself. He was going to win these games, no matter what. He had to win the Emperor's approval to be free. Then he could leave here and get you to safety. After that, he could take care of Flavius and Macrinus. Even if he never became a general again, that would not matter to him. He did not believe that Caracalla would reinstate him, anyway. That night, staying in the same pit with the gladiators but in separate cells, he was thinking about all this and you.

You spent the entire day in a state of mental and emotional distress, seeking solace through prayer. You were rather concerned about Marcus, eager to receive any news from him. However, the guards at the door of your room would never let you out. You hated this room. Never expected to feel this way about it, nor to return here in this way. While you watched the birds singing cheerfully outside the window, you felt a longing to be free like them. You were also concerned about those in the villa and you prayed for them too. However, Marcus was on your mind constantly. Nothing made sense without him. You were feeling lost, incomplete. In the evening there was a knock at the door. Geta's slave had brought dinner. The girl noticed that the food on the morning tray had not been touched. She looked at you with a concerned and sad expression.

"My lady, please try to eat a little."

"I do not feel hungry," you murmured.

She glanced at the guards and then looked back at you. "If you could do it for your child." The girl was a little too insistent in her tone. You turned to her. She gave you a nod with her head. She indicated the plate on the tray with a gesture. You noticed a piece of paper under the plate. Had someone wrote you a note? You looked at the guards. They were standing at the door and wouldn't let it close when the slave girl was inside. You had to come up with an excuse. "Alright then. I'll eat, but first you help me get dressed. I need to change my dress." you said loudly looking at the guards. "Close the door, I need to get dressed."

The guards nodded and obeyed. You immediately took the paper from the tray.

"Emperor Geta wrote to you," she said quietly.

"Or perhaps it is about Marcus?" you asked, opening the little paper.

"I am not quite sure, my lady. He's in a similar situation to you, confined in a way. I couldn't even speak to him properly." You could sense the sadness in her voice, you touched her hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. "Do not you worry. I'm sure everything will be alright and we'll be released soon." You felt like you also convincing yourself desperately.

The girl replied with a smile.

You turned your gaze to the paper to read what Geta had written.

"My dear sister. I hope you're doing well. I'm really concerned about you, so it would be great if you send me a response. What do you think of this solution huh? You must think I'm pretty smart, you do not? Come now, be honest." -Even so, he still managed to make you smile- "Anyway, Acacius and his men fought well today. You should have seen Caracalla's face when they won the game. It looked like a little monkey's butt. Whatever. Acacius, he's fine, don't you worry about him. If he wins the next two games, he'll be free. And I'm quite sure he will. Oh, and you never told me you were carrying a child, which I'm still upset about. Well, take care of yourself and the child, and eat your food. I'm waiting for your secret response letter. We'll be free soon, I promise. Kisses.”

Sighing, you crumpled up the paper and put it in the wooden box, closing it up. Fortunately, he had some good news. You felt a little relieved. You then looked around your room for some paper and a pen. The girl whispered to you. "Here, my lady," she said, pulling out the ink, reed pen and paper she had tucked into her belt.

"You are really well prepared," you said, smiling at her. She giggled. You sat down and the girl helped you to write a reply for Geta.

"Brother, I'm alright, please don't worry.  I must say, this solution is really clever and I am very grateful for it. Many thanks for the good news about him. I hope we'll all be free soon. I know you won't get anywhere near Marcus, but if you get a chance, I'd appreciate it if you'd tell him I love him. Please look after yourself around Caracalla. I await your letter about tomorrow."

You handed the paper to the girl. She tucked it into her belt to deliver it to Geta.

Day two of the Games.

The atmosphere in the Colosseum today was somewhat different from that of yesterday. It seemed that the crowd flocking to this giant structure was more enthusiastic today. 

Marcus and his soldiers were going over their plan of fight while sharpening their swords. A tougher fight awaited them today. The gladiators were well trained, but unlike them, this was their first time in the Colosseum. Before long, the drums started beating and they were announced.

“Honos et Virtus! (Honor and virtue!) For freedom!” They shouted together, tapping each other on the shoulder. With swords drawn, they made their way to the arena, accompanied by the sound of drums and  the enthusiastic cheering of the crowd. It was pretty unlikely that they could pull off a fight like this on such short notice. But since Caracalla had declared them criminals, he'd ordered that there should be no interruption, one day after another. No matter how strong or experienced they were, it wasn't something an ordinary soldier could take easily. However, losing wasn't an option for Marcus. He encouraged them accordingly and spurred them on. Before start, and saluting emperor, Geta and Marcus shared a look that was just like yesterday. Marcus smiled in response to Geta's positive gestures.

“Oh, this is so ridiculous,” Geta muttered. “I feel like I'm flirting with a girl.”

“What was that? What did you say?” Caracalla leaned in towards him.

“Nothing, just thinking out loud.”

“And you call me mad.”

“But you are,” Geta said. “You're treating me like a caged animal. Locking me when I've done nothing wrong.”

"Be glad I didn't kill you," said Caracalla arrogantly. "Since I've tried it before and I can do it again."

"What did you say?" Geta looked at him with wide eyes.

Caracalla laughed. "If Aurelia hadn't saved you that night, you'd be with the Gods now. You would be dead."

Geta preferred to look at him in astonishment rather than watch the game. Of course, he had thought about it, but he could not digest his cold-blooded confession. At that moment he realised that everything was in vain. That he still saw him as his brother, that he respected him a little. To go to Aurelia for him. Suddenly he found himself feeling guilty. Tasting these new feelings, he set himself a goal: to kill him. No matter what, today or tomorrow. He had to die.

While Geta was planning to kill Caracalla somehow, Marcus and his soldiers kept up the fight against the gladiators. Despite the gladiators outnumbering them, they were able to prevail over them by watching each other's backs and acting in a spirit of brotherhood. Caracalla gave a thumbs up, decided that the remaining gladiators be to live. That came as a surprise to everyone. Macrinus seemed really pleased, and Geta noticed. They all had some injuries, including Marcus himself, but they weren't too severe. Marcus had a small scratch on his cheek. Octavius had a cut on his calf, and the others had cuts on their arms and legs. They were also pretty tired. They were in need of a rest, but they knew that Emperor Caracalla wouldn't let them. That night, as Marcus examined his brothers' wounds, he was filled with concern for the following day. It was possible that Caracalla and Macrinus had something big in store for the final day.

It was just after midnight when the sound of the iron gates opening was carried away on the breeze that had picked up the dust from the stone walls. Marcus and the others were soon aware that Cato and a soldier were approaching, and they rose to their feet immediately.

"Cato! It's Cato, sir!" Octavius said in a cheerful manner.

Marcus grasped the iron bars. "Cato? What are you doing here?"

Cato looked sad. "Sir, I am very truly saddened by all this."

"Cease weeping now, Cato," Octavius chastised him.

"Have you heard anything from the villa?"

Cato shook his head slowly. Octavius was growing impatient and reached his arm through the iron bars and grabbed his collar. “Speak!"

Marcus touched his shoulder as a warning. Cato took a deep breath. "Sir, when I went to the villa, I found that it had unfortunately been plundered, the soldiers you had positioned there had been murdered.”

Marcus slammed his palm against the iron bars in frustration.

“What about the others? The slaves?” Octavius asked.

"I'm not sure, but none of them were there."

"They must have been detained." Marcus hissed. "Along with all my property, everything I have."

Octavius kicked the bars angrily.

“I was watching Palatine Hill, the Domus Severiana,” Cato said. Marcus looked at him. Cato continued. “Lady Aurelia, I couldn't see her, but I'm certain that she's there.”

"She's under home detention," Marcus said his voice cracked. "Keep watching there. I need to find out how often Flavius and his guards go there and what they do. I need you to keep an eye on things for me until I get out of here. Can you do that?"

He nodded. "Yes, sir!"

The soldier who'd been keeping an eye on the corridor during the conversation came over to them. "Sir, General, I need to get Cato out of here before the guards at the gate realise."

Marcus nodded. "I am indebted to you." He said, and the soldier nodded in respect. Then he turned to Cato. "Cato, be cautious. Whatever you do, don't let Flavius notice you.”

"Yes, sir. I'll pray for you to win tomorrow," he said, looking at each of them. He threw his arms up. "Hodie Ruditapes Leo!' (Today the lion roars!)"

"Hodie Ruditapes Leo!' (Today the lion roars!)" They all repeated, their smiles confident and assured.

As you read Geta's note that evening, you noticed a difference in his writing style compared to the previous day. It seemed more serious. You were curious as to why and felt a little frustrated that you were not allowed to talk to him freely. Yet, you were really grateful to him for coming up with this solution.  It was like he'd given you a breath of air when you felt like you were stuck in this room. Fortunately, there was more good news. Marcus and his soldiers had won. The only thing left to do was get through tomorrow. If Marcus were to emerge victorious from the games tomorrow, it would mean that Caracalla would no longer have the authority to detain him. So maybe you could be freed and return to the villa together before the trial. You had to find out what happened there and see if everyone was well. In accordance with the law, everything you have to be confiscated, including your slaves. It might even be the case that they could have been sold to other people. The mere thought of that made your chest hurt. However, this is not a possibility at such short notice, and certainly not before a decision has been made by the court.

Sitting on the large bed, illuminated by the moonlight that filtered through the long window, you read the short note that Geta had sent you, thinking of him as you traced your thumb over the word 'Marcus'.

You sensed that he was thinking of you too. Actually you were certain. You implored Jupiter, as you rubbed your belly with a hand over it. "Please, my lord. I beseech you. I pray that you spare him to me, to our child. Be his constant companion and his strength in fight, refuge in every adversity. Guide him, my lord, that he may return to me safely."

Day three of the Games.

Present day.

"Remember, we have to win no matter what. If we lose, we will not only lose our lives, but our families, their future and reputation."

They nodded, but their eyes betrayed their doubts. Some of them were exhausted and deeply wounded. Marcus knew that if one lost, they all would. He had to give them what they needed: strength and courage.

“Brothers, do you remember those words I spoke to you two years ago on the Libyan front?”

They looked at each other and nodded in aggrement. He went over to the soldier who was struggling the most and put a hand on his shoulder.

"I mentioned a dark place inside us, a place that can give you strength even when you feel you have none left. You're injured and you're feeling drained. It was just like that day. We were outnumbered that day and it looked like we were going to lose. I don't think any other army would have been able to win with such a small number of people. But we managed to beat the odds and find a way to win. We'll do the same today." He went over to another soldier and looked at him. He had a wound on his arm. "Now I want you to discover that dark place inside you. He turned to another soldier. "Felix. I see you're badly wounded in the leg. Does it hurt?"

The soldier looked at his leg. "Yes, sir."

"Do you feel that place? Do you hear that voice screaming at you that you're going to lose?"

He lowered his head. "Yes, sir.”

"Do you think you can run from here to the gate? Or will it make the wound in your leg worse?"

He looked at him uncertainly. "It could be a lot worse, sir."

"That's not the answer I'm seeking, Felix!" he shouted at him. “When you get to the arena, you'll need to run and be quick. The warriors trying to kill you there will jump on you to finish you off as soon as they realise that you're scared.” He gave his shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “Our mind rules our body and it rules this dark place! It cannot direct the body of one who is afraid! Because he is doomed to lose. When you die over there, you will only lose your life. Your family however, will lose their citizenship and be known as the family of a traitor. Your friends will lose a brother. I will lose a good soldier! Now, tell me, will you confront that dark place, face your fears, fight along with us to win?" Marcus looked into his eyes. Felix inhaled and nodded firmly. “I will, sir!”

Marcus smiled. "Good. I trust that you will. From now on, it doesn't matter what you like or don't like, what you're upset about, what you think you've been wronged, your fears, your anxieties, nothing matters." Marcus raised his index finger. "Only one thing matters: Survival. Now tell me. Will you fight by my side and survive? Are you with me?"

The soldiers looked at each other and nodded, and then they all drew their swords and raised them.

"We're with you, sir!"

"Yes sir!"

They all shouted in unison with enthusiasm. Marcus raised his sword. “Vae Victis!”

The soldiers repeated it back to him. The sound of their voices echoed off the stone walls. A little later, the sound everyone was waiting for was heard! The iron gates opened with a loud noise as their names were announced. The sound of drums, pipes, the voices of the crowd, whistles and applause filled the air. Everyone was brimming with excitement as they sat in their seats at the Colosseum, eager for the final game day. Geta and Caracalla were sitting in their usual seats. Macrinus came up to emperor and whispered something in his ear. Geta tried to focus on what he was saying, but the noise made it difficult to hear.

"Today will be the end of Acacius." Caracalla said to Geta, in an excited tone.

"You speak too precisely, brother. They've only just begun!

“This is the end! There's no doubt about it." He snapped. "His end. He is going to die today.” His hands were shaking. Geta squinted at his hands then his face. “I will get rid of him no matter what.”

At that moment, Geta became aware that something was being planned. He was fairly certain that Macrinus and Flavius were involved. But what could it be? He considered the option of killing his brother at that moment. However, he was unable to give orders to the guards.  He knew his own end was near. Just after Marcus. Maybe even yours. Caracalla was completely lost. He has to be the one to die today, but how? Geta thought.

Marcus and his men were in fine spirits as they engaged in combat with the gladiators who had previously fought and whose lives Caracalla had graciously spared. However, before long, two hatches opened on the ground of the arena, and a loud roar was heard as two tigers suddenly appeared. Caracalla was visibly amused and expressed his approval with a hearty laugh and a clap of his hands. The crowd expressed their delight with enthusiastic shouts.

“Where did these tigers come from?” Geta was rather puzzled.

"Didn't you like my surprise?'"

"I thought we'd run out of wild animals?" Geta grunted.

"And I thought we could make do with these until the rhino was brought in. They were only brought in last week. Macrinus went to great lengths to get them from Libya."

Geta squinted at him. "I am sure he did.”

Marcus got his men together and gave them a few strategies. After all, none of them had ever fought tigers, so they tried to stay calm. The gladiators had a similar plan of action. The two groups were ready to attack each other, using the tigers as a dangerous tool. The gladiators advanced towards them with shields and spears. Marcus and his soldiers numbered six. Gladiators were four. However, one of the gladiators was so enormous that he could easily be counted as two men. Marcus had given his men another tactic about him: attack his leg first, so they could finish him off as soon as he fell to the ground. That was it. A moment later, Octavius lunged at his leg with his sword. And managed to cut deeply. Before long, the other soldier did the same, and the big man collapsed on the ground. But not before he'd punched them in the stomach and face. During the attack, Marcus lost one soldier, leaving him with five remaining. The battle was so intense that it was difficult to catch your breath. Everyone was exhausted and trying to outwit the enemy while dodging the claws and teeth of the tigers, which was harder than ever. After one intense battle, Marcus and his soldiers were down to four. As he saw the exhaustion on their faces, Marcus felt the first stirrings of fear. But he persevered and fought on. He managed to cut down one of the gladiators and one of the tigers.

The crowd went wild with excitement. His success gave the remaining soldiers the encouragement they needed to keep fighting with everything they had. And soon the cries of victory were heard in the arena. The gladiators were all defeated by the glorious Roman soldiers and their General. The crowd cheered his name with delight. They gave each other a big hug and saluted the crowd.

And, It all happened so quickly.

"Now!" Caracalla shouted angrily. Geta turned his head towards Flavius, who raised his arm and looked at something, then lowered it as he gave an order to someone in the crowd. Out of the blue, Marcus was hit in the arm by a bolt from nowhere. If Octavius hadn't been a bit closer, it would probably have gone through his throat. Marcus let out a cry of pain. The crowd fell silent. Geta got to his feet. Caracalla looked at him, his hands clasped in delight.  He laughed wildly. The soldiers called out to their general. Then they quickly looked in the direction of the bolt. It was someone planted in the audience. It was against the rules. It was completely unacceptable. Caracalla was determined to see Marcus dead, so he came up with this plan.

However, he was soon disappointed to see that Marcus had broken the bolt and pulled it out of his arm. He was seething with rage. The soldiers picked up shields from the ground and formed a protective circle around their general. The crowd caught the attacker with the crossbow and beat him up. Caracalla got really angry and swore as he saw his plan fail. Geta looked at him and laughed cruelly.

Caracalla looked at him angrily and stood up. The crowd was chanting Marcus's name.

“I think that’s enough. Now It's time to set him free, brother. He has well earned it.”

He was aware of it. He looked at Flavius and the other guards and, with some reluctance, gave the order to open the great iron gate. Octavius, who was holding Marcus's arm, looked at him with concern.

"Sir, it looks like you've got a bit of a rough injury."

"No need to worry about my wound, brother. We survived. We won! That's all that matters." He smiled.

The soldiers looked at him. 'We won, sir!' Marcus gave them a tap on the shoulder, one by one. "I'm proud of you all."

Before long, the iron gate opened and Caracalla entered the arena as his name was announced. Geta was right behind him.  Marcus' smile faded. He considered grabbing the pugio from the ground, as this could be his only opportunity to kill him. However, if things did not go as planned, it could have unfortunate consequences. Besides, he had to think about his soldiers as well. At his command, they all dropped their swords and bowed their heads.

“Acacius, you really are a hard man to kill. You put me in a dilemma.”

He also noticed the pugio on the ground, covered in blood and dust. If he could get to it, he might be able to kill his brother right there and then. But he shouldn't let on. He glanced over at Marcus. He could see right through what he was up to.  He looked at the guards, who numbered eight. Could he take them down? No, he'd have to be declared free first. He decided to wait.

Geta bent down and picked up the pugio.

“Would you like one of the tiger's teeth, brother?” he said, looking at Caracalla, trying hard to hide his intentions.

Caracalla gave a shrug and seemed confused. “Alright, but first I must announce the verdict the people are waiting for.”

Marcus and Geta exchanged glances. And the decision has been made.

Caracalla cleared his throat and announced his decision in a voice the crowd could hear. “Marcus Acacius! By the authority of Roman law, I declare you free!”

The crowd cheered and whistled. They began to chant Caracalla's name. Caracalla held up his hand and signalled for them to be silent.

"But you're not a Roman general anymore. You're not even serving in the military any longer. You'll be exiled. You'll lose all your authority and you'll have to live outside Rome for the rest of your life."

The crowd suddenly fell silent, and after a few murmurs, people started to protest.

“General! General! General! General! General! General!”

“Silence! You filthy rats! How dare you? I shall kill all of you!” Caracalla yelled at them.

It all happened so fast. Geta threw the pugio at Marcus while Caracalla looking at the crowd. He skilfully grasped the pugio and slashed Caracalla's throat with a move faster than the wind. Nobody even noticed for the first few minutes because it happened so fast. As soon as blood spurted from the cut on Caracalla's throat, he instinctively pressed his hands as if to make the wound stop bleeding.

His sapphire-coloured fancy toga, his golden necklace, all soaked with his own blood flowing between fingers through. He fell to the dusty ground as he collapsed lifelessly to his knees. His blood was leaking slowly, pooling around his lifeless body. Geta took the pugio from Marcus' hand and looked the guards in the eye, who had taken up their attacking positions.

"The tyrant emperor is dead! I am the only emperor! As a tyrant, his rules are null and void!"

This was indisputably the case. The rules of the emperor, who had been legally declared a tyrant with the approval of the Senate, were therefore legally invalid. Geta had planned well, and the people were happy about it. After all, they were now shouting his name. Even when the blood continued to flow from his brother's lifeless body. Now he has to convince the council next. Marcus and his soldiers bowed their heads to him. The guards too. Then Marcus's eyes shift to the imperial tribune, he tensed up when he couldn't see Flavius or Macrinus there.

"Your Majesty, I need to know if your sister, my wife Aurelia, is still at Palatine Hill."

“Yes,” Geta said, also looking at the tribune. He turned his head to Marcus, his eyes wide. “That cunt Macrinus and his filthy dog Flavius.” He hissed.

Marcus looked at his soldiers. “Octavius, you are with me. The others will remain with Emperor Geta to ensure his safety and protection."

Geta tapped Marcus on the shoulder. "Acacius, there is no need for concern about my safety now. Go and ensure my sister is safe."

Marcus nodded nervously. Quickly, he and Octavius made their way towards the iron gate to leave the Colosseum.

Macrinus strode purposefully down the steps of the Colosseum, determined to catch up with Flavius. He looked around and saw that people on the streets were talking about Caracalla's death with great enthusiasm.

“Sir Flavius! Where do you think you're going?” Macrinus shouted at him.

They were both furious. "Tell your men to move now! We need to act fast while he's still in there."

Flavius grabbed his horse's reins. "I don't care about Emperor Geta! You told me Acacius would die there today!"

“Your man couldn't shoot him, so that's not my fault! Now is the time to take down Geta as we planned. We must finish him before he is officially proclaimed. Then, when I ascend the throne, I will finish Acacius myself, just as I promised you.”

"Your perfect plan didn't do shit!" He barked.

"I made you Prateon Prefect! I gave you  power!" Macrinus shouted.

Flavius shook his head. "I don't give a damn about your throne or the power you gave me! You promised you'd finish Acacius, but you couldn't. Our deal is off. "I'll finish him myself!" He leapt onto his horse. Macrinus was enraged.

"What the hell are you talking about? Where are you going?”

"I was wrong to go along with your stupid plan. I am going to do what I should have done all along. I'll take away what's most precious to him. Then he'll learn what loss means."

Macrinus was taken aback when he realised what he was talking about. 'No! You cannot!' "I need Princess Aurelia. Don't you dare touch her!"

"I will have my revenge with or without you!" He yelled, kicked his horse forward.

Macrinus called a few of the guards to his side and ordered them to follow him.

It was the afternoon, you were resting in bed, nervously awaiting, hoping for good news. Then there was a noise, a clinking of swords, and you heard the guards at the door hurrying away. The sound of their metal armour echoed with every footstep. You approached the door to see what was happening. As soon as you opened the door, you saw Geta's slave rushing to your side.

"My lady. You must leave immediately. Come with me." She grasped your hand and pulled you with her.

"What's going on?"

She put her finger to her lips. "We have to be quiet. I'll tell you."

As soon as you stepped into the courtyard, she pulled you towards the corner and guided you to hide behind the wall. You peeked out and noticed Flavius.

“They're looking for you.” She whispered.

Before you could ask anything the girl tugged you by the hand again. The other slaves noticed, rushing towards you.

"This way, my lady."

"Why are they looking for me? Or has something happened to Marcus?”

"I am not sure, my lady. The Commander of the Guard has just killed three of his men. They attempted to prevent him from entering. I heard them talking about you. You must leave before he notices you."

Your heart was beating fast. Your throat felt dry. As you approached the entrance door, you saw three of the guards were lying on the floor covered in blood.

"My Lady!” A familiar voice called out to you.

You looked in that direction and saw Cato, who was waiting for you outside the entrance door, holding the reins of a horse. You looked around for Marcus, but he was not there.

“Stop right there!”

You gasped when you heard Flavius's loud voice.

"My Lady, get on the horse now!" Cato drew his sword, staring at Flavius as he ran towards you.

"Cato, I-" Your voice cracked.

"You are the one he wants! Just go!"

You nodded, tears in your eyes, and quickly climbed onto the horse, kicking it forward.

When you looked back, you saw Cato taking up a defensive position, you turned your head. You tried to hold back your tears and gripped the horse's reins tighter. You had no idea where you were supposed to go. But it seemed a bad idea to head into the city and the streets, after all he was the commander of the guards and they were everywhere. So you rode on a road that led straight out of city center. You turned your head and looked back again. It didn't look like anyone was coming after you, but you had to be sure. After a while you heard drums and an announcement: “Be aware! Emperor Caracalla is dead! He is dead! He is dead!” You slowed your horse down.

How? When? You asked yourself in shock. And what about Marcus? Why isn't anyone talking about him?

People were looking at you with curiosity as you were a little bewildered and trying to figure out what to do. Before you knew it, you heard the sound of a horse's neigh coming behind you and people screamed. You looked back and saw Flavius on his horse, your heart felt like it was going to burst out of your chest. As you pulled the reins in a hurry, your bracelet caught on the fabric of your dress and slipped off your wrist, falling to the ground, causing a tinkling sound. The bracelet was precious to you, but you had to keep going. You just couldn't let him catch you.

You decided to ride the horse into the woods, with the intention of disappearing from view. As Flavius followed you, he saw Cato catching up with him. He drew his sword, turned his horse around and struck Cato with the sword. Cato fell to the ground, screaming in pain. The sword had hit his armour, so he wasn't dead, but he was frustrated. The distance between you and him had grown, and you were feeling pretty tired, so you decided to get off your horse and go through the trees to get to the other side of the city and the Colosseum. But it was a long way to walk. As soon as you heard Flavius' horse, you started running. He saw your silhouette and grinned.

"So you want to play tag, eh, princess?" He dismounted. "You should be aware of that, though. It's my favourite game." He drew his sword, following the tracks you left.

It was really hard to move through the forest without making a sound, especially with the long stola you were wearing. You kept tripping over thorns and bushes as you walked. As he was good at tracking, Flavius was following you calmly, smiling at every crunching noise you made.He crouched down to observe a trail on the ground. "If you surrender now, I promise I won't hurt you.” He grinned cruelly.

You were shaking with fear and trying to calm yourself down. You grabbed the fabric of your stola, pulled it up and tucked it into the belt around your waist, exposing your ankles but at least allowing you to move forward without making a sound. You soon came across a large, thick clump of bushes right next to a puddle. A tree root had created a small cave-like hollow in the soil. You decided to take shelter there because you were really tired. You took your knife out, picked it up, remain still, waiting in silence.

Upon arriving at Palatine Hill, Marcus was met with a gruesome scene: the guards and slaves lying lifeless on the ground. He was too late. Then he saw the slave girl running towards him. She was wounded, but managed to inform them and showed them the direction you were headed. Without a moment's hesitation, Marcus and Octavius mounted their horses and rode off in that direction.

"They must have gone out of the city. I think we should go that way," Octavius said.

"I will head there! We must split-up! You ride down the city, in case of the unexpected!" Marcus pointed down the street.

"Yes, sir!" Octavius rode his horse down the road.

Marcus was just about to kick his horse into a trot when he noticed some children playing with a gold bracelet. It looked familiar. He jumped off his horse, approached them and grabbed it. He knew this bracelet well, because he was the one who gave it to you.

"Where did you get this, child?" he asked one of them.

The child pointed ahead and Marcus rub child's head, then quickly got back on his horse and rode in that direction.

“Princess? Where are you hiding? You know I'll find you eventually. And when I do…”

That sick bastard, you thought. You were glad he didn't sound close. You decided that going the other way would be a better idea. Waiting here was pointless. It made you feel like you were caught in a trap. Just as you were about to stand up, you heard a hissing sound and your eyes widened in shock as you saw a snake ahead. You covered your mouth with your hand to stop yourself screaming. You jumped back. You had to kill the snake before Flavius saw you. You knew he would see you if you stood up. You held your knife tight, aiming at the snake. You missed on your first try but stabbed it the second time. You felt sick, both from the blood flowing from the snake and from this overwhelming feeling of fear.

With your survival instinct, an idea came to your mind. The snake was a viper, which is known to be highly poisonous. Even though it was dead, there was still venom in its fangs. You knew how to get the venom since you'd already produced antivenom many times before, but it was too dangerous with bare hands. You tore the fabric from the hem of your dress, wrapped it around your hand and pressed the dead snake's head to open its mouth and extract the venom from its fangs. The venom was leaking out in a bright yellowish colour. You held your breath and applied the venom to the surface of your knife. You weren't sure how, but you had to cut Flavius somewhere on his body with this knife.

"Found you!"

You froze. His voice was right behind you. Just as you were about to run forward, he grabbed you by the hair and yanked hard. You let out a cry of pain. He yanked your hair harder, turning you to face him.

"I told you to surrender, princess." He grinned.

You lunged at his exposed arm with your knife. He wasn't expecting you to have a knife, so he was caught off guard and you managed to cut him. Flavius let out a cry of pain, and when he released your hair, you took the opportunity to step back. He realised it wasn't just a normal cut when he started rubbing it with his hand. The poison had mixed with his blood and caused him terrible pain as it spread through his veins. He groaned loudly and then looked at you angrily.

“You whore!” He grabbed you by the arm and hit you hard in the face. You stumbled backward and fell. You crawled away from him with all your strength. “I said I wouldn't hurt you, but I changed my mind.”

He grabbed your hair again, yanked, turned you around, so he was right on top of you.  His weight made it difficult for you to breathe. "I'm really going to hurt you. A lot." Flavius was running his pugio over your face. You felt the sharp edge of the knife against your skin as you fought against him.

A horse neighed loudly in the distance and you both looked in that direction. He uttered a curse and raised his pugio to stab you. Then, you heard footsteps running towards you and a familiar angry roar, then Marcus appeared and jumped on Flavius, pushing his body off you. They rolled on the grass. After his weight lifted off of you, you took a deep breath and looked at them. They were locked in a fierce struggle, punching each other with groans.

Marcus drew his pugio and stabbed him in the leg, then punched him in the face. He quickly got on top of him and started hitting him in the face again and again. Flavius was struggling to breathe, but he managed to hit the wound on his arm. Marcus groaned in pain. He seized the opportunity to kick him. This time Marcus was on the ground. You were shaking, but you had to think fast. As soon as you realised your knife was on the ground, you ran to it. You snatched it and forced yourself to remember the attack moves Marcus had taught you before. You lunged, aiming for Flavius' neck, who was punching Marcus in the face. Marcus hit Flavius with his elbow and realised you were approaching.

“Aurelia!” he shouted, holding out his hand as if to stop you.

Flavius had his pugio in his hand and could have cut you down in an instant. But you were the first to act. As soon as he turned his head towards you, you stabbed him in the throat with your knife. His eyes widened in surprise as blood gushed from the open cut in his throat onto your face, your clothes and your hands. He reached for the knife, grasping it as if he intended to pull it out. But he was wheezing and choking on his own blood as he tried to breathe. You stared at him, your eyes wide with shock. Marcus's voice sounded muffled to your ears. He shook you by the shoulders, but you were completely numb and paralysed. As Flavius' lifeless body collapsed to the ground, you looked at your hands. They were red and wet. Your gaze fell upon Flavius' body again. The blood flowing out of his throat was slow, the effect of the poison, you thought.

Marcus took your face in his hands. Seeing the faint smile on his face, feeling his touch on your skin, your body came back to life.

“Aurelia my love? Are you alright? Speak please, say anything.” He sounded concerned.

“M. Marcus, I... I killed him.” You mumbled.

Marcus wrapped his arms tightly around you.

“Shhh, I know.” He whispered. His hands ran through your hair which was smeared with blood in some places. He rubbed your head and kissed over and over, exhaling with relief. Then he looked at you once more, his eyes holding yours in a gaze that was both intense and unwavering. "It's over, my love. You are safe now." He wiped the blood from your face with his fingers. He kissed your temple and touched his forehead to yours. You stayed like that for a while. Then you heard horses neighing in the distance.

“Sir!”

Octavius and Cato leapt off their horses and ran to you.

"Are you alright, my lady? Sir?" Octavius asked. His eyes then travelled over Flavius' body.

“We are now,” Marcus answered for you.

Octavius moved towards Flavius' body and spat a curse at him.

"Cato, give me a hand," Marcus said, and he helped you to your feet, but your legs were shaking. He wrapped his arms around you and lifted you into his arms. Cato held the horse's reins to keep it still. He approached the horse and carefully helped you on. Then he climbed on and settled behind you. He pulled you against his chest and grasped the horse's reins. "Hang in there, my love," he said firmly. Accompanied by Octavius and Cato, he rode slowly toward Palatine Hill.

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[avocado-writing]

Kinktober #20

20. Infidelity - Cuckolding // Cunnilingus // Threesome (Logan Howlett x Reader x Wade Wilson - this is for you, that one anon)

You’re at orgasm ten and they aren’t slowing down. 

That’s the problem when you have two not-quite-human lovers: their stamina is fucking insane. Barely any refractory period either. All you can do is hope that you can keep up with them… and that your body doesn’t goddamn give out.

It kinda is giving out, though.

“One more…” Logan growls, moving his way up your prone form like an animal. You choke on the idea of wringing any extra pleasure from yourself. Your cunt is leaking with a mix of cum: yours, Logan’s, Wade’s; a sinful cocktail soaking into the sheets. You can’t keep anything inside you any more. You’re full. 

“Logan, no,” you say, firmly, slapping his shoulder with as much effort as you can muster. He looks down at you, and those soft puppy eyes remind you why you see him as such an obedient dog at times. 

“You okay, baby?” he asks, backing down immediately when he is chastised.

“I’m gonna die on this bed Logan. You’ve made me orgasm my soul out,” you sigh, relieved for your poor pussy that he’s so willing to listen. Next to you on the bed Wade is half-hard again but even he looks exhausted.

“Now normally my rampant machismo would require me to see this through until one of us had jizz leaking out our nose, but for the sake of our pookie here I’m happy to call it a draw.”

It had been so stupid, the lead up to his. The three of you lazing around, enjoying each other’s company and watching a movie. A sex scene had come on and it had got the three of you talking, which had got the two of them arguing. Who did you most enjoy making you come? It was a conversation you didn’t want to get in the middle of but apparently you didn’t have a choice. 

“C’mon, one of us has gotta get you wet and wilder than the other,” Wade had said, walking his fingers along your leg. You’d rolled your eyes.

“I like fucking you both, boys. Can we finish watching Australia now?”

“That means it’s me,” Wade had whispered, and Logan hadn’t wanted to take that lying down. Well… without you lying down, anyway.

So they took you to the bedroom and tried to make you compare. Fingers, mouths, cocks, all of it; and now your poor cunt might have friction burn. At some point it stopped being who could fuck you better and who could fuck you more, eke orgasm out of orgasm from your exhausted body and have you moaning for it. You’re not sure how they can keep going. How have they got any goddamn cum left in them, you’re sure it’s all over your cunt and abdomen at this point.

When Logan runs a gentle finger between your folds you hiss, part because of the sting and part from delight. You’re so high on a cloud of pleasure you can’t imagine anything else now.

“Look at you baby, you’re a mess…” he sighs, gravelly voice full of affection as he sees the canvas they’ve made of your body. If their skin could hold scars they’d be covered in your scratch marks, your bites, your slaps as you grabbed handfuls of muscle and held on while they fucked you. Wade grabs Logan’s hand and licks the mixture of the three of you off his fingers, humming in contentment.

“Is it too much that I like licking stuff? I did it in the period sex one too, is it becoming an endearing habit, or…?”

“If the two of you still have a point to prove, why don’t you fuck each other?” you chuckle, trying to get comfortable on the mattress and only succeeding at having another squirt of come drip from your hole.

Their eyes lock over your body. You’ve set a challenge neither will back down from, and when Logan goes in for a fierce kiss Wade meets it with vigour.

“Good grief…” you chuckle, moving onto your side to watch them go at each other. You’ll enjoy not being the centre of the show for a while.

[izzyy-stuff]

𝐏𝐀𝐂𝐊𝐀𝐆𝐄 𝐊𝐄𝐄𝐏𝐄𝐑 - 𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐈 𝐁𝐄𝐎𝐌𝐆𝐘𝐔

bsf!beomgyu x fem!reader

in which your roommate keeps going through your packages, so you decide your next order will get delivered to your best friend's place instead.

wc 3.9k

warnings pet names, best friends to ???, sex toy, mutual masturbation, fingering, oral, unprotected sex + creampie, overstimulation I might have forgotten some

You were lying in your bed, your back against the wall, and a book in your hands. After spending the whole day at your job, a calm evening with your favorite book was something you needed.

You looked up at the sound of something falling coming from the hallway. Your roommate, you assumed. 

“Are you okay there?” You called, carefully listening to see if she would answer. But instead, you saw the door of your room open in one swift motion, making your eyes widen. “I am stealing these two,” she proclaimed, holding up two red tops. Clothes you ordered, you realized. “No, you’re not,” you answered calmly, closing your book and putting it on your side. “Those are things I paid for.” 

“But they would look so cute on me!” She protested, putting one in front of her shirt to show you. “See? It fits me perfectly!” 

“Put it back into the box.” 

You saw her pout as she turned around, murmuring something you couldn’t hear. You shook your head in disbelief, reaching for your book again. “And stop going through my packages!” You yelled after her, only being met by a simple “Yeah” from her. 

You sighed, knowing you couldn’t count much on what she said. She would open your next package again, no matter what it was or if you told her not to. You didn’t know why she did that, but it had been months since she started, and you had no idea what to do with it. 

That was why you were at your best friend's apartment now, complaining about it while he sat in his gaming chair, only partly listening to what you were saying as he had his left earbud in his ear to hear the game on his screen, too. 

“I don’t know, just order it to my place,” he proclaimed, unbothered. You knew he didn't care about your rant at the moment. He was too focused on his game. “Nice!” He yelled as he killed another enemy. You flinched, unprepared for the scream. “Can’t you turn the game off for a minute and actually listen to me?” You mumbled, becoming annoyed at how you always had to compete with some computer game for his attention. 

“Sweetheart, this is League we are talking about. No, I cannot turn it off,” he shook his head as if he couldn’t believe you seriously asked him that. “I just need to finish this fight, and then you’ll have my full attention. Give me ten minutes, yeah?” 

“Sure, Gyu,” you mumbled back, looking down into your lap.

Beomgyu, your best friend, has been in your life since high school. You two grew to be inseparable over the years, going through thick and thin together, but there was still something you couldn’t get used to, no matter what. He loved calling you nicknames as if the two of you were dating. Things like sweetheart, love, and angel were something you heard almost every day, but it still got you flustered each time. 

“Okay, I am all yours now, angel,” Beomgyu turned around on his chair, taking out his earbud to prove his point. You glanced at his monitor, noticing he had won the game. You smiled slightly, your eyes falling on your best friend right after. “So as I was saying,” you started again. “She still keeps going through all my stuff. She is home more often than I am, so she always gets to it first, and then the next thing I know, my package is opened, and half my clothes are missing,” you huffed, fixing your hair so it wouldn’t get in front of your face. 

“Like I said, just get it shipped here. I don’t care as long as you will come to pick it up, and I don’t have to get it to you,” Beomgyu shrugged, his eyes following every movement of your hand as you tugged your hair behind your ears. “You wouldn’t mind? I swear I will try not to order that many things.” 

“Anything for you. You know that,” Beomgyu nodded, catching the redness in your cheeks as the words left his mouth. His lips formed a smirk, but he kept quiet. He knew the memory of you blushing at what he said wouldn't leave his mind anytime soon, though. 

And just like that, you started putting his address under all your orders. It didn't matter if you ordered new clothes, lingerie, or books, you always shipped it to his house because you knew he wouldn’t open it. No matter how much of a tease and asshole he was sometimes, he still had some respect for you. 

♡⸝⸝

You whined as you opened your eyes at the sound of new messages on your phone. Ready to curse out whoever was texting you, you grabbed your phone from under your pillow, closing your eyes again when the screen light almost blinded you. 

Beomgyu has sent you a voicemail. You read from your phone, scoffing. Of course, it was Beomgyu. Who else would bother you so early? You tiredly clicked the play button, putting your phone down next to you and closing your eyes again, deciding to go back to sleep right after listening to it. 

“So, first of all, good morning, angel,” he proclaimed, his raspy morning voice echoing through your room. You weren’t ready for that. Nothing could prepare you for how close he sounded. It felt as if he was lying right beside you, whispering those words in your ear. You found yourself whisper-moaning, his voice sending shivers all over your body. You were fucked. Or more like - you needed to be fucked. 

“Second of all, I just got one of your packages. It’s light, so I assume it’s some clothes? I know I usually let it be as it is until you decide to pick it up, but I will be close to your apartment later so I can drop it off,” he informed you, but if you were honest, you weren’t even listening to what he was saying. All you could think about now was how the word Angel rolled on his tongue and how you needed him to call you that in his morning voice again. 

“That’s all I need. Sorry if I woke you up. Just let me know if I should bring it or not, alright? Okay, I need to get ready. I’ll talk to you later, sweetheart.” 

You breathed out as the voicemail finished, your thighs rubbing together without you even noticing at first. It’s been a long time since you last had good sex. That must be why you were behaving like this. It had nothing to do with your best friend's voice and his habit of calling you nicknames. Definitely not. 

“Oh, for fucks sake, Beomgyu,” you whined, your eyes now opened as you reached into your top drawer. You hesitated as you grabbed your vibrator, glancing at your phone again. It was wrong. You knew you shouldn’t be horny from your best friend’s voice, but you couldn’t help it. 

You pressed play once again, your hand slowly sliding into your pajama shorts as he greeted you good morning. You were wet already, and it was all thanks to his stupid hot voice. You whined as your finger carefully thrusted into your cunt, trying to turn on the vibrator with your other hand but failing miserably. “Fuck, what now?” You grunted, glancing at the toy. “No, no, no, do not die on me now,” you cried, seeing as it refused to turn on. It wasn’t that long since you charged it, so you knew there wasn’t a problem with that. 

You threw it aside, giving up on trying to figure it out as the voicemail came to an end again. It was too short. Not only Beomgyu's voice note but also your fingers. You needed something more. 

An hour later, you were back in your bed. After finally managing to finish on your fingers, you went to take a shower before you ran off to your room, taking your laptop. You scrolled for a little longer than you had expected you would before you finally found a new sex toy you liked. You knew you needed to buy the rose toy right after stumbling upon it. 

You hesitated as you started filling out the shipping address, biting your bottom lip. You knew you couldn’t have it delivered to your apartment. It would be a disaster if your roommate got to the package before you, but sending it to Beomgyu didn’t sound much better. After everything that happened in the morning, you weren’t sure if it was a good idea to ship it to his place. 

Still, you wrote down his address. In the worst-case scenario, you would blush as he handed you the package. There was nothing worse that could happen.

Or so you thought. 

“Yes, angel?” Your best friend asked immediately as he picked up your call. You cleared your throat, almost forgetting everything you wanted to say the moment he spoke. “Uhm, about the clothes. You don’t have to get it to me today,” you proclaimed, glancing at your laptop. “I just ordered another thing, so I’ll pick it up on Friday.” 

“Are you sure? I don’t mind taking it to you, really.” 

“It’s fine, Gyu,” you shook your head. “I’ll come get it on Friday.” 

“Okay,” he nodded, deciding it wasn’t worth it to convince you. “We can do our movie night then too, what do you think? Instead of Saturday if you’re already going to be here,” Beomgyu suggested. 

“Why not?” You agreed, smiling when he started telling you about a movie he already had in mind. This was how you two were supposed to be. Friends who talk about unimportant things on a call. Not lovers or anything similar. That was the last time you got off to his voice. You told yourself confidently. You had to get rid of whatever weird crush on your best friend you were getting. 

♡⸝⸝

Beomgyu groaned as he saw his character die, his head hitting the back of his chair. Nothing was going his way today. It was already the third game he lost, and Soobin’s laugh wasn’t helping much. “Man, you suck today.” Beomgyu rolled his eyes at him, about to press ready again when his doorbell rang. “Well, good thing I am ending for today then.” 

“Hey, don’t get pouty now. Let’s keep playing,” Soobin tried to stop him from leaving, but the next thing he knew, Beomgyu was already off the game. “You’re not seriously pissed, are you?” 

“No,” Beomgyu shook his head, disconnecting his headphones and taking his phone with Soobin still on the call to the door. “But someone is at the door, and my girl is coming later, remember?” 

“She is not your girl,” Soobin reminded him. “She basically is,” the younger male argued immediately. “Anyways, I have to go. I’ll talk to you later.” 

“Yeah, yeah,” Soobin shook his head at him. “At least make a move on her if you want to call her your girl.” With a quick “Mhm,” Beomgyu hung up the call, putting his phone into his pocket as he opened the front door, being met by the delivery guy. 

“Y/n y/l?” The older male asked, looking up from the package at the boy. “That’s my girlfriend,” Beomgyu proclaimed, reaching his hand towards the package. “Do you need me to sign anything?” 

“No, no need,” the delivery guy shook his head, tilting his head as he looked at Beomgyu. “I guess not all young guys can fulfill their girlfriend’s needs,” he laughed, handing him the box. 

Beomgyu stared at him confusedly, not saying anything as the older male left. He had to blink a few times to get back to reality, closing the front door again. He looked down at the box in his hands, and then, it hit him. He noticed the shop’s name written right above his address, scoffing. You were unbelievable, sending sex toys to his house as if it was nothing. He was sure you were crazy. 

He sat on the couch in his living room, putting his phone on a speaker and placing it next to him so he would have his hands empty. You picked up almost immediately, creating a smirk on his face as he tore open the box. 

“Is this what’s popular now?” He wondered, the sound catching your attention immediately. “A rose toy? Is that what you’re into?” He continued, making your eyes widen. “Beomgyu, what are you doing?” You asked, a wave of anxiety rushing through your whole body. “Calling you, what else,” Beomgyu answered, and you swore you could see the smirk on his face. “We agreed I would call you when your package arrives so you can come over. So I am calling.” 

“You should come fast. I am curious how this one works,” Beomgyu mumbled, hanging up on you before you could say anything else. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you hid your head in your hands. Why did he have to open that box from all the possible ones you had sent to his house?? You whined, having no idea what to expect from him. He always made fun of you. That was somehow his love language, so surely he didn’t mean he was curious for real, right? You’d like to believe that was the case. 

♡⸝⸝

You swallowed the lump in your throat as you knocked on the familiar door, more nervous than when you came to his place for the first time. It didn’t take much longer for your best friend to open the door for you, a grin on his face. 

“Do not look at me like that,” you warned him, feeling hotter the more you looked at him, his dark eyes staring into yours. “I am not looking at you anyhow, sweetheart,” he grinned even more, making you scoff as you walked past him inside. You were too nervous to look at him any longer. 

“Whatever, I am just going to get my stuff and leave,” you mumbled, noticing your box with clothes next to his couch. “Where’s…” You started, sighing. “The other thing?” You turned around to face him, your eyes widening when you saw him holding up your new sex toy. “Fuck, Beomgyu, give it to me,” you tried to take it away from him immediately, but he only raised his hand higher, taking advantage of the fact that he was taller than you. “Wish you said that in a different context,” he leaned down to your ear, sending shivers all over your body. 

“Shut up,” you blurted out, knowing your face was red like a tomato. “Make me,” Beomgyu smirked, not taking his eyes off you. “You’re crazy,” you mumbled, stepping back so you wouldn’t be as close to him anymore. “I am crazy? Isn’t this exactly what you wanted when you sent a sex toy to me?” 

“N-No!” You stuttered, suddenly questioning what was going through your mind when you ordered it. He was right. You were the crazy one here. “I just didn’t want my roommate to open it because it would be embarrassing!” 

“But I opened it instead.” 

“And you’re an ass for that,” you stated, taking a step forward again when you saw his hand slowly falling down at your words. However, when he registered your movement, his hand was in the air again, only causing you to jump at him. “Maybe I am,” he nodded, his empty hand wrapping around your waist and bringing you even closer to himself so your bodies were now touching. “But it’s your fault.” 

“I didn’t do anything,” you protested. “Actually, it’s your fault. You are the reason why I had to order it,” you proclaimed, poking Beomgyu in his chest. “If it wasn’t for your stupid voice and-” you closed your mouth again, swallowing everything you wanted to say next when you saw his eyes. You realized he wasn’t joking when he said he was curious how the toy worked. His eyes had written all over them that he wanted to fuck you. “Fuck, you’re so hot,” he breathed out, and the next thing you knew, his lips were pressed on yours, his grip on your waist tightening to make sure you wouldn’t run away. 

You froze for a second, trying to figure out what was happening, before your hand found its way to the back of his neck, bringing him even closer as you kissed him back. You started moving to the back, keeping his lips on yours. You quickly pulled away, glancing behind yourself to find the couch with your eyes before you kissed him again. “Mhm, bed,” he mumbled against your lips when he noticed you were trying to walk to the sofa. “Please,” he added. 

“You have no idea how long I’ve been wanting to do this for,” Beomgyu whispered, now hovering over you on his bed, his lips unable to leave yours. Your sex toy was placed on his desk right after you went into his room, long forgotten by now. Or you thought it was. “The toy, love, please,” he begged as his lips moved to your neck. “Show me how you use it,” he said, making you moan as he sucked on your sensitive spot. “Need to see you.” 

His hands slowly moved under your shirt, getting to your back so he could unbutton your bra. You quickly caught up on his actions, pulling up your shirt and throwing it somewhere on the floor. Beomgyu took down his shirt right after you, your eyes falling on his torso. “Like what you see?” He chuckled, his eyes landing on your chest as you took down your bra. “I could ask you the same,” you smirked. “God, I absolutely do,” he nodded. 

You hesitated, biting your bottom lip as you looked at him. “You want me to show you the rose?” You finally asked, as if you didn’t already know his answer. You saw his eyes lit up as he got off the bed, rushing to his table to grab the sex toy again. “More than anything,” he answered as he returned to you. 

You sat up, your back against his wall now. “Okay,” you nodded after giving it another thought. “I wanna see you too, though.” 

“See what?” 

“How you masturbate,” you piped quietly, immediately regretting it when you saw the smirk on his face. “Your wish is my command,” he smiled, sitting down on the other side of the bed so he would be facing you. 

“Fuck, Gyu,” you moaned out, your legs now stretched apart as you held the rose vibrator on your clit, your head thrown back from all the pressure. “Mhm, angel, just a little bit more,” Beomgyu groaned, his cock in his hands as he kept his eyes on you and your cunt. “I’ll make you feel even better,” he proclaimed, making you clench around nothing. 

“Gyu, need you right now,” you cried, making him chuckle as he sped up his hand movement, getting closer to finishing. “Almost there,” he groaned. Beomgyu needed to be inside you probably even more than you needed him, but he said he would show you how he masturbates, so he needed to finish what he started first. 

You heard him moan your name and knew that was his end. As if it was a signal for you, you came at the same time Beomgyu did, catching your breath as you threw the toy on the other side of the bed, knowing there was something even better coming your way now.  

“Beomgyu, please,” you begged him, not caring that your legs were already shaking. You just needed him. “I am here, angel,” he assured you, placing his lips on yours again. You whined when he pulled away, his hands grabbing onto your knees as he opened your legs properly. 

Before you could even register his movements, his head was facing your pussy, his fingers sliding between your folds. You gasped when you felt him thrust two fingers into you, his tongue on your clit right away, sucking on it as if his life depended on it. Your lewd sounds filled the room soon after, his head buried in your cunt as he ate you out, making you cum for the second time. 

“Beom- ah,” you moaned again, drunk on the pleasure you were feeling thanks to him. You wanted to pull away from him, unable to continue for much longer, but he held onto your waist, pulling you back to him when you tried to run away, keeping his nose in your wetness as he kept tongue-fucking you. “God, do that sound again,” he groaned into your pussy. “It’s- It’s too much,” you cried. 

“I need your cock inside, Gyu,” you moaned when nothing else seemed to work on him. He refused to pull away from your cunt, no matter how much you already squirted. Finally, he looked up at you, catching his breath. “I don’t think I have any condoms. Let me do this for you instead,” he mumbled, his head between your thighs before you could even say anything. “Fuck,” you groaned. “Go raw.” 

And suddenly, he was up again, his eyes sparkling. “Are you sure?” 

“Yes,” you nodded. “Just please, fuck me already.” 

Beomgyu held onto your ankles, pulling you down so you would be lying down instead of sitting, hovering over you, just admiring your body before his lips found their way to yours again while he gave his cock a few pumps, getting himself ready. “Hold them up, yeah?” He said, pushing your knees to your chest. 

He aligned his tip with your hole, his precum leaking down your cunt onto the bed sheets. “I am going in,” he stated, making sure you were ready as he thrust his hips towards you. You moaned out immediately, not expecting him to push in his whole length. “Beomgyu!” You gasped as he sped up his thrusts, your eyes rolling back. You were right before. Your fingers were definitely little compared to his cock. 

“Fuck, you feel so tight,” he groaned, his hips slapping against your ass. Your mouth was wide open now, your sounds filling the room again. Your pussy clenched around the cock inside you, feeling every vein of his. “Need to fill you up already.” 

“Fuck, Gyu. I am going to cum.” Beomgyu’s grip on your waist became tighter as he kept you in your place. “I am almost there, too,” he said, his moans mixing with yours as he felt your cum on his cock. It took him a few more thrusts as he chased his orgasm before releasing inside you, his cum mixing with yours. 

You whined as he pulled out of you, letting go of your knees. Your legs fell on the bed immediately, shaking as the mixture of your and Beomgyu’s cum leaked out of your hole. “That was…” you breathed out. 

“Amazing,” he finished instead of you, making you nod. 

“Are you staying for the night?” Your best friend asked, lying down next to you, still naked, as he stared at the ceiling. You turned your head towards him, your eyes carefully observing every part of his face. “If you want,” you mumbled, making him turn his head towards you, too. 

For a moment there, when his eyes gazed into yours, a quiet “please” escaping his lips, you caught yourself wanting more than just a friendship from him. You needed him. On a whole different level than what a best friend could give you.

⋆✶ izzy's tags @beomiracles @seoulzie ✶⋆

↪ Izzy speaks… it's 5 minutes before midnight right now, and I only proofread vaguely, but when I already finished it, I wanted to publish it too, so here it is

[thesecondhandwoman]

𝑷𝑼𝑷𝑷𝑬𝑻 𝑺𝑯𝑶𝑾

Jinx x f!reader

Synopsis: It was just another comforting family moment in Jinx’s hideout when your daughter, Isha, decided that she wanted to have a puppet show created by her mamas.

A/N: Had to write a mama jinx fic because her relationship with isha destroyed me.

The hideout was cluttered in the best way possible—scraps of paper, gears, and bits of paint-streaked fabric scattered across the wooden floor. It smelled like gunpowder and paint, the air still tinged with the scent of last night’s late-night project, some kind of half-finished contraption Jinx had abandoned midway in favor of lying across your lap and playing with Isha’s hair until the little girl fell asleep.

Now, the three of you were sitting in your usual spots, Jinx lounging on her stomach, absentmindedly twirling a screwdriver between her fingers, you sitting cross-legged beside her, and Isha perched between the both of you, sketchbook in hand.

Jinx yawned and stretched, poking Isha’s cheek with the screwdriver. “What’s up, kid? You’re staring.”

Isha scrunched her nose, swatting Jinx’s hand away before flipping her sketchbook around. Crayon lines sketched out three figures, two taller ones with unmistakable streaks of blue and your own signature look, and between them, a smaller figure holding their hands. But what stood out the most were the little stick-puppet versions of you and Jinx clutched in your drawn hands.

You tilted your head, taking it in before a grin tugged at your lips. “Looks like she wants a puppet show.”

Jinx’s eyes lit up with an almost childlike glimmer, pushing herself up onto her elbows. “Puppet show, huh? Oh, kid, you are in for a treat.” She shot up, already digging through the various piles of junk around the hideout, snatching up cloth scraps, loose screws, and what might have been an old sock at one point. “We’re gonna make the best damn puppets this side of Zaun has ever seen.”

Isha clapped her hands together, eyes alight with excitement. You chuckled, reaching over to ruffle her hair before helping Jinx gather materials.

It didn’t take long for your makeshift crafting station to turn into chaos. Jinx had glue on her cheek, you had thread tangled around your fingers, and Isha, bless her, was trying her hardest to sew while giggling at Jinx’s constant stream of nonsense.

Jinx, being Jinx, crafted something delightfully chaotic—a tiny, messy version of herself with wild blue yarn for hair and big mismatched button eyes. “Looks just like me, huh?” she joked, holding it up to her face.

You held back a laugh. “It’s a spitting image,” you teased before presenting your own puppet, much softer in dramatics than jinx’s, with neatly stitched features and a lopsided smile. “And look, she even has an actual shirt instead of whatever that is.”

Jinx gasped in faux offense. “Babe. That ‘whatever’ is art.”

Isha was already giggling, hugging her own tiny puppet versions of you both to her chest. She then pointed expectantly at the table, signaling that it was time for the show to begin.

Jinx cleared her throat dramatically, dropping into a stage whisper. “Alright, ladies and, well, ladies. Welcome to the greatest, most entertaining show of your life!” She ducked behind a nearby crate, holding up her mini-puppet self. “Introducing the fearless, the stunning, the ridiculously cool, Jinx!”

You played along, lifting your own puppet and giving it a tiny bow. “And her ever-patient, slightly concerned partner, me.”

Isha clapped as the show began, the two of you making the puppets bounce and interact in exaggerated, silly voices. Jinx’s puppet cackled and flipped over dramatically (assisted by her wiggling fingers), while yours sighed and crossed its little arms.

“Jinx, you can’t just declare yourself the queen of Zaun.”

“Uh, yeah, I can.” Jinx wiggled her puppet in a mockingly regal manner. “I got the crown and everything.”

“You don’t have a crown,” your puppet huffed.

“Oh yeah?” Jinx disappeared for a second before reappearing, having shoved a small tin lid on her puppet’s head. “How about now?”

Isha was in stitches, muffling her giggles with her hands. It was a rare sound, and one that made you and Jinx share a quick, warm glance.

By the end, Isha was clapping enthusiastically, her joy written all over her face. She reached forward and tugged both you and Jinx into a tight hug, her little arms squeezing as if she could keep this moment forever.

Jinx snickered, ruffling Isha’s hair. “Alright, kiddo. You win. Puppet shows are officially a thing now.”

You pressed a kiss to Jinx’s temple before squeezing Isha back. “Best audience we’ve ever had.”

The three of you spent the rest of the evening making more puppets, one for Silco, one for Sevika (though Jinx made hers absurdly buff), and even a tiny Fishbones. At some point, Isha curled up in your lap, drowsy but still smiling, and Jinx draped herself over both of you like a content cat.

“Hey,” Jinx murmured after a while, her fingers absently playing with Isha’s hair. “We’re a pretty good pair of parents, huh?”

You pressed your cheek to her shoulder, letting out a hum of agreement. “Yeah. The best.”

And as the soft glow of lanterns flickered around you, the sounds of the Lanes distant but ever-present, you let yourself believe it, right here, with Jinx and Isha tangled up in warmth and laughter, everything was exactly as it should be.

A/N: MY SHAYLA, OH MY SHAYLA..

[pullupinarari]

an idea!! It’s laundry day, lewis is helping to fold clothes and comes across a pair of lace panties. freezes, blush furiously

"you’ve seen me wear them, no need to be shy.”

*blushes*

after finish folding the clothes and putting them away in the closet, she went to lewis, kiss him slow, and whispers before leaving him alone, flustered and hot in the closet:

"besides, you're the one who always takes them off for me"

a/n: this is just a short and domestic thing that ends up in a hot tone 🤭 I changed the end a little bit, but I love domestic Lewis so much, this was fun to write! Thank you for sending me your idea, cutie 🩷 hope you enjoy!

The rain softly knocks on the windows, letting the splatters of water slide down the glass, filling the air with its tapping. 

Inside, you are wrapped in the warmth erupting from the fireplace, lying on the couch, reading a book while your husband’s arms are entangled in your figure, his eyes trained on the television, paying attention to the movie that’s playing.

There’s a comfortable silence filling the room, enjoying the coziness of his warm hands resting on your skin, your breathings in sync, each one in its own world, while sharing the same atmosphere - allowing your other half to enter your intimate space, physically and mentally. 

The ringing coming from the dryer awakens both of you from your thoughts - the laundry is done, and you think about the huge pile of clothes that is waiting to be folded now. 

With a soft sigh, you get up from your seat, your body noticing the loss of touch when Lewis lets go of your frame. But in the same second that he does, his body also misses the feeling of being connected with yours.

- I’ll help you, love. - your husband says, pausing the movie and getting up to follow right behind you, his arms reaching to wrap themselves around your waist again. 

His warm lips touch your neck, leaving a loving, innocent kiss on your skin and a familiar smile spreads across your lips as you walk through the corridor, reaching for the dryer. 

Lewis starts taking the clothes out of the machine, putting every piece of clothing inside the basket, gesturing you to go back to the living room. 

- It’s cold here, love. We’re not folding this huge pile of clothes here. Come on. - he says, picking up the basket, carrying it to the room where you were cuddling just some minutes ago. 

Sitting on the floor, a chill runs up your spine at the temperature difference you just felt, the fireplace really warming the living room much more. Lewis joins you, his figure sitting next to yours as he puts the basket in front of your bodies.

You get to work. Reaching out, each one of you grabs a piece, folding it neatly. And for some minutes, silence grows between the two of you again. 

Between folding shirts, shorts, jeans, everything feels normal. The house chores that you have grown to share, to help each other with - it might be boring, but it’s familiar, and at least you are doing it together. 

Lewis cracks some jokes in the middle of your task, adding some comments about each piece, giggling while you snort at his antics, rolling your eyes playfully.

But your husband’s sounds keep filling the air, making a warm feeling appear in your stomach - the loving feeling of all the butterflies that fly around your frame, that he sets free, with his warm touch, with the way his giggles echo inside of you. 

And everything feels normal and light, until Lewis grabs a pair of your lace panties, immediately going silent as he holds the fabric in his hands. 

Finding the sudden silence strange, you look to the pair in his hands, only to find him blushing while his body looks like he just froze in place - panties lifted in front of his face, his mouth narrowed in a line, the red shade creeping through his features. 

The sight makes a laugh escape your lips, enticed by the shyness emanating from Lewis’ body now. 

- What’s wrong, babe? - you question, feeling tears forming in the corner of your eyes as your laughs grow, analysing the way the man just looks at you in silence.  - Oh, baby. You see me wearing them all the time, no need to be shy, now. - You wink at him, making Lewis close his eyes, breathing heavily as he puts your panties away, trying to cool down from all the blushing that crept through him. 

You finish folding all your clothes, exiting the room to put them away in the closet. Leaving an awkward Lewis still sitting on the floor, he faces the wall as the cheeky man tries to brush away the hot, bothered thoughts crossing his mind. 

He has seen you in your underwear countless times through all the years that you’ve been together, that’s true. And that’s the thing: no matter how many years may pass, he still feels the same way he felt on your first date. 

That silly cold lingering on his belly, the warmth on his face when he locks eyes with you, when he gets to undress you and explore your body over and over again. He can’t stop feeling flustered when he sees you, your panties triggering a bunch of devilish thoughts in his mind just now.

Meeting his figure again on the floor, your lips kiss his cheek as your silhouette appears behind him. He hums at the feeling of the trail you’re creating in his skin, travelling down to his neck, as he turns his head to the side gently, giving you more access to his sweet spots. 

- Is my baby still feeling shy? - you tease him, whispering in his ear while you hear the groan leaving his throat, as he throws his head back so he can see your face. - Don’t do this - he begs, capturing your lips in his, savouring how sweet you always taste for him. - Please. Stop making me feel so hot - the man jokes in between pecks, but you know there’s a hint of truth in his words.

A provocative smile plays on your lips as the tip of your nose touches his, noticing how he closes his eyes at the feeling of your skin touching his own. It’s everything he needs - to feel you, to have you close to him, your lips caressing his frame, making him forget about every single thing outside of this room, now. 

- Uhm, feeling so flustered because of my panties - you continue your teasing, your voice sounding as soft as silk in his ears, wrapping his brain around a cloud, knowing for a fact that he could melt in this moment. - You know you’re the one who always takes them off of me - you say in a sultry tone, lighting a fire inside of Lewis. 

Your husband turns around, wrapping his arms around your waist, lying you on the carpet. He towers over you, analyzing your sly smirk before kissing you again - deeper than before, feeling hungry for his wife, as much as he did the first time he got to touch you. 

- Yeah? - his thick voice finally audible. - And I can do it again, right here, right now. How does that sound? - Lewis asks, with fire in his eyes as his hands start delving into your curves.

His lips attack your collarbone with warm kisses, like he is a match, working its way to light your own fire now as well, deeply contrasting with the weather, making you forget about all the rain and cold outside, focusing on the unbearable heat, growing between your bodies by the minute. 

[yurinaa-world]

I HAVE RTURNED WIRH ANOTHER LND REQUEST IF YOU DONT MIND >:)))

Okay idk if this is too general but i rlly wanna request something SOOOO what if shy!reader that has a hard time communicating/socialising in general, so to show that she loves them she bakes them pastries and deserts, plays soft love songs on the piano for him and make him little diy gifts! She isnt the richest person but she still wants to give him gifts :D

“𝓔𝓿𝓮𝓷 𝓲𝓷 𝓼𝓲𝓵𝓮𝓷𝓬𝓮, 𝓵𝓸𝓿𝓮 𝓼𝓹𝓮𝓪𝓴𝓼 𝓽𝓱𝓻𝓸𝓾𝓰𝓱 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓵𝓲𝓽𝓽𝓵𝓮 𝓽𝓱𝓲𝓷𝓰𝓼 𝔀𝓮 𝓭𝓸.”

💫𝒞𝒽𝒶𝓇𝒶𝒸𝓉𝑒𝓇𝓈: Rafayel, Zayne, Xavier, & Sylus x Gender-Neutral reader

💫𝒮𝓎𝓃𝑜𝓅𝓈𝒾𝓈: with a reader who's shy, she shows her love through pastries, desserts, and gentle piano songs for him

💫𝒲𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔𝓈: Fluff, & Spelling Mistakes

💫𝑅𝒶𝒻𝒶𝓎𝑒𝓁 "𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝒜𝒷𝓎𝓈𝓈𝓌𝒶𝓁𝓀𝑒𝓇"

He's expecting it, you are not exactly good at hiding your traces even if you are the type to run your mouth—the small bits of parts from the gifts you’re working on for him. He may be a tad bit messy but even he notices things like that. But for your sake, he’ll pretend like he doesn’t know but know that doesn’t change how he’ll react to it. With utter joy and happiness.

Sometimes he sees you lying on a desk or surface with your half-finished project to the side while you’re uncomfortable sleeping. You must have worked hard, obvious from all the messed up/broken ones overflowing the garbage, "Fell asleep at your desk again, huh? Do beds offend you?" he playfully says, but it’s not like you’ll actually hear him. 

A smile on his face that spreads from ear to ear while you tell him to cover his eyes and wait for a second in that pretty shy tone, that leaves his heart pumping while waiting for you. He opened his eyes to see the sight of you, held the gift in your hands, and waited for him to take your gift with a tiny smile on your face. Ugh! How could he get so lucky?

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

“Rafayel, don’t open your eyes for even a second,” 

Watching you scramble around, sitting him down on his messy coach, while forcefully taking his soft hands, and making himself cover his already closed eyes—just to make extra sure that he wasn’t looking.

“Not even for a second?”

“Not for a second.” You reform in a gentle sugar-sweet tone.

He already knows the present since he might have accidentally seen it (You aren’t too good at hiding things).

Hearing your dispating footsteps against his cluttered floor, before quickly coming back with a little box in your hand, like the size of a ring box.

“You can open your eyes now.”

Holding the little box in front of his face before opening it to reveal a little ring made out of paper—yet it had supreme detail to it, he’s impressed by you. 

Taking out the little paper ring from the ring box, without a second thought, he slides the perfect fitted ring on his ring finger, twiddling his ring finger.

“If I didn’t know better, I’d say you’re trying to charm me.” You softly laugh at those words of his, with a smile on your face as you slowly put away the ring box to the side. “Haven’t I already charmed you? A long time ago.” You say a tad bit shyly.

“You have, a very long time ago.”

💫𝒵𝒶𝓎𝓃𝑒 "𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝐹𝑜𝓇𝑒𝓈𝑒𝑒𝓇"

He can already hear the music at your wedding. He feels so grateful to you for tasting the sweet desserts that you went out of your way to buy ingredients, bring everything out in your kitchen, and then bake them to absolute perfection. This is exactly what he needs after a long day of work: finding your little dessert in the fridge with a note on top, telling him to enjoy it.

Or even on the rare days that he’s finally gotten himself a day off, he of course spends it with you! Even if you are the quiet type, why don’t you bake some sweets together, he’ll be at your service, whether him being your assistant to do the fun stuff, doing the repetitive tasks that you don’t need to do, or just both?

Seeing you cover your mouth giggling about the flour that spread on his hair without his knowing. Help him get the flour off, leaning his head down a little so you could see where the flour got stuck.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

"Is there anything you need me to do?"

Zayne’s steady and calm voice pulled you from your thoughts. You turned to face him, only to freeze at the sight before you. There he was, tall and composed, wearing a pastel pink apron with frilly edges that looked so absurdly out of place on him that you had to cover your mouth with both hands to hold back a laugh.

His sharp eyes immediately caught your reaction, and he tilted his head slightly, one eyebrow raised as he crossed his arms. "What?" he asked, his voice dripping with mock innocence. "Is there something wrong with my... outfit?" 

You quickly shook your head, your face flushing as you avoided his gaze. "N-no," you stammered, the words barely escaping your lips. "It’s just... I didn’t expect..." Your voice trailed off, hands gripping the edge of the counter as you tried to steady your racing thoughts.

"Unexpected, huh?" Zayne’s smirk widened as he took a slow step closer. His voice softened, teasing yet warm. "I thought it was practical. Functional. It keeps the flour off, doesn’t it?"

You nodded quickly, stealing a glance at him for a brief moment before looking back down at the counter. "Y-yeah... it does," you murmured, the corners of your lips twitching into a shy smile.

"But you’re still laughing," he pointed out, his tone laced with amusement. "Was it the frills? Or the fact that I chose this one out of all the options?"

“It’s a sight for sore eyes. But you if you still want to help me, could please mix the ice up for me,”

💫𝒳𝒶𝓋𝒾𝑒𝓇 "𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝐻𝓊𝓃𝓉𝑒𝓇 𝒪𝒻 𝐿𝒾𝑔𝒽𝓉"

He enjoys it very much, to the point he’ll even go out of his way to return your pretty gifts and make his own (maybe with the help of Jeremiah by his side, slightly guiding him on what to do). Maybe even double it. 

Come to both of your shocks…well you made the same thing, a really cute little flower bouquet (even though in your eyes, yours looked very basic, you still wanted to give him something on short notice).

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

“Ah…”You look down at the bouquet in your hands—a beautiful collection of paper roses, meticulously folded and shaped—even though you wanted to rip your hair out over the several thousand tries you did to make every rose perfect.

“Oh….we made the same thing.”

“I… I didn’t think you’d…” you begin, your voice is soft and hesitant, trailing off as you look down at the bouquet in your hands. Xavier offers a small smile, his eyes sparkling as he steps closer, examining the roses in his grasp. “I suppose great minds think alike,” he replies lightly, though there’s a hint of warmth in his tone. 

“I wanted to make something special for you, even though it’s just paper.”

Xavier’s smile softens, and for a moment, he remains silent, simply gazing at you. In that quiet, there’s a depth that words can’t capture.

 He shifts his gaze back to the roses, now with a thoughtful expression, as if appreciating the care you’ve taken with each petal. “Whether it’s special or not,” he says softly, “it’s beautiful.” His tone is calm, yet there’s a gentleness that makes you feel like you might just dissolve into the floor. “What really counts is the effort you put in.” You blink, taken aback by his sincerity. “You… really believe that?” you ask, your voice barely a whisper.

His other hand holding his roses, which he of course exchanges with you—so now you carry something of his. “I’m glad you like it,” you mumble, your voice soft, almost shy, while staring at his petals. 

Xavier’s smile grows just a little wider. “Like it? I think I might just keep it.” You blink at him, completely caught off guard. “Keep it?” He nods, his gaze soft but serious now, holding your bouquet with careful hands. 

“Of course. I’d like to keep it. You made it for me.”

💫𝒮𝓎𝓁𝓊𝓈 "𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝐻𝑒𝒶𝒹 𝒪𝒻 𝒪𝓃𝓎𝒸𝒽𝒾𝓃𝓊𝓈"

The days you start to learn a new song, hearing you play through piano keys several times while trying to get through a single verse of the song. Yet, he listens to every part of it, even the mistakes. Leaning outside of the door, against the wall, with a small smile on his lips.

He loves listening to play, and he even buys you various music books, you can search it up, but it’s fun going old fashion right? Or maybe tune your piano up. Anything you may wish he’ll provide, just to hear those beautiful fingers play.

But when the time comes you play for him without him having to hide behind the other side of the door, he can’t help but be in utter joy. Wait, Oh, you want him to sit with you, and do a duet, are you sure? his singing voice isn’t that amazing, he doubts that his piano skills will be any better. 

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

Your hands fluidly dripped over the black and white fragile keys of the grand piano you were playing on, the melody pouring out of the keys you played, weaving together a beautiful song that you had practicing for days, and Sylus wanted to hear even though you hadn’t completely perfected the entire song.

Your eyes flutter open as you play the last of a note, the music immediately dissipating in the echoing room. “Come and sit with me.” You softly mutter, and he immediately accepts your invitation, shifting to the side—just enough room that he could sit beside you. 

Sylus eased himself onto the bench without a word, the soft hum of his coat brushing against the polished wood. His closeness was immediate, almost magnetic, and you couldn’t help but notice the way his presence filled the space beside you as the air itself bent around him. 

His eyes swept over the piano keys, then landed on you, holding a quiet intensity that made your pulse quicken.

“You’ve been hiding this from me,” he said, his voice barely above a murmur, a thread of teasing weaving through his tone.

Your gaze dropped to your hands, resting on the keys, the faint echo of your unfinished melody still lingering in the back of your mind. “It’s not ready,” you replied, your voice soft, hesitant. “I’m still working on it,”

“And you wanted to hear so badly, so I gave you the chance….”

Sylus tilted his head, watching you with an unreadable expression—well, a smirk on his lips but his eyes were mysterious to you. “Good. Imperfection makes it honest.”

An idea strikes you, taking his long, nimble fingers to the same keys you were playing before. “Why don’t you try it?” Puppeteering his fingers on the notes, letting out a small song with the few notes his one hand could play.

He tilted his head toward you, the teasing in his voice almost palpable. “Puppeteering me now? You must be desperate to hear me butcher your song.”

“It’s not butchering,” you said, your voice light but with an edge of earnestness. “It’s learning.”

His gaze flickered to yours, something softer settling in his expression. “Learning, huh?” he murmured, the teasing dropping to a quieter, more thoughtful tone. “I’ll be a good student, then.”

if you liked this, consider tipping me on ko-fi! it'd mean a lot!

[yanderecrazysie]

Twisted Zoo (Prologue)

Summary: You’re a brand new zookeeper at The Halfling Zoo- a place where half-animals live in captivity. Your job is simple- feed them and study them. Your main worry is that one of the more dangerous halflings might kill you. 

Unfortunately, that may become the least of your worries.

WARNINGS: none for now

Note: This is based on the stories of a keeper reader with the octotrio by @ashensgrotto and @merakiui except I decided to take it a step further and include all the dorms. I know that a lot of these animals don’t fit them perfectly, but I did the best I could. I left out Ortho because he has no age and he looks really young so… no.

All characters are aged up, since there will be mature themes in future parts.

Also, I can’t promise I’ll finish this. I suck at finishing stories.

Chapter One here

—----------------------

“Pleased to meet you Mr. Crowley.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you as well, Ms. (Y/n)!”

You smiled up at your new boss, taking in his eccentric appearance- everything from his crow feather-lined cape, to his sparkling suit, to his top hat, and to the black bird mask that covered half his face. 

That name suits him.

“Now, you’re mainly a researcher, but you will also be assisting with some of the general chores, such as feeding the animals,” Mr. Crowley explained what you already knew.

“That’s alright,” you said, smiling brightly, “That will allow me to observe even more of their behaviors.”

You were fresh out of college and ready to face The Halfling Zoo. There was plenty of debate whether it was okay to treat half-humans as animals and keep them in a zoo, but it was convenient for you. You didn’t have to travel the world to attempt to study animals from afar through a camera lens.

“You will be supervising the lion and hyena exhibit, the wolf exhibit, the panther and tiger exhibit, the bird exhibits, the reptile house, and the aquarium,” Mr. Crowley explained.

“Wait, did you mean to say the lions and hyenas are together? And the panthers and tigers? Or did I misunderstand?” you asked, confused.

“They are bonded groups, so it would be wrong to separate them,” Crowley explained, “Halflings don’t always act like their animal counterparts.”

You nodded, cursing yourself internally. You had learned that on your first day at college! How could I be so stupid to forget about the bonds different Halfling species make?

“Follow me,” Mr. Crowley’s voice broke through your thoughts, “I’ll show you around.”

The two of you left the cramped office in the main staff building and headed out onto the guests’ paths. You could see a few families walking by- less than usual, since it was nearing closing time. It felt as though the sky was growing darker by the minute as the sun made its way down the horizon, beautiful orange and pink clouds lighting its path.

You almost immediately arrived at the lion and hyena exhibit. It was a huge enclosure, the terrain so detailed that you felt as though you had stepped straight into an African savannah. In fact, you could even feel the heat emanating from the ground itself.

“We keep it as hot as their home naturally is,” Mr. Crowley explained, reading your thoughts, “They’re happy here- it’s home with no need to hunt to survive.”

You nodded, but inside you wondered if that was really true or not. Were they really happier in a giant cage on display for humans than they were in Africa? You couldn’t imagine feeling that way.

Mr. Crowley pointed out a big rock where a pride of lions had gathered, “On top of that rock is the top dog- er, cat, I mean. The king of the jungle.”

Upon closer inspection, and a lot more eye strain, you could make out a figure lying on the top of the large rock. It was a Lion Halfling, with tan skin and thick, dark mane of brown hair that fell to his shoulders, except for the braids in front of his face, which were even longer. You could just make out the lion’s ears on top of his head and the lion’s tail draped over the rock’s side.

“And those are the hyenas,” Mr. Crowley supplied, pointing to the edge of the enclosure, “They’re used to aggressive females, so the males might be a little jumpy around you.”

You remembered reading about that in school, but it was amazing to see all the Halflings in person. You couldn’t help but feel excited to study them up close. Imagine if you made a big discovery that no one else had ever discovered about Halflings! After all, there were a lot of unknowns about them.

“Onto the wolf exhibit!” Mr. Crowley said in a sing-song voice.

The enclosure was right across the way from the lions and hyenas, but it had a completely different feel. The air was cooler when you walked up to the giant forest. Through the trees, it was difficult to actually see any wolf halflings. You thought you saw a flash of white, but it was too quick to tell.

“Yes, well, this exhibit is pretty quiet during the day,” the zoo director said awkwardly, “They’ll be out tonight, howling at the moon and whatnot.”

“Wolves don’t actually howl at the moon,” you helpfully supplied, “They howl to communicate with other wolves.”

Mr. Crowley stared at you for a moment and you wondered if you had annoyed him, until he grinned widely, “Such a knowledgeable new researcher!”

You smiled at the compliment, a little embarrassed as the two of you headed for the panther and tiger exhibit. You were surprised to see it alive with Halflings, all of them staring back at the two of you with narrowed eyes.

“There’s two black panthers,” Mr. Crowley pointed them out, “and two albino tigers. The four of them are as thick as thieves.”

You cautiously waved at them, but they merely turned away and disappeared into the jungle enclosure. You wondered if they were somehow curious to see you, or if they always did this to guests.

“Next, the bird exhibits!” Mr. Crowley led the way to the aviary. He pointed out Halflings left and right in the closely-packed enclosures, “A parrot, three albino peacocks, two flamingos, an owl, and a raven. You’ll get to know them well, since they’re mostly all very friendly. Except the peacocks are a little cocky.”

You giggled a little and waved to all the birds. It was a futile effort, because, save for the owl halfling, they were all fast asleep. The owl halfling stayed on his perch, wings tucked around his body, his bespectacled face scrutinizing you. Not in a rude way, just sort of deciding what you were.

You followed Mr. Crowley into a heated building with a glass wall on one side. You peered through the glass wall and immediately spotted the Boa Constrictor Halfling lying against the wall. Human until the torso, which then winded into a snake tail.

“Don’t be fooled!” Mr. Crowley said, “There is more than one snake in that exhibit. See if you can spot it.”

You looked at every angle, struggling to spot anything different. Then, a part of the sand moved and two gray eyes glared back at you.

“A Viper Halfling, right?” you said in awe, “Aren’t those venomous?”

“Ah, yes, well,” Mr. Crowley stuttered a little, “Don’t get bitten.”

You stared at him for a moment before it sunk in. All of these animals, except the birds, were extremely dangerous! And you were going to go into their enclosures to study and feed them? Were you insane?

You pushed down the panic and took a deep breath. This is what you signed up for. You probably already waived all your rights away anyway. You hadn’t looked at the fine print of your contracts, of course.

You noticed another tank on the other side of the room and walked up to it. You couldn’t see anything inside this one, but Mr. Crowley was quick to explain, “There’s a salamander in this one. A beautiful electric blue, but extremely shy.”

You peered inside, trying to catch a glance of blue, but you couldn’t see a thing.

“Lastly, the aquarium,” Mr. Crowley clapped his hands together, as though to bring you back to reality. 

The aquarium was a huge glass tank where visitors could go down the stairs and see inside. The two of you walked by it, and saw very little signs of life. 

“You’ll probably see the eel twins a bit. They’re a little shy at first, but Floyd is pretty playful. The octopus, on the other hand, rarely leaves his cave. He’ll venture out to eat, but that’s about it. We should have made that damn thing see-through, but it’s too late now.”

You were glad it was a normal cave, and not transparent like the glass. The Octopus Halfling probably felt safe inside it. It wouldn’t be fair to rob him of that simple pleasure.

“That’s the end of your tour, young lady,” Mr. Crowley said cheerfully, “You start bright and early tomorrow, have a long lunch break, then leave late at night. Are you sure you’re ready to do this?”

He looked down at you with a hint of nervousness, as though he expected you to say “no”. But you were determined and excited to explore what your classes had trained you for. Real life application.

“I’m ready!”

Note: So, some of the animals are obvious, but I’m wondering what you all think the others are?

[just-a-jock]

Happy late Halloween. I hope you guys enjoy this Halloween special. Aaron miller is my favorite fitness influencer and always want to use him in story’s but always want to save him for something good. I ended up saying fuck it and writing the below. Let me know if you like it!

ROOMMATE CLONESTUME (Halloween Special)

You would think having a fitness influencer as a college roommate would be like winning the lottery. Being able to see pieces of eye candy almost every day, almost practically shirtless all the time, but it’s not all sunshine and rainbows. You see Aaron Miller was your typical douchebag straight jock bro behind the camera. Always calling me fag but always saying he’s just joking and I need to toughen up. Of course, you would never catch him like that on camera, always playing like the fun-loving jock goofball. Thankfully he’s leaving tonight to go to some stupid Halloween party at the frat house.

“Yo fag! How do I look” I hear his voice call from the living room

“Fucking hot right! All the chicks are gonna be all over me begging from some of this Miller cock” he said while smirking and flexing in front of the full-length mirror in the living room

“Yeah I’m sure they will Aaron” I reply while rolling my eyes and begging he would leave soon.

“You know some other frat across campus invited me to their Halloween but I already promised my bro I’m going to Alpha Omegas party. Feel free to accept my invite”

"I think I'm good, I got to finish my term paper but I guess thanks" I replied thinking it weird why he would think I would somehow fit in at a frat party

“Well, bro the invite is in my room and feel free to use last year's costume.. might be a bit big haha. Anyway gotta go before the good Pus gets taken” Aaron said taking one last pic for his IG story and heading out

“Thank god, I can finally work on my paper,” I said heading to my room. I walk by Aaron’s room and notice his door ever so slightly open. I ended up looking in and seeing a paper which I assumed was the invite lying on his messy bed next to what seemed to be the black Spiderman suit he wore last year for Halloween.

“Wow, did he really think I was gonna put that on” I say as I continue to walk further into the room the scent of stale gym clothes and musky axe cologne lingered in the air.

As I get closer to the bed I keep looking back and forth from the costume and the letter. I don’t know why but I ended up grabbing the costume something about it was calling me. The silky satin feeling of the spandex with the scent of stain sweat and beer, most likely from last year's party. “Maybe I should try it on” I whisper under my breath.

I start to undress myself in Aaron’s room until I’m standing in just my briefs. I look around feeling kinda risqué in his room half naked, but something felt right about putting this one. I slowly start to unzip the costume looking into the dark interior. As I started to put on the costume I could immediately tell it was quite a few sizes too big and especially since Aaron had worn it previously certain areas were stretched out more than usual. I slowly start to pull the costume up my body as I get halfway to putting it on something feels wrong

“No no why am I doing this I need to work on my paper” I say snapping out of the hazy confusion but as soon as I try to take off the suit I knew something was wrong

“What the fuck” The rest of the suit starts to climb up my slim body and sticking to any skin it touches. I tried to remove it, but the suit just snapped back almost like a second skin. “STOP” I scream as it continues to travel upwards my body covering all the way up until it reaches my neck. I soon hear the noise of a zipper closing and a cold feeling riding up my back. I immediately reached backwards trying to catch the self-moving zipper before it closed all the way, but I was too late as soon as I grabbed the zipper head I felt it disappear from my hand as the suit started to close up leaving no seam behind.

“What the fuck is this, how does this happen” I continue trying to take off the suit but it just gets tighter and tighter until a moment where I lose control. “What..” my body starts to move slowly by itself it feels like I lost control of anything the suit has encompassed. I start to move towards Aaron’s nightstand, grab the remote to his TV and turn it on. I was immediately blasted with the audio and imagined Aaron almost like he was starting off one of his annoying Instagram videos.

“What is going on PEEEOPLES! Or should I say fag” he said chuckling to himself at the uncreative nickname he has bestowed upon me.

“WHAT THE FUCK AARON WHAT IS THIS” I scream at the tv as my body stands still disobeying my mind.

“ you’re probably going “what the fuck Aaron?” or some shit like that but no bother bro, this is all recorded. No one to help you now haha. You see I was tired of having some fuck ass roommate that I couldn’t share anything with so I looked online and found this powder with some special powers. I sprinkled it on my old costume and all I had to do was wait for the next person to wear it. I knew you would be tempted. I mean who couldn’t” he says as he flexes his bicep.

“So anyways, I got invited to this banger party and said yes but some other frat also invited me to theirs and like fuck I couldn’t be in two places at once. So I thought and figure maybe you’ll like to go but couldn’t have some loser gay fag representing me so I decided you needed a small makeover. That special powder is gonna make you into me and you won’t even remember ever being your faggy little self. So hope you enjoy the party bro and remember the party is not complete till a girl gets bred.” And with that the TV shut off but before I could react something went over my head shutting my eyes

“Fuck fuck get this off of me” I say noticing that it was a mask probably to complete the stupid Spider-Man costume.

Soon the changes started to happen I felt the suit tighten but at the same time expand. It first started with my feet growing to a large size 14. The changes travelled upwards as my calfs and thighs started to expand giving me tree trunks for legs. I knew I wouldn’t be able to fit in any of my pants anymore. Soon I felt a pain in my stomach like I was kicked by a boxer

“UGH FUCK” I say as I fall on my knees. While I couldn’t see anything under the suit I knew abs started to form one by one leaving an impressive six-pack behind. As I looked down I started to see my chest push out. Creating a shelf right under my head. Two massive pecs now jutted out of my body and now I had to make an effort if I wanted to see any part of my body below my pecs.

The change travelled outwards as the suit forced me to do a double bicep pose typical of what I see Aaron do when he’s back from the gym. Soon my biceps and triceps started to expand like crazy. My muscles became sore as they grew to match his arms exactly.

Lastly, the feeling travelled up to my face and I felt the muscles crack inside my skull and the fat draining from my cheeks. I was screaming in agony until the pain suddenly left.

My body Finally fell down to the ground like a puppet dropped by its owner. I slowly get up and start to remove the mask and notice the zipper has reappeared. I zip the costume just until it hits my waist. My body was sweating from the changes and I needed to know what happened.

I knew Aaron had a mirror in his closet and ran to the door to open it. Nothing could have prepared me for what I was seeing…

An exact copy of him was standing right in the mirror.

“No no, this can’t be… I can’t be him” I say panicking not recognizing my own body in front of me. I tried to figure out what I could do to change back and started to run to my room, but as soon as I reached the door to exit, I came to a sudden halt.

I looked down which was difficult trying to see over these massive pecs and realised I still had the costume on. My eyes widened as my legs started to walk me back to his desk and force me to sit down. I tried to fight back but to no use. I was losing control… soon my arm started to move toward the computer and turning it on

“No wait, stop please” I scream at my unresponsive body but it continued to move on its own.

As the computer turns on a pre-loaded video comes along with it...

YOU ARE AARON MILLER

“NO NO STOP” I scream realizing it was hypnosis

Clips of Aaron flexing and pictures of his body invade the screen between phrases.

YOU HAVE ALWAYS BEEN AARON

FLEX

JOCK

MUSCLE

My eyes started to become glued to the screen against my will. I tried to resist but I couldn’t. Soon I noticed my arms moving again. They move downwards and started to push the costume lower until *pop* my cock bounces out.

“No… please let me go,” I say as the arm reaches for my dick and starts to jack it off slowly at first.

JOCK

BRO

Soon the images changed. More of Aaron joking around with his friends, drinking, partying and working out. Videos of him fucking and breeding girls always started to appear. I knew some of them from school

BRO

DUDE

BREED

Soon the jacking off started to pick up speed as more and more of the hypnosis and reprogramming started to settle in. My brain was trying to fight a losing battle. I was able to gain a small amount of control to see my cock as I noticed it starting to expand. Slowly it lengthened from its original 5 inches hard …. 6…7….8 until I reached a mighty 9 inches. My hand started to lose grip as the girth also started to grow almost not allowing me to fully encompass the cock with one hand. Next, I felt my balls change they started to lower until they fell into a pouch inside the costume that no doubt used to be where the original Aaron had his. They grew larger as my moans started to overshadow the video. I felt a kick in the balls as I knew my old cum was being eaten by the new alpha cum Aaron produces

“Pls… uhhh… stop this” I say with the last residuals of will I had as my arm continued jacking my new cock until it reached near orgasm

“No….”

BREED

“Pls…”

JOCK

“I don’t”

YOU ARE

“Want thi….”

AARON MILLER

“FUUUUUUUCK”

I cum all over my body and my room as I snap out of the horny daze

“Fuck that was good. Now gotta get to that fucking party before someone takes all the good puss”

I get up from the desk and shuffle over to my closet to grab a used cum towel and wipe myself off.

I grab the costume from my waist and pull it all the way up zipping the costume as well. I smirk in the mirror knowing all the chicks are gonna want some of this Miller cock.

The original Aaron’s plan worked perfectly. He now had a complete copy of himself running around breeding and partying. He finally had someone he could share everything with, himself! Of course, people asked questions but he just said it was his twin brother.

[pedropascallme]

☆Kinktober 2024☆

Day 11: Blindfold

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!Reader

Warnings: SMUT (18+ MINORS DNI!!!!) oral (m receiving), p in v sex, kind of a power struggle but Joel is pretty happy to let you take control for once, some dirty talk, use of a blindfold, creampie, if I missed anything please let me know!

“Hss—not so tight, sweetheart,” Joel reached behind his head, swatting at your hands as you tightened the blindfold around his eyes. “Try’na kill me?”

“It’s around your eyes, Joel, not your neck…” You pushed his hands away, tying a messy bow. “And don’t give me ideas.”

He laughed, letting his head fall back against your chest once you’d removed your hands.

“One thing at a time.” He leaned into you, and the mattress creaked beneath him as he shifted his weight.

You moved to kneel at his side on the bed, cupping his cheek in your palm to make him face you.

The black fabric—a piece of some spare article of clothing that wouldn’t be missed—covered his eyes, spanning down to the middle of his nose.

He looked good.

Obscured, slightly, but good.

You’d broached the subject nights ago, lying on his chest in the large bed.

The comfort of the house and the surrounding Jackson area offered a new brand of safety that was unfamiliar to you, and it unshackled you from the burden of responsibility.

You could close your eyes. You could speak at a normal volume.

You could be reckless.

“What if…” You stared up at him, a glint of mischief in your eyes as you spoke.

He had craned his neck to look down at you, raising a brow, coaxing you to finish your sentence.

“Maybe I should blindfold you. Next time we fuck.” You said, and it came with a sense of finality, just happy to have spoken the words into existence.

“Absolutely not.” Joel scoffed, shaking his head.

“Why not?” You smiled, pushing yourself up, planting your hands on his chest.

“Cause half the fun of fuckin’ you is seein’ you.” Joel’s fingers ghosted over your arm.

“But isn’t the most fun part feeling me?” You purred, pressing yourself into him and nosing at his neck.

“You gonna make me choose my favorite part?” He chuckled lowly, “We’re gonna be here all night.”

“Just think about it, Joel—if you can’t see me, you can really focus on how I feel…” You kissed his jaw, pushing yourself back down the bed ever so slightly to curl yourself into his side.

He had mumbled something about you being a fuckin’ minx, and how he thought you might kill him, and then the conversation was over.

A week later, you’d come home to a strip of fabric on the bed, a small note that read “You’re on.”

Now here you were: looking at the man you were meant for, smirking at the knowledge that he couldn’t look back at you.

It was arousing. You greeted your newfound source of power with a sigh, leaning into him, brushing your lips to his.

“Lie down, Joel.” You pressed a hand to his chest, pushing him back onto the bed until he was flat on the mattress.

“Knot’s pressin’ into my fuckin’ skull…” He grumbled, but there was a hint of a smile on his lips; a ghost of amusement at the way you had so quickly fallen into your new role.

“You’ll forget about it,” you straddled his legs, beginning to undo his belt. “Promise.”

You made quick work of unzipping his jeans, tugging the denim down a bit to allow yourself the space to pull his cock from his boxers.

He hissed at your touch, the softness of your palms as you wrapped your fingers around him.

His lack of awareness, his inability to calculate what you were doing and what you might do next, heightened the suspense.

Joel was left in anticipation, relying on his less than fantastic hearing, and wondering what you would do with him.

It made him painfully hard.

You could tell. His cock throbbed in your hand; the soft skin that stretched over his rock-hard length became an angrier red the closer you got to the tip, and arousal dripped from him.

You leaned forward, taking him in your mouth. You swished your tongue over his cockhead. Rather than focusing on just the tip, you pushed down immediately, taking as much of him as you could, wrapping your mouth around him and hollowing your cheeks.

Joel let out a strangled moan, hand flying to the back of your head.

“Christ—shit, there you go…” He tugged at your hair absentmindedly, head thrown back, cursing through his teeth. “Pretty fuckin’ mouth.”  

You mewled, letting the vibrations travel through his core, and he rocked his hips shallowly, beckoning you. Begging you.

You kept your hands busy. One stroked the base of his cock, dragging over him rhythmically, in time with your mouth; the other traveled lower, cupping his balls, massaging him with little pattern, simply a method to further his pleasure in even the slightest of ways.

It worked. Joel groaned wantonly, pushing against your hands with his body, so unbelievably engrossed by the feeling of you.

You had been right—every sense was heightened, and it was driving him wild.

And he could take the blindfold off. He could hook a finger beneath it and yank it up his face, could allow himself the joy of seeing you between his thighs. He could take back his power.

But he didn’t really want to.

“Come—come sit on my cock,” despite the overwhelming experience, his voice remained level—stoic, even, as he tested just how much control you thought you had. “Come on, sweetheart.” But he faltered, letting slip his sense of urgency as he tried to goad you into fucking him properly.

“But I thought you loved having my mouth…” You were playing coy, smirking up at him despite the fact that he couldn’t see you.

He tugged on your hair, adding more pressure to your scalp. “I said come here.” It was a weak demand, but you smiled at the way he was so desperate to keep control, even after pushing himself into your mouth while he whined.

So you conceded, allowing yourself a few more moments of feeling the weight of him in your mouth before pulling yourself off and moving up his body.

But you didn’t give in completely. You dragged yourself over his spit-coated length, grinding down onto his cock where it lay over his stomach and watching it slide between your folds, occasionally nudging your clit.

Joel whimpered, a needy sound that came up from his throat, and his hands reached out for your hips. You swatted him away.

“You said—you said no lookin’, not no touchin’,” he gritted out, locked in a battle with you as you continued to evade his grasp.

“I’m changing the rule.” You shot back.

He acquiesced, allowing you to press his arms against the bed. He could easily overpower you—you both knew it for a fact—but he was giving in because he liked it.

He really liked it.

You removed your hands from his arms, reaching beneath yourself to grab the base of his cock.

He sighed at the feeling, a warm sentiment that was cut short when you, without warning, sank down onto him in one go; sheathing his cock inside your eagerly waiting cunt until his balls pressed against the swell of your ass.

You whined, feeling the stretch of him, the way your cunt turned malleable to mold you into a cocksleeve for him even when you held the power.

“Fuck!” Joel disregarded your prior note, hands flying to grip your waist. “God, this pussy…”

“Do you feel good, Joel?” You began to roll your hips, disallowing him the chance to collect himself. “Don’t you like it? Being able to feel me like this? So completely?”

He didn’t respond—couldn’t respond, not with the way your cunt swallowed him; the gummy pressure of your walls around him; the way he could actively feel every drip of your slick that trailed down his cock.

He sat up, burying his face in your chest, mouthing at your tits and groaning into your skin as he bucked his hips up into you.

You yourself struggled to keep your composure. His writhing beneath you, his pleading movements, it engulfed your body and lit small fires across your skin that seeped down into your core, lighting the powder keg that was your pleasure, and waiting for it to explode.

Your cunt squeezed him, and your movements became less calculated. The once thought-out swipe of your hips over him was reduced to desperate grinding.

And he felt it. He felt all of it; the tightening of your walls, the desperation in the way you rode him, the blunt edges of your nails as they dug crescents into the skin of his chest.

And he felt a surge of the familiar dominance come back to him.

“Good girl,” he panted, “I feel it, baby—right on my cock like that. Good girl.”

That’s what did it, his gentle coaxing, the way his unbridled want oozed from his words, and the way he thrusted into you.

You came with a whimper, your stammered movements over his cock serving to deepen the feeling that heated you from within.

Joel wasn’t far behind.

“Shit—Jesus, sweetheart, fuck me like that. That’s it…” He was grinding himself into you, eager to feel every pulse of you around him.

The suspense he felt, unable to see you, but feeling and hearing you ride out your high above him—because of him—heightened his own release, and he pushed you down against him, pressing himself as deep into you as he could.

He came with a low moan, shooting thick, warm ropes into your cunt.

You collapsed on top of him, sweaty and spent and satisfied.

His hands stayed on your hips, rubbing his thumbs over your skin before sweeping his palm over your back.

You grabbed at the fabric over his eyes, gently yanking it up to gift him his vision back.

“Untie it f’me,” he muttered, hand squeezing your waist. “Wanna see how it looks on you’.”

[starglitterz]

♡ NIGHT DANCER.

❝ nothing changed, please don't change… let's blend together, one more time. ❞ / after spending the night with you, how do the genshin men treat you in the morning after?

✧ feat ; albedo, cyno, kaedehara kazuha, scaramouche, shikanoin heizou, xiao x gn!reader ✧ warning(s) ; suggestive (esp scara and heizou) ✧ a/n ; HIII everybody make some noise for quill’s shocking once a year post!!! hope you guys like this and if it doesn’t show up in tags i will delete my account (/nsrs) anyways idk why i’ve been so obsessed w the idea of waking up next to someone (can you tell i’m critically lonely? 💀) and so this piece was born. pretend u don't notice how scara & xiao’s might seem kinda similar it’s bc i view them thru the same lens LOL ok hope you enjoy! (also ignore the scara favouritism im kinda obsessed w this idea for him KJASKJD)

please reblog + leave comments ! it helps a lot w motivation <3

✦ ALBEDO. [ kreideprinz ]

you’re awoken by the feeling of a cold breeze caressing your skin, and as you grasp for his familiar figure, you realise albedo’s not beside you anymore. but before you can freak out, his soft voice calls to you from behind you, “good morning, dove. don’t move, i’m almost finished.” “finished with what?” you query, deciding to obey him and stay still. he doesn’t answer at first, but you can hear a faint scratching sound which almost sounds like charcoal against parchment. “and… done.” you shift in the bed, turning around to face him. albedo looks almost ethereal in the early morning light, especially when he smiles at you like you hung the stars in the sky. “i do hope you don’t find this peculiar, but i wanted to draw you while you were asleep. you looked so peaceful, and i wanted to immortalise this moment.” he hands you the paper, strands of wheat-coloured hair spilling over his shoulders, let loose from his usual half ponytail. you’re the only one who gets to see him like this, messy and imperfect instead of the flawless scientist he portrays to the rest of mondstadt. you gaze at the drawing, absorbing every detail as you try not to faint from what a sweet gesture this is, “albedo, this is amazing! you made me look so pretty.” he tilts his head quizzically, raising an eyebrow, “what do you mean? i just drew you exactly how i see you – you’re always beautiful to me.”

✦ CYNO. [ judicator of secrets ]

cyno's skin looks almost golden in the sunlight filtering through the translucent curtains. you're lying on your side, gazing at him and just admiring his features when his red eyes flutter open and he murmurs, “i might have to charge you for looking so much.” his voice is rougher than normal, deepened by sleep and it makes heat rush to your cheeks. “morning, babe-ah!” you can barely get out your greeting before he's pulling you back into his embrace, strong arms wrapping around you as he nuzzles into your neck. “cyno!” you laugh, turning around to face him, “stop it, i'm hungry! i wanna go get breakfast-” “hi hungry, i'm cyno,” your boyfriend looks at you with the most deadpan expression, and you're momentarily stunned. then you groan and throw a pillow at his head, “you're so lame!” “i'm not so lame, i just told you i'm cyno- okay, okay, i'll stop!” you collapse into a fit of giggles right as you're about to pummel his chest, “lamest ever.” “mmm,” cyno mumbles, eyes already fluttering shut again as he feels your plush warmth against him, “i'll make you breakfast, i swear, but can we just stay like this for a little longer?”

✦ KAEDEHARA KAZUHA. [ scarlet leaves pursue wild waves ]

the first thing you see when you wake up are kazuha's crimson irises laser-focused on you. the way his eyes scan your features, it’s almost like he’s tracing every detail to commit to memory, as if every morning that he wakes up next to you could be his last. “kazu? what's-” you're interrupted by a yawn, and your boyfriend's gaze softens as he looks at you. as you brush his red-streaked hair out of his face, he leans into your touch, almost cat-like in the motion, “what is it, 'zuha?” “i was just thinking... you make me glad to be a poet,” a gentle smile graces his features. “what? why?” despite the fact that kazuha is always letting praise fall from his lips like jewels, you didn't even remotely expect his answer. “because it means i'm lucky enough to be able to properly convey how you make me feel, and how gorgeous you are,” kazuha presses a sweet kiss on your forehead, then his brow furrows slightly, “but i don't think there's enough words in the world for me to speak about what you mean to me.”

✦ SCARAMOUCHE. [ kunikuzushi ]

when scaramouche wakes up, his first thought is; why does my entire body hurt? eyes still half-lidded and drowsy, he looks down and he's met with the sight of your back pressed against his torso, his arm thrown carelessly over your waist. he scrambles backwards, eyes widening with shock, and his sudden frantic movement wakes you up too. “what are you doing in my bed?!” “what the hell, scara?” you mumble, rubbing away the sleep from your eyes, “it’s too early for you to be this loud.” scaramouche’s heart is beating a million times a minute, and it’s only exacerbated by how cute you look when you’re this sleepy, not that he’d admit it to you for the world. but as you yawn and sit up, he thinks that he’s going to go into cardiac arrest. “you didn’t answer my question!” you give him a weird look, “we slept together. again. duh.” the blanket wrapped around your figure slides off a little as you reply, revealing your bare shoulder and giving him the faintest glimpse of your chest, and scaramouche’s face turns so red you genuinely think he might explode. “c-cover yourself up!” he scolds, clambering closer to drape the fabric over you again as his mind works through the haze of sleep, letting the memories of last night flood back.

realising how flustered he is, you take this as the perfect opportunity to tease him, “it’s nothing you haven’t seen before.” “shut up.” he replies curtly, but he hesitates as his fingers skim over the bite mark on your collarbone. his eyes darken slightly as he recalls last night, the messy kisses that were more tongue than anything else, his teeth nipping at your neck and finally sinking into your skin, all to mark you as his. you’ve both never officially decided what the two of you are, but you both know that he’s yours and you’re his, and scaramouche doesn’t like sharing. a playful smirk curves your lips, “remember giving this to me?” “don’t test me,” he mumbles, eyes roving over your exposed skin. his gaze dips to the still slipping blanket, hands ceasing their rapid motion to try and rescue your modesty, “i might give you more.” your arms loop around his neck, pulling him back down to the bed as you smile teasingly, “so do it.” “you’re a bad influence,” scaramouche groans, hands already moving to grip your hips, and you laugh, “that’s why you love me~”

✦ SHIKANOIN HEIZOU. [ analytical harmony ]

“good morning~” heizou's lilting voice is the first thing you hear when you wake up, and his trademark smile is already on his idiotically kissable lips as the two of you lie next to each other in his bed. “you do this with all the criminals you catch?” you drawl, trying to ignore how your heart skips a beat as you see the way his green eyes twinkle in the light. “just the ones i think look best in a different type of handcuffs,” he replies smoothly without missing a beat, smirk deepening as he notices he's left you speechless. “plus,” his hand trails across your cheek, thumb stroking your skin for a split second before his smile turns devilish, “it'd be pretty hard for me to get them to the police station if i left them all unable to walk.” “ugh, heizou!” you swat his shoulder, and bury your face in the pillow as he bursts into laughter. “but seriously,” heizou taps your shoulder gently, almost hesitantly, and you peek up from the pillow to look at him. a soft pink blush dusts his cheeks, and his eyes flicker away from yours in a manner that seems almost shy, “you're the only person i'd do this with, criminal or not.”

✦ XIAO. [ vigilant yaksha ]

waking up next to you is like a little slice of heaven for xiao. he can barely believe that he, the corrupted conqueror of demons, is able to share a bed with a mortal who borders on angelic. you shift in xiao's embrace, tucking your head under his chin almost instinctively as your eyes open slowly, “good morning, xiao. did you sleep well?” he still gets embarrassed by your proximity, so his voice is a little curt as he responds with a pink blush darkening his cheeks, “adepti do not require sleep.” “ah…” you roll your eyes, but pounce on the opportunity to fluster him, “guess that's why you always want to go all night, hm?” “i-!” xiao's face turns an almost delightful shade of crimson and he looks away, “no respect for the adepti.” “not true!” you gasp with mock offense. cuddling up against him, you stick your tongue out, “i respect alllll the adepti. but my boyfriend? maybe not so much.” “you'll be the death of me,” xiao sighs, pulling you impossibly closer. “then i hope you'll die a happy man,” you giggle, threading your fingers through his jade hair. xiao's eyes slide shut from the feeling of you playing with his hair, and he murmurs a response that leaves you speechless, “after a life with you? certainly.”

i love them this is so soft when is it my turn // general masterlist

© starglitterz 2023. do not repost or modify in any way - reblog and leave comments if you enjoyed !

[writemekpop]

Stolen Kisses | Lee Taeyong

Summary:  Sneaking off to have sex is tough with a kid in the house.

Genre: Husband!Taeyong, domestic AU, fluff

Word Count: 0.7k

“Yeah, baby, just like that.” 

Taeyong’s breaths were hot against your ear.

With a pre-schooler in the house, you didn’t have a lot of time to be intimate. Whenever you had the chance, you were on each other like teenagers.

He was lying on top of you, arms either side of your head, biceps bulging with the effort. 

You were lying beneath him, stark naked. Only a thin sheet covered you both. 

You secretly loved sneaking around with Taeyong. It made you feel alive. 

His hips were rocking against yours at a sinful pace. You bit your lip to keep yourself from moaning. 

It was crazy to have sex at 5pm, when your daughter was down for her nap – but after Taeyong spent the whole of lunch with his eyes gazing suggestively into yours, winking whenever your daughter wasn’t looking, you couldn’t resist.

Taeyong looked at you like he was a starving man, and your body was the only food.

You turned your head to the side. That’s when you noticed two wide brown eyes staring at you from the dark. 

You yelped. 

Taeyong’s body stiffened. He lifted his head and followed your gaze. When he saw what you were looking at, he swore. 

It was Yumi, your four-year-old daughter. Her purple tie dye pyjamas were crumpled, her face was puffy with sleep, and her black hair was a bird’s nest. 

“Mommy, daddy, what are you doing?” 

You froze. This was your worst nightmare - worse than when you walked out with your school skirt tucked into your panties, with the entire high school sniggering at your exposed butt. 

Taeyong smoothly got up from the bed and wrapped the sheet around his lower half. He pulled the duvet over your naked chest. 

Normally, you were calm in a crisis, and Taeyong was the flustered one, but today, it seemed you had switched. 

Taeyong smiled in a way a schoolteacher might. “Daddy and mummy are having some grown up time. Go to your room sweetie, we’ll be there in a minute.”

The little girl looked at Taeyong, and then at you. Then, she shrugged her shoulders, said “okay”, and padded away. 

You didn’t realise that you’d been holding your breath this entire time. 

You exhaled, feeling dizzy. “Holy shit. Do you think she… saw anything?” 

Taeyong smiled softly. “She’s four. Even if she saw something, she’s not going to know what it means.”

You watched him as he put on his grey sweatpants. You admired his lean yet muscular form, and the many small tattoos that graced his skin. You thought about how much you wanted to kiss them, but then your daughter’s face flashed into your mind’s eye, and you grimaced. 

“How are you so calm about this?” 

Taeyong smiled wistfully, eyes staring off into the distance. “This happened to me once before.” 

You frowned. “When?” 

Taeyong pulled his hand through his silky hair. “Um… my ex’s kid once walked in on us, you know… doing it… on the couch. So I know exactly what to say – it’s a grown-up hug, privacy is important, it’s not your fault, blah blah blah.”

You scowled. You knew Taeyong had had lovers before you, but you didn’t like to be reminded of it.  

Taeyong grinned and stroked your arm reassuringly. It was like he could read your mind. He always knew when you were jealous. 

“Come on, momma.” He purred. “Let’s go and reassure our girl, then we can finish what we started.” 

You bit your lip. Taeyong was a hard man to resist.

--- 

After twenty minutes of comforting your daughter, she finally went to sleep. 

You and Taeyong went back to your bedroom, hand in hand.  

You groaned and leaned your head against his sculpted shoulder. “That was so embarrassing. We are never having sex again, like ever.” 

Taeyong chuckled, deep and manly. He buried his face in the crook of your neck, and placed long, opened mouthed kisses on your skin that made your entire body buzz. 

“I’m sure I can convince you.” 

—

MAIN MASTERLIST

Let us know what you thought in the comments or on anon! 💋

[russo-woso]

Adventures | Leah Williamson x singer!reader

Request | Masterlist | prompt list

Part two for biggest fan.

A/N wrote most of this and forgot to save it 😭😭

Warning talks of miscarriage, pregnancy, morning sickness

Summary You and Leah start a family

Since the end of your tour, you and Leah had been desperate to start the course of IVF.

Having a family had been in yours and Leah visions for years, both of you wanting to have a family of your own.

So when you approached a fertility clinic and they explained the procedure, you were ecstatic.

You and Leah would potentially have a baby within the next year.

The process started the week following the appointment.

Leah had an egg retrieval procedure.

You stayed by her side the whole time, holding her hand tightly.

The following steps were far too scientific for you to understand.

Then came the final moment.

The embryo transfer.

Similarly what you did to Leah, she held your hand through the procedure, kissing your forehead every so often.

You both walked out the hospital, smiling at the thought of what nine months from now might look like.

—

The 29th of March held so many memories.

It was one of the best days of the year.

On that day, you get to celebrate your girl.

Over the years, you’d gone all out for Leah birthday, wearing to spoil her the best you could.

You’d wake up early, make her breakfast, bring it to her in bed.

But this year was different.

This year, you still woke up early, but with a sudden wave of nausea.

You jumped up from bed, trying your hardest to not wake Leah, and ran to the bathroom.

You barely made it before throwing your head in the toilet.

You felt Leah’s hand on your back, rubbing it comfortingly as you continued to throw up.

Once you’d finished, you sat back against the wall, Leah coming to sit down next to you.

“I’m so sorry, le. This isn’t how today was supposed to start. I was gonna make you breakfast and now—” You said, tears welling in your eyes.

“—Baby, hey, it’s okay. Don’t cry. As long as I’m with you, it’s perfect. Look, I’ll go down and make some breakfast and bring it upstairs.” Leah told you and you weakly nodded.

Leah left the bathroom soon after to go make pancakes.

As you were getting up, your eyes focused on a small box on top of the cabinet.

You picked the box up, taking a test out and unwrapping it.

You quickly took it, setting it down on the bathroom counter.

You wanted Leah to be with you when you looked, but you didn’t want her to be upset on her birthday if it was negative.

It was still a few days early to take the test.

The doctors recommended at least three weeks and it had only been two and a half but you were certain.

You hadn’t realised how much time had gone by until Leah walked upstairs with two plates of pancakes in her hands.

You walked over to the bed, getting comfy before Leah handed you breakfast.

Lying in bed next to you, Leah looked cautiously over to you.

“Baby, have you taken a test yet?” Leah asked

“I’ve just taken one. I haven’t looked yet. I wanted you to be there.” You explained and Leah took your hand in hers. “I don’t want you to be disappointed on your birthday if it’s negative.”

“Y/N, I don’t care if it’s negative, baby. It’s okay if this time hasn’t worked, it’s the first time. We can try again. Well go look after breakfast, okay?”

You nodded, Leah pressing a kiss to your cheek.

It had been a while and you and Leah still hadn’t looked at the test.

It wasn’t until you went through to the bathroom, that you decided to call Leah through to do it.

Leah wrapped an arm around you, her hand rubbing up and down your side.

“Remember, it doesn’t matter if it’s positive or negative.” Leah reminded you, kissing your temple.

“3, 2, 1…” you both counted, before flipping the test.

You mouths dropped as you read the word on it.

Pregnant

“You’re pregnant, baby!” Leah exclaimed, picking you up and twirling you.

“We’re gonna have a baby.” You smiled, leaning in to kiss Leah.

“This is the best birthday ever. I love you so much.”

—

“Le! Come here!” You exclaimed, Leah running through to the living room where you were sat.

“What? Is something wrong?” Leah asked, panicked.

“They kicked. I definitely just felt a kick. Come.” You told her, grabbing her hand and resting it on your now 18 week bump.

“Come on, bubba. Kick for mummy.” Leah whispered, rubbing your bump.

As she finished her words, a small kick was felt.

Leah gleamed up at you, the most biggest smile on her face.

“Did you feel it?”

She nodded quickly, going back to focus on your bump.

Every time Leah spoke to your baby, they kicked.

And every time they didn’t kick, Leah would wait until they did.

Leah stayed there for at least an hour, just talking to your baby.

—

Christmas was your favourite time of the year.

The aesthetics, the weather, the fact you got to spend time with loved ones.

It all just made you happy.

This year though, was quite the opposite.

Yes, the aesthetics hadn’t changed, and the weather remained the same and you still got to spend time with family.

But this year, you were nine months pregnant.

You have been trying to induce yourself into labour for the past week.

You’d spent hours bouncing up and down on the yoga ball.

You’d gone on several walks, curb walking, hoping that it could help.

Long story short, it didn’t. Because you’re sat here on the morning of Christmas Eve still nine months pregnant.

“Le, please come tell your daughter to just come already.” You sighed, flopping against the sofa, exhausted because you’d had to stand for more than five minutes.

“Hi, bubba.” Leah began, lying in between your legs, her head resting on the side of your bump. “Me and mama really want to meet you. Come on, bubba. I know you’re comfy in there, but you have to come meet us.”

Your baby girl just responded with a hard kick to your bladder.

“I need to go to the toilet now.” You groaned, Leah helping you up as you waddled to the toilet. “Fuck. Leah!”

Leah ran through to the hallway, seeing you standing there, holding your bump as you looked down to a puddle on the floor.

“Baby time?” Leah questioned, a panicked look on her face.

“Baby time.” You confirmed

Leah started running round like a headless chicken.

Running upstairs to get the bag, then running to get the car seat, then into the bedroom to get you some spare clothes.

“Le, baby, we’ve still got plenty of time. Calm down. Let’s put on a movie, I’ll go get changed.” You told her, pressing a kiss to her cheek before grabbing the clothes from her.

The rest of the morning went quite quickly. Your contractions were now six minutes apart.

Leah had been so good, rubbing your back, getting you whatever you needed.

It was at 1 o’clock when you finally made your way to hospital.

The journey there seemed to take forever.

Leah’s hand rested on your thigh the whole time, squeezing it gently every now and then.

Due to yours and Leah’s fame and recognition within the world, you’d gone through the whole process and pregnancy at a private hospital.

Arriving at the hospital, Leah helped you get out the car, taking the bags in her hand and guiding you to the hospital.

At this point, you’d been in labour for five hours and were sure that you were beginning the later stages of labour.

The contractions were now excruciating, making you double over in pain each time a contraction hit.

The nurse guided you to a room, where a birthing pool was in the corner.

You’d asked for a birthing pool, still making your mind up whether or not to give birth in it.

The nurse checked you over, telling you and Leah that you were already eight centimetres dilated.

“Two more centimetres away from meeting her, baby.” Leah said, kissing your temple as a huge smile took over her face.

You breathed a sigh of relief, only a bit more longer of this left.

Over the next hour, you decided you’d like to give the birthing pool a try.

Leah ran a hot soothing temperature and helped you in.

She massaged your back and you breathed in the gas and air the doctors gave you.

When you arrived at the hospital, you were already too dilated for the epidural so you had to go with gas and air instead.

“Le, I think it’s time. I need to push.” You told her, already out of breath from active labour.

Leah got up quickly, pressing the button on the side of the bed.

Within seconds, the nurses were there.

They went through everything with you before telling you to push.

You gripped Leah’s hand as you pushed.

You’re sure you heard a bone crack, but Leah insisted she was fine.

“You’re doing so well, baby.” Leah whispered against your temple.

“It hurts so bad, le.”

“I know, love. I’m sorry.” Leah said, taking a piece of sweat drenched hair from your face.

After what must have been fifteen minutes of gruelling pushing, there was still no sign of your daughter.

“I can’t do it.” You sobbed, throwing your head back after pushing.

The nurses shot Leah a look.

“Try get in the pool with her. It may relax her.” One of them told Leah and Leah nodded straight away.

You relaxed against Leah’s chest, Leah’s arms wrapping round you as you held onto them.

“A bit more, baby. I promise.”

You pushed, your teeth gritted as you sued all your power.

Leah whispered inspirational words as you pushed.

“I can see her head. Keep pushing.”

“Her heads nearly out, love. I can see her.” Leah said, her voice breaking as her emotions got to her.

“One more big push.” The nurse stated and you pushed, the last of your energy being poured into this push. “She’s here! Well done mama.”

Your daughter was placed on your chest, small cries escaping her mouth.

“She’s here, baby. You did it.” Leah cried, placing her hand on the back of your baby girl.

You rubbed your daughters back, before looking at Leah.

She had the biggest smile on her face, tears rolling down her cheeks.

“I’m so proud of you.”

You smiled at her in response, too exhausted to speak.

You stared at your daughter, her eyebrows furrowed exactly like Leah’s.

She had small tuffs of blonde hair along with blue eyes, the exact shade of Leah’s.

“She looks like you. Look, exactly the same eyebrows.” You said, smiling at Leah.

“Hey!” Leah exclaimed quietly, clearly joking.

“Mum, would you like to cut the cord?” The nurse questioned Leah who nodded straight away.

She was handed a pair of scissors, being guided on where to cut it.

Your daughter was taken from you to get checked over whilst you pushed the placenta out.

The nurses helped you get to the bed, Leah walking towards you a few seconds later with your baby girl swaddled in her arms.

“She weighed 7 pound 1, and she’s perfect.” Leah told you, sitting on the side of the bed as you both looked at your newborn.

“She is perfect.” You agreed

“We love you so much, Olive Cassandra Williamson ”

[youcouldmakealife]

SOTM: Luke/Andreas; wined and dined

For the prompt: Andreas and Luke meeting/hooking up the second time

I literally finished this before I realised you guys probably meant like, the second time they hooked up, not the whole second time 'round. Mea culpa, everybody. And for those who interpreted it the same way I did...you're welcome?

Andreas can’t remember the last time he was wined and dined.

Though maybe that isn’t the best way to describe it — Andreas has dinner meetings all the time, has sat beside clients at the best restaurants in almost every NHL city, sampled from the menus of half of New York's most exclusive restaurants. Always on the agency’s dime, of course, or his multi-millionaire client’s, or the teams they play for, or the teams who want to sign them.

There’s plenty of wine involved — though Andreas always restricts himself to a glass when it's business — plenty of dining. But a meeting’s a meeting, whether it’s in a conference room, patiently waiting for a GM who’s been around since there were still six teams in the league to figure out how to unmute his mic, or eating something exceptional at a Michelin Star restaurant.

So obviously that’s not what he means. It’s not that he hasn’t been dating either, though admittedly, he had less and less time to spare for it as he got older. And not that he hasn’t gone on dinner dates specifically, where he allows himself a second glass of wine, orders what he’d like, rather than ‘what he’s having sounds good’, unless, Andreas supposes, it truly does sound good. So there has been wining and dining, in fact. Possibly even a surplus of it.

And yet.

At a certain point Andreas thinks he just stopped expecting romance. It wasn’t any sort of resigned, jaded disappointment at the dating scene. Not that it isn't a shitshow, but it's probably better here than just about anywhere else. More an acknowledgment that most guys didn’t seem to be looking for romance, at least the ones Andreas was dating.

And that was fine, because Andreas wasn’t really looking for it either. Romance was undeniably nice, but he worked long hours, put almost all of himself into his job, and what he had left didn’t require much more than good conversation and some companionship, a spark of attraction, mediocre or better sex. Romance might have come along down the line, but things didn’t tend to last long even when he did find someone who met his simple — yet almost impossible to find — criteria.

That one, he thinks has more to do with him than it does with them. Andreas’ career is one of those things that’s attractive in theory, but significantly less endearing when he’s slipping in and out of bed at all hours, constantly checking his email or ducking out to make a call, flying off to who knows where, sometimes with plenty of notice, sometimes with none at all.

Maybe his life just isn’t conducive to romance. He doesn’t like to think that, but there would be worse things, wouldn’t there? He has a job that he finds fascinating, a job that offers something different every day, a job that, incidentally, pays him more money than he has the time to spend. He could retire tomorrow if he wanted to, live the rest of his life in comfort, dedicate all his time to searching for true love, but why would he want to? It sounds excruciatingly boring.

So he works — he works a lot, works more than he should, at least according to everyone he knows, including Dave, the giant hypocrite — and he — well, he works. But it’s fine. Most people have to search for meaning in his life, but he has his. If anyone asks about it — and they all ask, except Dave, that gem of a fucking man — he says he doesn’t feel like he’s lacking anything. He’s not lying, either.

That doesn’t mean something doesn’t squeeze tight when Luke conveniently ‘happens to be in town’ — though if there’s any town that actually applies to, it’s New York — when he figures they should ‘catch up’. Even as he tells himself that he’s just catching up with an old flame, one who doesn’t even live in the same country as him anymore. Even as he tells himself once for old time’s sake, and then twice doesn’t hurt considering they’ve still got chemistry, then when it’s been three, four, half a dozen, and if Luke’s got a return ticket Andreas doesn’t know when it’s for, but it doesn’t feel like it’s any time soon.

Luke has always been a romantic. He’d deny it up and down if Andreas said it, and it wouldn’t even be a kneejerk macho shit — Andreas doesn’t think Luke even knows he does anything out of the ordinary. Andreas doubts he was thinking ‘I’m going to woo Andreas’ as he asked him out to dinner, not the first time, or the second, not when he came with a bag of groceries and a bottle of wine from a vineyard Andreas mentioned in passing, said he’d cook for him, laughing as he fought with Andreas’ temperamental bottle opener, scoffing when Andreas impatiently intervened before he could ruin a good bottle of wine.

Technically, he doesn’t even know if 'wooing' is Luke’s aim at all. He could just need the change of pace, miss the city, the speed of it, the convenience, and while he was here, Andreas was just as convenient as the rest of it — good conversation, good companionship, Luke more attractive than ever, the sex still fantastic. And they didn’t even have to get to know one another. What could be easier?

But Andreas doesn’t think so, at least not judging by the way Luke’s started looking at him.

Andreas doesn’t think anyone has ever looked at him like Luke does, the complete focus of it. Looking isn’t a strong enough word — it’s more like he’s taking him in, trying make sure that he gets every single detail correct, the way Andreas imagines a painter would gaze at their subject, a poet at their lover. Luke’s no poet, but, well — maybe he is, a little, minus the words. There’s something about the way Luke looks at the world. Something about the way Luke looks at him.

It used to unnerve Andreas, a little, especially because Luke wasn’t only looking at him like that over romantic candlelit dinners and endorphin fueled pillow talk, but also during the most mundane moments. Andreas would be scowling at his phone, pecking out an answer to a client who decided he urgently needed to discuss his contract on a Sunday morning, a full season before it expired, and he’d look up and there Luke was, visibly taking him in. Sometimes there’d be a little smile on his face — the moments Andreas let himself be a little cranky there often was — but often there wasn’t, just Luke’s eyes on him, taking him in like he was never going to see him again.

It was — a lot. Luke was a lot, almost from the very beginning. Andreas thought he was going to get a regrettable hook up out of things, and then he thought it was going to be a few of them, and it was like a switch was flipped, and Luke went from the hot, fun, surprisingly good in bed client Andreas had completely unprofessionally fucked — and not just once, but a few times, and then a handful — to even more surprisingly good company outside of bed, to something Andreas didn’t quite have a name for. Someone who was gone even more than Andreas was, someone Andreas started to miss when he was gone. Andreas was the one staying put, most of the time, but Luke was the one always watching him like he’d disappear the moment he closed his eyes.

The look hasn’t changed, and Andreas imagines it means the same thing now as it did then, Luke who doesn’t blink, Luke who jumps both feet first, Luke the romantic.

It doesn’t feel as overwhelming now, though Andreas suspects he’ll be spending some time thinking about just how quickly Luke was on board. How quick they both were — Andreas can’t pretend he doesn’t know what’s coming, what’s already here, can’t pretend that isn’t something he wants, when he could end things with a word.

But he doesn’t. This time Andreas lets himself look back, and when Luke catches him at it, he doesn’t let himself look away.

[detachedminxsfics]

Motel

Masterlist

Characters: Negan (Dead City) x F!Reader

Summary: You've grown particularly close with the Motor Inn's personal walker killer and decide to pay his motel room a visit.

Word count: 4.5K

Warnings: NSFW - Oral (m receiving), vaginal sex, hair pulling, shower sex, praise, dirty talk, negan's usual foul mouth, gentle dom negan

A/N: If you're from my tiktok (which spawned the chaos that motivated me to finish most of this bc you guys are crazy), hello! This is my first time managing to actually finish and upload a oneshot in months, so I apologise in advance. I was also extremely tired when I wrote most of this, but I hope it was worth the wait for the handful of you bombarding my comment sections for the past 24 hours. 😂 I knew what I had to do the moment I saw that shower scene...like damn.

You downed your third shot of the day before slamming it back down onto the counter and wiping the corner of your mouth with the back of your hand, your eyes idly following the neon lights on the sign hung proudly behind the bar. The Easy Stay Motor Inn. It was a shithole. It only served as a way of keeping four walls and a roof over your head, and walkers off your ass. Speaking of, there was only one guy you'd grown particularly fond of during the month you'd spent working for the lady who owns this place and lapping up the amenities of their accompanying motel, Negan. He wasn't from around here, that much you gathered just by taking one good look at him, but then neither were you. You were both drifters. Heading from one place to the next, never staying anywhere long enough to see it through and find out whether it'd go to shit or hold out long enough before eventually falling to pieces. You just kept moving. That mentality had served you well so far and had kept you alive long enough to say that you'd made it well over a decade into the apocalypse now, not that you had much to show for it.

"Want another?" The guy behind the bar asked, half expecting you to agree to it as you had with all the others and making his way over to the bottle of vodka you'd been chipping away at.

"No thanks", you shook your head with a small smile and slid off the bar stool, "I'm gonna go try to entertain myself someplace else, but don't be surprised if I come back and finish that off later." You gestured to the vodka with a tilt of your head, and the certainty in your tone had the bartender smiling.

You headed towards the backdoor that led to the motel out back, the harsh change of lighting making you squint and shield your eyes to adjust for a moment, the dim vivid hues of the neon-lit windowless bar you'd been sitting in for the past hour or two being snuffed out once you stepped into the natural sunlight. Visual disorientation aside, you made your way down the row of motel rooms lined at your side, your interest only lying with the idea of arriving at one motel room in particular, and you stopped in front of the door when you found it. The door was a stark black to match the wooden panels sitting on either side of the window not too far from the right of the door, vines having wrapped around some of the slats in the wood from the overgrowth of shrubbery on the floor beneath it. It was run down and uncared for like just about anywhere else in this world. You tested the handle to see if the door was unlocked and to your surprise, it was. Twisting it fully you pushed the door open and stepped inside, closing it behind you as you began to observe the interior of the room. It was generically decorated like just about any other room in this place, and he didn't seem to have left anything behind for you to snoop through. The room was so empty that if you didn’t know any better you might have thought that he'd moved on already, packed up all his shit and hit the road. You figured that this was on purpose and probably explained why he didn't care too much when it came to keeping the door locked since he didn't have any shit to steal. Smart.

Negan hadn't been around for too long now, in fact, he'd only arrived about a week after you, but he left a lasting first impression. He was useful. He pulled his weight by taking care of any of the walkers that roamed or wandered into the perimeter of the motor inn, and was never bad company on the occasions that he'd sat on the bar stool next to you and made conversation. As time went on you'd gotten closer and more comfortable with one another, and you quickly found yourself noticing that Negan was the one person you'd opened up to the most in the duration of your entire stay here, better yet felt the most comfortable doing so with. Your vulnerability wasn't one-sided, either. He never went into an awful load of detail, but he had a bad past. He wasn't on the run per se, but there was a group of people that he was hoping to avoid the possibility of encountering for the rest of his days, a community that he had a difficult history with. He alluded to what seemed to mostly amount to horrible shit that most people had done by now just to stay alive, the kind of things you see at night when you close your eyes, haunting you from the backs of your eyelids. You paid it no mind, and you told him that too; he seemed to appreciate your lack of judgement. Gradually, the conversations grew more personal and not so casual, things got flirty. It was subtle, but Negan would make small coy comments on things that you say, or little compliments now and again that toed the line a tad too much for what could be considered harmless flattery or him shooting his shot. You were able to keep yourself humble up until the night when he had jokingly mentioned how good your ass looked in your jeans after more than a few drinks, not that he needed it to let you know just how much he was checking you out. Your thoughts were interrupted by the twist of the doorknob and the sight of it being pushed open afterwards, revealing a rather sluggish and slightly dishevelled-looking Negan. Negan had a silver beard that he seemed to keep well-maintained, the hair decorating his top lip thicker than the rest. His dark hair was always slicked, though it seemed to have transitioned to more of an ashy brown over time with grey tinging at the sides of his hair. He was ruggedly handsome, that was for sure. A grin crept onto his lips when he noticed you standing by one of the beds, closing the door behind him and running his hand through his hair, slicking some of the strands that had fallen out of place in the process.

"Just letting yourself into my place now, huh? We graduating from drinking buddies to whatever the hell this is?" He quipped but was amused by how bold you were to just waltz on into his motel room.

"It's not like you don't want me here." You remarked with a knowing smile as you sat on the end of one of the double beds, to which Negan chuckled and ran his tongue over his bottom lip, a seemingly small mannerism of his that always drove you wild.

"Touché."

He sauntered to the bed next to you until he stood at the foot of it and started to shrug off his leather jacket with a sigh.

"Well whatever it is honey, it's gonna have to wait. I have been out there cracking rotting skulls for who knows how long, and now I need a damn shower."

The checkered flannel shirt he'd been wearing open underneath it was next, him tossing it on the bed in front of him before his fingers brush over the hem of his black tank top. He glanced at you with the material still pinched between his fingertips, a cocky smile creeping onto his lips as he noticed the way you were shamelessly staring at him and didn't seem to plan on stopping anytime soon.

"You gonna watch me strip now too, darlin'?"

You playfully shrugged and let your eyes wander down his torso, an eye movement Negan most certainly followed judging by the way his smile grew, as did his ego.

"I can turn around if you're too shy, Negan."

The throaty chuckle he let loose was almost immediate, his eyebrows raised as he shook his head in disbelief.

"Me, shy? Fuck no. You can stare your little heart out, and you would most definitely be staring."

Well, you certainly hadn't expected him to take it with such pride, so you caved and turned so you were facing the wall next to the bed. You could hear the sounds of clothes falling against the sheets and the clinking of metal as he undid his belt, and then the zipper on his leather pants.

"You still thinking of sticking it out here for a bit longer? I know last time we spoke you weren't so sure." Negan muttered as he got his pants down to his ankles and started to try to shake his ankles out of them.

You thought for a moment, then sighed a little.

"I think so? I don't know, I'm just trying to go day by day. Why, would you miss me?" Your tone picked up towards the end as did the enthusiasm in your voice, the suggestion making Negan's sudden laughter start in the form of a snort.

"Miss you? Shit, course I would. I'd probably move on from here after that."

You opened your mouth to speak but found yourself unable to form the right words. He made it sound like you were the only reason he was still staying here, and that without you there'd just be no point. You didn't ask him to elaborate though, just silently rolled the thought around in your head.

"Well, time to take that shower. I'll be right back, and I don't know maybe we can grab a drink or some shit afterwards?"

"Sure." You mumbled in response.

After that all you heard was the soft tread of his footsteps as he made his way past you and into the bathroom, then the sound of the water being turned on and beginning to crash against the floor of the shower for a few moments before it became more muffled with Negan's body interrupting the stream, and you turned back to face something other than the blank yellow wall you'd be staring at whilst he was stripping. You did your best to focus on the small details of the room to occupy your head, the peculiar framed pictures decorating some of the walls, and the hideous design choices when it came to the taste of the room, but it was no use. All you could think about was what Negan had looked like underneath all those clothes when he was a mere few feet behind you, and what he looked like right now standing in the shower in the very next room, the image of water droplets trailing down his torso and body making it harder to stay seated with every passing second until you just couldn't take it anymore. You stood to your feet and made your way to the bathroom, standing in the doorway for a moment as you stopped in your tracks. The shower had a sliding door that Negan had slid shut, the distortion of the glass still allowing you to be able to make out the sight of him with his head tilted town and one of his palms pressed up against the wall, and the tattoo decorating his shoulder blade. There was no turning back now, you had made up your mind. You approached the glass and gave it a soft knock, the sound startling Negan a little as he turned and slid the glass just enough for him to lean into the gap he'd made.

"Everything okay?" He asked, concern tinging his voice as he used his other hand to sweep some of the hair that had fallen into his face back in place.

Your only response was the sight of your fingertips grasping the hem of your top before you pulled it over your head, holding the top in your hands for a moment as you gazed at him, trying to gauge Negan's reaction to your now exposed breasts. He seemed taken aback for a moment or two, and then his eyes darkened with lust.

"Can I join you?" You asked, fingers teasingly dancing along the waistband of your jeans as though you could tell by just the look in his eyes that he wasn't going to deny your offer.

He didn't.

"Fuck yeah you can." He rasped with a shit-eating grin, leaning back and pushing the sliding glass all the way open to make room for you to join him.

You stripped until there was nothing left, discarding all of your clothes into a pile on the tiled bathroom floor and stepping into the shower with him. The first thing you noticed was the heat. The steam from the hot water, the heat coming from Negan's body, all of it swarming your body with warmth. Then, him. All of him. From the water droplets falling from the scruff of his beard, the dark hair decorating his chest and trailing down the centre of his torso, and even the skull tattoo inked on the right side of his chest. The man was gorgeous. Your eyes dragged down his body, drinking in every inch of him until you got to the part you'd been anticipating most, but were interrupted. He cupped the underside of your jaw and urged your head back up, his thumb brushing along your chin as the tip of his thumb traced just along the edge of your bottom lip.

"You like what you're seeing, huh?" He seemed to be making more of a statement than genuinely asking, but you entertained him nonetheless.

"A lot." You replied simply, the intense and lustful look your eyes were lit with corrupting your stare as your eyes bore into his.

"Good."

He used the hold on your jaw to guide your lips to his, his lips claiming yours. The hand that had been cupping your chin moved to grasp the nape of your neck, his other hand gripping your hip and drawing your body against his. You could feel him hard against your thigh as he groaned into the kiss, his tongue slipping into your mouth so you could taste him and his hands keeping you pressed firmly against his body, your own hands beginning to wander from the top of his chest down to his abdomen. The water cascading down his shoulders caressed along your fingertips and down your breasts, the warm water trailing down your body whilst he continued to move his lips against yours until you couldn't breathe, and you were forced to pull back for air. The moment you did Negan dove his head into the crook of your neck and pressed his lips against your pulse point, gently sucking the skin there and occasionally teasing it between his teeth in a way that was sure to leave marks, his beard scratching along your jaw as he did. The attention he paid your neck had your hand rushing up the nape of his neck and into his hair, combing your fingers through the back before taking a fistful of his wet strands. The slight tension on his scalp and the way your breath was shaking right by his ear made him pause for a moment to smile against your skin, a hoarse chuckle following shortly thereafter. The warmth of his breath from the laugh felt hot on your skin, and you used the strands of hair you'd taken in your palm to urge his head back until his face was inches from yours again. His tongue swiped over his bottom lip when you found your voice.

"You've thought about this before haven't you, fucking me?"

His brows raised at your boldness, the corners of his mouth fighting a smile.

"Damn right I have. I'd have to be blind or crazy not to, you are easy on the eyes, darlin'."

"Oh?" You tilted your head as you feigned mock surprise, his eyes looking you over like you were good enough to eat, and you might just let him.

Slowly you leaned in and seductively ran your tongue over his lips, finishing with a small kittenish flick at his top lip before leaning back. You soaked up the wanton look in his gaze when you sank to your knees, your eyes locked with his all the while. Now kneeling on the floor of the shower you reached up and closed your hand around his shaft, the way his breath caught in his throat once he felt your touch giving you the encouragement you needed to lean in and run your tongue over the swollen tip, beads of precum gathering along your tongue as you did. As you licked at it you felt Negan's fingers stroke over your hair before he started to gather it in his hand, all of your hair soon clutched into his fist like a makeshift ponytail.

"Don't be a tease." He warned as he slid his free hand underneath your chin and cupped it, allowing him to use both the grip on your hair and your jaw to urge you forward.

Willingly your lips parted, his cock sliding past your lips and into your mouth.

"Fuuuck, there we go." Negan slurred as he slid further into your mouth, stopping just before he reached your throat.

He grunted once you flattened your tongue on the underside of his shaft and leant forward, bracing one of his hands against the tiled wall of the shower when he lowered his head to look at you.

"Shit, you look so good with a mouthful of cock." He rasped crudely with the dirtiest smile before pushing himself down your throat, and you fought the urge to gag as he did.

He started to move his hips, the motion prompting you to place your hands just above his knees for support whilst he slid in and out of your throat. Soon enough tears began to well in your eyes, the urge to choke too great as you finally gagged on him, the sensation making Negan momentarily screw his eyes shut before sliding out of your mouth. He let you breathe for a moment or two before he was already pushing down your throat again, his groans getting louder and deeper with every thrust.

"Ohh, good girl." He cooed, his sounds of pleasure gradually turning into a blatant string of curses as he repeatedly thrust down your throat, and you shamelessly took every single inch.

Eventually, the movement of his hips got slower, his moans getting louder until finally his hips stuttered and his abdomen began to tense. He tightened his grip on your hair, the harsh grasp burning your scalp, and then you felt the hot wet spurts of warm liquid coating your tongue. You waited until you knew he'd spilt every last drop and then carefully removed him and swallowed his release, your breath a little laboured whilst Negan hovered above you with totally ragged, uneven breath, his eyes half-lidded as he tried to come down from the high of his orgasm. A few tears had escaped your waterline and slid down your cheeks as he fucked your throat, but it had mixed with the occasional stream of water trickling down your face from the shower.

"You did so good, baby. So good." He praised as he finally released your hair from his hand and started gently running his fingers through it instead, his touch soothing some of the pain he'd inflicted upon your scalp.

You stayed like that for a moment just listening to the sound of the water until you felt his hand leave your hair and the sight of him extending it out in front of you for you to take, which you did. He helped you to your feet and wrapped his arm around your waist the second you straightened your back, his mouth crashing against yours and allowing him to taste himself on your lips, the urgency with which he kissed you making you moan into the kiss a little. Whilst he stole your air Negan guided you backwards until your back came to press against the steamy tiled wall, the condensation pooling on the tiles smearing against your skin, and the faint coolness to it making you gasp. You wrapped your arms around Negan's neck to draw him in closer, your hips subconsciously moving to bring your groin against his and allowing his still proudly hard cock to brush against your inner thigh. You broke the kiss to try to regulate your unsteady breathing, leaning back just enough so that your lips were practically still brushing, the hot heavy pants Negan breathed against your lips making you need him all the more.

"Negan?"

"Yeah?"

"I need you inside me."

He couldn't hold back the dangerous look his eyes filled with when you whispered exactly what you needed, an arrogant look in his eye as he leaned back and cockily smiled.

"Your wish is my command, sweetheart. C'mere."

He slid his hands all the way up the backs of your thighs, towards your outer thigh, and then took hold of your hips. The gesture prompted you to do a small jump that allowed Negan to hoist you up and trap you between the wall and his body, your legs wrapped around his waist as his hands moved to cup your ass. In one calculated movement Negan lined himself up and sank inside you, the way you stretched around him eliciting a filthy moan from your lips almost immediately.

"That feel good, baby?" He purred, his voice full of arrogance.

He knew it did, he just wanted to hear you say it.

"Yes, god yes." Was all you could manage as he set a hard and intense pace, drawing all the way out before slamming back inside you, the feeling of fullness with every thrust making your mouth fall open.

One of your hands slid down his chest, his dark chest hair brushing up against your fingers as you did, whilst the other slid up his shoulder and moved to rest on the nape of his neck. His fingers were digging into your skin with the grip he had on you, strands of your hair clinging to the condensation of the tiled walls as you slightly threw your head back, uncontrollable sounds of pleasure spilling from your lips from the way he roughly fucked into you. The overwhelming sensation caused you to idly weave your fingertips in the hair at the top of his neck and run your hands through the back of his hair, occasionally tugging at it when he buried himself especially deep and you could do nothing but squirm in his grip. The water was still running just off to Negan's side, the hot water wasting onto the floor and creating a small pool at his feet. With the way you'd angled your body it allowed him to lean in and lick a stripe up the valley between your breasts, your skin feverishly hot against his tongue as he gathered some of the water droplets and left nothing but a trail of spit before beginning to kiss up your throat. He littered your neck with kisses, moving his affections to the side of your neck before planting a few kisses along your jaw, his stubble scratching along the side of your face all the while. It felt like heaven. You couldn't think about anything other than his touch, the way his mouth shamelessly marked your skin, the sounds of his heavy breath and the guttural groans spilling from his throat like music to your ears. By this point your sweet moans grew to resemble sobs, your legs slightly shaking in his hold as Negan thrust into you over and over, and a feeling started to burn in the pit of your stomach unlike anything you had ever felt before.

"Negan." was all you managed to choke out, practically in the form of a cry.

All you felt was his lips claiming yours, and the occasional parting of your lips just enough for him to whisper into the kisses.

"I got you, I got you, baby." He swore over and over, his gentle reassurance paired with his hard thrusts tipping you completely over the edge, and your whimpers getting lost in his heated kisses.

You feel the knotting in your abdomen just before everything comes crashing over you, waves of pleasure ripping through your body and making you clench around him as Negan continues to fuck you throughout your high, your mind hazed with overstimulation. Eventually his movements began to stutter, his abdomen clenching amidst the deep v-lines framing his hips, and a string of gravelly curses poured from his mouth. Carefully, Negan unwrapped one of your legs from his waist and urged you to set it down on the floor of the shower, the other still wrapped around his hips as he held it there. His free hand moved down to his shaft, wrapping his hand around it and giving it a few quick strokes until he finally came. His hold on your leg became more of a firm squeeze as he threw his head back a little and grunted, liquid splashing over the top of your inner thigh and beginning to gradually trickle down your leg. The bathroom was full of steam now, the air thick with humidity and both of your chests rising and falling rapidly as you both tried to catch your breath. After a few moments you felt Negan place your other leg down, his release still dribbling down your skin as you tried to come down from your incalculable high. His breath evened out a little, his eyes still half-lidded when his hazel eyes locked with yours, his gaze capturing you amidst the knowing grin playing on his lips. You were totally fucked out, and the sight made him chuckle.

"That good, huh?" He teased with raised brows, his tongue dragging over his bottom lip making you playfully roll your eyes and manage a small laugh.

"Shut up."

You'd give credit where credit is due, the man knew what he was doing, but you couldn't allow yourself to stroke his almost nauseating large ego any further. He shook his head with a smile, both of his hands smoothing over your waist and then taking hold of it, using it to lead you towards him. You let him coax you to the space closer to the shower head, the water now splashing directly against the back of his neck and trailing down his body, droplets of water simultaneously forming along Negan's jawline and repeatedly falling from his wet beard. He kept one hand on your waist whilst the other held one side of your face, his eyes boring into yours. His head tipped forward so he could rest his forehead against yours, water sliding down his neck when he started to speak in almost a whisper at first.

"If I hit the road, I want you to come with me."

You thought you may have not heard him right at first and leant back with slightly wide eyes, shock etched into your features.

"Really?" You muttered.

"Yeah."

A moment of silence passed, the stare you shared serving as more of an answer than any words you could utter, but you parted your lips to speak and did anyhow.

"You've got yourself a deal."